-Two birds, one sheep.

Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth. –Buddha

Hard hitting rain poured from the pitch black heavens, the torrential downpour proving reason enough for the scum of Gotham to hole up for the night. Tim sprang from rooftop to rooftop without interruption, his grappling line propelling him at a somewhat suicidal rate. Any remotely rational thought that his analytical mind tried to force feed him was quickly and violently buried beneath a wave of rage and all-consuming sadness.

He could care less about what became of the Batman; it was because the fate of the caped crusader was so directly intertwined with the fate of Bruce Wayne that he was undeniably shattered. Sorrowfully Tim realized that in a matter of four days he'd have marked his first year under the name Timothy Drake-Wayne. Grateful that thunder drowned his grief stricken cry Tim kept his flying pace toward Park Row.

If Jason was in town, he knew exactly where to find his older 'brother' brooding. Catching sight of the weathered apartment building, Tim swung into the line with a new sense of vigor. The added momentum sent him crashing through a boarded up window on the third level.

Not caring to stop his fall, Tim tumbled gracelessly through the shower of splinters and across the empty flat. He felt the unarmored expanses of his suit give way to the jagged teeth of wood and glass. Stinging but thankfully shallow lacerations decorated his face, neck, and arms.

Carefully the teen tried to heave himself out of the treacherous mess he'd created with his unorthodox entrance. Tensing suddenly Tim turned his now unconcealed eyes toward the rickety elevator shaft, the exposed wires waved ominously before the dark outline of a man appeared upon them.

The undefinable silhouette landed with hardly a sound, his slow, methodical footsteps keeping equally as silent. In a flash of blinding lightning Tim caught sight of the daunting red helmet and on instinct launched a fist full of fly discs toward the advancing figure. In the suffocating darkness that followed the brief illumination Tim heard the discs clatter uselessly to the floor and in the next second found a boot connecting solidly with his stomach. The weight of the foot was incapacitating and Tim felt more than saw Jason lean in. Beneath the helmet he'd guess that the older was grinning triumphantly, if not a bit smugly.

"A bit far from home aren't you replacement?" An added about of pressure punctuated the hate spawned nickname, Tim struggling minutely to shove Jason's foot off of his chest.

"Daddy Bats send you, was he too afraid to see me face to face? That's pathetic Bruce!" Tim felt anger surge through his veins as Jason's foul mouthing took aim at Bruce. For once he didn't think about the words that tumbled bitterly and loudly from between his lips.

"Bruce is dead!"

He didn't know what exactly he'd expected or hoped for Jason's reaction to be. But Tim certainly hadn't expected to be hauled upward by his collar and thrown clear across the empty flat. Seeing the opportunity present itself Tim succumbed to the boiling mix of volatile emotions that had been brewing since he'd overheard Dick's crushing announcement. He launched at Todd, throwing his weight and emotion into every punch. It was a mistake that would surely cost him.

Made sloppy by his emotional overload, for every blow Tim blocked his opponent managed to land two more.

"Don't,"

Punch.

"lie-"

Kick.

"to me -"

Full fucking body slam.

"Drake!"

Tim went skidding backward, his feet sliding across the rain slicked floor as he skimmed two fingers across the beaten wood surface to stay balanced. He was aching and drained and as he looked upward toward the man charging at him with unbridled anger he willed it to be the last blow and closed his powder blue eyes against the glaringly empty sockets of the helmet.

"Master Richard you're in no condition to go after him."

"Dick, please…"

"Someone has to go after Tim! Or have you forgotten that Jay is armed, angry, extremely dangerous, and still uninformed of Bruce's death?"

The argument had stopped there, if only because Dick had launched himself out the door. It had only taken a couple of seconds for the reality of just what he'd allowed his brother to do to sink in. Alfred may have been right, he was still exhausted and his wounds from his last patrol around Bludhaven remained unchecked. But he wasn't going to let Tim go it alone, if anything it should have been him going after Jason.

Catapulting through the battering rain Dick tried and failed to catch up to Robin, his pace considerably slower than usual, but as fast as his body would allow. Over the constant splatter of water and the occasional roar of thunder Dick could hear the sounds of a vicious scuffle emanating from the battered apartment complex that looked over Park Row. With what little humor he could muster he denied Jason any points for creativity.

On that thought he launched through the already broken window.

Crash, bang, snap.

Liquid green eyes shot open and Roy reached instinctively for the arrow he kept stashed beneath his pillow, it was his night to make a bed out of the thread bare mattress and as his luck would have it, it was also the night some two bit punk chose to break into their hideout. Snatching the collapsible bow from the floor Roy looked toward the now unoccupied loveseat that he'd last seen Jason reside in. Swearing under his breath he threw on a set of gloves and a domino mask before swinging down the old elevator wires.

By the time he'd arrived the fight was already in full swing and once he got a good look at Jason's opponent, Roy lowered the arrow he'd aimed with a gut clenching sense of appall. His first loyalty in a fight would most likely go to Jason, if not Kori had she been around. He didn't mind death where death was due but Roy wasn't ready to shoot a Robin, thoughts of evoking the Bat's wicked wrath proving to be a seemingly worthwhile deterrent. However he wasn't sure that Jason's wrath would be any more merciful.

Standing at a loss as the war between original and replacement raged on, Roy couldn't help the way his stomach churned as Jason brought down a series of vicious blows that without the padding of the Robin uniform might have proved crippling. And then that one sentence cut through the air and he swore time stood still.

"Bruce is dead!"

Forget churning, the archer's gut dropped through the floor. It couldn't be, the great bat bested. But considering Dick's sudden reappearance in Gotham and his ragged stated it would make sense.

Snapping from his thoughtful ravine Roy cringed as Jason's attacks became rage fueled and senseless.

"Jason! Jason stop!" His cries went unheard as Red Hood, Jason having disappeared within the guise, continued the beat down of the battered Robin. Unwilling to witness the death of an innocent, of an old friend's little brother Roy drew a hesitant trick arrow, one armed with a scaled down flash grenade.

Before he had the chance to fire it, a shadow sailed through the broken window.

Dick landed heavily, his ankles shaking ominously upon impact. But he managed to move with lightning fast reflexes, drawing energy from his last ounces of adrenaline. Taking a one handed grip of Tim's shoulder he pushed the other further back, shielding him with his own body as he faced down Red Hood's charging form.

Whipping out an escrima stick, only one of two, Dick shoved the shatter proof polymer bar outward with shocking precision. The beast of a man, his first little 'brother,' stopped cold as the stick came to press lightly against his larynx. With maybe half a foot separating Dick and Tim and a full foot separating Jason and Dick the fight came to a sudden stalemate.

Tim was really tired of having his mind blown, watching Dick soar through the shattered window and rescue him from what was sure to be a near deadly attack would have been one of his last expectations. Still, he felt the gentle hand maneuver him backward while Dick stepped between him and Jason's barreling form, the unexpected becoming a very clear and protective reality.

Tim however did not miss the quiver in his older brother's ankles, or the slight tremble in the hand that held him behind Dick's seemingly solid form. A rush of guilt washed over Tim as he for the first time considered what kind of toll Bruce's death and the difficulties of it had on his older brother. Daring to break the silence he reached out for Dick's shoulder with a quite whisper, but the Kevlar padded shoulder fell out of reach.

"Dick…"

Jason glowered with fatal intentions toward the Robin now cowering behind Grayson's protective stance. Denial was trying to unhook rage's deep rooted claws, a crushing sense of grief starting to bubble up beneath the two. Bruce had after all been a father figure, despite his lack of finesse in the matter. He'd had every intention of shooting the messenger in his emotion blinded beat down, one of his hand's shove within the depths of his leather jacket, a hand wrapped around the grip of his favorite berretta.

But dark promise behind the escrima stick poised at his throat kept him from drawing it though, even if he did doubt that the golden child had it in him to so much as tap him with the sturdy weapon. Jason wouldn't have the time to find out, because as quickly as Grayson had arrived he was crumbling to the floor. A head of midnight locks collided with his shoulder before the eldest of them crumpled to the side, the whites of his domino mask slit in the tell-tale fashion of closed eyes.

Accepting the truth in the situation Jason knelt slowly and viciously ripped the mask off Dick's face. The other's red rimmed eyes, closed under the weight of unconsciousness were proof enough. Behind the mask he wept.

Starring shell shocked at the scene before him, Roy lowered his bow. Seeing one bird in a broken heap upon the floor, forcefully unmasked- another standing with one hand reached out into empty air, bruised and bloodied- while the final black sheep knelt with his brother's mask gripped in a bloodied hand sobbed silently made him think that maybe, just maybe his relationship with Oliver wasn't the worst in the world.

AN: Umm, don't know what to say about this one. Hehe.