A/N: Dick gets to deal with more trauma and Tim and Jason have been a little busy...

.o.o.o.

Chapter 9: Dead Man's Tale

.o.o.o.

Talia frowned as Grayson stared at her son's ongoing surgery. "I assure you, he will be returned, and besides, don't you have other business?"

Grayson shot her a small smile, "I'm not Batman."

Talia nodded. He didn't have another reason to leave—Nightwing may have become a more frequent member of Gotham's nights, but he had far more 'flexible' hours. "Of course. Still, if you tire-"

"I won't."

This was going to be harder than she thought. She'd have to make sure the spine implants were as unnoticeable as possible.

"So, I hear Todd-" she smirked as Grayson bristled at the use of his brother's former surname "-is doing an adequate job."

Grayson raised an eyebrow. Either he was prompting her to continue or questioning her use of the word "adequate," and she didn't really care which it was.

"My father said Robin has been pursuing some threads that indicate that he thinks Bruce is alive," Talia added instead.

Grayson nodded, apparently aware of that, but offered no details if he knew any.

"Very well. To my knowledge, Damian will need a week or so in a wheelchair after this, and to take it easy for about another week."

"Still pretty fast," Grayson said simply. "Thanks."

.o.o.o.

"Where'd they go?" Damian asked as Alfred explained that he and Dick were returning to a mostly-empty manor.

"England. Knight and Squire seem to have found something on the Black Glove," Alfred said.

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Gone three days, miss everything," Dick huffed.

"Masters Jason and Timothy think the Black Glove was behind Pyg and Flamingo somehow," Alfred said. "Now, Master Richard, how long is Damian to stay in the chair?"

"Week. Housebound one more," Dick said.

"Save someone and get grounded," Damian complained.

"Get shot and get grounded," Dick corrected.

"Ha-ha," Damian grumbled.

"Who's holding the streets?" Dick asked.

"Batgirl and Huntress, mostly," Alfred said. "Man-bat as well. And Master Jason asked me to keep him updated on the girl Master Damian saved."

"She okay?" Damian asked.

"As of the latest news I could get, yes, though that mask still cannot be removed," Alfred replied. "Well, Master Damian, since you'll likely be doing a lot of work with the computerized case files, perhaps I should let you see some more of what you missed."

.o.o.o.

"Jason should have known better than to just leave Gotham like this," Damian huffed a few night later as he continued going through some backlogged cases.

"I'm sure Master Jason had his reasons," Alfred said quite reasonably.

"Him and Drake both needed to leave, though?" Damian wondered. "Something just doesn't add up."

Alfred shook his head and went back to cleaning and repairing more of the weapons on the racks. "I'm sure there was some reason, as I said."

"When did they leave, anyway?" Damian wondered.

"As soon as they knew you'd be home shortly," Alfred replied only to sigh as Damian began typing furiously. "Master Damian, really?"

"Something doesn't add up. If it was just trouble they'd have sent Jason. If it was something to investigate, Drake," Damian said, flipping through the recently-opened files of the last few nights. "They wouldn't have both left unless it…was…access…"

"You brothers often access that vault," Alfred said gently.

"Pennyworth, please do me a favor and see if there's anything in there," Damian said.

"Master Damian, you know what is in-"

"I mean if it's still there," Damian said.

Alfred shook his head and headed off into the depths of the cave. Damian pressed the communications button. "Oracle? Do you know why Batman and Robin are in England?"

"Investigation, form what I heard," she replied. "There a problem, kid?"

"No, just…wondering," Damian said. "Taking them awhile."

"I'm pretty sure they intended to be home by tomorrow," Barbara said. "They checked in with me about four hours ago. Said they only had one thing left."

"I see," Damian said. "How's Nightwing?"

"Just fine. Dealing with some mobsters under that bridge," Oracle said. "…Blackbird, do you need me to patch you through?"

"No, I can contact him from here," Damian said. "Thank you." He cut communications and sighed.

"Master Damian…it seems you were correct."

Damian groaned and put his head on the console. "Don't tell Dick. I'll see if I can find out what they're doing…

Damian immediately set to hacking into Tim's files. It was more than a bit difficult, he'd give Drake that, but eventually he found the real reason for their trip and his jaw dropped.

"Pennyworth! Pennyworth!" Damian yelled frantically.

The butler rushed up the steps to him. "Yes, what happened? What is it?"

"They…those idiots," Damian said. "They found a Lazarus Pit. They're going to try to resurrect him. Try to bring him…oh shit…"

Alfred nodded, and Damian understood. The man knew that the pits could bring you back wrong, make you mad. "I'm going to call Master Richard. See if Oracle can get a hold of them, Master Damian, maybe we could head them off, talk them out of-"

The elevator dinged.

"Dick's probably still on the West Bridge," Damian said softly. "And the pit is in England."

"Perhaps Masters Jason and Timothy rethought their plan," Alfred said, reaching across to a shelf and grabbing one of Damian's short swords. "Perhaps they came home early." He handed Damian the sword and some Batarangs, keeping a few more projectiles for himself.

Damian nodded. "Yeah, maybe they just…just realized they were being stupid…"

"Yes," Alfred said as the doors opened. "Sir?"

Damian tasted bile in his mouth and choked it down. "F-fa-father?"

The person in the batsuit lurched forward. It wasn't Jason's version; it was the suit his father had been wearing when…

"Ho…oh…mm…" it rasped.

Damian whipped his wheelchair around and swung his sword up. "Pennyworth, any temporary pit-madness should have worn off by now. He had to get here from England." He sniffed, "What's that…smell?"

His eyes widened. Drake had been right all along. This wasn't the real Bruce Wayne. "Pennyworth, it's a copy! Those idiots raised some half-dead, mad copy!"

The copy rushed the stairs up to the platform. Damian threw his Batarangs as Alfred jumped the rail and snatched the thing's cape, snapping the fabric hard so the wearer tumbled backwards onto the steps.

Damian reached for his comlink. "Nightwing! Nightwing! You have to get back here now!"

"What?" Dick's voice was concerned.

"Now! They raised—ah!" Damian yelped as his chair was sent careening backwards. He hit the wall and pain shot down his back.

Pennyworth looked injured but was trying to come up the stairs anyway. That thing was advancing on him.

Damian shakily stood up…and slammed his wheelchair into the creature's face. He swung down with the sword, knocking it to the side, and scrabbled for the stairs. "We're going down, not up!"

Pennyworth seemed to understand and quickly reversed his direction was well. "Ah, yes, your…tools?"

"So I keep some knives in there," Damian muttered as Alfred helped him over to the toolbox. The thing had recovered and was running at them again. "Damn."

"Language, Master Damian!" Pennyworth admonished, snatching the sword and cracking the monster across the face with the flat of the blade. "Do you have something we could restrain it with?"

"Just wires," Damian said as he grabbed a fistful. "If we could just get its legs together, immobilize it-"

Pennyworth was seized by the neck.

"NO!" Damian yelled, grabbing the first tool he could reach and ramming it into the thing's gut.

Pennyworth the thrown aside, landing in a heap.

"Now fur u," the thing grunted. It twisted his wrist, making him drop the tool—oh, a screwdriver, well, maybe it did some damage—and it's other hand grabbed his neck-brace. "Lil demon's head…maybe shud lose head!"

Damian couldn't move, he just stared at that rotting face. He belatedly tried a swipe with his free hand but the fingers by his neck tightened; it would go for a twist at any second-

The thing was ripped off him.

"Master Richard!" Alfred cried in relief as Damian hit the floor.

Damian watched Dick pulverize the thing; saw the claws dig in with force Dick never used in the field and blood as it flew everywhere. Dick was yelling, obscenities mixed with sentiments of "stay away from him!" and "don't touch them!" and what Damian guessed were Romani phrases and his hands kept punching and ripping as the screams cracked the man's voice and became incoherent as that thing turned from monster to mess, flesh ripping, bones crumbling…

It was a fast, gory spectacle. Soon Dick was crouched over the decaying pieces, panting.

"Master Richard," Alfred said, about to head over, but Dick held up a hand.

"Get Dami his chair."

Damian stared at his older brother. The man's voice sounded dead, defeated. As Alfred went to get his wheelchair, he slowly sat up. "It wasn't him, Dick."

"Realized that."

"I…I don't know what it was, but it wasn't him."

"Okay." Dick seemed to be having trouble speaking, and Damian was pretty sure he was lying.

Damian swallowed. "I…do you…need a hug?" Dick seemed to like them and perhaps it would ease the trouble his brother was having.

"No…not now, Dami. Thanks," Dick whispered. He pulled off his mask, some of the dead blood streaking his face.

"The main jet just landed in the hanger, Master Damian," Pennyworth said quietly.

"Well, let them come in," Damian huffed, sneaking a glance at the dead-yet-manic look in Dick's eyes. "Let them see the mess they made."

.o.o.o.

"You used a pit."

Jason and Tim stilled as they entered the cave.

The wrong-Batman corpse was ripped to pieces on the floor, its resurrection over. Damian was in his wheelchair, handing Alfred some ice and sneaking downright terrified glances at Dick.

Dick was sitting in a low crouch over the corpse, covered in its blood. "You dared to." His mask was off, and Tim cringed when he saw the look in his brother's eyes.

"It wasn't him," Tim said quickly. "Like I'd thought, it wasn't-"

"You used a Lazarus Pit!" Dick bellowed.

Tim saw Damian flinch back, before noticing that the boy had a few cuts and scrapes as well.

"It was my idea!" Jason said, pushing Tim aside. "I…I needed him back, Dick. I can't…I'm shit at Batman, okay, and Gotham-"

"Fuck Gotham!" Dick yelled, shooting to his feet. "Fuck your self-issues and fuck Gotham!" He slammed a foot down on the corpse, making a sickening crunch.

Tim stumbled over to Damian, and noticed the boy was shaking. Of course. He'd never seen Dick like this, never had a reason to be honestly scared of their protective, doting big brother.

In a flash Dick was on Jason and Tim knew even if he tried he'd never be able to stop Dick in time if he really went for damage.

"You know what I saw?" Dick growled.

Jason shook his head, too shocked to speak.

"I see this…twisted fake father trying to kill our little brother. Saw him hurt Alfred, hurt Dami, and heard his crazy and I had to kill him. I…I thought I'd killed Bruce!" Dick screamed.

Dick suddenly slumped against Jason, sobbing. "God, I thought I killed Bruce…"

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I'm sorry, I wanted to help everyone and I screwed up and I'm so sorry Dick."

Dick made a sort of wordless sob and Jason continued. "Dick, you didn't kill Bruce, it wasn't him, I promise you didn't, I promise you…" He was shaking too now, and his arms came around Dick's back.

Tim started to cry, watching both of his brothers break like that. He felt a soft pat on his arm and looked at Damian.

"You were right," the kid said. "A…regrettable way to find out, but you were right. Father is not dead."

"R-right," Tim said.

"You're the detective, Drake," Damian said. "How do we find him?"

"I don't know," Tim confessed. "And we don't have time."

"What do you mean, Master Timothy?" Alfred asked.

"Because a train's coming," Tim replied, putting a domino down on the table.

.o.o.o.

A/N: Next time: More about the Black Glove and their plans, and Damian trying to make Dick feel better despite not being good at it.