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Bruce's POV

Internally he winced at the sound of the harsh laugh. It was not the carefree laugh he had known for almost a decade. Even when he was leading the Titans, Dick didnt laugh like that. It was disconcerting to hear.

Bruce was honestly worried about his son. Everything was pointing to over a decade of hardship. The most concerning thing was the bullet wound to the shoulder. The way that Dick reacted to his questions gave hints at more training than what Bruce gave.

It left him with more questions than answers. The most pressing was who was who was Matt? The next most pressing was what kind of agreement did Dick have with Deathstroke?

"He is my friend. That's all you need to know," answered Dick coldly.

There was more to it than that. Bruce wasn't stupid. Matt must have some tie to the CIA or NSA. In turn, Dick must have one as well. It was the only way to explain why he was at an interagency raid.

Bruce had an idea of where he could find answers. On the kitchen counter had been a box. While he didn't get the chance to look at it before his son returned it would hold answers. If he had to guess the blood-stained jacket would as well.

If Dick was part of one of the agencies then he would have carried his id on the raid. It would also explain why he was off his anklet. Working with one of the agencies would keep the FBI from tracking him. If he needed to do something less than legal it would be the perfect time.

Bruce asked coolly meeting Dick's gaze, "What agency do you belong to? Don't take me for a fool, Richard. I know that was an interagency raid with the CIA and NSA. I will find out which you belong to regardless of whether or not you tell me."

If he had to guess it was the CIA. They seemed better suited to Dick's temperament. The NSA would have tried to curb the young man's temperament. Or turn it into something more destructive. As it stood his son was destructive enough.

The silence continued and Bruce could feel his frustration mounting. Dick was not going to answer him. That in itself was an answer in itself. If he wasnt an agent from the CIA or NSA then he would deny it vehemently.

So he questioned, "Why? You don't like guns, never have. Yet you joined one of the intelligence agencies. It doesn't make sense."

Dick sighed as he rubbed at his shoulder. There was a distant look in his eyes that scared Bruce. As Batman, he had seen that look more than once. Normally it came from officers who dealt with the Joker and those who came back from war. That look had no business being on his son's face.

"No one wanted me to stay in Gotham, Bruce," whispered Dick dully, "Graham offered me a place to do some good in the world. I don't regret what I became as I saved countless lives. The only thing I regret is making my friends believe I was dead."

What?! They did want him in Gotham with them. Why did he think that they didnt?

Bruce questioned softly, "What do you mean? Of course, we wanted you back in Gotham. Why did you think otherwise."

Cold fury flared within the blue eyes as Dick snapped, "When was the last time any of you actually saw me before I disappeared? When it wasn't for patrol. Do you remember? What about the day all the files were deleted? Do you know what day that was?"

Bruce froze in shock. He knew the boys were having one of their rough patches. They had one every few months. It always seemed as if they would work through it. Only this time Dick disappeared and that was what brought them back together. The search for their missing brother.

Dick bent his head down gripping his hair tightly within his fists. There was more pain in his posture that was emotional than any physical pain from his wounds. They had done a disservice to Dick. Now it was all on how to fix the damage that had been done. If it was even possible that was.

Dick's voice broke as he continued, "I... I am so tired of being used. It doesn't matter where I go. Gotham, CIA, Fulcrum I am constantly being used. The FBI is the first place that accepted me for who I am. They expect the best from me and Peter pushes me to be a better person. Not just a conman. A person who has feelings that matter. They don't use me like a tool to be discarded as soon as I'm not needed."

Was that really how he felt? Bruce never thought of Dick as a tool. Then again their dysfunctional family did always have difficulty expressing their feelings. Or even just basic communication. He was just as bad as the kids. Only Alfred had any semblance of normal communication skills.

There was only one thing he could say. It wouldn't make things right between them but maybe it could start mending the bridges. He did not want to keep wondering if Dick was alive. Or if he died while they were searching for him.

Softly he ordered, "Richard look at me," it took a long moment but finally his son looked up. Blue eyes held untold pain that tore at him, "We just want you to be safe and happy. To be able to talk to you like a family is supposed to."

"Bruce this family hasn't been able to communicate properly ever," shot back Dick without any heat.

Good Dick was at least listening to him if only subconsciously. He could work with this even if it only lasted a few moments. It would give him time to work his way back into his son's life.

Bruce continued on trying to get the other to see sense, "I know we aren't great at communicating but since your disappearance, it has gotten better. The current situation is the exception. I can honestly say no one expected to find you in New York of all places. Right under the Titans East nose. Like I said we want you safe and happy. Right now you might be happy but you're far from safe."

When Dick's blue eyes became almost like steel he knew that he made a mistake. Mentioning that he wasn't safe had been a bad idea. That should have waited for another conversation.

"And you think being a vigilante is safe?!" Snarled Dick like a rabid wolf, "You know better than anyone that there is nothing perfectly safe in this world."

Dick took a moment to take a deep breath to calm himself. Before Bruce could retort the younger man pressed on, "I'm not afraid of dying. I can die in any way that the Fates choose. That's not up to me. But what is within my power is to decide how I live. Courageously or timidly."