Chapter Text
When Nightwing sees the assortment of ninja arranged out in the open courtyard, it takes everything in him not to throw back his head and groan in pure and utter exasperation.
But he’s a professional. So he doesn’t.
And if he does take a second—just a small second—to close his eyes behind his mask and mourn the fact he’s the adult in this situation (again), no one has to know.
(He really should know better by now. When does anything ever go their way?)
“We just wanna leave,” Nightwing says, and screw him, he can’t help a hint of irritation from escaping into his tone.
Sensei snarls at him, and because he’s a cranky old fart, lover of clichés and The Villain Classics, he says, “Your trespass must be punished.”
Superboy has even less patience for it than Nightwing does, bless his soul. “Wrong answer,” he says simply.
There’s no hesitation. Dick hasn’t fought with a team in awhile, not this team, anyway, but he doesn’t have to think, much less give any orders. Those who rely on long-distance attacks know to give way to the heavy-hitter and close-combat specialists, and without any coaching, they will support each other’s weaknesses and emphasize each other’s strengths, cover each other’s blind spots, and keep an eye on the newbs.
Nightwing trusts them to watch his back, and they trust he will watch theirs. Because that is what they do.
Nothing needs to be said. It’s the same old song and dance, and it’s as easy as breathing.
Dick and Conner move first, Conner launching himself toward Sensei with a superpowered leap and Dick pulling his escrima from his back. Tigress provides cover fire with her handheld crossbow while Black Lightning shoots a bolt at the red-hooded assassin, who breaks rank to rush them, goggles glinting in the moonlight.
The assassin moves like water incarnate, avoiding Jeff’s lightning bolt effortlessly. Nightwing knows talent when he sees it, and a thrill races down his spine as he clashes with his opponent.
From the moment Nightwing’s escrima stick makes contact with the assassin’s sword, he has a more well-rounded idea of who he’s facing. The guy is no novice on the battlefield—his reaction time is wicked—but the sword...it is new to him. Not his preferred weapon, without a doubt. He does not have the same rigid poise or disciplined precision that other Shadows have, but what he lacks in experience, he really does make up for in speed.
And in pure audacity, Nightwing thinks, both impressed and mildly disgusted as he spins out of the way of a cheap shot to his shin. Because whatever that was? That wasn’t League of Shadows protocol. At all.
Just where the hell did they pick up this guy?
And better yet: why does Ra’s have a new recruit acting as a part of his vanguard?
Something isn’t right here.
When Nightwing breaks away, the assassin flings himself right after him, hoping to press his advantage. The sword whistles past Nightwing’s ribs, and Dick twists and ducks under the assassin’s guard to jam the escrima stick right into his stomach. The blow knocks the wind out of his opponent, and he retreats, wheezing.
Barking a laugh at the assassin’s botched attempt to catch him on the sly, Nightwing spins his sticks and revels in the sudden spark of resentment in his opponent’s glare, which, despite every effort to conceal his face, the assassin projects through his body language alone. “Oh, ho, ho, if that’s how you’re gonna play it,” Nightwing sings, a baiting smirk on his face. The assassin twitches oddly, and Nightwing’s grin broadens. “Then let’s dance, Goggles!”
It’s amazing, how quickly Nightwing falls into a rhythm, losing himself in the ebb and flow of blows and retreats and backflips and kicks. Every sense is alight, but Nightwing only vaguely hears some commotion behind him as Brion flares up and Conner shouts M’gann’s name. He almost risks a single look over his shoulder, but he can’t—not now, not yet—his focus entirely on his opponent, on reaction and action and the strain and flex of his muscles, of the sweat gathering on his brow and the pace of his heart thud-dudding in his chest.
Until suddenly...
Everything falls away. He’s in the Cave, not fighting but sparring. Bare feet and sweats, loud music blaring and cries of frustration and laughter ringing across the cavern, Bruce’s precise forms—adapted from the Shadows and dozens of other masters—giving way to Dick’s specialized acrobatics, puppy wrestling, and...
What?
The odd prickle of déjà vu distorts his concentration, allowing the red-hooded lacky to get another lucky shot in—and a solid kick near the groin, no less, the punk—and Dick falls back to shake off the pain of the forming bruise at his navel. He recovers just in time to parry another overhanded sword swing and pushes off the ground to flip out of the ninja’s reach. He nails Goggles in the jaw with his foot on his way.
It’s barely a love tap: it doesn’t have nearly enough power to force the guy to the ground. Goggles stumbles, but his sword is already swinging up to meet Dick’s following blow.
“Enough,” comes an irked command from across the courtyard.
Ra’s al Ghul sounds almost bored. It’s a little insulting.
Goggles halts, deferring to his master immediately, and Dick is forced to abort his attack mid-swing.
Quickly, he takes stock of the situation, gaze darting around to his friends. Miss Martian and Superboy seem a little worse for wear, Tigress is shaking out her hand and cursing under her breath, and Brion is smoldering, but everyone is standing, which is good enough for Dick. Seeing everyone safe, he turns his attention to Ra’s.
“Well, young man,” Ra’s drawls from where he lurks in the darkness. “Are you proud of this little debacle?” Dick clenches his jaw, and as he steps into the light, Ra’s smirks. “I believe the Detective would be quite disappointed.”
Beside him, the red-hooded assassin tenses, his body rim-rod straight, but Dick ignores him, shaking away the sting of Ra’s’ diss. Rage pools in his gut, and he growls under his breath, baring his teeth.
Ever the picture of careless arrogance, Ra’s waves a hand and continues, “I assume you came to recover these children?” He does not wait for an answer, already turning away. “Take them and go.”
“Not without my sister,” Brion demands. Furious rivers of lava flow down his arms and up his face, blazing a deep trail as his temper flares. “Tara Markov. We know the League of Shadows has her.”
Surprise, surprise, it is Sensei who snaps, “Stay your tongue when addressing the Demon’s Head.”
Ra’s raises a hand, a wordless command to Sensei to stand down. “It is fine, Sensei.” He lowers his hand and glowers in Brion’s direction. “Boy, the Shadows may indeed have your sister, but I’m not longer head of the Shadows. As you can see, there are no Shadows here. In fact—” His gaze flicks to Nightwing “—I’m no longer part of the Light.”
Dick’s eyes widen in surprise, and he can see the smug satisfaction on Ra’s’ face, to have caught him—and therefore Batman, Robin, and Oracle, whose intel was his own—unawares.
What the hell is going on here?
Bruce, Tim, and Babs aren’t infallible—of course they’re not—but it is a one-in-one-thousand chance that all three of them are wrong. The entire Family will need to investigate how they missed this—as that is probably the question with the most dangerous answer—but the more immediate question is why? Why did Ra’s leave the Light? Why did he give up the Shadows?
Or worse yet: was Ra’s actually overthrown? And if so, who could have done it? Who had the power to...?
Dread cartwheels through his chest, heart skipping several beats. Something really isn’t right here.
“He lies,” Brion hisses suddenly, venom dripping from his voice.
Nightwing yanks himself out of his thoughts to step up and de-escalate. “Ra’s al Ghul is many things,” he says, “but a liar isn’t one of them.”
Brion simmers with disbelief, but his fury cools enough that his geo-forced armor crumbles away.
Tigress steps up to question Ra’s, and Dick would feel grateful for her taking the helm, but he is sucked back into his own personal whirlwind, unable to wrap his mind around the impossibility of what Ra’s just revealed.
Ra’s Founded the League of Shadows. He’s the Demon’s Head. That isn’t nothing.
So why? Why did things change?
He realizes he should be paying attention, even if he knows Ra’s will tell them nothing more, or maybe he should be telling Tigress to stand down. She poses a question to Ra's that amuses him and then another that tests his patience.
Ra's' expression is dead and dry when Dick forces himself to tune back in again, clearly Done with them and Artemis' interrogation. “Get ou—"
A sharp wail rings across the courtyard, and the red-hooded assassin, who was in the process of slinking back to Ra’s’ side, jolts to a stop again, head cocking, attention ricocheting from Ra’s to a dark alcove beneath one of the covered pathways surrounding the courtyard.
The entire group falls into a silence so thick the very air trembles with its weight, and it’s as though everyone is holding their breath.
“What,” Dick asks, because he must be hearing things, “was that?”
Ra’s’ eyes have gone flinty, his tone chilly as ice. “None of your concern.”
“It sounded,” Conner snaps, “a hell of a lot like a baby.”
The accusation does not break Ra’s’ composure in the least. Nightwing was watching for it. “Leave me to mine, Nightwing,” the immortal says, disregarding Conner entirely. “And take yours with you.”
A baby. Conner heard it too. He’s not going crazy from exhaustion and caffeine-deprivation, then. Nightwing meets Ra’s’ eyes steadily, his instincts urging him to stand his ground. “I don’t think so,” he growls, hands itching for his escrima again. “Not yet.”
Ra’s’ eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth, probably to spit vitriol or presume to chastise him again. At this point, Dick can’t give a single damn. He had been prepared to leave unsatisfied, but now? Now, he’s not leaving without answers.
“Hey,” Black Lightning calls uneasily from the back of the group, “you alright there, dude?”
It’s so random and unexpected that Dick dares to turn from his staring match with Ra’s. Black Lightning inches away from the team to approach Goggles, who is quaking from head to toe, shaky hand shoving back his hood and running through his dark hair.
What the fuck? What is going on here?
“Night...wing?” Goggles grunts.
“Um...yeah?” Dick asks, frowning. There’s an odd change in the air, tension screaming through Ra’s’ entourage.
The assassin, though, isn’t bound by the same shackles the others are. He shakes his head like a dog. “No... No.”
Ra’s barks an order in Arabic, a dagger slithering from its sheath, but Goggles doesn’t respond to it. Maybe he doesn’t even hear it. He looks up, straight at Dick.
“Gray...son?”
The world stops.
Useless and rooted to the ground, legs threatening to give out, heart thundering in his chest, the world narrowing...
The voice of his dead brother washes over him in a roar.
He...he doesn’t understand. It can’t be. It can’t.
“Jason?” Dick breathes, and the moment it’s out in the open, he knows.
He knows.
Jason’s alive. He’s here.
Dick’s eyes burn behind his mask, and he almost laughs because, honestly, who the fuck else would fight that dirty, even after Shadows training? Who else would move like that? Slick as a street cat, flighty as a Robin, silent as a Bat...
He’s alive.
“Jason,” Dick says again, and this time, Jason—it’s really him—responds to Dick’s voice, breath hitching. Several of his friends gasp behind them, their murmurs of disbelief and wordless exclamations of surprise bolstering him like the cheers of a full house underneath the Big Top. He steps forward, pushing through the crushing relief, the hope, the utter incredulity cementing him to the ground. “I—”
He doesn’t get to finish. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, and when the world turns again, it shatters into a million pieces.
Ra’s entourage explodes into motion. With all the speed of a striking snake, Ra’s has Jason in a headlock, his expression contorted with promises of death and retribution. The blade of his dagger digs into the vulnerable flesh of Jason’s throat.
“NO!” A woman’s voice splinters the air, and the pop of a silenced pistol cracks through the night.
“DOWN!” Conner orders. Half of Dick’s team drops to the ground at the sound of the gunshot. The other half crouches low beneath Halo’s red shield.
The bullet finds its target in Big-Guy-With-Laser-Gun, who hollers in pain, his weapon falling from his now-useless hand. Blood streams from the gunshot wound, bits of bone spiking through his skin. Sensei spits curses and threats, but when he levels his sword at the new threat, Ra’s stays him again with a single biting word.
“Show yourself!” Ra’s commands, addressing the hidden assailant. “Now.”
Talia al Ghul steps out from behind a pillar, her head held proudly. One arm is held aloft, her pistol loaded and aimed at her father while the other clutches a squirming bundle to her chest.
The baby whimpers, and Dick can’t get a word past the stone lodged in his throat. Jason’s turning into the edge of the blade, in the direction of the baby, oblivious to its bite.
“You dare,” Ra’s snarls.
“I do dare,” Talia says. “For my Beloved. And for my son.”
Ra’s’ face purples. “I warned you, daughter. I warned you what would come of this. I told you I would indulge your pet project, and if he stepped a single toe out of line...” The dagger presses a little deeper into Jason’s neck. Dick can see blood welling, staining the dark red of his face mask.
“Stop!” Dick croaks, and he scrambles to his feet, hands held placatingly. Jason is still as stone, and he doesn’t understand. Why isn’t he mouthing off? Why isn’t he doing anything? Dick can’t... “Ra’s!” he begs.
Ra’s doesn’t deign to respond to him. He’s fixated on his daughter, his jaw tight. “You have ruined everything.”
M’gann, Dick projects as loudly as he can. M’gann.
He feels her touch in his mind, and his own joy and pain and confusion and utter desperation is reflected like a mirror back at him. She reads the floundering panic in his head and somehow extrapolates what he’s trying to tell her.
Hold, Dick, she says to him, and it’s the hardest thing he’s had hear. He takes a deep breath, and his plan to get Jason out of there starts to piece together with her help. Images flash through his mind. Conner and Artemis are invited into the mind-link, and the fierce array of emotion that pours in—for him, for Jason—nearly overwhelms him.
Hold.
“I will not allow you to have him,” Talia says, eyes alight with protective fire. “And if it means I have ruined your plans, then I do it gladly, for it means Damian is safe from the likes of you.”
An inhuman scream of rage tears its way through Ra’s’ lips, but nearly as soon as it starts...
A green dart zips through the air. Ra’s topples, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sensei and Big-Guy-With-Laser-Gun follow before Miss Martian or Superboy can even touch them. They crumple to the floor as unceremoniously as their master.
Silence reigns.
Jason staggers to his knees, and Dick moves as though possessed. Without a single thought, he’s there, squatting at his side. His training, drilled into him by Bruce, takes control, and he does not hesitate to help Jay remove his face mask, tenderly drawing the fabric away from the wound in his neck, which, by his estimate, really isn’t half as bad as he feared it was.
“I’ve got you,” he says, and he’s been repeating it from the moment Ra’s fell. He takes a field bandage and a travel-sized canister of antiseptic from his belt. He begins tending to the wound, Jason braving the sting of the medicine like a champ. “I’ve got you.”
“Dick,” Jason interrupts under his breath, goggles glinting. He is breathing oddly still, and his head...it must hurt, judging by the way his brow pinches.
“Yeah, bud,” Dick whispers, and as Jason wrenches his goggles off, Dick huffs a watery chuckle because God, he’s grown. He’s....God, he’s alive. It’s him. “It’s me.”
“Nightwing!”
Dick’s gaze shoots up at Conner’s call, and he watches as a Shadow flits across the slanted rooftops, sliding down from her perch and landing lightly next to Talia, who drops her weapon like it’s scalded her. Cheshire, for her part, slips her extra darts into her belt and slinks over to murmur into Talia’s ear.
Tigress’s jaw is hanging to the floor. “Jade?” she demands. “What the actual fuck?”
Cheshire turns and slides her mask up into her thick mane of hair, a playful smile on her face. “Well, would you look at that. Quite a time for family reunions, wouldn’t you say, sis?”
“That’s—that’s all you have to say?” Artemis stammers. Her expression is a storm cloud, and her voice steadies. “You disappear for two years, and that’s all you have to say?”
“Don’t play with your food, Cheshire,” Talia orders mildly as she bounces her baby. “It’s unbecoming.”
“Screw you, Talia,” Artemis mutters.
Talia’s eyes flash. “Enough. Ra’s has an unfortunate tolerance to most poisons and sedatives. He will wake sooner than we’d like, and you need to be long gone before then. We do not have time to pander to your petty rivalries.”
Jade hums, looking not in the least bit chastised, and quirks a claw at Nightwing. “She’s right. Get your pretty ass over here, Boy Wonder. Leave zombie boy for a moment.”
“Like hell,” Dick says, turning back to Jason, who’s gone still again. Terrifyingly still. His overpowering delight and disbelief is tempered as fear prickles at his scalp. What is wrong with him?
“That’s no way to thank me,” Cheshire pouts. “I did you and your little family a favor.”
“Enough games, Jade!” Tigress shouts, and there are layers of hurt and fury in her voice. “What the hell is going on?”
“Things are not as they seem,” Talia says, and stepping gracefully over the bodies of her father’s bodyguards, she approaches Dick and Jason. Jade follows, with far less consideration to the unconscious.
“Stand, if you will, Richard,” Talia requests.
The odd note of amiability, of muted respect, in her voice surprises him, and he finds himself rising. Jason struggles to follow, and Dick automatically helps him up. “What have you done to Jason?” he asks. “How did this happen?”
Talia stares at him with piercing green eyes. “It is a mystery, even to us,” she reveals. "I found him, catatonic on the streets. He does all that he needs to survive, and he can fight and follow orders, as you have seen, but he does not speak. He does not remember.” She sighs. “I took him, with every intention of returning him to Gotham healed in mind. But...”
Dick highly doubts her motivations are as simple as that, but all he can think in that moment is that she found him, which means that they missed him, and an ugly, guilty sense of inadequacy grips him by the throat. “But?” Dick demands.
“But it was for naught,” she says. “That is, until he recognized you.” She surveys him with an interested expression. “A most curious happenstance. Had I known you would trigger something in him, I would have—” The baby fusses in her arms, and she trails off to hum a comforting tune to him. “Well,” she finally says when the babe settles, “it is of no consequence now.”
For the first time, Dick takes a moment to appreciate the fact there is a baby there. With Talia. On Infinity Island. A living child. It’s almost surreal.
Dick looks around at Ra’s, at Sensei and Big-Guy-With-Laser-Gun, and pity wells in him. No child deserves a life like this.
Damian, she called him? It’s a nice name. He’s a cute kid, too. With pudgy cheeks and a dark puff of hair that looks beyond soft to the touch.
“I don’t understand,” he says. “It almost sounds as if...”
“Yes, Richard. I did arrange this meeting,” Talia says softly, and something breaks in her tone. She’s looking at Damian like he’s her entire world. “In part. Circumstances played out quite nicely in my favor, thanks to your...friends.” Her gaze darts to where the three newbies have congregated and back again. “I apologize for the dramatics, in any case. My father could not suspect. Otherwise...I dread what would have happened."
"Why was it necessary?" Dick growls, a delayed sense of anger rising in him.
"It is Ms. Nguyen who convinced me this was the best course of action."
Jade steps forward, taking a hold of Talia’s arm with far more familiarity than Dick can believe. From over Talia’s shoulder, Dick sees Artemis’ stunned expression match his. “It is for the best,” Jade whispers. “My Lian...” She shakes her head, trailing off. “She has grown. So much. She is better off without me. Safe. Healthy. Happy.”
And that alone is enough to demolish Artemis’s cold, unforgiving expression. “Jade,” she breathes, heart breaking in her voice.
“As will Damian be without me,” Talia admits. She takes a shuddering breath, and after pressing a light kiss to his nose, she holds the baby out to Dick. “Take him.”
Dick stares. "Um?"
Amusement flickers across Talia’s face, lips twitching. “Surely you have guessed, Richard?”
What was he supposed to guess? Hadn’t enough happened in the last few minutes to give him a little bit of leeway? He looks at Jason, who is watching the proceedings with a distant expression. He’s not about to get a clue from him. “...No?”
“In that case," Talia says, "meet your brother.”
Dick’s heart stops. “My...?”
Motherhood has softened Talia, without a doubt. She’s never been so gentle, so understanding. She rolls her eyes, almost fond, and as she expertly braces Damian on a hip, she uses her free hand to maneuver Dick’s arms, where, when she’s satisfied with the positioning, she finally deposits Damian. Jason hovers closer, and there’s a shadow of a smile on his face.
“He is of Al Ghul and Wayne blood,” Talia says. “He will be great.”
“He’s...” Dick’s throat is swollen with unshed tears.
“Yes,” Talia answers. “And he must leave. My father...I do not wish to see Damian a pawn in his plans. And now that we no longer lead the Shadows, it is too dangerous—much, much too dangerous—for him to remain anywhere near us. Near me. At least, not until I have taken control again.”
“Oh,” Dick murmurs, and as Damian blinks up at him, he feels a grin start to break across his face. He looks a lot like Talia, but there’s something unmistakably Bruce in his gaze. “Hi there.”
Talia catches his attention and showcases a flash-drive, which he takes immediately from her. “Everything you need is here. Every answer to any number of your questions. My Beloved will know what to do with it.” To Jason she adds, “You may have no love for me or my father, after all we have done, but I ask you continue to protect him, Jason Todd.”
“Aww,” Dick can’t help but coo when Jason responds to the order, jerking his chin up in a semblance of a nod. “You guys bond without me, Little Wing?”
Jason’s gaze sharpens, and he looks more present than he had before. He flicks a Look at Dick, but what little life and individuality he just expressed is sucked away, leaving behind a semi-blank state.
Dick’s ember of hope falters, but he pushes his doubts and fears away. “I’ll take care of them,” he says fiercely to Talia. “You have my word, Talia.”
Talia looks satisfied by his promise. “I know you will,” she says, and a chain falls from between her fingers, a heavy pendant on its end. “Take this, as well.”
Dick tenderly accepts it and brings it up to his face. Within the heart of the pendant, the vibrant green waters of Lazarus swirl. Disgusted, he jerks it away and offers it back to her. “I can’t take this,” he says.
Shaking her head, she takes his hand and wraps his fingers back over the pendant. “For Jason,” she says simply. “If he does not improve and there is no other option. Consider it my apology, for keeping him from you.”
This is no gift, but a curse. Dick doesn’t like it, but maybe Bruce will appreciate the gesture. At the very least, he will jump at the chance to study it in more detail. As Dick tucks the pendant and flash-drive away, Talia takes the opportunity to rest her hand on Damian’s head. She murmurs a tender blessing under her breath, and when she raises her eyes, they are hard as stone.
“It is time,” she says. “Go.”
“Wait.” Latent questions come spiraling to the forefront of his mind. “You can’t just—”
Ra’s stirs, and Talia snarls, finally withdrawing from her son. “The flash-drive, Richard! Everything is there. Now leave, before everything is undone! I will keep my father occupied when he awakes.”
“You heard the lady!” Artemis snaps to their team. “Get on the Bio-ship!”
“I’m sorry,” Brion says, shaking his head. “But—”
“Forager does not—”
“Move now, questions later!” Her tone is downright ferocious, and no one dares to argue or speak up as they hustle to do as they’re told.
“Artemis,” Jade calls as her sister, Jeff, and Conner follow the newbies onto Bio-Ship. When Artemis spares her a glance, Jade says, “Kiss Lian for me, will you?”
Artemis freezes for a moment before she nods once. Jade seems to understand that all is not completely forgiven, nor would it ever be, and she offers a melancholy, somewhat cynical smile before sliding her mask back over her face.
Dick doesn’t remember getting onto the Bio-Ship himself. He vaguely recalls M’gann zipping over to grip him by the shoulders and lead him on. He might have said something to her, about Jason’s mind, and about how they were going to need her and J’onn’s help, and Jesus, what was he going to tell Bruce? Alfred? What about the girls? And Tim?
(Tim’s going to flip his shit. He’d always looked up to Jason, hadn’t he? And Cass? Cass never knew Jason. He can’t even imagine...).
Dick, M’gann shushes him. The mission is over. Stop thinking, for once, and just be there. In the moment. With them.
So he does. He eventually stops talking as everyone settles and the Bio-Ship lifts off. Messages from Babs begin to filter in now that they’re off Infinity Island, but he can’t bother to answer them, let alone read them.
He soaks in the sight of his brothers. “I can’t believe this,” Dick says to himself, and if he's crying, he can't bring himself to care. Jason is the only one near enough to hear him, and Dick’s rewarded with a hint of a smirk. “Shut up,” he says, because that smirk very obviously translates to something along the lines of well, believe it, Dickwad. “You don’t get to judge me right now, asshole. You died. And now you’re alive. I have every right to be weepy about it.”
Jason’s smirk becomes more defined, and overcome by affection, Dick beams and, careful not to jostle Damian, takes an arm to wrap it around Jason. “I don’t care how or why, but I’m so happy you’re alive, Jaybird.”
Jason, to Dick’s surprise, doesn’t flinch or scowl but rather tucks himself, momentarily, into Dick’s side-embrace.
“Fuck,” Dick says, huffing a breathy laugh, and his eyes are really burning now, overflowing with tears. He tears his mask off to rub them away. “Fuck.”
Black Lightning, ever the parent, coughs politely. Dick resists the urge to stick out his tongue when Jeff’s severe eyes dart to and from the kids, who are not attempting to hide their stares as he struggles to compose himself.
“So,” Brion says, breaking the silence, “am I allowed to ask what just happened?”
Conner snorts, folding his arms. “No. Bat business is none of your business,” he says bluntly.
“Conner,” M’gann chides.
“What?” Conner says. “It’s true. Superman doesn’t even—”
Dick doesn’t get to hear what Conner says in his or Clark's defense. There’s a beep in his ear, and he jerks upright, spine snapping straight. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, he’s not ready for this, not from—
“Nightwing,” Batman growls over the line. “Report. What is your location?”
Oh. Oh, God. Dick’s heart sprints. Oracle, he could handle, probably, but Batman? Jason back, a son Bruce never knew about in his arms... He can’t just break this news over the comm, can he? And definitely not to Batman.
He needs Bruce.
“Nightwing.”
Batman’s tone is nonnegotiable. He unravels his arm from Jason, adjusts Damian on his lap, and presses the comm. “Here, B.”
Batman is silent for a moment, but Dick knows him well enough to read the pause, to hear exactly what isn’t being said. “Location,” Batman finally grunts, as though he doesn’t already know. He wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t already know.
“Um...” Dick purses his lips. “Well, it’s a bit of a funny story.”
“I’m not laughing,” Batman says.
“I wasn’t either,” Dick agrees. “I’m going to have a super serious conversation about it with them.”
Jason exhales what sounds like a laugh, and Dick nudges him in the shoulder to get him to be quiet. “I can be serious,” he says, for both Jason and Batman’s benefit. He looks up to see Forager, Halo, and Brion accepting M’gann and Artemis’s requests to check them over for any injuries. Grateful beyond words for their intervention, and for giving him, Damian, and Jason some space, he throws a soundless thank you over the mind-link.
“They can’t do this again,” Dick says to Batman.
Artemis must overhear him because she meets his eye and gives him a distinct look. Great. So they are saving the lecture—and the explanation—for him. Just swell. That’s what he gets, he supposes.
“That sounds awfully familiar." If Dick isn't mistaken, that's definitely some amusement filtering through Batman's voice. “Doesn’t it?”
“You’re not helping.”
“Karma,” is all Bruce can say in response to that.
“Ha, ha,” Dick mutters. “But seriously, we’re all fine.”
“Hmph.”
“Oh, don’t give me that, B,” Dick says. “We...we’re better than fine. I...”
Jason’s blinking at him, looking a little agitated, and it distracts him. He trails off, his tongue as heavy as lead. He shrugs helplessly at his brother and mouths, What do you expect me to say?
“You are going to have to apologize to Oracle,” Batman says.
Dick winces. The rescue op was so last minute he didn’t have a chance to give Babs a heads up before flying into the dead zone that was Infinity Island. She’s going to have his balls for that. “Yup, without a doubt.”
“Return to Gotham tonight,” Batman requests. “After. We need to talk.”
Lately, Dick hasn’t been able to stomach Gotham, especially not with how much work there’s left to do with the meta-human trafficking problem, but he aches to be home, more so than he can remember being in a long, long time.
But he can’t. They can’t. They need to find out what’s wrong with Jason, first and foremost. “Um, about that.”
Batman sighs over the comm. “What.”
“I...might have picked up something,” Dick hedges. “Two somethings, actually.”
Damian takes offense to that, and his little face wrinkles up. For as good as he has been, Dick’s startled when he begins screaming at the top of his lungs. He immediately switches his comm to mute and, in a panic, tries to soothe him.
“Dick.”
Dick spins to Jason, surprised. Jason’s eyebrows raise, and he gestures impatiently. It takes Dick a moment to realize what he’s asking.
He wavers for a second, but Batman’s starting to demand answers in his ear, so he slides Damian into Jason’s arms.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Dick rushes to say, and he can’t keep the smile off his face as he watches Jason settle down with Damian, who quiets and blinks with utter fascination at the goggles Jason’s decided to flash around to occupy his attention.
Jason’s smiling again, too, and Dick’s heart swells.
“Are you?” Bruce asks doubtfully. “What have you done?”
“Me?” Dick repeats in mock offense. “I didn’t do anything. I just...may need you to brace yourself. This is...big.”
Batman mulls over his words, and Dick holds his breath, hoping beyond hope he’ll leave the mystery alone, for once in his life. “Watchtower?” Bruce asks finally.
“Yes,” Dick says, hiding a sigh of relief. “Clear everyone out, if possible. And...” He closes his eyes. “Just you. No one else.”
“...Okay.”
Dick makes eye contact with Artemis and taps his wrist. She glances at Bio-Ship’s dashboard and flashes ten fingers twice. “Twenty minutes out from the nearest Zeta,” Dick tells Bruce. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Batman out,” Bruce says.
The line goes dead, and Dick rubs his eyes, blowing out a puff air. Shuffling over to Jason and Damian, he says, “It’s going to be okay. Dad’s going to meet us soon.”
Jason jolts, pain flitting over his face as his brow furrows. “Bruce?” he eventually manages to say, and it sounds as though he’s hardly daring to hope.
“Yeah,” Dick says, smiling. “We’re taking you and Damian home, Jaybird.”
“Home,” Jason breathes, and he closes his eyes, a few tears falling from his eyelashes. All remaining tension and pain drains from his face, and when he opens his eyes again, he offers Dick his brightest smile.
For the first time since he got Jason back, Dick sees Robin in that smile.
Dick wipes his own face and ruffles Jason’s hair. “Watch over Damian for me for a sec.” When Jason starts, Dick is quick to reassure him. “I’m not going far, promise. I’ll be right there.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of the others. “I need to be The Adult for a minute, but then I’ll be right back.”
It kills him to turn his back. The others are whispering amongst themselves again, tones argumentative, and as Dick crosses the Bio-Ship, he realizes it may take more than a minute to lecture, and few more to explain what he can. He’s not exactly looking forward to it, but as he studies Forager, Halo, and Brion—how they move around each other, how they act in each others’ presence—he sees something that makes his heart leap.
Nostalgia settles over him like a hearth-warmed blanket.
Don’t go too hard on them, Conner says, addressing him through the mind-link. There’s a deep sense of empathy and pride transmitting over the link that the clone can’t even pretend to hide. M’gann takes a hold of her fiancé’s arm and leans her head into his shoulder.
Dick snickers, recalling their conversation on the ride over. How can I? They’re us. Besides, he adds, looking back at Jason and Damian, a delirious joy filling him up to the brim, without them...
Artemis sidles up to him, knowing what he can’t express in words. They’ve mourned together, and they’ve shared so much over the last two years they don’t need words to ground the other. She shares his blind happiness, and Dick can sense she’s been also struggling with tears from the moment they were safe in the air.
(She always liked Jason. Out of everyone from his original team, she was the one who bonded most with him).
Jason, for his part, hasn’t taken his eyes off Dick since he turned his back, and Damian, it seems, has lost interest in Jason’s goggles in favor of watching Dick, too, his curious eyes glistening with unshed tears from his random tantrum.
One brother found, another gained. He doesn't know what's going to happen next, but everything's about to change. For the better. It may not be easy, what with Jason's memory loss and partial muteness and Lord knows what other traumas, but the payoff is sure to be everything. The thought of reconnecting—as a family—of watching Bruce grow as a father, promises of seeing Damian grow, as well, and with Jason there to be an older brother, too? As he should have been from the beginning?
Dick always wanted a big family, even before his parents fell. His had grown since Jason had died, but that doesn't mean Jason hadn’t left a gaping hole where none could reach. And that hole? It finally, finally, feels full again.
And that was because of these fledgling heroes.
Yeah, this is probably going to be the worst lecture in the history of ever. He may have a lot to say to them—about responsibility and being smart and listening to (some) orders when necessary and what it means to be a part of a Team—but...
He really does have even more to thank them for, doesn’t he?