A/N: I'm so sad. The original title on ao3 won't fit within the word count here on FFn. It's supposed to be: 'The International Murder Spy Should've Just Gotten Milk'

So yeah, if y'all thought I was joking about the unhinged titles: no, I was not X) But guess I'll have to adapt and overcome.

So this is a flashback chapter that suspends a cliffhanger, sorry. Next chapter, it'll be clear why this had to be HERE of all places, I promise. I will upload the conclusion of the cliffie of last chapter in 2 days or so. I'm not THAT cruel :) (Or, if you're really impatient, the fic is updated to chapter 13 on AO3)

And please know I'm not following any sort of canon for this! I've picked the events I want to happen, and for anything else, it's the wild west babey. This is a custom Spyral return that better fits how everyone acts in the fic- If I just pushed through with canon, it would've made everyone's behaviour wildly inconsistent. So yeah, if canon divergence bothers you, this might not be the fic for you X)

Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

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Two Years ago

Nightwing flew through the Gotham skyline like he defied gravity. The entire city basked in the moon's silver sheen, and this high up the air was crisp, each breath a soft cloud of mist escaping from his lips.

Tonight, he was going home.

His hand went to his temple, froze, then moved to his wrist to access his glove computer. He had to keep reminding himself the implant was gone. He'd rubbed at the spot all day yesterday, trying to feel for the little disc that had made his life such misery.

But Tiger had spoken the truth when he said Grayson was free to go.

He hadn't dared contact his family with the stupid thing inside his skull. Everyone in Spyral would've been able to see through his eyes, and at the same time, the Hypnos implant could produce powerful hallucinations that made it hard to know reality from fiction.

It had been a leash, and now it was finally gone. The stars were real, the honking cars and the yelling people were real. The distress signal on his glove was real.

He really was in Gotham, in the same city as his family. It had only been a year since he'd stepped foot here, but it might as well been a decade. He'd forgotten how light the stretchy Lycra of his Nightwing suit was — both as Batman and Agent 37 he'd worn heavy Kevlar. Lycra wouldn't stop a bullet, but it wouldn't have to, with the way it allowed him to soar. He felt lighter than air, almost drunk with the ease his body moved.

He remembered now, why he'd become a vigilante.

He checked the GPS and swung towards crime alley, careful to stay out of sight. The moment he stepped into the bunker below the penthouse, a distress signal from Batman had come through. He could hardly ignore it, even though he hadn't meant to suit up. He'd tried to contact him, but both his and Robin's comms were turned off or destroyed. Seemed Nightwing would meet Batman and Robin before Dick got to see Bruce and Damian.

Batman hadn't called him to come back, but three months ago he'd stopped responding to Grayson's updates, so clearly the intel he was gathering was no longer needed. Without a mission keeping him there, he started fighting tooth and nail to find his way home.

But Spyral wasn't a club you just left — they guarded their secrets even closer than the Justice League. The thought of one of their agents leaving without an implant was enough to issue a liquidation. In the end, it only stopped when he helped his former partner, Tiger, take control.

He hated looking at Tiger. All he saw in his eyes were the awful things they'd done together. Smuggling. Theft. Arson. Torture. Murder. All for the sake of peace.

Despite that, Tiger had been his only friend in Spyral, the only one who trusted him enough to let him go. In turn, Grayson trusted Tiger to keep his promise.

Nightwing arrived at the building the distress signal came from, an empty warehouse in the East City. With the press of a button, his heat sensor overlapped his sight, and he saw Batman and Robin kneeling in the middle of the building. Their hands were on their backs like they were tied, and they were surrounded by ten heavily armed guards. Of course, their guns didn't show up on the heat sensor, but the way their arms bent meant they had something semi- automatic and two handed. Probably Carbines or AK-47's, depending on their dealer.

As Agent 37, he'd carried a handgun. Used it when the need called for it. He still preferred hand to hand, or solving things before violence became necessary. He'd slept around a lot, after he realised semen didn't stain his conscience like blood did. That didn't seem to be an option tonight, though.

There was one other person inside, standing a few feet away from the others. This one wasn't holding a weapon, but their relaxed body language meant they probably didn't need it. Must be the leader.

Satisfied with his scouting, Nightwing circled the building until he found an unguarded window just below the roof. It was the size of a doormat and thus ruled out as an intruder risk. This day and age, people really should know better. Beside himself, he knew at least ten people who would have no trouble squeezing through.

The moment he opened the window, he recognised Black Mask's voice. "Seems like you and the brat finally overstepped. Did you really think I'd leave such valuable cargo unattended?" So it was Roman Sionis. That meant no superpowers, making this rescue a lot less complicated.

Nightwing moved through the rafters like a ghost, dancing between the iron catwalks until he crouched right above the villain. Only then he allowed himself to look at Batman and Robin.

They were bound by thick iron shackles, both to the floor and to each other. Batman's leg stuck out at a weird angle, and Robin awkwardly tried to cover his side with his cape, hiding a possible injury. They were both gagged. Damian looked taller, and his hair was cut shorter than he'd ever had it when he lived with Dick in the penthouse.

The possibility of Damian being hurt made anxiety creep up his veins, but he forced himself to stay still. If the guards spotted him before he acted, things would get messy.

Sionis stood away from the others, his black skull mask cast in the warehouse's shadows. "Joker isn't going to be happy with me, but I'm quite done with your endless meddling. Maybe it's time you retire permanently." He gestured to his masked gang members, who raised their weapons. Was he just going to execute them without pulling the trigger? What a coward.

Luckily, cowards were easy to manipulate.

Nightwing let himself fall, landing behind Sionis silently. The way the man faced away from the darkness made it too easy. He reached towards the man's side and pulled his own handgun from its holster, pressing it against his temple.

"Who dares— "

"Long time no see, everyone!" All the guns in the room snapped towards him. Batman and Robin stopped struggling, staring at Nightwing with wide eyes. Robin tried to say something, but the gag in his mouth stopped the words. God, Nightwing couldn't wait to hug him. He wanted to know everything he missed. How was he doing in school? Did he get that dog they were talking about? Damian deserved a dog.

Black Mask glared at him. Right.

"Now here's what's going to happen," Nightwing said to the guards. "You are going to free Batman and Robin, or Skeletor here will get a bullet through his skull."

The goons hesitated. After a beat of silence, Black Mask burst out laughing. "I don't know what hole you crawled out of, but you don't have the guts. Never had, never will."

Typical.

Nightwing cocked the gun, aimed at Black Mask's right foot, and pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the warehouse as the villain cried out. He bent over, grasping for his hurt foot. Nightwing stuck out his leg, and the man fell on his stomach, blood dripping through the hole in his shoe. Nightwing planted a foot between his shoulder blades and aimed the gun at his head. It was a disgustingly ornate revolver with a gold-coated cylinder. Useless in a gunfight, but just fine for a quick shot or two.

He knew Batman wouldn't be happy about the gun, but at least he and Damian wouldn't be dead. Nightwing would murder every last bastard here if it meant Robin lived. If Bats thought that was wrong, well, then Nightwing was fine with being wrong. His hands were too stained to play saint when his family's lives were involved.

"Want to try that again?" he pushed his heel down into the small of Sionis' back.

Black Mask stayed silent. Nightwing cocked the hammer.

" …Stand down."

"And?"

"Free them."

"Good boy."

Nightwing kept the gun on Black Mask as the goons undid Batman and Robin's restrains. He sent out a silent prayer when Robin wasn't injured — his cape had been concealing his katana, not a wound. Batman's leg was very much broken, though.

Both of them glared at Nightwing, silent even as their gags were removed. He understood. He didn't want their reunion to be like this, either. They'd save the tears for when they were alone.

"Go," Nightwing said after the last of the goons had dropped their guns. "I'll follow."

Batman held on to Robin, half hopping, half leaning as they made their way outside. Once they disappeared, Nightwing disarmed the gun, letting the bullets clatter to the floor next to Sionis' face. He threw the weapon against the brick wall, where it shattered. These fancy handguns never withstood much. He selected the laser from his glove and zigzagged the pointer across the stack of carbines on the floor, cutting all of them to pieces. The gadget was meant to cut windows during stealth missions, but it did the job just fine.

He looked at Black Mask and his men, debating his options. He should tie them up and call the police, but if he used his hands to tie one of them, the others would be free to retaliate. The crates behind them could hold a number of dangerous things that he should confiscate or destroy, but without knowing what it was, he couldn't just laser them through. And if he checked, his hands would be occupied, leading to the same problem as before. No, there was no way to finish this alone.

Plus, Batman and Robin were right outside. On the same continent. In country and city, just one wall away. He couldn't waste any time when their true reunion was this close. So today, Black Mask would be lucky. If Batman had a problem with it, Nightwing would hunt the man down personally.

"You will pay for this," Black Mask said. He knelt on one knee, clutching his hurt foot with both hands.

Nightwing looked around the tiny warehouse. A few untrained guards, cheap guns, and a cowardly leader. Sparring with Tiger had been more intimidating than being held at gunpoint by these idiots.

"I doubt it."

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As soon as Nightwing left the building, Robin jumped him. God, Damian. Damian. Damian. Damian, this prickly child that had wormed his way in to Dick's heart. He moved to hug the boy. How he'd ached for this moment, how he'd—

A pinch in his gut. He slowly stepped back, following the push of the blade threatening to spear him.

"How dare you," Robin said, silent rage in his voice. "I cannot fathom what pushed you to desecrate Nightwing's legacy like this, but if you don't get out of my sight, Batman won't be able to stop me from killing you. If I ever see you in that suit again, I will make sure it is the last thing you'll ever wear."

Nightwing's heart hammered in his chest. Desecrated? Legacy? Had Bruce not… had he not told Damian he was alive? They'd agreed that the fakeness of his death was on a need to know basis, but he never thought Bruce wouldn't include his family on that list. Damian, Tim, Jason, Alfred, Steph and Cass… Did none of them know? It couldn't be. It couldn't.

But here Damian was, pointing his sword right at Dick's heart.

"Damian," he whispered, and Robin froze. His katana clattered to the ground.

"No, it can't be—"

Dick rushed forward, circling his arms around the boy and hugging him close. This time Damian let him.

"It's me, Dami. It's me."

Damian stayed frozen in his arms, then started to shake. He let out a sob, and Dick's heart shattered. The boy buried his face in Dick's side.

"Why?" he whispered. "How?"

"I'm sorry," Dick said, even though the words would never be enough. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He held Damian and let himself be held, not worrying about their costumes or the warehouse's camera's or Batman sitting in the Batmobile with the door open, staring at Dick like he was a unicorn.

After a while, something shifted in Damian, and he pushed Dick away. "How could you?" he asked.

And for once, Dick was at a loss for words. He hadn't known, he wanted to say, but what difference would it make? He'd still left. He shouldn't have trusted Batman to tell the others, should've pushed harder to keep contact.

Shouldn't have left at all.

"I thought you were dead."

"I know, Little D. I'm sorry."

"You— you— why?"

Dick's mouth opened, then closed.

"It was necessary," Batman said from the Batmobile. He was sitting sideways in the passenger seat, his broken leg dangling out the open door.

"You knew?!"

"Dami—" Dick tried to wrap his arms around him, but Damian pushed him away and stalked towards Batman.

"You lied to me! I mourned him! I— I— You told me he was dead!"

"It wasn't his fault, Dami." The words hurt to say, but pushing all the blame on Batman wouldn't solve anything. In the end, Dick was the one who left. The one who deserved to fall for his own mistakes.

"This was why I didn't tell you," Batman said. "You're too easily compromised when it concerns him."

"I hate you!"

"Robin," Dick said. He hated using this voice, but the boy needed to calm down. They were still out in the open and dangerously close to Black Mask's gang. If they sensed there was discord…

"No, you don't get to— you don't get to just come back and order me around!"

You don't get to just come back. What had he been thinking? That his whole family would cry and laugh and hug when they saw him? That everything would magically be all right the moment he set foot in Gotham? How mad had he been at Bruce for faking his death, only to turn around and do exactly the same? He deserved it, that broken, angry stare Damian gave him. Still, this wasn't the time or place to break down. He kneeled down to Damian's level, looking the boy straight in the eye.

"You have every right to be mad at me," he said. "What I did wasn't okay, and you'll never have to forgive me if you don't want to. But right now, we need to leave. Batman needs medical attention, and we're way too exposed."

Damian swallowed, breathing harshly as he composed himself. His fists clenched and relaxed at his side as he saw the logic in Nightwing's words. Silently, he picked up his katana and sheathed it in its scabbard.

"Thank you," Dick whispered. Damian just looked away. God, he'd ruined everything. Not just by leaving, but by coming back.

Together they helped Batman get his leg in the passenger seat, careful to move him as little as possible. He stared straight ahead with his jaw set, making Dick more confused by the second. Why had Batman stopped contacting him? He thought it had been a sign to come home, but maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe it had meant he was no longer needed here, that he should have stayed away.

When Robin moved towards the driver's side, Batman grabbed Nightwing's arm.

"Your mission wasn't over," he said below his breath. "You were supposed to stay put."

Stay put. Stay put. Stay. Put. Like he was a fucking dog. Every sacrifice he'd made the past year. Leaving his brothers, his friends, the Justice League and the Titans. Retiring Nightwing. Raising Damian. Leaving Damian. Having his core values dragged through the mud until they sank so deep, they disappeared. And Batman thought it was just staying put?

He wanted to scream, but Damian was right there. So instead he grind his teeth together and pushed the hurt towards the back of his mind, where it would stay with the rest of his demons.

"It's good to see you too, Bruce."

Batman let go of his arm. "This isn't over."

"No, I guess it isn't." Because he was never leaving again. This time, Batman would actually have to kill him to make it happen.

Just when Dick moved to close the car door, Red Robin swung down from a nearby roof. "You guys all right? I was with the Titans, but I saw an unknown had picked up your distress signal, so I checked your comms and they were…" He froze when he saw Nightwing.

Seemed like the universe was hell-bent on making his return as difficult as possible. Was everyone just going to stumble on him and freak out? All he'd wanted was to call everyone to the Manor, or maybe the penthouse, and catch up over dinner. But that plan was dead the moment he realised no one but Bruce knew he was alive. Now he'd have to call everyone one by one, get yelled at, apologise. Then apologise some more while more people cried and yelled.

At least he got to rip the band-aid off with both Damian and Tim on the first night, right? Did it count as a positive when he was this close to breaking down in tears?

"What TV show did I watch in the Cave when I first became Robin?" Red Robin asked.

Dick blinked. "Steven Universe." At that age, Tim was already such a good hacker that he never would've known if he hadn't caught him in the act, curled up in a blanket while he thought Nightwing and Batman were in Bialya. It was one of the few things between them Dick was certain no one else knew. Not even Batman.

Tim stared at him like he grew a second head. "Shit," he said.

Dick waved, not knowing what else to do. He wasn't sure a hug was what Tim needed right now, even if he ached with the want to do so.

"Yeah. Um— Hi."

Another beat of silence. Then Tim said, "I can't deal with this." He grappled back up to the roof and disappeared.

"Wait!" Dick yelled, but it was already too late. God, what was he going to do? Should he go back to the cave with Damian, or chase Tim? He looked up to the roof where Red Robin vanished, then through the window of the Batmobile, where Robin was setting up the autopilot, face blank. Dick didn't think the boy even noticed Tim just swung by.

Both needed his attention, but how could he choose? He didn't want to leave Damian. He didn't want to let Tim go. It tore him in two, right in the middle of his heart.

Batman sighed. Dick had completely forgotten he was there. "If only you'd listened, you wouldn't be in this mess. You weren't supposed to come back like this."

You weren't supposed to come back like this.

You weren't supposed to come back.
You weren't supposed to come back.
You weren't supposed to come back.

You weren't supposed to come back.

No matter how hard he tried to shove the words down, they refused to stay, echoing through his mind until he was sure it must be the Hypnos implant playing tricks on him. This had to be fake. It had to be. It had to. Dick pressed a trembling hand to his temple.

Below his fingers, the skin was smooth.

It was too much. He pulled out his grapple, aimed at the building opposite of where Tim fled, and let the line take him away.

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Three hours later, Nightwing stood on top of the penthouse, completely wrecked in both mind and body. He'd run across the rooftops, ignoring his burning lungs as he kept moving. He didn't think beyond the next rooftop, the next foothold, the next jump. Scan the roof. See a foothold. Make the Jump. Rinse. Repeat. Rinse. Repeat.

Eventually, he found himself on top of the penthouse. The realisation had frozen his body, and as soon as he stopped moving, his muscles had locked up so badly he almost fell over. Defeated, he sat down right on the edge of the roof, dangling his legs over the edge. The lights were off inside, and they'd wrapped most of the furniture.

When he and Damian had been a pair, they'd lived here, both hating the oppressive air that surrounded the Manor. They'd operated from the bunker below the building, and Alfred had driven Damian to school in the black car that was parked in the residents' shared garage. Dick had commuted to Blüdhaven for work in his old beater car. Alfred always nudged him to take one of Bruce's instead, but he never did.

It hadn't been perfect, but it had been the closest he'd ever been.

Of course, Bruce had taken Damian and Alfred back to the Manor with when he returned. He'd offered Dick the penthouse, and despite his vow to leave Gotham as soon as he could, he found himself accepting the gift. If only to stay close to Damian. But by then, Batman had already been planning his Spyral mission. He never had time to move back in after the mayhem of Bruce's resurrection ended. Now it was just an unlit lighthouse in the Gotham skyline he'd crashed into.

"Holy shit," a voice said from behind him. "The brats were right." When Dick turned he saw Red Hood walking towards him, helmet already off. His hair was longer, the white stripe he used to paint black in full view. His eyes, once green and angry, were mostly blue.

"Jason."

Jason offered his hand and Dick took it, letting himself be pulled away from the edge. Between Tim and Damian, he'd almost forgotten his oldest youngest brother. Back when he was Batman, he'd never been sure if Jason still wanted to be family. Sometimes they'd patrol together, and other times, Red Hood would gag at the suggestion.

"Those shits probably forgot to tell you, but we're all glad you're not dead." He poked Dick's face. "You're not, right?"

"No," Dick said. "No, I just…" He'd just abandoned all of them. And now Jason was just casually talking to him, like he'd left to get milk instead of faking his death to become an international murder spy.

"Sorry, but why aren't you angry?"

Jason barked out a laugh. "Oh, I'm fucking furious. Like, what the absolute fuck were you thinking? You know what a hardass Bats is? At least you stayed out of my way when you wore the cowl."

"Ouch," Dick mumbled. Jason probably meant it as a joke, but if he faced anymore rejection, he wasn't sure he'd make it through the night.

Jason patted his arm. "You're a fucking mess, aren't ya?"

"You don't know the half of it."

His brother shook his head, taking a cigarette from his pocket. Dick said nothing as he light it — whatever shit they did to his lungs, his brother already knew and didn't care. Another time he might've joked about it, or tried to steal the stick from his fingers, but right now, he just followed Jason's gaze down into the city. The horizon glowed faintly, minutes away from dawn. Traffic was already starting up, headlights sparkling through the early morning fog.

Jason took a drag from his cigarette. "I'm only going to say this once. I don't care where the fuck you were. I don't care what the fuck you were doing. But if you ever leave again, I'm chasing your ass to the end of the earth and putting a bullet through your skull. You better appreciate my infinite fucking kindness, you Dickhead."

Dick stared at Jason. His biggest little brother, who'd actually died, should've been the angriest out of everyone. But here he was, when both Damian and Tim weren't, saying shit like 'I'm glad you're back' and 'don't leave again'.

"Just… why?"

At first, Jason didn't speak. He looked down at the city, his gaze far away. "When Bats found out I was Hood, he demanded I come back to the fucking manor, told me I should've come back the moment I woke up. You know how he gets. Never mind all the murdering, the real crime was not coming when called like fucking Fido. It was a shit show. Obviously, I didn't want him to know about any of it, since he's a prick and it's none of his business. But he wouldn't let those three years go. Even went to fucking Talia to find out I was catatonic for most of it, the shit-eating bastard. But you…"

Jason smiled. A genuine, non-sarcastic smile that looked alien on his rough face.

"You never asked."

"Jason… " What could Dick even say to that? He'd always known that Jason hadn't been the same after he came back. The Lazarus pit wasn't meant to reanimate the dead, and its use had consequences. But even if he changed, he was still the same brother Dick loved, and that had been enough.

"I'm sorry I left," Dick said. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there." He moved to hug Jason, but his brother pushed him away. He took another big drag of his cigarette, then stomped it out on the roof.

"Don't get weird on me, Big Bird. If you want a hug, you gotta give me something to gag in first."

To his surprise, Dick felt a laugh bubbling up. "Oh my god, Jason. You're horrible."

Two shadows landed on the other side of the roof. Robin and Red Robin. Dick didn't think he'd ever see them stand next to each other without it starting a bloodbath, but as he had learned, a lot could change in a year.

"You're a hypocrite," Tim said, pointing an accusatory finger at Dick. "I thought you were better than this, and I hate that I was wrong! What the hell, Dick?! I thought you trusted me! We're going to talk about this, and you're going to explain, and I'm going to be very mad at you for a very long time! You're an idiot and I hate you!"

Before Dick could digest his words, Tim marched forward and enveloped Dick in a bone-crushing hug.

"Asshole. Please don't leave again."

How had Dick survived a year without his family? He put his arms around Tim, returning the hug with even more pressure. God, Tim. he had to be eighteen now. Had Dick missed his birthday? Another thing to add to the list.

"Never again, Timmy. I'm so, so sorry." He felt like a broken record, but what else could he say? 'Sorry' is such a meaningless word, but no action he took mattered unless it was spoken.

"I just wish you didn't have to find out this way," he whispered. Tim shook his head against Dick's chest.

"I'm just glad you aren't dead."

"Fucking amen," Jason said, raising an imaginary glass. He even held his pinky up.

One thing was still missing from this picture. Dick looked past Tim's shoulder, where Damian looked at the three of them with a blank face. It seemed like he didn't really know what to do with both Jason and Tim here. It had always been hard for him to show affection when others were around.

"C'mere," Dick said, opening up the arm Tim didn't occupy. Damian's eyes flickered to Jason, who got the hint and looked away.

Then Dick had both his littlest brothers in his arms. He hugged them close, and when he felt tears well up in his eyes, he made no motion to stop them. They all pretended to be fine, and for tonight, it was enough.

Dick wasn't sure what was going to happen in the future. He'd done so many things, crossed so many lines. He knew this brief moment didn't mean he was forgiven, that it would take months or years to rebuild their trust, but it was a start.
A foot in the door.

And as dawn broke on top of the penthouse, he vowed he'd do anything for his family. He'd fix things between them, no matter how long it took.

He'd fix it, even if it left him broken.