A/N: Is this the start of a regular update schedule for this story? I want to say yes, but knowing that I've only got a few weeks before life picks up again makes me doubtful. Still, I'm doing my best to get quicker updates out for you guys, because I'm very excited for what's to come and can't wait to share it with you. Hope you like this chapter and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics.

"You know, from up here Gotham doesn't seem so bad," Dick said, tilting forwards to look at the rooftops and streets far below. They looked like nothing more than a maze, the streets more narrow, cars moving like ants in single file lines. Having a perspective from above was nothing new to Dick. He'd spent most of his life from this angle, to the point where being in the air was comforting. But he always did like it a little better than having his feet planted on the ground.

"If you think that, then you are a greater idiot than I suspected," Damian replied, gazing down at Gotham with a distasteful glare. "This city is nothing more than a cesspool of crime and death."

Dick rose an eyebrow. "You're feeling awfully optimistic."

The pair had been patrolling for a couple hours, and when they stumbled upon nothing more than petty crime, Dick suggested that the two of them take a break. They'd settled themselves among a pair of Gotham's gargoyle statues, giving them a decent view of the city. Dick sat on top of one of them, feet dangling in the air. Wedged between the roof and another statue, Damian sat with his arms crossed and feet propped up against the gargoyle where Dick perched.

A few nights had passed since the events at the docks, leaving an impression on everyone. Dick's solution was to try and shake the feeling and get out from Bruce's scrutinizing of every small piece of information they had. He knew he should be the pillar of support for his old mentor, but always having to be the stable one became exhausting. He needed a break, even if it only came through vigilante work. When he suggested Damian come along to get relief from the tension as well, the boy moved so hastily that he practically materialized out of the cave.

It had been a long time since Dick had fought by anyone's side as a partner. He'd been a leader to the Titans, prepared for that sort of responsibility and pressure. But he was not used to being in charge of a duo-of playing Batman to a Robin. While he knew it should be Bruce fulfilling that role, Dick had to admit that he didn't mind stepping in. Truthfully, he enjoyed it.

"If you think this is bad, you should see Bludhaven," Dick said, knowing that his city was ten times worse. Secretly it had been a weight off of his shoulders to get out of there for a while. At least in Gotham he felt as though he was making a difference, whereas in Bludhaven he sometimes wondered if it even mattered to try.

Damian scoffed, replying coldly, "Pass."

Now that attitude raised Dick's suspicions. Most people who knew Damian would pass it off as nothing more than his personality, but Dick sensed it was more than that. This was not his usual snark. The agitation in him was stronger than ever, not to mention that on another occasion the invitation to go to a place filled with the chance of fighting would send Damian rushing towards Bludhaven at breakneck speed. Dick adjusted on the gargoyle, turning so that he was facing the boy. "Alright, time to come clean. What's bothering you?"

Figuring Damian out wasn't as hard as Bruce made it out to be. At least, not for Dick. It had taken time of course, time to get to know Damian and understand where he was coming from. Despite all of the parts that made him different, when it came down to it, Damian was still a kid. Once Dick came to that conclusion, things between the two of them smoothed out quickly.

"My father hates me," Damian glowered, bringing his knees closer as he sunk further against the statue, sulking.

That wasn't what Dick was hoping to hear, but he wasn't surprised that Damian said it. With the way Bruce had treated him, it was obvious why the boy thought that. Bruce hadn't exactly proven otherwise, and even though Dick knew he'd been trying recently, that didn't make everything that had gone wrong disappear. And even when Bruce did better, he still made mistakes and backtracked. Dick knew that from experience.

"He doesn't hate you," Dick said, taking a deep breath. Just because he hadn't wanted to have this conversation didn't mean he wouldn't. It may be hard to explain, but he wasn't about to let Damian go on believing that his own father didn't care. "Bruce has never been good at handling emotions. He always struggled with it."

"I don't need emotion," Damian grumbled. "I want respect."

That wasn't true and Dick definitely could have called him out on that. Damian needed emotion more than Dick ever did. He needed to see that he mattered. That wasn't something that the boy was going to admit-it didn't fit in with his assassin training. Dick let it go, giving a humorless laugh. "He's not good with that either. Bruce thinks he's the only one that can figure out a problem, the only one that knows what he's doing. I guess making people angry is a habit that he can't break."

Dick shifted, looking out at the city. "And when it comes to kids, he doesn't always know what he's doing. He just pretends he knows what's best. There have been plenty of times when he hasn't acted in the best way."

"You mean the time when he kicked you out?" Damian continued staring below, speaking as though he was simply reading from a list. "Or when his second partner died?"

At that Dick froze, body tensing at the remark. It took a second to process, and then his gaze snapped to Damian. "You know about that?"

"My mother told me the Joker killed him. She said that Father never forgave himself for it," Damian replied, glancing at Dick. "Did you think I came here without knowing everything about my father's past?"

"I guess not," Dick answered, the surprise slowly rolling off of him. So he wouldn't have to break the news about that part of Bruce's life after all. It was a burden he was glad to release, even if he still might have to talk to Damian about it in more detail at some point. "You can see why Tim's disappearance was a huge deal to him, then."

Damian bristled at the name, the dark aura surrounding him intensifying. "Still largely important to him, unfortunately."

So this had to do with Tim, too. It was clear that Damian was not the biggest fan of the teen, and even though Dick fully understood the gravity of the situation, he saw where Damian was coming from. Tim had taken up all his father's attention, and in a way still continued to occupy Bruce's thoughts. It was a competition that Damian felt he was failing, when really there shouldn't have been any competition at all.

That was not something that Dick could fix, however, and so he focused on redirecting the conversation back to his earlier point. "When I quit being Robin, Bruce and I had a bad falling out. We were at odds with each other for a long time, said things that you should never say to anyone. It took us a while to get past that."

Dick glanced up at the dark sky, as if recalling all the hurtful things they'd ever said. He knew that even though Bruce carried blame, he'd also made mistakes. No one was completely at fault. "Sometimes we still fight. But now we're on much better terms. He'll come around, but you've got to be open to his attempts, no matter how meager they might look."

The advice didn't sway Damian much. If anything the boy looked exasperated, letting out an annoyed huff. "Sure. He gets a thousand chances it seems."

That wasn't inaccurate. But that was what it meant when it came to family. As much as Dick fought with Bruce, he'd always be there for the man that had been his father figure for so long. Dick had to remind himself that nobody was perfect, and Bruce was far from it when it came to the family aspect. But for as much that happened to them, they found their way back somehow. He had to believe that it would be the same for Damian.

"I know this hasn't been easy for you," Dick said, looking to the boy, "but I'm glad you came to Gotham, Damian."

Surprise broke across Damian's face, the boy lifting his head and looking at Dick with an expression close to bewildered. It dawned on Dick that probably no one had ever said something like that to him before, considering how off guard it caught him. The boy stared at Dick, unable to gather something to say for a long moment. Then he slowly recovered, saying simply, "I came for my father. Not for you."

He paused, his voice softening as he looked away. "Thank you, Grayson."

For the first time in a while, Dick smiled. There, that was what he knew was underneath Damian's hard exterior. Getting him to show it was a challenge, but Dick knew he'd made progress and that was worth being happy about. He stood up, balancing with ease on top of the gargoyle and looked down below. "What do you say? Ready to get back to work?"

"If we can even find anything worth the effort," Damian said as he maneuvered himself upwards. "The Red Hood is making it difficult."

"He's starting to put us out of business in some ways," Dick agreed. "But he can't stop crime completely. There is always something out there for us to do."

"If you believe that, then lead the way," Damian replied.

Dick grinned, and with no hesitation he launched from the gargoyle, Damian leaping after him.

Reconnaissance meant two things: work that was not only easy, but efficient. Tim and Jason had plenty to keep their eyes on as their grip on Gotham grew tighter by the day. Because of that, they had to watch over their new assets and make certain that everyone fell into line. If not, the Red Hood would have no choice but to pay a visit. And that was always messy business.

Tim established a map of their biggest concerns, pinpointing the locations where they needed to check and see that the grunts weren't second guessing their decision. Once that was complete, they worked out a schedule of when to check on these individual groups. While the criminals were shifty about seeing the Red Hood, who they knew better, not many knew of Tim's involvement. It made it easier for him to slip inside and take a look at what was going on-and lay a few cameras and microphones, of course.

When they'd worked out the details of that night in particular, Tim said he'd need forty-five minutes to complete his task, while Jason handled his own reconnaissance.

It took him only twenty.

He hadn't overestimated by any means. Five minutes to get into the warehouse, ten minutes to check that everything was in order and put his equipment into place, and five to get out without anyone noticing he'd ever been there in the first place. He stepped out of the warehouse at exactly twenty minutes, undetected by any of the thugs loitering inside.

It would take him twenty-five minutes to go about his second, personal task.

The alleyway where he was to meet with Jason wasn't far, and Tim made his way in that direction, moving quickly. As he came to the destination, however, he made a slight detour. It wouldn't take him too long, and if anything did go wrong he'd only be a few minutes late. But Tim had calculated the chances, and as long as the math was right, his plan would go smoothly. As he approached the building from the back he couldn't help the flare of amusement that sparked within him.

There was something funny about breaking into the GCPD Headquarters.

Tim easily picked the lock on the back door, disabling the security in thirty seconds. This late at night the detectives had all gone home, the offices empty. The only staff left were the guards and police who weren't out keeping an eye on the city. There weren't many, which meant he'd have an easier time going unnoticed. Tim entered into the building, moving swiftly and quietly through the halls.

Footsteps echoed against the tile and Tim pressed his back against the wall, peering around the corner. An officer walked by, reading a report and keeping his head down, oblivious to his surroundings. Tim waited for him to pass and then stepped into the intersection of halls, checking his surroundings once more before slipping down and to a door at the far end. He crouched by it and unlocked the door, then stepped inside and closed it behind him.

The evidence archives were large, much larger than some cities. In a place where crime happened on a daily basis, keeping records was a priority for the GCPD. Tim moved over to one of the long cabinets and followed the alphabetical list until he reached the name he was looking for. Carefully he drew out the file and laid it off to the side. He knew all the details. What he needed was more than a few pieces of paper.

Tim reached in once more and pulled out a case, flipping the latches up to open it. Inside rested a weapon that made Tim's stomach knot, his insides twisting. Carefully he took it into his hands, keeping the plastic labelled bag over it. He didn't want to touch it fully; not yet. Neither would he waste time gazing at it and letting the emotion of it distract him.

Tim opened his jacket and stuck the weapon inside, zipping it up once more. He returned everything to its proper place, dusted away any lingering finger prints. When he was finished he glanced out the window of the door, and when he saw no one Tim slipped out and retraced his steps back to where he'd come in. He stepped out into the night, the door closing with a soft click as the lock set in again, and Tim checked the time.

Twenty-five minutes exactly.

Not bad at all. Tim shifted his jacket, making sure it fit comfortably, and then shoved his hands into his pockets and headed away from the building. As he did so Jason's voice came in through the comm, and Tim reached a hand up and touched the device in his ear. "Get out okay?"

"Made it through without a hitch," Tim said, walking slowly. "I'm headed to our meet up point now. How'd everything go for you?"

"Everything was up to standard. They're smarter than they look," Jason answered. "I'll be at the location in about ten minutes."

"I'll meet you there," Tim agreed, dropping his hand. He'd take a different path to stretch out his trek, taking streets to lengthen his route. By the time he got there Jason would be waiting, none the wiser. It wasn't that this was payback or that he got a thrill out of keeping Jason in the dark. No, he had no ill intentions, no wish to hurt Jason by keeping him out of the loop.

For now, it was just the way it needed to be.