Nightwing didn't panic. That basic skill had been trained into him and was even more essential than his ability to escape any bond he'd ever been placed in. If you panicked, you were dead. Except he couldn't control the foreign fear that overrode his brain when Wally decided to be helpful by telling Batman that Dick had attempted suicide before, which wasn't even true. He'd be angry at his friend except his brain wasn't processing anything that wasn't denials and attempts to flee. He needed to get himself under control, but his brain refused to cooperate.

Hearing Batman sob a question gave Dick the final motivation to climb out of the hole his mind had trapped him in. He knew he needed to get his mind under control and fast. Ignoring the conversation around him, Dick focused on his breathing. He stilled his body until his mind felt less like it was stuck on a Tilt-A-Whirl ride.

Vaguely, he heard Batman dismiss Wally, but Dick could feel the nervous energy vibrating next to him. His friend's presence would not help at all, especially if Wally was the one to tell the story. The redhead made a much bigger deal out of what happened because he still wasn't traught.

"Just go, Wally," Dick said.

Less than two seconds after the speedster's quick exit, Batman demanded answers.

"Explain."

Dick's eyes flicked up to Batman's cowl. Anger clung to him like a security blanket.

"I'm not having this conversation with Batman."

Bruce removed the mask, and behind the carefully constructed neutral guise, there was fear and worry.

Thank you, Wally. I really needed this.

"Dick, what happened?" Bruce asked.

Dick sighed. As much as he wanted the anger to stay, he didn't have the emotional capacity to cling to it.

"First off, I didn't actually attempt suicide. I wouldn't do that," Dick said, twirling the blue yarn around his fingers. He didn't need to look up to know Bruce was studying him.

"Tell me what happened and why Wally thinks you did." The voice was calm and subdued. This was the voice that had calmed his nightmares as a child. It instantly soothed him. The last vestiges of anger left him, and Dick just felt exhausted and empty.

Looking up at the man, Dick stated plainly. "I overreacted."

The billionaire arched one eyebrow in perfect imitation of his butler.

"You're going to have to explain that, chum."

Dick had zero desire to do so. The whole thing had happened three years ago, and the acrobat kept it far from his memory. He didn't like to think about that night.

He struggled to find the right words in any of the languages his spoke.

"Son," Bruce began.

"Don't." Dick's tone was venom. "Stop calling me that."

His guardian froze, the next word half out of his mouth, resembling a fish. There was a time Dick knew he would have cackled at the sight.

The Romani wasn't sure there ever would be a time again. He missed the old him, wondered if he was lost forever.

"You adopted Jason, not me," Dick explained.

They had never talked about it. Bruce hadn't even been the one to tell his ward. It was Jason, a ball of uncontrollable energy that had hug tackled him and shouted joyfully that they were officially brothers. Dick hadn't had the heart to explain that they weren't.

The acrobat had been stealing himself to apologize to Bruce for their latest fight, which Dick was at least partially at fault, but instead he had ruffled Jason's hair, smiled, and drove his bike to Brooklyn.

Bruce snapped his jaw shut and left the room.

There were a lot of ways for Batman to handle this conversation. The original Robin wished he was a little more surprised that the man had chosen to abandon Dick. Should he leave the cave? Bruce had to be more than done with his failures.

But he wasn't sure where he would go. The Watchtower was not an option, way too many concerned citizens there. Alfred would be at his apartment in Bludhaven an hour after Dick.

He would have to figure out his destination later, but if he was going to leave, he'd need pants. The raven-haired man hobbled out of bed with much less grace than usual. Careful to keep weight off his injured knee, he searched the room for pants. He found a pair of sweat pants in a drawer and struggled to put them on.

How much pain medicine did Alfred have him on?

"What are you doing?" Bruce barked at him. "Get back in bed."

Surprised to see him returned, dressed as Bruce no less, Dick complied.

"Three years ago, Jason's adoption became official. Am I correct in assuming that this event is what you overreacted to?" The billionaire's tone reminded Dick of board rooms. It was somewhere between Batman's no-nonsense tone and Bruce Wayne's business shark tone. Despite years of discerning Bruce through the cowl, Dick could not place the emotion behind the words.

The younger man nodded.

A manila envelope was thrust into his hands.

"What's this?"

"Open it," his father figure ordered.

The younger man pulled out a stack of papers. His hands shook when he realized what he was holding: adoption papers for Richard John Grayson. There were four different copies updated for dates, will-changes, and his age. The first was dated a little over a year after Bruce brought him to the manor. The last was dated a month before his eighteenth birthday.

"I – Bruce, I" he stumbled over his words.

"The first time was your second Father's Day in the manor. You had managed to convince Alfred you wouldn't destroy his kitchen if you were allowed to make pancakes. You somehow managed to get pancake batter on the ceiling and were subsequently banned from all unsupervised kitchen use." Bruce kept the same indiscernible tone, but his lips tugged up into a small smile at the memory. Dick knew a younger him, a less broken version of himself would have smiled with Bruce at the memory of the unflappable butler becoming very flapped - but all Dick could feel is the unending hole that he has been trying to keep at bay for so long.

"I had thought the day an appropriate time to make our arrangement official, but then you came up to me after dinner with a craft you made for me and said, 'Thanks for not trying to replace my father.' I realized you were not ready, and my motivations were entirely selfish, so I put the papers away."

The acrobat's chest was tight, and he could feel water build in his eyes.

Sitting on the bed, his father placed a hand on his leg as he continued, "The second time, it was six months after you had called me 'Dad' without flinching afterwards. You had told me that you loved me eighth months prior and stated that you were glad that you came to live with me and Alfred, despite the circumstances being less than ideal. You assured me that your parents would have approved of me."

Bruce squeezed his son's leg. "Then you were shot by the Joker, and I wondered if staying with me was truly the best choice. I left the papers in my desk."

Dick felt tears spill over. He was unprepared for this.

"The third time, I had arranged to have both your and Jason's adoptions done at the same time. But three days before, you told me that you were glad I wasn't your real father before storming off to Bludhaven again."

Dick was crying freely now. He had been an absolute jerk that night. Looking back, he couldn't remember what had set him off, but he still remembered the anger and the need for Bruce to hurt as much as he did.

"The final time was a month before your eighteenth birthday. I wanted you to understand you always had a place here, no matter what." Bruce shook his head. "But I doubted myself. I wondered if it was too little too late. Our relationship seemed stable enough and I didn't want to risk a confrontation if it could be avoided."

The acrobat threw himself into his father's arms. He was an absolute idiot.

Bruce carefully helped him lay back down.

"If you keep lunging like that you're going to pull your stitches."

Dick wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

"Worth it," he said.

Bruce handed him a tissue.

"I can have a fresh document drawn up tomorrow if you'd like."

The younger man nodded.

"Consider it done." Bruce nodded as well. "Now, I'd like if you explained to me why Wally thinks you attempted suicide."

Dick groaned. Did Batman take lessons in how to spoil moments?

"Bruce, it was three years ago. Let it go."

"Dick." It wasn't Batman's growl yet, but the original Robin knew where this was heading.

Alright, fine. He might as well get this over with as quickly as possible.

"Jason told me you adopted him. I took my bike for a ride and ended up on the bridge. I thought about jumping, but I didn't. I wouldn't."

Bruce lips pursed. He leaned forward, studying his son.

"You're intentionally leaving information out."

Dick flopped his head back onto the pillow. Staring up at the ceiling, he spoke, "I did stand in a position that suggested I would jump, but I realized I was being an idiot, and I called Wally. He was there in less than three minutes."

Wally, in his rush, had almost knocked them both off the bridge. Dick had never seen his best friend so scared before. The two had talked about it extensively. The younger teenager had promised he wouldn't attempt again, and the redhead watched the raven-haired boy for a long time.

He heard Bruce swallow before his next statement.

"Dick, that sounds like an attempt."

"No." Dick's tone was firm. "No, I didn't jump. I had a plan and I thought about it. I didn't attempt."

The distinction was crucial to Dick. Besides, he knew, looking back, he hadn't actually wanted to die then. The feeling was too painfully different from what he currently felt. The truth was – Dick realized later, after he knew what wanting to die actually felt like, after Jason was ripped away, after the invasion, after he realized he was a worthless failure – Dick hadn't wanted to die that night. He wanted to know that even if Bruce couldn't love him, someone would. It was stupid. It was desperate. He hated himself for it.

"Okay." Bruce's tone was the one he used to settle lost children on patrol.

Dick hated it.

"Okay," Bruce repeated. "I'm not going to argue semantics."

"It's not semantics," Dick hissed.

Bruce raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Okay."

Dick ignored him and rolled over.

"How are you feeling right now?"

"Fine."

Dick heard his father figure sigh.

Wanting to end this conversation, he added. "I am tired. I think I'll take a nap."

A hand returned to his leg and squeezed. "Okay, Dick."

The mathematical genius didn't uncurl until his guardian left the room. He yawned and realized he was tired. A nap did sound good. He was out before his revenge on Wally could be fully formulated.

Alfred woke Dick up with a bowl of chicken broth and a protein shake. Dick scowled at the food.

"If you wanted something more appetizing, than you shouldn't have allowed your stomach to shrink. I'm not going to cook something that will be regurgitated shortly after," Alfred informed him.

It wasn't this particular food that repulsed Dick, it was the act of eating all together. He wasn't stupid enough to voice that thought in front of Alfred…again. At least, even Alfred's broth was amazing.

"Don't worry, Alf. I'm going to eat it all," Dick said with a smile.

"Hmmm."

Dick ignored Alfred's tone and kept his best charismatic smile on his face. The acrobat ate his food cheerfully as the butler fussed over him.

The young adult waited until the older man finished before pursuing his questioning.

"So Alf," Dick began, rubbing the back of his neck. "do you happen to know where a certain object that Bruce would throw a fit over ended up?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You are referring to your Glock 22?"

"Yeah."

"I had it disassembled and destroyed."

Ugh. Jennifer Park was going to kill him.

"That belonged to the BPD," Dick whined.

"Perhaps, you should have thought of that before being careless with the item in question. However, if necessary, I can cover the expense of the item," Alfred replied.

Dick closed his eyes and groaned. That would go over well with Officer Park. I lost the gun you gave me, but here's a check.

"Is there anything else you require, Master Dick?"

The acrobat gave up on his false exuberance. "No."

The butler left, taking the lunch tray with him.

Sunday night as Batman and Robin prepared for patrol, Dick planned for a fight. He needed to guarantee that Bruce wouldn't come down to the cave Monday morning. Besides, nothing would make Bruce more suspicious than Dick listening to him.

Placing a mask on his face, Nightwing hobbled out of the medbay. He plastered his best vigilante grin on his face.

"No," Batman growled before his original protégé could say anything.

"Hey," Dick said as he raised his arms in a placating gesture. "I know I'm benched, but I can handle the coms."

The dark knight stared at him for a long hard minute before nodding.

"Wait. What?"

"As long as you stay seated, I'll allow it."

That certainly threw a wrinkle in his plans. How was he supposed to pick a fight if Batman didn't bite? The Romani collapsed into the computer chair, blindly reaching for the headset. Bruce's face appeared in front of him.

"Dick, is there something you need to tell me?"

Oh. Right. Alfred had forced the acrobat to reveal his best manipulation technique. He'd have to go back to the drawing board. It's not like his father was emotionally intelligent enough to discover new exploitations without help.

"No, I'm fine. Just didn't expect you to agree with me."

Bruce squeezed his shoulder before replacing his cowl. "We will talk later."

Joy.

Batman and Robin left for patrol, and Alfred appeared with another protein shake. Dick was really starting to hate those stupid shakes. He knew better than to voice his opinion on the matter.

His phone buzzed with a text from Wally.

You going to stay mad forever?

Nightwing ignored the text in favor of listening in on patrol. Apparently, a drug problem was beginning in Gotham as well, although, smash had yet to show up; there seemed to be a new guy on the scene with a fetish for motorcycle jackets.

His phone buzzed again.

You can't ignore me forever.

I was just trying to help.

Dick replied quickly. Did you have to bring Bruce into it?

Dude, I just wanted to make sure you didn't get yourself killed.

The vigilante threw the phone down on the desk in frustration. Why would no one believe that he wasn't suicidal?

Okay, yes. He didn't want to be alive. But the newest Wayne wasn't going to kill himself. This darkness would pass, just like it did after Jason. The acrobat just needed time.

The device vibrated with another incoming message.

I'll bring over pizza and movies tomorrow night?

Don't you have a fiancée to entertain you?

Well *someone* sent her on a mission.

They're not back?

Nightwing immediately pulled up the files on the batcomputer. The acrobat hadn't checked earlier because he doubted he'd be allowed onto the computers without a fight. The mission report hadn't been updated. His phone buzzed with more texts from Wally.

They found the gang and are tracking the supply route with the bioship.

The team probably just wanted to make sure you stayed safe.

Dick growled in frustration. He slammed his fist onto the desk.

He didn't need the team making sure he stayed safe. This was why he stayed distant from everyone. People overreacted.

So pizza tomorrow night?

Dick laughed despite his annoyance. Even through his journey through the speed force, Wally stayed the same.

I doubt that's on Alfred's approved diet plan.

*shrug* I'll just bring Zombie Takeover 4-6 and my lovely presence.

I think you knocked a screw loose in the speed force. No one describes your presence as lovely.

You wound me with your words. See you tomorrow?

Okay

You're a dork.

Yet you love me anyway.

The Romani didn't respond to the last message. Despite everything, he at least felt somewhat normal engaging with Wally. It was like his old self snuck through the cracks of the all-consuming darkness around his best friend.

A few hours later, Batman and Robin returned to the cave. Nightwing heard Robin whining before he exited the Batmobile.

"It's just a scratch."

Batman growled, "Alfred will be the judge of that."

Tim stomped over to the medbay where Alfred began inspecting his wound.

Nightwing turned toward his mentor. "Leather Jacket gave you the slip?"

"He's highly trained," Batman replied.

Dick yawned. "A case to crack. Sounds like fun."

"You need to go to bed," Batman said as he started stripping of his armor.

"I'm fine. It's not like I have anything to be up for tomorrow morning."

Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "You mean you weren't planning on sneaking off to the Bludhaven Police Academy tomorrow morning."

"What? How- I mean, no," Dick sputtered.

"I'm Batman," his father said with a smug smirk. His gaze turned towards Robin. "And I happen to have a very intelligent partner."

"I have to go. It's my job," the Romani said through gritted teeth. He'd deal with Tim's treachery later.

"Okay," Bruce shrugged.

"You can't control my li- wait. What?"

"I'm not going to stop you. But should you choose to go, you'll have to deal with the consequences of your actions."

"I- what?"

Bruce didn't respond because he had disappeared into the locker rooms to shower.

Nightwing needed to talk with Robin. He approached the medical cot with a relaxed smile. Alfred was stitching together a slice on the teenager's arm.

"Hey Timmy, how are you feeling?" The older vigilante asked.

"I'm fine. It really doesn't hurt that much," the newest bird responded.

"Well, Alf knows what he's doing." Dick hopped up on the bed next to his little brother. "It doesn't look too bad."

"It isn't," Alfred replied as he finished the stitches. "Just taking precautions. Now are there any injuries Master Bruce is trying to hide?"

Robin shook his head.

"Very well. Then I shall retire for the night. Good night, young sirs," the elderly man replied before leaving the two alone.

"I should head to bed myself."

Dick reached around and grabbed Tim's uninjured arm.

"Not so fast, Timmybird. We need to talk."

Tim feigned ignorance. "About what?"

"About the fact that Bruce is not behaving like Bruce."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tim, what did you do?"

Robin bit his lip. Dick reached up and gently tugged at his lip, forcing the teenager to stop. "You know that's a tell, right?"

"I gave Bruce research on how to care for someone struggling with depression."

"I don't have depression."

Tim gave his older brother a look of complete disbelief.

"I don't," Dick repeated forcefully.

"Well, that's why he's acting differently. Plus, we discussed how you pick fights to get what you want."

"I- what? Timmy, that's not true."

"Okay," Tim conceded. "But that's what we talked about."

"So what? Bruce isn't going to fight with me?"

Tim shrugged. "I don't know what B is going to do."

Dick ran a hand through his hair. "Tim, would you talk to me first next time?"

"I would have if you hadn't decided to avoid me."

"Timmy," Dick cried. "I wasn't avoiding you."

His brother didn't say anything. The younger raven-haired boy stood up to leave.

The Romani stood with him and pulled him into a hug. "Wally's coming over for movies tomorrow. Why don't you join us, Timbo?"

Tim nodded and left. Dick collapsed onto the bed. Apparently, he had messed up his relationship with Timmy as well. He'd need to fix that but tomorrow. He was tired, and he had a long day planned for tomorrow.

Despite the absolute absurdity from the residents at Wayne Manor, Dick was still surprised that no one prevented him from using the Zeta tubes to go to Bludhaven. The BPD cadet left early enough to sneak into a local gun shop to replace his Glock, he left the money, plus a little extra for the trouble on the counter. He'd have to leave the gun in his locker at the academy, but at least he won't be chewed out and flunked for losing the weapon.

The morning went smoothing, he managed to charm Officer Park into letting him do three times as many pull-ups instead of sit-ups. As long as he could avoid aggravating his stitches, he would be fine. Dick figured the rest of the day would go smoothly until Officer Park yelled for him.

"Grayson! My office!"

The beginnings of dread started to form in the acrobat's stomach. When he headed inside and saw Bruce sitting in the waiting room with one foot resting on the other knee, reading a newspaper, and smiling in full Brucie mood, the dread formed into a cold ball.

Avoiding the billionaire, he stepped into his commanding officer's office and shut the door.

He threw on his best charismatic smile. "How can I be of service, ma'am?"

"I know you're the son of a billionaire, and you're not used to rules applying to you, but I'm disappointed in you, Grayson," Jennifer Park informed him.

"I'm afraid I don't understand, ma'am," Dick replied.

"Drop the innocent act, Grayson," the Chinese woman growled at him. "You deliberately withheld pertinent medical information."

What. The acrobat had no idea what game Bruce was playing.

"I'm not sure I under-"

"Cut the crap, Rookie," Officer Park interrupted. "You were diagnosed with mononucleosis a week ago, and you did not report it. If that were not enough, you neglected to inform the academy that your doctor specifically ordered rest and zero strenuous exercise for three weeks. Not to mention the enlarged spleen that could rupture through contact exercise."

That bastard.

"Ma'am, I don't know-"

"Save it, Grayson," the Chinese woman continued. "You're officially on medical leave of absence until I have a doctor's note clearing you for duty."

Dick made a strangled noise. How could Bruce do this?

Officer Jennifer Park stared at him for a long moment when she continued her voice was much softer.

"I know what it's like to choose a career that your parents don't approve of but endangering your health and lying about isn't the way to get there. You're good, Rookie, very good. Rest up, and come back. I'm not letting you go that easy."

The Romani nodded and left the room. He didn't want to speak with his newly-made father because he would punch him.

Bruce put down the newspaper as Dick approached, fists clenched.

"Oh, and Grayson, I'm impounding your bike," Officer Park's voice called out from behind him.

"Why?" He growled in response.

"Reckless driving. I warned you after the first time. You can have your father or someone else pick it up later. Just be glad I'm not suspending your license," she told him.

Dick knew he was seconds from punching his fist through a wall or his guardian's face.

Bruce stood up and put a hand on his shoulder, which the younger man had to fight not to shrug off. He would not appear as a sulking teenager in front of his boss.

"I'll take him home and send someone for the motorcycle," Bruce replied.

Father and son left the police academy. Getting into the car, the billionaire immediately tried to start a conversation.

"Don't," Dick cut him off. "Just don't. I have nothing to say to you."

"Dick, I'm trying to protect you," Bruce said as he drove into traffic.

Dick seethed. "No, you are trying to control me."

Bruce's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. He didn't speak for several minutes. The acrobat slouched in his seat, glaring out the window.

"I'm worried about you," the older man admitted.

"Don't be. I'm fine," he replied.

The billionaire erupted. "You are not fine. Dammit Dick. You lost fifty pounds in seven months. You haven't been sleeping. You're recklessly endangering yourself on patrol. And now, I find out you've attempted before."

Dick felt fire flare up throughout his veins.

"I didn't attempt," he hissed.

"Fine," Bruce growled. "You had a plan, but didn't follow through. And now you're acting like you want to die." His tone dropped from the anger and sounded almost lost. "I'm worried, Dick. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

Try as he might, the Romani could not hold onto his anger with Bruce's foreign tone. He would not be responsible for Batman's fall.

"You're not going to lose me," he said quietly.

Bruce's eyes flicked to him before returning to the road. "I'm glad to hear that, chum."

There was a heavy silence in the car that lasted most of the way back to the manor. Bruce broke it as he entered the key code at the gate.

"I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me. Can you do that, chum?" Bruce questioned.

Dick stared at his hands, dreading the inquiry his guardian would make, but the tones the billionaire had been using lately had shaken something inside of him. He began to fear that he was responsible for breaking Batman in a way the criminals never could. The younger vigilante nodded slowly.

"Dick," Bruce said, taking a deep breath before completing his question. "Do you want to be alive?"

Dick paused, wondering how to answer this question, before deciding on honesty.

"No, not really."

"Oh, Dickie," his father said, parking the car and then throwing his arms around his son in one of the most awkward hugs Dick has had in his life. "We'll get through this."

The younger man broke the contact first. "I'm tired," he said. "I think I'll just go take a nap."

Bruce stared at his son for a long minute before nodding.

Hiding in his room, Dick used the in-suite bathroom. As he washed his hands, he caught a look at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. The Wayne heir started to understand why everyone was concerned. Irrational and uncontrollable anger erupted. He punched the mirror, shattering the glass and denting the wall behind it.

For one short second, he felt in control of his life. Then he looked at the smashed mirror and his bleeding knuckles. Alfred was going to kill him, and Bruce was going to file this under more reasons to be worried about Nightwing's sanity.

He pulled the glass out of his hand and grabbed gauze from his first-aid kit under the sink. He wrapped his hand and crawled into bed. He just needed some sleep. He could figure out a plan to deal with everything after a few hours of rest.

Author's Note: I tried to get this one up earlier because I wanted to explain that last chapter.

So funny story, I spent a bunch of time researching rare and curable diseases for Bruce to pretend to give Dick, and then I ended up settling on mono, which isn't rare, but mono has the benefit of accounting for Dick's visible symptoms and being common enough to not arouse suspicion. Plus, people are advised to not engage in contact sports for at least four weeks with mono, so it fit.

I really hoped y'all enjoyed this chapter. Bruce is trying so hard to be a good dad. More Wally, Dick, and Tim bonding next chapter.

Last but not least, a few of you have asked about the amazon mission. I've decided that it will work best as it's own separate oneshot. I'm debating about doing it from Dick or Wally's perspective, let me know if you have a preference.