For those wishing for a quick conclusion, tough luck. Bruce is going to be keeping track of time and it's going to be a bit. To my my fellow American friends, HAPPY THANKSGIVING! I'm having a small meal with my brother and that's it, mostly because we're both lonely folks with nothing else better to do. =P Enjoy!

Dick-16/17 Jason-13 Cass-11/12 Tim-9 Damian-3

Sacrifice

9 – Strength in Names

Dick was in the back of another semi, doing pull ups attached to the roof at Slade's command, when he could feel the vehicle pull to a stop. A short wave radio perked up in his captor's hand and he strained his ears to hear what Wintergreen had to say. They had refueled about an hour ago, or something like that. It was getting harder to distinguish time when he spent most of his time in the dark back of a semi-truck and his regular schedule was ripped to shreds. Time, location, both were growing mysteries to him.

"Only a minor delay with the border patrol. Shouldn't take long."

'Border patrol?' The teen was glad his back was turned to his master while he exercised. He didn't think he could control his features at the same time as doing these exhausting pull ups (his legs had to be stiffly forward the whole time, and he'd been doing them since the station). 'We're going to Mexico?'

"Keep them out of the back," Slade ordered, seemingly bored.

"Shouldn't be a problem."

The man walked around the container, inspecting his form as he worked. "Good form. Your muscles and endurance has improved apprentice. Your legs used to droop after ten minutes."

'Not like I've had much choice,' he mentally chided. His muscles were burning, begging to be released. He'd always been fit, but all the exercises and sparring sessions was turning him into a thing of pure muscle. At least Slade fed him or he would have lost a sever amount of weight. The repetitive motion was boring and annoying to tell the truth. He was used to doing flips and tricks when up that high and in that position. This went against every instinct he had, especially the one to drop down and rest for a good year or two.

"After we start moving again, come down and start your pushups. There's a new technique I want you to apply."

'Take your time Wintergreen!' Dick did not want to learn a new way to push himself off the moving metal below him. Fists, one handed, he really didn't want to think of what would be next.

Slade continued to walk around him, observing him further. "You know," he started thoughtfully, "'Apprentice' is hardly an appropriate name to present you by. You need a proper name to use in the field."

"Not planning on making me use my real name everywhere?" the acrobat grunted, not really happy with it. Well, hearing he was allowed a secret identity helped a little. If no one connected him to Bruce when he did crimes in the future, it'd save him from any trouble with the press or police.

When he did crimes… He really was starting to lose hope of escaping his man.

"It's not professional," his master admitted. "And really, 'Richard Grayson' doesn't strike fear into the hearts of men. I've thought of a few names. Have you?"

"Kidnapped? MIA? Hostage? No Thank You?" Sarcasm dripped from the teen's lips.

"Really apprentice, you need to learn to accept your new place in life." Slade smirked a bit, stroking his goatee. "I was thinking Strife, Rebel, Renegade, Ravenger, Scorn."

"Lots of 'R's and 'S's there." The truck started moving again, making him groan internally. Quickly he performed a backflip, releasing the handholds at the top of the container and summersaulting to the metal floor below. His captor seemed impressed when he landed easily in the shifting metal. "Okay, what's next?"

Six weeks. Bruce was at Wayne Enterprises, working on reports from different parts of his company. Lucius Fox had done everything he could possibly do in his position, even taken on many points normally taken by him, but there were some things only the owner of the company could do, regardless of personal situations. Stocks had gone down after Dick's disappearance (he finally got the media to say that over running away) and if it weren't for his second in command, other companies would be eating them alive. Now he had to step up and seal a few deals to make everything work. It wasn't for his sake that he did this, but for all those who worked underneath him. Dick wouldn't want people to lose their jobs because of him.

Tired and worn, he rubbed his eyes and set aside his pen. Not for the first time he thought about talking to an eye doctor, but more than likely five minutes with Leslie would confirm it was the stress and lack of sleep that was making his eyes hurt and his vision blurry. His sleepless nights, often consumed with either nightmares, thoughts, or leaving his bed to check on the others or work in the cave, wore him down to near nothing. Only if one or more of his children snuck into his room could he sleep, a little. But even with the sleep deprivation and constant worry, the world would not wait for him. He had to return to work.

Nearly half the paperwork was done for the week and it was only Tuesday. Fox really did his best to lighten Bruce's load right then. Being a father too, he could imagine the anxiety Bruce felt and helped where he could. Really, the paperwork before him was only the necessities, and even then the man was struggling to pay attention. He had to keep reminding himself of what Alfred said a few weeks ago. Keep calm and carry on.

Not an easy task.

"Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce looked up at the intercom on his phone, surprised at the interruption. He looked over once to where Damian was napping by the couches then at the time. What would she want at one in the afternoon? He picked up his phone to talk to her softly. "Mrs. Dalton, please, you know it's—"

"I really am sorry to interrupt Damian's nap time," the old woman on the other end started, "but the elementary school just called. Apparently there was a fight and—"

"The elementary school?" Cassandra and Tim? One of them was in a fight? "Are you sure you don't mean—"

"It's Principal Hayne. And he said both of them were in the fight. I haven't heard from the secondary division yet." He took in a deep breath and slowly released it, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Alright. I got the message. I'll be there in half an hour. Tim wasn't sent to the hospital was he?" He could only assume Tim was being bullied and Cass stepped in to defend him. She'd be fine, naturally a gifted fighter since birth and learned faster and better than Dick or he had. Tim though…

"No, the hospital wasn't involved." Mrs. Dalton gave a heavy sympathetic sigh. "Do you want me to—"

"No, I'll take Damian with me. Have Alfred bring the car around while I take care of him alright?"

"Yes sir." The line cut and he let go of the phone. He could already tell this was going to be a long day.

"You really shouldn't pick fights," Cass reminded her brother for probably the fifth time while they waited. Tim just glared at the ground, his headphones on under his black cat hoodie. Truth be told, with the extended antennae on either end of the large all surrounding headphones, he looked more like a bat than a cat at the moment. A very upset yet stonewalled bat. "You never win them."

"They should have shut up then when I told them too," he murmured sourly.

"You know they were only saying things to get a rise out of you." Unlike Tim, Cass had no injuries, just a dirty uniform. The little genius had a black eye, a split lip, and several more bruises to his chest, back and forearms. If his sister hadn't intervened, he probably would have been sent to the hospital.

"I know…"

"They're a lot bigger and older than you too."

"I know…."

"Just because we're all in sixth grade doesn't mean you're automatically able to do everything they can."

"I KNOW!" He snapped a glare at her, surprising the girl greatly. She'd never seen his temper snap like this. He was usually the one who'd burst into yelling tears when he was upset. Glaring and ready to fight wasn't his normal course of action. "Dang it Cass! I know I was going to get the stuffing beaten out of me, but what else could I do?! They can't keep calling Dick those things! I just…" He looked away, shamefaced. "I just wanted them to stop."

"Stop what?" Both their heads jerked up when they saw their father coming towards them. Not wanting to disturb Damian's schedule any more than he already had, Alfred was with him in the car, napping. Bruce though did not look happy; not angry but certainly not pleased about being called down there. "What exactly happened that both of you were in a fight?"

"Uhm…" Tim looked down, trying to hide his face in his hood to not see his father's disapproval. Cass glanced over to the nurse's office not too far off where they could see some boys in their class being tended to. A few parents were in there as well, and the children there weren't horribly hurt. The man noticed them.

"I take it those were your opponents?" He gave them a once over, seeing they were given the light end of the stick compared to his son. Cass was just trying to break up the fight, not hurt them too badly. She always was good at keeping her cool in combat.

She nodded, taking a deep breath before reporting what happened. "We were at the playground after lunch and they were ganging up on Tim for some reason. I think…" The Asian girl cast an uneasy look at her brother, but since he didn't give her any sign to stop, she continued. "I think Tim tried punching one of them for saying something and they started ganging up on him. I just pulled them off of him and made sure they wouldn't be attacking again."

"I can see that. Tim," he gave the boy still hiding in his hood a shrewd look, "why did you start a fight? You knew you couldn't win."

The nine year old stayed silent. "Tim, answer me."

He shook his head vehemently, tightening his scraped fists on his knees. His father was not at all happy about this, and his voice showed it. "Timothy…"

Bruce was about to grab his shoulders and force him to look at him when he notice the boy was trembling. Startled at the sight, he stopped and reconsidered what was going on. Tim had been in a fight, had to be saved by his sister, and now his father was demanding answers. He wasn't used to combat or being beaten up, and it was probably humiliating among other things. Plus Tim didn't start fights. The last time he was part of something considered one he was six.

Kneeling to eye level, he tried to push away his own frustration for being called down there in favor of concern for his son. It was much easier when he could finally see the tears growing in his eyes. Shame, frustration, fear, all of it appeared on his face, making his new battle scars more apparent. Bruce placed his hands on his son's. "Timmy, please, tell me what happened."

"They… they wouldn't shut up!" With those words the floodgates opened and everything came out in one go. "They kept saying Dick ran away because he was a bad boy who did bad things! They said he left because he hated all of us! They said he was a drug addict and that he was trailer trash and a good for nothing gypsy boy who finally realized what his place was! They said the only way we'd see him was in a gutter or behind bars! They said everyone was like that and that eventually Jason and Cass were going to run away too because they weren't worth anything either! They said we k… killed our p…parents! That… that they were d… dead be…because of us! That Dick had k…"

The boy couldn't say anymore. Consumed with shaking and tears, his voice wouldn't work right. Hearing all that, his father's heart throbbed painfully for his boy at the same time as rage filled him for what was said. But his concern overruled his rage as Tim dived into him, wrapping his arms around his neck desperately. "It… it's all lies right? Dick didn't… he wouldn't… he couldn't…"

"No Timmy," he murmured in his boy's ear. "He didn't leave us. He wouldn't. He was taken, and we're going to get him back."

"When?!" Tim demanded, jerking his face to look into his eyes. "When is Dick coming back?! When are they going to find him?!"

"Tim…"

"I want him back!" Fresh angry tears burst forth from his eyes. "I want my big brother back! Where did they take him?! Why isn't he here?! Bring him back!"

"Timothy!" His shout started the kid out of tirade. Bruce's eyes softened as he tried to explain to him. "We're doing the best we can. Everyone is looking for him, day and night, but no matter how much we all want him home now, life moves on without him. And we have to act accordingly."

"But—"

"He's not forgotten and we're not giving up. I swear Tim, we are going to find him, alive and well. But he'd be upset with us if we stopped our own lives just because of him." He butted the boys head softly, gaining his full attention. "Defending his honor and our family is good, but please, think first before throwing punches at people. You aren't big enough to handle half a dozen eleven year olds on your own yet."

Tim hung his head in shame a second later before nodding. He learned his lesson. Not ready to let go of his dad, he buried his face into the crook of the man's neck, holding onto him for dear life. Bruce looked over him to Cass, watching and waiting in her seat silently. Their eyes met and he knew she was burying the same feelings her brother had about what was said. She was just a lot better at controlling herself and her emotions due to her first six years.

He opened one arm up for her and she darted in, releasing her own anxiety on his opposite side. She would never directly reveal her uneasy feelings like everyone else. It was with both his children wrapped around his neck that one of the other parents talking to the principal found them. And with the heavy atmosphere around them, neither knew how to interrupt.

Jason couldn't help but whistle, impressed. "Wow. Tiny Timmy took on six brats? Dang!" He clapped his kid brother on the shoulder in the car. "Way to go Timbo! Maybe we should go for ice cream!"

"You should not be encouraging such behavior Master Jason," Alfred stated flatly, looking at them from the mirror. The butler was taking the children home after dropping their father back at the office to attend a few meetings and get more paperwork done. They wouldn't be seeing him until late that night, if at all. Damian was snuggly strapped in his car seat and technically it was Jason's job to make sure he was entertained. Batkitty did all the entertaining for him. "As it has suspended both of them for the next three days."

"But they're not grounded, right?" The teen grinned at the two of them, trying to lighten the mood to the best of his ability. Being the oldest there, it was his responsibility to try and keep everyone in good spirits. To help everyone get along, keep them happy and entertained, plus play mediator between them and Dad were his main jobs now. That's what Dick did. Defending them when he could too, but it was looking like Cass could take care of herself and then some. And now Tim was stepping up to the plate. "That's just plain amazing. I always got grounded. Still do."

"That's because your fights were over useless subjects and prove nothing other than your temper."

"And that I'm a better fighter." He grinned proudly, reminiscing with Alfred all the times he got in trouble for fighting at school in the past.

Cassandra and Timothy though did not share his elation at what transpired. Instead they were quietly thinking about how they'd be stuck at the manor with Alfred, likely cleaning with him and taking down Christmas decorations, until the following week. Their father hadn't grounded them on account of what the fight was over and saying he'd likely start a fight as well under those circumstances, but their butler wasn't about to let it slide so easily.

It wasn't being punished though that subdued them. It was the fact that nothing changed, even with all their tears and shouts. They really felt helpless, useless. The fight did nothing but suspend them for a next few days, leading into the weekend. That and prove Cass was still a much better fighter than Tim was.

"Cass?"

"Hm?"

Her younger brother looked at her with a slight plea in his face. His voice stayed soft and low so only she could hear. "Teach me how to fight. I'm sick of being the weak one everyone has to save."

She looked up and down the boy for a moment. Did he really know what he was asking? "Tim, you're better than you think."

"Not good enough." He held on tightly to himself as he looked forward again. "I need to be stronger. Strong enough to protect myself and others. Strong like you and Dick and Dad and Jason. Maybe if I was stronger…"

He left it hanging but Cass could read him better than most. He was beginning to believe it was his weakness that made Dick go away. He was protecting them when he left, they all came to that conclusion weeks ago. Damian was a toddler so there was nothing they could do about him, but Dick had taken down a crime lord by Tim's age. Cass could whoop Jason around when she was seven. Jason had won against and taken down people much bigger than him several times around the same age. Tim was the only one who hadn't a prayer against an adult in a fight. He was weak and they all knew it.

"It's not your fault," his sister told him softly. "It's whoever took him's fault. You know that."

Tim's lips tightened for a minute, silently thinking. "Either way, I need to get stronger. Please teach me."

Cass studied him for a moment silently, thinking it over. They'd worked on building his muscles, coordination, tumbling and quick strikes so he could take hits, escape capture, or take advantage of situations when they were kidnapped. He was rather good at escapes. He had the necessary skills for getting out of tight scrapes, just none yet to test in combat situations. Reluctantly she sighed.

"Alright, but you can't complain or quit if it gets too hard. Obey every order and there shouldn't be any problems. Deal?"

A smile spread on the boy's face, confident and ready to start. It wasn't something she was used to seeing on his him, but was frequently there on both Dick and Jason's faces. Boys… "Deal."

A/N: So now Tim's getting training from Cass. Didn't her mom help train him in the comics? That's why she's going to train him now. Cass will always be one of the better fighters in the family, usually beating or fighting Dick to a stand still. I know Tim didn't do too bad in that fight in 'Kitten Napped' but he didn't win either. He was just trying to escape, and that's his greatest skill at the moment, not fighting. Jay's got his street rat roots, Cass the assassin parents, and Dick's the natural, hence their young fighter pro-ness. And Tim's what? a smart rich kid, nuff said. He doesn't get to fight much in this series I think, but when he does he'll surprise people.

And yes, Dick's going to Mexico. I google mapped one region looking for a geography near the northern parts that fit what I was looking for and was glad there were few people living in that area. Training, the majority of it, will take place there. No, that's not where he will be found. his road-warrior ways will not end there and they will be returning to the states. three guesses where they'll be headed next. Why Mexico? because I felt like it, and people in Mexico wouldn't be looking for him.

Hey. I noticed I don't have very many training scenes in this world. Does that bother anyone that I mention it but never really show it? Fight scenes are hard to write... Oh well. Laters.