A/N: I'd like to thank the guest reviewers whom I cannot privately message. You're awesome!

The scene was lightweight inspired by a scene from Batman: Bad Blood. You'll know it when you read it.

Rated T: Drug induced angst/violence and language.

He was going to get to the bottom of this, then he was going to yell at his oldest son for being so damn careless.

It was determined that they would have their mission debrief in the cave, where they were usually held. Batman, Robin and Nightwing took the Batmobile, while Red Hood took his own bike, and Red Robin drove Nightwing's bike back to the cave, seeing as the owner was in no condition to drive it himself.

Alfred stood in the center lobby of the Batcave, where the Bat-computer was located, awaiting with an observation table set up with medical supplies as soon as they arrived. He figured it would be more timely to handle both the mission debrief and tend to any injuries simultaneously.

Tim went off to the changing room, while Jason remained in his uniform because he would be riding back to his apartment immediately after the debrief. He leaned on one side of the computer console as Bruce, now with his cowl pulled down, connected his wrist computer to the computer console and began downloading the data he collected.

All of the vigilantes of the night removed their respective masks as soon as they entered the cave, once again becoming their civilian aliases. Dick and Damian sat side by side on the observation tables as Alfred assessed their injuries. He began by ordering Dick to remove the top of his uniform so he could start stitching up the bullet graze on his left arm, but not before acquiring a blood sample and handing it to Bruce.

"The blood test should be ready in about fifteen minutes. Try to keep calm before then, and let me know if you feel any changes. The anti-toxin Damian gave you was a generic one, we don't know how well it worked," Bruce instructed as he placed the blood sample on the scanner of the console panel of the Bat-computer.

"Way ahead of you, B," Dick began nonchalantly. "I am the pinnacle of 'chill.'" He smiled brightly, "I feel normal. Very bruised and sore, but normal. Well, as normal as our normal gets," he added as an afterthought.

Dick managed to sit patiently for about two minutes before he began swinging his feet off the table like a small child.

"Master Dick, do hold still. You are making this much more difficult than it need be," Alfred said as he paused suturing Dick's bullet wound and began giving him a stern look. On the other side of the room, Jason could be heard coughing something that sounded vaguely like, "What a three year old."

Dick smirked looking at Jason then turned back to Alfred, looking at him innocently, as he lifted his right arm and gave a mock salute, "Aye, Captain!"

Alfred fondly rolled his eyes, then turned to Damian sitting beside Dick on the table as he continued suturing the wound.

"Young man," The family butler began. "I will require you to remove the top half of your uniform as well."

Damian tensed for a moment, "I believe you should complete tending to Dick, Pennyworth."

Dick was eyeing his little brother closely, as were the other three in the room. Damian's jaw was clenched as he glared daggers at the floor.

"You know that is not how it works, young man."

Robin paused for a moment before reluctantly unclasping his hooded cape. After pausing for another moment, the eleven-year old began to unclasp the front armor and remove his top.

"Woah," Tim said incredulously, just having entered the room and seeing Damian.

The rest of them had similar reactions. His entire family gaped at the dark bruises that marked the youngest's chest. It was a mess of dark, purple and yellowing bruises, the darkest being on his left side.

Dick beside him stared wide eyed, mouth slightly agape, before clenching his eyes and raising his right hand to rub his eyes in shame. "No, no, no, no," he groaned.

Alfred prodded his chest and deemed that Damian had cracked three ribs on his left side, no internal bleeding, and Dick slouched as much as his own damaged ribs would allow him as he looked up at Damian with guilt filled eyes. "Dami, I'm so sorry. This is my fault. Why didn't you say anything?"

Damian scoffed at him. "The fault is mine alone. If I had fought better-" Bruce cut him off immediately as he approached the table, staring at his child's injuries.

"Nightwing," Batman began, not bothering to call him by his actual name. "I want to hear everything. Now," he practically growled in his Batman voice.

Alfred cut the final stitching on Dick's wound, placed the scissors down and reached for the medical tape.

As Dick began talking, Alfred ordered Damian to lift his arms, and the injured boy hissed in pain.

Dick looked to Damian with pity as he began to describe in detail everything that occurred from the moment Robin left Batman's side to rendezvous with Nightwing.

Once they reached the sub-levels of the building, Dick recalled the moment Batman had told him not to engage. Not knowing the circumstances of the order, Nightwing assumed if he believed it was safe to engage, that he should seize the opportunity. He also described how Robin warned him that Batman said not to engage, but Nightwing refused and Robin moved on his order. After he had initiated the attack, Nightwing described how he and Robin were separated, then he realized the crates were used to harbor men.

After he had blocked the only other entrance in the facility, Nightwing ran towards Jonathan Crane's location, only to find Damian had been captured and appeared to be injured. Dick looked down guiltily at the mention of leading his brother into a trap.

Damian glared at the side of his head, not wanting, nor needing his pity.

He then recited exactly what Crane had said to them, then continued on to the point where he asked about the aerosol contraption.

"He said it was his 'escape plan.' Then a man from behind me injected me with his supposed new formula," he said the last part gesturing his fingers to make air quotations. "I'm not entirely sure what happened after that," he trailed off and looked to Damian to complete the story.

Damian coughed as if to clear his throat and sat up straighter, ignoring the pain in his chest as he did so. "After Nightwing was incapacitated, I was presented with the opportunity to either pursue Crane and his men as they made their escape, or assist Nightwing." Damian paused before continuing. "The green fog, which at the time I assumed to be fear toxin, engulfed the area. I placed my spare rebreather in my mouth and ran to Nightwing's aid with the intention of doing the same for him; however, as I reached him, he was completely engulfed in the fog, and I saw no point. Instead, I injected him with the anti-toxin provided in my belt and injected him as instructed." He spoke as if reciting from an encyclopedia.

"Afterwards, I attempted to awaken him, but all of my attempts were futile." He turned in the direction of Jason, where he continued to lean on the control panel, Tim doing the same a few feet beside him. "Then Drake arrived and provided an impromptu medical examination. Shortly after, Todd arrived and was able to successfully awaken him."

"Yup, I remember that," Dick said more to himself as he absentmindedly rubbed his face where Jason had slapped him.

"So, that's what Scarecrow meant by his 'escape plan,'" Tim said from beside Jason. "He probably knew you'd go and help Dick rather than chase him."

Jason nodded minutely as he crossed one arm over his chest as the other hand rubbed his chin in thought. "Sounds like it, but what exactly did it do?"

Dick shrugged, his eyes not leaving the floor. "Maybe it didn't do anything," he said quietly.

Even though Dick wasn't looking at him, Bruce was glaring daggers at his oldest son.

"Let me get this straight," he ground out. All of the men in the room turned to look at him, a slight, hidden fearful look on their faces as they could practically feel the Batman coming through. "You deliberately disobeyed me. After I had explicitly told you not to engage, that is exactly what you did."

"Yes, sir," Dick nodded, still glaring at the floor.

"You engaged, even after Robin had warned you that you'd be disobeying a direct order," he stepped closer to the examination table in the middle of the room, now only about five feet away from it.

Another nod.

"You engaged not having full knowledge of the circumstances of my order."

"Yes."

"Did you even bother running a thermal scan of the room, to determine if there was more men than you can see, or access the contents of the crates: Both of which directly correlated with each other and would have been essential knowledge prior to engagement?" Bruce was on the verge of yelling now, and Dick continued to glare at the floor.

"No, sir."

"As a result of your careless actions, Robin was cornered and attacked by more men than you had originally anticipated. He was completely outnumbered and you left him to fight them off alone."

Dick's eyes were wide now staring at the floor, as he began to breathe heavily.

Tim attempted to step in and diffuse the situation, if only slightly, only to be silently stopped by Jason. It was best for times like this for Bruce to let his anger run it's course.

"He then was overwhelmed, then incapacitated, which resulted in you having to drop your weapons and surrender."

Bruce didn't even bother pausing to let him answer. "And as a result, you were injected with Crane's knew formula and he managed to escape."

Dick had trouble speaking with the lump in his throat. Guilt was overwhelming him. Everything Bruce was saying was entirely correct and he deserved any punishment Bruce was going to give him.

At that moment, even without the cowl, Bruce was Batman. He stood only two feet away and scowled down at his son, "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Dick looked up and met his father's eyes. While Bruce's eyes were filled with anger, only guilt and regret could be seen in Dick's.

They stared at each other for a moment, Bruce studying every detail of his son's face, whereas Dick was trying to simply concentrate on Bruce's eyes. Although he was asked to make eye contact, Dick was only thinking about all the mistakes he made that night, and how his actions caused Crane to escape and his baby brother to be injured. They had failed.

"I want a full report on my desk in the morning. Damian," he looked at his son, who was sitting awkwardly beside Dick as he received a lecture. "Go get changed."

Bruce helped Damian step down from the table and together they headed off to the changing rooms.

Alfred began to access Dick's other injuries and deemed that he had a fractured rib, and four cracked, most likely coming from the blunt trauma of the bat he was bludgeoned with, and treated him accordingly.

The man the boys saw as a grandfather placed his hand on Dick's uninjured shoulder as he finished patching him up. "My dear boy, he will come around."

Dick continued to stare wide eyed, but blankly at the ground. Assuming he had heard him, Alfred left him to ponder to himself as he headed up the stairs, promising to clean up the medical supplies after he served the boys a late night snack.

Jason and Tim exchanged glances as Dick sat by himself in the center of the room on the examination table. The two brothers noted how Dick's breath was short, as he continued to stare off into space.

"Fuck," Jason began in an attempt to lighten the mood. "That was brutal. Dickie-bird, you don't normally take shit from Bruce that easily." It was true. Jason recalled a time where Bruce and Dick were at each other's throats in screaming matches. Normally, either he or Tim would be caught in the middle of it. Of course, that was years ago and before Damian came into the picture. By now, they've pretty much settled their differences, and refrained from arguing, especially in front of Damian.

Jason looked at Tim, and his younger brother shook his head slightly, silently telling him to let him be for a while. The anti-hero rolled his eyes, and Tim sighed as he sat down at the main chair in front of the computer, skimming over the files Batman had collected on Crane and waiting for the results of Dick's blood test.

Feeling completely out of character, because come on, he could be sensitive if he wanted to, Jason approached Dick and punched him lightly on his uninjured arm, "Hey, don't let it get to your head, Dickie-bird. You know Bruce: ever the angry old hag." He sighed heavily after Dick didn't laugh.

"It happens, Dick. He'll come around," Jason said quietly to his brother.

He didn't appear to have heard him. Deeming his attempt at comfort to be futile, Jason released a heavy sigh and began walking towards the loading dock of the cave, back to his bike. Mission over: he just wanted to go beat a few more baddies before he headed to his place.

Jason only managed to make it five feet away before he heard a quiet voice from behind him.

"I'm so sorry."

Confused, Jason turned back around to see Dick still not having moved from his position. He paused for a moment, thinking that Dick was still thinking about tonight. He paused and studied his brother before responding. "Hey," he began. "Like I said; just wait it out, he'll -," he managed before Dick cut him off.

"You died."

Jason was physically taken back. What the fuck is he talking about, he thought. This was old news. "...Dick?"

"You died because I wasn't there for you when I should have been, and I'm so sorry."

Jason turned to look at Tim, who was also studying Dick. Slowly standing up from the computer desk, Tim slowly made his way over to the panel of the console with the pending blood test. He must've thought the same thing: the fear toxin.

Just as Tim was approaching the console, Jason approached Dick slowly, and spoke to him like he would a child, "Dick, can you hear me?"

Dick blinked a few times before responding. "Yeah... Jay, Damian could have died today. I gave the order to engage. Jason, I could've killed him. I...I did kill him. Oh god." At the last word, Dick began sobbing, and grasping his hair tightly as he leaned forward where he was seated.

Shit. Shit. Shit. This has to be fear toxin, he thought frantically. Jason closed the distance between the two of them and grabbed his shoulders gently, forcing his older brother to look at him.

"Dick, hey, hey. Look at me." Jason grasped both shoulders and forced his brother to look him in the eyes, but Dick continued to stare wide eyed seemingly right through him.

"Tim," Jason turned to his younger brother. "Go get Bruce, now," he said as calmly as possible, as if not to cause any further stress on the situation.

As Jason turned his head to look at Dick once again, he found the air knocked out of his lungs as he was roughly kicked back.

"What the fuck!" He exclaimed as he righted himself.

Dick had kicked Jason in the chest and forced him back a few feet. The mother-fuck- Jason was about to voice his thoughts out loud until he realized he was staring at the barrel of a gun.

When Jason had his head turned, Dick must've reached into the inside of his jacket, where two holsters were located, and grabbed his gun. Dick held the gun in his right hand, his left hand slowly reaching towards the sharp objects on the medical cart.

"Get away from me," Dick said almost desperately.

"'Wing," Jason said as he took a small step forward.

"No!" Dick then lifted the gun and pressed it to his own temple.

"Shit!" Tim exclaimed fearfully observing the situation.

Instantly, Jason raised his hands in a placating gesture. Not looking away from his brother, Jason kept his hands up and addressed Tim, "Relax. Get Bruce. Relax..." Reluctantly, Tim moved slowly and purposefully to the changing rooms.

"Dick, hey, hey. Look at me." Jason holds both his hands up in a placating gesture, and speaks in a calm voice as if speaking to a child.

When Bruce had come back from the dead, and Jason began to work with Batman more, they had an agreement that the Red Hood would no longer use lead bullets. Rubber bullets, at close proximity and aimed to kill could still be lethal, and has been known to make kill shots. Along with that agreement, Jason had agreed not to bring loaded guns into the cave. Before dismounting from his cycle, Jason made sure the clips were not loaded. The guns were not armed with bullets, but he wasn't going to tell Dick that.

Now standing, Dick stood beside the examination table. Directly beside it was the medical cart, fully stalked with Kevlar scissors, scalpels...just, a lot of sharp objects. Really sharp objects, and Dick was slowly inching his way towards it, his hand only inches from the closet scalpel. If the gun didn't kill him, which it couldn't at that point, Dick still had a means to hurt himself before either of them could stop him. He was not going to risk telling Dick that the gun was unloaded.

Dick was not in the right state of mind. This is what must have been different about this fear toxin: It had a delayed, rather than instantaneous affect!

"Dick, this isn't you. Please, listen to me." Jason was practically begging.

Tim called out to the changing room for Bruce, but does not let the fear he is feeling creep into his voice, as if not to excite Dick.

Jason tried to come closer yet again, but he just cocked the gun. The other hand is reached for the a particularly large pair of Kevlar scissors and grasped them by the blade. "Don't. Don't come any closer. Please."

Jason stops in his place, his hands still up in front of him.

"I couldn't protect you. I couldn't protect Damian. Now he's dead." Dick was visibly shaking.

"Dick, listen to me! Damian is fine. He's perfectly fine. He's okay! Everyone is okay!" Jason exclaimed frantically.

Dick's eyes remained wide and full of sorrow. "No! You're lying. I can see him!"

Jason didn't even bother to turn and look in the direction Dick was looking in because he knew the only thing there was the Bat-computer.

From behind Dick, Jason could see Bruce reenter the room from the changing rooms, with Damian and Tim closely beside them. Both the new arrivals eyes were wide and their brows were furrowed in both fear and confusion, while Tim began pacing over to the med lab.

"Dick. You have to trust me. Put the gun down. We fought Scarecrow tonight? Do you remember that?" He continued, not even bothering to allow an answer, "He gave you something. You're seeing things. We are all fine!"

"What if Tim dies because of me too? I...I can't' let that happen, Jason. I can't."

"And you're not gonna, Dick. You're going to protect him, like you always do, but you have to be alive to do that. We need you alive, Dick."

Bruce exchanged a look with him from over Dick's shoulder, as if asking Jason if the gun is loaded. Jason shook his head. As he did so, Bruce began creeping towards the table Dick stood by, and Jason furiously shook his head, then jut his head towards Dick's other hand on the medical supplies. Even if Dick can't shoot himself, he could still be a danger to himself with all the sharp objects. Even now, the anti-hero could see blood steadily streaming from Dick's palm as he grasped the blade of the scissors for dear life.

Jason slowly inched towards the table with every waking moment. "Damian is alive. Tim is alive. I am alive, and we're going to stay that way for a long time."

"Stop!" Dick removed his hand from the table and grasped the sides of his head, with the gun still in his hand. "Please, stop! Stop lying!"

That was his cue.

As soon as his hand left the table, Jason ran at him, as Bruce did the same from behind. As Jason knocked Dick off the table and away from the medical supplies, Bruce caught them from the other side.

Jason removed the gun from his hand as Bruce struggled to hold Dick as he thrashed around in his arms.

"Let me go," he screamed as he thrashed around, seemingly ignoring his injuries.

He was wailing, and screaming and so in distress. Jason held is legs down to stop him from kicking as Bruce held down arms.

Tim ran out of the medical bay, after having grabbed a sedative and knelt down beside them as he pushed a syringe into Dick's arm. The sedative quickly took effect as his screams died down into sobs, until he completely passed out.

They were all breathing heavily, both from holding Dick down, and the adrenaline beginning to leave their systems.

Panting, Jason exchanged looks with Bruce, then Tim beside him. They all looked from each other to the now unconscious boy in Bruce's arms. All had similar expressions of shock on their faces.

Jason studied his older brother's face, and saw that his eyebrows were furrowed in pain, only slightly panting from the excitement less than a minute before. From his position, he turned to look at Damian.

Damian was in the same spot as before, his eyes were still wide in fear looking at the unconscious form of his brother, his mentor. Jason wondered what was going through the poor kid's head.

A/N: Next chapter will be this scene, but in Damian's perspective. In this chapter, I kept the POV general in the beginning, then switched to Jason's, if ya didn't catch on. I barely did.