...

Dick wished he could have found the strength to stay longer than he did. That he didn't feel the pull to call the numbers on the business cards he was given. Every day was a struggle not to feel useless and unwanted. To say that would simply mean he was lying to himself.

His brothers mostly ignored him despite all of his attempts to get closer to them. To ensure that he wouldn't be alone. His birthday was a day he had not celebrated willingly in ten years. Alfred would constantly try to make the day easier. It was Alfred who taught him no one should be alone on the day of their loss.

As Dick had expected he was alone on the night. Bruce was busy with the Joker and the others had pretty much forgotten about him. Even Alfred was gone having to go to a friend's funeral. He wouldn't be back for two more days.

Dick sat at the kitchen table with a coffee mug in his hands. It was warm but cooling off quickly. A decision needed to be made. Would he go with the agency? Or would he stay here?

This was not the first time war broke out in the country. Nor was it the first time their country was deciding to do something insane. The war this time was worse. Metahumans were taking part on both sides.

There was a hidden file being made for a new operation. If this was the operation he was being recruited for he had the feeling it was going to be something that they didn't have last time. A new black ops group? Or were they just looking for someone who had experience leading metahumans?

Somehow Dick doubted it was the latter. It was most likely the former. He needed to make a choice and soon. Was he needed here? No. Gotham didn't need him. His brothers didn't need him either.

Laughter caught his attention as his siblings walked in. Tim, Damian, and Jason walked in wearing their civilian clothes. In Jason's arms were pizzas and by the scent coming off of them, it wasn't any pizza he would eat. Once again he tries to make an effort for them to hang out. Once again he was left alone.

He would take Abbott up on his offer. At least out there, he would be able to make a difference. His brothers ignored him as he put his coffee mug in the sink and headed to his own room. Time to pack and get ready to go.

The next morning with a pack thrown over his shoulder Dick headed out onto the airstrip. When he contacted Abbott the night before he was given an address and a time to be there. He hadn't expected to be flown out immediately. Maybe it was to prevent new agents from getting cold feet. Whatever it was all the same to him.

There was a small plane made for military transport. In front of the loading dock was Conklin. He wore grey military fatigues and a sidearm. Upon seeing Dick he gave a nod of approval before jerking his chin to the plane. It was his final chance to turn around and head home. Something in him said he didn't need to do this. His family loved him in their own way.

For just a moment he hesitated and glanced back towards his bike. Abbott said they would put it in storage for when he returned. If he returned. Shaking his head Dick turned back to the plane and headed up the ramp.

Inside there were a few dozen seats that looked decidedly uncomfortable. Military use and normal. He couldn't expect it to be like the private jets he had used with Bruce. There was a handful of men were scattered throughout the seats. Most of them were gruff and shaggy-looking. Like they had been pulled off the streets.

Warily Dick moved away from the other men. He didn't know them and he was positive he didn't want to. Better to keep to himself for now until he knew more of what was happening. In ten minutes later they had taken off into the air.

...

Bruce frowned as he moved through the south side of the house. No one had seen Richard in nearly a week. Due to how busy things had been in Gotham they hadn't realized how long it had been. Damian had gone to Richard's apartment with his spare key only to find it completely empty. The landlord said the eighteen-year-old had paid off the rest of his lease and said he would be gone for a while.

After a few phone calls, Bruce learned that his oldest son wasn't with his many aunts or uncles. The last anyone had heard from him was his birthday. Alfred was searching the other half of the house. It wasn't unheard of for Richard to hide away in other parts of the manor. There was always some trace of him. Food missing, random plates showing up, light footsteps before he learned to hide them. This time there were none of the signs. He didn't just disappear without a word to anyone. Especially not right after the anniversary of his parents' deaths.

Still, he wanted to search Richard's room for any clues. Upon reaching the door he stopped and listened. There was nothing. Not a single sound that would indicate that there was someone inside.

Opening the door he found at first glance it was empty of anything of value. Richard's bed was made and there was a light dust coating everything. Stepping in he began a methodical search. Most of his clothes and vigilante gear were there. A few of his knives were missing but that was the only thing of note.

It wasn't until his second thorough search that he realized pictures were missing. The one of him and Richard specifically that used to sit on the nightstand. It had been taken a few months after he returned from Jump. All of the more important pictures were gone.

What the hell? He hadn't just left for a short trip. This was meant to be permanent otherwise he wouldn't have taken the pictures. They had to find him.