Damian fidgeted through most of dinner, muttering profanities under his breath as he was forced to eat canned food, and sending Grayson a glare every so often just to make sure he knew how much he hated the entire situation. He never realized how much he enjoyed Pennyworth's meals until he was sent to an alternative universe where the only edible food was a can of peaches. If one wanted anything fresh, then they would have to either grow or hunt their own food. Since the circus never stayed in one place for too long, they stocked up on canned foods, or things that wouldn't expire for a long time. Damian was disgusted when he discovered that they even ate things that were expired when they couldn't get their hands on anything else. It was below him to have to stoop down to this level of desperation, and he was more than ready to go back home.

If Grayson was willing to, that was.

A small seed of suspicion was planted in the boy's brain as he watched his brotherly figure interact with his family. Even though the rest of the Graysons were very distant with their unknown family member, Richard was very persistent about getting to know them. Damian had understood his actions at first, but as Grayson continued to make desperate attempts to hold a conversation, a knot began to form in Damian's stomach. What if being in a universe with his dead parents would change his mind about going home? The man had certainly missed the two acrobats, and now that he had siblings on top of that, it was possible that he would never want to leave. If that was the case, then Damian would be stuck there as well, and he couldn't live off of that canned nonsense.

"Grayson, we need to go," he muttered just loud enough for his brother to hear him. The man's eyes flickered over to him and back in the span of a split second, but Damian knew that he was acknowledged.

A few minutes went by without any sign of exit, but Grayson eventually stood up and gave everyone an apologetic smile. "Sorry guys but it's past Dami's bedtime, and I'm sure he wants his bedtime story before he crashes. We'll help pack everything up tomorrow morning, though."

Haley gave him a smile of his own. "That's perfectly fine. In fact, I must argue that you leave the packing to the rest of us! You've done enough for this circus already, we can't ask for anything more."

Grayson was about to open his mouth, probably to argue against not helping out, but Damian intervened. "Great, then we will remain in our train car until departure. Let's go... father," he struggled through the last word, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He just had to give the circus reason to believe that Grayson and he were related by blood. Why couldn't he have said something less shameful, like a brother or a cousin?

Grayson gave him a warning glare. "Be nice, Dami." He stood, and beckoned for the other to do so as well. "We will be helping with packing up. It will do Damian some good to work with a group anyways."

The circus leader chuckled as he agreed to the arrangement, and the two heroes quickly took their leave. Once they were far away from potential eavesdropping, Damian shot Grayson a frustrated glare. "Canned food, Grayson? And idiotic chitchat? I had expected more from the group that raised you."

Grayson glanced his way. "Would you rather starve to death? Be grateful that they gave us anything at all."

"-tt-" they arrived at their train car, and they quickly changed into their hero gear. Grayson, now as Nightwing, carefully kept an eye out for any circus members as they snuck out. Once they were off grounds, it was only a matter of getting back into the city, which was difficult due to their lack of transportation. "We are going to be late, thanks to your pointless socializing." West had informed them that the Resistance would provide them with updates on how the process of getting them back home was going. Their first meeting was tonight, but if they were late, then they would have to wait at least a couple more days for the next.

Nightwing smiled. "Just think of this as a warm up. Instead of running a couple of miles in the Bat Cave, we're sprinting all the way to Gotham. Fun, huh?"

"... West should have provided us with transportation."

"Limited supplies, little bro. There's only so much he can give us."

"Hmph."

xXx

They arrived in Gotham City a little under an hour later, and without a way of time tracking, it was impossible to tell if they were late or not. As Nightwing and Robin grappled from building to building, it quickly became apparent that they had to invest in getting a watch.

"Remember to keep your eyes peeled for any Justice Leaguers. The last thing we want is to be captured by Batman and be stuck playing prisoner until someone from our universe finds out where we are."

Robin nodded absently, eyes trained on the Wayne Tech building they were running toward. "If we wish to remain hidden from father, what is the purpose of meeting on his property?"

"I guess the Resistance doesn't know the identities of the League, or maybe there's a specific reason why we're meeting there." They were only a block away from their destination now, and Nightwing acknowledged this by speeding up. "Remember to not attack whoever it is that shows up. Wally said it will be one of the leaders of the Resistance, but we don't have a description on hand."

Robin nodded and produced his grapple gun. Nightwing did the same, and the two of them were yanked onto the building. They were surprisingly met with the sight of an empty rooftop when they arrived, and there was no sign of another human presence. "We have arrived too late, and now the Resistance has left us," Robin scowled and gave Nightwing an accusing glare. "If you didn't let your emotions get in the way of our task then-"

The older man suddenly stiffened, and two wingdings appeared in each hand. "Come out of the shadows," he growled dangerously, glaring at the darkness surrounding them. "I know you're there."

Startled by the change in attitude, Robin fumbled as he grabbed his own birdarangs, and squinted through the darkness. Spotting nothing peculiar, he gave the older hero a baffled glance. Even if there was someone there, didn't Nightwing specifically say not to be hostile towards anyone who showed? Robin assumed that whoever they were facing was the person they were meant to meet up with in the first place.

There was a dark chuckle from somewhere on his right, and two figures stepped out of the shadows. "I must say I'm surprised you were able to sense my presence. Usually it takes months under my tutelage to accomplish such a feat," the taller one mused.

Robin's eyes widened as he took in the orange and black mask, and the swords attached to the man's back. The majority of his body armor was midnight black, besides his gloves and boots, which were orange as well. Those specific colors either meant Halloween, or a blood thirsty assassin; an enemy of their League. Judging by the fact that it was not October, and the familiar appearance of the man, he was most definitely the latter: Deathstroke. The man next to him was harder to identify. He had dark skin and a muscular build, wearing a red and black uniform with a ragged R painted across his chest. He also had two blades attached to his back, but their size and shape were dissimilar to his partner's. The most distinctive item of his outfit was the black cloth tied around his face, two holes torn into the fabric for his eyes, and tied in a knot at the back of his head like a stereotypical ninja.

West must have sent them to a trap, he thought angrily. Well then they would simply have to take care of their new adversaries and go on from there.

Robin tensed his muscles to spring, but Nightwing beat him to it. A blur of black and blue was all that could be seen as the hero almost literally threw himself at the villain. Robin froze in tracks as his brother and Deathstroke clashed. Arms and legs muddled together as blows were exchanged, and Robin was forced to snap out of his daze as a fist collided with the side of his head. The shorter man who Robin couldn't identify wasted no time in launching another attack, but the young bird was able to jump back to avoid the kick. He scowled and flicked a birdarang towards him, which was easily dodged.

"You must work on your aim," the nameless man said, pulling one of his swords out of its sheath. "And now you will pay for your ignorance."

"My aim is perfect, unlike the back of your head," Robin countered, and right on cue the birdarang came back and slammed into the man's skull. The villain grunted and fell forward, losing his sword in the process. Robin took advantage of this and snatched the blade, holding it up in a defensive position. Though it had been some time since he resorted to using such a weapon, he was positive that he would be able to wield it in order to protect himself.

"This is most unusual," Deathstroke said from a few feet away, and Robin turned to look at him. The assassin and Nightwing were now several feet away from each other, both in their fighting stances, but neither of them attacking. "You fight as though we have battled before- being able to anticipate what moves I will be using, and knowing how to block or counter them. It's almost like you've had plenty of practice against me." There was that dark chuckle again, and it sent shivers down Robin's spine. "I would ask if we've met before, but I already know the answer to that. Though I have not had the pleasure of meeting you in this world, you must have encountered me in your own. Am I correct?"

Nightwing glared. "Unfortunately, yes," he spat. "You and I have met several times where I'm from."

Robin frowned. He did not recall a time where Deathstroke and Grayson have met in battle, so it must have happened before he became Robin. Even so, Damian never saw Nightwing act so coldly towards anyone, not even a maniac like the Joker. This behavior was not something he would have expected from Grayson, and he had to admit that it was slightly terrifying. If Deathstroke could make the nicest of people act in such a way, then Damian could only imagine what the assassin was capable of. And what could he have done to Nightwing to provoke such a response? He was not sure if he wanted to know.

All of a sudden, Robin heard shuffling from behind him, and he barely rolled away to avoid being stabbed in the back. He got back to his feet and had seconds to put his arms up to block a powerful punch. The nameless man glared at him, his gaze promising a painful death for his adversary. Robin returned the look, but it was ineffective as the man dropped down and swept his feet out from under him. The breath was knocked out of his lungs as his back roughly made impact with the ground, and a sword was quickly pointed to his neck.

"Renegade, enough," Deathstroke ordered, and the man paused before retreating. Robin breathed a sigh of relief and jumped up to his feet, watching as the man, Renegade, returned to Deathstroke's side. Nightwing's face had paled considerably in the last minute, and Robin quickly made his way over to his side. Something about Grayson's expression shook him, and he had to make sure he was relatively well.

"Renegade..." Nightwing muttered, looking as though he was going to be sick.

Deathstroke nodded. "Renegade is my protege. We were sent by the Resistance to update you on the issue of returning you to your home universe. I was starting to believe you wouldn't show when you two arrived, which would have been disappointing. I must admit that I was curious when Wallace informed us of your personalities, especially yours, Nightwing." Grayson's hands curled into fists. "It has been quite some time since I have heard of anyone who isn't corrupt in one or another."

Robin narrowed his eyes. "You can't expect for us to believe you are part of the Resistance. You're a villain, not a hero."

"An ex villain who knows how to play the hero." Robin could almost hear the smirk in his voice. "Before I can go through with any of my own plans, the Court of Owls and the Justice League must both be annihilated."

"The Resistance doesn't kill," Robin growled.

"And neither do we, for now. The Resistance is the only chance to bring back how the world was before, and I will sacrifice my blood spilling hobby in order to reach my goal. Once the world is back to the way it was, I can enjoy being an assassin once again."

"You only fight against the Court for your own selfish desires?!"

"Enough," Nightwing said quietly, his tone making Robin's mouth snap shut. "Just tell us what progress you've made." His voice sounded shaky, and Robin spotted sweat near his hairline. Grayson was not tired before, so what was wrong now?

"We have no records of the weapon that you described, but one of the Green Lanterns said that he will look into alien technology while we continue searching on Earth. Otherwise, we have no progress. It may take some time before you are able to return to your home. There is a higher probability of the League from your world finding a way to retrieve you than it is for us to send you back." Deathstroke tilted his head, studying Nightwing carefully with his lone eye. "Perhaps it would be best if you sit down. From what I know, one shouldn't remain standing while having a panic attack."

Robin's eyes widened, and he spun around to fully look at Nightwing. The man's entire frame was shaking, and his breathing was erratic. Damian's mind fruitlessly tried to give him useful information to assist his partner, but he came up with nothing. There was absolutely nothing in his training to prepare him to help anyone having a panic attack! All he knew was how to break bones, drive many vehicles, investigate crimes, interrogate, hack into computers- great, now he was panicking.

Suddenly, he remembered having a conversation with his father about this.

[Flashback]

"Is he okay?" Damian heard as he entered the dining room. His father sat in one of the elegant chairs, cellphone in hand a look of concern on his face. "What triggered it? Oh. No, that is an unusual occurrence. They usually don't have anything to do with them, oddly enough." He turned around and caught sight of Damian. "Thanks for letting me know, Barbara. Can you ask him to call me when he's calm enough? Great. I'll see you next weekend. Bye."

"Why was Gordon contacting you?" Damian asked the moment his father hit the 'end call' button.

A sigh. "Dick had a panic attack not too long ago. Barbara had it under control, but she called me to let me know."

Damian blinked. "Grayson had a panic attack?" He wrinkled his nose. "Of course a weakling like him would-"

A glare silenced him. "Your brother has experienced many horrors in his life. Panicking when he is reminded of those moments do not make him weak, it makes him human."

"Yes, father." He looked down, soaking in this information. If his father did not believe that the attacks were weak, then they must not be. Instead of frowning down at them, he became curious. "What happens to him when he panics?"

"It depends. Usually he hyperventilates and remains agitated for the remainder of the day, but I have seen him completely shut down."

Damian was a little startled by that statement. "Shut down? What do you mean by that?"

"He has had panic attacks so bad that he wouldn't respond to his environment. Several people could try to get his attention, but it's like he's not even there. It's scary," his father admitted, shocking the boy. "He'll just stare out into space, face completely blank and he won't react to anything. I used to be able to snap him out of it when he was younger, but it doesn't work anymore. It's a good thing he hasn't had one that bad in years."

The image of Grayson in a zombie-like state made him uneasy. "What if he has a panic attack while we are on patrol? What do I do?"

"Dick has never had an attack while in costume. He has a technique to keep the panic at bay while he's in the field. I wouldn't worry about that." He noticed Damian's worried frown, and smiled. "But if you and him are alone out of costume, just have him sit down and let him lean on you. If he doesn't calm himself down on his own, then just start talking. Tell him about your day, what's on your mind, how you feel about certain things, whatever you think of. Talking usually helps calm him down; it gives him something to focus on."

Damian nodded slowly. "I will make note of that."

His father stood. "I'm sure you won't have to deal with that anytime soon." He looked at his watch. "Now, why don't we go down to the Cave and start training?"

[End Flashback]

"Grayson, sit down," Robin said quickly, tugging on the sleeve of his costume.

"Need to... I can't..."

"You're not making any sense, Grayson. You are experiencing a panic attack, and the best course of action would be for you to sit down and calm yourself down before attempting anything else." Without waiting for a response, Robin grabbed both of his arms and gently pushed him down. Nightwing obediently sat, and automatically leaned forward to put his head in his hands. Damian sat down besides him and pulled him sideways so that he was just about laying on him.

"...that goddamn costume... hated that thing..." Nightwing muttered to himself.

"It was horrible." Robin agreed, though he had no idea what he was talking about. "Father informed me that I should engage in one-sided conversation in this type of situation, but I am unsure of what to say, so do not tease me after you feel better," he said in his usual indignant voice. He then launched into a tale, rambling about what he did in school, his fondness of his new pet cats, how much he hated Drake, and whatever else came to mind. His eyes stayed glued on Deathstroke and Renegade the entire time, trying to scare them away with a glare, but they didn't seem to get the message. Wasn't it obvious they weren't wanted?!

After a while, Robin was running out of topics, and had began to talk about his fears. His fear of failure, of disappointing his father, of losing his new family members ("yes, you are included in that category as well, Grayson"), and his fear of losing control. He spoke of the nightmares that haunted him at night, generally revolving around the idea of him reverting back to killing, and becoming the monster his mother created him to be. Eventually, his voice became a mere whisper, and he found himself gripping the fabric on Nightwing's arm for comfort. Though nothing else provoked a response from the man, his confessions seemed to snap him out of his state. Robin found himself being pulled into a warm hug, which he returned.

"Thanks Little Wing," Grayson mumbled as he released him. Robin nodded, and helped him return to his feet, pleased to see that most of the color returned to his face. Nightwing stood silent for a second, and then straightened his shoulders, giving Deathstroke a challenging stare.

"You must think that I will hold this against you." Deathstroke shook his head. "I myself have experienced panic attacks before, though I was able to overcome those many years ago. I could teach you, if you'd like."

Grayson flinched. "I don't want you to teach me anything."

"If you say so." A shrug. "I would have left you to overcome your panic in peace, but I still have something to share with you. The Resistance is planning a raid on a Court warehouse in three days, and we wanted to invite you both to join us. We are hoping to get our hands on special equipment they have stored there that we could possibly use to send you back. The only issue is that the warehouse is heavily guarded, and there are three known Talons stationed there. We will need any assistance we can receive."

"Isn't there only one Talon in the Court?"

"Here, there are many Talons. Don't mistake them for pushovers; the Talons are the strongest warriors in the Court. One is difficult enough, but three would be nearly impossible to defeat without equal brutality on our side."

Nightwing nodded slowly. "We will help the Resistance." He narrowed his eyes. "But don't think that means we are allies."

Deathstroke laughed. "There are no such things as allies here, hero." He and Renegade backed towards the edge of the roof. "Until next time..." they jumped into the shadows, disappearing into the night.

Grayson stared at the space they just inhabited, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why is this world so fucked up? Nothing makes sense anymore."

"..." Robin did not know what to say to that, and chose not to comment on it at all. Instead, he came in front of him and studied his face. "Are you able to return to the circus at this time, or do you need more time to rest?"

The older hero gave him a small smile. "I'll make it there okay. Let's go so we can catch a few hours of sleep."

Robin nodded. "I suppose we will be rising early to assist in packing the supplies."

Nightwing blinked, looking mildly surprised. "...Yes."

"Then let's go." He moved to leave, but his brother stepped into his path.

"You asked Bruce what to do if you had to help me with a panic attack, didn't you?" As Robin nodded, a brilliant smile appeared on his face, and he placed both of his hands on the younger's shoulders. "I don't see why you're afraid of becoming a monster, Dami. You're a good kid. I couldn't ask for a better brother." He stepped back. "And I can't speak for Bruce, but I'm proud of you. Don't be too hard on yourself, okay?"

With that, Nightwing spun around and threw himself off of the rooftop, letting out a cheerful cackle as he fired his grappling hook. Robin felt a small smile fight its way onto his face as he followed. Even if he wouldn't admit it, he had certainly grown attached to his pretend father.

xXx

AN: *awkwardly shuffles feet* Um, surprise? I'm still continuing this? This fic isn't dead? I know I suck at updating this particular story, but I swear that I will finish it! Don't lose faith!

Reminder: I am an evil author. Because of this, you can expect many feels in this story, or any of my stories for that matter. Sorry! (I'm not sorry, not one bit xD)