The graveyard was a decent size, small enough as to feel intimate, yet large enough that no one was likely to be nearby or over hear you talking. Grass covered the graves. Some of the gravestones were weathered to the point of illegible or near so. Flowers popped up in random places between and over the graves, next to store bought flowers placed lovingly in front of grave stones.

Bruce followed the well-worn path through the graveyard. He passed his parents, and came to a plot of seven gravestones. The Flying Graysons were all clustered near each other, new compared to other stones in the area, but old enough to make Bruce feel weary. He slowed to stop at the end of the line, where two new graves were laid, the beds too small for Richard and Damian had died too young.

No bodies had ever been found, but with so many missing and no more signs of life coming from within the building, the league had been forced to halt their search. It didn't make sense for there to be no bodies, and the doubt plagued. Yet, Bruce had to accept his son, his sons, were dead. He had to in order to help Jason heal. To hold onto his last boy, and to not slip away into madness on the possibility as he so badly wanted to. Jason needed him. Bruce couldn't leave because Jason needed him. And no soul-searching journey where he questioned everyone from Ra's al Ghul to Frankenstein was going to change that. Especially not with no bodies.

He knelt by the graves and placed down the flowers he had brought. Purple asters for Dick and white roses for Damian, the son he never knew. He faced Richard's grave and imagined he was talking to his son, the one he had known.

"Hey chum. Long time no speak. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I wasn't strong enough to protect you, or fast enough, smart enough, to find you and save you." He cleared his throat. "Your friend, Alex. He's been a boon. He told me about how brave you were. And I do mean brave. Everyone needs to break at some point to pick themselves up again and pull themselves together. I'm so proud of you. I don't know that you ever knew how proud, and I should have been better at expressing myself. You know it's hard for me, feelings, but that's no excuse.

"Alex said you called me, that you took to calling me 'Tati' and took Damian under your wing even before you knew he was mine. All I could say to that was 'That's my boy. That's Dickie.' That's you. You always cared more about people than anything else. It's part of what made you such a great hero.

"And you were a hero, one of the best. I know I've said this other times I've visited, but I should have said it more when you were alive and home. You were a hero, and I'm so proud of you. You saved so many, when you could have saved yourself. I would have been happy if you'd just gotten yourself out, but that's not you. You would not have failed me if you'd left everyone behind to get away and come find us, but I think you would have felt you betrayed yourself. I think not addressing that, that was my fault." He sighed.

"Anyhow, you probably want to know how things are going here." A happier note, Dick was always an optimist. "Well, I found out Damian's mother was Talia al Ghul. You probably knew that already, but I wasn't sure. I think I've found Alex's older sister. I found three possibilities and am going through their background to try to find if they lost a brother. If I find her, I plan to see if she can take Alex in. Right now, we have about twenty children left. Eight of them are still in Belgium. Two went to France and the government is trying to find relatives of theirs. Another two in England then a few to Russia." He wouldn't mention the children who had died from the experiments. The ones who went through massive withdrawal, the ones the doctors had been unable to save. He definitely wouldn't mention that most, most but not all, of those children had white hair like Dick did in the video. He didn't want to think about the alternative, the thought that he could have found Dick, truly found him, just to lose him again.

"We managed to bring the rest to the United States. It was much harder than we expected, especially Alex. He's here on a student visa, actually. It took us almost two months to get him it, and I sponsored him to go to Gotham Academy. We had to pretend he hadn't snuck here on the bioship and bring him back into the country in legitimate ways. We have two others on student visas and the rest are US citizens, but are either runaways or orphans. We're having trouble finding them homes. Almost all the other kids are in homes, but we believe we've located two or three more places like Andoxly that need to be taken out, so we might have another influx soon. The UN is considering filing the children under refugee status, which will most likely mean they'll be stuck in camps for the next few years until they can get refugee visas or get adopted. It's not ideal by any means, but at least they'll have somewhere to live."

Bruce paused, thoughts circling through his head. "Wally is finally adjusting. I think forcing him into summer school to make up for his missed classes helped. It's given him something to focus on, at least. He and Artemis aren't getting along as well, unfortunately. They had a shouting match in the mountain the other day and I don't believe they're currently talking to each other outside of team missions. Don't worry though. They'll come around. They still work with each other after all. They, both of them and the team, are grieving for you, but life goes on. People still need saving, after all."

"I want to talk with Damian now. If you're listening and he's not, can you pass it along for me? Damian, I know I never met you, but I've heard things about you from Alex and Charlie. Your mother said a few things too, but I think she's a little too… biased, distant. Alex and Charlie seem to have known you better. I've mentioned before when visiting, but I'm proud of you too. You were put in a situation where you were helpless and out of your league and you found your way to Dick and told them who was boss. I've heard about how stubborn you were, but how you still were able to be sweet. I would have loved to get to know you, and it devastates me to lose that chance. I hope wherever you are that your big brother is taking good care of you and you're being the same sweet kid I've heard about."

Bruce sighed and stood up, frowning down at the graves. He closed his eyes feeling the wind whistling through the graveyard, a warm, summer breeze. He wondered how Dick would have felt to feel it, after so many months of cold and isolation. The only fresh air the young teen would have gotten in the past five months since he would have arrived at Andoxly would have been when he was transferred to the shack that the cursed video had been filmed in. It was wrong to think of his little bird trapped like that. Robin loved to fly. He needed fresh air and human interaction to survive and to know that he'd been cut off from both of those things repeatedly…

A flower, one of the bright purple asters, was floating in the air. Bruce narrowed his eyes on it in confusion and looked around to see what was holding it there. He reached out and the flower ducked back like someone stepping out of the way of his hand. It seemed to slip and start to drift down to the ground, but it was stopped and lifted back up. Bruce inhaled.

"Who's there?" He demanded.

The flower holder didn't answer, and before Bruce's eyes, the flower started to fade around the edges. It took a minute, but soon enough, the flower had faded completely. Bruce reached forward and moved his hand around where the flower had been, but there was nothing there. He furrowed his brow. "I know you're there. Show yourself." He sensed a brush of wind in front of his hand, as if someone was shaking their head. The person took another step back. "Dick?" He asked softly, daring himself to hope. He couldn't tell if the person responded. A second later, he could tell the person wasn't there anymore, but they didn't feel gone completely. Unnerved, Bruce dropped his shaking hand.

Something was going on here. And he would find out what.

Dick opened his eyes, breathing heavily. What was that? Bruce visited his grave, obviously, but why did he see it? He took several deep breaths, using the calming exercises taught to himself by both Bruce and his therapist. He twitched his fingers and felt something odd. A stem? He looked down. Resting between his two hands, exactly where it had been in his dream, was a bright purple flower, slightly singed around the edges. He dropped it and screamed.