"Hey Timmy." Dick greeted his younger brother with a small smile as he entered his room.

Tim returned the greeting only with a nod.

Dick sighed to himself.

He was so tired that he was playing psychologist to his siblings, but he still had to hang in there.

He could endure.

Better yet, he must endure.

The eldest Wayne looked at the third-born. "Timmy, I know there's something you want to talk about. You know you can tell me anything, right?" he smiled sweetly when he nodded frantically.

Tim bit his lip for a few seconds before speaking. "I-I don't think I can get through this." he confessed in a slightly trembling voice.

Dick had expected everything, expected his little brother's worst fears.

But not this.

"I'm not sure I'll be able to get over his death either." the eldest son reluctantly admitted, catching him off guard.

Tim knew that Bruce's death had obviously hit all of them hard.

But he knew that the person who was suffering the most was Dick himself, and the reason was obvious.

He knew Bruce much more than anyone else excluding Alfred did. The two had a unique and rocky relationship that differed from the one Bruce had with his other sons.

Dick released a long breath and looked at his hands for a few seconds before returning his weary gaze to his little brother's blue eyes. "I admit there's a chance that the void created by dad's death... may never go away." he began slowly. "But..." he interrupted himself.

"But?" repeated Tim softly.

"But I will do my best to make sure you and the others get through it."

"Why?"

Dick did not answer.

Tim was silent for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth. "You lost your third parent, the one who raised you and stood by you more than anyone else did in your life. It only takes one look to see how much pain you are radiating. Yet you still care about us."

Dick smiled slightly. "I knew you'd get there, after all you're not the best detective in the world without a good reason." he confirmed.

What Tim had said was right.

Silence fell in the room.

"I would do anything for you and the others."

Tim smiled sadly. "We know." he affirmed softly.

Silence returned to the room.

Dick silently extended his arms in a clear invitation.

Tim did not repeat it twice and threw himself into them.

Dick placed a trembling kiss on the top of the youngest's head as he hugged him fiercely.

Minutes passed until Tim fell asleep in the secure arms of his older brother.

The acrobat laid him gently on the bed and placed a light kiss on his younger brother's forehead. "Sweet dreams, Baby Bird."

Dick knocked impatiently on Jason's door.

"Whoever you are, fuck off and stay there." came the rude reply from across the room.

The last Flying Grayson pinched his nose, irritated and tired. "Jason, open this door!"

"And why the heck should I, golden boy?"

"Because I'm going to color your Red Hood helmet the brightest pink you've ever seen in both of your lives."

Richard heard him utter several insults and imagined him dramatically opening his eyes wide. He chuckled as the door was opened by a more than irritated Jason.

He entered the second son's room and turned to face him, arms crossed and looking serious.

Jason stared back at him. "I know that look. It means there's going to be some grossly emotional and serious talk. Do I have to hear it?" he groaned annoyed when the major nodded. "Damn."

Dick walked over and positioned himself a few inches from the 16 year old without ever taking his eyes off him. "Jay, the way you are handling Bruce's death is unhealthy and will cause pain not only to others but also to yourself. You can't keep insulting and threatening everyone."

"You don't know shit about what I'm going through!" he growled, his eyes fading slightly from classic blue to teal (due to Lazarus' pit).

"Really?" he asked sarcastically, rolling his eyes. His eyes softened. "Little Wing, you can't go on like this. Let me help you, let-"

"I DON'T NEED HELP!" he shouted as his eyes turned completely teal. He pointed his index finger at his chest and hit him. "And most importantly, I don't need your help, asshole!"

Dick raised his hands in the air in a sign of peace, deciding to ignore and not be offended by his younger brother's words.

Even if a little bit those words hurt him.

"Jay, I just want you to be okay and-"

"I am fine!" he interrupted him abruptly. When the elder opened his mouth to speak, he preceded him. "Get out."

Richard froze.

Had he heard correctly?

"What?"

"Get out of my room." Jason repeated, his eyes still "corrupted" by the pit of Lazarus.

Dick shook his head. "No."

Jason narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Get out." he repeated, growling.

The major shook his head again.

Jason moved and extended his arm to strike him. Dick saw it coming and blocked it easily and then pulled him toward himself and pulled him into a strong and firm hug.

Jason cursed and struggled, trying to free himself but failing. Instead of surrendering, he threw a headbutt at the nose of the acrobat who stepped back bringing his hands to his sore and bleeding nose, freeing the second-born.

Jason pulled his arm back with the intent of hitting him a second time but froze when he heard Richard chuckle humorlessly. "Well well, Jason, that's what you've become." he pushed his hands away from his face and crossed his arms, unknowingly staining his sleeves with blood as more came out of his nose. "A boy who willfully injures his only older brother with the sole intent of hurting him. What would Bruce think of you?"

A flash of apology and shame passed through Jason's eyes before anger reappeared. "You deserved it!" he spat venomously as he lowered his arm.

With lightning speed the major grabbed his successor's right arm and pointed it at his own face. "Then come on! Hit me! Pull your arm back and hit me a second time with all your strength!"

Steel blue eyes met uncertain teal eyes.

Jason stared first at his own arm and then at his brother's eyes. They stood in a heavy silence for about ten seconds that was interrupted by a trembling sigh from the younger man as he relaxed his tense muscles.

His eyes slowly returned to their natural color and Dick released his arm. Jason looked away but the acrobat gently and firmly took his chin at the same time forcing him to meet his gentle gaze. "You are loved, Jay. Don't forget that there are people who care for you, who love you with every fiber of their being. My only wish at present is that my Little Wing be well."

Jason swallowed and stepped back to lean against the doorframe. "I..." he firmly met the major's gaze. "I'm sorry I hit you, Dickie-bird." he looked away as a small blush made its way onto his face.

Dick smiled brightly in a sign that he had quietly forgiven him before getting serious a second time. The 16 year old noticed it and sighed. "How many things do you have to tell me, golden boy?" he muttered, though there was no trace of irritation.

"Jay, look at me." Dick waited until Jason met his gaze before continuing. "In case I get seriously injured or something, I want you to be the bravest and step forward, for our siblings. You will have to be brave for them. You are the only one who can do it, besides maybe Dinah but still I am relying on you."

"Damn it, why do you have to throw it yourself?" he scowled even as he internally thanked the major warmly for trusting him for such an important task.

He was dismayed at how much trust Dick placed in him, and mentally promised himself that he would not let him down.

"I can do that." he readily agreed.

Dick nodded and a shadow of insecurity flickered across his face before it disappeared just as quickly.

Jason already knew that whatever he would say would not please him.

"Also, promise me that if I were to die-"

"Don't even joke about that, Dickhead!" Jason growled as the thought of his dead older brother flashed through his mind. He could not help shuddering at the mere thought of a life without Dick.

"You know there's always a chance of that happening, Jay-birdie." he spoke gently.

"Yes, just as there is always a chance that I will die a second time." he retorted.

Dick's face grew dark. "Not on my watch. I would kill to keep you safe, as well as for others. I can't lose another person I love. I can't lose you again."

Jason struggled to swallow.

Dick breaking the one rule that was sacred to him, implanted in his head from a young age, for which he had even made an oath to Bruce Wayne himself (and had been the only Robin to do so) to save Jason himself, coupled with the fact that he had technically killed the Joker after his death...

Only now did he understand why Bruce saved the damned clown.

"Go on, Dickhead." he grunted, refusing to admit to himself that he was overwhelmed by stupid emotions.

"I was saying, if I were to die, it's your turn."

"My turn?" Jason repeated confusedly.

"Your turn to be Batman."