Author's Note: Kind of a slightly shorter chapter, but there will be so much happening in the next few I didn't want to start it now and have everything piecewise. Also I love Dick to pieces. He'll be instrumental in the rest of this story, so please don't be too mad at him after this part ^^;; Enjoy and please review!

Tim wasn't stupid.

Actually he was kind of a genius, and it didn't even take a genius to know that if he came to Bruce with something as outrageously impossible as the theory that was now floating in his head, it better be solid. A bullet, bomb, and Kryptonian-proof kind of solid, otherwise he could say good-bye to his Robin career. So at first he didn't say anything, but he did go to visit Jason.

By all indications, the grave remained completely undisturbed. Tim walked around it several times before assuring himself that he wasn't missing anything obvious. When he was done with that, he started to look at other things, searching his memory for all the times he'd been at the site. Had it ever looked different?

Yes.

The grave had always stood out as Bruce spared no expense for the beautiful headstone for his foster son but even more so now. The wildflowers that peppered the rest of the cemetery were mostly yellow. Tim remembered thinking they glowed. He also remembered wondering why the ones around Jason's grave were red.

Because it had been disturbed, he concluded with a rush, and then refilled. Different soil. Different flowers. Did Ra's take Jason's body and then try to cover his tracks? Or was it just that workers had found the open grave and filled it back up in a panic, not wanting anyone to think that they'd let grave-robbery happen on their watch? Tim neither knew nor cared. The 'how' could wait. However it had happened, Jason was out there somewhere, alive and with Ra's in pursuit.

It was so... huge!

Not so much running as bouncing back to the manor, Tim suddenly stopped at the door. What was he going to tell Bruce? He was absolutely sure of his suspicions, but all of the clues felt like they could be dismissed as coincidences no matter how logically he presented his case. When it came to Jason, Bruce's just couldn't think clearly.

He'd need help convincing him, which meant he had to convince someone else first.

"I thought Bruce was still with the JLA." Dick said as he let him in through the skylight.

"He is," Tim panted. He'd made it to Bludhaven in record time. "I have to talk to you."

The man was immediately on alert. "What happened?"

Unable to hold it in anymore, the teen blurted out. "Jason's alive!"

Dick's eyes went wide and he sat down heavily. "Tim..."

"I'm serious!" he insisted. "Listen..."

So he told him. He laid out everything he'd found, everything he suspected. Dick listened for a long time, not saying anything, his face growing sad but also hard. With no small amount of desperation, Tim could tell: he didn't believe him. When he was done, Dick sighed.

"Tim," he started gently. "I know you want to believe..."

"It's true!" the teen insisted. "Don't you think I know how crazy it sounds? I wouldn't have said anything unless I was sure."

"It's impossible," the man chided, almost immediately wincing as he must have realized he'd just given the teen more ammunition for his theory. Not one to disappoint, Tim jumped on it.

"Like no one we know's come back to life before! Look at Superman!"

"Jason wasn't Superman," Dick shook his head, "no matter what he thought. He was just a kid... a great kid, but still just a kid who let his temper get him in way over his head."

"But I heard him!"

"You thought you did. Can you really remember every voice you heard years ago?"

Tim's face hardened. "I remember Robin's voice."

He didn't have to think twice about applying the identity to Jason. It wasn't that Tim suddenly stopped thinking of himself as the boy wonder. It was just that his mind easily accepted all Robins, past and present. He could still see the yellow, red, and green suit on Dick, and he had been Nightwing for years now. The man in question shook his head again and rose. When he spoke, there was a finality in his voice that made Tim's heart sink.

"I can't stop you from believing what you do," he said, "but I ask you to please not to bring this up in front of Bruce. If you give him this kind of false hope..."

"It's not false!" Dick held up his hand to silence him.

"...if you bring this up, and it doesn't turn out to be exactly as you say... He puts on one hell of a brave act, but loosing Jason nearly killed him. He won't survive it again, Tim. So, please: if you respect him as much as I know you do, don't bring this up."

Tim bit his lip. Of course he knew what this was to Bruce, but that made it all the more important! But the only way to truly prove what he was saying short of waiting for Jason to show up on the doorsteps of the manor was to exhume the coffin. Tim had a strong suspicion that if he even suggested that, Dick, for all his optimism and good nature, might never speak to him again.

"What if it is true?" he asked quietly, willing to momentarily pretend he was wrong.

Dick took a deep breath, and Tim could see he was warring within himself. He wanted it to be true, but everything about Jason was wrapped up in so much pain. If it turned out that Jason had been alive all along and they hadn't been there for him, neither of his mentors would ever forgive themselves for it, for what they would see as twice the failure regarding the second Robin. Easier to dismiss it as the imagination of an overenthusiastic teenager. Tim could understand that, but a part of him couldn't help but feel that it was also more than a little... cowardly.

"It's not true," Dick finally said, successfully ending the conversation.

Jason had to remind himself that it wasn't paranoia if they were really after you. Still he felt like he must have looked crazy, glancing up to scan the other passengers of the plane practically every five minutes even once they were in the air. On the packed more than five hour long inter-continual flight that meant three isles of forty five rows, two seats in the outer isles and four in the inner worth of passengers. So far he had not spotted anyone suspicious, but Jason kept looking. He couldn't see into the first class section and just hoped the people following them weren't there.

In the window seat next to him, Damian squirmed, exhausted and irritable. "How much longer?"

"We took off less than an hour ago," Jason told him as patiently as possible. "It's at least four to go, so sit tight. Get some sleep if you can."

The boy huffed, and Jason resigned himself to the fact that that happy future was unlikely. He couldn't blame him really since he had trouble sleeping on planes, too. And they both really should have tried, no matter how nervous he was about pursuit. It had been past four in the morning when the plane finally took off, and the genius that had scheduled this particular flight had made it so it would land in Bludhaven at almost midnight local time. Alone but awake and alert, Jason would have felt more or less alright to brave the night streets of Gotham's darker sister city, but with an eight-year-old in toe… He had to find Dick as fast as possible. It didn't help that he'd only been there once or twice, not to mention the fact that the original Robin could have moved by now. Jason only hoped that for once luck would be on their side.

"What's Dick like?" Damian asked after another period of silence.

He hadn't been enchanted with the idea of having to meet anyone before his father but seemed to resign himself to the fact. Jason himself would have much rather gone to Bruce right away, but navigating Bludhaven and Gotham in the middle of the night with a child and possibly a small army at their heels was just not a good idea. He briefly wondered when he had become so cautions. Had it been his death or the fact that for now he was solely responsible for Damian? He suspected it was the later. Not even dying was enough to completely rid him of his recklessness.

"Well, he doesn't know you, so he'll be surprised," though probably not as surprised as to see me, "but once I explain it to him, he'll be really nice," Jason assured the boy. "He'll probably try to hug you. A lot. Don't struggle; you'll only make it worse. Just humor him for a bit."

Damian frowned, probably wanting to ask why a practical stranger would be so affectionate. Instead Jason watched as he rummaged through the pocket of the seat in front of them, pulled out a sheet of magazine paper with minimal writing, and held out his hand in silent request. When he gave him a pen, Damian began to write something in the corner then slid the paper towards him. Jason read the surprisingly neat handwriting.

Are you going to be Robin again?

He was taken aback. Slowly, he took the pen from the boy and wrote: I don't know. Maybe.

Damian took the paper back and wrote again. Can I be Robin if you're not?

Jason rolled his eyes. No.

Why not! The boy practically stabbed the dot of the exclamation point.

Dad won't let you. You're eight and you're not trained.

I am! Jason raised a brow in a silent question, and Damian nodded vigorously then scribbled. Mother made sure I had training.

Of course she did, Jason thought dryly. Actually it made him feel a little better. Not that he was about to toss the boy head first into Arkham just to see how he'd do, but it helped to know that he wasn't completely helpless. He took the paper from him.

"Let's talk about it when we get home," he said out loud. "Dad has ultimate say in all this stuff anyway."

The truth was he really hadn't had a chance to think much about it, too focused on survival and just trying to get them back to Gotham. Could he be Robin again? Of course Bruce would be shocked to see him. There would be questions, conditions, a period of readjustment, but he was prepared for all of that. Jason figured he deserved nothing less than the ultimate lecture about following orders. But after all that? He hoped Bruce would give him another chance, despite their fight about it before his death. God, but that felt like so long ago…

Damian's yawn interrupted his thoughts. "I'm tired," the child complained.

"Here." Jason raised the arm rest between them, picked up an airplane pillow, and leaned his seat back making extra room. "Come on. Scoot over."

Damian shifted, tucking his knees towards his chest to lie down across the seats, his head on the pillow in Jason's lap. When he looked more or less comfortable, Jason drew an arm around him ensuring the boy wouldn't fall during any turbulence. It took only a few minutes for his breath to even out as he fell asleep. Jason was glad for it and knew he should have tried to sleep too, but his mind was way too wired.

"Ladies and gentleman, we're now making our final approach into Bludhaven. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened and return your tray tables and seat backs to their upright and locked position."

He jolted awake, surprised that he'd slept at all if not actually rested. Damian was still out, so Jason carefully leaned over the boy to look out the window at the city below. Even against the contrast of the nighttime skies, Bludhaven looked dull and ominous, but in the distance he could just make out the lights of Gotham. As cliché as it was, Jason felt his heart skip a beat. He touched the sleeping child's shoulder.

"Damian," he whispered, gently shaking him awake. "You gotta see this. We're almost home."