Whoa, this is a thing. You know? The Heretic and Injustice!Nightwing really weren't supposed to be a thing in this story. But I have so much fun writing them, ugggh.

(Before asked, I don't know who the woman was with Bruce. I'll be honest - I forgot I wrote her in there in the later part of the chapter. Let's just say she left right after the noise.)

"Knight did tell you that you were free to go, right?" Nightwing hummed as he sauntered into the library. The Heretic looked up sleepily from the sofa, where he was curled around Alfred the cat. Damian barely spared the vigilante a glance. "Your lockdown was over two weeks ago."

"Of course he did." Damian sounded regal. Nightwing thought he looked it, too, sitting on top of the giant bookshelf by the window. There was a stack of volumes beside him, not to mention the one perched awkwardly in his lap, and Nightwing couldn't help but wonder how he got them up there. "What are you doing here, Nightwing?"

"Just checking on my two favorite not-brothers," Nightwing grinned, rubbing the Heretic's head. The little boy smiled and closed his eyes. Alfred whacked at Nightwing's hand, annoyed by the man taking away the child's attention. "And…still no luck in figuring out how to get to my own universe, so I figured I'd take a quick break."

This made Damian look up. He stared at the man and the child for a moment. "I'm…sorry."

Nightwing shrugged. "What are you two doing?"

"Reading!" The Heretic exclaimed, gesturing to the books sprawled around the sofa.

"Researching," Damian corrected. "If Grayson and Todd have any chance, they'll need a place to start."

Damian didn't need to elaborate. Nightwing had seen for himself how much his other-self and the Todd person had thrown themselves into tracking down any sort of lead on resurrection they could. "Oh, I don't know," Nightwing said thoughtfully. "They seem to have themselves a pretty good start."

"Please," Damian scoffed. "They wouldn't know where to look even if my grandfather gave them the exact coordinates."

"It's the thought that counts," Nightwing laughed as he began climbing the bookshelf. When he reached the top, he plopped down on the other side of the stack of books, flicking the cover of the top book open. "So what's with the change of heart?"

"Meaning?" Damian went back to the novel in his hands. It took him a few seconds to flip the page properly. Nightwing found that, since the battle, he too was having trouble touching the simplest of living world objects. The question of how Damian and the child got all of these books out and in their various positions once again floated through Nightwing's mind.

"You've been dead over a year, buddy. It never seemed to bother you before." Nightwing mused. He scanned the first page of the book he'd opened and scrunched up his face. He looked back up at Damian. "So why now?"

Damian sighed, looking down to the floor at the Heretic. "I'd forgotten."

"Forgotten what?"

"Forgotten how…pleasant it was to be with them." Damian muttered quietly. "Well, Father, Grayson and Pennyworth anyway. Todd and Drake to an extent, I suppose."

Nightwing smiled. "You miss them. And that thing we went through a couple weeks ago…it reminded you just how much."

"There are only two options in reuniting myself with Father." Damian said in attempt to ignore Nightwing's accusations. "And any of them dying is not to be considered. At all. So that leaves only one way."

"You won't let them come to you," Nightwing nodded. "So you'll go to them. Makes sense."

"Of course it does, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it." Damian snapped.

"What about him?" Nightwing inclined his head downwards, to the little boy sitting nose-to-nose with the cat. Damian's eyes noticeably dropped.

"I…I don't know." Damian admitted. "He has no body to return to that I'm aware of. And even if he did, it doesn't…I'm not sure how to say this. It doesn't match him. It wouldn't be suitable."

"I don't think he would mind, so long as he was with you and Bruce." Nightwing offered.

"To rephrase. I wouldn't find it suitable." Damian said. His voice became a little darker. "My younger brother deserves better than what mother gave him – a genetically mutated body of an adult male that was grown inside of a whale."

"Gross." Nightwing shivered. "At least she gave him a good name, right? To make up for that?"

"No." Damian's tone was clipped. "She didn't give him one."

"Wait, Mini-Me down there doesn't have a name?" Nightwing asked incredulously. "What the hell do you call him, then?"

Slightly embarrassed, Damian returned to the book in his lap. "Terms of endearment."

Nightwing stared at him for a moment. "Dami, you should name him."

"I should do no such thing."

"Why not?"

"Because it is not my place. I am not his parent, I am his brother." Damian didn't look up at him. He flipped the page of his book, an easier task this time around. "And even then, it is a technicality. He is my clone."

"He exists, and is a separate entity from you, but with similar DNA. That is brother enough." Nightwing smiled. "I still think you shoul-"

Damian suddenly shouted a curse, slamming his book closed. Without him touching it, it flew off his lap, slamming into the opposite wall hard enough that a few pages broke loose, fluttering down slowly as the volume slammed to the floor. The Heretic jumped, Alfred hissed, and Nightwing could hear voices echoing through cracked door of the library from somewhere else in the house – a man and a woman. As the pages landed softly, Nightwing looked back at Damian. His knees were drawn up to his chest and his hands were tangled in his hair.

"Damian, how long have you cooped yourself up in here?" Nightwing asked gently. "How long have you been researching?"

"Since before Father went on his mission," The Heretic answered quietly as Damian buried his face against his legs. "And has continued, even though Father has returned for a few days recuperation."

"And no breaks?"

"No breaks," the child on the ground confirmed. Nightwing took another look at the books sprawled across the library. He hadn't noticed before, but there were some in the similar disarray as the one Damian just launched. It seemed this hadn't been the first time Damian got frustrated.

"It's okay, Dami," Nightwing said softly, putting a hand on Damian's shoulder. His muscles were tight, and the child was shaking.

"It's not okay." Damian's voice was muffled. He wouldn't look up. "It shouldn't be this hard. It is a simple concept."

Nightwing rubbed the boy's back as the Heretic set about calming Alfred down. They remained in silence, listening as Bruce assured whomever he was with that there was no one upstairs, nothing to worry about. It was an old house, it has its creaks and groans. Sure, of course I'll check it out later, after you leave. Yes, I'll give you an update next time I see you.

Damian's muscles tightened under Nightwing's hand. "I just…I want to go home."

"I know you do, Dami." Nightwing cooed, not mentioning the fact that they were already in his house. "Have a little faith in your brothers. They'll get you there."

"I…I want to be with Father." Damian's voice became a little watery. "I just want to be with my father."

As if on cue, the library door opened further. Bruce and Alfred walked in, taking stock of the mess. The cat looked up at them, bored. Alfred sighed, bending over to start picking up the loose-leaf papers. Bruce slowly walked into the room, sitting on the sofa as he lifted up a book by his feet.

The Heretic bounced next to him, a wide grin spreading on his face. "Damian, do you think he could hear me?"

Damian finally looked up, the grip on his hair loosening as his hands shifted from his head to the back of his neck. "Probably not, little one."

"Does Bruce know you two have been in here?" Nightwing asked.

"No. Father rarely uses the library anymore." Damian said. "I don't think he's been in here since, at least, his last run in with the Joker."

Bruce's brows furrowed as he read the title of the manual in his hand. Then he leaned down and picked up another one, scrutinizing it in the same way, and repeated the action with a third.

"Do you think he'll know it was you?"

"He is the Batman. What do you think?" Damian's voice was snide, and had the tone of humor. But it only lasted a second. "It's upset him."

Bruce's face seemed to crash with every book he picked up off the floor. Alfred excused himself, claiming the library needed a dusting anyway and went off to find the proper supplies. The cat mewed softly, crawling across Bruce's arm and forcing the books out of his hands.

"Oh, Damian…" Bruce muttered. He gently ran his hand across the cat's head. "You don't need to do this. Dick and Jason have already gotten enough help."

"See?" Nightwing smiled, patting Damian's back. "If Bruce has faith in them, you should too."

"You should be relaxing, son." Bruce sighed, glancing out the window. "You've done too much as it is."

The Heretic leaned against Bruce's arm, though the man didn't seem to feel it. Bruce continued to stroke the now-purring Alfred on his lap. Human Alfred returned a few minutes later, a broom and feather duster in hand. The butler remained quiet, though hummed a happy tune as he worked.

"You're not finding what you want to, are you?" Bruce whispered. Alfred barely paused in his humming. "It's maddening, I know. Jason went through the same thing yesterday. I found him last night near Crime Alley, taking his frustration out on some poor car thief."

Damian blinked, surprised that it was Todd getting angry already, as opposed to Grayson, who has wanted this much more, much longer, than any of them.

"There's no easy fix to this one. It will take a long time. They want to do it right. I have no say of whether what they're doing is correct or not, but I want them to do it right." Bruce was still quiet as he looked back from the window, eyes scanning the room. His gaze came upon the stack of books on top of the shelf, and he smiled. "And I think they would be insulted to find out their little brother was doing all of their research for them. After all, they've already banned Tim from any every computer and archives we have for the same reason."

Damian uncurled his legs, and suddenly zapped himself from the bookshelf to sitting on Bruce's other side. Unlike the Heretic, Damian didn't move closer to Bruce, but instead just sat there, staring up at his face with a look of respect and longing.

"But if anything, I'll tell them these were the types of books you were looking in." Bruce blinked, glancing at the collections beside him. His face scrunched again as he reached for one. "Though, why these books are even in the Wayne library, I'll never know."

"Perhaps it's time to do a sort of inventory, sir." Alfred quipped from behind the sofa.

"Perhaps, indeed." Bruce agreed, tossing the book gently back to the ground. "Maybe after my nap."

"You? Sleep?" Alfred scoffed.

"Fine. Relax." Bruce rolled his eyes as he shifted back, throwing his arms across the back of the couch. The cat meowed as he climbed up Bruce's chest. "After I relax."

"May we take a break too, Brother?" The Heretic asked, peeking over the cat's body. Damian nodded, eyes never leaving Bruce's face as he leaned back against the arm of the sofa and brought his feet up onto the cushions.

"The Wayne boys? Relaxing?" Nightwing cried, lying on his stomach, feet disappearing through the ceiling as he cocked his head in mock-confusion. "Have pigs started to fly?!"

Damian rolled his eyes, but continued to watch both his cat and his brother make themselves comfortable against Bruce's torso. His father had already closed his eyes, listening as Alfred hummed around the room. "Hey…little one?"

"Hm?"

"Did Mother give you a name?"

"Not that I'm aware of." The Heretic replied. "Other than titles. But no names like Bruce or Timothy or Jason."

"I see." Damian mused. He glanced up at Nightwing. "Would you like one?"

"I don't need one."

"That's not what I asked." Damian responded. "I didn't ask if you needed one, I asked if you wanted one."

The Heretic looked down, burying his chin against Bruce's shirt. "I don't deserve one."

"Nonsense." Nightwing chipped in. "Everyone deserves a name, no matter their perceived crimes."

"What do you wish to be called?" Damian asked. The Heretic looked between Damian and Nightwing, a grateful and amazed smile in his eyes.

"Whatever you wish to call me, Damian." The Heretic giggled, hiding his face against Bruce's chest again.

Damian thought a moment, watching as Alfred came around from the back of the couch and moved towards the shelves. He then looked up at Nightwing. "Suggestions?"

"Richard's always awesome," Nightwing cackled, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Hell no." Damian deadpanned.

"Well, damn. I think I'm all out of ideas, then." Nightwing sat his chin against his forearms. Damian bit his lip as he looked back at the child in front of him. "But I'm sure you'll think of something, Dami."