A/N: Gosh, I've made you all wait so long. The only thing I can say is that I'm sorry.

A few comments about this chapter; 1) it's the second and final part of Battle for the Cowl in this Universe. 2) it's significantly less complicated than canon BftC. This is for a number of reasons (the biggest of which are that I didn't want it to end up being 50,000 words and that the kids actually like each other in this verse). 3) I've rewritten this chapter from scratch like 8 times and I finally don't hate it so I posted it basically immediately, so sorry for any typos 3

Warnings: discussion of death of a parent, canon level violence

Order of Chapters: The Doors We Open (Ch 9), How We Were (Ch 2 and 3), What We Say (Ch 5 and 7), When We Were (Ch 1), The Friends We Make (Ch 8 and 10), Family Trees (Ch 15 and 17), The Promises We Make (Ch 14), The Things We Forgive (Ch 11, 12, 13, and 18 (Aftermath)), The Roles We Play (Ch 16), Question Words (Ch 4), The Words We Can't Find (Ch 24), The Cables We Hang From (Ch. 22), The Punishments We Ignore (Ch 32), The Stories We Tell (Ch 6), The Names We Give (Ch 19 and 20), Translations (Ch 21), The Battles We Fight (Ch 33 and 34), The Ones We Lose (Ch 25, 26, 27, and 28), The Wishes We Make (Ch 30 and 31), The Pack We Protect (Ch 29)

The Battles We Fight: Part 2

Bruce's private will is read one week to the day after Clark handed Dick the empty cowl. Clark and Diana show up ten minutes before the hologram is activated. Diana's eyes are dry and her fists are clenched. Clark looks broken in a way none of them are quite comfortable dealing with, so no one says anything to him. Alfred simply smiles and nods and provides a steaming cup of tea to still the shaking in Clark's hands.

Then, before anyone is ready for the moment to come, it does and they're all in the Cave, Bruce's children on one side, Barbara, Stephanie, Clark, and Diana on the other when Alfred presses the button.

A hologram appears from the small disc Alfred had placed on the ground. It's Bruce, looking so very alive that it almost physically hurts them to look at.

In the holographic message Bruce tells each of them how very proud he is, how much he loves them, and how he wishes the world for them. Of course, he doesn't use any of those words but they understand nonetheless. Cass spends the message with her arms wrapped around Damian, her fingers pressed to his collarbones and her eyes wide. Damian stares straight ahead, trying to pretend he doesn't care even as silent tears stream down his face. He leans into Cass' touch. Tim is standing as close to Jason's side as he can manage, and Dick is holding himself carefully apart from the others.

For a small portion of the will, Bruce uses the homesign from Dick's first few years at the Manor, though the signs are largely abandoned now on favor of ASL, the Patrol Blend, and Signed English. He uses the language no one but the two of them was ever fluent in to express everything he hopes for Dick and everything he wants his first child to know. Dick stops watching halfway through. Maybe one day he would be ready, he tells himself, but just then he can't handle seeing Bruce's naked affection.

To Diana he leaves the blade she gifted him on the first anniversary of the Justice League's inception and to Clark a large sum of money simply labelled 'farm'.

Then, without another word, the hologram winks out.

"There are individual messages," Alfred murmurs from his position just behind Jason. Diana nods and turns on her heel. She's lived lifetimes longer than anyone else in this room, but death is something that never gets easier. She thinks about the determined set of Bruce's jaw, the tight pull of the muscles across his shoulders as they sparred, and something within her shifts. The grief settles deeper in her bones. She decides then and there that it's time she visited Themyscira. It's time to go home.

"Why would he do that?" Clark mutters to Dick as the others make their way to the elevator from the Cave. Jason pauses when he hears the question. He pats Tim's shoulder and pushes him towards Stephanie, who wraps her arms around him tightly. Jason moves back to stand beside Dick again. After a long moment in which Dick doesn't respond to Clark's question, Jason presses his shoulder against Dick's. It's not much, but it's an anchor to reality that he can tell Dick needs.

Clark keeps speaking, "We haven't been the same in so long. I ruined everything years ago. Why would he do that for me?" Jason knows he isn't talking about the gift of money. They all know money was nothing to Bruce. No, Clark is talking about the events that surrounded Bruce's death. He talking about the fact that Bruce died in his place.

Dick shrugged. Jason gets what he's trying to say; Dick barely understands his own emotions most of the time, how is he supposed to explain Bruce's issues? But, the despairing tone in Clark's voice has him trying to come up with something.

Superman's important, Dick finally signs, more important than Batman. Bruce knew that.

Clark shakes his head, "That goes against everything I was raised to believe. No one person is more important than any other." Dick looks to Jason for help and Jason snorts.

"Sure, in an ideal world, maybe," he snaps, suddenly furious about everything that has happened in the last week. "But, we don't live in an ideal world. Superman is a symbol of hope; Batman is… was a symbol of fear. Which one do you think the world wants around more?" He can tell his words are hurting Clark, but he doesn't care. He wants the other man to leave, he wants the family to be alone, he wants….

He wants Bruce back.

Jason never gets what he wants.

Clark doesn't say another word. Diana left and Clark leaves and soon all that is left is the family. Stephanie and Barbara wait just long enough to ensure the others weren't going to do something reckless before going themselves. Barbara whispers to Alfred that Spoiler and Batwoman would take care of Gotham and that he should keep the boys and Cassandra from suiting up for as long as he could.

Before she goes, Barbara finds Dick in the upstairs gym. Perching atop a balance beam, perfectly at ease with his precarious position, he is staring off into space with a strangely vacant look on his face.

"Dick?" She mutters. She waits for him to drag his eyes from the distance to meet hers, then she signs, You will call me if you need to. It isn't a question.

Dick stares at her. She reaches up and lightly touches his leg. He flinches.

You understand? She asks.

Dick's head jerks in the semblance of a nod. It isn't the sort of promise she hoped for, she wants him to sign and to smile and to be himself. But, she knows that sort of thing is a long time coming, if it ever happens again.

Barbara sighs and nods, "It'll be okay, Dick." The words curdle in her mouth, but she needs to say them almost as much as she thinks he needs to hear them.

She leaves, Dick silent and still behind her. It's been years since Barbara felt like she was being watched by a bird of prey when she was around Dick, but the feeling of his gaze hot on her spine is impossible to ignore.

They don't tell anyone that Bruce died. At first, it's because they don't quite want to think the words themselves, then, when the pain is less raw, they're not quite sure what to say. It's been too long to say a plane crash, the FAA would have needed to be brought in days ago. It feels cheap to say he just vanished. Anyone who knows him knows what a lie that is, but not many people really know Bruce Wayne and none of them think they can stand the idea that someone might believe Bruce ran out on his family. The gossip rags would be intolerable, especially when everyone's pain is still so raw. So, they play the long game. It's easy enough to convince the newspapers and the social elite that Bruce has taken an extended vacation on a previously secret private island. He'll have a tragic plane crash in a few months when he finally decides to return to Gotham.

Despite his reluctance, Jason takes over as the majority shareholder and CEO of Wayne Enterprises. He tells anyone who asks that Bruce wants him to have a trial run of sorts. "Just in case," he says to the board with a loose smile that makes him hate himself a little. The words burn like nothing quite has since the Lazarus pit and he wants to scream every time a Board member chuckles and slaps him on the shoulders. Everyone but Fox buys it without argument and Jason hates that almost as much. But, while there might have been murmurs of nepotism when Bruce first announced Jason as his successor, those have largely been quelled in the three years Jason has been attending board meetings. The board members like his no-nonsense attitude and knack for knowing when someone is trying to cheat them.

The days trapped in Bruce's office crawl by, pressing down on Jason in an ever increasing burden of stress and responsibility. He feels like the madness of his first year out of the pit is licking at the edges of mind but never says a word about how the whole world is slowing turning green. The family isn't ready for him to need them, not yet and maybe not ever again. If he leans on them, they might break and that's unacceptable.

In a strange way, life moves on. Jason works at Wayne Enterprises during the day and fights simulations until he can barely walk at night. Tim, Cassandra, and Damian go to school like normal, arriving home every afternoon looking wan and exhausted from the trial of pretending everything was okay all day. Damian is called to the principal's office three times in the four days they had been back at school.

None of them are quite sure what Dick spends his days doing, only that he reappears every evening looking more ragged than the night before. Cassandra fulfills her promise to herself and spars with Dick every evening until he's too exhausted to even look at his claws, much less contemplate patrolling. It's not much, but it's what she can do.

Oracle, Batwoman, and Spoiler take charge of the nightly patrols, though Barbara confides in Alfred that Kate and Stephanie are starting to show the strain of holding the entire city in control on their own.

Now, nearly a week after Bruce's will was read and two weeks after his death, Jason finds himself staring at the main map of Gotham city on the computer in the Cave. Everywhere he looks there are red dots; dozens, perhaps hundreds, of them and each represents a crime that happened in the last forty-eight hours. He hadn't had the heart to load the crimes from the entire last week.

Barbara and her team were working themselves into exhaustion, but they just didn't have the numbers to stem the flood now that the levy had broken. Batman hasn't been seen for a week and the Underground is starting to realize exactly what that means.

Gotham is going to burn if things keep on in this manner.

Jason sighs. He knows what he needs to do, but Bruce's Will had specifically told him not to do it. Jason might not have always gotten along with Bruce, but he would do his damnedest to respect the man's final order. So, instead of putting on the Cowl, Jason suits up in the Red Hood uniform. It feels odd, purposely choosing the thing Gotham doesn't need, but he just… he can't be Batman.

He goes out into the city alone. He hasn't patrolled alone in so long, it feels almost cleansing to be just the Red Hood again; to not have to worry about how hard he hits the bad guys or how many laws he's breaking. For the first time in years he puts real bullets in his guns and relishes in the kick echoing up his arms.

That night, when he arrives back at the Manor, he sleeps without nightmares for the first time in two weeks.

The night after Jason went out as Red Hood, Tim makes a decision. He's been watching the crime stats creep their way upward all week even as he has to prod Stephanie to keep her awake in class. This isn't working. Jason as Red Hood would help a little, but the Red Hood isn't what Gotham needs.

So, Tim does what he thinks (what he knows) is the right thing. He's not going out as Robin, that's not what Gotham needs. No, he's going to be the thing his older brothers can't be- Batman. Bruce had always been a bit of a packrat and Tim easily finds an old costume. It's from when Bruce was years younger and far closer to Tim's build and it fits Tim with only minor alterations needed. Then, he waits until Jason leaves again and slips from the Cave on his motorcycle.

He stole a copy of Spoiler and Batwoman's planned patrols for that night from Stephanie's phone when she fell asleep in history class, and he carefully times his route to avoid them. Black Mask had been making moves on Arkham and Tim plans to put a stop to that. Gotham can't handle a breakout on top of everything else that is going on.

There is a perch on the building across from Black Mask's hideout that Tim has always been fond of. It's one of those gargoyles Gotham is so well known for, with an overblown snarl that he's sure looks intimidating from the ground but which is just silly up close. As midnight approaches Tim makes his way across the city to the gargoyle. The trip isn't a quick one, in the two weeks since Bruce's death and Batman's disappearance from the streets of Gotham, the criminals have begun to become restless. Tim is diverted first by a small group of teenaged boys attempting to break into an electronics store. All he had to do to stop them was to stand atop the roof, let the wind take his cape, and they flee without a backwards glance. Then, it's a mugger with a knife and two swift punches from Tim. He leaves the man tied up with a beacon on his chest for the police. Three blocks later he has to duck behind a water tower while Spoiler and Batwoman pass. The mugger had delayed him enough that their paths were crossing and he had to hold very still to ensure that Batwoman wouldn't notice him. Kate was terribly perceptive and Tim felt like he stood out, despite the shadows he had hidden himself in.

But, the other two pass by without even a glance in his direction. Tim holds his breath until they are long gone. Then, he pulls out his wrist computer and updates the algorithm with their last known locations. He doesn't want to be caught after all.

Then, he reaches the gargoyle sees Black Mask in his office, ranting and gesturing wildly. Tim almost smiles, some things are nice in their predictability. But, he's being Batman right now and Batman cannot smile.

So, Tim waits and he watches. His cloak, longer than he's used to, ripples in the wind. Then, when the moment is right he pulls out Bruce's grapnel gun and aims for the corner of the high rise.

"So, what's the plan here?" The voice startles him and his right foot slips ever so slightly on the dew damp head of the gargoyle.

"Oof, and I thought I was tired." It's Spoiler, because of course it's Spoiler. He's been so careful, so precise, and Stephanie's specialty is ruining those sorts of plans.

"Spoiler," he starts to say, but Stephanie holds up her hand.

"Uh uh uh," she says, "I don't really care why you're hiding or why you're wearing Bruce's shit."

Tim stares at her. Stephanie often does this to him, especially when he's feeling less than his best. She bulldozes over his higher thinking and suddenly it's all he can do to respond coherently.

"All I want to know is whose ass we're kicking." She's standing on the edge of the roof with her left hip cocked outward and her arms crossed over her chest, her smile is obvious even behind her mask. Tim allows himself a tiny grin of his own. Yeah, Bruce never smiled as Batman, but really Tim hasn't smiled since Bruce died and it feels important to do it just then.

"His." He jerks his head towards the other building. Black Mask is visible, yelling at a henchman and the Spoiler steps up next to Batman.

"Awesome," she bumps his shoulder with her own, "Let's go get him partner."

They cross the space between the buildings in a smooth arcing motion, practiced and precise and just the sort of thing that had always made Bruce proud to see. When they are safe from the prying eyes of any guard Black Mask might have looking out the windows, Tim turns to Stephanie and taps her shoulder with his right hand.

She meets his eyes and nods. He loves her a little for that. He doesn't have the ability to explain his actions just then, to put this plan into words that make sense to anyone except himself. He's not sure how to explain how sure he is that if Black Masks is not punched in the next twenty minutes something terrible is going to happen to the city, but he is sure of that. Stephanie had been his friend for so many years that he doesn't need to put all that into words, she just cracks her knuckles into the not-silence of a Gotham night and uses her multi-tool to open the roof vent.

They slip through the ducts with the stealth that Dick spent so many hours ingraining into them and soon find themselves looking down into the hallway that leads to Black Mask's inner sanctum. Stephanie presses close to the vent and reaches back for his hand. She taps her finger three times on his knuckle and five times on the back of his hand. Three cameras, five armed opponents.

He nods his understanding and grips her wrist lightly for a moment. Wait.

He hasn't planned this far ahead, hasn't really thought anything beyond stop Black Mask, help Kate and Cass and Steph, help Gotham.

He closes his eyes to think. Tim can hear Black Mask yelling at some poor schmuck through the reinforced doors. He presses one hand to his temple, annoyed by the noise, frustrated that he hadn't already- The plan suddenly coalesces in Tim's mind. Anger. Black Masks is known for his nearly-rabid temper. If he and Stephanie can take out the guards without making any noise then it would be possible to shock-and-awe Black Mask. Catch him unaware, beat him up, take any papers or valuables they could get their hands on, and leave. The kingpin would be left off balance and furious, he'd be too angry to carry out anything approaching the calculated plan Tim currently fears is coming. It's not a very 'Batman'-like plan, but Tim thinks that Jason will approve of it if he ever finds out what they're about to do.

His eyes are still closed and with his sight cut off he can hear the guards better. There are two directly below them, he can hear the leather of their boots squeaking as they shift in their positions guarding the elevator doors. One of them smells like cold air and cigarettes. A smoker. He'll be easy to wind. The other three are guarding the door at the far end of the hall, one on each side of the door and one between them. The utility belt on the suit he took from the Cave has an entire pocket full of smoke bombs. If Tim moves through the vents to the other end of the hall, they have a chance to subdue all five before any of them make a loud enough noise to be heard through the thick door.

Tim taps Stephanie and tells her the plan with rapid flicks of his fingers. She nods, focused and slow and he's glad that she's taking this so seriously. They're being almost unfathomably stupid right now, the least they can do it be serious as they risk their lives.

Then, Tim makes his way through the duct to the vent over the three men guarding the door. On the other end of the hall, Stephanie has her small, silent screwdriver ready to go. He readies his own, and they wait. None of the criminals in Gotham were particularly patient or well-disciplined and Black Mask's goons were no different. They hardly need to wait five minutes before one of the guards below Stephanie starts muttering about some girl he and the other guard are both interested in. The other guard snorts and says something crude and the argument starts to grow in volume.

Tim raises his free hand and says I'll do a three count. Stephanie nods her understanding. They set their tools against the first of the screws holding the grate to the ceiling and Tim watches and waits. Then, when one of the men steps towards the other, Tim starts the count.

Three.

He grips the crossbars of the vent cover.

Two.

He removes the screws holding the vent in place.

One.

He uses a strong magnet kept in the back pocket of Bruce's utility belt to keep the vent from falling to the floor and holds up his fist to Stephanie can see. They drop to the floor, twin drapes of cloth and fists. Tim punches the smoker in the throat, dropping him to the hard tiles before he can react or make noise. The other two are stunned and Tim takes advantage of the few seconds between shock and action to dart forward, wrapping his arm around the neck of the shorter man. He tightens the hold and pushes off the floor, using the momentum to reach out to the last man and grasp his collar. He yanks the last man forward and slams the guard's head into the reinforced section of the cowl. The guard grunts and falls limp from Tim's hands. Then, all is silent save for the rasping gasps of the final man as Tim's choke hold slowly sends him into unconsciousness. When the man ceases fighting, Tim drops him and looks to Stephanie. She's standing over the final goon with a self satisfied smirk on her face.

As one they move to the door leading to Black Mask. Stephanie pulls out a handful of smoke pellets. Tim cracks the door open, Stephanie throws the pellets and, after a bare two seconds for the smoke to explode from the tiny devices, they burst into the room. Black Mask is standing where he was when Tim had been perched on the Gargoyle. He barely manages to turn around before Tim is on him. Stephanie sweeps across the room, dropping the guard closest to the door with a hay-maker Jason would have been proud to see before using the desk to propel herself up and over the other guard. She places her hands on his shoulders and continued over his head, yanking him towards the floor with a strangled shout.

Meanwhile, Tim is dodging the Black Mask's wild punches. The crime lord always fought with an intense frenzy that made him unpredictable at best and outright dangerous at worst. On a normal day, Tim might have relished the opportunity to fight a Rogue who actually knew what they were doing, but today, with the weight of the cape pressing down on his shoulders, all he wants to to end the fight quickly so the sick feeling of doom in his gut goes away. He leans to the side to avoid another wild punch and lets his weight follow through on the move, waiting for the perfect moment to- There! Black Mask always left his right side open after a big blow. Tim shifts his weight back towards the other man, tensing his leg muscles. Then, when Black Mask is at his most unstable, leaned forward, his back lower than Tim's chest and his eyes wide with rage, Tim throws his entire weight behind his elbow and drops him to the floor.

The blow isn't enough to knock Black Masks insensate, but it is enough to daze him. Tim uses the flexicuffs Bruce keeps in all his belts to tie his arms behind his back and his ankles together and to the base of the marble desk. Then, he stands.

Stephanie is wiping away a small smear of blood from the corner of her lip, her eyes huge and staring straight at him.

You look like him she signs and it hurts more than Tim can say. He wanted to look like Bruce when he put the uniform on earlier that evening, that was the point of this entire affair. But, now that it's been pointed out he just wanted to look like Tim again. The feeling of dread is slowly leaking from his chest he thinks he can probably breathe again. Now, he just wants to go home and to be, well, not Bruce and not Batman.

"You go," Stephanie says. She's read everything he was just feeling in the set of his shoulders or the tenseness of his eyes and she's looking out for him. He wishes he weren't in uniform so he could hug her. "I'll wait for Gordon's men to come take out the trash." She nudges the fallen man at her feet and turns the intensity of her grin up just a little bit more.

"I got this," she says and she means it. Tim nods.

It is time to go home. Time to tell his brothers that Gotham needs one of them to step up. He's willing if they aren't, but tonight has proven to Tim that they can't go on much longer without Batman. He starts back towards the Cave.

The night air clears his head and rejuvenates him and it is flushed with the heady sense of victory he hasn't felt in so long that Tim slips back into the Cave. He needs to hide the Batsuit before any of his siblings see him wearing it. He might be ready to tell them that Gotham needs Batman, but he's not sure that they're ready to see him wearing it. He wants Dick to eat at least one full meal before he has to deal with that. He angles across the room, thinking that his locker would be a perfect place to hide the suit. No one much liked opening anyone else's locker, especially since Damian started booby-trapping his. As he steps down from the entrance platform he pulls the cowl back from his head, scrubbing one hand through his sweat-stiff hair. God, he thinks, a shower is going to feel amazing.

Tim is halfway across the room when a bat-a-rang slashes past his face and clatters to the floor behind him. He jerks back in shock.

"What the-?"

He turns to see Damian crouched in the shadows at the entrance to the locker room. His small face is twisted up in a snarl of rage and Tim's heart hurts.

"Dami," he starts to say, but the boy is beyond listening to him. He pulls another projectile from his belt. Before Tim can recover from his shock, Damian is releasing a volley of bat-a-rangs and Tim is forced to drop to the ground. It's rough under his uncovered cheek, scraping against skin already worn raw by the brisk Gotham wind. The texture breaks him from his startled daze. Tim rolls to his feet and raises his hands into a defensive position.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tim shouts, "Damian stop!" His voice echoes from the spires of rock high above, repeating his plea back at him mockingly.

Damian does not stop, he reaches around his belt for more projectiles and, when he doesn't find any, he grabs his sword from his hip. Tim almost doesn't raise his bo staff in time. He'd tucked it into the back pocket of his utility belt so no one would notice Batman carrying the uncharacteristic weapon, but now the awkward place works against him. He fumbles for the release switch even as he dodges Damian's first desperate swing.

"He was MY father," Damian's voice is choked and tight, "Mine!" He grips the hilt of the sword tight enough that Tim can hear the leather of his gloves creaking, even from feet away.

"He was all of ours!" Tim argues. He feels a little like it's pointless to argue with Damian right now, the boy is so far past rational. But, he'd hate himself if he didn't at least try. "He chose us. Just like he chose to keep you here with us!"

Damian pauses, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. He stares at his blade for a few seconds, his fingers tensing and releasing. Tim thinks he's probably coming to a realization of some sort. Hopeful that the boy will listen now, he lowers his bo staff and takes a step forward.

"Damian," he says, "We're a family." It feels cheesy as shit to say it, none of them ever really talk about their relationship so openly, at least not with Damian. But, Tim thinks, maybe that sort of emotional reticence has led to this. Damian looks up from his blade and meets Tim's gaze. His eyes are chips of ice.

"No," he mutters, "He had to take me."

Damian jabs out towards Tim with the blade. Tim's bo staff easily deflects the attack in a reflexive motion, they've sparred so many times before, this is almost like breathing. Then the only sounds in the Cave are their rough pants and the dull thump of Damian's sword on Tim's staff. Wearily Tim thinks that he's going to need a new bo staff after this; it was never meant to take so many blows from a sword. The more Tim manages to deflect Damian's blows, the more frenetic Damian becomes.

"I was supposed to inherit Batman. It's the only reason I exist!" Damian says as Tim manages to twist away from a particularly vicious slash. That, that, doesn't make any sense, Tim thinks. Damian is contradicting himself and, and suddenly Tim understands what is happening.

"Are you mad because I'm Robin?" How long had that been an issue? Tim has been Robin since, well, since just after Jason died. Damian might have complained a little, but Tim had thought he was pretty happy as Crow…

Damian sneers. "Robin is Batman's heir," he hisses, "I am the only true heir. I should be Robin. You don't deserve it."

Tim snorts. The irony that they are fighting about this while Tim wears a Batman suit is almost too much to bear. He shifts to dodge another wild swing of the sword, "Kid, Bruce didn't choose to make me Robin. Hell, I had to convince Jason to let me keep it after he came back."

"Father allowed it to continue!" Tears well up in Damian's eyes. He flicks the sword forward, past Tim's staff to catch Tim on the left cheek with the tip. Tim ignores the sudden stream of blood down his face. He has had enough. He bears down with his bo staff, twisting sharply to send Damian's blade flying across the room.

"And what, you think you're ready to be Robin now? Ready to be Batman?" Now that Damian's blade is gone, Tim feels comfortable pressing his advantage. He moves forward, holding his staff against the flat of his left forearm.

A few tears escape to run down Damian's flushed cheeks. He stoops and grabs up a previously deflected bat-a-rang from the floor. Blindly he flings it towards Tim.

"Of course I-" he trails off as he straightens and sees exactly what he has just done. "Drake?"

Tim's ability to breathe is suddenly in short supply. He feels like a hand has descended from the stalactites high above to grip his lungs and wring every last bit of air from them. Damian is frozen in front of him, eyes wide and shining. His lips are slightly parted and Tim and see the faintest sliver of white teeth showing.

"Drake?" Damian says again. Tim realizes that Damian isn't looking at his face, so he follows the boy's gaze to his chest. Uh. The bat-a-rang is jutting from the center of his chest. The fabric of the bat symbol is pushed into his flesh, blood welling up around it, rapidly staining the yellow a deep red. It hadn't hurt until he looked at it, but now it burns. He hears his breath catch raggedly as a low groan escapes him. Damian reaches forward and Tim leans away from him, unable to avoid the slight flinch.

"I – I think you should go get help," Tim gasps. He's collapsed to his knees now, hands pressed tightly into his midsection. There's acid pulsing up his chest, burning away what remains of his breath. He raises his head, looking at Damian through the loose fringe of hair he's been meaning to cut. He can taste blood. "Quickly."

Damian flees.

The first light of morning finds Jason and Dick in the kitchen with Alfred. Dick is sitting cross-legged on top of the counter watching as Alfred flips pancakes. He's been making them with buttermilk and eying the amount that everyone eats for the last two weeks. Jason appreciates the extra care, even if he always feels a little queasy when presented with a full plate.

Jason takes a bite of pancakes and jabs his fork towards Dick, "I just really think the docks are where it's going to be crazy for the next few weeks," he says around the mouthful of pancake and syrup. Alfred sends him a supremely unamused look.

"Sorry," he mutters. Alfred turns to stir the stew he's preparing for dinner that night. The smell fills the room and Jason puts down the bite he had just raised to his mouth. He's starting to feel ill.

Dick, who hasn't looked away from his own full plate in fifteen minutes, raises one hands and says, No. I'll take the docks. He pulls the edge off the single pancake Allfred had tried to tempt him with and holds it out to Lola who snaps it up eagerly. She gives him a big doggy grin, seemingly immune to the pall that had fallen over the house.

Jason sighs. They're never gonna finish this patrol schedule if Dick keeps being stubborn about where the rest of them are allowed to work. Ever since Bruce died Dick has been insistent that he take all the most dangerous patrols, no matter what any of the rest of them say.

"Perhaps, it would be good to work as a team," Alfred says calmly. He adds another pancake to the solitary one in front of Dick. Jason watches as Dick picks it up, blows on it for a few seconds, and hands it to Lola. She's going to get fat if Alfred keeps stress-cooking, he thinks.

"Dick," Jason mutters. Dick looks up at Jason for the first time since he settled onto the counter nearly an hour previously. There's something raw in his expression and Jason edits what he was about to say, "I'm not talking about you taking one of the kids, I'm talking about some quality you-and-me bonding time, bro."

Dick sets his fork down, raises his hands to respond, and freezes as Damian pelts into the room.

Dick is off the counter and moving towards their little brother before Jason can push himself away from the table. Alfred clicks off the heat on the stove.

"I didn't mean it!" Damian cries when he sees them, "It was an accident and he's-" He breaks off when Jason grabs his shoulders. Lola is whining in the background, a high pitched sound that sets Jason's teeth on edge.

"Dami, what are you talking about?" Jason asks.

"I hurt Tim," Damian is almost babbling in his fear, "I didn't mean it, we were arguing. He's been going out at Batman and I was just so mad and I-"

Dick bolts from the room before another word can leave Damian's mouth.

"Alfred," Jason calls over his shoulder as he starts after Dick.

"I'll call Dr. Thompkins," Alfred cuts him off.

Jason can see Dick and Tim as soon as he enters the Cave. He bounds down the long staircase, darting across the wide space at the bottom to the large emergency medical kit attached to the side of the computer. By the time he reaches Tim, Dick has removed the cape from his shoulders and is using it to try to stem the blood flow from around the bat-a-rang that protrudes from Tim's chest.

"Is he-"

"Clear heady," Dick says. His hands are too busy to sign but Jason knows exactly what that phrase means; still alive.

There is still blood on his hands, Dick muses. He rubs his thumb back and forth across the tips of his fingers, flaking the dried blood off to fall in a gentle cascade to the floor. He's used to there being blood on his hands, it's almost inevitable after a patrol after all. But, it's still a little strange. This is his brother's blood.

He rubs at the patches a little harder. Lola presses her head down on his right knee. She watches his hands, entranced by the smell of the blood and the repetitive motions.

Tim is going to live. Leslie told them that much when she took a short break from the surgery to drink some water. He'll have a large scar just to the right of his sternum and will need weeks of physical therapy, but he'll live. Dick feels like his brain stopped processing anything after he heard that.

"I'm going to kill him!" Jason paces back and forth in front of the door that leads to the surgical theater. "That little-" He makes a violent gesture with his hands and whirls on his heel to start back in the other direction. Dick watches him for a few circuits. His thumb rubs a little bit harder at a stubborn patch of blood.

"I mean what the actual living fuck was he thinking?" Jason snaps, "Oh no, my dad died, time to kill my brother?"

Dick scrubs his fingers against his thigh. The rough fabric of his pants works a little better than his thumb. Lola allows him to do this for a few minutes before she scoots closer and rests her head on his hand, stilling its motion. Dick looks down at her and she looks up at him. He sighs.

Jason spins on his heel and starts back towards them. His eyes are bloodshot and his skin is pale. Dick thinks he probably looks the same way. They all accept that they might get hurt on patrol, they almost expect it to a degree, horrible thought that may sound. But, the idea that Tim might have died in the Cave where they were supposed to be safe was nightmarish. Even worse was the realization that it would have happened while they were eating pancakes and enjoying the first rays of weak Gotham sunshine.

When Jason gets close Dick pats Lola on the head and stands. He steps into Jason's path.

Jay, Dick signs. He feels strangely calm. The last two weeks had been the worst he can recall experiencing, but suddenly sitting in the infirmary waiting for Tim to wake up from surgery- suddenly he feels clear headed.

Jason ignores him. He's not looking anywhere near Dick's hands and Dick isn't feeling up to speaking just now.

"I just- How did the little brat think- He stabbed-"

Dick stands and moves closer to Jason. Jason he signs again, He didn't mean to. He was-

This time Jason sees. He scrubs one hand down his face. "It doesn't matter if he meant to do it. He stabbed Tim in the chest!"

Dick realizes that Jason isn't going to understand what he's trying to say. He rests a hand on Jason's shoulder. Call me when Timmy wakes up.

"Dick?"

I'm going to check on Damian.

"Dick, wait."

No, Jason. I'll be upstairs. Dick taps Lola's head and, when she looks at him, points at Jason. She moves to Jason's side and lays down.

Damian is exactly where Dick had left him two hours previously- curled up in the window seat with his arms wrapped around his knees and his head pressed forward, hiding his face from the world. Cassandra is seated just inside the door, watching with an expressionless look on her face. It is the first time Dick has seen her in three days.

"Tim?" she asks when he came in. He doesn't ask how she found out. He's sure that Alfred has already taken care of informing the rest of their little family about what has happened.

Fine, sleeping. Dick allows the un-scarred side of his mouth to rise in a small smile. Leslie thinks he'll wake up in a little while.

Cassandra nods. "Good. You should talk with Damian."

That's the plan.

She stands and stretches. Then she wraps her arms around Dick is a crushing embrace, "It's hard," she whispers into his chest and suddenly he feels like he can't swallow. He blinks rapidly to hold off the tears that want to fall. Cassandra holds him for another moment before she steps back, scrubbing at her own eyes with her fist.

"I'm going to Steph," she says, "We'll get Barbara." Dick nods. He knows the others have been told and that they're first instinct is going to be to retreat, but he also knows they all need to be in the house, to be together.

After Cassandra leaves, Dick waits a moment to see if Damian is going to acknowledge his presence, but when the boy does not move he approaches the window seat.

"Go away," Damian mutters when he draws close. He shifts slightly so he can see Dick's hands. Dick wishes he had stopped to wash the last of the blood off. "Or are you here to kill me?"

Okay, that one hurts a little. Surely Damian knows that no matter how bad things get, Dick would never hurt any of them. After a brief hesitation, Dick sits down, keeping a careful distance between himself and Damian. He doesn't want to make the boy uncomfortable after all.

Why would I be here to do that? He asks.

"That's what you do isn't it?" Damian snaps, "Kill the bad guys? Well, that's me!" He looks up for the first time, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Dick's gut lurches. It is always spectacularly painful whenever he is unable to hide his weaknesses or past from his siblings.

"It only makes sense," Damian continues, seemingly blind to Dick's sudden distress. "My mother is a villain. My grandfather is one. Why shouldn't I be?"

Why do you think you're a villain? Dick asks carefully. Jason had once told him that even when he wasn't sure how to help someone with what they were feeling he could ask the right questions and they would work it out for themselves.

"Why wouldn't I? I-" here his voice breaks raggedly, "I stabbed our brother. I nearly killed him."

I've killed people before, Dick says. People who broke far fewer laws than Timmy.

Damian is staring at him, his face filled with the strange mix of emotions that Dick thinks they are probably all struggling with. He does not stop signing.

Do you think I should kill myself? he asks.

Damian's eyes widen and he launches himself across the space between them. "No!" he cries, "No, you can't!" His arms wind around Dick's chest, gripping tightly. Dick resists the urge to smile. Damian really is upset if he doesn't see that Dick is merely using the concept as a way to illustrate how flawed Damian's thinking is. He uses one hand to tilt Damian's head so he can see what Dick is saying.

Why not? He asks when he is sure that Damian is looking.

"Because," Damian sniffs a little, "You're a good person. I don't care what you did when you were with them."

But I still chose to do those things.

"But you didn't want to!"

Did you want to hurt Tim?

Damian shakes his head, then after a moment, squeezes his eyes shut and nods minutely. "Not like that," he whispers, "I didn't want to hurt him like that. I just- How can he be so okay with everything?"

Damian's eyes are still closed and Dick's head feels too fragile to speak aloud just then, so he simply waits.

Minutes pass and the silence stretches between them, before Damian speaks again.

"I know what I did was wrong," he says, "I know Father was also his father. He was yours and he was Jason's and Cassandra's and he was mine and I miss him. Dick, I miss him so much."

Dick squeezes his arms tighter around the boy. Nothing about this situation is right and nothing he could say will make it right. All he can do is hold his littlest brother tight. The creeping thought at the back of his mind about Gotham and Batman moves a little closer to the front.

No one patrols that night.

The next morning, Dick gathers them all beside Tim's bed in the infirmary. Tim is groggy and sore, but his eyes are bright and when he sees Damian he smiles a little. Damian smiles back but does not leave Dick's side. He hasn't been further than a few feet from Dick since the previous evening.

Dick sits down in the chair next to the door. Barbara is next to Tim, holding his hand with her left while she taps away at her tablet with her right. Stephanie is curled up beside Tim, awake but pretending not to be so he'll feel comfortable resting his cheek against her hair. Cassandra is sitting with her legs draped across Jason's knees, effectively pinning him to his seat. Alfred keeps poking his head in, ostensibly to check if they need anything, but they all know it's a lie by the way his eyes linger on Tim.

This stops now, Dick says when they are all settled in. They stare up at him, each looking guilty in their own way. He starts with the easiest one.

Cass. She has the good graces to look apologetic before he even says anything. You're going to stop disappearing. I want you on patrol with one of us, he points at Jason and then himself, or Kate.

She glares at him and that is all the confirmation he needs that she has been doing something that neither he or Jason would approve of. She opened her mouth to argue, but Tim shifts and his pained intake of breath is clearly audible in the quiet room.

"Fine," she snaps out.

Thank you, Dick forces himself to smile at her. This isn't a punishment; it's just… circling the wagons. Letting all this fester has ended up with Tim being stabbed and nearly bleeding out in their home. That was a state of affairs he can't allow to continue.

Stephanie, take off at least two nights. Your teachers are getting concerned, Alfred said three of them called yesterday.

She nods tiredly. Exhaustion rolls off her in waves and Dick once again feels the stab of guilt that they have been so blind. He is sure that Kate is in the same state, though she will never admit to it. He resolves to call her as soon as they're done here. She needs the time off as much as Stephanie.

Jason he starts and then he pauses and sighs. You're right about the Docks. We'll talk about a plan later.

"You got it," Jason doesn't look happy per se, but he looks calmer than he has and that's a victory in Dick's eyes.

Now for the hard one. Dick looks at Tim. Timmy you can't be Batman.

"I don't want to be," Time protests, "But you and Jason aren't doing it and Gotham needs him. Hell, Black Mask was planning some huge shit before Stephanie and I-"

Dick cuts him off with a sharp gesture, I don't care. You aren't ready and I will not allow you to take that on.

"It's not about if you allow it," Tim says, "It's about Gotham and Bruce's legacy. We can't just-"

I taking the cowl, Dick says and the room freezes.

"Dick are you sure?" Jason sounds half-hopeful, half-terrified.

Dick sighs, Yes. Tim is right. Gotham does need Batman and we can't let everything Bruce worked for die with him. Here he pauses to make sure Tim is paying attention, But that doesn't mean that he was right to go out alone. That was incredibly reckless.

"Sorry," Tim mumbles. He doesn't really sound all that sorry, but Dick knows it's the best he's gonna get.

Good. He says, Now, we're going to do this right from here on out. No one patrols alone, everyone gets at least two nights off a week, and ALL patrols are approved by Babs, Jason, or Me.

Cassandra, Stephanie, and Tim murmur their agreement.

"What about Damian?" Stephanie asks. Damian, who is hovering in the door, arms wrapped tightly around his torso scoots ever-so-slightly closer to Dick.

He's going to train more, Dick says, with me and with Barbara until we're sure he can control his temper. No patrols until then.

Tim looks satisfied, though both Stephanie and Jason still look a little mutinous. The silence in the room begins to grow, steadily approaching oppresive before Barbara speaks.

"Come on, Damian," she rolls forward away from Tim's side. "We might at well get started." Damian follows behind her meekly. Stephanie yawns and stretches.

"Well, this has been great," she says, "But I'm going to go get at least another five hours of sleep. I only want to be woken up if Alfred makes waffles."

"It's nearly lunch time," Tim says and Stephanie smiles.

"Well, then I guess I"m not waking up until tomorrow morning." She grabs Cassandra's hand and pulls her to her feet. "You too, girl of mystery. I know you haven't slept in a few days."

As they leave the room Cassandra leans over and catches Dick's gaze.

"Thank you," she mutters. He nods.

Then, it's just Jason, Dick, and Tim left in the room. Lola takes the opportunity to jump up on the end of Tim's bed and curl up into a little ball. They sit in companionable silence until Time drifts back to sleep.

"Are you sure about this?" Jason asks as soon as Tim starts snoring.

Dick nods, then pauses and shakes his head. No, he says, I think it's a terrible idea. But it's the only one I have.

"Yeah," Jason agrees.

Yeah, Dick thinks. This is going to go terribly.

A/N: Whew. Hopefully it's okay. I feel like it's been literal years (oh hey, it has been!) since I wrote anything so who knows how good it is. Idk, drop me a line if you loved it or hated it. I'm really going to try to be better about posting more frequently. I have another chapter 90% done but it's another real heavy one (Dick's first night out as Nightwing), so I'm probably going to try and write something a little happier before that. So, if there are any fluffy chapters y'all want to see, hit me up.