-Blindsided

"I've learned that good-byes will always hurt, pictures will never replace having been there, memories good and bad will bring tears, and words can never replace feelings." -Unknown

None of them moved, in their bones it felt that the slightest disturbance might shatter the image before them. His hair was cropped neatly, cowl pulled back, and the sight was just as every photo and memory captured it. Bruce Wayne stood at his full height between the three of his eldest sons, a grim smile on his face.

It took a moment, a long moment for Dick to register that the image before him was not one that was truly there. The blue hue that came off the projection was enough of a grounding point, but he couldn't stop his heart from skipping a beat or two when he saw the familiar carved edges of cheek bones and pressed lips. This was the closest he'd come to being face to face with Bruce in probably four maybe five months, but the clarity of his memories held true and the life size hologram spared no detail, right down to the single dimple in Bruce's left cheek.

"Do we have to listen to it?" His whisper was soft but weighted as he watched Jason and Tim who seemed to be snapping out of their own ravines. Dick had paused the pre-recorded tape before a single word had left its—his, mouth. Despite having no true depth or color to them Dick could recognize the whelming spark in Bruce's eyes. That look radiated pride and love and forgiveness. But deeper down where only a true Robin could see was the silent and grim promise that despite all that pride and love and forgiveness…Bruce was about to shatter some part of their lives.

"I don't think he would have left it if he didn't intend for us to listen," Tim seemed to be avoiding looking directly at the hologram, pain easily read in his eyes.

Dick swallowed past the lump in his throat and looked toward Jason who shrugged in a half assed manner. Despite his nonchalance he was obviously uncomfortable being under his old mentors gaze once more, even if those eyes were completely unseeing. He pushed play.

"If you're watching this boys, I'm dead. I don't expect you to forgive me for all the times I've failed you, for not being strong enough to survive, but I do expect for you to carry on fighting the good fight. All these years I've watched you grow into exceptional young men, and capable heroes. All of my funding, equipment, and resources are at your complete disposal. Gotham must not be lost.

Dick, my son there is little time to mourn. Of you all I believe you to be the most capable to take up my mantle. Make no mistake Gotham needs a Batman. While I understand how hard this must be on you, I need you to find the discipline to muscle on.

Timmy, I need you to grow up a little here. Should your brother fall you can rise. Through the years you have proven reliable, if not a little too eager to please. Remember what I've taught you, how I've taught you. The world will need you, your strength and intellect. Keep fighting Tim, you will go far.

Jason my partner, my soldier, my fault. Therapy and imprisonment have both failed you, just like I. Your work to clean up Gotham is commendable, your methods…deplorable. I see no point in asking you to change, your actions have proven you unwilling or incapable of it. But I will ask one thing of you, my moral code aside. Protect your brothers; protect them, even if it is from themselves.

Damian—"

A gunshot echoed through the cave the hologram fizzling into empty air. Jason still clasped the smoking beretta, blue-green eyes wide with disgust. "Enough." How dare he, the old bastard. It was one thing to tear him down; it was expected after all these years. But to insult Tim and Goldie with what were his last words was a new low. Even for Bruce.

Three gazes of different blue but the same glow of hurt stared calculatingly at the shattered chunk of technology.

Dick had expected the moment when Bruce would blow it but, not the moment when he was fucking blindsided by the goddamn Batman. Despite the cowl being pushed back, his face visible to them it still sounded as if it was the caped crusader speaking to them. Somewhere between the lines had been an apology and a subtle admission of skill. Such little tidbits lost easily in what Bruce had seemed to be screaming in their faces.

Gotham.

Gotham, Gotham, Gotham.

Would it ever stop being about Gotham, did the mission ever end?

Dick wasn't sure anymore, all the bubbly and comical moments they'd rehashed the night before suddenly seeming less significant.

"No one tells Damian…that isn't how he needs to remember him." Dick looked toward Jason and Tim both giving small nods of acknowledgement.

While his brothers, each lost in their own stupor ascended the staircase, Tim knelt and plucked the small audio chip that had flown free of the holograms smoldering remains. There had to be more, there just had to be.

AN: This didn't really come out like I intended it. Bruce was little too harsh for my taste and it felt like more of a filler chapter than anything else. Love to the reviewers and a promise for one more extreme fluff ball before things get twisted.