A/N Thanks for your reviews and support.

Fangtasia21: thanks for your review, my friend. Yeah, that's putting it fairly mildly. This confrontation will be interesting.

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Bruce's POV

Seeing Dick paused halfway to the kitchen made the reality of the situation crash down upon Bruce. It had been more than ten years since he last saw his son. Ten years of searching and wondering if the boy now a man was alive.

Getting a call from an FBI agent saying that they had a man who fit Dick's description was a shock. There were leads over the years. People from a distance looked like their lost Robin but none of them panned out. What the FBI had that was different was a picture.

All of the male Wayne children had the same picture. It was one of the few times Alfred could wrangle them together in one spot and it did not end in a fight. Bruce received a scanned copy of the picture and knew it had to be Dick. That had him on the first flight to New York he could get. An appointment was set up to meet one Special Agent Peter Burke the next morning.

Alfred who had been watching the activities in the city alerted him to trouble. Normally it would be something for the Titans East to handle but something told him to handle it himself. Especially considering with the CIA and NSA involved. When he found Deathstroke in the middle of the mess. That wasn't surprising rumors had been going around for a few days that Deathstroke was in the country. Finding Dick there kneeling with a sword at his throat immediately put him into action.

After the fight, he contacted Alfred to get where Dick was staying. He knew that the younger man would be treated and sent home due to his own stubbornness. It was only a matter of beating him home.

The house was well kept but the security needed updating. It didn't take much to break into the house. Bruce purposely kept the door unlocked as he searched the apartment. Then he began searching the apartment for any signs that Dick actually stayed there.

Wine bottles lined the kitchen counter. Less expensive bottles were in the front while middle and high-end bottles were behind them. It was as if he was hiding the wine from someone.

On the walls were paintings from different time periods. There wasn't a single picture of Dick or anyone else for that matter. If it wasnt for the wine he would have thought it was just a spare bedroom.

Hearing footsteps he put himself in the bedroom so that he wouldn't be noticed by whoever came in. There was a chance it was Dick but there was a chance it wasn't.

This led them to the point where they were now. A Glock was pointed at his chest with cold blue eyes staring at him. There was no doubt that this was Dick but the way he held himself was different. Then the gun was lowered and Dick groaned.

Dick growled throwing his chin towards the door, "Get out. I am done with people from the past for one day."

There was a twitch of his eyebrow in annoyance. While he wasnt expecting a warm welcome that was more than he was expecting.

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest as he said, "I'm not leaving Dick. I want answers on where the hell you have been for the last decade."

Dick groaned before limping towards the closet. He almost forgot that Dick had been injured fighting Deathstroke. Besides the wound to his leg, Bruce wasn't sure where else he had been injured.

Bruce questioned with a raised eyebrow, "Where do you think you are going?"

"To change!"

Bruce wouldn't past his son to escape through some unknown passage so he stood by the door. He could hear the other moving about the closet. Then there was a muffled thump followed by a string of creative curses.

Mildly worried about the injuries Bruce moved into the doorway. A flash of amusement went through him as he saw the state Dick was in.

Dick had lost his balance it seemed while putting on a pair of shorts. Unlike the suits that he seemed to favor they were just plain shorts. They were just enough to cover the top half of his leg wound. His dress shirt was half unbuttoned revealing a few small scars that weren't there when he left Gotham.

Brushing aside his amusement Bruce questioned, "Do you need help getting up?"

Dick frowned and tried to lever himself back up. Only for his arm to give way and collapse back onto the carpet. Alright, that was enough of that.

Bruce grabbed the uninjured arm and Glock. Then he helped Dick to his feet. The younger grumbled underneath his breath but allowed it. As he left he grabbed the clean white t-shirt from where it lay. Once out of the closet they went to the couch.

Dick sank into the couch with a groan. He sat on the other side of the couch watching his son. Immediately he began to unbutton his torn and bloody dress shirt. Saving it would be impossible even without the bloodstains. The entire right sleeve was gone along with half of the left. If he remembered correctly Dick used them as makeshift bandages.

Once the buttons were undone he shrugged off the shirt wincing as he did so. Bruce's heart stopped when he saw a scarred spot on Dick's heart. It was dark and dipped in a telltale sign of a gunshot. There was another large scar on his right side. They both appeared to be several years old.

As soon as Dick caught his staring he grabbed the clean shirt and pulled it over his head. Bruce was trying to process what he had seen. His son had been shot at least twice since he left.

"What are you doing here Bruce?" Asked Dick suddenly.

Neal's POV

:Well that was a mistake,: he thought tiredly.

Despite the inconveniences, he had with nerve damage he still forgot about the scars he had. The ones who had seen him without his shirt, namely Alex and Sara learned to stop asking about them. No one but Matt knew the truth.

Bruce replied as he placed the sidearm on the coffee table, "I was planning on coming to New York if Tin didn't return within the week. Imagine my surprise when an Agent Peter Burke called to say that he may know where one of my sons was. I thought it was Tim or Damien as they come and go regularly. Until he mentioned a photo of you boys together. I knew it could only be you as the others are accounted for."

Well, that explained where his missing photo was. He was going to strangle Jones and Peter when he made it back to the office. They had no right prying into his life.

Bruce continued on, "I want to know when and how you were shot? Dick that one of your shoulder..."

Neal sighed internally before snapping, "You have no right to ask. None of you have a right to barge back into my life."

"If I hadn't you would be dead," Bruce snapped back hotly.

"Deathstroke wouldn't have killed me," maybe, "There is an... understanding between us."

Bruce pointedly looked at his leg. To be fair. Neither Neal nor Deathstroke realized it was the other. Would that have stopped him from rescuing Orion? Absolutely not. All it meant was that when possible they would stay out of each other's way.

Neither of them had been expecting to run into each other. It was years since they last came across each other. Not since before he joined the agency.

Neal said coldly, "No matter what you may think Bruce I don't owe you an explanation. My life is my own and I choose to do as I wish with it."

Before Bruce could reply Neal's phone went off. With some difficulty, he was able to pull his phone out and answered, "Caffery."

Matt said, "It's me. Orion it seems will make it. Your actions allowed him to reach the Agency's hospital in time. With some physical therapy, he will be back to being a thorn in the Agency's side in no time."

Neal replied with a small smile, "That's great. Thanks for the update, Matt. Are you coming back to my apartment?"

"Yes, I need to check over your wounds. I should be there in an hour or so."

Well, great would have to deal with both Matt's persistent nature and Bruce wanting answers. There was no talking his handler out of it either. All he could do was give an affirmative before hanging up his phone.

"Who is Matt?" Came the blunt question.

This caused Neal to laugh harshly. It was such a loaded question. No matter what he said Bruce was going to keep pushing him. Unfortunately for his adoptive father though Neal when cornered would do one thing. Run.