Excuses at the end. You're all amazing.

Recap, since it's been a while: Dami just turned 5 and Dick baked him a cake. Dick is recovering steadily and has had a few weird dreams. Jason and Bruce had a very eventful July 4th. Scarecrow attacked and Jason's friend Diana kicked Logarithm. After Batman captured Scarecrow, erm, "Batman" beat up Logarithm before handing him off to Commissioner Gordon. (Jay's fine, btw. Just had to sleep off the sedative.)

Chapter 13

27 July 2013

Thomas had packed the car in secret the night before. The supplies and suitcases were hidden by a trunk cover in the back of the minivan. Gathering clothes for the boys without them noticing had been a little more difficult. He still wasn't sure that he'd grabbed their preferred outfits. In order to pack the clothes and other various objects in their room, he had to distract them.

After returning from an eventful day at work, Thomas had set the two boys up with a few writing exercises and a 24 pack of crayons. He hoped Richard would gain some confidence in his writing abilities from teaching Damian. That and stop complaining about having to use crayons. He was improving. Thomas might move him on to those thick markers soon. The teen was almost far enough along and Damian would be starting kindergarten sooner than later.

As frustrated as Richard got, the practice and the basics were doing wonders for his fine motor control. A crayon was easier to use than anything else and the errors weren't as obviously from a teenager. The teen had even managed to cook dinner several days this past week, with supervision of course. Thomas wasn't comfortable enough with letting his grandson use the stove or oven without some affirmation that he would get help quickly if he was hurt. The teen had made shish kabobs one night. While they were fairly spicy—Thomas was sure there were milder recipes—Damian had loved them, gobbling down more than was probably healthy for a kid his size with a huge smile.

While the two children were working on the writing exercises, surrounded by a wide array of snacks, Thomas went up to their room. He grabbed a few outfits for each, along with swimsuits and underclothes and packed them into one roller bag. He moved the emergency medical equipment that he would prefer to have quick access to for Richard's sake, after he had tucked the boys in for the night. It proved even more difficult than the clothes as Richard was a light sleeper and a decent detective. He managed to soothe his grandson enough that the boy went back to sleep.

At 7:30 am, he roused the youngsters and led them, bleary with sleep, to the car. Setting Damian down on the ground next to him, Thomas helped Richard into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt and closing the door. The teen passed out practically immediately once settled. Since Damian was a little more awake, Thomas grabbed the preschooler's free hand, the hand rubbing his eyes, rather than the hand that was clutching Batkitty. Thomas walked him around to the driver's side of the minivan. He lifted the kid into a five point booster seat and managed to fastener the seatbelt correctly, mostly due to practice by this point.

Both boys snug and safely secure in their seats, Thomas got himself settled in and started the car. He pulled out of the garage, down the driveway, and out onto the main road, checking to make sure each security measure kicked on behind him.

The drive was a little over three hours. Damian was conked out the whole way, but Richard woke up about an hour and a half in. He blearily looked around and then jerked when he realized that he was in a moving vehicle on a highway. Without fully taking in the situation, the kid decided to dive head first into a panic attack.

Thomas cursed under his breath and quickly found the nearest place to pull off. He hit the hazards button, unclipped his seatbelt, and pulled his grandson into a hug. "Come on, kiddo. It's okay, bud. Shh. Shh. Just me and Dami. Deep breaths. Breathe in. Hold. And out slowly, ok?" Richard's breathing slowed down gradually, and he relaxed into his grandfather's chest as the man coached his breathing. "There you go."

He let Richard choose when to break the hug. Once the teen pushed away slightly, Thomas moved his calloused hands to the boy's shoulders, rubbing firm circles with his thumbs. Richard eventually recovered enough to look his grandfather in the eyes and ask where they were silently.

"We're off on a little vacation, kiddo. Get some sun, teach Baby Bat how to swim, and relax." Richard rolled his eyes up slightly as he thought it over, and then looked back and nodded. Thomas gave his grandkid a hair ruffle. "Tap me if you feel the need to stop for any reason, especially if you're feeling nauseous. A brief respite can do wonders."

Richard nodded, took a deep breath, and settled into a position that allowed him to hang on to the handle and look out both the window and windshield. Thomas flicked on some classical music. His grandson startled at it, but they silently communicated that this kind of music, while unexpected, was okay. Looked like it was one of those days in which Richard mostly watched instead of talked.

Thomas hit a drive thru about 30 minutes from the resort and picked up some healthy-ish meals that were doctor (well, Thomas) approved for the boys. Richard sipped quietly at his strawberry smoothie and watched the road. Damian was still sleeping, somehow. Thomas suspected the little boy had stayed up past his bedtime.

The handicap spot nearest to the hotel entrance was open, but there was also valet. Since Thomas planned to go to the beach after checking in-they were on the early side-he pulled into the spot, making sure that the passenger side was next to the handicap aisle. He turned off the car. Richard unclipped his seatbelt and staggered out of the car. His legs were a bit uncooperative, and he grabbed the door handle mid-fall. It didn't help. In fact, it made his loosely controlled exit into a much less coordinated one because his arm strength wasn't there either.

Thomas barely saw the disaster in time. He managed to get ahold of his grandson before he could hit his head, but the boy was almost entirely on the ground. There were tears in the teen's eyes. His whole face flushed red, as Thomas rearranged himself to give Richard the proper support. He lifted the teen and set him down in the backseat next to Damian's car seat. He kept the door open, so he could keep an eye on both kids.

Richard kept his head down and picked on some strings on his blue sweatpants. Once Thomas got the wheelchair set up, he lifted Richard once more. The kid avoided eye contact as his grandfather set him down gently. Thomas returned to the car and lifted the still asleep toddler from his car seat, settling the boy on one hip. The baby shifted a little before falling back into REM sleep, one arm clutching Thomas's shirt and Batkitty, the other hand popping a thumb into the kid's mouth.

There were free cookies near a small seating area off to the side of the lobby. Thomas steered Richard there and left the wheelchair within easy reach of the snacks. Damian had somehow managed to gain a strong grip in the two minutes Thomas had been holding him and would not be detached. Thomas admitted defeat and walked to the check in counter, body oozing confidence and authority that led those around him to instinctively clear a path despite the small child contradicting the vibe. A hat over his head did little to stem the notoriety and recognition, but it would hopefully see people thinking twice about calling the press.

The resort was not beachfront. Thomas was rich enough that he worried about people hounding him even here. He had chosen to book a private cove that had very few people allowed on a nice stretch about 20 minutes away from the resort. They could enjoy their privacy more easily that way.

Thomas managed to untangle Damian slowly during the course of the check in process. He went to go open the car for the porters and took a short detour to plunk the toddler down on his big brother's lap next to the cookies. Richard reflexively brought his arms up to stabilize the kid. Damian, in the few minutes the boys were out of sight, managed to complete reorganize his body so that he was practically inside Richard's sweatshirt, pressed against the boy's chest sleepily. Richard was gently tapping a cookie to Damian's mouth, careful not to stick it in too far to prevent Damian from choking. He looked up as Thomas reentered. They exchanged sign language okay signs.

Thomas pulled in to the handicap parking spot by the boardwalk and put the car in park. Richard was still holding onto the panic handle next to the window and staring out the front windshield. Thomas gently laid his hand on the teen's shoulder. Richard snapped out of it and looked at him, offering up a feeble smile. The tension was obvious in the boy's shoulders, and he was trembling slightly. Thomas rubbed his shoulder a bit and gestured to the handle. Richard let go of the handle. Thomas gave his shoulder a light squeeze and then got out of the car. He got a finally-awake and curious Damian out of his car seat and set him down, then rounded the car to help Richard out. The boy had mostly recovered from his fall. Generally, on a good day, Richard could stand fairly well on his own now and walk short distances, but he was still weak. Thomas preferred to give the boy some support when walking anywhere outside, especially as the wheelchair would be more trouble than it's worth on the sand.

Richard leaned against the car as Thomas pulled out a beach bag and pulled the straps over his left shoulder. He handed some buckets to Damian to carry and a hat for Richard to put on along with a wakeboard to carry. There was a beach chair as well that he intended for Richard to sit in for some support, and a cooler that he'd need to come back for later. He slung the chair over his back and held out his right arm for Richard to grasp for support walking.

They had to pass through a gate to enter the beach, but otherwise it was fairly open. There weren't too many people around, and most seemed to be absorbed in their own circles rather than looking at who was around. Thomas led the two kids on to the beach. He picked a spot about midway between the water and the footpath they had entered from. They dropped their stuff on the sand, and Thomas released Richard so that he could set up the blanket. The boy teetered but managed to maintain his balance without help, blowing his bangs up with a huff when it took too much effort.

Damian spent the whole time Thomas was setting up their spot staring out at the ocean in awe. Once they were set up, Thomas took the boys to the changing rooms near a small beachside shop. He handed over the bathing suits he had grabbed for them. Damian was giggling at the feel of the sand squelching between his toes. It took some effort to walk on the beach, but the kids seemed to take it in stride.

Thomas had to grab Damian's arm to keep him from running up to the waves when they returned to their spot. The kid was fascinated by the crashing waves. Richard even managed a smile at the toddler's antics. Damian wasn't as happy when his grandfather slathered him in sun tan lotion. Both boys had darker skin from their ancestry, but the lack of sun from their captivity and the time they had spent indoors healing had caused their skin to weaken considerably. They could get some nasty burns without the proper protection. So sunscreen. Doctor's orders. Also, floaties for Damian. He doubted the kid knew how to swim yet. That was today's objective.

Dick anxiously poked his head up from behind a tombstone. It was a rather quiet Saturday, and Bruce was visiting his grave. Again. Which… That was weird on so many levels. The man didn't seem to notice him, but then… Was this a dream? Were they dead and he was just occasionally haunting the living? How did that kind of thing work anyways? Last thing he remembered, he was leaning back on a beach chair, arm thrown over his eyes while his body soaked in what sun it could through a thick layer of sun tan lotion.

The translucent teenager took a deep breath and darted to a closer tombstone in a crouch. He was near Bruce now. Just downwind of the man. Bruce knelt down and laid some flowers on his grave… and Dami's grave? Maybe… were there even bodies? Or did Bruce bury two empty coffins? Well, the gesture was nice, but how did Bruce know they were dead if there was no body?

He felt like he'd seen the flowers before. Biting his bottom lip, he thought back and remembered the freak flower from a few weeks ago. The one that had caught fire as soon as he noticed it.

Bruce let out a long sigh and seemed to slump a bit. Dick snapped back to attention. He leaned closer, curling his legs beneath him. His bare feet tickled when the breeze touched them. He seemed to be almost phasing in and out of existence, flickering like a candle.

"Hey chum." Bruce said, "It's been a crazy couple of weeks. Logan Burton… Well, I suppose you'd know him better as Logarithm." Dick shuddered at the name. He nervously gripped his biceps with opposite hands and chewed his lip. "We caught him, Dickie." Dick's breath caught, and he searched Bruce's face for a catch. There was none. Bruce had a bitter smile, and Dick could see that it was a pyrrhic victory.

"Batman stumbled across him and he ended up with quite a few bruises and possibly a broken bone or two. He… That bastard got his hands on Jason for a couple minutes. I… well… You'd probably call it something funny. I've heard that Wally refers to it as my "DaddyBats mode" or something like that.

"I saw red, Dickie. I saw red and when my vision cleared, he was a mess. I could have killed him, Dick. I couldn't control myself, and, well, I don't know if I can go through that again. If Jason had still been in the area, or if someone had come up on me from behind." Bruce shook his head to get the thought out. He cleared his throat and dashed a hand across his face. Dick studied him curiously. The teen had climbed up to perch on one of the more stable tombstones, legs dangling freely. Bruce never expressed this kind of stuff while he was alive. It was like he didn't know how. Face to face anyways. On the bright side, Dick was now a master at reading subtext and body language.

Bruce took a second to collect himself. "Happier news." The man muttered to himself. "Happy news. Jason is going to a theatre summer camp next week. It's at Gotham Academy. His friend Diana will be there, so he won't be alone. He seems excited. I think he just needs something normal to focus on." Dick slid off the tombstone and crept closer as Bruce talked. "I don't know what we'll do for his birthday in a few weeks. Alfred and I hit up a bookstore for some classics in the same style as his go tos. I guess he got the touch of English that you weren't as keen on."

Dick gently touched Bruce's arm. To his deep disappointment, Bruce gave no indication he saw his son. Maybe it was the raincoat/suit jacket thing? Dick reached down and carefully grabbed one of the Asters. He untangled it from its neighbor, and lifted it to his face, sniffing at it curiously. Bruce's eyes followed the flower. The man reached his hand out carefully, reaching for the stem.

That was when Dick woke up or snapped out of it. Whichever works. Damian had scampered into his lap, sand particles and salt water droplets flying all over. The little kid had a big shell that he'd found, which he wanted to show Dick. He was dressed in a wet bathing suit, all knobby elbows and knees, even as he accidently wacked Dick in the face with one of his floaties and scratched the teen's arm with the edge of the shell. Dick looked down at his hands, feeling something rounded… cylindrical… like a straw.

The purple aster, smoke dying down around the edge of its petals, was woven into his fingertips. Impossible but there.

The sun was going down as Thomas returned from helping haul water for Damian's sandcastle's moat. He plunked down next to Richard who was sitting on the blanket with his arms around his knees. The boy was watching the ocean, staring blankly at the waves, fiddling with a flower he must have picked up somewhere. Did he have that earlier? Never mind. Not important.

"Hey, you still with me?" Thomas asked. Richard flicked his eyes towards him, and gave a brief nod before turning back to the waves.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Richard didn't answer. "Are you alright?" Richard's shoulders slumped and he turned to look at the ground, weaving his fingers through the sand. Thomas waited. Mrs. Shuman, Richard's therapist, had informed him that he needed to give Richard time to speak, and, if it took a while, it meant he was considering how to answer the question. He was considering how much to tell, how much he trusted Thomas with.

"I… I never went to the ocean much as a kid. But… there was a beach outside Mount Justice. We went there a few times. We went on Wally's first day of school, and he came as soon as he got out…" He was tracing an R in a circle in the sand. He smiled. "That was the day Artemis joined the team." He waved his hand through the sand, erasing the R. "I'm glad she did, she was a huge asset and a great person, snarky and funny at the same time. But… she was with me when I was kidnapped. I want to believe nothing happened to her and they just left her behind, but I can't help thinking of what, what happened if she wasn't left behind. Where did she go?"

He sighed.

"On the other hand, knowing she was left behind feels even worse because she didn't have a civilian ID to protect, not like I did. She could fade into the background; she could have gone full out. So, why didn't she save me?" He gave a shudder of a sob. "I, I want to believe she just wasn't enough, but it's so hard. That she didn't just leh-let them take me, But if she wasn't enough, then who would have been? Was there a way I could have gotten away? I… I…"

Thomas placed a hand on Richard's back and rubbed in circles as the boy cried. After a while, he calmed down. They listened to the ocean for a while.

"I don't think I told you. They… They shipped me overseas." He sighed, and pressed his cheek against his knee. Thomas's hand stilled for a moment, but then went back to its circles; Thomas did not want to mess with the peace. "I was alone for three weeks, je pense, just stuck in a dark box. The flashlight they gave me died in the first few days. I ran out of f-food at some point, and fresh aqua, water, after that. The worst part is, I don't… I don't really remember them taking me out. It sometimes feels like I-I'm still there, alone, in the dark, just… feeling the boat rock. If I listened really carefully, I could, I can sometimes hear the ocean."

"Could you hear it like this?" Thomas prompted after a moment, keeping his voice soft. Richard's gaze was far away, but Thomas didn't want to bring him back now that he was finally talking.

"No… Not in the box, it was really quiet there, almost... completely silent, most of the time. But, I was on the dock before that, I think. It still wasn't like this though. The smell was worse, stuffy and a bit like pollution, more than fresh air. It was cold when they carried me in. November. I only had the restraints and a pair of boxers covering me. I had tried to escape the last time they wrapped me in a blanket, so they decided I didn't deserve one. They only gave me one if they were sure I was secure and couldn't reach the locks, and then only so I didn't freeze to death. I could hear those fisherman's bells on the buoys. Just… ringing with the wind." He shuddered. "I was on the dock at least overnight. I know I shouldn't be afraid of- of the ocean; it's so… so… it's the ocean. And I had good memories of it. And now… Now I just think of the box. And… I don't want to think of the box."

"Well," Thomas started. He draped the arm that had been rubbing Dick's back around the boy's shoulders, a gentle pressure encouraging the teen to lean on him. "Now you don't have to. Look up." He said, lifting the boy's chin with his other hand. "What do you see now?"

"I… well…"

"Go on. Tell me. What do you see?"

"I, I see the water. And the sand. And there's a couple seagulls over to the left. And people swimming. And c'est… there's clouds. Stratus clouds. And the sun's setting. There's so many colors. Warm colors, not cool colors, reds and oranges and yellows. They all just blend together. And Dami's castle looks cool. He's got a moat and everything and it looks like he's declared war on it. He has that look he gets sometimes when he's frustrated and determined at the same time. The tide's coming in. It might destroy his castle soon, with how close he is to the edge."

As if sensing the same thing, Damian shifted his gaze from his castle to glare at the incoming tide. The motion was almost perfectly on cue. Richard and Thomas looked at each other and both promptly burst into laughter. Damian whipped his head around to watch them, wide-eyed confusion spreading over his features to replace the glare he'd been giving the water. After a few minutes, the laughter teetered out. Richard leaned back against the beach chair.

"When you think of the ocean," Thomas soothed. "I want you to think of this moment, and moments like this, okay? Think about Damian and his castle. And your friends on the beach."

"Alright, Grandpa. I'll do my best." He took a fortifying breath.

"I'll go bring Damian in, and then we can go get some dinner, okay?"

"Okay." With a quick ruffle of Richard's hair, Thomas went to collect Damian and his buckets. All in all, it felt like a good day.

Damian pouted as Grandpa led him into the restaurant, holding his hand.. His hair was still dripping wet and he hadn't put his socks back on. But he was in mostly dry clothing, so that was something. He was trying to express his displeasure by dragging his feet. Dick kept looking at him and shaking his head with a big smile. The teenager had foregone his wheelchair for the short walk, but had a firm grasp on Grandpa's other elbow.

The day had been fun and full of new experiences. They had taken a long drive somewhere. Damian was snug inside the special chair Grandpa aided to the car for him. When he woke up, they were on a highway, trees and cars flying by. Grandpa was playing some soft music and he could see Dick in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He watched the world zoom by for a while, fascinated by all the different cars flying by, and then went back to sleep. He woke next to the smell of chocolate chip cookies and this weird but good smell. He was nice and warm, and he could feel Dick's arm on his back, hand rubbing his hair.

Opening his mouth earned Danian a small part of the cookie, which he ate with a "Nom," of course. He hadn't had too many cookies in his life, but this one tasted good. Blinking his eyes open sleepily, Damian watched as Grandpa brought them back to the car and fastened him back into the chair while Richard got into the passenger seat. It was a short drive to where they were going. Everything looked mostly new and the whole town was bright and sunny, not like Gotham. Grandpa parked in a space where Damian could see sand and short trees, and blue waves hiding behind the short trees.

Grandpa called this new place a beach. Damian was pretty sure he had been to one before, but he couldn't remember when. They had to change clothing, and Damian had to wear these weird puffy things on his arms and goggles like Dick's but tighter. Then, Grandpa took him out to play in the water. They jumped over waves, and he rode a something board. Dick played too for a little bit, but then a big wave came along and he disappeared for a minute or so, coming back up to cough out water, and he went back to the sand, as Grandpa called the squishy stuff..

After Dick went back to the spot where Grandpa dropped all the stuff, and was sitting in the chair, wrapped in a towel reading a book, Grandpa had Damian hold onto the something-board and kick with his feet. He moved forward a bit, and Grandpa kept a firm hand on him as he led him to a spot where the waves weren't as big. It was fun. The water made a sound like sploosh when he hit it towards Grandpa.

Then, they went back to the sand and Grandpa got buckets and they built a sand temple! Well, Grandpa called it a sand castle, whatever that was, but it was big like a temple. And there was a 'moat', and seashells on top. Grandpa went back to their stuff spot and sat next to Dick, while Damian focused on honing the temples defenses, keeping it safe from the evil waves that tried to destroy it. No Bluemen would be able to get to them there. And there'd be dragons and kitties and elephants! And maybe puppies too. That would be good. Like in 101 Bernese, except the Bernese would be safe from Cruel Ella Deville's evil grasp!

Hmm, maybe Damian should add windows. The Bluemen were allergic to the sun, after all. The light could help. But Tati needed shadows, and Tati was safe, so not too many windows. Just enough. He poked a stick in the side to make a window. Mother liked shadows too. But Mother wasn't scared of anything, and would just be mad at him.

A shadow fell over Damian's sand temple. He looked up to see Grandpa crouching down next to him.

"How you doing over here, bud?" He asked. Damian smiled, and showed off his temple.

To all my followers who are struggling or have struggled, it does get better. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. Don't be discouraged if you fall back a bit. Sometime you need to step back in order to see a path around the obstacle before you.

Thank you to everyone who has commented, left kudos, and subscribed. It always makes my day to see a review, even though I haven't gotten back to people as quickly as I hoped.

I can't promise another update soon. I'm trying to get the plot ironed down, and most of the scenes I have written, except first day of school for several characters, take place later. I might end up doing a time skip, with like a bullet point list of plot points in the time skipped, and come back to write the transition time as a series of one-shots after I finish the main story. Let me know what you guys think.

Excuses/Life Updates:

1. Starting midway through last February (2018). my migraines went from once every 2-3 months to chronic, daily and painful. I mostly have them under control now, but one of the ways I reduce the strain on a day to day basis is by limiting unnecessary screen time. That means while I've written out a ton of possible directions and chapters in my notebook, I haven't typed many of them up.

2. I decided to do the Early-Admit program at my school as I met the requirements: Above a 2.7 GPA(3.3 for me), in good standing, have 1-8 credits left of my undergraduate degree. The Early-Admit program means I graduate twice this year, once in May (B.S. Mechanical) and once in December ( . Aerospace), and only spend one semester as a graduate student. Graduate students have a cap of 20 credits per semester, but Undergrads have a cap of 23 credits. In order to meet the 20 credit rule, with no leeway, I had to take at least 10 credits of Graduate classes in addition to my 7 towards undergrad. I had 1 transfer credit from a class I'd taken for usefulness last year, and signed up for a bunch of one credit courses to get to a point where my last semester would not be too brutal. Additionally, Senior Level and Grad Level classes made for the first semester where 1 credit actually equaled 3 hours of time outside class. Bru-tal.

In other words, I took 20 credits this semester because I wanted to take 16 in the Fall and have some leeway to drop a class if needed.

In other other words, I had no real free time that wasn't spent catching up on sleep or homework.

It was really difficult, but also really rewarding. It was the first semester that I chose every single class I took. Do I regret taking 10 classes? Yeah, kinda. If I went back, would I do it again? Yes. Absolutely.

3. I also was a Teaching Assistant for our design class, which meant I was teaching CAD, machining, and a few different Design Processes. Grading subjective assignments objectively when everyone in the class is starting from different skill and experience levels? Well, it took a long time to grade.

4. Fall 2018 was not much better. I had a couple classes to catch up on that I missed the previous year due to being out on Co-op in the Fall. Ended up with 19 credits with friends in almost all my classes. I averaged 16 credits previously.

5. For the past few years, I've been in the process of recovering from one health issue after another kind of like Dick does in the story. It was a long journey, but I'm happy to say that I am content. And I may have cried the first time I realized it. Several chapters of this story, including ones I might never post, were more therapeutic for me than strictly necessary to the story. Knowing what recovery feels like makes me want to get this story to that point too. But I don't want to skip any building blocks or accomplishments along the way.

Also, this chapter's been ready for over a year, so no real excuses for that.