Chapter 22

Tim reached up and slowly wiped the water from his eyes. Dick spun in his arms and tried to suppress a laugh that came out as a snorting giggle. Dick's small hands helped wipe the water off Tim's face.

"Jason says this is called a Water Battle of Awesomeness."

"No helping the enemy, kid!" Jason tossed a smaller water gun forward, which Dick barely managed to catch. Pointing it at Tim, he tilted his head in question.

Tim grinned, sighing inside, and put the kid on the ground. "Go for it."

Tim had now been sprayed two times in one battle, which was more than he usually got. He noted bemusedly and regretfully that there were no sniper rifles in the pile. Running away from Dick he skidded under Jason's stream to grab two long thin water guns, and fired at both Dick and Jason.

The real question was Damian. Back home, Damian only participated to prove his superiority as 'the true heir of the house of Wayne', but right now they couldn't really have an actual competition. Tim wasn't sure that Damian would be willing to participate in what was really a no-stakes and rather undignified game.

Damian hesitated, uncomfortable in the doorway. Dick glanced over at him. Tim dodged Jason's fire (the man was working with two guns, of course) and dropped into a roll to return fire. They'd have to be careful with what acrobatics they allowed Dick to see.

Dick's head tilted to the side, and he said something: Tim couldn't see what, and since Dick's back was to him he couldn't read his lips. Jason squirted him in the face: Tim was too distracted.

Damian sighed, nodded, and went to grab the largest water gun possible.

"Observe how a real man handles these miscreants, Richard!" Damian's yell resonated across the front yard of Wayne Manor as he charged Tim and Jason. An instinctual pact was created and four guns were immediately pointed at the charging mini ninja. Damian never stopped firing his oversized water gun, but he did use it to shield himself. He took hits. Obviously. Damian's strategy was to get everyone wetter than they got him, once he really started getting involved in a water fight. This, obviously, constituted a victory. Tim was determined not to let him have that victory.

Water slammed into the back of his head. Glaring he spun to his right. This was why he didn't make peace treaties with Jason. Water slammed into his back and Tim was reminded of why you didn't forget about Dick Grayson. Water slammed into his face and stomach and Tim decided that if any more brothers started teaming up on him he was moving to the Phantom Zone.

Dick giggled and sprayed at Jason with his single gun, and Jason hopped to the side, allowing some to hit.

Jason never let anyone hit him.

Tim leaped away from Damian's attack and charged. Usually, he was a sniper. Today, Damian was going down and he didn't care about the cost. Not that he wouldn't dodge. Damian was very limited in having only one gun and not being able to use his krav maga kicks to maneuver his opponent into position.

All in all, Tim had a good time. He purposely tried not to remember Dick's unique approach to Water Fights.

Juggling four water guns to use at once might have made him a vulnerable target on the field, but it never failed to make someone laugh.

"Very well, we are now alone. Todd, explain yourself. And should you prove false, no force on this or any other Earth shall save you from my wrath." Damian Wayne's subdued but unyielding voice resonated in the corners of the kitchen, echoing the unspoken sentiments of Tim Drake and settling very sourly in Jason Todd's ears.

Dick had been sent to the living room draw many pictures of cats with strict instructions to stay there except in case of an emergency. (Damian had promised to give him pointers on his drawings.) The Batboys were alone to prepare soup and talk strategy.

"He's from some other world. His Bruce is evil. I haven't seen anything to make me think 'supervillain', but he's as bad as one and he's got something in Dick's head. Some things just set off 'pain attacks'. His last name. Learning to fight. Remembering his past. Even just questioning 'Daddy', I think. I don't know what all sets him off yet."

"Why should we believe you?" Tim's voice hung in the room like crystals. Cold, emotionless and not particularly inclined to change.

"Why not? What is there to disbelieve?" Todd spread his hands to his sides, palms outward, and glared at Drake for his insolence. "Ask him who 'Daddy' is. What he wants from Dick. Ask the kid what he thinks about himself!" Damian had an uncomfortable flashback to their kitchen conversation.

"Give us evidence. Give us evidence that this 'Daddy' is Bruce and not a shapeshifter, telepath, alien… isn't Hush! Why should we believe that this monster is Bruce?"

"Why should we not believe that you have done this to Grayson?" Damian demanded. "We do not know if Drake's estimates for the passage of time were correct. You could have brainwashed him or threatened him into-"

"Even Jason," Drake interrupted, tone final, unyielding, "at his very worst would never do this to an innocent child."

"He may not be 'innocent'." Damian's quiet tone belied a bubbling righteous rage. "Suppose he is Robin and this is revenge."

"He's not Robin," Drake responded. "He doesn't have the muscular structure for it. And he can't be newly Robin, either, because his emotions are wrong for having just lost his parents." Drake turned his gaze back to Todd. "What evidence do you have that Bruce would do this."

"What makes you think he wouldn't?" Venom dripped from Todd's tone and melted through the tiles. "Obsessive control freak who reshapes children to fit his demented desires, demands total perfection and gives disproportionate punishments when those desires aren't met WHO DOES THAT REMIND YOU OF?"

"Not Father!" Damian threw his prepubescent voice at Todd and wished it was bigger, big enough to dispel any doubts and fears, big enough to frighten anyone who dared wish them harm into submission. He wished it was the voice of his father. But for all Damian's imitations and masquerades, he did not truly have the voice of his father.

"I need evidence, Jason," Drake said quietly. "Real, solid evidence."

"What do you want me to say, Replacement? I have a description from the kid that nails Bruce to the wall, I have a name, I have the names of B's parents… short of a DNA test, which we aren't equipped for since there's no Batman or Batcave in this universe, I don't know what to tell you."

Drake ducked his head slightly, eyes narrowing. The detective in him could not condemn Father without conclusive evidence. Damian wished his reasons for disbelief were as honorable. Surely Father would be ashamed to see Damian so swayed by emotion.

"I don't suppose it matters," Drake said, finally. "Not yet, anyway. He's been hurt by someone. I believe that. Bruce. Hush, whoever it was… the effects are the same. When we find a way back to our own universe we'll work through the logistics of returning him to the proper guardians and incarcerating the proper villains." Drake focused in on Todd. "I don't suppose you happen to have a plan on how to get back yet."

"Nope." The 'P' popped like a balloon and Todd's shoulders relaxed as he leaned back onto his heels. Once this 'devil-may-care' attitude had fooled Damian into believing the man had no true priorities: perhaps even lacked the ability to grasp meaningfull risk. Whoever else the performance might fool, it no longer held any sway over Damian.

"There's no superheroes here, no supervillains, no interdimensionaly traveling aliens or portals: no aliens at all that've been discovered. 'Course this is all say of the internet. I've been a bit too occupied with Golden Boy Jr to do any real investigations."

Drake crooked his forefinger and pressed it to his mouth as he often did when in thought. "Where are the Waynes? Do we know what happened to them?"

"Officially, they took a little family vacation to some nice secluded islands. Family roster is the same here as there, except I'm just a black sheep, not a zombie. Unofficially… may or may not be off across the universe by whatever brought us here. Dick and I have been holeing up while we wait for 'em to be due to get 'back.

I can't find any recent activity on 'em and I can't contact them, which makes it a pretty good guess that they aren't in this dimension anymore. We may have to figure out a cover story if they stay gone."

"What about Barbara? She might recognize us."

"Not here. I did a search on all our allies." Todd leaned against the counter and made overly exaggerated motions with his hands. "She never got shot. With no Batman, she went through with being a police officer, not a vigilante. Currently, she is conducting an overseas international investigation. Being a normal cop wasn't enough for her. Sur-prise ."

"Fatgirl?" Damian, annoyed and having been faking extreme boredom for as long as he was left out of the conversation, decided to steal Drake's opportunity to inquire into his girlfriend. Take that, Drake.

"Bout' what you'd expect. Her dad's a crook. She lives with her mom and does high schooler stuff just like in our world. If we leave we have to look out for her. She's not gone, as far as I know. Could ID us."

It was at this point that Damian came up with a relevant question to contribute, and he was proud to have thought of it before Drake.

"Todd, we face a quandary." Drake was rolling his eyes at the Heir to the Demon's 'smugness' but he had not thought of this question so Damian was clearly superior to him in all ways, particularly in the arena of intelligence. "It appears that we have all been teleported and exchanged, though with no regard to location. I, Grayson, yourself, and Drake have all been displaced, as have our counterparts here. Statistically, it stands to reason that we are only being transported if our double, somewhere, is being transported as well. If that is so, assuming this world's Bruce Wayne is indeed displaced, why has Father not disappeared?"

Drake and Todd exchanged glances. Damian puffed up with pride. And Drake insisted he could not 'contribute to any rational conversation'.

"Well… I did see Bruce as we were leaving, on screen." Drake ventured. "He wasn't disappearing. But since Dick came from an unrelated universe to ours and this one, either Bruce was transported from an entirely different universe, or we just normally exchange with someone. Not always."

"Have you yet checked the clock?" Damian burst back into the conversation, masterfully taking control and rerouting it in whatever direction he chose.

"Yep. Nothin but plaster."

Damian scowled. If there was no Batman here, there would be no Batcave, but that did not mean he was pleased to hear of it. He would investigate himself.

"The manor's not quite the same either. They didn't have to renovate with supervillains in mind, so things'r in the wrong places. I haven't explored it all yet. Figured I'd wait for some more munchkins to come lend big bro a helping hand."

Damian was about to inform Todd of exactly what he would do to his hand (it involved katanas and sharks) when Drake interjected, in the annoying manner Damian had come to expect of him. "Guys. We need to explore and get our bearings. If this world doesn't have our technology, we either have to invent it or wait for rescue. Jason, were we gone for a week?"

"Yep."

"Then according to our projections, the storm should've passed by now, assuming time passes the same here as there. That's enough time for people to begin looking for us, and they should know what happened. That's not a good sign. They should've tracked us down by now."

"Perhaps a new supervillain is threatening Earth."

"Don't tell me Bruce wouldn't do everything possible to find us, even then." Drake sighed, ran a hand through his hair, and seemed to come to a decision.

"We're on our own. Does Dick know our identities?"

"No, and we're not telling him. He couldn't keep the secret, though not for lack of trying, and we'll just scare him."

"Fine. We'll keep that up. Right now, we need to make food." Drake looked up suddenly. "By the way, what happened to Alfred?"

Todd's face betrayed no emotion. "Age. They don't have the same tech here as at home, or medicine either. He's dead."

This should not have hurt. It was not Damian's Pennyworth. But Damian had a sudden urge to run to the backyard and discover if Pennyworth had taken Todd's old burial ground. "If we do not wish Richard to take the same path by starvation we had best prepare some sustenance."

Drake wheeled on him, eyes deep in emotion. "How can you be that heartless, you little… is that really the first thing you think of?"

"If you are going to be overcome by emotions for a man you never knew, Drake, then you are more pathetic than I had imagined." Damian would not be overcome. Damian could not… not for a man he didn't know. It was not the kind of weakness Mother or Father allowed. He purposefully ignored the fact that it was exactly the kind of thing Grayson would allow. If only he were here. Nevertheless, he was not. And Damian was well enough acquainted with both universes to now know that Richard could not be interchanged with Grayson no matter Damian's feelings on the matter. Richard was a broken child, and to treat him otherwise was to demean the pain and experience of either Dick Grayson Damian had come to cherish.

"Dinner," Tim leaned across the couch's armrest, dropping his head near Dick's, "is served."

Startled, Dick squirmed around, and beamed at his brother. "Hi, Tim! Look! I made a kitty that looks like you!"

Tim resisted the urge to squint and instead skipped to immediately lauding Dick's work. "Aw, really! Dick that was so nice of you! Look, even his eyes are the right color!"

Dick beamed proudly and squirmed under the praise. "Awww, umm, thanks Tim! It made me very happy to draw, 'cause I like drawing you 'cause you're awesome."

Tim straightened, pulling his face into a serious mask, and hopped into ramrod position. "My Lord, may I escort you to the dining room?"

Dick giggled. "I'm not anybody's Lord. I"m a little kid! And you're worth way more than me!"

"I beg to respectfully disagree."

Dick pulled a face of skepticism, as if he had been informed that eating broccoli was, in fact, worth the nutrients.

"Would you like a piggyback ride, my Lord?" Tim knelt and swept his hands to the side, and Dick laughed, put down his pencil, and nodded vigorously.

"Uh huh!" Hopping over to Tim, he carefully positioned his arms around the older boy's chest, draping his arms low over Tim's shoulders to avoid choking him.

Tim clambered off, and Dick giggled from his perch behind him. "This is funny, Tim, because a little bit ago Jason was carrying you! I know 'cause I helped him! I was a spotter! I was really helpful! Jason said so!"

Tim had some definite suspicions about how helpful Dick had really been, but saw no reason to share them. "Well, I'm glad I was in such good hands."

"Tim, is it okay if I ask you a question?"

"Uh huh."

"Do you have new rules for me yet?"

"What are Jason's rules?"

"Well, I can't say sorry for anything that isn't one of Jason's rules. I'm allowed to learn kar-a-tee," Dick shifted uncomfortably on Tim's back, "I go to bed at 8:00 PM, I'm not allowed to say that I'm bad, if we're in danger for some reason I should let Jason take care of me and don't do anything stupid."

Tim bumped Dick higher on his back, and responded with a "Well, those seem like good rules to me." And they did. They didn't quite cover all possible contingencies, but Tim was aware that Jason hadn't exactly been with Dick long, and that there was only so much an eight year old could remember. And the fact that they were so good… Jason didn't automatically love all kids. He'd shot Damian. To be fair, pretty much anyone would be inclined to shoot Damian after meeting the brat, but still. He'd beat Tim almost to death. This was a copy of someone Jason hated, someone he resented for being too perfect and indirectly causing his death through the impossible standards he'd set.

Tim realized that this Dick was not related to anything that happened in their world. But Jason was crazy. He didn't deal well with things that reminded him of his past. He tended to explode them.

Maybe he wouldn't have killed Dick… but Tim couldn't quite get behind him going to such lengths to care for him either. There had to be a motive. Tim was a detective. He would find it. But first, they had to eat mansaf. Without lamb, because THANK YOU DAMIAN, you're SO HELPFUL! It wasn't enough that they had to eat (and prepare!) food for a feast, they couldn't even include the good part: blasted vegetarians. Although, to be fair, even if they had looked extensively, there might not have been frozen lamb just lying around.

Tim contended that it was also unfair that Damian could still force his food on them when the lamb was actually important and mansaf could take 8 hours to make. Tim didn't know what Damian did to force the thing to cook so fast, but he was half convinced Talia had a class in 'how to make the worst dishes ever in no time at all to annoy your family'. That, or she taught some kind of substitute ingredients that could 'prepare an elegant dish' and still leave time to bake quickly if pressed for time, like if the Batfamily was attacking. Or it was just another unexplained bat thing that defied all known laws of physics.

The point was, Damian was a jerk.

"Hey'ya, kiddo." Jason tilted onto his back two chair legs (appeal to empathy: effort to be relatable) and grinned at Dick. Dick giggled and waved. (Insecurity, abashment, unwilling to instigate conversation.)

Tim crouched to let Dick slide off, and Dick's bare feet quickly pattered across the floor. He immediately filed away that Dick would take body language as orders.

"Where do I sit?"

"Here." Damian was asserting dominance and keeping Dick away from Jason. Tim wondered if Jason's allowance of said keep-away was a sign that it was unnecessary. But Jason was unhinged. It was for the best.

Dick obeyed happily and settled in beside Damian, and Tim moved to his other side.

"Ummm… does everybody have new rules for me?"

Dick glanced around hopefully, and while Tim knew Damian was itching to inform Dick that there were no rules whatsoever, he did remember when he first became a member of the family. Used to Jack and Janet's rules, he'd been completely unsettled by Wayne Manor.

Tim had been used to having rules for how he could eat, talk, walk, dress, use his free time, everything . And then there had been Wayne manor. Now Robin had made sense: Batman was a control freak, and Robin needed to do everything to perfection, especially after Jason Todd. But as structured as Robin had been, Tim Drake had been lost. Because Batman just didn't love Tim Drake the way he loved Robin. Bruce Wayne loved Tim, and because Bruce Wayne was a mask, it was a very shallow love indeed.

And since the love was shallow, he hadn't cared what Tim did. There were rules of etiquette, of course, (and Alfred would enforce those with the fury of a thousand Batmen), but it wasn't the same.

Maybe they wouldn't be 'Daddy', but they couldn't just not give Dick anything to hold onto, either. People didn't do well with too few rules. Jason was hard enough proof of that.

"Well, I think we're gonna keep Jason's rules, 'cause they were so good," (Dick liked Jason, so Tim's reassurance of the man would help keep them on Dick's good side), "and we'll see how things go from there!"

Dick nodded vigorously, and grinned. "Okay! I'll do everything really well - I mean I'll do my best, it'll be pretty terrible, but I promise to try super hard." Dick's posture had suddenly shrunk from excited to scared, defensive, apologetic, and Tim was about to talk when Jason beat him to it.

"Hey, you'll do great kid." Jason was frowning, and Tim wondered at the shift in his emotions. Before he'd been constantly projecting happiness around Dick; this seriousness was something new.

"You're gonna try hard, and you're gonna mess up, and that's okay, 'cause you're gonna learn. Capish, squirt?"

Dick glanced up and a small smile played at his lips. "Capish, Jason."

"Good stuff. Now pass the tater tots, 'cause I ate mine already and Damian gets pokey if I take his."

Tim thought 'pokey' was an interesting way to describe the time Damian had thrown his karambit at Jason's face last Thanksgiving dinner.

From the look on Damian's face, he also thought 'pokey' was an understatement and looked inclined to reimpress the truth of his 'unparalleled skill and accuracy' upon Jason once more. Around Dick, this could not be allowed to happen.

Tim passed the tater tots.

"Jason!" Jason turned to look behind him, a grin already plastering itself to his face.

"Dickie bird. You doin' pretty good?"

"Uh, huh Jason! Tim and Damian are here, and I'm so happy! You already knew that! I'm saying silly things, Jason, cause I'm sosososo happy ! They liked our banner and they liked their food, and they liked their movie-" gasp "Wait! We made the house special for Tim and Damian, but nobody made it special for you!"

Aw kid. If this was going where Jason thought it was he was gonna wring Daddy's misbegotten neck …

"I'm sorry, Jason! I shoulda not been so scared at first and I…"

Jason dropped to his heels and stared the kid deep in the eye. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You should not be sorry for being scared. You should not be sorry for not knowing what was going on and not doing anything: you didn't even know who I was. You couldn't have known. That. Isn't. Your. Fault."

Dick smiled a little, watery eyes holding Jason's own as he shifted his weight to his toes. "Thanks, Chicken. You're a great big brother."

Jason grinned, eyes tight, and ruffled Dick's hair. "Well, I learned from the best." He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth: they laid sour on his tongue and dissonant in his ears, and everything in him rebelled at how untrue they were but he'd said it and maybe it would make Dick feel better.

"You have two big brothers?"

"Just the one."

Dick's head tilted as he tried to reconcile himself with being a good big brother (something Damian would probably be better at convincing Dick of than Jason) and Jason tugged Dick's hand to pull him toward the others.

"Come on, Shortstack. They've probably finished dishes by now." Dick's pattering steps fell into pace beside Jason.

"Chicken?"

"Yeah?"

"I think they liked the Water Battle of Awesomeness."

"Me too, Dickie Bird."