Jason stared at the ceiling. Traced the bumps on it with his eyes and drew constellations with his mind. It was dark in the bedroom, but not dark enough. Not dark enough to drown out the screaming.

Tim and Damian would be here tomorrow. They could get a layout of the house then. More people. Faster. Tim and Damian would eventually have to do it themselves, anyway. Might as well wait a day. Of course, Jason really should've checked the clock himself by now. He'd do that today. Tim and Damian would also insist on personally investigating, but Jason should try it anyway. In case.

Medical supplies. Tim and Damian hadn't known where they were going, not really. They could be hurt. They could be half starved if there was no food. Jason didn't want to scare Dick. But he couldn't just not be prepared for wounded brothers so he could shelter Dick. (There was another possibility concerning what might have happened to Tim and Damian, but that scared him too much to consider.)

Should Dick even be there? If Tim and Damian were hurt… Jason might need help. Dick had basic first aid knowledge. It could come in handy. Yes. Dick should be there. He should be warned, and he should be there. If they were hurt, Jason could take them to one of the spare bedrooms by the emergency bedroom (it was located right next to a bathroom with extra medical supplies.)

There was plenty of room in the bedroom to store both boys, and with all the medical supplies in the bathroom, they should be fine… maybe Jason should be ordering medical supplies. If they were in critical condition and there were no appropriate medical supplies in the house, was Jason willing to take them to a hospital? What was the worst that could happen? What might become of Dick? Would he be hidden in the house or played off as some random orphan they were taking care of?

Jason sighed, Dick rising and falling from his position on his older brother's chest. He wasn't in any condition to think about stuff like this. He was still seeing green eat at the corners of his vision and his heartbeat was still too fast… and he couldn't sleep. He wasn't in the best condition to think, either. But he had to. And Dick helped.

If Tim and Damian were too hurt, they'd just have to go to a hospital. There was no way around it. Maybe Leslie was here. Maybe Jason would just think up a story for the doctors.

The first thing he'd do (after breakfast) was check the clock. If there were medical supplies in the cave, that would solve some problems for sure. If not… there was no reason for Tim and Damian to be hurt. Starving, maybe. Maybe in need of an IV. He could always drive to the hospital. But there wasn't a great enough risk of danger to order in extra supplies and risk blowing their cover. Bruce's instructions, still useful in any universe it appeared.

Yay Bruce.

Jason traced warriors and death in the ceiling until the sun raised hand against the darkness and pierced the curtains, lying in obtrusive stripes across the bed.

Jason's arm twitched, half asleep from the eight-year-old atop it and rose up to ruffle Dick's thick black hair.

"Hey. Hey, kid. Rise and shine. Up and at em."

Dick yawned, turned over, and sat up. Smiled. "Hello, Jason. Are you not sick anymore?"

"Heya kid. I'm feeling alot better. You ready to finish up getting ready for your brothers?"

Dick's grin almost split his face. "Yeah!"

Jason pulled Dick into his lap and swung his legs off the bed, Dick's arms wrapping around his brother's neck as his head tilted back. Jason lumbered out of bed, stretching out his back as he staggered over to the bathroom. "Why don't you use this bathroom, kid? I'll head over and use other Dick's. It'll be faster that way."

Dick gave him an inquisitive glance.

"Yes, I'm sure Dick wouldn't mind. Brothers, remember? Brother's use each other's stuff without asking. Now scram. We can have pancakes before we start having to feed Damian. It'll be nice. See ya in a few."

Jason sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he moved into Dick's room. As soon as the room's door was shut, he promptly started searching the room top to bottom. If this Dick was like the one Jason knew… yes. Pictures. Lots of pictures. More pictures than anyone could need, of the entire family… Jason. 12, 13, 14, 15…. 16. Not dead. 17, 18, 19… alive. Alive and smiling and well… there was Tim. They'd been a whole family here. What could that have been like…

There was a tightness to young Jason's eyes, though. Not dead perhaps, but strained somehow. Perhaps he'd run away from the family? Pictures of Tim began overwhelming Jason's. Was this it? Jason was just destined to be apart from his family? No. No, Jason never believed in destiny. Nothing controlled Jason but himself. And occasional bouts of Pit craze.

Putting the book back where he'd found it, Jason rose to his feet. He'd do whatever was right. Whatever helped Dick. No transcendent force could get in his way. He was Jason Todd. Death couldn't stop him. What chance did a little thing like destiny have?

Following a trip back to his own bathroom (no way was he using Dick's girly deodorant) he walked into the kitchen. Dick glanced up at him, already making pancakes, and flashed a smile. Still cautious. Still worried about Jason.

"I'll be okay, kiddo."

"'Kay, Chicken."

Jason ducked his head and snorted quietly. He was getting teased for that name for sure. He'd have to mention it to Replacement and Demon Spawn before Dick brought it up in front of them…

"Jason?"

"Yep?"

"Umm… will this stain if I get it on stuff?"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "What, the syrup?"

"Yeah… I haven't had any before and, um…"

"Nah, it'll be cool. This stuff all washes. Besides, B's a billionaire. He can replace anything that gets broke. Trust me, I've broken all kinds of stuff. Vases, statues, chandeliers, valuable plates… it's part of having kids. Stuff gets broke. Whatever you manage to do with syrup (and I don't think anything'll happen) can't touch the stuff I've come up with!"

Dick stared in shock at the news of such irreverent exploits.

"And that's nothing compared to what Damian did! When he came to the manor he took a sword to the bushes and…" and that was not something normal kids did... Um... "Aaaaand… well, you see. It was a family heirloom. The sword. An ordinary heirloom. And Damian just kinda: whacked at the bushes in the front lawn, you know the ones that look like animals? The ones Alfred made look like animals? Damian totally whacked at those. It was pretty funny. Damian wasn't trying to do anything wrong, see, he didn't know it was wrong, cause where he came from in… um, that is, I mean, they didn't have many bushes where he came from, in Arabia, so he couldn't have known about how to treat bushes, right?"

Dick nodded slowly. Jason quickly made resolution to be much more careful about what he told Dick about their family.

Jason stood up and clapped his hands together, as Dick resumed plowing through his pancakes. Kid didn't eat a whole lot. "So, do you think those posters have finished drying by now?"

"Yes, Jason."

"Great! When you finish we can put those up and in the meantime… I'm gonna go check Bruce's study for something, okay? You finish up, and I'll be right back. We can put those things up together."

Dick smiled. "I'd like that, Jason."

"Great! So would I. See you in a sec."

Clock, clock. Grandfather clock. 10:47... Already at 10:47, not moving. Interesting. Jason tugged at the piece of machinery. Nothing happened. He put his back into it. The clock shifted away from the wall. Nothing but the smooth expanse of plaster. Jason knocked at it and felt along for any signs of it's being able to slide away. Nothing.

Here was a bet that this Bruce always kept the clock at 10:47 because symbolism even if it didn't lead to the Batcave.

Sighing, Jason dropped his head against the wall. So. No Batman. No Batcave. Not a surprise, but disappointing. Well, he had posters to tape. Tim would be here tomorrow. If all went well, he only had one more day to be responsible for a kid. After that… he could leave.