AN: I swear I was a reliable author once. Thank you for bearing with me. To make up for being late, I have a long chapter this time. And it's not completely the end. There is one left. I love writing Nightwing and Dick interacting. It's a lot of fun.

Summer314: I love Cass. Glad you liked her perspective as well. Give that girl all the sweets. She deserves it.

I'm sure the boys will love Blüdhaven eventually. It grows on you. And indeed: Nightwing will give Jason more than a few heart attacks with his acrobatics. And Dick, too, because the poor guy is stuck in a body with him. He can't even opt out of these crazy manoeuvres.

Guest: Thank you! That's a huge compliment. Also, that it makes you want to write some fanfiction. I can only recommend it. It's a lot of fun and the community in fanfiction is lovely. Best of luck to your creative efforts!

18. The Box

Bruce had spent the last hour deliberating over what to put in the box. Said box was standing on Bruce's bed waiting to be filled with the items Bruce was picking. Bruce laid the items out on his bed, checking for a last time if all of them were in order. Then, he put them into a cardboard box.

The photo was last. Bruce took the photo out of his pocket, taking one last look. It was the last piece he had of his original family – the family he had erased. Bruce wanted to hold it forever. But there was someone who deserved to have it more than him. So, Bruce carefully put the photo into the box. There was a feeling of finality when he taped it shut and jotted down the address on top of it.

Bruce took the box and left his room. On his way down the stairs, he encountered Alfred. The butler was holding a duster.

"Master Wayne", Alfred said, "I assume your room is free to clean now?"

"You don't need to dust my room."

"I would be a bad butler if I accepted your offer", Alfred nodded at the package, "Shall I bring this to the post office?"

"No. I need to do this myself."

Alfred didn't object this time. Apparently, he understood the gravity of this situation.

"Very well", Alfred nodded, "The Master and Mistress Wayne are currently eating breakfast in the dining room. I shall continue my duties."

Alfred went up the stairs. Bruce sighed, disappointed by how stilted his interactions with this Alfred were. This Alfred barely knew him. He hadn't seen Bruce grow up. He had seen Brucie grow up. And Brucie hadn't needed Alfred like Bruce had needed him.

Brucie. Another person that Bruce had wiped from existence with his actions. He wondered how his parents felt about Bruce essentially killing their son. Or did they not make a difference between both versions of them. It was confusing and thinking about it was giving Bruce a headache.

Bruce entered the dining room. His parents were talking quietly. They stopped talking when they saw Bruce.

Bruce put the package down on the table. He sat down waiting for them to say anything. They didn't and Bruce didn't know what to say to them. So, he shovelled sausages and scrambled eggs onto his plate.

"I assume this goes to Blüdhaven?", Martha looked at the package.

Bruce nodded in affirmation.

"And what is in it?"

Bruce shrugged: "Mostly stuff I commissioned from Lucius. It's nothing that can make up what I've done to them."

Martha nodded. She looked down at her plate, unsure of how to continue this conversation.

Thomas cleared his throat: "Your mother and I talked about this… situation. We are sorry for our actions. They were shameful. I shouldn't have tried to blackmail Mr. Grayson."

Martha nodded: "And I shouldn't have made that deal with Talia. I guess Mr. Grayson's death was a wake-up call."

Bruce sighed: "I was angry with you but I- I can't anymore. I turned time back for you. If I don't forgive you, it was all for nothing."

Silence again. Thomas and Martha lowered their heads.

Bruce balled his fists: "And I'm the last person who can blame anyone for anything. Not when I created this disaster."

"We made countless mistakes in the last months", Thomas said, "But we need to move forward now and do better in the future."

"And we need to remember what the Wayne-name is supposed to mean to Gotham", Martha said, "We became complacent in the last few years, thinking that throwing money at things would fix them."

"What do you mean, Mom?"

"I held charity gala after charity gala and knowing how corrupted that foster care system is, I wonder if any of the money actually reached its goal", Martha sounded frustrated.

She ran her hand through her usually immaculate hair.

"I want to do it properly this time", Martha said, "Check if the money actually reaches its goal. Work with people I can trust who are close to the ground."

Bruce frowned. Martha's proposition was surprising.

"People who would resist my bribe", Thomas smiled.

Martha nodded.

"Grayson was the first one who did", Thomas shook his head in disbelief, "I couldn't fathom before that people with this kind of integrity existed. Grayson proved me wrong."

Thomas smiled. Always one to admire those who challenged him.

"You have great children, Bruce", Martha said.

"I do", Bruce said, "Or rather - I did. I'm proud of them even if most of them don't want my affirmation anymore."

Martha reached out and touched Bruce's hand: "You need to work with what you have, Bruce."

Bruce nodded, his mouth dry. He thought of the note he had put into the package. A final desperate offer. He doubted that his sons would take him up on it. And they had every right to reject Bruce. Still, he had a tiny sliver of hope.

Alfred entered the room, apparently finished with dusting. He took away their plates.

Bruce addressed the butler: "Can I talk to you later? I need someone who is good at organizing."

Alfred's face stayed blank: "Very well, Master Wayne. What is the occasion?"

"It's for my daughter", Bruce said.

Alfred's face lightened up at the mention of Cassandra. He had a soft spot for her, always giving her a sweet threat when she came over.

"If it is for Ms. Cassandra, I'll help gladly", Alfred smiled.

Bruce smiled back. Maybe not everything was bad. He just had to work with the things he had at his disposal.

Dick felt like dozens of eyes were watching him. It was distracting him from the terribly boring form he had to fill out. Dick looked up from his desk, chewing on the end of his pencil.

His new office looked almost exactly like his old one – only more run-down.

Also, the co-workers were just as hostile, though they were more open about their vitriol.

Some of his new co-workers were openly glaring at him whenever they got the chance.

Dick had started this job a week ago and apparently social workers in Gotham and Blüdhaven talked - which was not good for Dick. If Gotham was a shark tank, Blüdhaven was an ocean full of creatures out to kill him.

'The guy two desks from you has a gun', Nightwing said matter-of-factly.

Dick looked over at the burly guy two desks from him. His was name was Bates and he seemed to be the big, tough guy here. He was also corrupt to the last bone of his body. Bates had a direct line to Blockbuster, the kingpin of this city. Nightwing was already collecting evidence on him.

"Great", Dick muttered, "How reassuring."

'And he's getting awfully twitchy', Nightwing said, 'He keeps looking over to us and his hand is moving towards the gun. He's having some homicidal thoughts about us.'

Dick tensed. He forced himself to look away from Bates.

"You sound very relaxed about this."

'I already have a plan of how we get him off our back for a while.'

"Will I like it?"

'You'll hate it.'

OK. Now, Dick was very worried.

'You need to start something with him', Nightwing said, 'Wind him up a bit. We need to control when he cracks so he doesn't catch us off-guard. We'll have the advantage of preparation.'

That sounded logical – even if Dick wasn't keen on pissing off the corrupt guy with the gun.

'You think you can do that?'

Dick scoffed: "Are you seriously questioning my ability of making people pissed at me? That was my survival tactic in Juvie."

'Sounds like a terrible survival tactic.'

"I'm still alive. So, that's a win in my book."

'Need I remind you that you are only alive because of a magic pit?'

Dick gritted his teeth at the memory: "But I didn't die in Juvie so your argument is void."

Nightwing laughed: 'Touché. So, do your thing and piss him off. I'll take care of the rest.'

Dick went to the coffee machine, filling a cup. He put three sugar cubes in. Dick hesitated before taking another one. He shrugged and dropped it in. It couldn't harm.

'Use his divorce against him', Nightwing said.

"Divorce?"

'Yep', Nightwing said, 'He rubs his ring finger as if he is used to wearing a ring. And he keeps getting private calls and leaving the office to take them. Definitely dirty laundry he doesn't want anyone to know about.'

"It could be his corrupt business calling?"

'You think anyone in this office cares if a co-worker makes a call to some criminals?'

"Touché", Dick muttered.

Dick took the coffee and went to Bates' desk. He put on his most charming smile.

'Smile any wider and he thinks you are coming on to him.'

"It would wind him up."

'Or we have bad luck and he is into that.'

Dick shuddered at the thought. He opted to stop at Bates' desk putting down the coffee in front of him.

Bates looked up, immediately glaring when he saw Dick: "What do you want, Grayson?"

Dick's name sounded like an insult coming from him – and Bates wasn't even using Dick's first name.

'A classic', Nightwing added.

Dick smiled wider: "I thought I'd bring you a coffee. We didn't talk that much yet, Bates."

Bates frowned. Suspicious. But apparently, he couldn't resist coffee that was brought to him – even if it was watery office coffee.

Bates took a sip and scrunched up his face in disgust: "What the fuck is this, Grayson?"

"Don't you like it?", Dick frowned in confusion, "I thought you could use some sugar."

Bates balled his fists. He looked like he was holding himself back.

Dick continued, ready to deal the killing blow: "Especially because you are dealing with that rough divorce."

This was it. Bates jumped up, pushing his meaty fists onto the table and glaring at Dick. The man was taller than him even bent down like this. Dick would usually never provoke him. Even he had some self-preservation.

"What was that?"

"Your divorce", Dick said, "Must be rough."

Bates' face redded and he gripped Dick by the collar: "You little piece of shit."

Dick hoped Nightwing had a good plan.

Dick acted dumb: "What? Did I upset you? I'm very sorry if-"

Bates shoved Dick against the wall by his collar. He took out his gun and pushed it against Dick's head. Dick froze, feeling the cold metal against his skull.

"I know what you are doing, Grayson. Everyone does. We all know that you are a dirty, little rat. You took Gotham down and now you think you are a big guy who can do it again. But let me tell you: In Blüdhaven, only the big fish survive. And you aren't one."

Dick really hoped Nightwing had a good plan.

He smiled: "I always saw myself more as a bird."

Bates grunted, even more wound up than before. He turned to their co-workers.

"Does anyone mind if I shoot Grayson right here?"

Dick's coworkers were watching like sharks. The bloodlust shone in their eyes.

"It has to be done anyway", one guy shrugged, "Before he can snoop."

"I know someone who can get everything cleaned up until tonight", one woman said, "I can call him as soon as it's done."

Wow. Blüdhaven really was something else. Worst workplace environment ever.

Bates smiled in glee: "I've been waiting for this for a week."

Within one moment, Dick felt himself pushed into the back of their shared head. Nightwing was taking over. Dick was used to the feeling now.

Nightwing's hand shot out as he hit a spot on Bates' wriest with his fingertips. Bates yelped in pain and dropped the gun. He stared at Nightwing dumbfounded. Nightwing didn't leave him any room to breathe. He gripped Bates' wriest and twisted it behind his back, pushing him against the wall.

"What the fuck?", Bates struggled but Nightwing put pressure on his arm.

"Struggle and the force will break your arm in three places. It's not fun. I wouldn't recommend it."

Nightwing gripped Bates' chin pulling slightly. Bates gritted his teeth as he felt the strain.

"One little pull and your neck is broken."

It was unnerving how matter of fact Nightwing sounded.

Bates' eyes widened in fear: "What the hell do you want?"

"Just to work in peace, you know? Without the possibility of being shot in the head every second", Nightwing smiled, "I'm sure we can arrange that."

Their co-workers stared at Nightwing. They had gathered around the commotion in a half-circle. The woman who had offered to call the gangster seemed to make a decision. She pulled something out of her jacket. A knife glinted.

Nightwing kicked it out of her hand. There was a crack and the woman screamed in pain, holding her hand.

"You are fucking crazy, man", Bates said.

Nightwing's smile vanished, and he leaned forward: "You can try to kill me all you want. You won't succeed."

"Why so cocky, Grayson?", Bates mustered up some bravado.

"I survived Juvie for over five years. Gotham Juvie", Nightwing said, "You want to know what they put me in for?"

"Stealing some candy?", Bates

Nightwing leaned forward: "Attempted murder. I tried to smash a mob boss' face in with a tire iron. Apparently, I didn't hit hard enough. I won't make that mistake a second time."

Bates paled.

"So, do we have a problem?"

"N- No", Bates stuttered, "We're a- all good, man."

"Great", Nightwing smiled at Bates, "Get back to your desk. Your coffee is getting cold."

Bates stumbled towards his desk.

"Anyone else have a problem?", Nightwing turned to the ring of Dick's co-workers.

They scattered without another word. The woman nursed her hand. Nightwing went back to his desk. He put his feet onto the desk and leaned back. Bates threw a side glance at Nightwing and gulped down his coffee. His face twisted in disgust, but he was too intimidated to reject their gift.

Nightwing opened Dick's drawers, pulling out an old piece of caramel candy. Dick didn't want to know how old it was. Nightwing threw it into their mouth, savouring it as if it was something precious. He retreated once he had finished the candy, allowing Dick to take the reins over their body again.

Dick took his feet down and pretended to fill out the form.

"Did you need to tell the whole office that I tried to kill someone in my angsty teenage phase?", Dick said, "I was glad to leave that part of my life behind me."

'Are you crazy?', Nightwing said, 'Think about what a gift this is. When I was Bruce Wayne's heir, I always needed to act all helpless when anyone threatened me. I hated that rich kid-cover. Now, I can pull out the 'I was in Juvie for attempted murder'-card and no one questions anything. It's great."

"Wonderful", Dick muttered.

'You are a tough guy, Dick. You should be proud of yourself.'

"I don't feel particularly tough."

'You survived in Gotham on your own. That's no small feat', Nightwing said, 'At least, they won't bother you for a while.'

"Thanks", Dick said, "I mean it. It's nice to not be shoved around anymore."

'We did it together. We make a great team. Bringing up his divorce like this? Brutal.'

Dick chuckled. His co-workers were already thinking he was deranged. So, it didn't make a difference. It could only add to their cover.

"We do make a great team", Dick agreed.

'Ready to take these assholes down?'

Dick thought of the social worker who had shoved him into Juvie after his parents' death. The guards who took pleasure in humiliating teenagers under their watch. The social worker who had annulled Dick's adoption papers for a bribe.

"Hell, yes", Dick said.

He was ready for this. Both of them were.

When Dick entered their shared Blüdhaven flat, he was in a good mood. He hung up his coat, taking in the smell. Something with curry? Dick kicked off his shoes and went to the kitchen.

There were voices as Damian and Jason both stood in front of the stove. Jason stirred an orange sauce in a pot while Damian watched his every move. It was adorable to see his brothers bonding.

He went on his tiptoes to look into the pot: "-You have to put more chilli in, Todd. This isn't spicy enough."

Jason didn't object and sprinkled a bit of chili in.

"More, Todd", Damian sounded more eager than annoyed.

He seemed to be getting into this.

Jason laughed: "Dick and I still need to eat this, Dames. You can put more in for yourself if you want to."

Damian scrunched up his face. Then, he nodded: "This shall be acceptable."

They stood there in silence for a bit until Damian cleared his throat: "Thank you for making this, Todd."

Jason's voice was uncharacteristically soft: "You're welcome, Demon. I thought you might feel homesick."

"I miss Mother but I am happy here and I shall see her again."

"I'm sure you will", Jason said, "You wanna set the table?"

Damian went to the cabinets.

"I can do it", Dick said.

Both Jason and Damian flinched even if Damian hid it better.

"Holy shit, Dickhead", Jason said, "Give a guy a warning."

"I have vigilante powers now", Dick grinned and took out three plates, "I shall use them for evil."

"Nightwing has vigilante powers – not you", Jason corrected.

"Well, I am in his head while he does all this crazy stuff so I feel how he moves. It's muscle memory somehow. I can't do everything, but I learn something. It's basically like a vigilante internship."

Jason shook his head: "This is insane."

"It is", Dick set the rest of the table, "But we're learning how to deal with it."

They sat down, eating in peace. Damian added a generous amount of chili to his own plate. He was eating slowly, savouring the dish.

"You are a good cook, Jason", Damian looked at his plate while he said it.

Jason smiled and exchanged a glance with Dick. They both knew how hard it was for Damian to be so open. And Jason could act as tough as he wanted to, Dick knew that he loved Damian.

'He's a softie underneath', Nightwing agreed, 'Big, bad Red Hood my ass.'

Dick wondered if Nightwing was even talking about this Jason anymore.

After they finished their dinner, Jason pulled a package out from under the table.

"We got something", Jason said, "Promise me not to completely lose it."

"Why would I lose it?", Dick asked.

"I'm not asking you. I'm asking the other guy that is stuck in your pretty head."

'I can't promise anything if that is from who I think it is', Nightwing said.

"He promises", Dick said.

'Traitor.'

"Let's open it", Dick used his knife to cut the package open.

He reached inside the box pulling out a slew of equipment. Grappling guns, Batarangs, armor. Dick laid it out on the table. Jason looked at the equipment like it was a christmas present. Meanwhile, Damian gripped a Batarang and threw it at the wall. It embedded itself solidly. Damian nodded in satisfaction.

"I think we have our grapple guns now", Dick said.

'No way', Nightwing protested in his head, 'We won't be using this.'

"Why shouldn't we use this? It's better than anything Kevin could get us."

'I'm not using this. It's from him. I'm not taking his damn scraps.'

Dick sighed looking at the perfectly usable equipment in front of them. He had to put his foot down.

"Let me make one thing clear: You are using this. For two reasons: One, we are fucking broke. My salary is a joke and I'm not making Jason do some illegal shit, so we get the money. Secondly, you promised to keep Damian safe. I won't let him get hurt because you insist on using a faulty line."

Nightwing stayed quiet. Dick could hear him moping.

"I get that you are pissed, Nightwing. And you have every right to be. But think of Damian and Jason. You want them to be safe, don't you?"

Dick knew that this would be the card that worked. It would have worked on himself.

'Fine', Nightwing sounded like he needed to force himself to get the word out, 'You are fighting dirty.'

Dick ignored Nightwing's reluctance: "Great. I'm proud of you."

"Did you just parent your alternate self, Dickhead?", Jason seemed amused.

Dick rolled his eyes: "You are in a glasshouse, Jason. I saw you parent Damian earlier."

Damian scrunched up his face at the idea: "I refuse to be parented by an imbecile like Todd."

Jason crossed his arms: "Seconded – not the imbecile part. Taming the demon is your job. I'm not touching that."

Dick dug through the rest of the box. His hands brushed a piece of paper. Dick frowned and pulled out an envelope. Written in cursive, there were two words: 'My son'

"I think this is for you, Nightwing."

'Well, screw him I'm not reading that.'

Dick sighed: "Aren't you curious?"

Nightwing hesitated: 'No.'

Dick wondered if breaking postal secret was a thing with the guy you were mindmelted with. If Dick could just open the letter himself-

'You aren't doing that.'

"You can't ignore him. Just read it. I know it is gnawing on you", Dick tried to convince Nightwing because he knew that the guy would just brood about the possible contents of Bruce's letter if they didn't read it.

'NO'

Dick felt a tension in their shared head as Nightwing was pushing against him. Dick tried to hold his own, but the vigilante's mind was like an unstoppable force. Dick tried to open the letter, but Nightwing pulled their hand back. Dick gritted his teeth and reached for the letter again, but Nightwing threw it into a corner.

'Ha', Nightwing sounded triumphant, 'I won't let you get over there.'

"Watch me", Dick tried to stand up, but Nightwing had an iron grip on their legs.

Jason and Damian were watching their struggle with confusion. Jason shrugged and walked towards the letter.

"You are being very immature", Dick said.

'My whole universe is gone. I have a right to be immature', Nightwing's mind slammed against Dick's.

Dick couldn't hold on anymore. He let go off the reigns. How could Nightwing do this? The vigilante always managed to overwhelm Dick when he wanted to.

"Mind-protection lessons with Martian Manhunter, Lilith and Raven", Nightwing grinned, "After that, your mind is like a bank vault."

So unfair.

"We aren't reading that letter", Nightwing crossed his arms.

Well, Dick couldn't make him. But someone else could. Jason had stood up during their struggle.

"My son", Jason held the letter unfolded in his hand.

Dick expected Nightwing to lunge at Jason. But the vigilante was just frozen.

Jason read: "Any apology I make is void. I can't change what I did to you and the rest of our family - as it is unforgiveable. Still, I am wholeheartedly sincere when I say: I am sorry.

I wish I could undo it but I can't. The Dick, Jason, Damian, Stephanie, Cassandra of this timeline – all of them – don't deserve to be erased. Just as our family didn't deserve to be erased. They have a right to live just as our family did-"

"Fuck", Nightwing deflated, and his mind lost all of its determined energy, "Why do you have to make sense after all this time, Old Man?"

Jason continued: "-I'm sorry that this means keeping you in this situation. A situation you should never have been put in. If I could take it off your shoulders and bear it myself, I would. But I can't. There are bigger forces than me out there. I understand that now.

I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I don't deserve it.

I understand if you never want to see me again. It is tearing me apart because you are the only person in this new timeline who knows what it's like to have lost so unbearably much. Also: You are my son and I love you.

There is one last piece of our universe I haven't told you about. A gift that you made to our Damian. I didn't want to let it go and it destroys me to let it go. But you deserve it more than me. With love, Bruce."

Nightwing was still completely frozen. His mind was quiet. But Dick could feel it slowly going through all the implications.

Jason visibly swallowed: "PS: I'm extending an invitation to you and your brothers. Cassandra's birthday is this Saturday. Even if you don't want to come for me, you might want to come for her."

Jason put the letter down, having finished reading it. Nightwing shook his head as if he was struggling to understand everything this letter had unloaded on him. Nightwing hurried towards the box.

"What are you doing?", Jason asked.

"I need to find the piece. The piece he-", Nightwing broke off as he pulled the picture out of the box.

His hands trembled. Dick had never seen this picture before. It showed Nightwing's vigilante family. Dick could see the character that emitted from this picture. Nightwing's bright joy. Damian's reluctant happiness. Cassandra's quiet satisfaction. Dick could see it all and now he understood more than ever why Nightwing mourned.

Nightwing soaked in a deep breath. Dick could feel tears collect in their eyes as a deep veil of sadness laid itself over Nightwing's mind. Dick could feel it as it was strong enough to permeate through both of them.

"Nightwing?", Damian's voice was cautious.

Nightwing shook his head: "I need to be alone."

He hurried out of the room and entered their bedroom. Nightwing breathed quickly, the photo pushed against his chest.

Dick tried to get him to calm down and asked him about three things he could see.

"I can't do this now", Nightwing shook his head, running his hand through his hair.

He sat down on the floor in the corner. Knees to his chest and face hidden in them. Nightwing cried. Completely broke apart. And Dick couldn't do anything except let the sadness wash over him, too. They mourned Nightwing's family together.

"We need to do something, Todd", Damian had his ear pressed towards the door of Dick's bedroom.

Listening to the muffled sobs.

"I don't think there is anything we can do", Jason said.

"You are useless, Todd."

Damian felt irritation flare up in himself. How could Todd give up so quickly? Grayson – both Graysons – were in deep emotional distress.

"I am scared, too", Jason said.

Damian was about to argue that Todd was foolish to imply that Damian was scared. But Todd was right. Damian was scared for his mentor, older brother and the closest person to a dad he had.

"Dick – both of them – is going through some heavy shit. We can only be there for them."

Damian crossed his arms: "I don't like it."

"Me neither, brat."

Damian sighed. He picked up the letter, reading it himself.

"I need to do something. Grayson will not like this", Damian said.

"Which one?"

"Both I think."

"What do you want?"

Damian frowned. It was still confusing to have people ask for his wishes.

Still, Damian raised his voice: "I want to go for Cassandra. I owe her."

Damian expected Todd to protest. But the older man's face simply softened.

"I'll go there with you, Damian. Even if Dick and Nightwing can't."

"Just to clarify: We are going for Cassandra. Not Wayne. I shall not exchange a word with the man who harmed Grayson so devastatingly."

"Naturally", Jason said.

Damian was taken aback by Todd's support. He had judged the former criminal harshly upon their first meeting. But Todd had turned out to be a loyal friend who cared deeply for the well-being of those he loved – an older brother.

So, Damian did what he had never done to anyone else but Grayson: He hugged Todd. Todd stiffened but relaxed into the hug after a moment. None of them were used to this. Damian had to admit that Todd's tall presence was comforting. The way Todd's broad arms held Damian close. Damian knew that Todd would do his best to protect him. Damian didn't need protection. Still, the sentiment… was nice.

"Thank you for everything, Todd."

"You're welcome, Damian. We're going - for Cassandra."

"For Cassandra", Damian repeated.

AN: Poor Nightwing. But at least he isn't grieving alone. And Damian and Jason bonded which is always adorable.

Also look at Damian going for Cass. These two have a special bond.