Jason wasn't completely sure when he returned to the manor. The cave was empty. His shower in the changing rooms scorching hot. A set of clothes were waiting for him, a pair of lounge pants and an old shirt. He had just enough energy to make it up to the ground floor, and crash on one of the couches in the living room before passing out. He woke sometimes later with Tim flicking him in the foot. Jason hissed, pulling his leg closer to his chest and out of the other's range.

"Get up," Tim advised, "Unless you want Alfred to find out you slept on the couch."

Jason grumbled, peeking out from under his arm tossed over his face. Tim was at the end of the couch, coffee cup in hand, looking as if he got no sleep. "Alfred probably already knows." Jason mumbled.

Tim conceded with a nod, "Fair, but if Damian catches you, he'll give you a lecture about being a disgrace to the Robin name or something like that." He watched as Jason sighed, hiding his smile with a sip of coffee.

Jason rolled into a sitting position and stretched his arms above his head. His joins let out a loud pop that made Tim cringe. He stood, leading the duo out of the room towards the kitchen, the older man hoping there was some coffee left. "Kid's going to be an extra big pain in the ass with Goldie shrunk down," he mused.

"Fuck," Tim muttered.

"Did Timmy just swear?" Jason teased, going for a cup of coffee, pouring it black.

"Screw you," Tim snorted, topping off his own mug. "The demon brat doesn't hate you as much." Jason shrugged, sliding into one of the barstools at the counter, Tim across from him, leaning against the counter. The lightness of the room melted as their eyes met.

"Find anything new?" Jason asked.

"No," Tim wished he didn't sound as disappointed as he did. "Bruce sent us up shortly after you left."

The older man let his head fall into the crock of his elbow, pillowing his forehead. Coffee cup still in his hand. "It's going to be complicated isn't it?" He muttered; voice muffled.

"Yep."

"Wake me up when Alfred gets here."

"Sure."

Jason sighed again, mind drifting back to the night before.

Tiny Dick, as Jason referred to him in his head, was interesting to watch. He still moved with the grace and fluidity expected from the last remaining Grayson. He was confident and knowledgeable and threw sass like batarangs. Jason wouldn't never admit it, but the kid was hilarious.

It wasn't Dick who was grating on his nerves, not really. Sure, the kid threw him off, it isn't everyday Goldie turns into a baby. But it was everyone else, Bruce specifically, that really started to rub him the wrong way. It was a joke from Bruce, not even a good one, that broke the camels back.

Jason was only half paying attention to the conversation, when Bruce said something to Tiny Dick. Tiny Dick stuck out his tongue rather than replying. Bruce with a twitch of a smile stated, "Use your words, chum." His voice was light.

It brought forward half constructed memories of a time before Jason's death.

The oxygen left his lungs, "I can't" Jason said, chair scraping across the floor and crashing over in his haste. The cave was getting too small, walls suddenly too close.

"Jason?" Bruce edging into his line of sight, "you okay, lad?"

He filched back, breath coming in too fast. He could feel eyes on him. Tiny Dick still watching with wide curious eyes, but there was something more. He was analyzing Jason, making his skin crawl. "I'll do patrol," he stated, already moving to grab his equipment, "need air." He swung onto his bike, shooting out with a spray of rock and roar of the engine.

He ended up on the Wayne Enterprise Building, legs hanging off the ledge. The city was a dark void below his feet, the occasional light glowing like a star through the smog. With bloody hands – not his blood of course - Jason pulled out his phone. He placed his helmet to the side and hit speed dial number two.

"Wha?" Roy answered.

A little more of the pressure in Jason's chest lessened, "Wake up asshole."

The line disconnected. Jason pulled the phone from his ear to look at the end of call notice on his screen. Before he could reconnect, Roy's name came up as an incoming call.

"You done bein' rude?" Roy asked when the call connected.

Jason snorted, "Probably not," he admitted.

"At least you're honest." Roy mused. Jason could hear rustling in the background, the older man probably shifting in bed. It was quite on Roy's end, not like the loud ambiance of Gotham. There was a small click, a light Jason assumes. "What do you want?" Roy asked.

"There was an accident – no one hurt," he added before the other could ask, "But something happened with Dick."

There was a pause, Jason could hear more rustling, "okay," Roy said, voice cautious, indicating for Jason to elaborate. Soft foot steps were heard, then the noticeable hum of Roy's coffee maker.

"Joker de-aged him."

"No shit? How old?"

"Thirteen or fourteen, I don't think anyone actually asked. At least not before I left."

"You bailed on Tiny Dick?" Roy asked, there was the sound of a chair dragging along cheap linoleum flooring.

"That's what I've been calling him too." Jason laughed, he was aware the edges sounded a little historical. "But no, I just needed some air. Bruce was…" He trailed off trying to find the words. Roy didn't press. It was one of the things Jason appreciated about him. "Bruce was acting weird. Thirty minutes in and Baby Golden-boy had him making jokes." Jason tugged at his hair. "It became too much."

"Yeah," Roy started when Jason didn't elaborate, "Dick always had a way with people. Bruce was wrapped around his finger as a kid. Practically the whole Justice League was, if I remember correct."

"Golden Child," Jason muttered.

Roy snorted, "He take meeting you all okay?"

"Surprisingly, yeah." Jason shrugged grasping the change of topic willingly, "Told'em we were his replacements and he didn't seem to care."

"What exactly did you say?" Roy pressed, suppressing Jason at the sudden intensity.

"I don't know, man. B introduced us, I said we were his successors. And then he moved the conversation along."

"That's it? Just successor, nothing about being Robin specifically? Or how any of you came into the bat-family."

"No Roy, sorry to disappoint but we didn't get all deep and personal." Jason ground out. "Sharing stick stayed in the closet."

Roy made an Ah-ha noise, like something for him clicked. But Jason ignored it, powering on, "Bruce wants to keep it vague, won't let'em near the computer. Tiny Dick threatened to hack our systems, which Bruce took way too seriously. Replacement set up our security, no way kid's getting in."

Roy hummed non-committal. "Do you want to come over? Or me to come out?" he offered.

"Na, but thanks. I just needed to vent. I can't believe I'm saying this but it's not even Dick whose the problem. Everyone else is putting me on edge. Demon Brat keeps fluctuating between look'en like he wants to fight'em and just creepily staring. I don't know what's going on with replacement, but he went straight to being awkward. And B is acting like a pod person." Jason sighed, "At least Alfred is acting normal."

"Alfred is king.' Roy agreed.

"You bet your ass."

"Yeah, well keep me up to date and let me know if you want me to swing by. I'm not doing anything."

Jason swallowed the lump in his throat, a thank you on his lips. "Night, asshole." He said instead.

"Morning, Jerk." Roy disconnected; and this time Jason put the phone away. With a long breath, Jason slipped his helmet back on and took a running leap. He had a patrol to finish and a bed to get too.

Tim shook Jason awake just in time for Alfred's entry. The man eyed them knowingly and shooed them out of the kitchen with the promise of food and more coffee. They sat next to one another, Jason pulling out his phone and occasionally making a face as he drank his room temperature coffee.

Tim had a tablet out, but the screen stays black, the teen lost in thought. His mind drifted back to the night before.

The cave was tense, Dick's pun about air being in the cave was lost to the sound of Jason's squealing tires.

"I believe on that note," Alfred stepped in, "it is time for bed."

Tim and Damian started to protest; Dick turned his attention to Bruce. "You aren't going to finish patrol too?" he asked.

"No," Bruce made a show of heading back to the computer, "I'll run through the blood test then go up myself. Hood knows to call if he needs back-up." He took a seat at the computer, swiveling to face the room. Dick watched his mentor, looking for something the other's couldn't see. Bruce kept his face blank, letting Dick come to some kind of conclusion.

"Okay," Dick chirped, he spun on his heels and took for the stairs. "Have fun with your files, B. I want a shower."

Bruce was immediately suspicious, squinting at Dick's retreating back. "Richard," he called, freezing the younger in place. He stood, walking to stand at the younger boy's side and held out a hand. "Give it," he said.

"Give what?" Dick parroted. He blinked, eyes wide and shining bright even in the limited light of the cave.

"That hasn't worked since you were ten." Bruce shook his head, face twitching into a smile.

Dick let out a loud laugh, "We both know that isn't true. Just last week – my last week at least – you stopped for ice-"

"No," Bruce interrupted.

The whole interaction was too strange for Tim and Damian. The younger boy had never seen his father this relaxed. For Tim, it was a distant memory when he was still living with his birth parents. He would watch Bruce and Dick interact, played up for gala's and poporatizy. He used to assume it was exaggerated for publicity. But watching them now, he wondered if to some extent, it was all real.

"Bed," Bruce instructed, "all of you." He turned a sharp eye to Tim and Damian.

"Sir, yes sir." Dick nodded, getting ready to bound up the stairs once more.

Alfred cleared his throat, forcing Dick to once again freeze. The elderly man held out his hand expectantly. Dick sighed, pulling out the holo-glove to Tim's suit and handing it over.

Tim frowned, he clearly remembered locking that away. Dick shot him an apologetic smile. Damian snickered.

Alfred tucked the glove under his arm and held his hand out again. Dick handed over three bat-a-rangs, a small set of tools from the equipment area, and a flashlight.

"The belt Master Richard," Alfred stated.

Dick glanced around the room, body tense.

"Let him keep it," Tim found himself saying. Everyone turned to look at him, but Tim just watched Dick, "It's just the belt, right?" he asked.

Dick nodded, cautious but hopeful.

"It's like Dick said before, he still doesn't know if this is his world. If it makes him feel safe, let him keep the belt." Tim continued. Dick made a face at 'feel safe' but didn't comment. "A sign of good faith." He added.

Alfred and Bruce exchanged a look, and the butler dropped his hand. "You make an excellent point, Master Tim. Richard may keep the utility belt." Dick's face lit up, body sagging for just a moment in relief. "But," Alfred continued, causing Dick to snap back to attention. "I don't want any funny business."

"Of course, Alfy." Dick promised, smile bright and grateful. "Best behavior."

"Off to bed," the man shooed, pointing the three young charges up the stairs.

They went quietly, stopping at Dick's bedroom. Damian sniffed indifferently and disappeared behind the door across the hall. Dick blocked Tim's way with an arm, "Good faith and all that," he said, holding something out in his other hand. It took Tim a moment to realize Dick was handing him back his phone. "It's a two-way street."

Tim gapped at him for a second before snatching his phone back, "How did you?" he asked, turning the device on and checking to see if it was tampered.

Dick shrugged, studying Tim closely. "You're the Drake kid, right?"

Tim nodded, suddenly feeling five years old again. Dick cocked a simple smile, "Cool! Night, Timbo." He turned to enter his room, "Night Damian!" he called over his shoulder.

A muffled, "Good night, Grayson." Drifted from the room across the hall.

Bruce, Damian, and Dick entered together, pulling the two from their thoughts. Dick clung to Bruce's back like a koala bear as Damian trailed behind them looking like a lost puppy.

Dick was deposited easily into his normal chair, Bruce swinging him off his back with what looked to be a rusty but practiced ease. Damian took his normal seat to Dick's left, while Bruce sat at the head of the table to Dick's right.

Jason and Tim shared a look, turning to Damian to ask. The kid only shrugged a shoulder, thanking Alfred quietly when he placed a stack of pancakes In front of him.

Dick's eyes trailed Alfred as he dropped off the food and disappeared into the kitchen. He waited for the door to stop swinging. "So, what-"

The galley door swung open again, "No case talk at the table." Alfred stated.

"I was just going to ask about the Knights Seasons I've missed." Dick said, eyes a little too bright to be trustworthy.

"No case talk at the table." Alfred said again, the door fell closed with a finality.

Dick sighed looking a little deflated.

"Uh, do you actually want to talk Knights?" Asked Tim. "I don't think talking baseball seasons would cause any harm." He glanced at Bruce, who nodded in approval.

"Of course not-" Jason started, only to be interrupted.

"Yes! I am dying to know what happened to Bradly Vaunts. He recently returned from an injury, but they predicted it was going to be his last season."

There was a long pause, then Jason spoke up. "Good news and bad news. Good news, not his past season. Bad news they traded him to Metropolis."

"Trator," Dick hissed under his breath.

Jason nodded in agreement, "But he re-tore the ligament second game into the season and retired."

And they were off, Jason catching Dick up on the last decade of the home team. Tim throwing out random facts and searching for a way to stream the old games. Damian surprised everyone getting into a heated debate with Bruce about a trade from three years ago. (Damian would never admit it, but he was paraphrasing a rant from Dick he heard way too many times in his opinion.)

Alfred watched from the doorway, momentarily content.