Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Warner Bros. Entertainment, DC Comics, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: You know, if I had a nickel for every time I named a fic after the song Sara by Fleetwood Mac, I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it's happened twice.

Anyways, sorry it's been a while! Life has been busy. This fic is a little shorter than some of the other ones in the series, but I think it might be one of my favorites. Idk, I'll see what you guys think.

As always, I hope you enjoy,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~the storms 'verse~

~stay with me a while~

"I'll go after him," Mockingjay sighed as they all watched Robin's retreating figure vanish off into the night.

"I'll go with you," Nightwing offered before he was even fully aware of the words slipping out of his mouth, but he didn't regret them. Not even as Mockingjay turned to look at him, curious but not entirely disapproving of the idea.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, Batman's got this covered. Right, B?" he said the question s he glanced over at Batman, who was standing in the middle of all the chaos that was going on, even as it was dying down. The victims were being taken to two or three hospitals nearby via ambulances and the perps were being led into police cars and SUVs so that they could be taken to the nearest police stations, where they would be held until morning. The older alpha was waiting for the Police Commissioner Jim Gordon, as he always did when events as big as this one happened.

"Hmm," Batman grunted, acting like he wasn't fully capable of making a single complete sentence. It was a performance he had been putting on well before Nightwing had first come into the picture as Robin.

"Alright," Mockingjay relented. He tossed his head towards where Robin had gone. "Let's go."

So they went, the first two Robins going off to comfort the third.

Honestly, this had been bound to happen eventually: Robin – Tim realizing that fighting crime wasn't all that, that it wasn't just beating up criminals and then letting the joke of a justice system that was Gotham's deal with them.

That there was a depravity that existed in this city to an extent unlike so many others that victimized particularly omegas, beta women, and children, but really anybody and everybody that it could as a whole.

It was the breaking of the metaphorical self, a soul-crushing experience. Dick's had happened all the way back when his parents had been murdered, before he'd even become Robin. Jason's had happened about a year or so after his taking of the mantle.

But Tim wasn't them; he didn't have the same experiences as Dick and Jason. And it made sense that this was happening now because of that, given what the beta had been told about the circumstances of Jason's death, resurrection, and torture and forced impregnation at the hands of the al Ghuls after that.

Because tonight, you see, the four members of the Batfamily, as the citizens of Gotham had taken to calling them because of how congruous they'd become since the appearances of Mockingjay and the third Robin than they ever had before – and Dick didn't actually mind this nickname, because they were more of a family now than they had ever been before, but that was neither here nor there – had converged on a prostitution ring. A human trafficking ring.

They'd taken down its main base of operations, capturing almost all of the perps involved and freeing all of the victims. Victims, he might add, who were all underage: omegas, young beta females, and even children who hadn't presented yet. Most of them were younger than Tim's fifteen years of age.

Dick's stomach had turned – was still turning – at the sight of it all. So, he could only imagine how Tim, who was much younger and less experienced, who had only been Robin for three months as of this week, was feeling when the alpha was sure he was going to go to the bathroom and puke as soon as they got back to the Manor.

(He could only imagine how Jason was feeling, too, but he would check in with his other younger brother later. For now, the two of them were focused on the beta that they had already come to view as their youngest brother. Damian didn't count to Dick, since he was more of a nephew to him than he was a sibling.)

They found Tim not too many blocks away, sitting on a building's rooftop, his legs dangling over the edge. Even before he and Jason got too close, Dick could see how the fifteen-year-old's shoulders were shaking as he wept, the moon the only other witness to his tears besides his older brothers.

"Replacement," Jason said as he and Dick landed on top of that same rooftop.

The omega had taken to calling Tim the nickname rather quickly after Tim had come to live with them (well, not so much Dick, since he had his own apartment, but still) at the manor. Bruce had been a little put off by it at first, having thought that Jason meant it in a negative way despite how he had been the one to initially suggest that Tim come and live with them.

Jason had cleared things up with him about it: the name "Replacement" was meant to be endearing, and he'd told Tim as such when he'd first started using it. Tim had told Jason that he didn't mind the name, that he even liked it, and he'd backed Jason up when he'd told Bruce as much.

But tonight, the effect of saying the nickname was not one that Jason had intended. If anything, it made Tim's shoulders shake even more as he bit out, "H – how can you be so nonchalant about this? How can you...?" He trailed off, before he let out a whimper and shook his head. "What we saw tonight...what those monsters did..."

Jason sighed. "Oh, Timmy."

If Bruce was here, he would have, of course, frowned upon the usage of their personal names in the field. But Dick could agree that during this specific circumstance, it was warranted.

Jason walked over and sat down next to Tim, allowing the beta to lean his head on his shoulder. Dick followed after him. He sat down on Tim's other side.

"I hate what those assholes did," Jason said. His voice was so quiet that, even though Dick was sitting three feet away at the most, he had to strain his ears to hear him. "They're lucky that B has a no-killing rule and that I've decided to keep on following it. Otherwise – "

"Jay," Dick admonished. He didn't necessarily disagree: he wanted to kill all of those horrible alphas and beta men too, just like how he still wanted to kill the Joker and the al Ghuls for what they had done to Jason.

But they didn't need to be giving those kinds of ideas to Tim when he'd only been officially Robin for three months, and had only been living with them for another four on top of those. He still needed guidance of what was right versus what was wrong.

"Right. Sorry, Nightwing," Jason apologized, understanding what he was trying to convey in just a single word that was also his nickname. He cleared his throat. "But killing them isn't the solution. Their victims won't get the justice that they deserve if we do that."

"I know that," Tim snapped at him. "I just...I don't understand..." He floundered. "I'm never going to be able to get those images out of my head. Never. And how am I supposed to – to be able to with them when – ?"

"You could get a therapist," Jason suggested offhandedly.

Tim, however, shook his head. Wildly. "No. No, I can't."

Dick frowned. "Why do you think that, Timmy?"

It was true that none of the rest of them went to a therapist. They probably should've, but they didn't. Bruce definitelyneeded a therapist, he'd needed one ever since his parents had been killed right in front of him. But after all of these years of not talking to anyone about it, not even Alfred, it was unlikely that he would ever go to see one.

Maybe that was why Bruce had been so insistent on Dick seeing a therapist after his own parents had been murdered in front of him by Red Hood, back before he'd become the Joker; yet the whole shindig of therapy hadn't worked out for Dick. He'd needed a greater outlet, which had wound up being Robin.

And Jason, the nineteen-year-old would unfortunately probably never trust a medical professional again after everything that he'd been through after his resurrection. Even if he did, it wouldn't happen for many, many years to come.

All of this was to say, though, just because none of them saw a therapist, it didn't mean that Tim wouldn't be allowed to. It didn't mean that they wouldn't want him to, either. If he was suffering even more than he'd already been because of how Jackson Drake had seriously neglected him, if he needed help...

"Going to a therapist would mean telling somebody outside of the family about what we do at night," Tim said obstinately. "I can't do that."

It was now Jason's turn to frown, albeit he had already been doing that. Maybe it would've been more fitting to say that his frown deepened. "Why not? None of us would be against it if you did. In fact, I'm sure if you want a therapist, Bruce would be able to find one that would agree to an NDA and not retrograde on it. There's people outside of our family that haven't signed an NDA but won't spill the beans about is, like Babs and Lucius."

"Babs was once Batgirl, and Lucius is in on the business, too," Tim pointed out. He shook his head again. "But I don't want a therapist! I just – this is gonna get better, right? Because all I can see is what we saw and – "

Jason, Dick thought, should've been the one to comfort Tim for this particular problem. He knew the sheer amount of suffering better than Dick did, as bad as that was to say.

But it was Dick who spoke, the words once again coming out of his mouth before he realized what they were:

"It will with time," he said.

Jason looked up at him at the same time that Tim did. Something about his tone must've given him away – that he wasn't simply speaking from his experience as an observer.

But Jason's expression remained carefully blank, and his eyes weren't giving anything away since they were hidden behind his domino mask.

So, Dick kept on going. Starting to talk was half of the battle, wasn't it?

"Tomorrow...I'm not gonna lie to you, Tim, you'll probably still be seeing what we did tonight. But the day after that won't be as bad, and the day after that won't be as bad as that one. It'll be slow, but it'll get better. Eventually, you'll only think about tonight every once in a while: a few times a year at most, or when a particularly bad night comes up.

"But just because you don't think about it, that doesn't mean that you won't remember it or that it didn't happen. That's where the healthy coping mechanisms come into play. That's why you should probably see a therapist, too, if you think it'll help. Don't look to the rest of us as examples of not needing ones; we're all hypocrites."

Tim was silent. So was Jason.

"What...kind of healthy coping mechanisms?" Tim finally asked.

"Maintaining a good sleep schedule, for one," Jason deadpanned, before he flicked their younger brother on the forehead. It caused Tim to let out a squawk. "Coffee can't get you through everything, Replacement."

"Meditation might help, too," Dick added. "Mindfulness, specifically."

He and Jason spent the next twenty minutes or so telling Tim about all of the healthy coping mechanisms that they did, carefully leaving out the ones that weren't, until they became aware of another presence on the rooftop. Jason turned around first, his omega instincts making him keenly aware of the father of his child. He waved a hand. "Hey, B. You here to collect Robin?"

"Yes," Bruce said.

It spoke to how Tim felt that he didn't even try to fight any of them on this. He just stood up and headed over to Batman. Dick got ready to do the same.

But then –

"Is it okay if Nightwing and I stay out for a little longer?" Jason asked. "Since we came out here with our own Batmobile."

Batman considered his words for a moment. "Fine," he said. Then he turned himself and his cape around Robin with a splendor, as had always been his wont. They headed towards the opposite side of the rooftop, where they took off into the night, like Tim had on his own earlier.

Jason did not speak for a good few minutes after they'd left. Neither did Dick.

But, when his younger brother finally did...

"When did it happen?" he demanded. His voice was absolutely wrecked, in a way that it hadn't been before.

Dick didn't bother trying to deflect in asking what he meant by that, or saying that nothing had happened at all.

They both knew what he was asking about, and they both knew that something had happened. There would be no point in trying to deny it.

"It was a year after you died," the alpha spoke.

He couldn't look at Jason while he was doing it, too afraid of what he might find in his expression. He looked up at the moon and starless sky instead. The light of the former, and the feeling of the brick of the ledge from where he was clutching it with his fingers, helped keep him grounded. They prevented him from forgetting where he was.

"I...don't know if we ever told you about Tarantula. She was a vigilante that appeared here briefly; I made sure to drive her out of the city afterwards. 'Told her she couldn't come back, that she was lucky I was letting her off as easy as I did – not because of what she did to me, but because of what she did to other people. She killed a guy right in front of me. I couldn't stopped her from doing that. I didn't."

"Dick – " Jason tried to interrupt him.

Dick, however, just kept on going. "I was so shocked by what she did...and she took advantage of that. I couldn't fight her off. I tried telling her to stop. But she did what she wanted to do. On a rooftop, like this one? How fucked up is that?" he laughed bitterly.

He had to steel his breath in order to keep pushing forwards. "I didn't tell anyone about what happened with her. Not Bruce, not Alfred. 'Just told them that she killed somebody and I got her out of the city. You're...actually the first person I've told this to, Jay."

There was silence after he stopped. A deep, sorrowful silence.

But then, Jay was shuffling closer and grabbing his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He was. When Dick tore his eyes away from the sky to look at him, he saw the devastation of Jason's face, clear to see.

It made him feel even worse than he already did.

"No, I'm sorry," he said. "I meant to tell you a long time ago...after you came back. I tried." He wasn't going to mention how the time that he had tried was also the one when Jason had yelled at him about his, Bruce's, and Alfred's behavior, had justifiably shouted at him that he didn't know what the omega had been through. Dick didn't want to make him feel guilty about that. "I thought it might've helped. But I never did; I couldn't bring myself to – "

Although he couldn't see the action itself, the movements of Jason's face told him that the omega was rolling his eyes. "God, you're an idiot," he remarked dryly. "You don't have to tell anybody your trauma if you don't want to, Dick."

"I wanted to," he insisted obstinately. "I just...didn't really know how."

"Yeah, I get that," Jason said. He sniffed, wiping at his nose before he peered down at the street below them. "I used to think, back before I presented, that omegas had it so hard. 'Didn't stop me from thinking that I'd be fine if I was one, just wasn't exactly pleasant to think about, you know? But I think everybody in this world has it fucking difficult, one way or the other."

Dick gave a startled laugh, even though he could tell that Jason had something serious to say. It was one way to break the tension. "Yeah."

"Damian's going to be an alpha," Jason confided in him. It was the first time that he had said it out loud, not that Dick was surprised: Talia and Ra's had made him for one reason, and that was to be the heir to their and Bruce's families. What other point was there to have an heir in their (stupid) minds, if not to give him any and every advantage possible, including the taboo alpha voice? "And I'm scared for him. There's so much that I went through, that Bruce went through, that you and Tim have gone through. I don't want him to experience any of that."

"He won't," Dick replied confidently. "We'll make sure of that."

"I know we will," Jason returned. His lips thinned. "Just...sometimes my anxiety gets the better of me. Talia hasn't tried to take him back yet."

"Maybe she knows better than to try."

That was a lie.

"She will try," the omega confirmed. "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not until Damian's presented, but she will. She and Ra's aren't used to not getting what they want."

"We'll be ready for them when they do," Dick said.

"Yeah," Jason answered. But he didn't sound all that confident.

Dick wasn't going to call him out on it. He knew that Jason had his reasons, many, many reasons for being so doubtful. It wasn't like a mindset born from that kind of trauma could change overnight, or even years.

Hell, even Dick still had problems from what had happened to him sometimes. When he was walking down the streets in his regular clothes, despite the Tarantula never having seen him without his domino mask (though the masks weren't everything, he knew that), every woman that kind of looked like her had him startling. A few months ago, a beta woman had brushed past him in a coffee shop and he'd flinched back, actually flinched back.

She hadn't noticed, thank God. Nor had any of the other customers of the coffee shop, nor its employees.

That hadn't stopped Dick from wondering what if they had.

What it did say about him, that even random beta women who he had never met before and would likely never see again set him off in the same way that his other triggers did? His other triggers, he could understand why he reacted to them as he did. But why did he react that way to other people who didn't deserve it, even after all of this time?

(Well, time was relative.)

He knew that it didn't make him a bad person. That it meant that he was recovering from his trauma still, and that he would be continuing to recover from it for basically his entire life.

That didn't mean that he didn't wish that his recovery could be just a bit faster. That he could overcome the mindset just a bit faster.

He was spiraling again. He realized that.

As he'd told Tim, it was easy to do on nights like this one.

Inhaling through his nose and breathing out through his mouth, he squeezed Jason's hand. Jason had still been holding onto him for the past several minutes or however long it was, and he appreciated it. "I don't think I can thank you enough for coming back to us," he said, hastily adding when Jason opened his mouth, "I mean, I know you felt like you had to, because of Damian and Talia and everything else, but...you didn't have to. 'T definitely would've been a lot harder for you, but you could've tried vanishing off the face of the earth instead of coming back here." And making it obvious to the League where you and Damian are.

"Tried, yes," the omega agreed. "It wouldn't have worked. I made the best decision that I could for me and Damian, and I don't regret it. Not when it means we have Bruce in our lives and I have you back as my brother. And Timmy and Alfred too, of course."

Dick smiled. "'Of course.'"

Jason cleared his throat again and got to his feet. The meaning of his intent was obvious, and the alpha couldn't blame him. It had been a heavy night for them all around.

"Do you want to go to the nearest Batburger, scare the shit out of the employees?" his younger brother asked nonchalantly. "I feel like I could go for a burger and fries, maybe some nuggets with their specialty sauce."

Dick's smile turned into a grin. "Sure, why not?"

They did indeed give the employees quite a shock when they pulled up to the payment window, the Batmobile making it obvious that they were the real deal. The employee at the cash register tried to convince them not to pay, but Dick wasn't having any of that. He gave him the money as Jason tried to stifle his cackling. He wasn't very successful.

They each got burgers, fries, and vanilla milkshakes, and they split an order of twenty nuggets between them. Dick parked the car in one of the sewer entrances, so they wouldn't be seen. They listened to one of the late night Gotham radio shows as they munched, laughing at a couple things that the host of it said. It was always funny to hear the public's theories about them, especially when they were almost always so inaccurate.

Although the greasy food still made him feel a little queasy, Dick felt his mood lighten. Disclosing seemed to have finally lifted a weight off of his shoulders that he hadn't even realized was there.

Once they finished their food, they went back to the cave. To Dick's surprise, Bruce was down in the main room with a wide awake Damian, the toddler trying to wriggle out of his grasp as he held him in his lap and worked at the computer at the same time.

"Omi!" the toddler shrieked as soon as Jason got out of the car. He'd pried his domino mask off at the sight of his son.

"Hi, little man," Jason said as he scooped him out of his father's hold, his tone half-incredulous, half-disapproving. It shouldn't need to be said that Damian's sleep schedule later today – it had already passed midnight, in fact a look at the clock in the Batmobile revealed that it was three in the morning – would be wrecked. "What are you doing up?"

"He woke up when I went to check in on him. He's refused to fall back asleep since," Bruce explained, apologetic. "Sorry."

Jason clucked his tongue. "He gets that from you."

An interesting expression came over Bruce's face, as if he wanted to ask, "And what about all the nights you wanted to patrol more than sleep Before?"

Dick beat him to asking it, if he would've, with a question of his own: "Where's Tim?"

"Asleep now, I think," Bruce said. "Alfred made him some hot chocolate earlier."

"Ah," Dick said with a nod. While he didn't know for sure given from the context if he had done it, he had his own memories of the beta man offering to put some melatonin in his hot chocolate on particularly bad nights as Robin.

Alfred wouldn't do it without Tim's expressed consent, but knowing Tim's problems with sleep even on a regular basis, he'd probably agreed.

Good. He needed it.

"Sleep sounds like a good idea," Jason concurred. "What do you think, Dami?"

"No!" the toddler whined.

"What do you mean, 'no?'"

The omega headed over to the door to the locker room so he could get changed, his son perched on his hip.

After the door had closed behind them, Bruce turned to look at Dick. "Tim told me what you and Jason did for him earlier tonight," he spoke. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Dick replied. He yawned. "'Think I'm gonna sleep here tonight. I don't feel like going back to my apartment."

Word Count: 4,082