Author's Note: Apologies for the short chapter. All the revelations to Bruce will be exclusively from his pov and will require a chapter in itself. There's just too much there to squeeze it into this one. Yeah, it's gonna get pretty scary being in his head for a whole chapter. Please enjoy and review!

The only up side at the moment to being a cop was that Dick had a portable siren on hand. Thus he wasn't terribly worried about being stopped as he did eighty-five miles an hour across one of Gotham's bridges. Neither of his passengers said anything. Tim seemed to be worried and deep in thought, no doubt trying to reconcile the events of the last few hours with what he thought he knew about Jason. Damian just stopped speaking all together, and Dick wasn't sure if he blamed him for Jason leaving or for simply... existing. For all he knew, in the boy's mind everything was fine until they'd come here.

They were half-way through the city when Tim shifted in the front passenger seat. "Are you sure he'll come here?"

No, Dick thought. I've been wrong about pretty much everything else so far. "There's nothing for him to do in Bludhaven."

"You think he'll try to go after the Joker? He'd have to break into Arkham and with the new security system..."

"You're assuming he's thinking rationally," Dick corrected. "He's not. I mean, not at all. But he has nowhere else to go. Everything and everyone he could be after is in Gotham."

As far as Dick knew, at least, and a part of him actually hoped Jason's thoughts were leading him towards Arkham. There was a good chance he'd be stopped before he actually got to the Joker, but there was another reason as well. Because if he wasn't planning on using that gun on the clown, there were only two other targets Dick could think of and both were too terrible to contemplate. Tim sat back, arms crossed.

"Guess it'd be too much to hope for that he just comes back to your place and waits for us."

He didn't ask about his injuries in front of Damian for which Dick was grateful. He had patched him up but under that kind of stress and violence Jason could very well inflict on himself – hopefully only unintentionally – it was all the more imperative they get to Bruce first. Dick still had no idea what he'd say to the man. He just tried to concentrate on driving.

They reached Wayne Manor in another twenty minutes. By that time the sun had begun to set, but Dick expected that Bruce was still home. If he had to hunt down Batman mid-patrol, it would be precious hours lost that Jason simply didn't have. Dick spared a glance in the rear view mirror at Damian, but the boy was still quiet, not even bothering to look around the grounds of the estate as they made it up the drive way. He sighed, stopped the car right at the front door, not bothering with the garage, and got out. Tim and Damian were already out of the car, and he walked around to their side, kneeling by the boy.

"Damian," he said gently. "We're going to go inside in a second. I'm going to talk to your dad first, and then I'll bring you out to meet him. He won't be able to stay with you the whole evening, though. He'll need to help Jason, but then they'll both be back, and we'll all have plenty of time together."

The boy looked up at him. "He'll bring him back?"

"Absolutely."

Don't make promises you can't keep, Grayson.

The voice in his head sounded eerily similar to his brother, and Dick hoped he wasn't lying to the child. He offered him his arms, and Damian let himself be picked up and carried the rest of the way to the doorstep. Tim rang the bell, and there was a collective intake of breath from all three. Dick silently counted to himself. When he reached twenty-two, the door opened. Alfred was about to give them his customary greeting when his eyes fell on the boy. Anything he meant to say died on his lips.

"Hi," Dick forced a cheerful smile. "Alfred, this is Damian. He's eight. Damian, say 'hi' to Alfred. He pretty much runs everything around here."

Neither spoke. The look on Alfred's face somehow managed to remain perfectly composed though his eyes and loss of speech gave away his shock. Damian just looked away and wrapped his arms around Dick's neck tighter. He wasn't about to give away his heart again so easily. The eldest shifted the boy in his arms and cleared his throat.

"Right... umm... is Bruce still around?"

The butler kept staring at the child but recovered quickly, perfectly professional once again. "Master Wayne is down in the wine cellar, but I expect he will be leaving for the party soon."

Translation: Bruce is suiting up in the cave and will be out on patrol at any moment. Dick nodded and set Damian back on the ground. "Okay. Tim's going to take Damian here into the kitchen and give him some... milk and cookies while I go get Bruce."

With some obvious reluctance on the boy's part and some prompting from the teen, Damian finally stepped over the threshold of the manor but instantly turned back to look at him. Dick gave him a small reassuring smile and nodded. He wished he could take him himself, but there was just no time. He couldn't let Bruce leave. When the boys were finally out of earshot, he stepped inside himself and let Alfred close the door.

"Master Richard," the butler gave him a pointed look. "With absolutely no offense intended towards Master Timothy, but you cannot keep doing this."

Dick held up his hands. "It's not what you think."

A single brow went up. "My only other alternative is that you had a far wilder youth than either myself or Master Bruce is aware of."

He couldn't help but laugh. "Now it's really not what you think. But since we're on the topic, you might want to ask Bruce about his wild youth."

It took Alfred much less time to get that implication than when Jason had told him about Damian's parentage. The look of surprise also passed faster, and the butler straightened.

"I shall prepare a room for the young master."

He was about to turn and head up the stairs, but Dick caught his arm. "Make that two."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Two rooms. One for Damian and..." Dick swallowed, "and Jason's old room."

The space between the man's brows creased. "You know very well we do not..."

"It's for him," he blurted out. "For Jason. He's back, Alfred. I don't know how, I just know it's him. He brought Damian to us, but he's in trouble, and I... I can't help him. He needs Bruce."

He hadn't explicitly expected Alfred to gasp or anything of the sort, but when the butler grasped for support he instantly moved forward to give him his arm. Jason's death had had an impact on all of them, and Alfred also had the added burden of watching Bruce self-destruct in the years afterwards. When he managed to finally compose himself and looked up at Dick once again, his wrinkle-marred gaze was slightly shiny.

"Richard." The old man looked sad, tired, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Be gentle with him."

Making his way down to the cave felt a little like walking through time. He could see it as it was now but it was as if his mind superimposed elements of it as it had been. The computer was not nearly as high-tech during his tenure as Robin. There had been far less trophies, and the car was little more than just another black vehicle with a fancy head-piece. The man who he came upon at the bottom of the stairs had changed almost as much as the cave.

He used to smile, Dick recalled.

"Bruce?"

He was standing at the computer, already suited up, but the cowl was still pushed back. He didn't look surprised to see him, but then he never looked surprised at anything. Dick took a deep breath and tried again.

"I need to talk to you."

"So talk," came the brusque response.

That tone set Dick's teeth on edge. It was at times like these that he remembered why he'd moved to Bludhaven in the first place. But he couldn't get angry with him now, Dick reminded himself, not with what he was about to tell him, with everything that was at stake. However he also refused to talk to the back of that damn cowl.

"Come up to the house." Bruce looked up sharply, but they had known one another for far too long for Dick to be cowed. He wouldn't be backing down. "Change out of the suit and come upstairs. I need to talk to Bruce Wayne, not Batman. It concerns his family, not the mission."

There was a short stretch of silence, but then his mentor asked, "Are you alright?"

Dick gave a weak smile. "Relatively, yeah, but I...we really need your help"

Ever the master detective, he zeroed in on that one word. "Who is the 'we'?"

"I'll tell you everything when you come up." Dick tried not to be annoyed. "Bruce, please."

The heavy cape was unclasped with a few snaps and fell to drape over the large chair.

"Give me two minutes."

Jason no longer saw in anything but shades of black, white, and red. It wasn't explicitly true, but it was more than just a metaphor. There was something wrong with his vision. It felt a little... fuzzy around the edges. Jason idly wondered if it was from the blood loss. He knew he hadn't even come close to recovering from that fight but could think only clearly enough to move without aggravating them too much. The hoodie that he'd bought at one of the airports was zipped atop of Dick's shirt. It worked out; the red hid most of the blood stains.

It took several hours to navigate his way from Bludhaven to Gotham. More graffitied subways and monorails strewn with trash, more evidence of ruin and decay. People either didn't notice or didn't care about the gun tucked into the back of his jeans. No one wanted any more trouble than the city already provided. Of all the things that had changed since his death, Gotham was not one of them. In the past he would have swung across both cities in no time, but he wasn't Robin, the boy wonder, anymore and never would be again. Knowing what he did now, Jason realized it would not be possible even if the replacement wasn't in the picture. The enormous hurt of it was almost too small in comparison to the overall realization:

He didn't belong here anymore.

Not in Gotham, not with the family, maybe not even in the world as a whole. Everything and everyone had moved on but he'd stayed the same. No, not the same. His anger and resentment and pain had grown, only they'd been pushed to the side because the kid had needed him. But now Damian was safe with Dick and soon Bruce. He'd done one good thing since his resurrection, and now it was time to do another.

Even if it was the last thing he ever did.