Family is important.
To Dick Grayson, there's nothing of higher priority. Bruce Wayne may seem like he has other things in mind that are of greater importance than his sons, but Dick knows that that's not true.
Back in the Batcave with two of his sons, and a third coming for a visit from the Teen Titans, Bruce grows more and more worried that the Joker's mysterious plan may involve his sons as a target.
Dick leaned against the computer banks in the Batcave, his Nightwing mask sitting beside him on one of the keyboards. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he watched Bruce pace the floor. The Dark Knight's cowl was pulled back away from his face, and Damian was silent where he sat on a makeshift medical table, away from Dick and Bruce. Alfred was checking him over to make sure he was alright, but the only thing wrong was his cast; Dick had done a good job of keeping him safe. Alfred cleared his throat.
"Master Wayne, young Master Damian is fine," he insisted, patting Damian's shoulder. Damian swatted his hand away. "Might I tend to your wounds, sir?" Bruce paused, a bit unfocused, and then waved his hand.
"Leave us Alfred," he growled. Bruce glared at Dick, and Dick's jaw dropped. He threw his arms up in exasperation.
"Why do you glare at me like this is all my fault!?" he cried. "Damian's the one who snuck out!"
"I only did it to come help you, you incompetent moron!" Damian exclaimed defensively.
"Oh because you did so much didn't you?" Dick rolled his eyes. "You saved the day, Damian! You know, if you hadn't-"
"-Stop bickering! Both of you!" Bruce cut him off and they both fell silent. He turned to face Damian. "You will not do that again," he warned him. "Or you won't get the chance to. Is that clear?"
Damian crossed his arms. "You can't control me."
Bruce was about to respond when Dick snapped. "I didn't make you sneak out when you were told not to," he muttered. "Though I do applaud you for it…"
"Dick do not encourage him," Bruce objected.
"I'm just saying, you're a little bit oppressive. Well, I've been saying that for years. Goody-two-shoes-Tim didn't agree, but I bet Jason would…" he crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the ground.
Bruce balled up his fists and slammed them onto the desk. "I said enough," he roared. Damian shut his mouth tight, and Dick was immediately silenced. "We will not continue to argue this." He glared them both down before he sat down in his chair in front of the monitors. "We need to figure out what the Joker is planning."
"Well why the hell did he try to kidnap me? I mean, he didn't know Robin was going to be there. So why was I targeted?" Dick stood, looking over Bruce's shoulder.
"He had no way of knowing I wouldn't be there," Damian snapped.
"The clown at my end didn't know anything about your end," Bruce said as his fingers danced across the keyboard to bring up a file, "but Harley Quinn did."
"Harley Quinn? That's who was kicking your ass there?" Dick asked, a grin flicking across his lips. "I went to Arkham the other day to ask about her." Bruce turned to stare him down. He didn't say anything, but the message was clear.
"Lee-" he cleared his throat. "Dr. Quinzel believes that Harley Quinn couldn't be an inmate, because she's the one who broke him out of the Asylum. She thinks that she's gotta be crazy to follow the Joker, and I suppose I agree. That woman has to be insane. The anniversary of his escape was the first robbery-" Dick pointed at the screen "-at the first drug lord's location. In her opinion, Quinn would be a right-hand confidant of the Joker's. She'd know all his plans and play a key role in them."
"I just don't understand Harley Quinn's actions." Bruce hit a button and a recording played on the screen.
"Enough!" Harley Quinn's voice echoed off the screen. Dick leaned forward with his hand on the back of Bruce's chair. He looked at the woman on the screen. The video feed had been recorded from Batman's mask, and Harley Quinn's hand was extended toward the camera. "I don't like being played, and there's what you're looking for." Harley Quinn pointed at a distant rooftop. The camera panned as Batman turned his head to see the masked clown man. Dick blinked.
"She just gave up the scout," he exclaimed. Batman turned back to the red-and-black clad jester as she turned and started walking away. Without looking back, she told him, "And a word of advice: if I'm here, you're not going to like what's awaiting your little Boy Wonders."
Bruce paused the video feed. "She just completely blew everything up," Dick breathed, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips. "That… is completely unnatural for her. And she was pissed. 'I don't like being played'... You don't think she alerted you about the ambush and the surveillance just to get back at the Joker, do you?" he asked.
Bruce laced his fingers and rested his chin on them. "If so, then you're theory holds ground."
"We may be able to get to the Joker through Harley Quinn," Dick agreed. "That's going to be difficult, even if she does have some free will left. Lee thinks that the Joker finds her expendable, but she is emotionally attached. Due to a bad childhood, she kinda latched on to the first person who showed her any interest, she says. She won't be easily reached, but I think that if we try, she can be." He said, running a hand through his hair. "We should try to separate them again. If we can nurture a seed of doubt in her, she could break away from him."
"Doubtful," Bruce said. "But it is worth a try."
"Terrific," Damian said from where he'd practically materialized to Bruce's left. "So how are we going to do it?" He put his elbows on the desk.
"You will not be doing anything," Bruce told him sternly.
"I am perfectly capable!" Damian cried irritably. He stalked away and then did a handstand on his one unbroken hand, holding his cast to his chest. He flopped down onto the floor and stared at the ceiling. "You just never give me a chance."
"No. Until you learn to follow orders, you don't deserve a chance."
Damian sat up defiantly. "I'm not a child you can order to do what you will! I refuse to be commanded like Drake was," he snapped angrily, and glared at them warningly, daring them to say differently. "I am better than Richard was when he was my age, and I'm certainly Drake's superior." Damian added.
"This isn't about you being a child or about Dick and Tim," Bruce protested, rising from his chair.
"Then what is it?" Damian demanded.
"This is about you being my son!"
Damian shut his mouth and glared back at Bruce. Dick bit his lip and looked down, hiding his jealousy; he really could see the family resemblance. The same scowl pulled at Damian and Bruce's lips, the same blue eyes glared at one another. Damian looked up at Bruce. "I know you're just trying to protect me, but I am capable of taking care of myself. You do not have to shield me."
Bruce put his hand on Damian's shoulder. "Not until you are better," he said gently. "My decision is final."
Damian pushed Bruce's hand away and glared at him. "I'm ten years old. Broken arm or not, I am an able combatant. You forget that I graduated from the League of Assassins! I'm better than you!" he shouted, and then turned to leave. Bruce grabbed his hand.
"Damian Wayne-al Ghul, stop this-"
"-NO!" Damian shouted, taking a furious swing at Bruce. He easily stopped the smaller boy's hand, but Dick stepped forward nonetheless. He'd seen what Damian could do to men bigger than Bruce. Bruce glared down at him, furious. He grabbed Damian by the cape.
"Bruce, maybe-" Dick began, but he got cut off when Bruce glared at him. He shut his mouth.
"Damian." Bruce looked down at him angrily. His son stared back stubbornly. "Go upstairs. This is not the end of this," Bruce hissed, and released his cape with such force that the boy stumbled. Damian tugged at his tunic and then stormed to the elevator leading up to Wayne Manor. Dick released the breath that he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Bruce…" he tried again, afraid he was going to cut him off. Bruce glared at him warningly and Dick put a hand on his shoulder. He smiled a little. "...he's a lot like his mom." Dick sighed. Bruce smirked slightly.
"He is. I worry about him constantly. He's so violent and entitled and… he thinks we hate each other. I think we just don't understand each other. I'm not giving up on him." Bruce looked at Dick. He nodded.
"You never gave up on the rest of us."
"I know. Have you given up on me?" Bruce asked. Dick shook his head.
"No. Look, we know you're just trying to protect Damian. Who can blame you? When the Joker shot me, you tried to force me to let go of Robin. When Jason was killed, you nearly lost it. The Joker swore to kill Tim, and nearly drove him insane. Now the Joker has come after us again; you're worried that he's after Damian, aren't you?" Dick asked. Bruce looked down. "You can't keep him cooped up here, though." Bruce opened his mouth to protest, but Dick cut him off. "I know you're trying to save him from this personal vendetta that the Joker has against the guise of Robin, no matter who occupies it, but Damian is a capable kid. Take him out. Or let me take him out. He can help, Bruce."
"With one arm?" Bruce demanded.
"Just keep him close. Make him feel useful. You have to communicate with him." Dick urged. Before Bruce could either agree or refuse, the elevator doors opened. Alfred stepped out and Tim strode into the batcave, the cowl of his Red Robin uniform pulled down from his face. He looked exhausted but happy.
"I see the place has gotten no less depressing than when I left," he laughed, clapping Bruce on the shoulder. Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"What are you doing here?"
"Alfred let me in."
"Why are you here?" Bruce rephrased. Tim shrugged.
"I can't visit my pop?" he asked. Dick smiled. Bruce rolled his eyes. "Actually, I'm here to ask what the hell is going on. I left Gotham for a month and you all lose your minds! What the hell is going on with the Joker?"
"We aren't sure," Bruce replied, throwing his cape behind his shoulders as he sat down at the bank of computers. Alfred cleared his throat.
"Will you be wanting any supper, sir, or breakfast perhaps?" he asked halfheartedly. Bruce ignored him and Alfred looked down sadly.
"I'd take some," Tim piped up.
"And me too," Dick added, smiling warmly. Alfred led them up the elevator to the kitchen, and Dick and Tim sat down at the table. Dick looked around.
"God it's been months since I was here," he sighed.
"Me too," Tim agreed.
"Well I'm glad you're here," Alfred said merrily, going busily about the kitchen. Dick rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"You all right?" Tim asked, looking at him. Dick envied him. He looked clean and refreshed, despite it being nearly three in the morning; his hair was combed back, his eyes for the most part looked bright and relaxed.
"Yeah, I'm just… I'm tired." Dick smiled weakly. Alfred put two steaming cups of coffee in front of them.
"You should sleep, Master Grayson."
"I know, Al, but with Damian out of commission, I'm kinda the only one Bruce has to help him." Dick looked up at the old butler, who frowned slightly. "Unless Tim here wants to help me out and play sidekick for a while."
"Ugh," Tim wrinkled his nose. "I always hated the word sidekick."
"So did I," Dick smiled.
"You only hate the word sidekick if you were a sidekick, though," Tim laughed. Dick smiled in agreement, and Alfred looked between the two of them.
"Now if only Master Damian and Master Todd were here. You are family, after all," he sighed, and then went about with his cooking.
Brothers, Dick thought as he looked up at Tim. "You look so grown up in the Red Robin uniform. I swear, I still remember when I first met you as a scrawny little kid."
"You were a scrawny little kid yourself, Grayson," Tim cocked his head, smiling. "And have you looked in the mirror lately? You're not exactly the youngest member of the Batman family."
Dick bit his lip and smiled. "Yeah, I know. Just feeling a little nostalgic, I guess. Heard from Jason?" he asked as Alfred put pancakes in front of each of them; steaming and drenched with syrup. Tim's face lit up, and Dick dug in hungrily.
"Still in prison, I'd wager, if he hasn't busted out again." He cut a hefty chunk out of his stack.
"Yeah, I figured."
Alfred sat down between them. "It would be nice to see you boys more often."
Tim smiled at Dick, and Dick returned his gesture. "Yeah," he agreed. "It would."
