"You figured it out quicker than I was expecting."

Dick stepped forward, taking in the room. Deathstroke was standing almost casually in the middle of it, his helmet off but his suit otherwise on. Dick didn't take off his own helmet; he'd need every advantage to bluff Deathstroke properly, and he wasn't about to show him his face. Already, he knew it would probably show too much, just from a glance around the room.

To Deathstroke's left was the Joker, unconscious and tied to a chair. To his right was Renegade's old gun.

"You still had time to get ready for me."

"I knew you were coming. Where's the knife?"

Dick's hand twitched towards his boot, but he didn't pull the knife out. "It has a tracker on it?"

"I figured you'd bring it for this. And I wanted to make sure I'd have time to prepare."

Dick wanted to say something about how Deathstroke would never win, about how he would never kill the Joker. He bit his tongue. Deathstroke had to think he had won, if Dick wanted to get his guard down.

"What are you two planning?" he asked instead.

Deathstroke picked up a sheaf of papers and tossed them towards Dick. They spilled out across the floor before they reached him, but Dick didn't need to look closely to see what they were about.

"You're going to attack the Manor."

"That's going to be the grand finale," Deathstroke agreed. "Little things first. Wayne Enterprises. Your brothers' schools. The Clocktower. Everywhere that might hurt. Everywhere someone might get hurt. And then, at the end, we'll hit you where you live. Literally."

Dick bent down and picked up a paper. "This isn't the Joker's sort of plan. This is yours."

"It's a joint effort."

"And how…" Dick's words caught in his throat; he swallowed and tried again. "How do I stop it?"

Deathstroke looked at him with interest. "I thought we'd at least have to start before you got desperate enough to bargain."

"I know what you're going to do. I had a pretty good idea even before you told me. I don't want it to happen. What do I have to do?"

Deathstroke studied Dick for a long moment, then he gestured to the gun beside him. "You know what you have to do."

"And then what? You go back to Wintergreen and tell him the Joker is dead, and I go back to Bruce and pretend I wasn't the one to kill him?"

Deathstroke made a sound that was almost sympathetic. "Do you really think you'll be able to do that?"

"I'm a pretty good actor," Dick said, lifting his chin in what both he and Deathstroke knew was false bluster.

"Oh, I know," Deathstroke replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "But can you keep lying to your family, every single day? Assuming they don't find out in the first place. That brother of yours is shaping up to be an even better detective than your father."

"Don't talk about my brothers," Dick spat.

The curl of Deathstroke's lips was definitely amusement. "If they find out, do you think you'll still be able to call them that?"

"Not very encouraging if you want me to kill the Joker," Dick said, fighting the tremble in his voice.

"My mistake. I thought you cared more about them being alive."

Dick's hand spasmed at his side as he forced himself not to reach for the knife. "So those are my options? I kill the Joker, or he kills everyone I love?"

"There are two ways to live with yourself, when you've made a career of killing people," Deathstroke said. "The first is not to care. That's what I do, and I'm damn good at it. I did my best with Renegade, but I think you even cared a bit back then."

"If I didn't care, it was because you didn't let me."

"The second option," Deathstroke continued, with no sign that he'd heard Dick's comment, "is to convince yourself that you're doing the right thing. That what you're doing is lesser of two evils."

"A lesser evil is still evil."

"A typically heroic stance. Is it better to do nothing, so your precious morality isn't in jeopardy? Should you just let the Joker kill everyone and not do anything to stop him?"

"I could put him back in Arkham."

"Even if I would let you, you know that Arkham isn't a secure spot for anyone, let alone him. If you want this to be over, you need to end it."

Dick looked from Deathstroke to the Joker. "Why is he unconscious?"

"This isn't his moment," Deathstroke dismissed. "He's not a part of it."

"I think he's a pretty big part of it, since you want me to kill him."

"He's here to die," Deathstroke said flatly. "Nothing more, nothing less. The only question is how many people he's allowed to kill before you do something about it."

"And you think I'll kill an unconscious man?"

"You've done it before."

Dick couldn't help but flinch. "The things I did as Renegade, when I didn't have my memory, they don't-"

"They don't count?" Deathstroke asked with derision. "Is that what you and your family have told yourselves to make peace with it? All the bullets you put into people's heads don't count because I told you to put them there?"

"You manipulated me. I was vulnerable, and you took advantage."

"I shaped you into something better than you were. Something stronger. Renegade wouldn't hesitate to do what he had to do."

"Renegade wouldn't have cared about anything but the contract. Renegade wouldn't have given a damn that people were in danger, not unless you told him he had to."

"Do you really think that lowly of yourself?"

"I'm not Renegade."

"You are. In the ways that matter, you are. You were stripped down to the essentials, and Renegade is what you became."

"Renegade is what you made me."

"Yes, and I'm proud of it. Renegade was more efficient than Nightwing ever was. Do you remember how many contracts we took? You even took some on your own. We fulfilled each and every one. If we decided to do something, we did it. Nightwing can hardly keep criminals off the street for more than a week before they're out again."

"At least Nightwing is doing good."

"Nightwing isn't doing much of anything. If you want to make a difference, you have to make it."

"With a gun?" Dick asked with derision.

"With whatever it takes."

Dick bit back his response and took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing about this, not now. He knew how this had to end.

"I'm not joining you again, even if I kill the Joker."

"You will," Deathstroke replied easily. "Maybe not immediately, but eventually. I can wait."

"Can you? You came after me pretty fast."

"It's been a year."

"Are you telling me you've never waited longer than a year for something?"

"I don't think I'll even need to wait that long after you kill the Joker. I can't imagine your father would need a whole year to figure out what to do with his murderer son."

"I'm not the only one in the family who's killed people, you know."

"I know."

"What makes you so sure that Bruce wouldn't accept it if it's me?"

"I don't think he'd be happy with any of his children if they fell off the wagon, but you're his first. You're his golden boy. If you fall, then the whole family will fall after you, and Batman would rather cut you out than let that happen."

"You don't understand him at all."

"Then prove me wrong," Deathstroke replied. He gestured at the gun on the table. "Kill the Joker and go home."

Dick looked over at the gun. It was his gun, the one he missed and hated that he missed. It was the one that fit so nicely into his hand, better than any of the guns Jason had offered at the shooting range. He knew exactly how it would feel in his hands, and he knew exactly how it would feel when he pulled the trigger.

"There are other options too, you know," Deathstroke added. "I could get you a crowbar."

Dick breathed through the flare of anger. Deathstroke had known that would happen, he knew, and he wasn't about to let him have the satisfaction.

He stepped forward and picked up the gun.

"It's loaded," Deathstroke said, as if Dick couldn't tell that from the weight in his hand. "Go ahead."

Dick lifted the gun, looking down the sight, then lowered it again. "He's a monster."

"He is."

"And he's going to hurt people."

"He is."

Dick looked down at the gun. "I've killed him before."

"I know you have," Deathstroke agreed. "It was smart. The stupid thing was bringing him back."

"I did it with my bare hands last time."

"The gun will be cleaner, but if you want to beat him to death, be my guest. The client doesn't care how it's done as long as it gets done."

"Is there actually a client?" Dick asked, looking up at Deathstroke. "You're making some money off this as well as everything else?"

"Best to diversify," Deathstroke replied blandly. "And there's a client. I could have taken my pick of contracts out for the Joker."

"And which one did you pick?"

Deathstroke raises a lazy eyebrow. "You know that's confidential."

"Since I'm the one fulfilling the contract, shouldn't I know who it's for?"

"When you come back to me, I'll tell you."

"I'm never going back to you."

Deathstroke took a step forward. Dick forced himself not to take a step back.

"You've been saying all along that you're not coming back, that you're not Renegade." Deathstroke reached out and flicked Dick's shoulder lightly. "And yet look what you're wearing when you come to meet me."

"I couldn't exactly come in jeans and a t-shirt," Dick countered. "And Nightwing doesn't kill."

"Careful there, you're starting to sound like Dent. Renegade's the killer, Nightwing is the hero, and Dick Grayson is the one who holds them together, is that it?"

"Renegade is gone," Dick replied. He knew he had to stay focused, he knew what he had to do, but he couldn't help but push back against Deathstroke's barbs. Letting him say them without complaint felt too much like agreement.

"If Renegade is gone, who's in front of me in his suit?" Deathstroke walked a slow circle around Dick, prowling like a tiger that wanted to play with its food. "You wear the Renegade suit when you need to actually get something done, is that it?"

"I'm wearing the Renegade suit because-"

"Because it's easier to kill in it?" Deathstroke interrupted. "You've done it before, after all. There's plenty on blood on Renegade's hands, what's a bit more?"

It did feel like it would be easier to kill in the Renegade suit than the Nightwing one, as if this was what the Renegade suit was for. In a way, it was.

After Deathstroke was dead, Dick was going to burn the suit and scatter the ashes.

He should have done that a year ago.

Dick lifted the gun, pointing it at the Joker. His hand shook, just slightly. It was enough for Deathstroke to make an irritated noise.

"You've backslid. We'll have to work on that."

Dick remembered, suddenly, how his hands had shook back when he was Renegade, back when he first woke up, and how Deathstroke had made him practice aiming a gun at a target for hours, smacking his hands sharply every time they trembled. After a few days, they'd steadied, and they'd never shook like that again.

He wondered now if some of that shaking had been stifled instincts that tried to tell him that a gun wasn't his usual weapon. Had a part of him known the truth, even as the rest of him had believed Deathstroke's lies? Had his hands shook because they didn't want the blood on them?

He knew that was why they were shaking now.

"He's hurt my family," Dick said, looking at the Joker as his chest rose and fell.

"He has."

"He's going to hurt them again if he gets the chance."

"Oh, he will."

"Killing him is-"

Dick had planned to say that killing him was the right thing to do. He wanted Deathstroke to think he was going to put a bullet between the Joker's eyes right up until the moment when he put it between Deathstroke's instead. But the words felt too real on his tongue, and he didn't want to say them and realize they weren't a lie after all.

"It's the only way your family can be safe," Deathstroke said. "It's him or them. Now do it."

Dick took a deep breath, then he spun and fired the gun into Deathstroke's face.

Except he was too slow, because Deathstroke was gone before the bullet hit.

"I was worried you'd try something like this," Deathstroke said conversationally as he grabbed the gun out of Dick's hand and squeezed it so tightly that Dick could hear the little bones of his fingers snapping. "Did you really think it could work?"

Dick headbutted Deathstroke hard, his helmet doing the double duty of protecting his head while also letting him hit Deathstroke's even harder. Deathstroke swore, and Dick followed up with a kick to the outside of Deathstroke's knee and a hard punch to his side. Deathstroke let go of Dick's hand and fell back, but the look in his eye told Dick the fight was only beginning.

"You've only made things worse for yourself, you know," Deathstroke said as he barreled forward. If he'd connected with Dick, his shoulder would have slammed into Dick's chest, but Dick was gone before he got there, flipping out of the way and landing hard on Deathstroke's back before flipping away again. "I will keep you here, and I will make you watch everything we do to your family. We will kill every single one of them, and then, after that breaks you, you'll kill anyone I tell you. Did you think this could work? You've just handed yourself to me on a platter."

"Your whole plan depends on you winning this fight," Dick retorted.

"Do you really think you can beat me?"

Dick kneed Deathstroke hard in the throat, barely avoiding the way Deathstroke grabbed blindly at him. "I'm not Renegade. I'm not going to let you win."

"You say you're not Renegade, and yet you came here in your suit to kill me. You planned this, didn't you? Just like how we used to plan our contracts together."

"I'm doing what I have to do."

"Oh, it's easy to tell yourself that, isn't it?" Deathstroke bared his teeth in a savage grin. "But if you can justify killing me, why not the Joker too? Or was that always your plan, to put the first bullet in my head and the second in his?"

"You won't stop as long as you're alive."

"Neither will he. There are lots of people that the world would be better without. You could get rid of them."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to try to encourage me to kill people when I'm trying to kill you?"

"You've never been a real threat to me," Deathstroke dismissed. "But this means you're willing to kill, and I think that means I've won."

"You won't be saying that when I've put a bullet through your skull."

"You'll have to try harder than that to kill me and you know it. If you want me dead, you have to mean it."

Deathstroke wasn't wrong. Dick was pretty sure he could kill him and make it stick - he'd looked over his siblings' plans, and some of them even had merit - but it wouldn't be easy.

But Deathstroke also wasn't wrong when he said that Dick killing someone, even if that someone was Deathstroke himself, meant he'd won, and Dick wasn't about to let Deathstroke win. He'd been playing into Deathstroke's hands the whole time. He wasn't going to do that anymore.

The gun was on the floor, and Dick didn't think he could get it before Deathstroke. But the knife was in Dick's boot, and Dick wanted to give it back to Deathstroke anyway.

Deathstroke had been expecting the bullet. He hadn't been expecting the knife to the back of his neck, and even if Dick's strike was sloppy, it still severed the spinal column.

"This knife scared me more than anything else," Dick said, bending next to Deathstroke's suddenly limp body to pull it out. He slid it back in more neatly, burying the blade between two vertebrae that were high enough that Deathstroke wouldn't be able to move anything below his neck. He couldn't take the knife out; he could only wait until Dick did it for him. Dick knew exactly what that felt like. "I hated it. And you knew that, and you gave it to me."

"I'll do whatever I have to to push you to be what you should be," Deathstroke retorted, fury on his face even as the rest of his body lay sprawled on the ground. "Take the knife out now, Renegade."

Something in Dick's brain wanted to listen. The corner of him that was still Renegade was afraid, and it thought they'd be safer if they listened to Deathstroke. Dick had spent months trying to push Renegade away, but this time, he closed his eyes instead and told himself, I am safe.

When he'd been in Deathstroke's clutches, it had been safer to listen. His instincts had protected him then. But Deathstroke had no power over him now, especially not with a knife in his spine, and Dick was safe in a way Renegade never had been. He didn't have to listen anymore.

"I was going to kill you. I didn't want to, but I told myself it was the only option. I had a whole plan. But I was lying to myself. It wasn't the only option. It was the easy one, and I'm not afraid of doing things the hard way instead."

"Your 'hard way' is just stupid," Deathstroke retorted. "You can't think I'm going to let you get away with this."

"I know you'll come after me eventually," Dick agreed. "And when you do, I'll be ready, and I'll stop you again. But you were right. Killing you means you've won, and I'm not going to let you win."

"You're an idiot."

"Maybe, but if it means I don't end up with more blood on my hands, I'm okay with that."

Deathstroke bared his teeth, but Dick ignored him. He bent down to pick up the gun and slid it absently into his holster, and then he went over to the Joker. He was still unconscious, and for half a second, Dick did consider it, pulling the gun back out and putting a bullet in the Joker's head. It would make them all safer. It was what the Joker deserved.

But Dick didn't want to kill, not again, so he just checked that the Joker's bonds were secure, then he started searching the room for a phone. He hadn't brought his own, not wanting Babs to be able to track him, but he was sure Deathstroke had one somewhere, and he had to make a call.

Deathstroke's cellphone ended up being in his pocket, and Dick pulled it out while Deathstroke spat insult after insult at him. He ignored the comments and dialed, tapping his fingers on his leg while he waited.

"Who is this, and how did you get this number?" Bruce growled the second he picked up.

"Hey, B," Dick said, a rush of exhaustion crashing over him. "I could use a hand."

Bruce moved quickly, as he always did. The Gotham police came for the Joker, and agents from a more secure black-ops prison came for Deathstroke. Dick doubted either could be held for long, but at least this would keep them both busy for a while.

Dick watched everything from the rooftop of the building across the street, sitting on the edge and using his helmet's lenses to watch through the window. He couldn't be in the room, not unless he wanted people to know about Renegade, but he also had to see it. He had to know that the Joker and Deathstroke had been taken care of, even if only temporarily, and he had to know that his family was safe.

There was a light thump behind him. Dick didn't turn around, but he did take off his helmet.

"I was going to kill him."

Bruce stepped forward, crouching next to Dick. He kept a careful distance. Dick wondered who he thought he was protecting.

"You didn't."

"I was going to, though. That's been my plan all along, or almost. At lunch on that first day, I decided I had to stop Deathstroke, and I had to do it before any of you got to him because I had to keep him from hurting you. I thought I had to make it stick."

"You didn't do it."

"I've been lying to you for days."

"Hm."

"You can't pretend this doesn't bother you," Dick said, still not turning around. "I was going to kill someone. I was actively planning on it. I did exactly what I told you I wouldn't do, and I snuck out on my own to kill someone."

"Maybe. But no one is dead."

Dick dared to look over at Bruce. The cowl hid a lot, but Dick had grown up with it; he knew how to read it.

There was, somehow, no condemnation to be seen.

"I didn't want to," Dick whispered. "I never wanted to. The whole time, I didn't want to, but I thought I had to. I thought it was the only way to keep you safe."

"Why didn't you, then?"

"He was smug," Dick said. "Even when I was trying to kill him, he was smug. And he said that if I killed him, he would win, and I realized he was right."

Bruce hummed. "If you want him dead without doing it yourself, I'm sure one of your siblings would be happy to oblige."

Dick made a choked noise that was almost a laugh. "Oh, Jason would love to. But… I don't want him dead, not really. I want him out of my life, but I don't want his blood on my hands. And even if I'm not the one who pulls the trigger, if I ask Jason to do it, he's still dead because of me." Dick looked down at his hands, at Renegade's gloves. "There are enough people who are dead because of me and Deathstroke already."

"We never really…" Bruce sighed and sat next to Dick properly. "You never wanted to talk about Renegade. I never pushed unless I had to."

"I appreciated that," Dick replied. "I… really didn't want to talk about it."

"I know, but I think maybe you should have. I think maybe you needed to."

Dick sighed, leaning back and staring at the sky. The Gotham smog was lighter than usual; there were some hints of blue peeking through.

"I think maybe I did."

"If you want to talk, I can always make time," Bruce said, quietly earnest in the way he always was with things that mattered. "Or if you'd rather talk to someone else, I'm sure your siblings would be open too. Or we could find someone less connected. The League has a few approved therapists."

"I think…" Dick swung his legs. "I don't think I can start with the family. I want to talk to you about it eventually, but I think I need to start with someone else."

"Should I look over the League's list of therapists?"

"Maybe, but I think I'm going to try some friends first. Maybe the Titans. I've been meaning to talk to them more anyway."

Bruce nodded. "If you want to leave Gotham for a while-"

"I don't," Dick cut in, and he saw Bruce visibly relax next to him. "I might not spend every night at the Manor, but I'm not moving out. I probably will eventually, but I… I don't think any of us are ready for that yet."

Bruce studied him. "I know I can be… overprotective. And I know I've been particularly so since you came back last year. But if you do want space, then I can do my best."

"Oh, B." Dick tilted to the side, leaning against Bruce's side. "I love you too."

Dick felt the brush of a kiss across his hair. "I love you, chum. I should say the words too."

Dick sighed deeply. "I think the GCPD is pretty much done over there."

"Do you want to check it after them, just in case?"

"I checked it before they came. I think…" Dick closed his eyes for a moment, turning into Bruce's warmth, then he pushed himself upright. "I want to go home."

Bruce stood, holding out a hand to Dick. "Then let's go."

The Cave was empty when they arrived. "Your siblings are all upstairs," Bruce told Dick, "but I told them not to crowd you right when we got home. They'll probably all jump on you once you go up, though."

Dick laughed a little. "I'll go change, and then I'll go upstairs to be jumped on."

"Is there anything else you want me to tell them?" Bruce asked. "Or anything you don't want to talk about?"

"No, I think I can tell them everything myself. I owe them that."

Bruce squeezed Dick's shoulder lightly, then he went to change, letting Dick change as well. It felt good to be out of the Renegade suit, and Dick was definitely going to figure out a way to destroy it. Keeping it around only hurt.

Bruce was waiting by the stairs when Dick came out in a t-shirt and sweatpants. "Are you ready?"

"I'm not gonna run, B. Not even if everyone jumps on me."

"I'm not worried about that. I am worried about you."

Dick sighed. "This whole thing was shit. Everything about it was totally shit. But now that it's over… I'm not necessarily glad it happened, but I do think it gave me some closure that I hadn't gotten before. I think I can put Deathstroke and Renegade behind me now. And I think I'm going to be stronger because of that."

"I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, B. Now come on, let's go upstairs."

Bruce's study, to Dick's surprise, was empty when they came out of the passage, but he could hear voices coming from the living room down the hall. He didn't hesitate as he made his way towards them. He could make them out as he got closer, heard Steph and Jason bickering while Tim and Duke chatted and Babs spoke with Alfred. He couldn't hear Cass or Damian, but as he got even closer, his enhanced hearing let him pick out their breathing, and he assumed they were sitting together, comforting each other without the need for words. He knew everyone in there was working through their worry in their own way, the tension in their voices made that clear, and he knew they'd keep worrying as long as he kept giving them something to worry about.

He hoped he could stop doing that soon. He wanted to be better.

Dick stepped into the room, and a small body flew at him like a rocket, slamming into his torso and wrapping tight arms around his waist. "You are never allowed to do such a thing again," Damian told him. "Never, Richard, do you hear me?"

"I'm sorry, Dami," Dick replied, wrapping his arms around Damian and brushing a kiss over the top of his head.

"You're a stupid son of a bitch, you know that?" Jason called. "Did you want to scare the shit out of us on purpose, or was that just a nice little side bonus?"

"I wanted to protect you," Dick said. "I thought the only way to do that was to keep Deathstroke away from you as much as possible."

"So you went to confront him yourself?" Damian demanded. "I didn't think you were that foolish."

"I… didn't just go to confront him," Dick admitted. "I…" He took a deep breath. "Remember how you asked me at lunch a few days ago if I wanted you guys to kill Deathstroke?"

The mood of the room shifted immediately. "Yes," Damian said warily. "You did not answer properly."

"Deathstroke's not dead," Tim said. "He's on his way to a maximum security prison. B said you called him to arrange it."

"I did," Dick agreed. "And you're right, Damian, I didn't really answer before. I didn't really know what I wanted. But I do now, and I don't want you to kill Deathstroke."

The room was quiet for a moment. Cass was the one to finally break the silence.

"You went to Deathstroke to kill him."

"I thought I had to," Dick agreed. "I thought it was the only way you would all be safe. I thought- He's going to keep coming after me. He's never going to stop, not entirely. And I was worried you guys would get caught in the crossfire, so I wanted to protect you by making sure there was no crossfire to get caught in. The only way I could see to do that was to kill Deathstroke."

"You could have asked us for help," Jason said. "You know we would have helped."

"I didn't want you anywhere near him," Dick replied. "I went alone for a reason. I've been keeping things from you guys for days. I… I went out to Deathstroke's safe houses on my own on purpose, and I found a message from him in the first one, and I met up with him in Gotham that night. I was doing my best to keep you guys away from him all along."

"Do you not trust us?" Damian asked, hurt in his voice.

"I trust you," Dick replied immediately. "I don't trust Deathstroke, and I don't trust myself. Or, I didn't."

"What does that mean?" Steph asked. "I mean, I get not trusting Deathstroke, but what were you worried you would do?"

Dick had promised himself he would tell them everything, but the words caught in his throat.

"He was worried to lose us," Cass said quietly, when he didn't speak.

"Oh," Babs breathed. "Oh, Dick."

"I didn't know what it would do to me, but… Tim, Steph, you saw what happened when I thought the Joker had killed Tim, and that was even before everything with Renegade. I knew that, if Deathstroke killed one of you, or if the Joker did, then I wouldn't be able to control myself. I wanted to stop them before they had the chance."

"You would have," Duke said unexpectedly. "You've got better self-control than you ever give yourself credit for. You'd have been okay."

"Maybe," Dick replied, although he wasn't sure he believed it. "But I didn't want to risk it, and I didn't want to risk losing you. I wanted to stop Deathstroke, whatever it took, and I decided that killing him was the best way to go about it."

"But he isn't dead," Tim said. "So you changed your mind."

"I did," Dick agreed. "I realized killing him meant he would win. He'd be dead, yeah, but he'd still have gotten me to kill someone again. And I don't want to be the type of person who kills people."

"And you don't want us to do it either?" Jason asked. "Is it just cause you're worried about us getting hurt? Because we can be careful."

Dick shook his head. "It's not just that. If you kill him for me… I don't want any more blood on my hands, Jay, not even his. And if you kill him for me, then that's still on me in the end."

Jason's jaw worked for half a second, and Dick wondered if he was going to argue. Jason had wanted so desperately to be avenged, wanted people to fight for him, and Dick knew that he showed his affection in that same way. Being told not to do it would be hard.

But Jason had never been one to shy away from hard things, so he just nodded. "Okay. You say the word, I'll do it, but I won't if you don't want me to."

"Same goes for all of us," Steph agreed. "I said it from the beginning, Dick, we're not going to do anything that might give you another guilt complex."

Dick felt his lips twitch into a crooked smile. "Another guilt complex?"

"Well, you've got a whole collection, since you decide to feel personally guilty about every little thing that could possibly go wrong for anyone, so yeah, another guilt complex."

"What do you require from us, Master Dick?" Alfred asked. "Other than our safety?"

"I talked to Bruce already about talking to someone," Dick said. "And I love you guys, but I'm not ready to talk to you yet. Not about everything, at least. So… I need you not to push, and I need you not to take it personally if I can tell other people things that I can't tell you. Some things are just… easier to tell people who aren't family."

"We get it," Babs said. "Titans?"

"That was the plan," Dick agreed, grinning at her. Of course she'd know; Babs could often read him better than Dick could read himself. "And you guys eventually, I promise. Just not quite yet."

"You can tell us what you want, when you want to," Babs told him. "And we're not going to push. Right, guys?"

"We won't," Tim agreed immediately. "I won't. I know I can be bad about that, but-"

"Hey, Tim, it's not always a bad thing," Dick assured him quickly. "Your pushing has helped before, and I'm sure it'll help again. But just not right now, okay?"

Tim nodded. "Okay."

"We won't push," Steph said, "but you've gotta remember that we're here for you and you don't need to do stuff alone. That means using your words if something is wrong."

"You drive a hard bargain," Dick said, mock ruefully, "but I guess I can manage that."

"We'll hold you to it," Duke told him.

"Yeah, I know you will."

"Will you tell us eventually?" Damian asked. Quickly, he added, "I don't mean to push, but-"

"I will," Dick promised. "I know it's hard not to know, Dami, and I- I would tell you if I thought I could, but I can't yet. I need to work through a couple of things first, and I need a little distance to do that. But I'm not going far, and I'll always come back, I promise."

"Do you think this prison can hold Deathstroke?" Babs asked cautiously. "Is there anything we can do to help them?"

"I don't think any prison can hold Deathstroke for long," Dick admitted. "They were only able to take him into custody because I paralyzed him, and I don't think they'll be able to keep him immobilized forever. If he wants to get out of the prison, he will. But… I hope he won't come after me immediately. He knows this plan didn't work. He'll probably try again eventually, but he might take a bit more time to figure out a new strategy."

"Do you think he's going to keep coming after you to bring you back as Renegade, or do you think he'll go after you for revenge?" Duke asked. "Cause you did just kick his ass and throw him in jail."

"I did," Dick agreed with pride. "But honestly, I think that once Deathstroke calms down a little, this might just make him want me to come back and rejoin him more. He's obsessive, and me beating him in a fight he definitely thought he would win is just going to make that worse."

"So we need to be on guard," Jason said. "Should we keep an eye out for any mercenary contracts around Gotham?"

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Dick agreed. "He might come without a contract, but he'd probably like to multitask, especially since this contract went south."

"Is that going to ruin his reputation?" Steph asked, a slight eagerness in her voice. "I mean, Deathstroke is supposed to always get his target, and this is the second target in Gotham in a row that he messed up with. It probably won't keep him out of Gotham, not if he's totally obsessed with you, but it might make people in Gotham less likely to hire him?"

Dick hadn't even considered that. He was so used to thinking of Deathstroke as unstoppable that he'd hardly realized that he'd stopped him twice in a row. Two people that Deathstroke wanted to kill were alive because of Dick.

He was definitely more proud of saving Lucius.

"It might," Dick agreed. "Deathstroke's still known for being pretty good, but this definitely isn't going to help his reputation."

"Can we make it worse?" Cass asked. When Dick turned to her, she elaborated, "His reputation."

"Ooh, can we spread nasty rumors about him?" Steph asked. "We can tell people that Deathstroke isn't even really that good a shot, and that he smells bad, and that he's an asshole, and that he wears lifts in his shoes to make himself feel tall."

"One of those would even be true," Jason agreed. "Or maybe more. Dick, yes or no on the lifts?"

"He doesn't wear lifts," Dick confirmed. "But… he also doesn't always smell that great either."

"Ha!" Steph pumped her fist in the air. "Okay, I'm definitely spreading rumors that Deathstroke smells."

"We could the word of what happened in Gotham with the Joker," Damian said. "I imagine many of Deathstroke's clients would not be pleased to hear that he used a contract as a way to push his own desires, and then failed to complete the contract because of that."

"I can definitely make sure that rumor spreads," Babs said. "We need to figure out exactly what we do and don't want people to know, but I agree with Damian, that could probably do a number on his reputation."

"He's still going to be Deathstroke the Terminator, no matter what we do," Dick said. "He'll still get hired to kill people."

"Probably," Tim agreed, "but maybe he'll get hired less."

"Besides," Jason added, "if we can't kill Deathstroke, we've gotta ruin his life somehow. We'll kill his reputation."

Jason said the words with a slightly tentative expression, as if he were worried the joke had come too early. Dick, somewhat to his surprise, found himself laughing at it, and Jason relaxed.

"Okay, okay, go ahead. Tell the world that Deathstroke's not all he's cracked up to be."

"And that he smells!" Steph added. "I'm not letting that go. We're making sure everyone thinks of Deathstroke as super stinky."

"He doesn't actually smell that bad," Dick protested, although he couldn't help but grin as he said it.

"God, Dick, have you never met a high school girl in your life? Rumors don't need to be true, they just need to be mean."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Oh, definitely do not get on her bad side," Tim agreed fervently.

Steph blew him a kiss.

"Perhaps we may table the discussion of Deathstroke's general hygiene and have lunch instead," Alfred suggested. "Or we may continue the discussion over lunch, if we must. Far be it from me to impede any attempts to negatively impact Deathstroke's career."

"Lunch sounds good," Dick said, realizing that he actually had an appetite for the first time in days. "I can help you set up the table, if you want."

Alfred's gaze softened slightly. "If you wish to join me, dear boy, I would never refuse your company."

"We can all help," Tim offered. "Or we could just do a casual lunch in the kitchen, I guess."

"Let's all sit down together," Dick said. "I- I think that would be nice."

"Then we shall do it," Damian said, his voice firm and clearly not to be argued with. "Pennyworth, you may direct us all in setting the table."

"I would appreciate the help, Master Damian," Alfred agreed. "If you would all follow me, then."

Alfred commanded his kitchen like an army, and it didn't take long after they all reached it for him to organize everyone into specific jobs. While the others set the table or laid out food, Dick remained with Alfred in the kitchen, plating the dishes.

"I think I'd like to help in the kitchen more, if that's okay," Dick said as he tossed the salad. "It… It's relaxing, and I think I could use more relaxing things."

"My boy, I would love nothing more," Alfred agreed warmly. "But I assume that your siblings may wish to join in again, should this become a habit. Would you like to keep this as something between the two of us? I could tell them to keep a distance, if you would prefer it."

"I… I think it's okay if they join, as long as we can keep work out of it," Dick said. "I don't want to distance myself from everybody. Bruce offered too, and I do think that maybe it would make some things easier, but… When Deathstroke wanted me to join him again, I knew I couldn't do it because I didn't want to leave everyone. And when I thought I had to kill him, I did it to protect all of you. I love you, and I don't want anything to come between us. I just… can't tell everyone everything yet. Does that make sense?"

"It does indeed," Alfred assured him. "Sometimes, it is most difficult to share things with the people closest to us."

"Yeah, exactly. I just- I'll tell people things eventually, but I can't do it yet."

"You do not ever owe us the information, if you do not wish to share it," Alfred said. "It is yours to keep or share as you wish. And you may be a member of perhaps the nosiest family on this planet, if not in this galaxy, but should you ask for privacy, it will be respected."

"I know," Dick said, "but… I do want you to know. I don't want to feel like I'm hiding things from you, or like I have to tiptoe around things. I'm just not really ready for you to know yet. I… I know I agreed to write that report for Bruce, and I'm not upset that he asked me and I don't really regret doing it, but I wasn't really ready to share that yet either. If I can share things on my own time… I want to do that."

"Then we will not push," Alfred promised, "and we will wait until you are ready."

Dick finished with the salad, then he crossed the kitchen and pulled Alfred into a slightly startled hug. "I love you," he whispered.

Alfred wrapped his arms around Dick, and he squeezed tightly. "And I you, my boy. Very, very much."

Lunch was chaotic in just the way Dick had needed. Everyone was clearly doing their best to act normal, which meant that there were multiple arguments going on at the same time at any given moment, and there were three distinct instances where Bruce had to stop someone from throwing food at someone else. Dick was thrilled. It was the perfect way to decompress after everything that had happened over the past few days, and when he helped Alfred clear the plates afterwards, he was able to show Alfred that he'd eaten two sandwiches and a bowl of salad. He could see the way Alfred relaxed at the sight, and he pulled Alfred into another quick hug in apology for the stress he'd put him through before.

When the dishes were all cleared, Dick left the kitchen and wandered out into the rest of the Manor. He was pretty sure all his siblings would want to talk with him eventually, and he would talk to them, but first, he went to his room, and he sat on his bed and let himself breathe.

It wasn't over, not really. He wasn't sure it would ever be over, not as long as he and Deathstroke lived. But it was over for the moment, and the next time it happened, the next time Deathstroke came for him, Dick was pretty sure he would handle it better.

That was, he had to admit, a pretty low bar.

He hadn't been in his room for too long when there was a quiet knock at the door. "Come in," Dick called, and he wasn't surprised when the door opened to reveal Damian on the other side, Alfred the Cat in his arms.

"Richard. I- I wished to-"

"Come here," Dick said, patting the bed next to him. He was pretty sure all of his siblings would be clingier than usual, and Damian would likely be one of the worst.

Damian climbed up onto the bed, still holding Alfred the Cat. He looked small, but even still, Dick couldn't help but think of how much he'd grown in the six months that Dick had been Renegade. He'd missed so much, all because of Deathstroke.

If he'd killed Deathstroke, he wouldn't have gotten those months back. He probably would have lost more.

"Are you mad at me?" Dick asked.

Damian looked at him in shock. "Am I- Richard! Why would I- Are you truly so foolish?"

"You'd have the right to be. I did lie to you and keep things from you."

Damian sniffed imperiously. "I dislike your choices, but I understand why you would have erroneously thought they were your best option. It was still foolish, but I am not angry with you." He shot Dick a glare. "But you will not do such a thing again."

"Wasn't planning on it," Dick agreed, wrapping an arm around Damian's shoulders. "I shouldn't have done it in the first place."

"Indeed, you should not have."

They sat quietly for a few moments, then there was another knock on the door, and Duke poked his head in.

"Oh, hey, didn't mean to interrupt. I just, uh, wanted to check how you were doing, Dick."

"Come on in," Dick said, waving at Duke with his free arm. "The more the merrier. We can have a whole party in here."

"In that case, I should probably let you know that the others will almost definitely show up here before too long," Duke said, entering the room and walking over to the bed. "Damian and I definitely aren't the only ones who wanted to check on you."

"Well, we can let them in when they get here, and until then, we can hang out with the three Ds." Dick patted the side of the bed where Damian wasn't sitting, and Duke obligingly sat down. "Oh, by the way, you guys did really great work with that map. Deathstroke was hiding in the building where I saw him the first time."

"How did you know?" Duke asked. "I'm guessing it was more than just our map?"

"Deathstroke left me a stupidly complicated message on the walls of the Joker's cell. It was coordinates, and they led to that building."

"He wanted you to find him, then," Damian said.

Dick nodded. "Yeah, but he didn't want me to find him too fast. I definitely figured out the message quicker than he thought."

"Of course he would underestimate you," Damian dismissed. "Deathstroke is a poor judge of character in many ways."

"He thinks Dick would be a good assassin," Duke said. "He's the worst judge of character."

"In fairness to him, I was an assassin for a while," Dick said, almost able to keep his voice light enough for it to be a proper joke.

"Doesn't count if you were brainwashed, not unless Deathstroke wanted to brainwash you again."

"Deathstroke is officially never allowed to brainwash anyone ever," Steph said as she strolled through the door, Cass and Babs behind her. "He doesn't even wash himself properly. Because he stinks."

"You're really stuck on that idea," Dick said, grinning at her.

"Well, we're definitely going to ruin his professional reputation, but why not add a little pizazz? Why not ruin his personal reputation while we're at it? I would just spread rumors that he's a massive jerk, but everyone always knows that and it hasn't done anything, so we need to try something else. And to be honest, Deathstroke kinda looks like the type of guy who would smell. Helmets tend to be stinky."

"Don't let Jason hear you say that," Babs warned.

"Eh, Jason can suck it. And if he's really offended, he can take it up with Cass."

"Why Cass?" Dick asked.

"Cass is always willing to help me fight my own stupid battles," Steph said. "Right, Cass?"

Cass nodded solemnly. "I would fight any of you for Steph."

"Glad to know where we all stand on your list of priorities," Duke said.

Cass just grinned.

"Batgirl solidarity," Babs said. "We all fight each other's stupid battles."

"Steph is also a Robin," Dick countered. "So we should properly get shared custody of her."

"Nah, I'm sticking with Babs," Steph said. "Batgirls are friends who work together and are able to pass down the mantle in a normal way. Robins all try to kill each other and hate each other until they finally manage to work their shit out. I'd rather be a Batgirl."

"Ouch," Dick said, pressing a hand to his chest. "I've never tried to kill another Robin."

"You're the exception."

"I was the first!"

"Should have chosen better people to take up your mantle then," Babs said. "Like I did."

"Richard is quite capable at choosing people to take on the Robin mantle," Damian protested. "After all, I was the only one that he directly chose."

"And you tried to kill Tim," Steph countered. "Which, I mean, I totally get, but it still kinda proves my point."

"Why are you talking about killing me?" Tim asked, ducking his head into the room and looking mildly alarmed. "Also, screw you too, Steph."

"We're talking about how Batgirls are better at passing down the mantle than Robins," Dick said.

"Huh. Why?"

"Babs and I are fighting for custody of Steph."

"I don't know why I thought asking for clarification would make me less confused."

"Yeah," Steph agreed, "that's on you. And you're not fighting for custody of me because I'm an adult and I've already refused your custody, Dick."

"Ouch," Tim said, sitting on the corner of Dick's desk.

"Do you see what I put up with?" Dick told him dramatically. "You should have seen them at the Clocktower the other day. Everyone in this family gangs up on me."

"Everyone in this family gangs up on everybody," Tim replied with a shrug. "It's kinda what we do."

"And you were stupid," Cass added. "You got blown up."

"Non-critically!"

"The fact that you think you can be blown up in a non-critical way is worrying," Duke remarked.

"Eh, you'll understand when you're older."

"You won't," Babs told Duke. "Dick is just stupid."

"We making fun of Dickface?" Jason asked from the doorway. "Or are we having a party in his room? Damn."

"Told you everyone would be coming," Duke murmured.

"Just missing Bruce and Alfred," Dick agreed. "Alfred the Person, not Alfred the Cat."

"If we are including pets, we are also missing Titus," Damian added. "But he was sleeping on my bed, and I did not wish to wake him."

"We don't need Bruce anyway," Jason said, leaning against the doorframe. "We can keep it just kids."

"Pretty sure most people in this room are legal adults," Tim said. Jason made a face at him.

"Does that mean Alfred the Human isn't invited?" Dick asked.

Jason looked horrified. "Of course he is. Alfred is always welcome."

Dick laughed, amazed how easy it was now. Even a few hours earlier, the mere thought had been almost impossible. "Just kids, then, and Alfred, if he wants to join."

"You seem better," Cass told Dick. "Lighter."

"I am," Dick said with a nod. "And I'm really sorry about lying to everyone. I was just a bit of a mess, with Deathstroke and everything, and I made bad choices."

"Yeah, it's happened before, it'll happen again," Jason dismissed, waving his hand.

"Do you mean that generally with all of us, or with me specifically?" Dick asked.

"Yes."

"You can be a mess a lot," Babs told Dick. "I mean, we all love you, but even before Renegade, you were a hot mess at last half the time."

Dick sighed. "At least I'm hot. I've got that going for me."

"Oh, and if you try to pull shit like this again, I'll put bars on your window and lock you in here like a Gothic heroine," Babs added.

Jason perked up slightly. "Dick, did you actually read Wuthering Heights?"

"I am offended by the tone of surprise, but yeah, I did," Dick agreed. "And Babs, I thought you promised to help me break out if Bruce trapped me in here."

"Yeah, but that was with the whole sneaking out and getting blown up thing," Babs said. "This is for the future. If you lie to us and try to take Deathstroke on alone again, then clearly you need to be locked up like a Gothic heroine for your own safety."

"Love that we're specifically locking him up like a Gothic heroine," Steph said. "Would we need to bring him to the moors to get it right, though? Maybe we should move to a different manor in the middle of the UK, where there's lots of fog outside and no one anywhere nearby, and probably some sort of haunted dog that lives in the rocks nearby."

"You're mixing up Wuthering Heights and Hound of the Baskervilles," Jason told her.

"Yeah, and you're a nerd. Next question?"

"She's got you there," Tim told Jason gleefully.

Jason put Tim in a headlock.

"This family is weird," Duke remarked as Tim swore and did his best to squirm away.

"Does that mean you'll be on my side if Babs tries to lock me up like a Gothic heroine?" Dick asked.

"Nah, I trust her judgment. If she does it, it's for a reason."

"Dammit." Dick sighed. "Can't really blame you for trusting Babs's judgment, though. She is generally right."

"Generally?" Babs repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Dick offered her his most dazzling grin. "Always?"

"That's more like it."

"So it's decided, then," Steph declared. "Dick won't be an idiot, and if he is, we'll all gang up on him and lock him up like a Gothic heroine. Ooh, a Gotham Gothic heroine. Gothamic heroine?"

"Don't start with the portmanteaus," Jason scolded, still wrestling with Tim, "you'll end up as bad as Dick."

"Um, I resent the implication that my portmanteaus are bad."

"I would not lock you in your room, Grayson," Damian told him.

"Thanks, Dami, I knew I could count on you."

"But if you do end up doing something this foolish again, I will ensure that you regret it."

Dick frowned. "Is that better or worse than getting locked up like a Gothic heroine?"

"Worse," Cass chimed in.

"Dami, you sure you don't want to join in the whole Gothic heroine thing? Family bonding?"

"If you would prefer that, then the fear of my retaliation will be a more effective deterrent."

"You're a little scary sometimes," Duke told Damian.

Damian inclined his head. "Thank you."

"Not sure that was a compliment," Tim called, having finally escaped Jason's hold.

Duke shook his head. "No, it was."

"Think about it," Jason said to Dick, sitting behind Duke and slinging an awkward arm around Dick's shoulders. "If you'd been even stupider with Deathstroke earlier, then maybe you wouldn't have had the chance to get threatened by your whole family now."

Dick grinned at him. "Then I guess I should be glad I wasn't stupider, huh?"

"I think," Steph declared, "that we should all jump on Dick now to show him we're glad he wasn't stupider? Everybody, on three?"

Damian quickly passed Alfred the Cat over to Babs. "I trust you will protect him."

"Whoa," Dick said, looking around, "hey, you don't all need to jump at the same time-"

"One," Steph cried, "two, three!"

It was a bit hard to breathe with all his siblings on top of him and Babs laughing at him with Alfred the Cat in her lap like a Bond villain. It was worth it.