A/N: References to the sexual assault of minors and previous suicide attempts.

Chapter 35: Anniversary

Dick had been training on the floor for quite some time by the time the new year came around. The time had come to return to the trapeze. He pretended not to notice Bruce rechecking the safety net every few minutes when the day came.

Dick took his time chalking up his hands. Wally was hovering, but not quite close enough to be annoying. Yet.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Weird." Dick rubbed his chalky hands together. "I think I've grown since I last did this."

Wally narrowed his eyes for a moment, staring at the top of Dick's head. "Yeah, actually. I think you have. I guess you had to hit a growth spurt sometime."

Dick threw a puff of chalk in his direction, but is dissipated before it reached him. "Screw you."

"Not until you're fifty."

Dick snorted and took to the ladder. Aside from a short period of anxiety after his family had been killed, Dick had never been afraid of heights. That said, though, reaching the platform and looking down at how far he'd climbed was a little disorienting after spending such a long time on the ground.

He trusted the safety net. He knew Bruce would never let it fail. Bruce had always taken special care of it, being sure to replace and test it regularly. Dick rarely needed it, but it was nice to know Bruce was looking out for him.

Dick reached up to grab the trapeze bar. He could almost feel his father's lightly calloused hands on his, correcting his grip. It was all too easy to remember his mother waiting at the other end, bar in hand, ready to catch him when he took flight. His extended family—Aunt Karla, his cousin John, Uncle Rick—had watched from the bleachers.

It was a good memory, one that Dick refused to turn to sorrow. He pushed off the platform, his father's half-remembered voice whispering encouragements in his ear, and flung himself from one bar to the next. He let his body arc as the trapeze swung forward, twisting around at the apex to fly back to the previous one, adding in a few somersaults just because he could.

Just like riding a bike.

He got cocky, then, making his catches with his legs, twisting in mid-air. His somersaults were fine; he could do those in his sleep. But, overall, he was a little rusty. He missed one catch—one that should've been easy, if he was honest with himself—and plummeted down to the safety net.

The net bounced with the force of his impact, knocking air from his lungs but otherwise leaving him unharmed.

"Dude!" Wally streaked to the edge of the net. "You okay?"

Dick gave a thumbs-up. His breath hadn't quite returned yet. He sucked air back into his body and rolled off the net.

"Bound to happen," he said breathlessly. "It's been a while." He chuckled. "At least M'gann and Conner didn't have to save me from going splat this time."

"You never mentioned that part," Bruce said from the doorway. Dick hadn't paid him much mind, but he had probably been there the whole time.

"I didn't tell you I was going on that mission at all, remember?"

"I remember grounding you for a month afterwards."

"And then you gave up after a week because you felt bad," Dick replied.

Bruce started on a batglare, but didn't quite go through with it. "You promised never to speak of that again."

Dick shrugged. "Oops."

"I won't tell," Wally said. "I'm still kinda scared you'll chain me in a secret dungeon for the rest of my life."

"That won't happen." Bruce walked off. "Probably."

Dick laughed at the concern on Wally's face. "He was joking, Walls. Well, trying to."

"His jokes sound the same as his threats," Wally replied. "Why oh why do I always pick the hot people with scary dads?"

"I'd say Batman is a step up from Sportsmaster, at least," said Dick.

"A trash can would be a step up from Sportsmaster, babe. I used to have nightmares about him kicking down my door with a shotgun." Wally scoffed. "As if he'd use a shotgun. He'd beat me to death with a lacrosse stick."

"I had a dream about Doctor Fate vaporising me once," Dick replied. "I decided not to share that one with Zatanna. It didn't seem fair to remind her about her dad."

"Probably a good call."

Dick dipped his hands back into the chalk bucket. "Let's try this again."

"Make sure you don't miss the net when you fall again," Wally teased. Dick swatted his butt, leaving a white handprint behind.

Dick hadn't given much thought to the Joker lately, who, due in part to the severe pounding Batman had given him the last time they'd fought, was still holed up in Arkham. Dick knew Bruce kept tabs on him, but generally tried to stay out of it for the sake of his own sanity.

But Dick let himself slip on the tenth of January, the anniversary of his death, when he was staying at the manor because he felt safer further from the city on this particular day. Bruce found him in front of the batcomputer, the camera feed from Joker's cell on the screen.

"I know I should leave it alone," Dick said to him.

"Arkham and the GCPD are on high alert," Bruce replied.

"Yeah, I figured that out when they put the whole place on lockdown." Dick watched the Joker pace the width of his cell. He was limping a little, which was satisfying to see. "Has he ever..."

"Done anything?" Bruce finished for him. "No. I broke his leg a week before the first anniversary. He got the message."

"That'll do it." Dick wanted to look away from the screen, but the Joker had started making faces at the camera and he just couldn't break eye contact. "That message might not hold now he knows I'm not dead, though."

"I'll know as soon as anything happens." Bruce reached past Dick and shut down the feed. "Even if he does try something, his injuries will slow him down."

"Not if he's determined enough." Dick still gazed at the screen despite the absence of the video. "I'm not worried for myself; I know I won't get back into patrolling tonight of all nights. But the Joker's whole thing with me was to get to you anyway, and he's got more options to choose from these days."

"Robin doesn't patrol on a night like this," Bruce replied.

"What about Batgirl?"

"I mentioned it last night."

"Did she listen?"

"Probably not." Bruce helped Dick up. "The team is training this afternoon, if you'd like to try."

"Maybe I will." It'd be good to see the team again. He didn't visit them as often as he should.

"Let's go upstairs," Bruce said. "Wally said we're not allowed to let you brood while he's at school."

Dick snorted, following Bruce upstairs. "That's your influence."

"I don't brood."

"Bruce, you are the poster-child of brooding. Embrace it."

"He hardly needs encouragement, Master Dick," said Alfred, who was dusting the room they'd entered from the batcave.

"You've got a point, Alf."

Bruce waved his hand as if he could erase the conversation. "You haven't seen the new running track behind the manor, have you?"

"I don't get out much," Dick replied.

"Want to try it out?"

Dick shrugged. "Okay." He could sense a 'bonding session disguised as training' moment coming on. They used to do it with basketball games all the time. Then he'd died, and things hadn't been the same since.

They had to pile on the layers before heading outside. The cold bit at every inch of exposed skin. Bruce's nose was pink before they even reached the running track. Dick was shivering so badly he thought he as about to shake his top layer off. He rarely went outside these days, which had apparently wreaked havoc on his tolerance for temperature extremes.

They headed for the track at a jog to get the blood circulating. Dick felt slightly less frozen by the time they'd skirted around the pool building and down the grassy slope to reach the track. It was just as well Bruce had invested in a synthetic material; gravel would have been reduced to slush in this weather.

Despite the cold thoroughly stabbing Dick's throat and nostrils, it was nice to be out here. He and Bruce took a moment to stretch.

"I found a judge willing to visit the manor this week so we can sign the adoption papers," Bruce said.

"Thanks," Dick replied. He felt too exposed in the city at the best of times. Any energy he could've spent working on that was instead devoted to dealing with the manor.

"Do you still want it?"

"I do." Dick put one leg ahead of the other and bent forward to stretch his calves, palms pressed flat against the track. "It means a lot to me. Let's not get weird about this." Emotions were often awkward with Bruce, but awkward was better than the distance that fell between them whenever either he or Bruce couldn't deal with how they felt.

Bruce chuckled. "I'll try."

They jogged.

"Wally was concerned about you," Bruce said as they eased around a corner.

"I know," Dick replied. He'd had to convince him not to skip school.

"Should he be?"

"You're not subtle, Bruce. I think I'm okay." He didn't feel bad, aside from his obsessive moment with the Joker, but he didn't exactly feel good either. It was like he was hanging from a ledge; he was strong enough to stay there for now, but it wasn't the safest place to be.

Bruce watched him, a frown ready as ever. "We don't talk about it much anymore."

"We don't," Dick agreed. It had been buried under a whole host of other problems, which, on top of shunting his death to the sidelines, also made it very difficult for him to discuss anything without falling apart. He'd only just started getting better on that front, but, with the retrial hanging over him, that was likely to change.

"We should," Bruce said.

"Probably."

"You used to talk more." It didn't sound like an insult. "I could never shut you up."

"Gotta be in the mood for it these days," Dick replied.

Bruce had a look about him, the kind that usually resulted in him hiding out in the batcave for days. "I should've been more vigilant."

"B, we've been over this." This conversation made Dick tired. "I went after the Joker by myself while you were busy fighting and I forgave you for not saving me a long time ago."

"I know." Bruce didn't sound happy about it. "But when I brought you home from—"

"Do I want to hear this?"

"Dick, Ra's replaced your body with a latex replica. If I'd looked inside the coffin when I brought you home, I would've known you weren't in it."

"Huh. I had wondered about that."

"I just—I couldn't..."

"I get it," Dick replied as soothingly as he could. He wasn't in the best state to be comforting anyone, let alone Bruce, but he owed it to both to them to try at least. "I don't like looking at dead people, either, especially when they're people I care about. Ra's would've known that."

"He didn't, actually," said Bruce. "He didn't expect me to know at a glance it wasn't you. He was working with the assumption I wouldn't perform an autopsy, not that I wouldn't look at you at all."

"Can't say I like the idea of being cut open. Not that it would've mattered since it wouldn't have been me anyway, but, you know. Kinda gross."

Bruce seemed to respond to the humour better than outright comfort, brightening a little as they continued down the track. But it only lasted a moment.

"Dick."

"Yes?"

"The Pit. Was it as bad as Ra's—"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" The memories of green, drowning, burning, screaming, burst unbidden into Dick's mind and he regretted, not for the first time, that M'gann had needed to return that memory to him.

"He didn't say much," Bruce said, registering Dick's interruption but apparently not what he'd actually said. "Only that it damaged you."

"It did," Dick replied. "I barely remembered it until M'gann reconstructed the memory to check my mind for indoctrination. With everything else that's happened, I'm not sure where it ranks on my list of Worst Experiences Ever, but it's definitely one of the most painful things I've ever experienced. Might even top the list. I don't know. It's hard to compare it with what the Joker did, because the pain he inflicted on me and the pain I felt in the Pit are so different." It was also hard to compare because Dick really, really didn't want to think about it enough to come to a conclusion. "Strange to think we've never talked about this before."

"You weren't ready," Bruce said, "and neither was I."

The track was a little slicker up ahead. The pair slowed down to compensate.

"I wonder how much the Pit still influences me sometimes," Dick said into the silence, "and how much it contributed to me developing PTSD."

"There could be a link," Bruce agreed. "We don't know much about the Lazarus Pits and how they can influence the mind over long periods of time, and it was a traumatic experience unto itself. None of that invalidates your condition."

"I know," Dick replied, "but thanks for saying it." He could hear a ghost of the Joker's laugh, almost inaudible, and he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. "You know I still hear the Joker sometimes? Not much, but when I'm reminded of what happened..."

"Do you hear him now?"

"A little."

"We'll take the shortcut up ahead," Bruce said. His tone was jarringly matter-of-fact, but it was more of an effort not to panic than real distance. "We can be back in the manor in a few minutes."

"It's not too bad," Dick said, focusing extra hard on the trees and the feeling of his sneakers hitting the track and the cool air soothing his eyes.

"We're not taking chances today," Bruce said firmly, steering Dick to take the right side of the fork ahead. "Take it easy."

"Says the guy who thought taking me for a run would be the perfect time for a heart-to-heart." But Dick let Bruce take him back to the manor. His nose was numb, so maybe it was for the best.

For a while, Dick was able to pass off his shakes as having been brought on by the cold. Several minutes into sitting by the fireplace with a cup of hot cocoa, however, the excuse wasn't holding water anymore. Bruce had him tucked into his side, rubbing the arm not pressed against his chest.

"Will you be up to talking to Barbara today?" Bruce asked.

"I'll be fine." Dick took a long, fortifying draught of his drink. "It'll mean more coming from me."

"It's okay if you change your mind later," Bruce assured him.

"I know." It was still nice to hear. "Thanks." Everyone around Dick had been careful to preserve his autonomy as much as possible throughout these various shitstorms in his life.

"We forgot to watch It's a Wonderful Life at Christmas," Bruce said suddenly.

Dick shrugged. "Easy to forget when I haven't been around for a few Christmases, I guess."

"You loved that movie. You used to pester me every Christmas until I watched it with you."

"I was very young, B."

"You're still young."

Dick laughed, a little ruefully. "I don't feel it."

Bruce squeezed him. "We should watch it. Maybe we'll find your lost youth on the way."

Dick jammed his elbow into Bruce's ribs. "You're not funny."

"I'm sorry. I tried."

Dick drained the rest of his drink. "I'm gonna need more cocoa before I can deal with you trying to make jokes."

"That can be arranged."

"All right. Get the movie running while I grab some more of this from Alfred."

Bruce ruffled his hair as they both got up. "Sure thing, kid."

"Psh. Kid."

By the time Dick got back with a full mug, Bruce had fired up the entertainment system and was frowning at the back of the DVD case.

Dick set a second mug for Bruce on the coffee table. "Something wrong?"

"How much do you remember about the plot of this movie?" Bruce asked him.

"All of it," Dick replied. "I mean, we did watch it every... oh. You're worried about the suicide thing." He settled himself back on the couch.

"Today might not be a good day for it, is all I'm worried about."

"I'll be fine," Dick assured him. "The whole plot's about George learning his life's worth living. And I haven't been suicidal for a while now anyway."

Bruce gazed down heavily at him. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Put it on already. Your drink's getting cold."

Dick heard voices and soft, affectionate laughter. He burrowed into Bruce's chest, resisting the urge to open his eyes. Bruce's chest rumbled with a laugh and a large hand stroked Dick's hair.

"I'm surprised you made it through the movie, champ."

Dick grumbled into the man's shirt. Someone else laughed nearby, someone younger.

"Maybe I should come back later," said Wally.

Dick reached blindly in the direction of Wally's voice.

"You better get over here," said Bruce. "He gets cranky when he's half-asleep." Dick pinched him. "That's not helping your case, Dick."

The couch dipped on Dick's other side. "Cool it, babe. I'm here."

Bruce tipped Dick into him. "Enjoy your new pillow, Dick."

Dick wrapped his arms around Wally's neck. With a snicker and a few footfalls, Bruce was out of the room.

"Traitor," Wally muttered. "How are you, babe?"

"Shh." Dick tried to grasp at the remnants of sleep, but it was slipping through his fingers like smoke. Fingers brushed against the nape of his neck. It tickled.

"I could carry you to bed if you like," Wally offered.

"As if you could," Dick replied. He yawned, stretching away from Wally, and finally opened his eyes. "I'm awake now anyway."

"Are you coming to Mount Justice?"

"I need to talk to Batgirl," Dick replied. "I'm not gonna train, though. No one needs to see me having a panic attack if I fall on my ass today."

"Speaking of which, how have you been today?"

Dick shrugged. "Not too bad. Nearly fell into flashbacks earlier but I stayed grounded so it wasn't as bad as it could've been." He had to laugh before he got sucked into a black hole of what the fuck even was his life anymore. "That sounds so messed up."

"Just a little," Wally replied.

Dick stretched his legs out in front of him; they were getting a little stiff. "Have you eaten?"

"Alfred made me the world's biggest sandwich. Like, I couldn't even get my mouth around it." Wally fell back against the couch, sighing contentedly. "It was everything I wanted in life. And now it's gone."

"It died for a good cause," Dick replied. "Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are, sure. I picked my costume up from home before I came here."

They changed in the batcave before taking the zeta tube to Mount Justice. Dick felt a little funny dressed as Nightwing today, like he was a child wearing an older sibling's clothes.

Most of the team had already assembled, in various states of warming up. Dick sank into a right leg split between Artemis and Miss Martian. His muscles were a little tight today, so it was worth stretching them out even if he didn't plan to train with the team.

"The fact you can do that cold makes me hate you," Artemis said as a greeting.

"I'm warm," Nightwing replied. "Well, half-warm. B and I went jogging earlier. Is my nose still red?"

Artemis rolled her eyes at him. "So vain."

"Your nose is fine," Miss Martian said.

"Thank you." Nightwing bent backwards to grab his ankle, leaning forward again to bend his back leg for an extra stretch. He probably could've poked himself in the head with his toe if he were so inclined.

"Showoff," Artemis muttered.

Miss Martian joined him in the splits—Nightwing could see her muscles shifting to accommodate the stretch. "I can see why flexible humans do this all the time. It's fun."

The zeta tube came to life at that point and Batgirl stepped out.

"You warm, BG?" Nightwing called to her as she crossed the room. "We're making Artemis feel bad about herself."

"Sounds good." Batgirl slowly lowered herself into the splits.

"I can do it when I'm warm," Artemis said.

"Then get warm," Batgirl replied. "Chop chop."

"I will kick you in the face, new girl."

Nightwing let his foot fall and swapped his split to the other side. "Somebody's stalling."

"Eat me."

Nightwing grabbed his back foot to pull it into the stretch. "I would, but I'm spoken for."

"Right." Artemis set her legs in front and touched her toes.

"Anyone I've heard of?" asked Batgirl.

"Maybe," Nightwing replied. "I'd tell you, but then I'd have to get Zatanna to wipe your memory."

"Aren't you a little young to have a secret lover?"

Nightwing almost choked on his own spit. Kid Flash was pissing himself at the other end of the room.

"Well, it's not so secret anymore, Batgirl," said Artemis.

"I'm just trying to protect the kid's innocence."

Nightwing laughed so he didn't burst into tears. "Thanks."

Artemis seemed to sense the danger there and quickly changed the subject. "So, Batprincess," she said, tucking one leg in close so she could better stretch the other one, "how's Gotham treating you?"

"It's been quiet," Batgirl replied.

Nightwing eased out of his split, giving his muscles and joints a brief break. "It'll pick up again. It always does."

"And you're still not patrolling."

"I'm not happy about it," Nightwing replied, "but it's complicated. Personal stuff." He shuffled backwards for more room and lowered himself into a centre split, though the last few inches to the floor didn't come as easily as they normally did. "Hopefully I'll be back in a few months."

"Must be really complicated." Batgirl matched his split.

"I would tell you, but it's all tied up in secret identity stuff," Nightwing assured her. "I'm sure Batman tell you who we are eventually. It's not like you're wearing the costume for kicks."

"The way he talks to me sometimes makes me wonder," Batgirl muttered.

"He's like that with most people," Nightwing replied. "If he starts being too nice to you, you've probably just been traumatised."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Black Canary arrived in the zeta tube and the team got up to meet her.

"Can you stick around afterwards?" Nightwing asked Batgirl. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

Batgirl shrugged. "I guess?"

Nightwing kept stretching as he watched the team spar from the sidelines. Black Canary had the ranged fighters practising their hand-to-hand. Artemis wasn't having any trouble with that, since she was equally skilled in both. Miss Martian's shapeshifting abilities meant she could add and subtract muscle when necessary for a fight. Zatanna was the most disadvantaged when she didn't have time to shoot off spells, but she could still hold her own. It was endlessly satisfying to watch her give up on magic and just deck whatever bad guy was trying to take her out on a mission.

Zatanna plopped down on the ground next to Nightwing when Black Canary gave them a break. "Hey. How are you today?"

"Hanging in there," Nightwing replied. "I've had a few not-great moments, but nothing's gotten a real hold on me yet. You're the first person to ask outside of Wally and the family."

"M'gann didn't want to upset you," said Zatanna, "and the others weren't sure how to handle it."

"I figured as much."

"M'gann was thinking we should do another movie night. Not too late, obviously, because some of us have school tomorrow."

"I'm game," Nightwing replied.

"We'll pick something happy."

Black Canary called the team back to train some more. Nightwing ducked into the lounge area to dig through their communal movie collection. He'd found a handful of films he wouldn't hate to watch by the time the team finished training and Batgirl sought him out.

"All right, Boy Wonder..." She flopped onto the couch. "What's this about?"

Nightwing set the DVDs aside and joined her. "I wanted to talk about patrol tonight."

"You said you'd be back in a few months."

"This isn't about me." Actually... "Okay, it kind of is, but not in the way you're thinking."

"Is it about Batman telling me not to patrol tonight?"

"Yeah. Did he tell you why?"

"I usually stop listening the instant he tells me not to do something."

Dick snorted. "I know the feeling. But he's got a good reason this time. Remember how I died?"

"I try not to."

"It happened today, three years ago." Dick adjusted his gloves, just to give himself something to do. "The Joker's never done anything on the anniversary before, but this is also the first time he's known I'm alive on the day. Robin's not patrolling. I'd appreciate it if you didn't, either. Just in case."

"I can take care of myself, Nightwing," Barbara said, with more than just a hint of irritation.

"I know," Nightwing said quickly. "This isn't about that. The Joker likes to use Batman's partners to get to him. I'm not patrolling, so I'm out of his reach." Thank God. "His next-best option would be Robin, but he's out of reach, too. That leaves you. I'm not asking you to stay in because I don't think you're capable. I'm asking because I don't want him going after you if he gets out of Arkham. That would be bad for both of us."

"Both of us?"

"I'm not exactly at the peak of mental health here, Barb."

Batgirl watched him for a moment, making Nightwing feel like she could see right through his mask. "All right," she finally said. "I'll stay home tonight. But only tonight."

"That's all I ask," Nightwing said, relieved. "Thank you."

They headed back out to the main chamber together. The rest of the team was still cooling down.

"We might be having a movie night," Nightwing said. "Interested?"

"Maybe another time," Batgirl replied. "I'm not making excuses so I can patrol, I promise. I've got some homework I've been neglecting. Ever since I found out my old history teacher was a... well, history homework isn't the highlight of anyone's day under normal circumstances."

"How's the new teacher working out?" Nightwing asked.

"She's not bad." Batgirl shrugged. "Nothing special. But I think we've had enough special for a lifetime. I should go. See you later."

Dick and the team changed into civvies as soon as she was gone. It was a relief, honestly, to feel like himself again. Today wasn't a great day for costumes.

"Zatanna told you about movie night?" M'gann said when Dick returned to the main chamber.

"I'm up for it," Dick replied. "I looked at our DVD collection while you guys were trying to kill each other."

"Oh, you're so funny," said Artemis.

"I am. Thanks for noticing."

Wally slung his arm over Dick's shoulders. "Let's get this show on the road."

Dick spent most of the night cuddled up to Wally on the couch with M'gann resting against him on the other side. She'd broken out the blankets twenty minutes into the first movie and Jason had whipped up some hot cocoa that was a fairly close approximation of Alfred's masterpiece.

A rare feeling of safety washed over Dick, warming him almost as much on its own. Kaldur nominated himself as the team's runner, fetching refills and food and more blankets before anyone else could even think about getting up, resting his hand on Dick's shoulder whenever he passed.

Dick fell asleep again shortly after they started the second movie and wasn't quite able to avoid slipping into a nightmare. Wally pulled him out of it, whispering soothingly in his ear while M'gann stroked his arm. Kaldur leaned against the back of the couch and carded his fingers through Dick's hair, hesitantly at first, but gaining confidence when Dick didn't brush him off. The rest of the team squeezed closer together, forming a protective barrier between Dick and everything outside the room.

"I'm okay," Dick said quietly as his heart stopped pounding against his ribcage. "Thanks, guys."

Wally kissed his forehead. "We've got you, babe."

"I know." Dick let out a long breath, taking with it the tension from his nightmare. He was glad M'gann had thought of doing this. Waking up in safe place surrounded by his friends was infinitely better than waking up in a house he could barely stand on his good days.

The team stayed with him long after they should have gone to bed for school, ignoring Dick's reminders. He stopped trying after a while, content to stay wrapped up in his blanket with his friends watching over him.