Tim didn't notice it at first, but it wasn't for nothing that he was considered the best detective of his siblings. Then again, he didn't think it required too much detective work to notice that Dick was acting strange.

A certain level of strangeness was understandable, of course. It had only been a month since they'd found him again, since they'd removed the shrapnel blocking his long-term memory and he'd stopped working with Deathstroke. There were still memories that Dick couldn't quite reach, and while he remembered more every day, Tim could tell he was frustrated by the things he still didn't know. He was also making strides in training, but he was clearly also frustrated by how many things he had to unlearn from his time with Deathstroke. It wasn't fair, Tim agreed, that those fatal techniques were sticking with him, not when he'd only practiced them for six months as opposed to the years he'd been strictly nonlethal. Dick couldn't go on patrol until he was entirely certain he could control himself, which meant he was probably going a bit stir-crazy in the Manor. Tim wasn't sure he'd gone this long without hero-ing since he took up Robin at age nine.

So it made sense that Dick was being strange in some ways. But the weirdest thing was that, although he was spending a lot of time training in the Cave, he hadn't touched the trapeze once.

Tim couldn't remember another time when Dick had gone so long without flipping around on the trapeze, either for fun or to blow off steam or to train. He had used some of the other gymnastics equipment, but not nearly as much as he usually did. Bruce had bought all of it back when he first took in Dick, and Dick had made sure he'd gotten his money's worth. He was always flipping and spinning and flying around, but in the past month, it had almost seemed like he was avoiding it.

So, of course, this merited looking into.

For a week, Tim observed. He also made a note to do some acrobatics practice of his own while Dick was in the Cave, just to see what Dick would do. The answer was continue with his own training, but occasionally shoot Tim looks that seemed almost envious or mournful. And that...

Well, that wasn't normal at all.

After a week, Tim decided a more direct approach was necessary. Observing Dick had confirmed there was a problem, but it hadn't brought him any closer to figuring out its source, and Tim couldn't fix the problem if he didn't know where it came from. If this was anyone but Dick, he would probably try to figure out the source himself, or at least wait longer until asking, but of all of his family members, he thought Dick was probably the one who was the most likely to actually answer a question like that.

So, when they were both training (separately, because Dick refused to spar with anyone after an early incident with Bruce), Tim asked, "Hey, Dick, why haven't you been using the trapeze?"

Dick startled so badly he dropped one of his escrima sticks. "What- What are you talking about?"

"You haven't gone on the trapeze at all since we got you back," Tim said. "Which is weird, because Alfred told me he used to have to bribe you to come down."

"That was when I was nine," Dick protested.

"Yeah, but you still go on the trapeze all the time. And now, you're avoiding it. Why?"

Dick swallowed visibly, and Tim wondered if he'd been wrong in thinking he might actually talk about this. He took a step towards his older brother, trying to project an openness that would hopefully encourage Dick to be more open too.

"Look, I'm worried about you. You love the trapeze. I know you do. Why haven't you been using it?"

Too late, Tim realized that using the word "worried" had been a miscalculation. Dick hated nothing more than worrying his brothers, and he'd put on an act of normalcy the second he suspected he was doing so. Just as Tim should have known he would do, Dick plastered a fake smile on his face and reached out to ruffle Tim's hair.

"I'm fine, Timmy. I'm just still getting my bearings again. You don't need to worry about me."

"Yeah, but Dick-"

"I've gotta go," Dick said, putting away his escrima sticks and heading for the Cave exit. "I have an appointment with Doc Thompkins at the clinic."

Tim knew for a fact that Dick's appointment wasn't for another hour, and he also knew that Dick had been trying to get out of it all week. There was no reason he would need to leave the Cave for it now, not when it cut into his training time.

Unless, of course, he wanted to avoid Tim.

Well, the joke was on Dick. Tim could definitely out-stubborn him on this. He was going to figure out what was going on with his brother, no matter what it took.

"Hey, Dick!"

Dick looked over at Tim from across the kitchen. "What is it?"

"I wanted to show you something," Tim said, sliding into the seat next to Dick in the breakfast nook. Dick shifted a bit, and Tim noticed he was making sure he could easily get out from behind the table if he had to. The realization made something in Tim's chest go tight. The whole family was paranoid, perhaps excessively so, but they normally weren't paranoid like this in the Manor. This was their safe place. This was the only place where they could let their guard down. Dick, Tim realized, wasn't letting his guard down anywhere. He hated to think about how exhausting that had to be.

It was all the more reason to get Dick back on the trapeze, Tim decided. That had always been relaxing for him, and Dick needed something relaxing right now.

"What did you want to show me?" Dick prompted gently.

"Oh!" Tim nodded and pulled out his tablet. "Right. It's a video from a gymnastics competition. I thought it was pretty cool, and I figured you might appreciate it."

Dick's smile went a little strained. That wasn't necessarily an uncommon expression on his face, but it wasn't common when it came to gymnastics like this. Normally, any member of the family who saw an interesting gymnastics video would share it with Dick, and he would critique it with an expert eye. Normally, he didn't look like the thought of watching the video was vaguely painful.

"We don't have to watch it, if you were doing something else," Tim said, feeling a bit guilty. He'd hoped to get some hints about what was up with Dick, but not at his brother's expense.

"No, it's fine," Dick said. "I wasn't doing anything. Show me the video."

Tim eyed him a moment longer, then he pulled up the video. It showed two people doing a trapeze routine together, and the second it started, Dick's smile turned even more fake. The routine wasn't even that good. Tim had chosen it specifically because he knew it was the type that normally would get Dick to rip into it viciously, critiquing the trapeze artist's form and expression. This time, though, Dick just watched it with a badly-hidden expression like someone had just shown him the one thing he wanted most in the world and then ripped it away.

"Nice," he said in an impressively steady voice when the video was done. "Are you going to try to copy it?"

Tim hadn't been thinking that at all, but it might be a way to get a bit more out of Dick. "I don't know. Do you have any tips, if I do?"

For a moment, Tim thought Dick was going to be sick. The expression was gone in an instant, but Tim had definitely caught it.

"Not really," Dick said. "You're pretty good on the trapeze. You can probably manage it without my help."

Tim frowned. "Dick-"

"Sorry, Timmy, I just remembered, I'm meeting up with Babs for coffee. See you later?"

"Sure," Tim said, slumping a little. His drama went unnoticed; Dick was out the door in a flash.

Well, that hadn't worked. Or, again, it had shown that something was wrong, but it hadn't helped Tim figure out what that was. Tim was going to need to try something else.

And maybe this time, he would do it with some help.

"So we're trying to get Dick to actually talk about his problems?" Steph asked. "Why did I agree to this again? It's never going to work."

"You agreed because you're worried about him too," Tim said. "I mean, Dick avoiding the trapeze?"

Steph sighed. "You're right. That's super weird, and definitely a problem that should be solved. I just don't think talking to Dick is going to fix it."

"I know," Tim agreed. "I already tried talking to him outright, and then I tried tricking him into talking about it. Which is why that's not what we're going to do."

Steph's eyebrow raised. "Then what are we going to do?"

"We," Tim declared, "are going to ask Dick to coach us on the trapeze."

"So why'd you choose me as a partner?" Steph asked. "I know gymnastics, but I haven't done that much on the trapeze. I mean, I've had the basic training that Dick gives all of us, but I'm pretty sure he's done more with the others."

"Yeah, but that makes you the best choice," Tim countered. "I need someone who doesn't know the trapeze super well, so then Dick will need to help. Technically, I think Duke has the least experience overall, but he's working on an essay."

"I also have other things I could be doing," Steph said dryly.

"Yeah, but helping Dick is more important, right?"

"Isn't it more important than Duke's essay too?"

"Yeah, but Dick knows that Duke has an essay due tomorrow, so if Duke asks him for trapeze lessons, Dick is going to tell him to work on his schoolwork first."

"Fair enough," Steph agreed. "So, what trapeze routine are we doing?"

"This one," Tim said, sliding his tablet towards Steph.

Her eyebrows rose higher and higher as the video played. "Uh, Tim, there's no way I can do even half of that."

"I know," Tim said. "That's why we're asking Dick for help. It has to be a complicated routine or he'll just say I'm good enough at the trapeze to do it on my own. But this one is definitely too hard for us."

"What if he just tells us this is above our level and that we should pick something easier?"

"Then we either talk him into doing this one or talk him into helping us figure out an easier routine."

"And if he asks why we're doing a trapeze routine together?"

Tim shrugged. "I showed him one a few days ago and he assumed I was going to try to copy it. If we pretend like that's just a normal thing for us to do, I'm pretty sure he'll buy it. It was a normal thing for him to do."

"So we're taking advantage of your brother's lingering memory issues to manipulate him."

Tim winced. "Well, when you put it like that..."

"If we want to get through to him, we probably have to," Steph sighed. "Okay, let's do it. Where is he?"

"In the Cave," Tim said promptly. "Practicing sparring."

"With?"

"No one. He refuses to spar with anyone until he gets all the new Deathstroke instincts under control, and Bruce has low-key banned anyone from doing it anyway. I think he's sparred a bit with Cass, but that's it."

"Did he really almost rip Bruce's arms off?" Steph asked in an undertone.

"I don't think he almost ripped his arms off, but he definitely almost broke them. From what I've heard, sparring with Deathstroke was about as violent as you'd expect it to be. And since they can both heal quickly, neither of them would hold back when it came to injuring the other. So when Dick started sparring with Bruce, he..."

"Fought like he was fighting for his life," Steph finished. "Because he probably was, back when he was with Deathstroke."

"He's mentioned that Deathstroke would shoot him when he was mad at him," Tim confessed. "He... He said it like it wasn't even a big deal, and then he tried to pretend it was a joke when we all freaked out. But I don't think it was a joke."

"Okay," Steph declared, "after we get Dick back on the trapeze, we're going after Deathstroke and figuring out a way to kill him. Can he heal if we cut his head off? Ooh, what if we cut his head off and then blow it up?"

"Talk to Jason," Tim advised. "I think he's been researching how to kill Deathstroke since we first got Dick back. But before we get gruesome revenge on Dick's behalf, maybe we should focus on helping Dick directly."

"Trapeze it is," Steph agreed. "Let's go."

The Cave was empty but for Dick, just as Tim had known it would be. He was practicing with his escrima sticks and a dummy, one of the ones that would flash red if a hit was potentially fatal. As they entered, Dick hit the dummy in the neck and it flashed red. Dick took a step back, visibly tense even from this distance, then he adjusted his grip on the escrima sticks and went at the dummy again.

"Hey, Dick!" Steph called. "How are you? Bored without your favorite member of the family?"

Dick turned to face them, and Tim was pleased to see that the smile on his face looked genuine. "Everyone has been trying the favorite thing, but I know that I love the whole family equally."

"No, it's just that Damian is his favorite," Tim corrected.

"I don't have a favorite!" Dick protested.

"If Damian is his favorite, that would make sense," Steph allowed. "I mean, you practically raised the kid. We can't compete with that."

"You don't need to compete because I don't have a favorite," Dick said. "Is this all you guys came down here to do? Show why you're both definitely too annoying to be my favorites?"

Steph burst out laughing. "Savage!"

"We actually had something we wanted to ask you," Tim said. "Remember how I showed you that trapeze routine the other day and you asked if I wanted to copy it?"

The tension that seeped into Dick's body was immediate and obvious. He'd been relaxed and playful before, but now, he looked ready to run. "I do."

"Well, Steph and I did want to copy a trapeze routine," Tim said. "But we chose another one, and we could use some help with it. It's kinda hard."

"Then maybe you should choose an easier one," Dick said, trying and failing to keep his voice light.

"Yeah, but we really like this one," Tim replied. "And if you helped, I bet we could manage it."

"What sort of help?" Dick hedged.

"Some demonstrations, mostly," Steph said. "And tips. Tim's pretty good on the trapeze, but I don't have as much experience, so I could use all the help I can get."

Dick still looked far too tense. "What's the routine?"

Tim pulled up his tablet and started the video. "It's a little above our level, but it was the only one we could both agree on. You know how Steph is."

"Hey!" Steph protested. "Tim's the one who got all picky about everything. He vetoed more things than I did."

"This looks like a pretty advanced routine," Dick said, although he hardly seemed to be watching at all. "Wouldn't it be better for you guys to find something else that you could do more easily?"

"Yeah, but we like this one," Tim said, ready to go full petulant little brother if he had to. Dick could never resist his younger siblings if they gave him a certain look. "And you could help us do it, couldn't you?"

"I don't know," Dick said, shaking his head. "I've got my own training to do."

"Please, Dick?" Steph asked, clasping her hands under her chin and batting her eyelashes. "We could really use your help."

Tim could practically see Dick's big brother instincts warring with whatever weirdness had been keeping him away from the trapeze. "Well, first, why don't you guys do some practicing on the trapeze so I can see your level?" he finally asked. "I'm still a little fuzzy on some details."

"Okay!" Tim said eagerly, not wanting to let the moment pass without taking advantage of it. "Steph, come on."

Tim scrambled up the ladder, Steph behind him. Dick stayed on the ground. "Aren't you coming up?" Tim called down, although he wasn't entirely surprised that Dick hadn't.

"I just want to see where you guys are," Dick called back up.

"Yeah, but you normally watch from one of the swings," Tim replied. It was true; Dick claimed it gave him a better perspective. Apparently, he'd once admitted to Jason, years ago, that his parents would watch from the swings when he practiced.

"I'll watch from down here," Dick said, his voice just slightly off. "I don't want to get in your way."

"Okay," Tim said, a bit dubiously. He looked over at Steph, who looked about as dubious as he felt, and then they began to swing.

Every time Tim looked down, Dick did seem to be watching, even though it looked like it hurt him to do so. Finally, after they'd been swinging around for a few minutes, Tim called down, "Any advice?"

"You two are pretty good," Dick replied, even though Tim knew his form wasn't perfect and Steph's definitely wasn't. "I don't think you really need my advice."

"You're still the best on the trapeze, though," Tim said. "Can you come up and do some tricks that we can copy?"

That was Dick's favorite way to teach the trapeze, after all. He'd do a trick, explaining every movement out loud as he went, and then whoever he was teaching would do their best to copy him. It was fun, even though it would often end with the student falling onto the net. Dick proclaimed it was the best way to learn.

But this time, the look on his face made it clear he wasn't going to do it.

"I'm not going to come up right now," Dick said.

"Why not?" Tim demanded, aware that he sounded like a petulant child and not particularly caring. Dick was acting strange, and something was clearly wrong, and Tim just wanted to understand so he could fix it.

"I'm just not," Dick said, strain in his voice. Tim knew he should back off and let it go, but he couldn't.

"Why not? You love the trapeze, Dick, I know you do. Why haven't you been going up on it? What's wrong? Why won't you-"

"I can't!" Dick yelled, and there was so much agony and fury in his words that Tim lost all words of his own. For a moment, Dick's whole body was tense and jagged, and then he slumped, shoulders falling. "I can't, Tim," he repeated, his voice quiet, and he left the Cave.

Tim looked over at Steph, both of them wide-eyed. "I... was not expecting that," Tim admitted quietly.

"I didn't even know Dick was capable of sounding like that," Steph agreed, her voice equally hushed. "What are you going to do now?"

"Give him a few minutes, and then see if he's calmed down enough to talk," Tim said. "Honestly, blowing up like this might have been good for him. He's been so tense since we got him back from Deathstroke."

"Understandably," Steph said dryly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't make it easier for him."

"True," Steph allowed. "That didn't make him blowing up any less terrifying, though. I'm starting to see why Dick's temper is apparently kinda infamous."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, trying not to think too hard about bloodied fists and a broken, pale body.

"But if you want to talk to him, that's probably a good idea," Steph added, climbing down from the trapeze. "Better you than me."

"Thanks," Tim said dryly, following her down. "The solidarity is overwhelming."

"I'm gonna go find Cass," Steph said with a wave. "Call me, beep me, if you wanna reach me."

"Have fun with Cass, Kim Possible."

Steph winked as she left the Cave. Tim looked up at the trapeze, then he headed out too. He had a brother to find.

Dick was in his favorite of the Manor's many sitting rooms, curled up on the couch with his knees drawn up to his chest. He must have been distracted, Tim reflected, given that he hadn't heard Tim's footsteps and immediately tried to pretend nothing was wrong. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending. Tim hoped it was the latter. He thought that would make it more likely that he'd actually get to the bottom of this.

"Dick?"

"Hi, Timmy," Dick said, his voice exhausted. "Sorry about yelling downstairs. I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

"It's okay," Tim said. "What's up with you? Something is clearly wrong. Can you let me help?"

Dick offered him a small, sad smile. "You're starting to sound like the older brother there."

"I learned from the best," Tim said. "Please, Dick. What's wrong?"

Dick looked at his knees and took a slow breath. "I can't remember my family's routine."

Tim blinked. "You- What?"

"I can sort of remember what it looks like, but I can't remember how to do it," Dick said. "And I don't know- Some memories of physical things come back once I try to start doing them, but some don't. If I go up to the trapeze, I don't know if I'll remember or if it'll still be gone."

Tim had known there were still things Dick couldn't remember, but he hadn't known it was this bad. The Flying Grayson routine was one of the few things Dick had left of his parents. He treasured it, and if he couldn't remember it...

But Tim thought he might have a solution.

"What if you could relearn it?"

Dick looked over at him, a slight frown on his face. "What do you mean?"

"I know it wouldn't be the same as learning it from your parents, but you could learn the routine again," Tim said. "And maybe you'd remember if you relearned it."

"But how am I going to relearn it?" Dick asked. "I guess I could watch a video, but I don't know if that would be enough."

It seemed like Tim had stumbled upon something else that Dick had forgotten. "You taught all of us the routine. The whole family."

Dick stared at him, hope beginning to blossom in his eyes. "I- I did?"

"You even taught Alfred part of it," Tim confirmed. "I think Cass is the best at it, next to you. I'm sure she'd be willing to teach you. We can all help."

For a moment, Tim thought Dick might cry. "That sounds good."

"Want me to text Cass?" Tim asked, pulling out his phone. "We can do it now, if you want. I don't have anything better to do."

"Only if she's not busy," Dick said, playing the martyr like always. Tim was pretty sure Cass would make time for this.

"You know," Tim said as he shot off the text, "you can talk to us when something's wrong."

Dick raised an eyebrow. "Since when does anyone in this family do that?"

"I know," Tim allowed, "but you can. This whole thing would have been way easier if you'd just told me what was wrong when I asked instead of making me investigate it."

"I'll turn this back on you next time you pretend nothing's wrong when something clearly is," Dick said dryly.

"As long as you remember it for yourself too," Tim said. This would almost definitely come back to bite him in the ass, but honestly, a bit more emotional honesty wouldn't be the worst thing in their family.

His phone buzzed, and he grinned down at it. "Cass says she's free. Wanna go down and learn how to fly?"

That was how Dick had worded it when he asked Tim if he wanted to learn how to use the trapeze. He'd looked down at Tim, and he'd smiled at him, and he'd asked, "Do you want to learn how to fly?"

Tim said yes to the lessons, and he gained a big brother in the bargain.

Dick smiled his familiar smile, and Tim wondered if he remembered the same moment. "There's nothing else I'd like more."