Author's Note:Spoilers for… err… Lord of the Rings here in case anyone's been living under a rock ^^;; And in case anyone thinks Damian is too young, my grandfather read it to me when I was 7. I'm struggling a little with the logistics of writing a story across two cities so many thanks to WorldsGreatestDefective and my awesome bff/roommate who let me bounce scenarios off of them. This chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but I had to cover this part in order to get to the juicer stuff. Enjoy and please review!

"Again?" Jason made a face in the general direction of the front door that had just closed behind his father. "Really?"

He trot back to the living room and dejectedly plopped on the couch with an exaggerated sigh. Tim, who was clearly supposed to ask, didn't even bother looking up from his book. The middle of the three still in the manor seemed to be taking Bruce's frequent trips to the Metropolis office completely in stride, but then Jason supposed there was no real change to his routine as a result of it. He still had his school work and civilian friends. Jason, on the other hand…

"How is Red Robin supposed to get any field time if Batman is MIA every other week?" he complained and looked at Tim. "He let you go out by yourself, right, kid?"

"Not so much 'let me' as…" the teen searched for the right words, "not explicitly forbid me. Sometimes. But then I didn't… err…"

"Die?" Jason supplied to put him out of his misery. "How long is he going to hold that against me?"

"He's your dad, so probably for… ever."

"You are of no help. Absolutely none."

"Sorry," Tim said, not looking at all remorseful. "Maybe he has a girlfriend in Metropolis or something."

"That's hilarious."

The teen just shrugged and went back to his book.

Okay, so Jason knew he was acting no different from a seven-year-old at a first sleepover when separation anxiety kicks in. Damian wasn't having any issues - at least none that he could see - with their father's brief but frequent trips out of town, but something about them just didn't sit well with Jason.

He almost put it out of his mind an hour later when Damian came downstairs, and the three of them set up for the second half of their long-awaited Lord of the Rings marathon. Jason had refused to watch them with his youngest brother until he finished the books, and Tim insisted on the extended editions which turned the marathon from one day into two because neither Jason nor Damian had the attention span needed for a 12 plus hour long stretch.

As he remembered with the books, the second part was better than the first, encompassing both the battles of Helm's Deep and Pelennor Fields. Tim, who was probably seeing the movies for the tenth time, was only half paying attention, but Damian was thoroughly impressed even if he had some trouble understanding why the characters didn't use the ring or at least entrust it with someone more powerful.

"They should have given it to Aragorn," he argued for his favorite character.

"He's just a man," Tim explained. "Remember what happened to Boromir in the first movie?"

"But he wasn't the king," Damian objected.

"That's not the point."

From there the conversation descended into concepts about good and evil and willpower that Jason wasn't at all sure his nine-year-old brother fully grasped. To divert it in a less complicated direction, he interjected.

"Forget about the ring. Aragorn isn't even the biggest badass in the movie," he declared. Both of his brothers turned to him, and he pointed at the screen where Eowyn had just hacked through the neck of the giant wyrm and stabbed the Witch King. The Nazgul promptly imploded. "See? Badass."

Damian looked appalled. "But she's a girl!"

So much for less complicated… Jason felt his face twitch. "Mom's a girl."

Too late he realized he'd used the present tense. A glance at Tim told him that the teen had definitely noticed the slip, but Damian just frowned deeply. The lack of any outright fury or shock told Jason he'd missed it. He cleared his throat.

"Babs is a girl too, and Dr. Thompkins, and trust me, they're both way cooler than the three of us combined."

Not knowing either of the two women very well, Damian didn't look at all convinced. Jason looked at Tim pleadingly. The teen gave him the universal I-got-this nod, though a moment later he almost wished he hadn't turned to him.

"Jason likes Eowyn because she disobeyed orders, went off to battle, and - almost - get herself heroically killed," Tim told the boy with a completely straight face, much to Jason's dismay. "Besides, we all know who's really the heaviest hitter in the series."

"Who?" Damian asked suspiciously.

"Gandalf. Duh."

All three could agree on that, and Jason felt sufficiently distracted, but later in the night when the house was quiet and his brothers asleep, thoughts of patrol and his father's absence crept up again. His sleeping schedule thoroughly thrown off by Red Robin - Jason usually slept late into the mornings - he was wide awake through the night. Less than an hour into his insomnia, having found nothing to do, Jason went down to the cave.

He was categorically forbidden from being in the field without Batman, but technically there were no restrictions on wearing his uniform, and Jason figured if he kept off the streets and away from any potential conflicts, he wasn't breaking any rules, just bending them. His destination was in the heart of the city, and he landed soundlessly on the ledge of the clocktower. At least he thought it was soundless.

Oracle opened the window for him.

"Again?" she asked.

"Funny. That's what I said earlier." He climbed in and took off his domino mask.

If anyone could be counted on to be awake in the late hours, it was Barbara. Ever watchful, Oracle kept a close eye and ear on everything that went on in Gotham, particularly the patrols of her fellow Birds of Prey. Huntress and Black Canary were both in the field in Batman's absence, and though Red Robin was benched, there was no harm visiting.

"Is it Metropolis again?" she asked while he made himself comfortable in one of the rolling chairs.

"Second time this months." Jason grimaced, idly brushing dust off of the computer console.

Barbara adjusted her glasses. "Wayne Enterprises has a major office in Metropolis. I get why he'd have to go."

"Every other week?"

She seemed to consider it. "Maybe he has a girlfriend."

"Oh, not you too!"

She laughed, and it was a nice sound. He hadn't seen Barbara nearly often enough since his return and when he did, Jason noted how rarely she smiled. His eyes drifted to the chair, and he quickly looked away. Everyone assured him that she was fine, but as a fellow victim of the Joker, Jason knew better. It ate at him that someone he looked up to, considered family, a big sister of sorts, was still in so much pain.

The eye roll she gave him over her spectacles was certainly big-sister-worthy. "You know your father's an adult, right? How do you think you ended up with Damian?"

"Immaculate conception," he replied flatly. "You can't convince me otherwise."

The red-head chuckled, and they fell into a comfortable silence while she checked the scanners and police radio bands. Jason got up and made a circle around the clock tower. His eyes wandered until they fell on a stuffed doll on the computer console next to where Barbara was working. He leaned in to study it closer and realized with a shock that he was looking at Nightwing. Barbara must have seen him looking at it.

"He has one too," she said wryly. "A Batgirl one, I mean."

"Cute." Jason picked up the toy, then tossed it back down. "Babs, can I ask a very awkward, very personal question?" She waited for him expectantly, and he took it as a yes. "Why didn't you two ever get married? I know he asked."

She sighed, rolled the chair to face him, and he almost wished he hadn't asked. Barbara looked clearly pained, but then he'd seen that same look on his older brother's face whenever conversation drifted even close to that direction. And yes, Jason knew it was none of his business, but he wanted them both to be happy. They more than deserved it.

Barbara took a deep breath and removed her glasse, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's complicated."

"He loves you."

"I know."

"I'm pretty sure you love him, too."

"I do."

"So? What's complicated about that?"

"Jason… sometimes love isn't enough."

"It should be." He knew once again how childish that sounded but couldn't help it.

"But it isn't," Barbara's voice was calm and resigned, but also sad. "Look at Bruce and Talia. You think they didn't love each other?"

Uncomfortable with the topic, Jason just nodded. He knew they did. Or at least his father loved her because he got the same look that sometimes crossed Dick's face when they spoke about Barbara was on his father's whenever the topic of Talia came up. How she felt about Bruce, Jason didn't know. Talia was an extremely private person, and Jason didn't feel it was his place to ask.

Then the implication of Barbara's words caught up with him.

"You know she's alive." It wasn't a question.

"I am Oracle," she said like that answered everything. "Oracle is all-seeing, all-knowing. I make it my business to keep track of all the major players on the board. Ra's al Ghul's daughter and the mother of Batman's sons is pretty high on that list."

"Thanks." It didn't escape his notice that she used the plural. "So she's okay? Do you know where she is?"

"I don't know where she is," Barbara shook her head. "Other than the fact that she's alive and laying low, I don't have much info. Not for lack of trying, trust me."

"What happened to all-seeing, all-knowing?"

"That's as far as Bruce will let me get. When you confirmed she was alive, he came to me and explicitly told me not to track her."

"I can't imagine that would stop you." Jason smirked.

"I don't snoop in Batman's personal matters," Barbara said pragmatically. Jason crossed his arms. "Not unless I think there's a threat. I may have tried recently - once - and I didn't get far. I'm not one hundred percent sure, but I don't think she's the only one covering her own tracks. One guess who might be helping."

"The guy who strikes fear into Gotham's underworld, but is better known to me as 'Dad'."

It made a lot of sense. Talia was good at hiding, but if Jason could find her in Los Angeles, Ra's and Bruce could certainly do the same. Perhaps it was after Los Angeles that his father decided to help her. Jason wondered if she knew about it. Something told him Talia wouldn't appreciate the interference.

"Okay," leaned back in the chair and pushed against the floor to make a single circle. "That's more talk about my folks than I'm comfortable with. What's new with the Birds?"

Jason returned to the manor a few hours before dawn and having nothing better to do, went to to his father's study to raid his library and see if there was anything he could occupy himself with until he felt tired enough to go to sleep. Leaning back, Jason was suddenly distracted from the books when his fingers slid across something slick and slippery on the hardwood surface of the table. Frowning, he swiped two fingers across the surface, rubbed them together, and studied them.

Wood polish? But he quickly dismissed the idea when he saw a similar shimmering tinge on his father's gloves that had been discarded on the table. It had been getting cooler lately so Bruce had taken to wearing them out. Jason brought his fingers to his nose and cautiously sniffed at the substance.

The scent was subtle - sandalwood, with a hint of something like roses - but the memories that hit him felt like a hurricane force. Suddenly in his mind's eye he was back in the house in eastern Europe. He wasn't consciously aware, but Jason felt the ghost of the sensation of another hand holding his. Soft, feminine, and anointed with the same scented oils.

If Jason could see himself, he was sure his eyes were like china saucers.

Tim and Babs had been right. Holy. Fucking. Shit!

He was out the office and in his room in seconds. A duffle bag was packed less than five minutes later, and he slowed down only long enough to poke his head in Tim's room. The teen was asleep, but at least someone should know what he was up to. Jason crept quietly forward and gently shook his shoulder.

"Timmy, wake up." The teen just groaned, so Jason tried again. "I'm going to Metropolis."

This time the groan was much more annoyed, followed by a slurred. "How..."

"The usual way: an airplane."

"Why?"

"I need to talk to Dad. It's important."

Tim made a face but this time bothered to roll over. His eyes opened just enough to squint at him. "You know how much people hate it when you do this…"

Jason smirked. "Are you going to punch me?"

"Too tired to punch you. Sleeping."

"That's fine. I'm just telling you so you'll tell Al and Damian in the morning. I'll call when I land." Tim buried his face into the pillow with an obvious sound of disgust. "I'm not running away. Just going to see Dad."

"Good. He can kick your ass for all of us."

Tim turned back towards the wall and promptly went back to sleep.