A/N: Thank you everyone for your thoughts on the last chapter, and this story in general! It's been lovely to know what you think of this so far. With this chapter, we're halfway through the story. I'm not sure how many chapters this will be in total, but I can tell you there is plenty to explore before the story ends.
I hope you enjoy this chapter. Let me know what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.
The Batmobile's engine shattered the silence of the cave as it roared through. Bruce didn't bother to slow down, pressing into the gas pedal until he had no choice but to slam his foot against the brake. The vehicle's tires screeched in protest as they whirled, the car abruptly stopping in its designated spot. Bruce gripped the steering wheel so tight he thought he might tear it off, but he released his hold and leapt from the car and onto the cave floor, crossing to the computer without a word.
Behind him came the sound of Nightwing's bike entering the cave, stopping in its own place. Bruce didn't bother to turn to see him, or Damian riding on the back. In fact, Bruce thought it better to keep his eyes off the young boy. If he looked, he knew his anger would win out, and Bruce didn't have the best control at the moment.
When the smoke in Crime Alley cleared, Tim and the Red Hood were gone. Bruce and Dick had searched the area, looking for signs of either of them, or tales that indicated where they'd gone. But there were no tracks, no trail to follow. When Dick had returned to the alley and told him that he'd also came up empty handed, Bruce said nothing. He clenched his jaw, returned to the Batmobile, and headed back to the cave in furious silence.
The ride back to the cave had not cleared his head. It had only set him further on the path of fury. His fingers tapped the keys on the computer anxiously, as if they were searching for answers. Bruce knew he could check every feed he had in Gotham, every source that he had, and they wouldn't show where Tim had gone. He'd been out of reach for so long, and there was no way he could trace the teen when the only connection was to the Red Hood, whose leads were about as cold as ice.
Behind him, Bruce heard soft, hesitant footsteps. They were light, and the sound they created was wholly familiar in those shoes. Bruce would know, considering all his Robins had worn shoes with the same soles. Part of him, the reasonable part, hoped Damian would not come near him, not when he was as this on edge.
"Father...I-" Damian started, his voice quieter than Bruce had ever heard it. But it was his voice that snapped his patience in half, the seething wrath he felt coming over him full force.
"I told you to stay here," Bruce said, cutting Damian off as he turned from the computer and looked to his son. Damian stood there, mask in hand, looking to him shamefully. It didn't help. "Instead you followed and the whole situation spiralled out of control."
Whatever split second of humility that Damian had acquired evaporated instantly. His signature glare slipped back onto his features, the scowl that was ever present in Bruce's mind. "I was the one that gave you that lead! Without me you wouldn't have even found Drake in the first place. I did everything that you couldn't!"
"If you hadn't come, we'd have the Red Hood in custody and Tim back here," Bruce shot back, his voice rising. "But because you didn't follow orders, we lost them both."
"This is Drake's fault," Damian yelled, throwing the mask onto the floor in frustration and pointing an accusing finger at Bruce. "If you didn't have such a useless partner, none of this would be happening! Drake has caused nothing but problems!"
"Alright, enough," Dick said suddenly, stepping up behind Damian and clamping a hand on his shoulder. He looked to Bruce sternly, and Bruce stopped himself from saying anything more. This was the voice that Dick used with his own teammates, back when he ran the Titans. The voice that commanded everyone listen to him, the one that said he was stopping everything before it went out of hand.
Even Damian, who had never heard the tone before, went quiet. Dick bent down and picked up the mask from the floor, handing it back to the boy. When he spoke, his voice was softer-sympathetic, but still commanding. "Go get changed, Damian."
The boy looked back at Bruce, scowling, but there was something else in his eyes that Bruce couldn't decipher. Damian turned his face away, giving a simple, "Tt."
He batted Dick's hand away and slunk off towards the back of the cave. Both adults watched him go, and when he was finally out of sight, Dick turned to face Bruce, his expression set. It had been a long time since him and Dick had fought. Bruce had made an effort so that they never had a huge blowout like they had when Dick had moved onto being Nightwing. He hadn't wanted to go through that again, make those same mistakes again. But right now, Bruce felt like they were standing on the precipice of a fight. And Dick looked ready for it-reluctant, but braced for impact.
"I get it, you're angry," Dick started. "But you need to take a step back. Screaming at him isn't going to solve anything."
"He just cost us the entire night with his disobedience," Bruce answered, hands clenching the chair by the computer, needing something to dig into before the need to hit something grew too strong.
"He's ten. No kid his age is going to listen that easily. Besides, it isn't like he's been emotionally fulfilled lately with his father ignoring his existence." Dick shot him a pointed look, the kind that told Bruce he expected better and was thoroughly disappointed. Bruce hated letting Dick down-he'd done it enough times that he was more aware of it. But right now, it didn't affect him the way it normally would. He was far too angry to worry about Dick's approval of him as a parent.
"I couldn't turn all my focus to him when Tim was missing," Bruce argued. "He's known that. He knew that if we could get Tim back, things would change."
"I'm not saying what he did was right," Dick said. "He tried to help and it backfired. But he wouldn't have felt the need to do it if you'd have given him more than five minutes of your attention. Can't you see that all he wants is to know his father?"
Silence followed, Bruce standing there with his jaw clenched. When he said nothing, Dick sighed. "No, I guess you don't. Tim isn't the only one that's needed you lately."
He hated when Dick pointed out to him what should be obvious. Bruce had tried hard with Tim to do what was right, to not make the mistakes that he'd been known to make in the past. But he once again fell short, missing the obvious signs when he was too focused on something else. He didn't know how to juggle two sons that needed him-especially when he feared that Tim hadn't needed him in the first place. This whole time, Bruce might have been neglecting Damian's needs, and Tim may have been fine. If he considered that, Bruce's inner guilt threatened to swallow him whole.
"We're worse off than we were at the beginning," Bruce replied, turning away from Dick and back towards the computer. He couldn't look at his eldest son any longer. How was it that Dick could always pick up where he fell flat, and know everything better than him? It was backwards, when he was the father and Dick, Tim, and Damian his sons. The sons, at least, that he had not permanently failed.
He heard Dick take a deep breath, and probably mentally count to ten, before he said, "Look, we know that Tim is alive, and isn't be held hostage. He didn't want to be found for whatever reason. And I doubt he's going to want to be found right now, either. Our problem now is that he doesn't trust us."
"We aren't going to earn it back by sitting here and doing nothing."
"When Tim wants us to find him, he'll make himself known," Dick answered firmly. "All we can do now is wait.
Bruce looked over his shoulder and saw Dick run a hand through his hair. There were lines around his eyes, the blue irises missing the spark they usually had. The whole situation was finally taking its toll on him. "And I know you don't like that. I don't either. But if we couldn't find him before, we aren't going to find him this time."
"I won't give up on him."
"I think everyone needs to take a step back and calm down," Dick answered, frowning. "That didn't exactly look good on anyone, Bruce. We can explain what's going on when he comes to us. Tim is smart, he'll know this can't be right. In the meantime, you should give Damian a chance."
Silence again, and Dick understood that Bruce wouldn't just let this go. His son was still out there, in the hands of an enemy. Maybe it was voluntary, but it still wasn't right. Tim belonged here, at the cave. Dick let the quiet go on for a few moments more, and then said with a sigh, "Fine, if you won't give Damian a shot, then I will. Maybe spend less time agonizing over Tim, and more time trying to figure out the Red Hood. I don't know what he's after, but Tim was sure that he isn't what we assume."
A gruff sound was all Bruce gave in response to that, sitting himself down in the computer chair. The Red Hood was the only lead they had. Find him, and they'd find Tim. It seemed like a simple solution, but the Red Hood proved that he wasn't a foolish criminal. Considering how long it had taken to get a lead for this night, there was no telling how long it would be until they could get another.
Dick stood there a few moments more, and Bruce turned his head enough to look at him more clearly. Dick;s tiredness now resembled more of exasperation, and he turned to walk away. Then he paused for a moment and looked back over his shoulder. "You've got more than one son, Bruce. And you should worry about losing all of them."
He walked away towards the back of the cave without another word, footsteps fading. Bruce slowly moved to face the computer again, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on the keyboard. He did not move to check the feeds or get to work. Instead he sat in the quiet, the bats above him making the only sounds, pondering the issue of his sons, and just how much he'd failed them again.
Jason leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, and sighed deeply. It was late, time ticking into the early hours of the morning. But Jason was wide awake, having finished cleaning up the wreckage from earlier. He looked around the doorframe and into the dark room, letting his eyes adjust to the absence of light. Tim slept, curled in the bed, clutching the blankets like a lifeline. It had taken some coaxing to get him there, and he hadn't responded with words to anything Jason said. But he'd managed to get Tim to go to sleep and block out the world for a while.
Usually people looked at peace when they slept, but Tim looked pained even unconscious. Jason wondered if he was dreaming, and hoped, for Tim's sake, that he slept in blackness. It was better than reliving the night's events over once more. Jason reached out and grabbed the doorknob, quietly pulling the door shut. Then he made his way over to the couch and dropped onto it, his head tipping back to stare at the ceiling.
The night went far from how he'd expected. He figured there had been two directions it could have gone: either him coming clean to Bruce, or them ending up on opposing sides. He didn't think it would end with both Tim and him having their worlds shaken yet again. It threw Jason off, but now that things had somewhat set in, he had to make a plan for both of them.
He tapped his fingers lightly against the couch, mulling over what their next move should be. His first thought was to head out of Gotham and to a different city. Possibly back to Bludhaven, but their presence there had already been established. It would be easier to be found there. Another options was to head to one that Batman wouldn't think to check. Or, they could just stay in Gotham.
The more he thought about it, the less inclined Jason was to leave. So Batman knew they were here. He hadn't yet found them, and Jason knew he wouldn't that simply. He'd made a point to create safehouses and other protocol in order to avoid coming up on the Bat's radar, unless that was what he wanted. So why run?
Jason had always wanted to dig his hands into Gotham's underground. Bludhaven was a start, an experiment, but that was a city past saving. Here, Jason could make some actual progress. He hadn't ever imagined that Tim would be here with him, but that was the thing about plans: they could be altered. And he'd rather have Tim here than throwing the kid out on the streets to grieve by himself. Jason had been there, done that. He wouldn't let that happen to someone else. This wasn't just about his life-this was about Tim too. Whatever mess they found themselves in now, they were in it together.
But this was more of an opportunity than anything, a chance to make a true difference. Jason lifted his head and looked to the window, out into the darkness of the city. Gotham didn't belong to Batman anymore.
It belonged to them.