Bruce watched Dick and Tim spar from across the cave floor. He and Clark were seated at the Batcomputer but had taken a break, and found themselves watching the boys in their natural habitat. Dickwas coaching Tim on how to spring-roll into a 2-roll flip safely. Dick claimed that it was safer than a triple quad flip and it was surprising enough to usually get your attacker off you or at least earn some distance from them. He had his hand on Tim's lower back and his other hand free to catch or stabilize Tim if he tumbled out of the flip. Damian was practicing katana stances and Jason was working out closer to Bruce; benching and squatting reps of 10. He spotted Jason starting at 250 lbs and knew he'd only increased it from there.

Bruce was hesitant to let the boys train as if nothing was amiss. It wasn't that he didn't trust Dick but more so that he didn't trust whatever harsh training regimen and maneuvers the Court had instilled in Dick. He understood how hard it was to refrain from harsher and more lethal movements in the moment; one small movement or too close of a call could lead the body to act before the mind could approve the action. He'd had to train it out of himself after training with the League of Shadows and then had to help Damian unlearn his deadly habits as well. He refrained from saying anything in an attempt to keep the peace with Dick after their discussion a few nights ago.

There never seemed to be a break between all the evidence and connections between Rylander, Luthor, and Cobb, and Dick himself. Bruce felt like he was being pulled in 3 or 4 different directions at any time. He wanted to go after Cobb but that would take away from Dick. But if he went after Cobb he could mitigate any future harm to Dick. He wanted to pursue Luthor and Rylander, but that might force Cobb to react and lash out at Dick before he was fully recovered as well. He wanted to focus on Dick solely but it wasn't a simple process of healing. No one knew when Dick would be well and okay. Even when his memories and full faculties returned, Bruce wasn't sure how well Dick would be. He might face even more trauma with the full brunt of what he'd suffered through. Bruce still wasn't even sure what Dick had gone through or done under the Court's control. Cobb had loved playing mind games and overly implied that Dick had taken more than 1 life, but Bruce knew that Cobb might have been playing with him. He was more than aware that a murder in Dick's hands might just apply to another talon. The soldiers of the Court could revive and regenerate from even a severed head, if held together, if they were fully topped off on their strange electrum.

In the back of his mind, Bruce knew he had to make sure that he got Dick and some blood samples down to Star Labs or Lucious so that they could confirm if there were any new developments with Dick's biology. It was difficult to tell as they didn't want to force any tests on him besides the basic ones when they got him home, but Brue knew that Dick had an uncertain future ahead of him if he could really generate electrum as easily as red blood cells. They had to find out everything that this meant for Dick-in a wide scope of things: how did this affect his chances of having kids, or was it even possible to die? Bruce wondered all sorts of heart-wrenching things every day. He couldn't stop himself, but this morning alone he worried about whether or not they had the right equipment to do a blood transfusion; if Dick was in need.

Clark laughed when Dick pretended to let go of Tim, letting the younger boy wobble viciously.

"Dick" Tim snapped, forcing a barking laughter out of Dick.

Dick's hands quickly clamped back onto Tim's torso and Bruce couldn't hold the way he tensed at the sharp, fast movement. He must have jerked just enough in his seat because Dick looked up momentarily. Bruce could feel Clark's eyes on his from his periphery. The journalist had flown over for the night to reconnect with Bruce and go over some of the League updates that he couldn't get just from checking their digital database. Apparently, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, and the Flash were okay and recovering from their individual crime-fighting expeditions. Bruce was still convinced that the criminal sightings and the wild goose hunts they were each sent after were still ultimately a distraction caused by Cobb or Luthor. He suspected there was a timeline or plan in progress that he wasn't aware of, and they were trying to buy themselves more time to essentially ensure their vendettas succeeded. He was due for a League meeting at the Watch Tower next month but wanted to get a first-hand account of what Clark had thought of it all. While he, Superman, and Wonder Woman ran the Justice League together, Clark had become the default head of the League while Batman was captive and Womerwoman was dealing with rogue shipments of Kryptonite.

Furthest away, Bruce spotted Damian winding down, most likely preparing to head upstairs for a bit. Under Alfred's insistence, he'd started to catch up on his missed schoolwork online. He was splitting his days between home and patrol, trying not to let Dick know how much school he had missed and how much work had piled up. Bruce often agreed that Damian was far beyond the intellectual capacity of his average age and grade class, but knew that more than half of it was about instilling a sense of normalcy for Damian. It was also important to give his civilian identity a buffer that, being seen at school and in public, afforded. Jason loudly racked his weights and climbed off the bench press with more huffs than necessary.

"How are you feeling by the way? We haven't gotten a chance to really talk about it all"

Bruce channeled his inner Bat, "And we won't"

"Bruce you were held captive, with all your children and a mercenary, for quite a long time"

"I know…I was there"

When Bruce refused to turn his head and meet Clark's gaze, the alien leaned in closer to the Bat, "You know" he said lightly, "I know that you and the boys are worried about Dick's new…status, but think of it this way"

Bruce looked at Clark expectantly, "You and Alfred won't have to fix up Dick as much after missions now that his body can help him recuperate faster" Clark offered with a cheerful grin, "That might cut down on all the strange medicals bill that Alfred had to hide from CPS when Dick was a kid"

Bruce gave Clark a flat unamused look, "Do me a favor and get a better sense of humor" he grumbled looking away. Clark stood and stretched before turning back to the screen before him, seeing as how most of the boys were wrapping up their own activities. He leaned back over, "Do me a favor and buy one" he responded snidefully cheerful.

Jason spotted Clark giving Bruce an earful and vaguely wondered what was being said to leave such a flat, irritated look on Bruce's face. He was tempted to go over and interject himself into the conversation when he saw Tim and Dick separating as well. They hadn't gotten very far in their private practice but Dick always reminded whoever he was training that if they weren't born flipping and flinging themselves all over, then half of the training would be getting comfortable with the motion of the maneuver. Despite all of Dick's goals and his ridiculous self-righteousness Jason mildly wondered if Dick would ever leave the vigilante life behind and chose something 'd be a great teacher, Jason mused. He loved kids and was basically born with the soul of a fun uncle. Scratch that, the dude basically had ovaries.

Dick said something to Tim that looked like it was meant to be comforting but Tim scowled and snatched the towel from Dick before stomping off to the cave showers. Jason made his way over, drying off his own neck and chest, "Is the replacement mad that he can't bend around like a ferret?" Jason teased.

Dick frowned at Jason's nickname, "Naw, he's upset that I don't take training more seriously. He wants to be able to throw in a multiple flip move with his usual attack repertoire but doesn't like how slow I'm taking it"

Jason shrugged, "So speed it up"

Dick shook his head and sat down against the mats to stretch out and release any tension before he showered, "Yea, sure and risk Tim snapping his neck because he fell at a weird angle. I'll take an attitude over no brother"

"We could just throw him in the pit" Jason suggested, leaning onto one hip.

Dick glared mutinously, "Joking, joking" Jason raised his hands. He looked down at Dick and watched him lean forward to touch his toes before back bending and dropping his feet to the ground, severely arching his back in a way that would only ever feel good to Dick-the ferret with a spine made of cartilage. He couldn't help but notice how very few people were okay with sitting when he stood over them. Looking down at how Dick was collapsed at his feet in odd angeled positions made it hard to ignore how vulnerable the other man made himself around so few individuals. He knew his personality and height didn't help but even Tim and Damian stood most of the time, preferring as much height on their side when faced with Jason's height hulking over them. He didn't take it personally, all vigilantes had some kind of defense mechanism built into their day-to-day responses and reactions; except Dick apparently. Seeing how comfortable Dick was around him made him want to smile, but he didn't. He appreciated how Dick trusted him so instinctively that there wasn't the usual little voice in the back of his head triggering the 'threat' alarm. It was a serious possibility that Dick just smothered the instinct in an effort to portray this all to Jason, God knows the emotional dope always liked to make sure, he, the others, Alfred, and Bruce felt content and secure.

Eventually, Dick noticed that Jason was still there, watching him decompress, and looked up at him quizzically, "What's up Jaybird?"

Jason tried not to frown at the nickname. Dick almost never used their formal names but he had a special name for everyone that he used when he wanted to encourage them to open up; let their guard down. Jason leaned sideways at the edge of the mats as Dick unwound himself and sat cross-legged like a child, looking up at his with an innocently cocked head.

Jason took a breath knowing that he'd either chicken out or force it out right now, "I know what you did"

For a second Dick's breath seemed to halt and Jason wanted to curse as he watched his brother stutter. He should have realized that with everything happening, Dick might misunderstand what he was referring to.

He lowered his voice and quickly rephrased, "I-I know what you did to the Joker I mean"

Jason's amendment didn't help but he did see Dick's eyes flash with a knowing clarity. Dick held his gaze for a moment before looking away and stretching his arm down to the mat over his head.

"Dick-"

"I heard you" Dick replied sternly, "And?"

Jason sputtered, "What do you mean and?" he mimicked Dick's tone.

Dick stopped and stared down Jason, "He hurt you and I took care of it. Bruce showed me how he wasn't okay with that and brought back the Joker. We're basically back at square 1, minus Talia dropping you in the pit"

Jason frowned, not appeased by Dick's recounting, "I want to know what happened, why'd you do that Dick? The cops shot you and almost ID you at the scene" he tugged his fingers through his hair in a frazzled manner.

Dick stopped up, "You know what happened already or you wouldn't have brought this up"

Jason shrugged, "Yea but-gah Dick, just tell me what the fuck you were thinking alright? You're the Goldenboy, the first Robin. You don't do that shit. You don't murder and kill"

Dick watched Jason calmly, "You're right I don't go around killing aimlessly. I have ended a life before but Bruce brought him back so what's done is done- but I don't go around wiping out lives"

"There is no way Bruce was chill with it" Dick tensed violently and his gaze shuddered like a blue cold front, "He wasn't" was all he said.

"Dick, you're not stupid, I need more, I-"

"You want me to explain it in a way that makes it easier for you to understand how I could ever hurt the Joker? After Bruce made us swear to never stray from true Justice?" Dick frowned, "He killed you, Jason, that's how" Dick looked away like he was trying to mask another emotion, maybe shame? "I'm not proud of it Jay, don't misread this, but you know what happened and why. That's all there is to it"

Jason stammered, "Dick" he tried again, "I-I mean you never even did this to Zuko. For your parents. I- I just don't get it, man"

Dick looked at the floor and shrugged, his cheeks seemed to heat up and redden, "I don't think I ever wanted Zuko dead, I just tracked him down because he caused my pain and I wanted it all to end. A 9-year-old with like 2 months of karate and mostly gymnastics training doesn't make the best decisions"

"But still" Jason trailed off.

"You don't get why I couldn't kill my parent's killer but I could for you? Someone I'd known for a few years at the time?"

Jason was speechless but remembered to nod.

Dick smiled sadly and stepped forward, engulfing Jason in a hug as if Jason was about to break down and cry, and Dick's hug was the only thing keeping him together, "Because" he said against Jason's neck, "My parents wouldn't have wanted his blood on my hands. They would've wanted me to live as carefree and happy as possible"

Dick pulled away and kept his hands on Jason's shoulder, looking up at him; just marginally, "But I know what you would've wanted"

Jason was speechless. Was Dick seriously saying that breaking Bruce's oath and religiously strict moral code all came down to the fact that he avenged Jason how he thought he wanted to be?

He felt stupidifed as Dick pulled away and made his way to the showers, giving Bruce and Clark a quick greeting. He felt muted in a way, like the indignation and anger that he wanted to feel; expected to feel…it just wasn't there. He knew that after Dick came back last year that there was a chance he may never get the old original Dick fully back, just like the old Jason wasn't the same young man that Dick saved from Arkham. But Jason wondered if the bits and pieces he was learning about Dick, even now, just proved that he didn't completely know the old Dick either.

He narrowed his eyes at the floor. Dick Fucking Grayson. Jason hated the guy. One minute he wanted his attention and the next he was regretting it because the guy managed to make even murder seem so fucking selfless.

Dick scrubbed furiously at his hair as he exited the shower. His hair was getting a little shaggy but Alfred insisted that he try growing it out, to see if he liked the longer look. Dick had teased that Alfred was trying to get him shacked up with a girl to boost his playboy persona but that had earned him a swat on the head. He made his way down the hallway in a pair of sweats but stopped when he spotted Damian in his bedroom, 3 doors down from his. Dick slowed his pace and took measured steps until he was able to lean slowly against the doorway. Damian was working on an art project, most likely for art class. He had a small piece of paper on his left and on his right there was a much larger canvas with a grid pattern for tracing and proportionally upscaling images.

Dick wrinkled his nose at the realization that math and art could be combined. Damian turned and spotted him, his eyes brightening at his presence, "Richard" Damian greeted.

Dick smiled and let himself in. He made his way over and bounced on Damian's bed, peering over his shoulder to see what he was working on. It was a picture of a man surrounded by birds, holding a book.

"I like this" Disk said lightly. The birds ranged from all sorts of natural warm browns to multi-colored peacock variations, "Is this for Mrs. Roelin's class?"

Damian's expression pinched slightly, "Yeah. We are supposed to choose a small painting that has our strengths and weaknesses in it, and enlarge it by at least 3 times the size"

Dick peered curiously at where Damian was sketching out the image across the larger canvas, "What is supposed to be your weakness on here? You're great at everything" he cocked his head.

Damian flushed slightly, "I struggle with facial features but excel with animals and scenery" he reported firmly.

Dick rested his chin on Damian's shoulder from behind "Hmmmmmm…I don't see it" he announced, "it's fine"

"Richard" Damian said exasperated, "I haven't even begun painting it yet"

Dick dismissed him with a wave of his hand, "But this isn't a real challenge 'cause the painting will come out fine. You need a real challenge"

Damian looked backward at Dick with serious curiosity, "Like what?"

Dick held his chin in his hand for a moment, thinking, "Like paint 3 paintings at once!"

Damian gave him a flat look and turned back to his work, "I'm busy Richard" Damian said, obviously trying to get his alone time back. Dick laughed and sat back on the bed. He slumped backwards looking around Damian's multicolored room.

"Do you want to come out with Wall, Roy, and I next weekend? I just wanna get out, might go to that park next to Iris's house"

Damian didn't look away from his sketching, "Thank you for the offer but I don't need to hang out with you and your same 3 friends"

"Hey" Dick protested, "I have way more than 3 friends"

Damian rolled his eyes, "Half of your friends are adopted siblings and the other half are teammates" Damian responded.

Dick frowned unwilling to admit the valid point, "Babs!" he pointed out, "We met in school"

"And you are now teammates" Damian reminded dryly.

Dick was about to say Artemis as well but that was almost the exact same situation as Barbara, "Ollie!" Dcik said smugly.

"Who?" Damian asked.

"Ollie, we met in like 9th grade and had almost every project together in 10th" he chuckled, "I don't think he ever came over to the manor, but he lives in that one huge neighborhood down the street; the Oaks, I think?"

Damian didn't respond and Dick spotted a strange pained expression smeared across his face. Damian wasn't sure how to proceed. Oliver Patrone was the boy who found Dick when he was in an amicable mood in Bludhaven. They'd gone to high school together but had been killed in a talon attack. Damian remembered seeing his address on his death certificate when Commissioner Gordon confirmed what happened with Batman.

"I haven't seen him in a while actually" Dick mused. He sat up with a startled expression on his face but Damian tried not to overreact as his eyes were still clear blue, "We had a weird conversation at some point actually. He was convinced I died but I swore it was a prank or something. Jason tried to convince my school I died one time when I got held up on a mission…" Dick trailed off. His eyes flickered to Damian who sat tersely in his chair. Dick sighed, "Bruce has probably ordered you guys not to say anything but I know something's up" he lamented, "I found some articles talking about my funeral but Bruce, as usual, refused to tell me what's up with it, and how it was resolved. I know it has to do with a mission but I won't get you guys into trouble and have Bruce on you for letting it slip" Dick sighed.

Damian wasn't sure how to respond. He was startled to learn that he and Bruce had already semi-confronted the elephant in the room but apparently nothing substantial had come from it. Damian didn't like the tone of Richard's acknowledgment of the issues. It sounded like he was determined to find out more. But at least he wasn't outwardly irritated with Damian for withholding anything.

"I just can't seem to piece all these weird things together" Dick muttered more to himself than to Damian, "It's like putting a puzzle together but starting with the very centerpiece. I know it's connected but literally none of it makes sense". He sighed again and flopped over, "It's all related…" he muttered angrily to himself. Suddenly DIck sat up with wide eyes. He seemed almost frozen with a certain realization. Damian was seconds away from speaking when Dick bounded off the bed and made his way down the hallway in record time.

"Richard!" Damian dropped his pencil and sprinted after him, knocking over the canvas in the process. He turned left sharply and ran face-first into his father. Bruce stumbled back slightly in surprise, and Damian tumbled to the floor completely. His head pounded from the sudden collision of his head to his Father's collarbone but he scrambled to his feet as best he could, ignoring the way the floor tilted ever so slightly.

"Damian" his shoulders were grabbed and Brice forced his way into his line of sight, "What's wrong?"

"Richard" Damian breathed frantically, his gaze searching down the hallway, knowing his brother was already gone. Bruce's brow furrowed in confusion. He looked past Damian into his bedroom before he followed his youngest son's gaze towards the empty hallway.

"What's wrong Damian? Something is wrong with Dick?"

Damian shook his head. He wasn't sure how to explain it all. His father knew the most out of all of them, but his throat had closed with worry and his headache was vicious and pounding, increased by hiding rising [anic and internal frantic energy. He grabbed back at his father, "Richard-he" he took a breath forcing some semblance of control into himself, "He's confused-and remembered Oliver-"

That was all he needed to say as Bruce let Damian go and ran down the hallway Damian had gestured to. He heard Damian call after him but his focus was already on his missing oldest. As he passed every bedroom, he shot his gaze out the window to make sure Dick hadn't secluded himself on the roof again. He knew that Dick's reality was reorienting itself and his memories returning would be some level of messy, but he hoped it was another miscommunication and that Dick simply needed space. He wasn't prepared, wasn't in the right mindset to battle his son and his newly distorted mindset. He needed Leslie or Dinah and now Damian was most likely telling the other boys, breaking down the recent calmness of the Manor. Bruce subconsciously noted how fortunate they were not to have the entire Young Justice team over again today. Too many thoughts were trying to make themselves the priority in his head as he sprinted down the narrowed hallways. He wasn't sure if he should find Dick first, or call Leslie, or bring Alfred. He wasn't sure what he would find when he found Dick. He wasn't sure if he would be the right person to center and stabilize his spiraling child. He was only sure that he had to make sure he was alright.

He made his way down the stairs and to the grandfather clock, noting that the kitchen and sunroom were also must be in the cave then. Dick had severe breakdowns and hallucinations in the cave more so than not, especially the first time they brought him home. Bruce had forced his way through the grandfather clock into the elevator. The moment the doors were open he was taking the stairs down 4 at a time until he found Dick. His son was bent over slightly in front of one of the smaller monitors of the Batcomputer. He was on his knees and looked like he'd just collapsed on the spot. On the monitor were Bruce's Court files of Ollie's death, Dick's unknown biological status, and recent notes of what Cobb and Deathstroke had divulged about Dick'scaptivity.

Dick's eyeballs were jumping from note to article, to scanned document, and back again so quickly that his blue irises almost resembled a running river. His lips were parted as if he were panting but his figure was as still as ever; hungrily consuming the digital evidence of cruelty in front of him as he knelt before the monitor like one would an alter to God. Bruce was relieved to find him, but wasn't sure how to proceed now. Would Dick blow up at him again for hiding the past 5 years of torture and the past year of rehabilitation?

Bruce quickly and quietly made his way to his kneeling son. He just now noticed that his hair was damp and he was only clad in thick sweatpants, "Dick?"

No response.

Bruce took a step closer until he was hovering just behind his oldest son. Distantly he registered the elevator being called back upstairs but his focus was before him, "Dick?"

Bruce could only see so much of his profile. He hoped it was a good sign that his eyes seemed to retain their natural blueish hue.

"Dick?" Bruce knelt down and reached out for Dick's broad bare shoulder.

"Dick" Bruce tried more firmly. He gripped him and applied just enough pressure to force Dick to turn to him but he had to consciously retain his gasp of surprise, cementing a stoic facade. Dick's left eye was still bright blue as ever but his left was a murky yellow that seemed to waver and glow under a film of unshed tears. For a moment they just watched each other and Bruce wasn't able to discern how aware Dick was. Bruce was about to try again or call for Alfred, or Leslie when Dick finally spoke. His tone was broken and ragged, raw to the point where Bruce had to withhold a shudder of his own.

"What did they do to me?" Dick uttered. The additional movement, no matter how subtle., seemed to be the tipping point for his tears and Bruce's heart shattered as thick clear trails made their way down Dick's cheeks. His spine wanted to splinter and his organs wanted to combust at seeing his child in so much turmoil and pain. Bruce wanted his son back, the kid who could never be hurt inside because his optimism was too great to truly be wrecked. All Bruce ever had to worry about were the physical damages; but Bruce couldn't bandage this wound very easily.

Neither one of them moved when suddenly Dick's face contorted and his lips tempered back into a snarl. He pulled back his fist, but stopped himself at the last minute, wavering with uncertainty. Before he could think of an alternate course of action Bruce reached out and yanked Dick to his chest. He smothered one hand in Dick's thick dark locks and the other wrapped around his broad back. He wanted to smother Dick in comfort and hide him from the world. The world didn't deserve Dick Grayson. Didn't severe any of his kids. His children had given everything and only received a fraction of that dedication back in happiness.

"I know Chum" Bruce murmured, pressing his face into Dick's hair.

"What did they do to me?" Dick's muffled voice broke against Bruce's chest again.

"I know, I-I'm sorry Chum. We'll figure it out"

"What did they do to me?" Despair laced every syllable and goosebumps prowled along Bruce's arms at the hollow tone his son begged with.

"I know, we'll handle it. They can't get you again"

"What did they do to me?" "What did they do to me?" Dick seemed unable to respond or say anything else, stuck in his battered mantra. Every word was broken apart by a wet hitch.

At some point, he heard the elevator ding again and footsteps pounded out before halting simultaneously. Bruce peered over his shoulder as much as could; without severely jostling Dick. Jason, Tim, Damian, and Alfred all stood at the top of the stairs watching with forlorn expressions of guilt and grief. Damian stood at the front with thin lips and a watery gaze.

For a while, all they did was stand there and watch Nightwing fall apart in Batman's arms. His mantra fell apart rather quickly between hiccups and smothered sobs before dimming to ragged wet breaths, and Bruce wasn't confident he was even still awake. Alfred slowly approached and gave Bruce a nod, letting him know that he asked Leslie to come already. Bruce hoped it was soon but the Wayne family doctor was known to travel quite a bit. He'd call her if anything worsened.

Bruce ran a hand up and down Dick's back, feeling the grooves of his spine tense and contract under his touch, "Dick?"

"Dick?"

Eventually, Dick responded pulling away slightly. His face was red and puffy and both eyes were alit with that unearthly gold of the Court's soldiers, "Dick?" Bruce tried again. Dick finally looked up at Bruce. His eyes held a heavy sedated look that told Bruce his mind was foggy and elsewhere at the moment. Bruce knew there were a multitude of things that may come next, but he was doing his best not to push Dick like last time and let him heal and break at his own pace, "Dick, can you stand? We're going to head to bed now, alright Chum?"

Dick nodded absently, his gaze falling to the enormous wet patch on Bruce's shirt. Bruce wasn't sure if Dick was embarrassed or if it had just caught his attention. He seemed to have wiped any clarity from his mind with an overabundance of emotional exhaustion. Bruce shifted his grip and carefully manhandled Dick to his feet. Dick swayed before leaning heavily on Bruce, letting the older man's hands guide him. One by one, each member of their family parted ways or helped Bruce get Dick back upstairs. Tim slept all the monitors before joining them back in the Manor. They went to turn left down the hallway that housed all the boys but Bruce stopped and led the way to the right, towards his own room. Along each step, he couldn't help but remember every time he'd had his own children seek safety with him in his bed. Dick had spent the most time with him, and Damian, the least. There were a handful of nights where Tim, Dick, and Jason had spent the night in Bruce's overly large master Bedroom but Bruce never had the heart to send them back to their own rooms, no matter their age. It was usually thanks to Dick, under his suggestion for a movie night and need for a plush mattress, that found them all in the biggest bedroom of Wayne Manor; although the last time had been when Tim was around 12 or 13 sadly.

Alfred opened the door and Bruce nudged Dick along the way before depositing his limp form unto the bed. He sunk into the feather-down mattress, and Bruce had to apply some slight pressure to his torso to get him to relax backward. His body and instincts took over, forcing his eyes to drift shut at the feel of the bed and blankets. Without much prompting, Damian crawled up onto the bed and curled under the covers with Dick. Tim followed, and then Jason, both choosing the other side and on top of the covers. No one spoke for a long time and Brue couldn't contain the heavy sigh that escaped him, "I'll make sure the Manor is undisturbed for the rest of tomorrow" Alfred informed the room quietly.

Bruce nodded his thanks before sliding down further into a chair beside the bedside table. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. No matter the tenseness of the room and the reason they were all huddled together and around their oldest brother, Bruce found immense comfort in having all of his sons together and unified for something so intimate. Dick and Damian seemed to be taking to the bed well, their eyes shut tight. Tim sat between Jason and Dick, his back resting against the headboard in a similar position to Jason.

"What happened Bruce?" Tim asked.

Bruce dragged his gaze to Tim, "Dick's been suspicious that we've been hiding something big for a bit now. A conversation with Damian triggered something in him and he went looking in the Batcomputer"

"He didn't go looking" Jason ground out. "He was confirming what he already suspected"

Bruce nodded, not having anything to respond with.

"It was Ollie" Damian mumbled. He lay tersely against Dick's chest, his head tucked under his brother's chin.

"Why the fuck did you bring him up?" Jason asked.

"I didn't" Damian shot back, "We were talking about his friends and the fact that they're all his teammates, and he brought up Ollie and, I'm unsure, something clicked for him or triggered something. He wouldn't respond to me and then suddenly he sprinted down to the cave". Damian refused to open his eyes as if that would lessen the severity of Dick's breakdown only moments ago.

Tim sighed letting his head thump back against the mahogany oak of Bruce's bedframe, "Leslie is in California right now. She said she could jump on a call as soon as we can but she can't make it back until tomorrow night, some special private surgery she's doing"

Bruce nodded again. He was trying to formulate a plan on what to do, who to contact, and what to have prepared when Dick woke up. Bruce leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. He only meant to rest his eyes and collect his thoughts but before he realized it, he'd fallen into one of the deepest rests he'd had since Dick was 17.

Dick saw too many faces to count. He couldn't tell if he was remembering from memories or if his brain had become an axial recognition system, but every face he saw morphed into the next as soon as he registered who it was. He saw Bruce and his brothers, he saw Slade and Wintergreen, he saw his grandfather and Lincoln. He saw Uncle Clark and Aunt Dinah, he saw Alfred and even that young girl from the Court who he'd killed at least once in lethal sparring matches. She was younger, maybe a year or two younger than Damian even. Her long brain hair was pleated in a simple braid and greasy from sweat and effort. Her eyes were brown and unassuming but her blood was just as red as the others'.

Dick was aware of his body before anything else. He felt the soft sheets beneath and on top of him, and felt the overly fluffed pillow encompassing his head, almost past his ears. He felt the satin sheets against his bare chest and stomach but felt clothing over his thighs. He opened his eyes and realized he was in Bruce's room. He stared up at the ceiling and realized what got him here little by little until he was staring up at the ceiling numbly. 5 years. He'd lost 5 years of his life to Cobb and the Court and the last year of healing hadn't even been worth it. They'd come back and proven how weak he was just so they could try again for another few months.

Tears pricked at his eyes as he fought for control over his breathing.

What was he? How could they do this to him? He'd even been stupid enough to pull his brothers in between him and the Court: a longer-than-century-century criminal organization. His friends and old teammates were trying to insert themselves back into danger for him-God he'd even gotten an old High school friend killed. Poor Ollie with his bright smile and friendly disposition was only dead now because he'd made the mistake of knowing Dick.

His body quaked at just the brief thought of Cobb and his voice. His grandfather's deep tone and timber seemed to make him want to fall to the ground and roll around in the weight of nothingness. Like his orders and tonality lifted all the grievances and responsibilities from his -Cobb's voice echoed in his 'll be fine,Lincoln's reassured.

Bruce and his brothers, even Slade had-Slade, Dick blanched and stared up at the ceiling in horror. Slade was there. He was there from the beginning. Horror turned to rage which gave way to shame and grief. The mercenary had shot him-killed even and handed him over to the Court. He wondered how much he was worth betraying for. How much money now sat in Deathstroke's offshore bank accounts because Dick wasn't worth undying loyalty and trust. His stomach turned over in anger and asshole, he thought as he realized how deftly he'd been played. Bruce had basically been right. Slade hadn't been truthful with him and he'd had a secret agenda the entire asshole!His fists clenched and his face contorted. Where was he now? Bruce and his brothers had gotten out, but there'd been no mention of Slade. Did he leave with the Court? Did he piss the Court off and maintain his status as a prisoner?

That didn't make sense. Dick wasn't sure of almost anything at the moment, but he was confident that Slade couldn't be held prisoner by anyone for very long. Dick studied the bedspread wondering what Slade's endgame was. He'd fucked up so badly. He'd given in so soon. Even now, he could barely remember the maze and the moments when his grandfather convinced him that stuff like waterboarding would help make him more durable, help solidify his inner strength in the name of the Court and his greater purpose. He wasn't even sure if he took much convincing or if he was just that weak and spineless. Looking back, obeying his grandfather felt the same as following through on a promise, it was strange and just as willful. All the beatings and electrocution, all the sparring matches, where he had to practice knees to the neck or elbows to the lower spine, it all felt like him, but he knew it wasn't. He'd never do those things! Ever!

For a long while he sat alone in Bruce's bed, watching the ceiling as shame and fury battled for dominance inside of him.

He couldn't stop the motions and flashes from replaying in front of him with every blink.

He was kneeling, looking up at Grand-Cobb.

Blink

He was looking from the gun in his hands to Lincoln standing at his right.

Blink

Lincoln nodded, a slight smile tugging at his lips. Warmth bloomed in his chest.

Blink

He had a Court soldier by the throat. His skin prickled and he had to resist the urge to curl his fingers more severely, lest he pop blood vessels too early.

Blink

He was staring up at bright white lights. His eyes stung and his lips were chapped beyond belief. He tasted blood, overjoyed to feel moisture against his tongue.

Blink

He cupped another handful of water and swallowed it down, relishing in the pleasurable taste. The subtle sweetness was all he could focus on.

Blink

The soldier stared back up at him. His neck was broken-his throat was bruised nearly black. Grandmaster was telling them to take a break until he revived.

Blink

Dick sat up gasping. He wiped his hands against his chest and then the bed covers, desperate to rid himself of the sticky wet blood coating his palms and fingers. He looked down afraid to see he'd stained Bruce's bedspread when he realized there was no blood. He was clean and shirtless and covered in sweat. His palms were sticky and moist. He couldn't believe how much of his own life he hadn't lived. He hadn't done anything for himself since he was 17, and then arguably, he'd still been a minor under Bruce's final say. The injustice and unfairness ate away at him and he had to fight not to let the tears fall again. His heart felt like an enlarged black ball of inky spite. Even now, Bruce had ordered his family not to say anything; most likely. Dick couldn't understand why his brothers wouldn't say anything when he mentioned school or an event that had already happened years ago. He'd been a complete fool, wandering the halls of Wayne Manor stupidly; and Bruce had let him. He'd let him assume wrong time and time again and Dick couldn't grasp how anything in his life was fair or under his control.

It was his life!?He thought incredulously. Why wasn'theliving his own life?!

How could Bruce justify not telling him? He understood that he wasn't necessarily stable the first few weeks he'd been back, but he was safe. He'd never hurt his brothers. He couldn't remember ever doing so; even in sparring. Nothing was as it seemed and he was incredibly unsettled over the fact. Slade had vowed never to take a contract on him and lied. Bruce had kept his own self-destruction from him for who knows how long. His brothers were obeying Bruce like they were children and his remaining family was after him because of a warped biology project his parents agreed to when he was barely a wasn't sure what to do. Falling in line with Bruce and his brothers, pretending everything was alright seemed so weak and pathetic. It felt just as mindless as he felt under Cobb and he hated the lack of authority he had over himself; the authority he allowed Cobb over him. He couldn't just leave his family, despite being in his early twenties. He couldn't imagine leaving his family-his brothers. It felt too strange to just start re-existing back in the world. He may not be fully human anymore and wasn't sure how to proceed. The way he was trained in methods that- his breath caught in his throat with a wet inhale. All the lives he'd taken under his grandfather's orders….

His vision went fuzzy around the edges and Dick vaguely noted that his breathing either sped up or stopped completely. All the talons and Court soldiers he'd murdered under the order of Cobb and Lincoln. It didn't matter that they could come back with electrum. He'd slashed throats and broken necks. He'd complied with a ridiculous amount of gun handling and shooting lessons. He wasn't sure what feelings were authentic, the disgust with himself and the automatic weapons of the familiarity of the warm metal barrel in his Court's soldiers weren't complicit either. Most of them were like him, save for Lincoln and a few others, he suspected. They were taken or raised up until the Court's word of law was all they knew. They had no room or freedom to consider alternative options or orders. The Court was life and law at once. Entirely compelling and directing their slaves's hearts and minds.

And he'd left them. All of them. The soldiers that were awake and following orders, no matter if they might feel differently with true autonomy in their mind. The soldiers that were put to sleep for allowing too much self-direction into their actions, lost indefinitely to Cobb. He'd only seen the room once but the amount of talonized people who had disobeyed and thought for themselves until the Court gave up and froze them in time was horrifying. He suspected Lincoln had shown him the room as a warning to never step out of line. It didn't matter if Cobb was his Grandfather; he had no patience for Dick's free-thinking ways. And Bruce... Bruce would want to know everything. Could Dick pretend to still be clueless? He couldn't fathom debriefing with Bruce on his time with the Court. Telling him about the waterboarding and lethal karate and grappling, the shooting lessons, and the medical examinations. He could barely stomach the idea of the white room and the dejected feelings of nothingness that blanketed his mind and heart. More than anything, his time there and how he fit in. He knew he fit in well and it turned his stomach to acknowledge it. He improved more and more each day and Grandm-Cobb allotted him more leniency every day. Lincoln-god Lincoln still felt like a brother to him. Now that he knew he wasn't, his head was spinning. It felt like he was trying to enforce denial onto himself. like trying to convenience a grown adult that 22 didn't equal 4.

He shifted his weight, sitting up straighter when something fell in his lap, catching his attention. He looked down and caught sight of a small crumpled piece of paper. He instinctively flashed back to a time when he woke up in the Cave's holding cells with a paper that read 5878 but no name and no message.

He reached for it quickly, unfurling it to find just the number 0.

"What the hell" he muttered to himself. He quickly looked up and scanned the room, even peering behind himself. He flipped it over to find a blank backside and rubbed his fingers everywhere looking for false ink or something else. All he could discern was that someone had penned the number 0 and left it for him here.

He looked at the window but it looked locked from the inside so there was no way it was Slade that had left him both papers- unless his stealth and maneuverability were far more capable than he ever let it the shadows?Dick couldn't seem to grasp a handle on his reality. Who was leaving him messages, who was telling him the truth or hiding it? He could barely determine what the truth was right now. His own memories might prove to be faulty and unreliable any day now and it had Dick worried in a way he'd never been. He'd have to make sure to do some investigating before he made a decision on what to do. He couldn't continue as things were without more information about himself and the , too,he added darkly.

Dick stared down at the paper in his hands again.5878he recited. No,58780he corrected his brain. He'd had to get rid of the paper if he wanted to solve this without Bruce impeding as always. Suddenly footsteps sounded outside the door and Dick cursed himself for not realizing Alfred or Bruce might check on him at some point. He'd almost attacked Bruce and then fallen catatonic, 'Why wouldn't they overreact?'Dick reminded himself. He quickly lowered himself backward and hid his hand with the paper under the covers. He tried to smooth his features out and evened his breathing out to 'over the rainbow'. Seconds later, the footsteps grew louder and paused before the door creaked open.

"See, he's fine," said Jason.

A lighter pair of socked feet came closer to him and he felt the bed dip slightly, "He needs to be monitored" Damian argued.

"You can stay in here and watch him sleep like the creeper you are" Jason offered.

Dick had to bite his lip to keep from scolding Jason and laughing at the look that was undoubtedly on Damian's face now.

"He's right Damian," Tim said, "Leslie already checked him out. He just needs sleep. He's literally exhausted himself in every way"

"The guy needs to hibernate without you stealing half his bed for once" Jason joked.

The room lapsed into silence and Dick had to start trying mental tricks to keep himself from drifting off to sleep again, "I should have been more careful. I think my conversation set him off and he remembered Ollie dying" Damian admitted.

"It probably was," Jason said lightly, "But there's not shit that we can do now. You just sped up the timeline per se"

"Leslie said that rushing anything could hurt him more-that's why Father couldn't ask him everything he wanted to"

"Psshhh. Let's be real for once, yeah? Bruce didn't wanna ask Dick how he was feeling, he wanted to know what they did to him so he can file Dick into a new folder just like little old me"

"Jason"

"No, replacement. I'm serious. Bruce just wants to see what flips and tricks Dick can do now that he can take a bullet to the chest and push it out the other side"

"Don't be morbid"

"I'm not. I'm being realistic. None of us know what he is yet or what they did to him. We can't trust what Cobb said because Wilson was there and he was just trying to fuck with our heads. If Dick can really make that yellow shit on his own then half the Justice League is gonna freak. They already hate that Bruce can one-up them each and he's almost 40 and human"

"Dick is gonna triple his enemies if this gets out" Tim added, "Can you imagine what it would sound like? Some human kid can make regenerative blood cells without any extra help?"

"Tt, tons of metas on earth have regenerative healing potential"

"No Damian. They have elevated recuperation; healing. This is on a whole new level of cellular recuperation. At the very least, it implies that the red and white blood cells have a free-thinking autonomy; the ability to decide and dictate how fact and in which order to save and heal organs and tissue. Everyone is gonna want a piece of Dick when they find out his blood might be the answer to people rowing limbs back from nothing. The closest Earth has gotten is trying to copy lizards"

"Father won't let them near" Damian stated.

"He drugged Dick with that cold shit just to see if he could build up an immunity. We don't know how Bruce is gonna handle having a full-on meta kid. I'm almost too much for him and no one with any sense would call me a real meta"

Dick's breath stuttered but he made sure his eyes stayed firmly shut and lax. There is no way he heard that right. Bruce was giving him those shots? When? How? He had to know they hurt like hell. It made his heart feel like it had frostbite and the world slowed down just enough for him to experience pain in an elevated manner. His head thumped like the backs of his eyes were bongo professionals and singular thoughts were made twice as difficult.

Whoever was against the bed shifted in response to his huff of air, "Sshhhhh. We're going to wake him, get out" Damian said.

"Yeah, right, you too demon brat. Leslie said sleep, not Damian go cuddle"

"You might not be skilled at being quiet but I won't wake him needlessly"

"Seriously Damian, Jason's right. He needs as much uninterrupted sleep as possible. We're lucky we haven't woken him up as it is"

"Ttt"

After a few moments, Dick heard the sound of feet shuffling and the door creaking as it opened slowly. After a moment the person dipping the bed got up and left as well. The door closed with a concise click and Dick slowly opened his eyes. He felt numb. It wasn't like he wasn't processing what was happening, but he was pretty sure he was in some level of shock and it had caused a numbness to overtake him; slowing his pulse. He watched the ceiling, his eyes roaming the white pristine walls as if more hidden information would be presented as well.

He couldn't even formulate thoughts beyond disbelief-Jason always teased him for overthinking or mentally multitasking and discombobulating himself, but he seemed incapable a the head felt calm and void of thought. His chest and heart felt numb. There was too much going on around him, regarding him, that he wasn't aware of that he wasn't even sure where to start. It felt like he was being stripped of his autonomy limb by limb and he wasn't sure how to stop it. His life wasn't his own-hadn't been his own for a long time. For a second, a small kindling of dry brush tried to ignite old anger in his stomach but the numbness and shock washed that away quickly, leaving him hollow and alone.

5758..0he thought to himself.

Jason had been watching Dick for a little more than a week now and he was surprised at how in control his brother seemed. After his break down Dick, had slept for almost a whole 2 days; just under 48 hours. Leslie said it was understandable, all things considered, but still ran every test Bruce demanded while he slept. Bruce gave him until breakfast before he stuffed questions and forceful inquiries down his throat. Dick clammed up fast. He refused to talk about much more than was already known but it was obvious that everyone was on the same page now. Dick knew what had happened but he was also the only one who knew what he'd gone knew that part of Bruce's interrogation attempts were so that he could find better ways to help Dick, but he also knew that every other question was being asked by the Bat and not Bruce. Dick felt it too; the forcefulness and subtle blame that ended each demand for information. Jason wasn't sure if Dick was adjusting as well as he did before or if he was just becoming fantastic at faking it. He smiled just as brightly and hugged just as tight. Sparring practice and movie nights were still followed through with. Some days almost felt like how Jason expected their lives to be like if Dick had never been killed and they'd all had the chance to grow up and graduate under the same roof.

Damian was stuck to Dick's hip like spiritual velcro but Dick always had insurmountable patience for the little shit. Tim watched Dick just as closely, as if Dick couldn't feel all their eyes on him, but he managed each day without the objective judgment that Bruce's every blink entire YJ team was over for the afternoon. Artemis, Wally, Tim, and Connor all sat on the couch while Damian, Dick, Kaldur, and himself were spread out across the loveseat souches and rug-covered floor. Roy even brought Lian over to meet Dick for a few hours. Bruce had argued with Ollie and Dinah that it wasn't safe yet, feeling obligated to reveal Dicks recent breakdown. Dinah took the opportunity to side with Leslie and suggest that Lian's introduction might do Dick some good.

"Dick has such a soft heart, Bruce. This will be a great opportunity for him to focus on the present and things he's missed while staying in a loving and calm environment"

Bruce only took it as, "Dick is too nice to ever hurt a baby" but was outvoted by everyone else in the end.

Damian was glaring at baby Lian while Dick held her in his lap and rocked forward as if she was about to topple off his legs. "Ooooh no!" he exclaimed earning him a shrill giggle. Dick beamed in response every time he got a laughing cry out of the baby. Jason rolled his eyes at Dick's joy over getting the opportunity to mother someone younger and younger almost every year.'The guy definitely has ovaries'Jason thought.

Lian had Chesire's dark hair but Roy's pale complexion. He smiled as he watched Dick bond with his child. He hadn't really taken his eyes off Dick and Lian once but Jason knew it wasn't out of worry, but longing instead. All of Dick's teammates were being given a taste of what could've been every time Dick had a good day. They couldn't help but see a joyous Dick Grayson and feel their hearts clench at how much they missed, how it took so much pain and suffering to get right where they should've been already. Jason knew that Roy was probably mentally murdering the Corut while watching his best friend bond with his daughter. They were all thinking the same thing: this should have already happened. Dick should basically be Lian's godfather at this rate. He would have loved to take Damian and Lian around and baby them. Acting like he was their dad and catching the eye of every female in public. He loved the attention but he loved being the source of such happiness for younger souls even more.

Jason hoped Dick wasn't drowning himself in guilt in his head at the moment. He wasn't sure if it was that Dick's emotional bounce back was too perfect or if it was his history with emotional countering to make up for other's bad moods, but Dick was in a good mood and Jason didn't trust him. Not completely.

It infuriated Jason in so many ways. Goldenboy Dickie always preached to others about how they needed to reach out and rely on friends and family for emotional support and well-being, but Dick was the last person to ever take his own advice. He'd rather squander his emotional stability than open up and rely on others. His own insecurities seemed bigger than the sun sometimes. He wanted to punch him and throttle him for feeling so superior that he didn't need to share with the group but demanded that everyone else do so. It was so Bruce coded; the hypocrisy was blatant but Dick came off as a nice guy more than not so most of his old team brushed it off and let it slide with the excuse that it's just an insecurity of his.

"Has she eaten?" Dick asked Roy without looking away from Lian, he stuck his tongue out, struggling to contain his grin as she squirmed and screamed with joy, reaching for his face.

Roy shook his head, "No, but she can wait till lunch. She is a snacker and won't stop until she makes herself sick"

Dick hummed, not listening in the slightest, "I can blend up some food and water?" he offered, "I can puree carrots and sweet potatoes. That's fine, right?"

Artemis scoffed and Wally laughed. Roy shook his head with a smile, "Sure, Dick"

Dick looked over and grinned. He set her down making sure she wouldn't topple over before climbing to his feet, "Up we go" he sang softly as he bent down and picked her up again, making his way to the kitchen.

"Do you have a baby chair? Kid needs a high seat or whatever right?" Artemis asked Roy.

He shook his head, "I just have her car seat but I bet Dick won't want to even set her down" he chuckled.

"Don't babies need constant sleep?" Damian grumbled as he typed away on his phone.

Kaldur chuckled and Tim nudged him in his side, "There is no way you're jealous of a baby"

Jason smirked, "Get over yourself, dude. I bet Dick will baby you if you want" He looked over the couch towards the open kitchen, "Dick!" he called. Silverware clattered before Dick responded, "Yea?" he called back.

"Damian wants carrot mush too!" he called back. Damian gawked and spluttered.

"What?" Dick asked from the kitchen.

"I don't! Richard, I don't!" Damian yelled back with red cheeks.

Connor laughed as he leaned on Tim's side, "Has your sister been by?" Tim asked Artemis. After Roy's mission in the Amazon, Cheshire had split within a day and taken a gig for the Light. She hadn't checked in since but had automated cash deposited into an account for Roy and Lian each month. It was set to stop payments and transfer the entire account if she didn't enter a certain passcode each month. It was obvious insurance in case she was ever killed or compromised, but Roy would much rather her stick around than offer financial means to replace her presence as the mother. She'd only accompanied him on his mission to the Amazon as a favor to her on-and-off boyfriend.

Artemis shrugged, "She messages a lot and pays child support through the roof; but she can afford it with all her gigs". Tim quirked an eyebrow and Aremis picked at her fingernails ignoring Roy's gaze, "She hasn't messaged me since last time. You?" She asked Roy.

He frowned but shook his head, "She wouldn't tell me who it was for but someone in the League contracted her for long-term bodyguard stuff. Stick to the shadows and pick up info; fend off assassinations and whatnot"

It was a sore topic as Lian would most likely be raised by a single dad and her aunt and uncle, but she had a strong support system, no matter how unconventional.

Behind them the sound of a blender starting and stopping sounded off. Kaldur looked to Roy, Wally, and Dick's brothers, "How has he been? He seems good but…"

The unspoken fact that Dick was still the best at hiding his authentic feelings was obvious. Dick's old teammates looked to Dick's brothers for further confirmation. Damian frowned and didn't respond. Tim sighed looking to Jason, "He uh…he had a rough patch recently but he's kind of aware of everything now. The hard part is getting him to talk to us about it basically"

Wally blinked and Roy looked back towards the kitchen in concern. Megan leaned forward, "Dick has remembered everything?" She asked with heaviness in her voice, "That can't be easy on him. A few hours in his head left me very shaken" she said.

Tim nodded as they all recalled when Megan searched Dick's mind and found nothing but PTSD-inducing memories and Deathstroke trying to cajole their brother. Jason huffed, "It's fucked and tense all the time now. Dick knows everything and we all know he knows, but we're playing a game called 'don't be Bruce' where we don't force him to talk about his shit"

Megan nodded understandingly. Connor looked at Tim and Jason, "Not that I disagree with letting him do whatever when he feels ready to do but, like, doesn't he have information to take down the Court? I feel like-"

"We should get everything we can from him and eliminate the threat so Dick can heal without any more psychos coming back for a third helping?" Jason interrupted.

Connor sheepishly rubbed his neck, "Yeah…but like without hurting him anymore" he suggested.

"Ding ding ding," Jason said sarcastically, "We have a winner for what we should do but Bruce doesn't know how to do anything moderately and Dickie is too thick-headed to see reason right now"

Suddenly everyone's eyes were focused on something behind him and Jason turned around to meet Dick's cold gaze. He was holding Lian in both arms while she licked and sucked on orange-coated fingers. He watched Jason and the others with a detached unreadable look for a few moments. Jason held his breath, noticing the murkiness of Dick's gaze. He hoped they were past Dick's episodes but if his eyes went yellow Jason was prepared to pin him, or at least try to pin him. Dick was always too squirrely and bendy to be held down for long, and that coupled with his new strength and physique really challenged Jason on the mats now.

Dick eventually looked away to Roy, "I found a recipe for banana crepes. I want to go buy some flour so we can try that"

Roy hesitated for a minute before pushing to his feet, "Sure, let's take Ollie's car since the car seat's already strapped in there"

Wally jumped up, "I'll come too!"

Dick forced a small small, "Sounds good" he nodded. Without one last look at his brothers Dick turned to lead the way out of the foyer. Damian socked Jason in the arm, "Ow! You lit-"

"Good going, Todd. You can't not insult someone can you?"

"I know that was a Dick move but are we just going to act like we don't all know what's going on? That's what Dick wanted originally-transparency and all that shit"

Megan's face softened as she looked at Tim and Jason, "I know we all know that what he went through is awful but" she broke off trying to find the right words, "I know I'm not as strong as you guys are. I've heard it's called having a softer conviction-"

"Constitution" Tim supplied.

Megan nodded and continued, "The point is that I've lived through 2 galactic wars and fought many earth battles with our team here. Nothing has scarred me more than feeling and seeing what Nightwing did in the last 5 years. He-it hurt….a lot" She looked at Jason, "I know the Lazarus Pit still affects you even today, but this really feels like a different type of monster"

Jason focused on Megan trying not to take the last phrase personally, "I felt a portion of what he felt in some of those memories and I'm amazed he isn't clinically insane, really. The things-"

"It's ok Miss Martian," Tim said softly, "You don't have to go over it again. We read the reports and know that Dick was forced to learn some pretty awful stuff to survive in the Court"

"Not to mention how they disciplined down there," Jason said darkly. Tim nodded.

Megan shook her head, "No-I mean yea, but it's not just that. I only have a few memories with Wing but each one was a horrendous contradiction of everything Wing is. He wanted to do good and succeed; even down there. He couldn't seem to get enough praise from William Cobb. Every action he obeyed or followed through on was like a pat on the back and a knife in the gut. I haven't even told my uncle, but I think Wing was convinced that Cobb was your dad sometimes. The feelings I felt from him when he did good or wanted to- it just…."

She sat straighter, "Look, all I'm saying is that Wing is spiraling and I'm not sure what to do. I can feel all sorts of heady negative emotions rolling off of him all the time, even when he was playing with Lian. He looked so happy but he couldn't detach himself from all these awful rampant thoughts in his mind. I think now that his actions and experiences are kind of coming back to him he's having difficulty telling right from wrong"

"What? Like moral right from wrong?" Connor asked.

Megan shrugged, "I'm not entirely sure but he spent the last 5 years and then a few months learning one way of life and now that person just got shoved into a much different life. It's not just our teammate and brother remembering what tortures he was put through, it's like he had to relearn and re-justify why everything the Court taught him was actually wrong"

Tim's eyes were impossibly wide, "This is bad. Jason this is really bad. The implications alone…Like what if Bruce orders us to do something and we all do it but Dick does it cause he hears Cobb in his head, or what if he doesn't actually believe Batman's code anymore?" he ran a hand through his hair, "This could snowball badly"

"Tt don't be dramatic. Richard is the most dedicated to Father's mission and code; besides myself. Todd is the obvious one with ethical dilemmas. He kills people and Father still hasn't placed him in Arkham"

Artemis looked at Jason and rolled his eyes, "I'm not going around exterminating kids and pregnant women, you brat. I take out the dangerous competition to my territory and any other lowlifes I find"

"Richard would never kill" Damian spat.

"Damian," Megan said quietly. All eyes turned to her, "He has though"

Damian narrowed his eyes, "I know about the Joker and that does not count. Richard was avenging his only brother at the time, and that rat has killed thousands if not millions by extension"

Artemis and Connor's eyes were wide and focused on Damian. The living room was so quiet you could hear lint drop. Megan closed her eyes briefly, "I know about that but I'm talking about Dick when he was with the Court"

Damian's hackles lowered slightly, "What?" he breathed.

Megan took a shuddering breath, "This is why I don't like delving into minds for therapeutic purposes. I always find out more than I need to know and to be betrayed by your own mind is a horrible feeling. I'm surprised Dick talks to me, knowing what I know"

Damians scrutinized the green girl, "The talons-Court soldiers. Whatever they're called….we know about them too. They can't necessarily die as long as they are taking electrum. Father has lifted many lethal restrictions on us when we face them now. They always come back and putting them down is the only efficient way to temporarily subdue them"

Megan watched Damian with a pitying look and he found it hard to keep her amber gaze.

"There were others," Jason said. It wasn't a question.

Megan looked down at her hands, "There were multiple tests they put him through and it often involved hurting or killing others in front of an audience; their board of Owls"

"You saw this?" Tim asked seriously. Megan nodded, "I-felt it too" It was too gruesome to recount as she couldn't recall the memory without viewing and feeling it as Dick had, "His mind was not clear but there weren't a lot of options for him"

"Yeah, they really overdid it with the drugs" Jason sighed.

Damian sat up glaring, "It is the only way to obtain an ounce of conformity and submission from Richard; they had him on multiple things to confuse and rattle him, I doubt Richard knows or remembers what happened even"

Megan looked away, "Yeah…You're probably right"

Jason sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I swear to god if this is why Bruce had been pushing to basically interrogate the dude, I'm signing him up for marriage-level communication classes"

"Leslie never hinted at this. She basically made it sound like once Dick remembered then he was good to go, aside from all the ptsd and healing from his trauma"

Megan rubbed her shoulder, "I can't speak for Dr. Leslie or even Black Canary. They're great but they can't feel what their patient does. The transparency in feelings is why I'll never be a good therapist honestly. I'll burn out too fast"

"Fuck!" Jason barked, "What are we supposed to do?! Force him or don't force him sounds like a lose-lose situation now"

Connor nudged Tim's sagging shoulders, "It'll be okay. For now, the Court of Owls is gone and we can all help Dick get better. We'll have a better handle next time they come around"

Jason seethed in his spot at the end of the Couch knowing they would undoubtedly come around again.

The water running over him was warm and soothing for all of 3 minutes. Dick had hidden away in the private bathroom connected to his bedroom and decided to take a shower after everyone left. He'd been fine. He felt fine. Looked fine. He'd managed his temper well recently and there'd been days where he felt like they were adjusting back to couldn't allow himself much downtime so he'd thrown himself back into routines he remembered, in an effort to stave off any dark thoughts. Sparring every few hours with Jason, eating lunch with Alfred, painting with Damian, and bugging Tim. He couldn't let himself stop and think because if he let any more of his old memories seep into his bone marrow he'd go insane. It was frightening and strange to re-remember memories that didn't feel like his, but he knew they were. It was difficult for him to think about it so he knew explaining it to his family was near impossible. They were all his memories, his actions, so why did it feel like he was incorporated by some foreign entity?

Half his thoughts felt foreign and unnatural now. He felt constantly on edge and tense, longing for his bones and body to finally be able to relax. His neck was permanently stiff at this rate and his instincts were always screaming at him now. Half the time his body was berating him for relaxing in enemy territory instead of reconvening with Lincoln and the others. The other half of the time his shoulders felt heavy with shame and embarrassment for everything he'd been complicit in.

All those lives he'd ruined….

He remembered it all now; too clearly. The people he'd killed to prove something-anything to Grandm-Cobb. He couldn't sleep for long without reliving his bloody unforgivable actions over and over again. Last night he was lucky he woke up quietly. He'd dreamt of his first initiation and introduction to the Board; the ruling owls. He'd killed and brutally ripped out a man's heart for their superficial approval.

He had to remind himself every time he got sweaty or wet that it wasn't blood coating his palms. Half the time expecting blood felt more natural than his own bodily fluids. What's worse is that the only thing he felt guilty over was how many times he had to remind himself to feel guilt over the memories of his actions. Like he had to repetitively reinforce retribution internally. He'd killed so, so many Talons and was thankful that they'd risen again, but it didn't change the fact that he'd stopped so many hearts from beating; so many brains from receiving oxygen. The other talons still needed help as well. Dick wasn't sure how to broach the subject but he knew that most of them were like him and needed help. They'd had lives beforehand and had acted up or resisted one too many times until Cobb put them to sleep. There were so many that he knew would want their lives and a chance at autonomy back again. He'd been there, lived their daily hell with them. He had to find a way to go back and help them. It might be easier to free them now that the Court had scattered for the most part. He wasn't sure when or where they would re-gather under Cobb's command. But there were so many unknowns. Dick acknowledged that he'd been put through a handful of different tests and experiments, successfully separating him from the others, but the others relied on electrum. They couldn't keep taking it when free of the Court- but would that kill them quickly? Or just limit them to their current age? It would be a heavy job for every biochemist and therapist within the League's jurisdiction.

It was too easy to spiral, to feel those dark consuming thoughts that wanted to pull him down into nothingness where all he strived for was approval and adrenaline. Something passionate to feel for longer than a few didn't even care what he was doing, he just wanted to hear that he was doing it well. He wanted that pleasant burn in his stomach and to feel his veins heated with that exhilaratory quickening that danger and risk gave him wanted to let it all out, but was too scared to even write it in a journal, even burning it was too risky in a house full of invasive detectives. Dick couldn't stand the thought of how they'd tell him he was still healing and that it was alright; while on the inside they cringed and forced themselves to smile at him. They all wished for the old Dick back, he felt it. The way their gazes crinkled or their lips thinned when he said or did something out of character for their dead brother. It felt natural to Dick, it all did but seeing and feeling how he was doing it wrong in his family's eyes made him feel like he was even breathing wrong. Like he was a total failure. Like he wasn't existing correctly.

He wasn't sure what he should do about the spiraling lost feeling that was quickly getting out of hand. He couldn't sleep long and found more and more instances of conversation quieting when he entered a room. He sometimes wondered if what he was feeling was less and less of a connection to his home. Not so much his family, but a distance per se. Dick knew he was traumatized, and knew there were things he had to get over and heal from, but the end goal and expectations he wanted and what Bruce and his brothers wanted were so polarized that he wasn't sure how to find a medium. They wanted someone who always smiled, who'd never been bled to death, who'd never killed someone, who'd never shot a gun. It's not that he didn't want that too but that ship had sailed and it felt like he was the only one not in denial over the fact. Anger prickled at the corners of his mind over how his family's expectations of him were so confining and restrictive. What if he wanted to be just like Jason? And go kill every criminal; Bruce seemed accepting of Jason's ways now.

A sudden thought came to him as he stared down at the shower floor, water raining past his face in a rushing halo. What if he really broke Bruce's code and meant it? Would his family and dad still love him? Dick realized he wasn't sure. Granted he might not deserve their unconditional love if he did become that unethical, but if he did have their unconditional love, wouldn't they love him no matter his actions?Dick shook his head to rid himself of his quickly darkening thoughts, he suffocated himself too easily with what-ifs and future possibilities. Water rushed around his face and past his nose causing him to inhale water over air when he sniffed. The sudden feeling of water in his nose and throat, no matter how minimal, froze his bones and made his throat close up. Suddenly all he could see was the bottom of an ice-cold barrel and the feel of hands pressing his shoulders and neck down. The water was suddenly freezing; not scalding hot. He shoved up, trying his best to resist the palms forcing his head down, but the world jerked and rotated. Dick choked and coughed, swinging his arms wildly to counter the sudden tilting in his body and vision. He stumbled back and grabbed at the tiled walls only to slip and crash to the floor, hitting his tailbone. Sharp, full throbbing pains shot up his lower back, bringing him back to his shower; his reasonably warm shower. The water continued to patter down on his head and he found himself sitting naked against the slippery tiles, watching the hot water hit his ankles and then escape down the drain.

Dick sighed, glad no one else was there to see his massively pathetic panic attack over swallowing shower water. Forcing the remaining thoughts from his mind he quickly held his breath and reached in to turn off the water before stepping out.

He padded into his bedroom and looked around for some loose pants and a jacket; he always felt a little on the cold side nowadays and longed for warmth more often. He found a bright blue one and reached for it before halting. He wasn't sure what kept his hand restrained but he was sure he shouldn't move. He was in trouble or-or had to make up for a recent mistake. He had to- suddenly a figure behind him sucked all the air from the room. Dick felt his presence like a physical weight in his periphery. The large dark being in his side eye stood there watching him and Dick fought the urge to kneel before his grandfather. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but he'd do this sometimes. Observe him and Lincoln for something, something beyond Dick's understanding. He never knew what, and Lincoln claimed to never know either, but it pulled him in so many different directions. He wanted to please him, to ask if he was doing his task fine. He wanted to bare his teeth and let his hackles rise in defense. He wanted to turn and curse out the older man, let his words rip, and see the damage they caused.

The figure took a step towards him and Dick's breath caught in his throat, prepared to feel that large calloused hand on his throat, running through his hair before pulling painfull-

"Dick?"

Dick whipped around, his heart prepared to beat out of his chest. Bruce stood in the doorway to his bedroom with a peculiar expression. Dick remembered to breathe and forced himself not to take one giant gulp of air to accommodate.

"Bruce" Dick squeaked out.

Bruce looked around Dick's room before settling his attention on him again. "Is everything alright? Alfred called you a few times and you never answered"

Dick felt his cheeks flush, "Sorry" he murmured, "I was in the shower" he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, "Singing in the shower, you know?"

Bruce gave a small smile, "Well let's go get dinner"

"Dinner?" Dick inquired with a cocked head.

Bruce gave him a keen scrutinizing look in return, "Yeah..dinner. I've rented out the Italian place you boys like on Wibble Road"

Dick gave Bruce a look, "You rented out the whole place?"

Bruce shrugged, "It seemed easier this way. I only had to pay out for a few reservations this time"

Dick grinned and quickly stepped around the corner to pull on some jeans and a shirt from a clean pile Alfred had dropped off on his bed, "Sounds good. Let's go"

Dick made his way out the door and down the stairs to the sounds of Alfred and his brothers preparing to leave. Bruce watched Dick go before his expression smoothed into one far more likely to cause Dick distress. He took a step into Dick's room and looked around noting nothing out of the ordinary. He took a few steps into the bathroom, noting that it was still cooling from the heavily steamed shower. Bruce was about to follow Dick when the shower caught his attention. The wall and floor had a few cracked tiles furthest from the showerhead. Minor pieces littered the shower floor. Bruce looked at them closely, unable to find any hair or blood stuck to the shards, before looking back towards the bedroom door; unsure of how to help his son.