A/N: Okay, I feel the need to post a giant freaking trigger warning before the start of this chapter. If the sexual assault of minors is triggering or distressing to you, please take care of your health first and only proceed if you truly think you can handle it. Your health comes first. The sexual assault is only discussed in this chapter, but parts of it are talked about quite bluntly and there will be more than just discussion in subsequent chapters if I stay on the plotline I originally decided upon.

Chapter 14: Old Faces

Dick worked hard to recover his strength until he was ready to start training with the team again and do light patrols in Gotham. Batman was in the midst of some independent detective work, so Robin and Nightwing ended up patrolling together quite often and foiling some of the smaller crimes they saw. Batman still insisted on being involved with the larger threats.

The morning after busting a few small-time drug dealers, Dick and Jason headed to Mount Justice for training. Bruce was still neck-deep in his investigation, so he barely noticed them leave. Dick spent a large portion of the session on his back, since he wasn't quite back to full strength yet.

Training was cut short when Batman arrived and set up the holocomputer. The team gathered around him.

"I've found some information related to your child trafficking case," he said, shifting files around on the screen. "The data you collected during your last mission was incomplete, but I was able to reconstruct some images from the security camera footage." Two appeared on the screen, each depicting a different middle-aged man. Dick's blood turned to ice at the sight. He knew them.

With great effort, he pulled himself back into the present. He picked up enough of Batman's briefing to know names had yet to be put to those faces, and nobody knew where they were. Dick spent most of his remaining attention span trying not to vomit. He started at the feeling of a hand on his back, but it was just Wally, who had noticed something was up. Damn it.

The team eventually dispersed and Batman motioned for Dick to come with him. They took the zeta tube back to the Batcave. Dick came very close to losing his breakfast when he rematerialized.

"You recognised the men in those images," Batman said bluntly, pushing his cowl back to reveal Bruce. Dick nodded jerkily. Bruce sat down in his chair. "I need names, Dick."

"Brian Harris and Kevin Scott," Dick managed to force out. "In that order."

Bruce entered them into the computer. "I'll have the batcomputer run a search on those names, but it will take time. What do you know about them?"

"I think it's safe to assume any kids who've been in contact with them are going to need some serious therapy," Dick replied. That probably wasn't the most straight-forward way to start, but it was hard to think through a pounding heart and lack of breath.

"You can take the guesswork out of tracking these men's crimes."

"They rape children," Dick replied, trying and failing to steady his voice.

Bruce frowned up at him. "You know what I'm going to ask."

"You want to know how I found out."

Bruce nodded once.

"Can't I just say 'from personal experience' and leave it there?" The last vestiges of Dick's control over the shakes in his voice were gone. Bruce reached for him, before he seemed to think better of it and put his hand back on the arm of his chair.

"I'm going to need basic details," he said quietly. "Time, location, any other associates."

"Shortly after my resurrection, not far from Ra's base." Dick pressed a hand to his forehead, as if that'd relieve the throbbing in his head. "Nine associates. Only one of them might still be active."

"Do you need to sit down?"

Dick shook his head, which only made the throbbing worse. At least if he was standing, he could move, release some of this energy. He twisted his hands together. Too hard. He felt a finger crack. Nothing broken. But wouldn't that just be a giant steaming turd perched on top of shit mountain if he had actually broken his finger by wringing his hands? Okay, he was getting distracted and Bruce was staring at him.

"I took some time after escaping Ra's' base to get my head together," Dick finally said. "I think the nearest water source was contaminated because I got sick. Really sick. My head was still a mess but I couldn't afford to wait any longer so I left the cave I'd been sleeping in and tried to find help. Wanna guess who I ran into first?" He didn't wait for an answer. "They offered to take me in and I wasn't in any position to turn them down. They held up their end of the bargain, at least. Sucks for me that I didn't even know there was a bargain until I was nearly recovered and they suddenly decided I owed them. I'll give you one guess what they wanted."

Bruce was starting to look a little sick himself. "You don't have to do this, Dick."

Dick laughed wildly, a little too wildly, a little too much like the Joker so he clamped a hand over his mouth until the laughter was gone. "There were eleven of them, all up. They all had a turn, one after the other. Their boss had two, first and last. He's still at large. I have no idea where he is. Maybe he's in charge of whatever the hell's going on now. Fucked if I know."

"Dick—"

But he couldn't stop talking now, not after the years of silence had finally been broken. "They kept me there for a month. Or two. I'm not sure. I got a glimpse of the land out the back of the house. I counted at least a dozen unmarked graves."

"They've done this before."

"I knew where it was heading if I didn't get out," Dick continued. "I watched them. Learned their habits. I hated them all but I had to give myself the best chance to escape. So I picked my target. He carried a knife in his pocket all the time—he liked using it on me—but he always got lazy once he was… finished." He swallowed back the nausea. "Often he'd just fall asleep in my room. I waited until he was sleeping one night, grabbed his knife and slit his throat. The others never bothered coming around when he was there, since the fucker slept like the dead." Dick couldn't stifle another laugh. "Not what you imagined my first kill would be, right?"

"No," Bruce answered honestly. Dick had to give him credit for that. "You never told anybody about this?" There was one person, years ago, but Bruce was asking about people like Dinah or Wally, so Dick shook his head. "Dick, why not? The moment you started killing is—"

"I tried to put it behind me," Dick replied. "I had to function, and examining what happened wasn't going to help. Not when the most important thing was surviving. After that, pushing it to the back of my mind became a habit."

"A habit you wouldn't have broken if it hadn't suddenly become relevant."

Dick nodded.

"Okay. Give me the name of the leader, and go lie down."

"George Skinner, if he's still using that name." Dick left the Batcave, putting all his effort into staying upright and not vomiting. His head kept pounding, and his limbs were heavy. He needed to rest, and then he'd call Wally.

Bruce watched the batcomputer work, his mind frustratingly sluggish. Little by little, the horror of what Dick had told him sank in. By the time Alfred arrived with a glass of water and some sandwiches, he felt like he just barely had a handle on the situation.

Alfred placed the tray down, quieter than usual. He knew something.

"How much did you overhear?" Bruce asked, taking the water and having a long drink. The cool liquid rolling down his throat helped clear his head a little.

"Enough, sir."

Bruce sighed, resting his head in his free hand. "Have you checked on him?"

"Not yet. I'll bring him some water shortly, but it may be best if we allow Master Dick to decide when he wishes to speak with anyone."

Bruce nodded absently.

"Are you all right, sir?"

"I shouldn't be your concern, Alfred." The computer pulled up criminal records and mugshots for Brian Harris and Kevin Scott. None of the living George Skinners the computer had found had any ties to those men, so the name was most likely an alias. There was one George Skinner who had died a decade ago who had gone to school with Brian Harris, but that didn't help much at the moment. Either George Skinner was an alias or he wasn't really dead. Either one was possible. Bruce was feeling the faked death angle today, but he wasn't about to discount any possibility yet. Nonetheless, he put the dead George Skinner's most recent driver's licence photo up with the mugshots of the other two men. Just in case.

"Are those the—"

"Three of them, yes. At least one other is dead, and Dick didn't mention what happened to the other seven."

"I take it you have your suspicions?"

"Dick admitted he killed the dead man to escape." Bruce saved the files and closed them. "It's possible the others are also dead, but I can't be certain. I'll ask him later, when he's feeling better."

"I expect we will have a visit from Master Wally very shortly. I'll fetch Master Dick some water and make myself scarce until I'm needed."

"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce came very close to resting his forehead on the keyboard. This was going to be a rough day for everyone. At least Bruce hadn't said or done something to upset Dick this time. But there was plenty of time to be a terrible parent, of that he had no doubt.

Dick woke some time later to his ringtone. He fumbled for his nightstand, nearly knocking the phone to the floor before he finally had it in his grip. Wally's name was on the caller ID.

"What's up?" Dick said, stifling a yawn. He fell back onto his pillow.

"Were you asleep, babe?"

"Maybe."

"Sorry. I can call back later."

"Don't worry about it." Dick stretched, gasping a little at the cracking of his joints. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just checking on you," Wally replied. "You left pretty quickly after Batman's update and I wanted to make sure you were okay. So, yeah. You okay?"

"Can you come over?" Dick asked. "I need to tell you something."

"Sure. I'll be right over. And I noticed you didn't answer the question."

"Just get over here," Dick sighed.

"Yes, sir." Wally hung up. Dick let his hand drop to the side, the phone slipping from his palm and onto the mattress. He hadn't planned to tell anybody what had happened to him, but when he saw those faces on the screen…

Sometimes ethics were frustrating. If he'd still been the Red Hood, he could've gone and tracked those men down himself, squeezed every drop of information out of them and then shot them right in their fucking faces. But doing that would put Dick right back at square one again. He couldn't expect everybody to forgive him a second time. He knew the Red Hood had been bad for him, but sometimes, in moments like this, he wondered if being here was any better. At least as the Red Hood he had some measure of functionality, even if it didn't quite follow him home and out of costume as much as he would've liked. Now that he was in a safe environment, it seemed he couldn't go a single day without falling apart.

Wally's arrival pulled Dick out of his thoughts. "Alfred and Bruce warned me not to upset you. Has something happened?"

Dick patted a spot on the bed for Wally to sit, and didn't speak until he did. "I recognised the men in Batman's briefing. I ran into them after I'd spent some time living in a cave, trying to recover from the effects of the Lazarus Pit."

"I had a feeling you hadn't told us everything," Wally said, snaking his hand under Dick's on the mattress until he could squeeze it. "What happened?"

"I got sick from drinking bad water and had to get help before I was properly functional." Dick pushed himself upright, falling against the headboard a little harder than he'd intended. Wally scooted closer and picked up his hand again. "I ran into those two men, plus nine of their friends. They offered to help me. I didn't want to go with them, but I didn't have a choice."

"I know," Wally assured him.

"Everything was fine until I'd mostly recovered," Dick continued. "Then they decided they wanted some kind of payment from me. Obviously, I had no money and was still too weak for physical labour, so…" It was harder getting it out in front of Wally, somehow. With Bruce, he hadn't had much of a choice in that matter. Which had sucked majorly, but being angry over having to say something at least gave him the drive to keep talking. Here, he was left with his own convictions, which were now failing him.

Wally hadn't quite caught on yet. "What did they want?"

Dick found the spark of anger he needed. "To be giant fucking pedophiles."

Wally's hand spasmed around Dick's. His eyes were lightning. "What." His voice was low and dangerous in a way Dick rarely heard from him.

"Oh, it gets better." The angry spark was barely flickering within him, so he had to get this out now before it was gone. "All eleven of them had a turn the first night, one after the other. The leader had two. And, better yet, he's still out there somewhere."

"He's one of the—"

"Nope. We have no idea where he is or even if the name I gave Bruce is his real one. Isn't that wonderful?"

"I can barely contain my joy," Wally muttered. "Please tell me you weren't stuck there for long."

"At least a month. Maybe two. They had a giant unmarked cemetery out the back. Wasn't hard to work out I wasn't the first kid they did this to."

"Fucking hell."

"I watched them long enough to plan my escape," Dick continued, grasping at the anger that threatened to slip through his fingers and leave him with nothing but bone-deep exhaustion again. "One of them always carried a knife. He thought it was great fun to cut me up or just press the damn thing against my throat while he did whatever the hell he wanted to me. But he was also complacent. Liked to have me to himself for a whole night, but he often fell asleep once it was over." It was a good thing he'd thrown up before he'd taken his nap, or he probably would've lost it all over Wally right then. "So, one night, I waited for him to take another turn and fall asleep. Then I got his knife, slit his throat and got out. The others never bothered checking on me when he was there. If they had, of course, maybe I wouldn't have escaped. Or maybe I would've fought my way out instead."

"Was that the first… you know…"

"My first kill? Yeah." He was shaking again, damn it. Wally gripped his hand tighter.

"This… all of this… explains a lot."

"I guess." Dick had put a lot of effort into not thinking about it, but maybe it had affected him more than he liked to admit. But there was something else, something he hadn't told Bruce. "But, Wally, there's more. I've told you everything Bruce knows, but I didn't tell him everything."

Wally swapped the hand holding Dick's and raised his now free hand to Dick's cheek, painfully slow, giving him time to stop it. Dick let it happen, closing his eyes at the contact.

"I ran into a woman after I escaped," he said quietly, leaning into Wally's hand. "I wasn't in a good state of mind, so when she tried to talk to me I threatened her with the knife, but she pulled a gun out of her bag, calm as you please, and said, in English, even, 'I don't want to hurt you.' I didn't trust her, but I also didn't trust my body was quick enough to get the gun. She offered to patch up my injuries and I came so fucking close to throwing caution to the wind and going for the gun anyway. I guess she realised pointing a gun at me wasn't helping, so she put it on the ground and kicked it over to me." Some memories so close to his resurrection were a blur or jagged pieces of an incomplete puzzle, but this one was clear and neat and ordered.

"Brave woman," Wally commented.

"Yeah." Dick managed a small smile. "We stood there for a while, just talking, until I calmed down. She offered to patch me up again, but said I could keep the gun if it made me feel safer. I thought I was going to regret it like hell, but I went with her. I was bleeding pretty badly and hadn't thought to do some first-aid before I'd escaped. I'd just wanted to get out."

"I can't blame you." Wally took his hand from Dick's cheek and wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. Dick hadn't even noticed the build-up until then. He rubbed the sweat from his cheek. The whole thing nearly made him laugh. Maybe he was calming down.

"She took me back to her home and fixed me up. I was shaking pretty badly from being on adrenaline for so long. She convinced me to sleep in her spare room. She still let me keep the gun, and I was tired."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me, babe."

"I've spent a long time trying not to think about any of this," said Dick. "I never really examined my reactions or why I chose to do certain things. So it's as much for my benefit as yours. But thanks for saying it anyway."

"Anytime, babe."

Dick let the warmth from the petname wash over him for a moment before he kept telling his story, feeling a bit stronger.

"The stress from everything finally got to me and I got sick again. The woman took care of me. She told me her name was Iman, but she didn't tell me anything else about herself until I'd recovered and was going to sneak out one night. As much as she seemed trustworthy, I couldn't afford to trust anyone after everything I'd just been through. She caught me when I was nearly at the door. Then she told me about her daughter, how she had been raped and murdered and the men responsible had sent her the girl's head and a letter explaining what they'd done to her in excruciating detail. She thought they might be the same people I'd just finished dealing with. She wanted to know where they were. I promised something better: if she wanted revenge, I'd go with her and help her get it."

"And she took you up on that."

"We had to wait until I was strong enough, but then we went back and killed everyone inside. The only reason those two men and the leader are still alive is because they weren't there." Funny how he wasn't angry anymore, how he didn't really feel any emotion towards the killing except for maybe relief. "I showed Iman the graves once we were finished. I like to think I helped her get some closure. I felt relieved those men were dead, but overall I don't know how much it helped me. We went our separate ways after that. I tried to convince her to leave home in case the others came for her, but she told me she'd be ready and sent me away with her money, her gun and her car. She told me to sell the car once I reached the nearest city. I don't think she planned to survive her next meeting with those men."

"Sounds familiar."

Dick managed a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah." He'd had the same mindset walking into what he'd expected to be the final confrontation with the Joker as the Red Hood. "Anyway, that's all of it. I sold the car like she told me to and put it all as far to the back of my mind as I could. Now you know everything, more or less. Wish I hadn't told you?"

"If anything, I kind of wish you'd told me sooner," Wally replied. "Not that I'm blaming you," he added quickly before Dick gave into temptation to punch him. "I'm not. I'm just sorry I wasn't more careful about, you know, consent."

"You have permission to hug me," Dick replied. "In fact, I encourage it because I could really use one right now."

"Okay. Come here." Wally pulled Dick into a tight embrace. Dick squeezed back just as hard. Like this, he could almost pretend something wasn't broken inside him, because Wally was squeezing him tight enough to hold it all together.

It was a few days before Dick could persuade Bruce to put him back on patrol. He had yet to ask about the seven men Dick hadn't accounted for, but both he and Wally agreed it was only a matter of time.

The night had been fairly quiet. The three of them stopped a handful of pickpockets and muggers each, checked in with the sex workers nearby and watched the police arrest an armed robber without incident. The most memorable event was some kid getting his arm stuck in a vending machine, but once he was convinced to let go of the soda he'd been trying to liberate, he was able to escape. Or slink away in shame, more like.

At that point, the bat signal shone into the sky so the three of them headed for the GCPD. The commissioner was waiting for them.

"Jim," Batman acknowledged.

"Batman. Brought the whole family out tonight?"

"More or less," said Nightwing.

"How's your leg doing, kid?"

"Good as new," Nightwing replied brightly. "What've you got for us?"

"Got an anonymous tip about a possible base for those child traffickers you've been chasing," said Commissioner Gordon, addressing Batman again. "We're about to move out."

"Give us the address and we'll meet you there."

The commissioner gave them the address and headed back downstairs. Nightwing, Batman and Robin headed back down to the car and Nightwing's bike.

"Go home, Nightwing," Batman said, opening the car door.

"I want to help," Nightwing protested.

"You've helped enough."

"Am I missing something?" Robin interjected.

"I gave you an order," Batman said to Nightwing, ignoring Robin.

"I can handle it."

"I didn't ask if you could handle it. I told you to go home."

They were running out of time. "If there are kids there, we're looking at a potential hostage situation with massive collateral damage if it goes sideways. You need as much help as you can get. I can handle it."

Batman growled and got in the car. Nightwing went for his bike, sensing victory.

Their destination was a disused factory in the industrial district. Batman sent Nightwing in through the air vents.

"Your priority is finding the hostages," Batman said before Nightwing slipped inside. "Let Robin and me handle the criminals. Stay in radio contact."

"Got it." Nightwing crawled inside the vent and Batman replaced the grate he had removed.

Nightwing downloaded a copy of the schematics from the batcomputer. Batman had copied or digitised paper copies of as many maps as he could find over the years. It was an ongoing process, and it made crawling through air vents a thousand times easier.

Nightwing went for the most likely locations first. He eventually had to abandon the vents, but encountered no one along the way nonetheless. That struck him as odd, and he relayed as such to Batman.

"Agreed," said Batman. "Our route has been clear as well."

"Something's wrong here. Something other than the obvious."

"Keep looking. We'll extract intelligence from the office. Stay alert."

"Got it."

Nightwing searched more rooms, each less likely to hold hostages than the next. On one hand, he was glad there were no children at risk here, but on the other it just meant they were being held elsewhere. He checked everywhere he could think of, before finally giving up and heading to the office.

"There's nobody here," he said, entering the room.

"Figures," Robin muttered.

"Please tell me we've got some intel at least."

"It's encrypted," said Batman. "I'll put the batcomputer to work and let the police sweep the place."

"Weird how the police got a tip that there were kids there, but it looks like the place hasn't been touched for weeks." Nightwing pulled a grate off the wall. "Something doesn't add up. I'm gonna check the rest of the vents in case this was a trap. I've looked everywhere else."

"What, you think the tipster planted a bomb in the building or something?" asked Robin.

"Wouldn't surprise me." Nightwing climbed inside.

"Robin, go talk to the police, let them know the situation. I'll be there soon."

Nightwing had just finished a vertical climb to reach a horizontal section when he found it. "Batman, I've got a bomb here. Finish up and get out. I'll deal with it."

"Nightwing—"

"It's fine. I've got it. Go."

Nightwing grabbed out a can of freeze spray. Without knowing when the bomb would go off or how sensitive it was to tampering, it was safer to freeze the circuits before touching it. That would give him time to break the circuit before the wires thawed, on the off-chance they were undamaged by the freezing.

It didn't take him long to remove the casing, holding his breath as if that'd help if the circuits hadn't frozen, and break the wires. He was about to pack up the bomb to take it to the police when—

"Nightwing, I'm picking up multiple signals inside the building," Batman said over the comm.

"Multiple?"

"Get out. Now."

Nightwing abandoned the bomb and slid down the way he came. As he was crawling out of the vent to the office, the air felt wrong. The calm before the storm. He didn't know how, but he could feel something was about to go off. He threw himself into the nearest broom cupboard, jerked the door shut and dropped to the floor. Eyes shut, hands over ears, mouth open.

The bomb must've been on the other side of the building, because all that hit him was pressure and noise. The door and walls caved and landed on him and he lost the next minute or so until he felt a hand gripping his arm and pulling him out of the rubble.

"Nightwing? Nightwing?"

He could barely hear the voice over the ringing in his ears and the ghost of the Joker's laugh in his head. He managed a thumbs-up to indicate he was (mostly) okay.

"Got the first bomb," he managed to say before coughing up the dust in his lungs. Batman pressed him tightly to his chest.

"The kid okay?" Commissioner Gordon was there.

"I'll live," Nightwing managed. Batman's hand was firm between his shoulderblades, but he could still feel the tremble. The man was going to be difficult to live with for a while after nearly, in his eyes, getting his kid killed again.

"You've got the worst luck I've ever seen," said Robin. "It's a wonder you haven't died a second time."

"You should go to the hospital," said the commissioner.

Batman stamped down that idea. "He's coming to the Batcave. We have adequate medical facilities. I'll send you a copy of the files we recovered in case the originals are damaged."

Nightwing rubbed his ear; the ringing had gone down a bit at least. "We were set up. Whoever sent in that tip wanted dead cops. I guess they settled for roast Nightwing instead."

"Good work checking the air vents," said Commissioner Gordon. "We could've lost a lot of people if we'd gone in blind. I don't know how I feel about it being you up in the vents instead of your boss, however."

"Objection noted," said Batman. Nightwing was certain the man agreed, and probably wouldn't let him do anything risky for a while, but admitting that while surrounded by police wasn't the best course of action. "Robin, take the motorcycle. Nightwing, with me."

They headed back to their vehicles, leaving the semi-collapsed factory behind. The ringing was mostly gone now, but Nightwing's heart was beating out of control. He took a deep breath. He was okay. He'd be bruised for a few days and might wake up with a headache, but it was nothing he wouldn't recover from.

Robin zoomed off on the bike and Nightwing got in the passenger seat of the Batmobile.

"You're already blaming yourself, aren't you?" he said as Batman started the car.

"I should've been the one in the vents. It's my job to make sure we all get home safe."

"You were doing your other job. You know, being a detective." Nightwing rolled his left shoulder, which ached a little. "You trusted me to be careful. Shit happens sometimes. You know that."

"It happens more often to you than the rest of us."

"If you're thinking about firing me, forget it. Technically, I'm not your partner anymore. That's Robin. I've already proven I can work without you, and I will if you push me."

"Nightwing, you're fifteen. You live in my house—"

"Save it. I'm not letting you bench me again."

Batman sighed and keyed in the autopilot command. "You could have died tonight. Again."

"Believe me, nobody's more aware of that than I am," Nightwing replied. "But what if I hadn't been in the vents? What if nobody else had thought to check them? How many cops would be dead right now? I did my job tonight and I saved lives. I took enough of a break while I was recovering from my injuries, and you know how much I hate watching from the sidelines. I want to be out on the streets, helping people. I like what we do, and we all do it best when we're working together."

Batman was frowning out the windshield, silent.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll take the next few days off while my very minor injuries heal up. Then I'm going back out. Deal?"

Batman didn't reply, but since he hadn't shut Nightwing down completely either, he took that as a victory. It did come at the cost of a silent, grumpy journey home, though.

Jason arrived home long before they did and was already changed into pyjamas. Bruce steered Dick over to the med bay, where Alfred took over, and went off to change.

"What happened out there?" Wally demanded. His lips were almost colourless, and he vibrated on the spot.

"The GCPD got an anonymous tip about the child traffickers' base of operations," Dick replied, letting Alfred help him undress. "It was a trap. I found a bomb in the vents and disarmed it, but there was another one I couldn't get to in time. I went for the cleaning closet just before it went off. It must've been on the other side of the building, because it was mostly just pressure and noise."

"Where'd all these come from?" Wally pointed out the scratches and blossoming bruises mostly centered on Dick's torso.

"The walls caved in on me. I think the door caught most of it, though. And before you get mad at Bruce, it was my idea to check the vents in the first place. He was gathering evidence."

"You seem to have avoided breaking any bones this time," Alfred said. "Did you experience any hearing loss, sir?"

"Mostly ringing. It's nearly gone now."

Alfred examined his ears, while Wally gripped Dick's hand.

"I'm okay," Dick assured Wally once Alfred was finished and finally moved on to cleaning the cuts. "Bruce warned me about the second bomb in time."

Wally nodded slowly, closing his eyes. "You scared me."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Alfred set a pair of pyjamas on the cot. "Time for bed, Master Dick."

Wally helped Dick into his pyjamas and they headed upstairs.

"You mind if I stay tonight?" Wally asked.

"I was about to ask." Dick hadn't given much thought to what had happened after the explosion, but it was hard to ignore the fact he'd definitely had some kind of audio flashback when he'd heard the Joker's laugh. That didn't bode well for tonight.

"Hey." Wally nudged him, just as they reached Dick's room. "I lost you for a second."

Dick supposed he should tell him. "I think I had a flashback right after Batman found me. Just sound. But I heard the Joker laughing."

Wally pulled him close, kissing a spot on his hairline. "Did you want to wind down a bit before going to bed? I could ask Alfred to make some tea."

Dick shook his head. "I just want to sleep. Don't be surprised when I wake up screaming again."

"Of course not," Wally said wearily. But he squeezed him tighter at the same time, so Dick knew it wasn't irritation that made him talk like that. He was probably exhausted on Dick's behalf. Existing like this really was tiring, and Wally had to know that nearly as well as Dick did at this point.