Archive of Our Own

Today was going to be good. Dick had decided on it. 

The last few months had been tough — not as tough as balancing the cowl and raising Damian and helping some of the younger teams and further improving his relationship with Jason and salvaging his relationship with Tim all while believing Bruce to be dead — the stress of all of that compounded with the past because he’d never really recovered from everything with Blockbuster — 

It wasn’t that tough. And if he had handled that , he could handle anything. At least, that’s how he's been operating in the 4 months— 4 months? Has it been 4 months already? — since Bruce came back. 

So, yeah, while life is hectic, it’s back to the level he’s been handling for 15 years. Bludhaven is a mess, something splitting his attention between there and Gotham certainly didn’t help, but it’s nearing something…. manageable. That doesn’t mean the situation is good at all , but he’ll take it. 

He gets to see Damian once or twice a week, more if he’s lucky, and texts him frequently. There were some tensions between Batman and his new Robin— between Bruce and his son— that Dick worked hard to alleviate. He’s proud to say they are more-often-than-not working together smoothly, though there’s certainly friction at times. Not to mention the youngest’s relationship with Tim and Jason…

Oh, Jason! That’s something good. He’d been coming to the manor far more often upon Bruce’s return. Perhaps he’d seen the bat’s return as a second chance and was trying, in his painfully slow and obtuse way, to improve their relationship. Or maybe Dick’s constant attempts at reconnection and openly proclaiming his love for the younger despite everything had finally gotten through to him. Or maybe the cave was just more convenient for getting gear and information. Whatever the case, they were on speaking terms, banter terms even. He would have to take it. 

And Tim. Tim talked to Dick when he visited, or on the comms at night, or when swapping information, but didn’t go out of his way or let Dick try to reach out. He still mostly lived in the manor, occasionally leaving to help the younger teams or simply to his own apartment as a home away from home, so they interacted then; but Tim and Damian still didn’t really get along, and the new Robin missed the closeness they had as the dynamic duo. The oldest’s already limited time with Tim was cut shorter because of Damian’s presence, but Dick couldn’t blame the kid. So he and Tim spoke when convenient, and little else, making any progress haltingly slow; they were frozen. And it hurt . But. He could take it. 

But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to improve it. 

His three siblings— because that’s what they were in his eyes, no matter what— were all going to be at the manor tonight. More precisely, the cave, but still. As the oldest and most experienced and the only one willing to put in the effort he had a duty to ensure they were all happy, healthy, and not at each other’s throats. 

He’d glimpsed moments where each of them got along, tiny and precious memories he held onto with all his heart, that proved they could get along wonderfully. More than that, he knew each of them well; regardless of their relationships now, Dick had gotten to know all of them through their highs and lows. If they would let go of the pent up resentments and petty hang-ups, he knew they could be so much closer. 

And maybe it was selfish of him to want that. He’d lost the large and varied family the circus provided the day his blood-tied family fell to their deaths. His many teams over the years had reignited his love for groups that had dwindled in the mostly empty mansion. When a group came together— every member so different from one another yet so full of love and fierce protectiveness for everyone else— it was beautiful in a way he couldn’t capture. Harmonious to his very soul. 

If he wanted that same level of happiness and melody to be restored to his brothers, they would all have to do it together. 

So when he drove up the driveway with each of his brother’s favorite drinks in his bag and hope in his heart that he could at least ever-so-slightly soften the edges of his fractured family tonight, he hoped it was a forgivable selfishness.

He grabbed the bag with some care, the strange assortment of beverages unwieldy in their containers. A soda brand he’d never heard of until countless empty cans were left in one of Dick’s safe houses that the Red Hood had crashed in, some off-world version of iced-coffee one of Nightwing’s various alien allies had been happy to share and a safety assortment of Redbull for if Tim didn’t like it, and a milkshake for Damian, as Dick was trying to nurture the kid’s sweet tooth. 

Approaching the steps of the house, he briefly wondered if he should enter through the cave so Alfred didn’t have to see the assortment of unhealthy drinks, but decided against it. The case they were working on would be handled almost entirely in the cave until they found a lead so he didn’t bring his bike. He had to park his regular ass car up here, so if he suddenly used the other entrance it would be obvious he’s avoiding something. 

Whatever , he thought. Even if he earns a scolding, it’s always great to see Alfred. The older gentleman is also a great wealth of information for how his brothers are feeling on any given day; a quick stop to the kitchen and Alfred’s equally quick eye is all it took. 

Finally getting his key out of his pocket, he opened the door and announced his entrance. He scuffed his shoes on the carpet, but didn’t remove them, and headed further in. He kept his awareness up because it wouldn’t be the first time for Damian to ambush him. 

Nothing jumped out of the shadows so his journey to the kitchen was unimpeded. He was surprised to find it completely empty, but figured his brothers were already in the cave. Perhaps Alfred was setting the dining room? 

But when he opened the drawers to grab some metal straws, he checked the dish cabinets and glass cupboards; nothing was missing. Now, they did own roughly a bajillion plates and Dick was not known for his stellar memory, but he’s sure these are the regular things they used when it was a casual dinner. 

He brushed off the unease as he walked the familiar path towards the secret entrance. He said everything was going to be fine, and he wasn’t going to let a bit of bat paranoia ruin that. Alfred was probably downstairs with the others for whatever reason. 

Actually, that didn’t bode well. If he was down there it was probably to stop the others from fighting. Bruce was with the Justice League — likely a big part of the reason Jason was physically here helping them — to get in between any violent outbursts, so Alfred was on duty to calm them before it got that far. 

That thought made Dick speed up just a bit, arriving at the grandfather clock and activating the elevator swiftly. He paused to interject some extra pep in his posture and lighten up the smile on his face before descending. 

As the elevator doors opened, there wasn’t any screaming. That didn’t mean it was quiet, however, as Jason’s and Tim’s voices intermittently echoed loudly, words lost but clearly agitated. Not pained he noted immediately. They paused and he could only infer it was because someone was replying quietly, as immediately after the volume raised once again.

Already his brain was calculating how he could diffuse the situation. Context was that all three of his siblings were down here (that didn’t narrow down the cause at all) and the case they were collaborating on dealt with information leaks.

One of their old systems, probably a comms unit or dislodged trackers, had gotten into the wrong hands. Someone had managed to get into it and gain access to an assortment of outdated files. Such information could be dangerous on its own, but it seemed they weren’t satisfied with it, aiming to use it to get further into their systems. 

Such a security threat put them all at risk, and forced them to work together. Tonight would be spent going through the pilfered data, updating their equipment with new security measures, and tracking down who found and could be dispersing their info. 

Maybe something in the old data had stirred up old angers between Jason in Tim. That would explain why he didn’t hear Damian arguing. 

Or maybe Jason’s more lethal crimes were revealed? They weren’t exactly secret, but he’d mellowed out more in the recent years. That wasn’t to say he didn’t still kill, but it was typically only the head honchos and truly disgusting that caught such a fate. Dick didn’t approve, but he understood. 

Nightwing was known for being a good guy, if not a little too friendly towards those on the “villain” side of the spectrum.  He had enemies and allies everywhere, and the Red Hood was yet another of the numerous anti-heroes to add to that list. 

Plus, after Blockbuster, Dick had absolutely no place to judge—

Nope! No focusing on that. It’s going to be a good day, Grayson, don’t ruin it with the past now. 

Getting closer, he intentionally jostled the beverage bag to get their attention. “Got the fun started without me?” He remarked cheerfully, cutting through the yelling.

Tim and Jason turned to him from where they’d been facing Alfred, both clearly upset— the former’s expression harder to discern while the latter was clearly frustrated. Alfred was concerned with a dash of pity, which sent his heart racing. 

Damian stood further behind the group; his posture was wound up and shoulders tucked close. He met Dick’s gaze with an inscrutable look. 

“Fucking finally,” Jason shouted before Tim stepped forwards, between him and Dick. Noticing, he said,” the fuck are you doi-“

“Getting all the facts,” Tim said, not bothering to turn around. He raised his eyes to Dick’s with heavy determination. It was obvious he was troubled, but the eldest knew his brother’s posture. He was in detective mode, setting his feelings aside to get the full picture before deciding how he felt.

He would appreciate it if not for the fact he was about to get interrogated.

“What’s up?” He kept his form open and calm as he walked to a nearby table with at least some space not coated in gadget parts. 

As he spread the drinks out, Tim approached. Alfred walked over to help clear the table without even reprimanding him for the unhealthy substances, not good . “You already know we were looking through the compromised information?”

“Mm-hm,” he confirmed. He flicked his gaze up to Tim, who looked at a loss to find the correct words.

“You…. Did you ever, uh—“ he speaks slowly. 

Jason growls in frustration, the only warning he receives before he’s bumping into the table as the man crowds his space. “You’re such a fucking hypocrite.”

He jerks back in surprise and opens his mouth to reply at the same time as Tim, but Jason’s faster,” ‘oh you can tell me anything, oh you shouldn’t be so brutal, you shouldn’t kill--“

“Jason!” Tim’s voice is loud and shrill, quickly pulling the man’s attention away as they begin yelling anew, but it leaves Dick’s ears ringing. What were they talking about? He thought it was only old information, did they know about Blockbuster? If so, how much? What did they see?

Damian is significantly closer when Dick manages to refocus. The kid has — probably strategically — positioned himself between the eldest and the rest. He surveys the table, briefly resting on the milkshake before he looks back to his former Batman. 

“Richard, were you ever going to tell us?” Tell me he deciphers on instinct without even knowing what the boy is referring to. 

He tries to settle his pounding heart,” I’m still kind of lost on what we’re talking about.”

Tim and Jason are aggressively debating something near the bat computer, and Alfred blocks that line of sight. “I’m sorry, Master Richard, but I was unable to explain the complete context of the footage before your arrival. And, before the other young Masters drew their own conclusions.”

What? He glanced between the two, Alfred’s eyes painted in dismay while Damian looked lost. Against his will, hesitation leaked into his tone,” what is this about?”

Now both looked away, unable to meet his gaze. Despite the lack of physical danger he adopts a much more guarded stance. 

“Let me talk to him first!” Tim shouts before Jason shoves him away from the keyboard without looking. Clearly unprepared, he clumsily stumbled down the 2 steps leading up to the computer’s platform. He doesn’t fall, much too trained for that, but he does bump Alfred. 

The old man is fine, but Damian’s quick to reprimand Tim for his “carelessness,” and Tim quick to blame Jason. Alfred tries to cut in, yet it’s not enough to stop the yelling. 

Dick knows he needs to interrupt, to deescalate, but his mind is endlessly repeating What do they hear What did they read What did they see What do they know? 

The last in a string of insults, Tim accuses Damian of only pretending to care for Alfred after his many past proclamations of love being a weakness, and caring for “the help” being beneath him. 

The current Robin tenses in outrage. He’s trapped — old teachings making him want to vehemently deny any affection towards Alfred, but the rest of him unwilling to prove Tim right by saying he doesn’t care. The boy’s come a long way, but openly professing his love is still far in the future, especially confessing such a vulnerability around threats like Jason or Tim. 

He’s trapped, and, like so many wild animals when trapped, he lashes out. He sweeps a leg towards Tim as Alfred backs away in surprise. Tim is quick to jump over his foot, having to retreat further as the younger springs up with an elbow aimed at his face. 

Dick is moving now, but not before Tim is able to knee Damian in the stomach. The kid folds and rolls backwards, remaining low on the ground. And Dick is getting between them, pulse still thrumming in his ears at his swirling thoughts, hands already raising in a “calm down” gesture when—

“Broken bird.” 

The voice croons in a deep rumbling tone, echoing everywhere but somehow directly behind his ears. It’s not outwardly angry, but he knows . His muscles lock involuntarily, senses wavering before honing in on the darkness of his environment, the yelling, the panic his sympathetic nervous system is pouring through his body. 

He doesn’t think of how, doesn’t question why, only knows what is. What is here, what is at risk, what he must do.

“Si— Master ,” he corrects. ‘Sir’ was often okay, but right now he wouldn’t risk Master’s wrath by calling him anything but his ordered title. The phrase ‘broken bird’ was not one uttered lightly. 

He doesn’t know when he dropped to one knee, but he ensures his gaze is firmly on the floor. His ears are trained for the steps of combat boots, but he knows he won’t be able to hear them unless Master wants him to. 

“You should know better by now , ” the voice curls through his mind, strangely compressed at first but growing clearer by the second. He barely keeps himself from flinching, uses the breathing techniques he’s been forced to learn these past few months. They ensure he doesn’t tremble like he wants to, compressing the sheer terror on his mind into little boxes before tucking them away. 

He opens his mouth to apologize for whatever wrong he committed, but—  “ did I grant you permission? ” This time the words are completely clear and so close to him, almost coming from inside his brain. Master’s earpieces have always been too high quality for his taste. 

There’s a small, unsure hand placed on his shoulder, but Robin does not react. He recounts the situation, grasps at the vague and unwinding details he knows. 

There was a small form behind him, someone he wanted to protect, before Master began speaking. Now, that figure was lightly touching his shoulder, hand small and warm, likely Beast Boy or Raven. 

He wanted to shout at them to leave before Master reactivated the nanobots poisoning their bloodstreams, but doing so would only seal their fates. No, he wouldn’t react. 

The hand grew more insistent, but he didn’t give in. He relied on the techniques Master taught, over and over again mentally repeating that the only things that mattered were the floor beneath his feet and Master’s next orders. 

The sensation of the hand dissipated, but Master still didn’t speak. Robin’s strained hearing picked out sounds, but they were muffled and far away. Had he been dosed with something? Perhaps this was a test, Master waiting to see if he’d crack under the long wait in addition to whatever was messing with his auditory processing. 

He thought that was unnecessary, both of them knew he was too well trained — especially with one of his teammates here. 

That was actually humiliating, having one of his loved ones see just how far he’d fallen, watching him as he kneels in silence at the beck and call of a monster. But he’d bear that humiliation and a million more to keep them safe. 

It’s several more minutes of unintelligible sounds, and the pain in his knee is making itself known. The breathing and compacting techniques are paying dividends, and he can almost say he’s calm. The only things stopping him from sinking into a numb haze is the knowledge that one of his teammates is here and Master was mad enough to use their code phrase. 

Ha , code phrase is a funny thing to call it. It wasn’t at all an established code. More like a Pavlovian response ingrained so firmly into his psyche he would never shake it. 

Finally, he hears the heavy step of combat boots, ears locking on immediately. They’re heavy like he knows they should be and stop several feet ahead of him. 

There’s more faraway noises — probably hissed whispers if he had to guess — before he hears, “Raise your head… apprentice.”

The voice doesn’t have the familiar rumble, but it’s low and authoritative. There’s also a slight pause before Master called him apprentice; he’d call it hesitance had it been anyone else speaking. The strangeness he blames on the drugs coursing through him, and raises his head. 

Okay, he was definitely right to assume he was dosed. Master’s form is blurring around the edges, colors swirling strangely before it finally settles. The orange of his faceplate looks too red, but he doesn’t let it bother him. 

Master’s form shifts when Robin’s head snapped up. More strained whispers, more waiting, and then,” who do you see?”

“You, Deathstroke, Slade,” he says without hesitation, dipping his head in submission,” Master.”

The whispering has stopped, as has the rest of the sound. Slade turns his head to the side before motioning for someone to walk over. “Do you recognize him?”

His heart clenches as the small form comes closer, standing near Master. He opens his mouth to say yes, that’s Beast Boy, except… it’s not. 

The person is slightly too short. His eyes can’t decide if the person has a green tint to them, and their hair is darker than his old teammates. They are fading in and out, face tightening in concern but not fear. 

“I—“ he starts, before shaking his head, eyes returning to the floor. “Sorry, Master, I thought he was Beast Boy, but something is wrong with my vision.” He doesn’t dare imply he’s been drugged. If Slade wants to know his thoughts, he’ll demand them. 

There’s more strained whispers he can’t understand because it’s not Master’s voice whispering so he’s not allowed to listen. 

“You may,” the man’s voice pauses briefly,” speak freely to this one.” 

Robin’s head snaps up in shock, Slade already backing away. The Not-Beast-Boy walks closer before sitting cross legged on the ground. The kid’s face flickers as he tries to make sense of what’s happening— of who he’s seeing. 

The child scrunches their face as they take in his kneeling form. Dick is equally observant; his eyes flick everywhere, from where Slade has disappeared, to the high ceiling lost to shadows, to the kid leaning towards him. 

“Richard?” 

He bites back any surprise, and throws on what he hopes is a reassuring, apologetic smile,” you’ve gotta call me Apprentice, okay?”

The child frowns more, the dramatic pout heart achingly familiar,” you are no one’s apprentice.” 

Oh how he wishes that were true , “Please don’t say that. I need you to get out of here, okay?”

The child tuts, and with that sound the last vestiges of green disappear from his vision. It’s Damian sitting in front of him. The child notices the recognition in his eyes,” Richard?” He implores again. 

“Dami,” he breathes out. “How… what happened?” Because this was a scene out of his nightmares. 

“All that happened was Todd was an idiot and played some old audio that had an adverse reaction. In you.” Damian is forthright in his speech, but his body language is uncomfortable.

Dick pales,” Jason’s here too?” 

“Yes, in fact Tim is here as well, but he and I sent Alfred upstairs in case you…” his words stop reaching Dick. 

Suddenly Damian is much closer than before, hand reaching for him. Dick’s about to move back before he remembers he still doesn’t have permission. 

“You need to find the others,” he interrupts the younger. “You need to find them and leave. I’ll be okay, but you need to get out .”

Damian’s eyes widen before he slowly shakes his head. “No, we don’t. Where do you think we are?” 

Somewhere near Slade Wilson, and that’s all he needs to know. 

When the child doesn’t receive an answer, he pauses to think. “Can you describe what you’re seeing?”

“Damia-“

“Just humor me, Richard,” he says, then adds,” please?”

“Okay, fine,” he relents. “You, I can see you sitting in front of me. You aren’t bound so you should be using your time to get out of here—“

“Richard,” he warns. 

“I see the floor, it’s a smooth and slightly reflective black.”

“And where have you seen that type of floor before?”

Dick considers it, lightly replying,” a lot of places.”

The kid narrows his eyes at the apparent wrong answer. He motions for Dick to continue. 

“I see my hand. I—,” he freezes at the lack of glove or armor. 

“Yes?” The kid prompts. 

“I’m not wearing my gear.” He looks back up to Damian. “Am I wearing my mask?” 

He purses his lips,” why don’t you feel for yourself?”

“Not allowed to move, buddy,” he smoothly replies. 

Damian opens his mouth, but shuts it to stop himself from replying. He grits out,” name more things.”

Dick smiles,” just random things?” The kid huffs angrily, and he stops messing around to reassess the room. “I can’t see much else, it's too dark.” 

Without his gear, his eyesight was like any normal human’s. Aka, worse than Slade’s, who was probably somewhere nearby. 

Some of Damian’s annoyance bled away, concern overtaking it. “Nothing else?” 

He cuts his gaze across the room once again before shaking his head. 

The kid’s face screws up in thought before he recollects himself. “You never answered my earlier question. Where are we?”

“I don’t know, probably a safehouse or warehouse—“

“And how did you get here?” Damian interrupts. 

How did he…? “It doesn’t matter how we got here, what matters is that you three leave.”

“No, it does matter, and you will answer me,” he insists. 

They glower at one another before Dick rolls his eyes and tries to remember, but when he searches, he can’t find anything. 

It must show on his face because the kid asks,” what’s the last thing you can remember before… before hearing Deathstroke?”

Dick furrows his brow. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, or what time it is— what day it is for that matter. He’s struggling, and cannot stop his voice from showing it,” I, I don’t….” He trails off again. 

“What were you doing this morning?”

“… I woke up in my apartment,” he thinks so, at least. “I removed the stitches from my side, then taught a few classes at the gym. I went shopping to get some drinks for you three and went to the manor…?” 

Damian nods, his gaze sliding to something behind Dick. His face betrays no terror or anger, so it can’t be Master behind him. Regardless, a shiver passes through him. 

The kid lifts an arm to grab something out of Dick’s view, retracting it. He sits back again, holding a. Hold. Holding a milkshake. 

Oh. 

Dick blinks, painstakingly raising his eyes from the drink to Damian’s green gaze. “He’s not really here, is he?”

It’s not really a question, but he answers regardless,” No, Richard, he isn’t.” 

All his breath leaves in one burst, body listing to the side. Damian makes a surprised noise, but steady hands from behind stop him from falling. He’s lowered down, hissing as his knee protests being stretched out after kneeling for so long.

There’s footsteps drawing closer; he reopens his eyes to see Jason crouching in front of him. Framing him is the roof of the cave, bats and stalactites familiar and calming. It’s so much brighter than before. 

“You back with us?” Jason’s voice is carefully soft, like he’s scared anything will send Dick back. He’s offering a hand, and the eldest clasps it. Jason pulls up strongly, making Dick stumble into him. 

“Woah, there.” He says,” alright, to the med cot or to your room?”

Dick shakes his head, tries to stand on his own to assure them he’s fine, and nearly tilts over again. Jason wraps a powerful arm around him to steer him towards the medical area. His feet feel heavy, fingers far away. 

He’s plopped down unceremoniously onto the cot and continues to sit stiffly. Tim and Damian come over as well, forming a tense semi circle around the eldest. 

“Look-“ “What-“

Jason and Tim turn to one another in surprise, the older quicker to recover,” Look, I fucked up. I thought— or, I didn’t think. Showing you what we were pissed about seemed like the quickest way to get to the bottom of this.” 

Dick only nods. Tim begins,” we were searching through the compromised data and came across some information that was clearly not originally ours. We played it and,” the younger brother takes his time in phrasing,” we thought you’d temporarily joined Deathstroke and hid it from us.”

He stops, unable to meet Dick’s gaze,” we thought you’d done it willingly.”

Dick gives a humorless smile,” and you don’t think that anymore?”

“No way,” Jason says with no hesitation. “No offense, but whatever just happened,” he vaguely gestures, still looking away,” made that kind of obvious.”  

Dick hums noncommittally. It’s quiet before Damian grows impatient with his siblings' reluctance,” so what happened?”

Tim moves to reprimand him for the lack of tact, but Dick’s already replying,” I’m sure you can guess. It was a while ago, back when I was with the Titans.

“We’d been pursuing Slade for a few months. He’d been outfoxing us at every turn. He kept leaving clues for us… for me , actually. Had this weird obsession with me; it became kind of mutual,” he admits. 

“Why?“ Tim says, but it’s Damian who answers. 

“I imagine it was an intellectual challenge, him granting you crumbs of information for you to puzzle out.” 

Dick absentmindedly points to him,” Yes. Figuring out his tricks was difficult. Getting something right made me feel…” 

“Smart?” Jason suggests. 

Tim offers his own guess,” skilled?”

“Proud,” Damian says with certainty. 

“All correct. He had everything planned out, every situation carefully under his control, like it was all a game. Getting even the smallest jump on him was cause for celebration. I desperately wanted to catch him.

“Some of my teammates tried to get me to calm down, but I couldn’t let it go.” He clenches his fist against his leg,” I started hiding things from them, both to stop them from worrying, and so they wouldn’t get in my way.”

Jason narrows his eyes in disapproval. Dick just shrugs,” I know it was stupid. I was playing right into his hands.”

He gathers himself up, allows himself to breathe in an effort to recenter, using the techniques Slade taught him before he notices and stops. “He set a trap where we were forced to split up. The rest of the team went to handle the main part, I got distracted.

“He planted a Meta that I had to defeat, purposefully left evidence that would lead me to him on the guy. I took the bait.” He sees his siblings shift their weight, no doubt predicting at least some of this story. 

“When I arrived, he revealed what he’d done,” his lip curls in anger. Almost ten years later and it still makes his blood boil,” the machine my team had went to stop actually planted devices into their bloodstreams, undetected. They could be activated remotely and immediately. He could kill them all with the press of a button.”

“Dick…” Tim says sympathetically, probably offering an out. One he doesn’t take. 

“In exchange for their lives, I would become his Apprentice. I had to do whatever he asked, listen to every order— I couldn’t leave without permission. Even on missions I couldn’t say anything.

“Because I’d been an idiot and ruined my team’s trust, most of them thought I’d turned traitor. As if I’d ever do that,” he’s aware he’s growing more emotional, but it’s just been so long since he’s had this caged up inside. It’s rushing out now. “Not that I could blame them. Your leader’s been a sneaky asshole for the last few weeks, obsessed with hunting down this mercenary, and then he’s suddenly working for him and won’t say shit to you?”

He laughs, grating and bitter,” no wonder they thought I’d become a villain! It doesn’t matter, the outcome was still the same. Ma— Slade ,” he grounds out, the mistake not going unnoticed but remaining uncommented on,” spent most of the time training me or sending me out to steal for him. The whole time he tried to convince me to join him willingly. He wanted me to see him like a father.”

Jason makes a noise of disgust as Damian scoffs at the ridiculousness. Tim’s quiet. “I know, right? I escaped after about 5 months—“

“5 months?!” Jason yells, the rest of them making similar noises of disbelief. He wheels towards Tim,” how did you not notice that, stalker?”

Tim squawks at the insult, Dick jumping in,” it wasn’t in the news or anything. Stuff was much quieter on the West coast, especially with Slade giving me most of his attention.” His brothers recoil,” when he wasn’t with me, he went back to regular mercenary work. Stopped with the elaborate plans that were the source of a lot of the trouble in Jump City so my disappearing went pretty undercover. 

“Actually,” he says now that he’s reminded about it,” I helped with lowering the crime rate. He liked to set me up against other villains as tests, so I was still stopping some crime— when not doing covert operations for him, that is.” 

A bark of laughter comes from Jason, but everyone can tell it’s slightly forced,” only you would still be doing good while held captive by a creepy supervillain.” 

Dick tries for a smile,” he’s not a supervillain, just a mercenary with a kill count in the thousands.”

Damian raises a brow,” and that makes it any better?” 

The other shrugs,” maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t.” He fixed his eyes back to the younger,” you mentioned an audio recording?”

Tim and Jason tense all over again. “Yes. It was a comms recording that father likely downloaded after your escape with the hopes of finding valuable information. Todd played it, and, for lack of better terms, you shut down.”

Dick’s expression falls. It’s been a long time since he’s had any sort of flashback so immersive, and even longer since they centered around his apprenticeship. 

“You weren’t responding,” Tim pipes up. “As soon as the audio played, you completely tensed up. One second you were standing and the next you were kneeling, talking to someone called ‘Master.’”

He stops and studies the older,” I’m guessing that was an order from him? That, and the stuff you told the brat about permission to move?”

Again, Dick can only nod. Use your words, apprentice a voice croons in his head. “I was to call him Master, or I could get away with Sir at times. No moving without permission, talking out of turn, emoting, anything really.”

“Ever?” Tim asks. 

“Almost always,” he hesitates, knowing how his next words will come across. “But, there were times that were kinda… normal.”

Tim cocks his head, silently imploring. “Sometimes he allowed me to joke around, or we ate together, talked for hours about gear. I could tell part of him genuinely saw me as a son. It wasn’t all bad.”

He’s greeted by silence. Tim finally breaks it,” you know that was probably by design, right?”

“Oh sure,” he says easily. And to change the topic,” what happened after I started seeing him?”

The two middle children freeze up again, Tim stammering,” you weren’t responding, not to touch or any of our voices—“

Yeah, not reacting to touch was part of the whole ‘not having permission’ thing, but their voices were completely lost on him.

“— but the recording kept playing, and even though we paused it, because it was obviously messing with you and we wouldn’t leave you like that, you had responded to the recording's voice, even though none of us could get through to you. So we were trying to think of ways to break the illusion or just help you through it, but it was like we weren’t even there,” Tim sucks in a breath, sounding pained,” but there was one voice you would respond to so I kind of suggested—“

Jason cuts his prattling off,” we listened to the audio on headphones for context, they suggested some Slade-like shit to say, I pitched my voice down and tried to ask you what you were seeing. Then introduced Damian so you didn’t have to think your past captor was talking to you, and he could help you through it.”

“Ah,” Dick says, because what is he supposed to say to that . “So when I was talking to him…?”

“Yup,” Jason replies, aggressively casual,” not gonna lie, it was kind of freaky.” 

Dick could imagine so; seeing your sibling stare at you blankly while seeing a monster in your place would be pretty— did he call him Master?

He couldn’t summon the energy to be properly embarrassed. Instead, he listlessly replies,” sorry.”

Jason’s face twitches towards concern before going back to faux neutral,” don’t apologize, it’s clear you weren’t all there. Aaaand that we weren’t exactly taking the recommended steps to deal with it.” 

“You don’t say,” Dick grumbles out. Tim cringes out of the corner of his eyes, so he quickly reassures,” I get it. It’s different when it’s a civilian or stranger.”

“… we still should’ve done better,” he mutters. Shaking his head,” After we introduced the demon spawn—“ a scowl’s aimed Tim’s way,”— he was just supposed to carefully deconstruct the illusion.”

“Did you seriously think I was that ridiculous shapeshifter?” Damian asks, clearly offended. 

“Sorry, buddy, but he was on my team when all the Apprentice stuff went down, and you’re a lil’ squirt like him, so my brain combined you.” He moves to rustle the kid’s hair but he easily sidesteps. 

“You see me as a weakling who needs to be protected?”

A soft smile settles on his face,” I’ll always want to protect you, no matter how strong you get.”

Damian crosses his arms and looks away, a poor effort to conceal a blush,” Unnecessary.” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs,” but if I had a chance of getting you out of that situation, I was going to take it.” 

“Speaking of,” Jason cuts in,” the next time we see Deathstroke I’m going to—“

“You’re not going to do anything,” Dick says with finality.

Jason’s eyes widen in outrage,” but—“

“But nothing! This isn’t some kind of Stockholm syndrome or anything like that—“ 

“Sure it’s not,” Tim says.

“It literally isn’t. He and I settled this a long time ago. We’re fine now,” he defends. 

“You two ‘settled it?’” Damian enunciates incredulously.

“Yes. It’s been years since he tried to kidnap me.”

Tim narrows his eyes and leans forwards,” 10 years, right? Since the apprenticeship happened 10 years ago?” Dick vehemently avoids eye contact. Tim aggressively sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose in disappointment. “Why do I even bother…”

“Richard obviously would have referred to that as a successful kidnapping, not an attempt,” Damian states. 

“Oh duh , my bad,” he sarcastically replies,” I just assumed my brother wouldn’t be defending a man who’s made multiple attempts to kidnap him!” 

“He only succeeded once,” Dick mumbles.

“That doesn’t matter!” Both Jason and Tim turn to yell at him as Damian nods profusely. 

“I hate to agree with these two, but it’s true. You cannot expect us to simply ignore the fact that this fiend has caused you so much suffering just because he’s no longer actively hunting you down.” 

Dick purses his lips,” He and I have fought many times, worked together many times… at this point we’re mostly even. Trust me, I haven’t forgotten what he’s done, but he’s backed off.” 

He’s not going to mention how many times he had to fight Deathstroke in order to gain his respect just to stop any more “apprenticing” attempts. Or that the last fight was less than 2 months ago and he didn’t mention it because it was just so normal at this point. They’d hate that. 

“How do we know he won’t call you ‘broken—‘“ Tim chokes as he stops himself from saying it. “That he won’t bother you during patrol?”

Dick rolls his eyes,” you can say ‘broken bird.’”

Tim offers his palms in a shrug,” I wanted to make sure in case you’re some kind of Sleeper agent.”

“I’m not a sleeper agent,” he says. Three sets of eyes give him incredibly doubtful looks. “I’m not!”

“You activated with a code word, Dickie,” Jason explains. 

Dick snorts,” try ‘trauma response.’”

The other halts, trying to hide it by saying,”  same difference.” Dick appreciates the attempt at normalcy. 

“So,” Tim says to gain their attention,” you’ll be fine hearing the phrase in the future?” 

He knows what Tim is asking. You’ll be okay? He tries his best to be reassuring,” I’ll be fine. This time was just so unexpected, and I was already tense from you guys arguing and all the questions and— it just piled up.”

Tim still looks doubtful, so he adds,” Slade never managed to encode anything like that in me, so he won’t even know to try saying it. And , he respects me enough not to think it necessary, regardless.”

Damian scowls like his father,” Counting on the respect of a criminal. How pleasant.”

“It sure is!” He’s all smiles now, eager to move on. “Now I know that milkshake’s probably half melted by now, but you better try it. It’s matcha this time.”

He doubts his brothers don’t see the distraction for what it is, but they’re wonderfully merciful. Jason starts walking over to the table to grab the bag of drinks, calling back,” there better be something for me in here or I’m taking the shake.”

“I’d like to see you try it, Todd.” 

Tim still hasn’t moved, lost in thought as the others playfully and potentially violently banter. “I can hear you thinking from here, Timbo.”

Tim’s gaze flicks over to him and then away again. Dick pats on the cot next to him, and the younger complies, shaking the cot slightly as he sits. It takes a few moments before he’s willing to speak. 

“You’re… not okay.” 

“ Hah ,” Dick chuckles,” what makes you think that?” The others seem to be giving them space as if sensing the mood. He bumps his shoulder into him,” give me the analyses, detective.”

Tim still won’t look at him,” You’re sentence structure was messed up for a few minutes. Your sentences were short, literal, and to the point, which you sometimes do during serious missions, but rarely when just talking to us. 

“And you didn’t fidget. Like, at all,” Dick blinks in surprise. “The closest was clenching your fist, but that was when your speech was already becoming normal again. I just…”

He can practically hear the kid’s mind racing miles a minute, trying to piece together what Slade had to have done — what Dick had to endure — in order to break him so thoroughly that he still hasn’t recovered years later. That even a single phrase sends him back. 

Dick sighs and throws an arm around Tim— giving him a fair amount of time to move if he isn’t alright with physical contact right now. The younger nods, and he pulls him snug against his side.

“I’m sorry I thought for even a second—“

 Dick shushes him immediately. “No self-blaming.”

Tim glances at him,” You’re one to talk. Don’t think I didn’t notice you blaming yourself for falling into Slade’s trap.” 

“That’s different,” he tries, but is met with a swift glare. 

“If I’m not allowed, then you’re not allowed.”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, both knowing they’ll still think the same deprecating thoughts no matter what. 

They sit silently, just listening to the others shouting as Damian chases Jason across the jungle gyms while the older cackles and somehow doesn’t spill the drink. 

Tim begins,” we shouldn’t have assumed anything like we did.”

“Tim—“

“No, and you’re going to let me talk,” he looks at Dick as if willing him to try and stop him. “We immediately assumed the worst. I think we’ve all grown a little too comfortable with snooping; it’s practically in the Bat training guide to disregard all rules of privacy. So when we realized you never told any of us what happened, we immediately assumed you were hiding it.”

“I kind of was,” he quietly argues.

“Yeah, but not for any nefarious reason. You were hiding it because you hate that it happened, right? You think that you ‘let it’ happen.” Tim breathes out heavily,” a-and maybe because you knew we’d react like we did. That we didn’t trust you enough. And I hate thinking about that because you were right .”

His voice breaks, but Dick gets the sense Tim won’t accept comforting yet— that he’d rather get everything out in the open first. “ ‘You were killing people and then covered it up, acting as if it’d never happened and you were still perfect.’ I think we all thought something along those lines.

“And I know you’re not perfect!” He says with evident frustration,” logically I know it, I can think of mistakes you’ve made and times you’ve been hurt, but… 

“I think it was easier to get angry than to think of my older brother being held captive for months, when I sat around and did nothing. When I didn’t even realize the hell you’d gone through.”

“So,” he breathes in,” I’m sorry. For everything.” 

Dick sighs,” Tim, it’s okay. I forgive you, if that’s what you want to hear I’ll say it. But I wasn’t ever mad.”

He gazes out to his siblings on the equipment, milkshake splattered on the ground while the two point fingers at each other, and smiles fondly. “I know how it probably looked— or sounded, I guess, since you didn’t get to see it. And… I’m glad you didn’t. I never wanted any of you to ever know about this.”

He leans backwards on the cot,” It’s over and done, I’ve grown and changed. And sure it might come up in little ways, but I’ve recovered. You were right to say I felt ashamed, but I also just didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Tim glances at him quizzically,” because we’d go after Slade?”

“That too, I guess,” he admits,” but I also know that you’re brilliant brains,” he knocks on Tim’s head for emphasis,” are somehow too stupid to realize it’s not your fault, and that I don’t blame you.”

He lets that sink in for a few moments before a smirk slides onto his face,” though now I will have to contact Slade to tell him to watch his back next time he comes to Bludhaven, and I’m blaming that on you.”

Tim immediately fixes him with a mock offended look, but Dick shakes his head,” don’t you try to tell me you weren’t immediately thinking of ways to get revenge after you realized what happened.”

“I’m a Robin,” Tim primly replies,” I’d never stoop to revenge.”

“ Riiiight ,” Dick says, ignoring the fact that he became Robin to get revenge. “So I shouldn’t text him to watch out for 3 former or current Robins?” 

Tim shrugs with only a bit of evil in his expression,” I wouldn’t say that .” 

And then a few seconds go by before Tim shouts,” wait, you have his phone number ?” 

“What?!” He hears Jason yell, distracted enough for Damian to clamor up his shoulders and get him in a choke hold that he doesn’t enforce. 

“My win,” Damian says before flipping off in a dramatic move that makes Dick’s heart sore before the child stomps up to him and holds out a hand. When Dick doesn’t move, Damian orders,” phone.” 

Dick sputters before shooting back,” it’s on a burner, guys, and no —“ he points to Tim as the kid moves to Dick’s bag sneakily—“ I didn’t bring it. We are not prank calling Slade.”

“Of course not,” Damian hotly replies. “I was going to threaten him. It’s different.”

“The brat’s right,” Jason says as he walks up, glaring daggers at the youngest,” it’s different.” 

“It is , isn’t it?” Dick says, unable to keep a goofy smile from forming. “Tell you what; next time I have that burner on me during patrol, I’ll let one of you call him.”

The excitement is palpable and immediate, and he tries to settle it slightly,” there’s no promise he’ll answer, and he might hang up right away once he realizes it’s one of you.”

Jason makes a flippant motion with his hand,” whatever. I only need three seconds to tell him I’m gonna kill him.”

“And who said it would be you getting to make the call?” Damian turns to him. 

“You’re stuck in Gotham with Bats, shortstack. I’m getting to Wing first.”

“Tch,” Damian turns away,” I can go wherever I want, whenever I want. Regardless, I have Richard’s schedule memorized. It’s doubtful you can say the same.” 

Before Jason can think of a witty reply, Tim clears his throat. “I also have his patrols memorized, and I don’t always patrol with Bruce. Face it, I’m making that call.”

“Like hell you are, Replacement, you’re definitely not gonna give the bastard what he deserves—“

“I don’t have to kill him to make him suffer—“

“Correct, and I know the most torture methods so clearly I should be the one to—“

“Demon Spawn, I know more than enough to make it count. Replacement, if you give me Dick’s schedule I promise you can come—“

“What— Todd! I know his schedule, why would you not ask me—“

“Because I don’t know if I could give you the slip; I know I could get away from Timmers—“

“As if—“

“I can prove it—“

“Are you proposing a rooftop race training exercise?”

“Call it tag, you pretentious—“

“I would not engage in childish games like ‘tag,’ but a race —“

“Jason, he’s just too afraid he’ll lose at a ‘children’s game’—“

“How dare—“

All three of them are shut up by a burst of wheezing laughter, so loud it’s nearing painful. Dick is clutching at his abdomen and struggling to breathe, face bright red. 

Jason’s the first to crack, an incredulous laugh at his brother’s expression developing into a full on cackle at the entire situation. Tim’s laughing in confusion while Damian can’t hide the amusement in his face. 

“I’m— I’m sorry,” Dick says through laughs,” it’s just, you — I didn’t know—“ he cuts himself off with another round of humor. 

Jason recovers before him,” what’s got you all giggly?”

Dick wipes at his eye, smiling and cheeks hurting from how wide it is. “Nothing, nothing… now, who’s ‘it’ for rooftop tag?”

There’s a brief moment while his siblings share the smallest of glances, and then it’s all movement as they rush towards the bikes. Dick’s laughing again, standing to follow them out the cave as he grabs a spare mask from the cot-side table. 

Someone clears their throat from the top of the elevator stairwell. He turns to see Alfred, who he presumes has been eavesdropping-slash-waiting to be noticed. His siblings have frozen, half on the bikes with their belts or jackets respectively haphazardly secured. 

“I assume one of you was going to wait and tell me you were leaving, correct?” He asks with a raised brow.

Damian pipes up,” I noticed you were watching a few moments after Richard had calmed down and assumed that was warning enough.” He says it, but lacking his usual confidence, almost like a question. 

“Is that so?” Alfred asks. They all wait for the man’s judgment; the butler shifts his attention to Dick, who straightens up automatically. “And you’re feeling alright now?”

He nods, and Alfred makes a satisfied hum. He hides his disdain as he regards the bag of beverages on the table. “I presume the drinks that require preparation have their instructions with them.” Dick nods. “Alright, I expect you all back by 10.”

With that, he turns his back, the engines rev, and the race is on. And Dick smiles. Sure, tonight didn’t go exactly as planned, but he was right. 

Today is gonna be a good day.