Deathstroke was a well-known mercenary, but he was also an assassin, and that meant he knew how to do things quietly. He broke the Joker out of Arkham so quietly that even the Bats didn't know until the next morning.
And then, of course, all hell broke loose.
"We all need to be on high alert," Bruce said firmly, as they looked over the footage from Arkham. There was no evidence of Deathstroke's arrival, or even evidence that showed when exactly he grabbed the Joker; the Joker was there, and then the cameras flickered, and he was gone. "Damian, Duke, you'll have to miss school for the next few days. I'll contact your teachers. Stephanie, you'll have to miss classes as well, and Tim, Wayne Enterprises will have to get along without you."
"We're all going to be careful," Steph promised. "We won't mess around with the Joker."
"Dick," Bruce continued, "I think it's best if you stay home as well."
It took a moment for Dick to comprehend the words. He was too busy staring at the screen, watching as it replayed the moment where the cameras flickered and the Joker disappeared. Deathstroke had been there, and he'd gotten exactly what he wanted. He was a step ahead of them, just like he always was.
"Dick," Bruce repeated, and Dick blinked up at him, finally recognizing his voice. "You're staying home."
"I need to help with this," Dick said, his voice coming out rougher than he'd expected. He swallowed hard and added, "Deathstroke is here for me. He's not going to let me stay out of it."
"Exactly. Deathstroke is here for you, so you should avoid him as much as you can. And you're distracted. You're not going out."
Dick would just have to go out later, without Bruce's permission. He couldn't stay behind, not when the Joker was loose, not when Deathstroke was pointing him directly at the family like a cannon that might go off at any moment.
"Okay," he said to Bruce, instead of admitting to any of that. "Okay, but just for now. And if there's an emergency, I'm going out."
Bruce nodded, looking relieved. He hadn't expected Dick to give in so easily, clearly, but he did accept that Dick had. Dick wished he didn't have to lie to him.
He ignored the way Cass was looking at him. He had to pretend to be normal as much as possible and just hope that she wouldn't pick up on anything. His chances weren't particularly high, but he could do his best.
"So what's the plan?" Jason asked. "We're fighting Deathstroke and the Joker now. How are we going to nail the bastards?"
"Deathstroke is going to do his best to pull the strings, but the Joker doesn't traditionally let other people control him," Babs said through a video call. She was still at the Clocktower, using her expansive systems to search for any traces of the Joker or Deathstroke, but she would be coming over to the Manor soon, and she'd be staying. Dick had had to almost beg her to agree to it, but she gave in, probably more to lessen his panic than anything else. Dick was aware that she could take care of herself and that the Clocktower had defenses to rival the Manor, but he couldn't bear the thought of anyone being too far away, and he couldn't shake the horrible idea that Deathstroke might target Babs specifically. Babs would probably be fine in the Clocktower, but he could keep an eye on her at the Manor, and he didn't think he'd be able to relax at all if he wasn't able to keep an eye on her.
He'd already accepted that he'd probably drive both Babs and Damian crazy with his hovering over the next few days, but he couldn't imagine doing anything else, except going after Deathstroke and the Joker at the source. He'd do it once he figured out where they were.
Deathstroke would tell him soon enough, Dick knew. It was just a matter of watching for the right signs.
Speaking of signs…
"Someone should check out the Joker's cell in Arkham," Dick said. "To check if there are any hints of how Deathstroke got him out or where they plan to go next."
"Good thought," Bruce agreed.
"And I know I just agreed to stay home, but I should really be the one who goes."
"Absolutely not."
"I hate to admit it, but Dick might have a point," Babs said ruefully. "Deathstroke has already left secret messages for him that we wouldn't be able to translate. He might have left another one in the cell, and the rest of us would miss it."
"I don't like it," Bruce said, shaking his head. "In that case, it would be a perfect trap."
"Come with me, then," Dick offered. "We can check it together, and you can keep an eye on me and make sure nothing happens. But someone needs to look it over, and it makes the most sense for it to be me."
Bruce still didn't look happy, but he did look somewhat appeased at the thought of going with Dick, as Dick knew he would. "Just a quick trip. And Tim and Cass will come as backup."
Four people to check an empty cell in Arkham was overkill, but Dick didn't bother to even try calling Bruce out on it; he knew Bruce wouldn't budge. It wasn't the worst thing in the world, honestly. Cass and Tim could watch for threats while Dick and Bruce examined the room, so they wouldn't have to split their attention as much. Dick didn't think either of them would be able to fully relax, but at least they could trust someone else to have their back.
"We should go as soon as possible," Dick said. "It'll take time for Deathstroke and the Joker to figure out the next step of whatever their plan is, but not long. And we also want to make sure we get to the room before someone on the Arkham staff cleans it."
"Arkham staff are notoriously pretty useless," Jason said. "I don't think you probably have to worry too much about that."
"Arkham staff tend to always do whatever's going to make it harder for us to do our jobs, though, so if they're ever going to be efficient, it'll be with this," Steph countered.
Jason nodded. "Fair, they would."
"We can go now," Bruce said, looking at Dick, Tim, and Cass. "Are you all ready?"
"I think we all just need to change," Tim said. "And then we'll be ready to go."
They were all tired from their patrol the night before, and usually, they'd take some time to rest before going out again. They didn't have time to waste, though, and it wasn't as if they didn't all have more experience than they probably should with sleep deprivation, so no one said a word as they went to get into their suits. Dick changed back into his Nightwing suit as quickly as he could, hating the way his brain wondered how many more times he would wear it. He'd gone back to it after his time as Renegade, but he hadn't done those things in his right mind. If he killed Deathstroke, knowing full well what he was doing, could he go back to Nightwing afterwards?
He wouldn't kill Deathstroke in his Nightwing costume. He knew that much. He wouldn't tarnish Nightwing like that, not the legacy Bruce had given him or the name from Clark. He'd keep Nightwing's hands clean. The blood would only be on Dick Grayson's.
He joined the others when they were all changed, and they all piled into the Batmobile. Tim and Cass offered Dick the front seat without a fight, and Dick wondered if they were going to spend the ride talking about him in sign. If they angled their hands right, he wouldn't really be able to see them without turning around in his seat.
He imagined everyone was going to be talking about him now. He didn't let himself care. As long as they didn't do anything stupid that got themselves killed, he didn't care what his siblings said. He just cared about keeping them safe.
The drive to Arkham wasn't too long, and once they arrived, Tim and Cass melted into the shadows to keep watch while Bruce and Dick approached the gate. The guards let them in, if with a bit of a disgruntled air, and they went to the Joker's cell. Dick looked around slowly as they entered, his heart sinking. It was possible that Deathstroke had left him a message, but given how much of the Joker's writing there was on the walls, it wouldn't be easy to find. The Joker's writing could be useful too, though, and he couldn't risk missing a message from Deathstroke, so Dick started reading.
Bruce pulled out a small camera from his utility belt, because of course he had a camera in his utility belt, and started taking photos. "Whether the writing is from Deathstroke or the Joker, it would be good to analyze," he told Dick, photographing each section of the wall systematically.
"Do you think there's any clues in here that we can actually understand?" Dick asked. "It mostly just looks like unhinged rambling."
"A lot of what the Joker says is just unhinged rambling," Bruce replied. Dick conceded the point. "The trouble is figuring out what's important and what isn't."
"I'll keep looking specifically for something from Deathstroke," Dick said, scanning the walls. He looked up at the ceiling too, examining it and checking if there were any loose ceiling tiles that might hide anything. He found nothing, but he couldn't help but think there had to be some sort of message. Deathstroke wanted Dick to find him. He didn't want it to be too easy, but he wanted it to be possible, and this would be the best way to let him know where to go.
Deathstroke wanted him to kill the Joker, so he couldn't let Dick stay away too long.
Dick eventually found the mark on the wall near the Joker's bed, something that looked like a chip in the wall where the bed frame had hit against it. It was too deliberate, though, and Dick lay down on his stomach on the floor, checking under the bed like the mark told him to. His fingers found the slip of paper, and he slid it into his glove as seamlessly as possible.
"Anything over there?" Bruce asked.
"Nothing," Dick lied without skipping a beat. "There's so much writing on the walls, it's hard to see if there's anything from Deathstroke. It's going to take a while to examine everything."
"Do you need to do it here, or could you check the photos?" Bruce asked.
"I want to look around a bit more, then we can head back and I'll examine the photos," Dick replied. "Give me another few minutes?"
"I'll look as well, for anything that sticks out," Bruce replied.
Dick dutifully examined the whole room closely. He found a bloodstain that almost looked like it could be a message, but upon further examination, he was pretty sure it was really just a bloodstain, nothing more. Bruce watched him examine it, and Dick considered lying again and making up a meaning for it, but he ultimately decided against it. He did take a picture of the bloodstain with Bruce's camera, though, and decided that if things got to the point where he really needed to redirect his family, he would consider it.
He hated even thinking about that. He knew it could happen. He couldn't let them get too close, especially not with the Joker fully in the picture as well. Deathstroke was bad enough, but at least he would target Dick specifically. The Joker would go after any of them, especially if he thought it would hurt Bruce. Dick had to shield his family, and if he had to do it with his own body, then he would.
If he had to do so against their will, he would.
"Okay," Dick said after a few moments, "I think I'm good. I can look over the pictures more when we get back to the Manor, but I'm not seeing anything obvious here."
"Do you think Deathstroke might have hidden the message to delay you?" Bruce asked as they made their way back to the Batmobile.
"Yeah, possibly," Dick agreed, grasping onto the idea like a lifeline. "He wants me to come after him and the Joker, but probably not quite this fast. He might have purposefully left me a difficult message to delay me, or he might not have even left anything yet. He probably knew I'd check the Joker's cell, since he probably already knows I checked the safe houses, so he might be hoping to delay me with it."
"Then do you think we should bother looking over the walls more closely, if the cell is just a diversion?"
"It might be a diversion, it might be a message, or it might be some sort of double-bluff combination of the two. I really don't know, so I think we need to be safe and check over the pictures."
Bruce nodded. "We can look them over on the computer."
"The Batcomputer might be helpful, actually, since we can blow the pictures up," Dick agreed.
Bruce sighed slightly. "Do you always have to call it that? Even in public?"
"Okay, first of all, no one is listening to us, and second of all, that's what it's called."
"That's what you called it."
"And it stuck. It stuck so much that my bat puns were some of the only things I remembered when I had amnesia. It's the Batcomputer in the Batcave, and we'll drive there in the Batmobile. This is a losing battle, B."
Bruce sighed again.
"What are you saying to B to make him sigh like that?" Tim asked as they rejoined them at the Batmobile doors.
"Using lots of bat puns," Dick replied. "He doesn't appreciate my genius."
"Can you appreciate what isn't there?" Tim countered.
"Rude," Dick told him firmly. "So rude and completely uncalled for."
"Sit in the back with me," Cass told Dick. "Rude people can sit in the front."
Dick laughed and slid agreeably into the backseat with Cass. She wanted something, he was certain, but he had to play it off as if he wasn't worried. Cass could probably see through him, of course, but he didn't have to make it easy for her.
Bruce started back towards the Manor, and Tim snagged the camera from his belt and started looking through the pictures. Dick and Cass rode in silence for the first few minutes, then Cass looked over at Dick and signed, "Are you alright?"
"About as good as can be expected, I think," Dick signed back.
"I am worried you will do something stupid."
"Honestly, probably a fair concern when it comes to me."
Cass gave Dick a stern look. Dick couldn't really bring himself to regret the flippancy; he was pretty sure he needed it to get through this conversation. Deflecting with humor was his thing, after all.
"You are afraid of Deathstroke," Cass signed. "But you are also afraid of us."
Dick frowned. "I'm not afraid of you."
"You are afraid of something to do with us. You are afraid when you speak with us. What are you scared of?"
Dick hesitated. "You getting hurt, I guess. I know Deathstroke is dangerous, and I don't want him to hurt you."
"We can take care of ourselves."
"I know. I'm still worried."
Cass studied him closely, too closely. "I am worried you will do something stupid," she repeated.
"I won't," Dick promised. It wasn't a lie, he told himself; Cass might deem his plans stupid, but they were the only real option, so he didn't think they were. The stupid thing would be to let Deathstroke hurt his family when he could stop him.
Cass studied Dick closely. "You are telling the truth," she declared after a moment. "But I am still worried."
Dick sighed. "And I'm worried about all of you, so everyone is worried. I think we all will be until Deathstroke is dealt with."
Cass pressed her lips together, but she kept her hands still and silent for the rest of the ride. Dick did the same. He could feel the slip of paper in his glove with every movement, and he thought the anticipation of waiting to see what it said might drive him insane.
When they returned to the Manor, Bruce made a beeline for the computer to upload the pictures. Tim followed him, only halfway through looking them over himself. Steph and Jason had gone to the Clocktower to pick up Babs, and Alfred was manning comms with them while Damian and Duke sat in the corner with printouts from the computer spread around them. Cass went over to join them, but Dick went over to the bathroom first, to change out of his suit.
The paper in his glove was small, when he slipped it out, and folded over. When Dick unfolded it, there were two words.
Not yet.
Dick looked over the entire paper carefully, checking for any markings that might convey some additional meaning. He couldn't find anything, and frustration bubbled up within him until he thought he might choke on it. What did Deathstroke mean, not yet? He wanted Dick to kill the Joker, didn't he? Why was he delaying it? Why couldn't he just let Dick find him and get it over with?
Probably, Dick reflected, because Deathstroke didn't think he was desperate enough to kill yet. He thought Dick would just show up, try to fight Deathstroke, and try to arrest the Joker. The Joker hadn't done anything yet, at least not this time around; Deathstroke didn't think he'd done enough for Dick to put a bullet through his head.
He wasn't entirely wrong. Part of Dick would love to shoot the Joker, but he wasn't going to. But Deathstroke was also wrong in thinking Dick wasn't desperate enough to kill, because he was, just not the person Deathstroke wanted him to.
Dick swallowed the note, then he took off his suit quickly and changed back into his regular clothes. He took a few deep breaths, splashed some water on his face, and then went out to join the others.
Bruce and Tim were busy at the computer, so Dick went over to Duke, Damian, and Cass. "What are you guys looking at?" he asked, sitting cross-legged next to them.
"We are attempting to determine where Deathstroke might be," Damian said.
"We've got a map," Duke added, showing it to Dick, "and we're trying to cross-reference the places where Deathstroke's safe houses were with the places the Joker usually hides out. If there's any overlap, we figured that might be a good place to check."
"Deathstroke is obviously in charge of the partnership, but the Joker will not be easy to manage," Damian added. "In some situations, Deathstroke might find it easiest to allow for a compromise, and the placement of the safe house seems like a likely scenario."
"That's a good point," Dick said, looking over the map. Deathstroke's safe houses were marked in orange, and the Joker's were marked in green. "It might also be a good idea to cross-reference some of the other Rogues, especially anyone who's not in Arkham right now. They wouldn't want Deathstroke and the Joker to move into their territory."
"The plan is to do that next, after we find any overlap," Duke replied. "If we just start marking the territories of every single Rogue, the map will be a mess."
Cass looked it over, gently tracing her finger over the roads. "Here is where the bomb was," she said, pointing at one of the orange marks. She looked up at Dick. "You said he did not like it."
"No, he wasn't a huge fan of that safe house," Dick agreed. "That's probably why he blew it up."
Cass looked contemplative. "Will he use it? Because he does not like it, and you know that?"
"He might," Dick said, "but I'm not sure. Like I told Babs, we both know each other well enough that any attempts to figure out what the other will do next will probably just end up trying to navigate a whole mess of bluffs and double bluffs and triple bluffs."
"Then we should keep the spot in our referencing without any additional considerations?" Damian asked.
Dick shrugged. "I guess. Deathstroke doesn't like the area, which probably means he either won't want to go there or will want to go there to catch me off guard. Those average out to neutral."
"We can still make a mark of it," Duke said, picking up the orange marker and drawing a little star next to the spot.
"Do you have any additional information about any of the other safe houses?" Damian asked Dick, looking at him with a slight frown.
Dick looked over the map. "This was our primary safe house," he said, tapping one of them. "Which might mean that he avoids it because it's obvious, or he might be counting on me to think that and using it."
"Another one where it averages out to neutral?" Duke asked, drawing another star.
"Yeah, pretty much." Dick continued studying the map. "This isn't one of his safe houses," he said, tapping one of the orange-marked spots.
"That is where you confronted Deathstroke at the beginning of this mess," Damian said. "It is a location that he previously used, and from looking at the building itself, it seems to be abandoned. It would work as a safe house."
"You think Deathstroke lead me directly to his safe house? Isn't that a little risky?"
"Would he not expect you to think that?" Damian countered. "It is not a tactically sound move, but on occasion, that makes a move against a logical opponent even better. Deathstroke may be counting on us to dismiss it."
It was a good point. Dick stared at the map again. "Should we check it out, then?"
"No one's checking anything out without figuring out a plan with everyone," Duke said. "But if you think it might be worth a shot, we can bring it up with B."
"I… don't know," Dick said slowly. He did think that perhaps it was worth a shot, but he didn't want to drag the rest of his family into it. "Is there a way we could figure out if Deathstroke is there without confronting him yet?"
"Perhaps," Damian said slowly. "Deathstroke is rather good at hiding himself, but the Joker leaves certain trails. I imagine he would be easier to track than Deathstroke."
"The Joker isn't always easy to track," Duke countered. "He can be pretty hard to find when he's trying to be."
"Agreed, but in this situation, I am not certain he will be. Deathstroke is taking charge, after all, and I imagine the Joker would not be opposed to the level of chaos that might ensue should we confront Deathstroke before he is fully prepared."
"You think the Joker might leave clues for us to find him, just for the chaos?" Dick asked.
"I believe that working with Deathstroke offers the Joker his best chance at success. However, I also think that the Joker would be entertained should Deathstroke fail. He may not actively leave clues for us, but I doubt he would clean up after himself particularly well either."
"Would Deathstroke?" Cass asked.
"He'd do as much as he can," Dick said. "At least until he wants me to find them, and then he'll probably leave a clue."
"There was nothing in the cell?" Damian asked.
Dick shook his head. "There's writing all over the walls, but it all looks like the Joker's. I need to analyze it more to be sure." He shrugged. "It might be Deathstroke trying to buy time by making me search for something that isn't even there. Or there might be something essential hidden. There's no way to be sure, which means we have to err on the side of caution and look closely at every possible place where there could be evidence."
"Do you think the Joker's writing could be helpful in dealing with him?" Duke asked.
"Depends on how much influence Deathstroke lets him have over the whole plan." Dick reached out and squeezed Duke's shoulder gently. "You've been holding up really well, by the way. I'm proud."
"I'm doing my best," Duke replied with a slight shrug, although Dick could see that he appreciated the praise. "Anyway, can't be a Gotham vigilante and fall apart whenever the Joker starts causing problems, since that basically happens every other week."
"Still. If you need a break, let us know."
"Don't we need to deal with this as quickly as possible?"
"Not at your expense," Dick told Duke firmly. "Your wellbeing comes first."
Damian hummed. "I hope you remember that applies to you as well, Richard."
"Oh, I see how it is. Turning my own words against me."
"If it is what it takes for you to take some level of care of yourself," Damian agreed primly.
Cass tapped a spot on the map, somewhere neither Duke nor Damian had marked. It wasn't far from where Dick had confronted Deathstroke.
"There is always fighting here."
Dick looked more closely. "Yeah, that's the intersection of a couple of different Rogues' territories, so they tend to all fight over it. Why?"
Cass frowned. "It would be a good place to hide."
"It is a mess there," Duke agreed. "If you wanted to disappear, you could probably do it there." He picked up a black marker and drew another little star. "It's something to look into."
"Has anyone found any other hints of Deathstroke since his return?" Damian asked. "Thus far, Richard has confronted him here, he set up a bomb here, and he broke the Joker out of Arkham here. Should we assume he has set up a base somewhere not far from these places?"
Dick looked over the map. "I mean, they're not that close. Especially Arkham. I don't think he probably took Arkham's location into account too much."
There was another spot where Dick had confronted Deathstroke, even if no one else knew about it. He didn't dare touch it, but he did find the spot. It wasn't too far from the spot where Dick had confronted Deathstroke the first time, and neither were too far from the safe house that Deathstroke had blown up. It didn't necessarily mean anything, but it could. Deathstroke did always prize efficiency above everything else. Did that mean he would want to keep everything close? It would make it more efficient to move between places. On the other hand, would he want to stay as far away from those places as possible? He only wanted Dick to find him on his terms, after all.
He had to know Dick would be searching for him with the rest of his family. He had to know that Dick would be trying to figure out where he was hiding. The only question was, how many bluffs had Deathstroke decided to put into place?
Cass tapped Dick on the shoulder lightly. "Tired?"
Dick realized he'd been staring blankly at the map for too long. He looked up at Cass with a rueful grin.
"Is it that obvious?"
"We should all go to sleep," Damian said. "Once Brown and Todd return with Gordon, we ought to institute the command. We will not be at our best otherwise."
"Okay, but you're wrangling Bruce, then," Dick told him.
Damian sniffed. "I will enlist Pennyworth if I must. Father cannot stand up to both of us."
"Who's wrangling you?" Duke asked Dick. "Cause I don't think you've been sleeping a lot since Deathstroke arrived, have you?"
"Wow, right for the jugular," Dick said, aware that no one would let him play it off as a joke. "I'll definitely admit that I'm not sleeping too soundly, but I also don't need as much sleep as the rest of you. Meta privilege."
"Super serum privilege," Duke corrected. "I'm a meta too, remember."
"Okay, meta privilege for cool metas. Point still stands."
"You should still sleep if you wish to be maximumly efficient," Damian scolded. "Even if you do not require it in the same way we do, you are clearly tired now."
Dick was, but it was a weariness that had less to do with a lack of sleep and more to do with the way everything that was happening was weighing on him. He didn't think sleep would help. Only dealing with Deathstroke would help.
"I'll do my best," he promised Damian. "I'll go into my room and lie down on my bed and everything."
"Will you close your eyes?" Duke asked dryly.
"You drive a hard bargain."
"Steph and Jason are back with Barbara," Cass said, standing to cross to them immediately.
"Shows us who her favorites are," Dick murmured, but he got up to follow her. He wanted to see that Steph and Jason were back, and that Babs was safe in the Cave. He didn't know for certain that Deathstroke would target her in particular, but it made sense, and if Dick had thought of it, Deathstroke probably had too. Babs could take care of herself, of course, but not against Deathstroke. None of them could take care of themselves against Deathstroke.
He stopped, though, when he felt a hand on his arm. "Dick, can we talk for a minute?"
Dick turned to Duke. "Sure, no problem. What is it?"
Duke looked at Dick with a far too serious expression, and Dick felt his stomach twist as he guessed where this was going. "I'm fine," he said preemptively. "I know everyone is worried about me, but-"
"You wanna let me talk before you start replying to something I haven't said yet?" Duke cut in dryly.
"Right, my bad. What is it, Duke?"
Duke stared at him for another moment, then said, "You remember that first escrima lesson we did together, after you came back?"
Dick did. He didn't want to. "What about it?"
"You wanted to protect me. From everyone, even yourself. And I convinced you that you could trust me to protect myself, remember?"
Dick wasn't entirely sure he liked where this was going. "I do."
"So trust me now," Duke said simply. "Trust all of us. I know you're worried that we're going to get hurt, but we're all trained, and we're all good at what we do. I'm not saying you can't worry about us, because I know you will no matter what, but trust that we can take care of ourselves, and that we're all going to be careful. It doesn't have to all fall on you."
Dick pressed his lips together. It was true, the others could take care of themselves, but Deathstroke and the Joker were two of their most dangerous enemies, and they'd gotten the better of them before. Dick was the strongest now, and that meant he had to be their protector.
"And I know what you're going to say, you're stronger and you heal and you're the best shield for all of us," Duke added, as if he could read his mind. "And I get that, but you're still our brother too. We're a team. And that means we work together to keep all of us safe, not just on our own trying to protect everyone."
Dick studied Duke for a moment, then huffed out something that was almost a laugh. "I bet you were a really good leader for We Are Robin, huh?"
"I did my best," Duke replied with a grin. "But just… keep it in mind, okay? We're strongest if we work together. We don't need you to be our shield, we need you to be part of our team."
Dick forced a smile and slung an arm around Duke's shoulders. "You're a good brother, you know that?"
"I do my best there too." Duke's smile widened. "Good thing my best is pretty damn good."
Dick let out a surprised laugh, one that was almost real, and squeezed Duke to his side gently in a sideways hug. He did love him, really.
He just wished he hadn't said anything he'd just said, because it was the last thing Dick needed to hear to keep his already-weak resolve from crumbling further.
"Let's go check in with the others," he said, letting Duke go. "And then Damian will probably wrangle us all to bed. He seemed pretty dead-set on it."
"Yeah, probably," Duke agreed. "Not like it's a bad thing for all of us to get some rest."
Dick didn't think he'd be able to get any, but he didn't admit that. "You're probably right."
They walked over to the others together. Damian and Cass were already there, and Tim was still tapping at the computer, but Steph, Jason, and Babs were checking in with Bruce. "It was a totally smooth ride," Steph was saying when Dick approached. "Except for Jason's shitty driving."
"I am not a shitty driver!" Jason protested.
"Do you even have a license?" Steph demanded. "No, I'm asking honestly, do you? You were dead when you sixteen, did anyone teach you how to drive?"
"Hey, I won rock-paper-scissors fair and square, that means I got to drive."
"If I'd known how bad you are at driving, I would have fought harder for it."
"No trouble from Deathstroke or the Joker?" Dick asked. "Or anything at the Clocktower?"
"Nothing I could see," Babs promised. "And trust me, I was looking."
"You'll still stay here, right?" Dick asked. "We're safer together."
He tried not to let Duke's words twist his stomach too much.
Babs reached out a hand to him, and Dick stepped forward to take it. "I think I'd be safe at the Clocktower, but it's important to you that we're all here, so I'll stay. I can monitor things from the Cave almost as well as the Clocktower anyway. And if I do end up needing to go back for anything, I won't go alone."
Dick would prefer she not go back at all, but he knew her bargain was fair. "Okay. I can agree with that."
"Father," Damian declared, "we all ought to rest. We will not operate at maximum efficiency if we do not."
"Do you mean to make us sound like robots?" Jason asked.
Damian scowled. "We cannot afford to be at anything but our best. That means we must all take care of ourselves, and part of that includes sufficient sleep. Do you wish to fight Deathstroke while overtired?"
"Damian's right," Dick said, although he didn't want any of them to fight Deathstroke in any condition. "Come on, B, you know you'll be able to work better after some sleep."
Bruce sighed deeply. "I imagine you will both continue to push until we all get some rest?"
"You are correct," Damian agreed. "And I am not against bringing Pennyworth into it, if necessary."
"Which means you're not opposed to drugging Bruce's coffee," Jason translated.
"Alfred does that?" Tim demanded, head jerking up from the computer.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I thought Bruce was the one drugging my coffee!"
"B also does it," Dick agreed. "Where do you think he learned it from? Where do you think we all learned it from?"
"You drug people's coffee?" Tim cried, looking as if he was going to be extremely suspicious of anything he drank in the foreseeable future.
"I've been known to, when necessary."
"We've all got dubious morality and like drugging people's drinks more than we probably should, this isn't news," Jason declared. "Unless you're Tim, I guess."
"Shut up, Jason."
Damian clapped sharply. "To bed, everyone. Now."
"Bossy," Cass said, tousling his hair. Dick was honesty surprised Damian didn't try to bite her, but maybe he just knew he couldn't win a fight against Cass.
"Bossy but right," Dick said. "Come on, Damian and I aren't sheepdogs and we shouldn't have to herd you all up the stairs. Let's go."
Damian perked up slightly. "Would a sheepdog help in that endeavor?"
"You are not getting another dog."
"Father!"
"I don't know about all of you, but I'm tired, and I'm going to bed," Duke declared. "And unlike the rest of you, I'm not going to be weird about it."
"You're weird about other things," Steph told him.
"Never said I wasn't, but I'm not going to be weird about sleeping when I'm exhausted. I had the day shift too, remember?"
"We should all go," Damian said, looking as if he were dangerously close to stomping his foot in frustration. "Come on, Father."
"B, I'll stay here and annoy you until you go to bed, you know I will," Dick added.
Bruce sighed deeply, but he did stand up and start heading towards the stairs. Everyone filed after him, if with a few glares, and they all spilled out into the Manor, either from the stairs or the elevator.
"Ah, what a pleasant surprise," Alfred said, looking around. "I'd rather expected I would have to drag you all to bed tonight. Which of you was practical enough to suggest otherwise?"
"Damian," Dick said. "He's a smart kid."
"Indeed you are, Master Damian. And I must say, well done in managing this trick."
"I said I would involve you, if necessary," Damian replied. "Luckily, the others complied."
"We should start working again in the morning," Bruce said. "We can discuss over breakfast-"
"Yeah, but that's over breakfast, and tonight, it's time to sleep," Steph cut in. "I'm tired."
"Me too," Jason agreed. "Last one to their room is a rotten egg!"
He tore off, and almost everyone sprinted after him. Only Dick, Bruce, and Alfred were left, and Dick only remained because he wanted to say something to them.
"We need to be careful," he said, looking between them. "Both when we're out and when we're here. Deathstroke knows who I am. I don't think he would target the Manor openly, but he might, if he gets desperate."
"The Manor has its defenses," Alfred promised.
"Deathstroke's not going to get to us," Bruce added. "We're going to beat him, chum. We'll be alright."
Dick nodded. The movement was a bit jerkier than usual; he hoped he played it off. "Goodnight, then."
"Goodnight, Master Dick."
"Night, Dick."
Dick didn't run to his room, but he didn't pause at all on the way there either. When he entered it, he closed the door behind him and made it almost all the way to the bed before his breathing went too tight to keep moving.
They'd be fine. His family would be fine. He'd stop Deathstroke in time, even if Deathstroke's note was stupidly unhelpful, and he'd keep his family safe. Deathstroke had gotten his hands on Dick, and what he'd done was irreversible; Dick wouldn't let him do anything to anyone else.
He thought about Duke's words, his plea for them to work together. If it was any other situation, if it was anyone else, he would agree, but not with Deathstroke. Not when this was Dick's mess in the first place. Not when Deathstroke was here for him, and he was more than capable of getting rid of anyone else who stood in his way. Dick would just have to stop him before anyone else could get involved.
He knelt on the floor, pressed his forehead to his knees, and told himself everything would be alright. He even tried to believe it.
He couldn't quite manage it.
Dick gave up on sleep the next morning a little after sunrise, staring out the window at the lightening sky and wishing his brain would quiet for even a moment. In a way, he thought it was almost a blessing that he hadn't been able to sleep; he didn't think he would have liked his dreams. But instead of dreaming, he'd tossed and turned, occasionally dozing off but mostly awake, and tried so hard not to think of Deathstroke that he was the only thing Dick could think of at all.
He imagined he could feel the knife under his mattress, even though he knew Bruce's mattresses were far too good for him to feel any lumps under them. He almost imagined he could feel it sliding into his spine.
He wondered briefly if Deathstroke would meet him again if he went to that same rooftop where he'd spoken with him the second time. Probably not. Before, Deathstroke had wanted to talk to Dick, and so he'd made himself available. Now, Dick wanted to talk to Deathstroke, and he was nowhere to be found.
Maybe Dick should have taken the chance last time and shot him.
Wherever Deathstroke was, he had to be somewhere he could lay low, even with the Joker. That wasn't easy, Dick knew; the Joker didn't like laying low, even if he could manage it for a limited time if it fit into his plan. The Joker and Deathstroke would have to work together, make a plan together, but neither of them tended to play nice with others, which would hopefully mean that their plan wouldn't be very good. Their goals didn't align either, not really, and even though Deathstroke would obviously keep that from the Joker, Dick doubted either of them would be at their most effective. Unfortunately, they were both dangerous enough that even when less effective, they could still kill, and they'd still be difficult to stop.
If Dick could get to Deathstroke before the Joker struck, then maybe he could convince Deathstroke that he was worried enough about his siblings to take out the biggest active threat to their lives. He'd have to word it well, but he thought maybe he could. His case might be stronger if he waited for an actual threat, but Dick thought that the implicit one was probably obvious enough to count. Deathstroke obviously expected Dick to want to kill the Joker if pushed, and Dick had to figure out the minimum level of pushing required to still make it believable.
He had to move as quickly as he could, because he needed Deathstroke gone.
He didn't think about what would come after. He didn't think about how it would feel to have more blood on his hands, or what his family would think, or even if his mind would be able to stay stable with all of the strain. None of that mattered. What mattered was that Deathstroke would be out of the picture, and Dick wouldn't have to worry about him going after his family ever again. He wouldn't have to worry about Deathstroke turning him into a weapon.
He'd turn himself into a weapon first, and he'd point himself straight at Deathstroke's head.
The sun had risen fully over the horizon, and Dick stared at it for as long as he could before his eyes burned enough that he had to blink and look away. It was longer than it would have been for a normal human, but still not that long; some things were too strong, even with a super serum. Then he rolled over in bed and pulled the covers over his face, wishing that he could just sleep. He was pretty sure he really didn't need it, not in the way that normal humans did, but he still wanted that bliss of unconsciousness. He didn't want to have to think.
But sleep remained elusive, so Dick threw the covers off his head, swept out of his room, and headed for the Cave.
He slipped through the silent hallways like a ghost. He moved as quietly as he could past the other bedrooms, not wanting to wake any of his siblings if they'd been able to find the sleep that evaded him. For a moment, he considered waking one of them on purpose, just so he wouldn't have to be alone, but that wasn't fair; even if he just woke one, that was still one person who wouldn't be able to get a proper night's sleep, and he didn't want to be the cause of that. He imagined that many of his family were already probably having troubled sleep because of him; he didn't want to keep them from getting any sleep at all.
He reached Bruce's office and set the time on the grandfather clock, then he descended down into the Cave. It was dark, but his vision was better than a normal human's, so he didn't bother turning on the lights. He liked the dark, honestly; something about it felt secure. He was safe in the Cave. Deathstroke couldn't reach him.
He could still reach Dick's thoughts, though, so Dick sat down at the computer and pulled up the pictures Bruce had taken of the Joker's cell.
Dick had lied about the note he found. He hadn't lied about the fact that Deathstroke had possibly left more, ones that were just more difficult to find. He'd have to analyze the Joker's handwriting enough to be able to identify any anomalies, and he'd have to cross-reference those anomalies against the list of messages that he and Deathstroke had created amongst themselves. It wouldn't be easy, and he didn't think he'd enjoy the process at all, but it was a necessary one. Even if nothing came of it, Dick would be glad he did it, even if just to confirm that there was nothing on the walls.
And along the way, he'd decipher as much of the Joker's ramblings as he could, and maybe they would give him some clues from the other direction. Deathstroke would be in charge of the partnership between the two, there was no doubt about that, but if the Joker already had ideas to take down the Bats, Deathstroke might use one of them as a base. And the Joker did have ideas, Dick was certain he had ideas, so the only question was whether or not he'd written them down. A lot of the writing on the walls seemed to be in some sort of code, but Dick had confidence in his ability to break it, with time.
He just hoped that time would be on his side, because he didn't know how much of it he would need.
By the time Bruce descended into the Cave, Dick had already looked over samples of the Joker's handwriting enough to get an idea of how it should look, and he was in the middle of closely examining the first wall. He looked over his shoulder at Bruce when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and only then did he realize he still hadn't turned on the lights and wonder what he looked like to Bruce, a shadowy figure bathed only in the light of the computer screen.
Bruce turned on the lights, and Dick blinked at the sudden brightness. "Couldn't sleep either?"
"It's almost eight in the morning," Bruce said. "I thought I'd slept enough to start working again."
"I would ask what time you fell asleep last night, but considering I was down here before you, I don't really have much of a place to throw stones," Dick replied. "You come down here to do anything specific?"
"Damian told me that he and Duke were attempting to triangulate where Deathstroke and the Joker could be hiding. I thought I would check their work and see what I could add to it."
"From what I saw, their work is pretty thorough already, but another pair of eyes never hurts. I think their map is still over there, unless they moved it."
Bruce nodded, but instead of going over to the map, he went over to Dick and leaned over to look at the computer screen. "What are you doing?"
"Looking over the pictures of the Joker's cell to see if I can find any message from Deathstroke. I analyzed a few samples of the Joker's handwriting so I can hopefully identify areas that aren't right, and then I can note them down on the paper here to see if they mean anything. I'm also checking what the Joker wrote for any clues to his plans while I'm at it."
Bruce nodded. "Do you need help?"
"I don't think you can really help, honestly," Dick admitted. "You wouldn't recognize the messages from Deathstroke."
"I might be able to identify anomalies in the Joker's handwriting, though," Bruce countered.
"Maybe. But you should go check on Damian and Duke's map first, and then maybe you can help me if it seems like a good use of your time."
"Anything that gets us closer to finding Deathstroke is a good use of my time."
"Yeah, I know, but we still need to prioritize the things we do to find him. I don't know if there's even anything to find in the cell, but Duke and Damian are doing good work, so I think you should check that first."
Bruce nodded, squeezed Dick's shoulder gently, and went to the other side of the Cave to check over Duke and Damian's map. Dick's hand went to his shoulder for a moment, then he shook himself and went back to looking over the pictures.
The gentle touch was nothing like Deathstroke, he told himself firmly. He had nothing to fear here.
There were a few marks on the walls that didn't match the Joker's handwriting, and a few letters that were written a bit strangely, but Dick couldn't figure out what any of them meant. If they were messages from Deathstroke, they weren't using their usual code. If Deathstroke wanted to send him a message, he would do it in a way Dick could understand.
It was entirely possible that Deathstroke was doing this just to keep Dick busy, to occupy him and keep him out of Deathstroke and the Joker's way until they were ready for him. Dick still had to look, though, because it was also entirely possible that there was some sort of additional message for him. It wouldn't be an easy one, he knew that, but even if Deathstroke was playing with him, there might be some sort of important information behind it.
Dick was halfway through the third wall when Bruce reappeared behind him, startling him enough that he froze. "We should go up for breakfast," Bruce said gently, graciously ignoring the reaction. "The others are awake. We can discuss our plans."
"I'll be up a few minutes," Dick said, not daring to fully look away from the screen. "I think I should be done with this soon. Don't wait for me."
Bruce studied him for a moment, then he nodded and headed upstairs. Dick let his gaze flicker towards his back for a moment, then he went back to looking over the pictures on the computer screen.
There were enough markings that he thought they had to mean something, but he just didn't know what. He wished he could see the cell in person again, but he didn't want to go back to Arkham. Even if the cell hadn't been cleaned yet, he didn't think the guards would be particularly cooperative, and there was a much higher chance that the other inmates would be awake now to cause trouble. And that wasn't even taking into consideration the fact that Bruce absolutely wouldn't let him go alone, and honestly, he probably wouldn't let Dick go with anyone else either. He'd have to make do with the photos.
Dick finished with the third wall, debated for a moment, then moved on to the fourth. It had the least space on it, given what was blocked by the bed and the door, so hopefully it wouldn't take too much time. He couldn't help but think that, once he'd looked over the whole thing and written down all the possible markings, they'd make sense.
And then, finally, they did, at least sort of. There was a little arrow on the wall above the door, in a hand that didn't look like the Joker's. The arrow was pointing diagonally downwards and to the right, and Dick didn't know what it meant until he realized it was pointing to a marking on the first wall that he'd noted down. He looked at that again, then he looked down the line of markings and realized what he'd been missing all along.
None of them were a message on their own. But if Dick combined them, working around the room clockwise from top to bottom, then they started to make sense.
There were a few markings that didn't fit into the pattern, so Dick tentatively dismissed them as things the Joker had done or general marks on the walls, but once he'd combined the markings in a way that made sense, he was left with fourteen little messages. Each one corresponded to a number, and when Dick wrote them out and added the necessary decimal points, they gave him a set of coordinates for a building in Gotham.
Dick stared at the coordinates for a long moment, then he raced over to Duke and Damian's map. If he put the coordinates into the computer, Bruce would be able to see them, but he could find the spot the old-fashioned way. His fingers traced over the city, and they landed above the building where Dick had first spoken to Deathstroke.
Maybe it really had been a double-bluff this whole time.
If that was actually where Deathstroke was, then Dick had to confront him, and he wanted to do it as quickly as possible. The others were all upstairs, and they were expecting him, but he had some time before their suspicions would be raised. The daylight hours would make it a bit harder to sneak around, but they'd make it easier to sneak away from his family.
Deathstroke wouldn't have left the message if he hadn't wanted Dick to find it, but he clearly hadn't expected him to find it immediately. Dick didn't know if his speed was faster than Deathstroke had been expecting, but he thought he'd put it together pretty fast, which meant he might have a chance to catch Deathstroke off-guard. It was possible that Deathstroke wasn't ready for him yet. And if he left as soon as possible…
Dick picked up the map and the coordinates, and he slipped upstairs.
Nightwing couldn't kill Deathstroke, but Renegade's hands were already bloody. Bruce had stashed his Renegade outfit away in the Cave, somewhere no one had to look at it or think about it, but Dick had secreted it up to his room. He knew that if he changed in the Cave, with all its cameras, Bruce would check the footage and find out immediately, but if he changed in his room and snuck out the window, he had a chance.
Dick moved as quietly as he knew how, and he reached his room without running into anyone. He locked his bedroom door, swept the room for any bugs or other monitoring devices, and then pulled out the box with the Renegade suit. He hated to look at it, he hated to even think about it, he didn't want to put it on-
But he had no other choice, not if he wanted to keep his family safe, so Dick steeled himself and opened the box.
The suit still fit him like a glove. Dick remembered how the Nightwing suit hadn't felt quite right when he went back into it, and he fought the surge of bitterness over the fact that he could slip back into Renegade so easily when he'd had to fight so hard to be Nightwing again. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was stopping the Joker and Deathstroke before they hurt anyone.
The holsters at Dick's sides were empty, since he'd left his guns behind when he'd left Deathstroke. Deathstroke would give him one, he was sure. After a few moments of consideration, Dick dug the knife from Deathstroke out from under his mattress and shoved it into his boot. Deathstroke had given it to him; maybe Dick could bury it in Deathstroke's brain to give it back.
He looked around his room once, a pang in his chest telling him to take it all in for what could be the last time, and then he put his helmet on and climbed out the window.
Leaving the Manor's grounds without getting caught on any of the cameras wasn't easy, but Dick had been living there for years, and he had experience. He made his way to the spot at the mouth of the tunnel to the Cave where they always left a spare bike, and he swung his leg over it and took off. It was entirely possible that Babs could track it once she realized he took it, but it was also the fastest way for him to get to Deathstroke, and that was the most important part. He told himself that again and again, that it was most important to stop Deathstroke, no matter what it took.
He told himself he believed it.
Gotham was buzzing in the muted way it did in the mornings, and even though there were people out, no one paid too much attention to him. Dick knew it was a Gotham thing; if you saw someone in a mask or helmet like his, you pretended you didn't. It didn't do anyone any good if civilians started getting tangled up in superhero business. He reached the coordinates without running into any trouble and parked his bike, looking up the building before him. It was abandoned, just as Damian had said. Dick wondered why abandoned buildings were even allowed anymore in Gotham. You'd think, he supposed, that people would eventually realize that leaving empty buildings around just invited villains to start nesting in them. Then again, Dick wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what the villains would do if they didn't have empty buildings to be their bases, so maybe it was the lesser evil.
And maybe Dick was trying to procrastinate by distracting himself with thoughts about the general villain housing market, but he had to move.
He checked his knife, and then he stepped up to the doors. He was here. If he'd figured things out properly, Deathstroke was just upstairs. Soon, this would be over.
All Dick wanted, to be honest, was for it to be over.
The door shut softly behind him.