Chapter Text
“Is everything okay?” Dick asked walking into the cave.
“Yep,” Jason said bouncing up from the desk chair.
Tim launched himself at Dick ahead of Jason. Dick caught Tim in one arm. Cass slipped under his other arm.
“Hey!” Jason pouted.
Grinning, Tim stuck out his tongue at Jason.
Dick moved forward and, without dislodging Cass, used his slightly, freer, hand to grab Jason’s shirt and pull him close enough to rest his chin on Jason’s head. Leaning forward, Jason wrapped his arms around Dick before glancing up and sticking his tongue out at Tim.
Arms full of all his little siblings who were awake, Dick looked at Bruce. “Why did you ask me to come to the cave? I was going to meet you on patrol tonight.”
“I have something for you,” Bruce said picking up a case off of the desk. Halfway through the motion of handing it to Dick, he paused and raised his eyebrows at his children.
Dick let Tim and Jason go as they untangled themselves from him. Cass stayed where she was and grinned when Jason and Tim frowned at her. “He has a free hand now. He only needs one.”
“That’s not fair,” Jason said.
“It’s not,” Tim agreed folding his arms.
Their outrage didn’t last; their focus shifting as Bruce handed the case to Dick.
Dick smiled at his siblings’ antics before switching his attention to getting the case open one-handed. It took him a moment, and then the lid was up and he was staring down at a very familiar blue symbol.
The cave was still, everyone holding their breath. Dick only half registered Cass slipping from his side. He brushed his fingers over the symbol before pulling out a Wingding, a smile breaking across his face.
“Is it right?” Bruce asked.
“Yeah, it is,” Dick said.
Bruce relaxed, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”
“I should have known,” Dick shook his head looking at Jason, Tim, and Cass. “This is why you guys have been asking me all those questions about Nightwing and why Tim wanted me to draw what my suit looked like. Dick laughed. “I really should have figured it out.”
“But you were distracted by Lex,” Jason said.
“That’s also why we split up the questions between us and didn’t ask all at once,” Tim said.
“We did a good job,” Cass said nodding.
“Yes,” Dick agreed.
“It’s time to suit up,” Bruce said.
Dick stepped forward and Bruce opened his arms to accept the hug. “Thank you,” Dick whispered before he released his hold and turned to the changing rooms, everyone else following behind.
For the first time in over a decade, Nightwing flew over the streets of Gotham.
Three nights later…
“Okay,” Dick said. “Before we head out on patrol there is something very important we need to take care of.”
Tim and Alfred paused what they were doing at the computer while Jason, Cass, Barbara, and Bruce switched directions from the car.
Shaking his head, his face deadly serious, Dick kept going. “This is truly grievous! I can’t believe I let it go on this long!”
“What is?” Barbara asked.
“It’s okay,” Cass said stepping up so she could lean her head against him. “You’ve been busy with Lex. You can fix it now.”
“Thanks, Cass,” Dick said wrapping his arm around her. “But that’s not an excuse. However, yes, I will correct the issue now.”
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked.
With his free hand, Dick held up a small object. “What is this?”
Jason squinted at the bat-shaped projectile confused. “It’s one of B’s throwing stars.”
Dick sighed. “This is all my fault. I have completely failed at my brotherly duties!” Dick shook his head again before grinning. “Okay, lesson one! Throwing stars are star-shaped not bat-shaped. So, this,” He wiggled the projectile in his hand, “Is not a throwing star. This is a Batarang!”
Jason blinked. Tim cocked his head. Cass took the Batarang from Dick. Bruce frowned. Barbara voiced their confusion. “Batarang?”
“Yep!” Dick said.
Cass flipped it over in her hands before nodding with a smile. “Batarang!” She passed it to Jason who studied it as if he had never seen one before.
“Wait, the thing we need to fix, is us not knowing the proper name for my projectiles?” Bruce asked.
“Oh, not just those,” Dick said.
“There’s more?” Jason asked.
Tim shrugged. “He did say it was lesson one.”
“Yes!” Dick nodded. “Like for instance, lesson two, what is behind me?”
“The computer,” Barbara said raising her eyebrows.
“Yes, but not any computer,” Dick said. “That’s the Batcomputer, and then there is the name for where we are.”
“The Batcave?” Tim asked starting to bounce on his toes.
“Yes!” Dick grinned. “See, you’re starting to figure it out. Now under certain circumstances, it is fine to occasionally shorten it to the Cave, but it’s important to know the full name.”
Tim nodded enthusiastically before frowning. “What about the car? Batcar sounds weird.”
“Good ear! Yeah, you’re right, Batcar would be ridiculous!” Dick agreed. “That’s why it’s clearly the Batmobile!”
“Oh,” Tim grinned. “Yeah, that’s much better!”
“Batarang, Batcomputer, Batcave, Batmobile,” Cass looked up at Dick. “What else?”
“Well, there’s also the Batcycle, and Batplane” Dick said.
“Wait,” Jason said cocking his head. “Your throwing things aren’t star-shaped, or bat-shaped, so what are they called?”
“Oh, those,” Dick smiled. “Those are Wingdings! There’s also the Birdarangs,” He paused narrowing his eyes. “But I don’t think you have those yet. We’ll have to fix that later.”
“I’m going to get my own throwing things?!” Jason asked.
“Obviously!” Dick said. “You’re Robin. It’s important that you can use Batarangs, but Robins are birds so you need Birdarangs too!”
“Cool!” Jason grinned.
“Wait, Robin is Batman’s partner so isn’t he a bat too?” Tim asked.
“Yep, he’s both.” Dick grinned. “He’s a bat-bird!”
Bruce sighed as he watched Jason, Tim, and Cass nod along with Dick, fully invested in learning all the ‘proper’ names for things. Barbara was giving Dick skeptical looks, but Bruce knew she would get pulled in sooner or later.
He briefly wondered if a timeline had existed where he could say no to Dick. Considering how young Dick had become Robin, he figured the answer was no. Also Dick being eight explained the names.
He glanced at Alfred who was smiling at the antics before turning his focus back to Dick’s naming lesson. After all, it would be very embarrassing for Batman not to know what his own equipment was called.
Two weeks later…
Jason glanced over at Nightwing crouched beside him. For the moment it was just the two of them which meant this was the opportunity that Jason had been waiting for.
When Dick had first told them everything, the question hadn’t been on Jason’s mind. Really, he hadn’t thought of it until a month later. A few weeks had passed, but getting Dick alone was incredibly difficult.
It had been over a month, but everyone still wanted to be near Dick as much as possible. Jason couldn’t judge since he was included in that, but it wasn’t just them because Dick seemed just as desperate, more so actually, to have all of them close where he could see and touch and hold them.
Dick did a decent job hiding it. He still went to work, and he spent days with the Carters, but when he came to the manor there was always a tension about him--a tension that didn’t leave until the seven of them were all together in one room.
None of them complained that Bruce and Damian were always the first ones Dick was pulled to. They all understood, or at least they understood as much as they could.
Bruce was Dick’s dad. He had been for decades, and then suddenly he wasn’t. Now that he was again, Dick didn’t want to lose him again. Bruce had only been Jason’s dad for a few years, but he couldn’t imagine Bruce suddenly not being his dad anymore. He couldn’t imagine losing Bruce. He knew he wouldn’t want to leave his dad’s side if he lost him, and then got him back.
And Damian… Well, when it came out that in the other timelines, Dick was the one who brought Damian into the family, and he was the one who raised him first because they thought Bruce was dead, when it came out that in most timelines he had adopted Damian, no one could be upset with him for giving Damian extra attention. Damian was his son. Besides, Dick gave Jason, Tim, and Cass all the attention they demanded and then some. They already had a dad. They all just wanted their big brother.
Jason knew there was something with him. It was more subtle. It had taken them all longer to notice, but it was there. They still didn’t have an explanation from Dick for it, but Jason had noticed that more often than not, Dick’s hand would find its way to his pulse point.
At first, Jason hadn’t thought much about it because he had seen Dick do it with everyone else too. Jason hadn’t said anything, but then Tim mentioned it. They asked Cass if she noticed, and she agreed. Dick did it occasionally to all of them, but when it came to Jason it was more than occasionally.
Jason hadn’t been able to stop himself from thinking about how close he had come to death when the Joker took him, about how Dick had panicked after the bomb went off even though they were out. They didn’t tell their dad even though he probably also had the same thoughts, and they didn’t ask Dick about it.
Now though, Robin and Nightwing were a few rooftops away from everyone else. Jason could ask the question--the question that had been on his mind since the start of school.
“So,” Jason said, “Do you like math?”
Looking over at him, Dick cocked his head. “Yes. Why?”
“Good,” Jason grinned. “I knew it was a weird oldest brother thing.”
“Hey!” Dick exclaimed putting a hand over his chest. “I am extremely cool, and what’s with asking a question about what I enjoy just to make fun of me for it?”
“I’m not making fun of you,” Jason said shifting. “I just don’t like math, and I’ve always kinda thought it was something an older brother would like because then… Um… then they could help their younger siblings with it.”
“Oh.” Smiling, Dick wrapped his arm around Jason’s shoulder. “I would love to help with math, or anything else, but definitely math.”
Jason leaned into him.
“No, comment,” Gordon said before slamming his phone down with a sigh.
It had been two weeks since Peter Jackson came forward as Dick Grayson, the son of John and Mary Grayson, the boy who had been missing for almost eleven years. If that hadn’t gotten the media’s attention his adoption by Bruce Wayne less than a week later certainly had.
It had been all over the news.
The media had spent the last week and a half tearing into the story from every angle. All of them had rerun the story of the Flying Grayson’s murder and the subsequent disappearance of their son.
Some spoke about the new events as a happy ending to a tragic story. Most accused Dick of just being after Bruce’s money--several going as far as challenging whether he really was Dick Grayson regardless of the DNA match.
All of them called Gordon looking for a statement.
The only statement he had given was at a press conference where he had said that because of the circumstances and because everything was legitimate, Dick’s job was not at risk. The press wanted more, and whether at home or at work, he couldn’t escape them.
After a week and a half, he was really tired of it.
Gordon rubbed his eyes. The storm would pass eventually. Unfortunately, what he was working on would probably be fuel to the fire.
On the one hand, things were starting to calm back down at the department since approval for funds had finally gone through, and they had been able to replace the cruisers. At the same time that approval had gone through because several people in positions of power had gone down along with the gang who had tried to move into Gotham.
The GCPD had its resources back, but now the city was scrambling to fill in the gaps while figuring out the full extent of damage done by the misuse of power.
Matters were further complicated by the F.B.I. getting involved because when they took Lex Luther down they had discovered things that implicated him as the mastermind behind a network of powerful gangs spread across the country, the one in Gotham only the newest. It was unclear if they would be able to prove it in court, but with everything else, they were determined to run it down.
The mess that the gang had caused along with the F.B.I.’s interest in the investigation was the perfect chance to move Carter and Grayson to detectives since they were the ones who had closed the case.
The problem, Dick already had the media’s focus and Gordon was not looking forward to giving them more to talk about. Peter Jackson had been young to become a detective and was still a fairly new beat cop. Dick Grayson had the same, minimal, experience as Peter, but he was a year younger. While David had the experience to allow for that kind of promotion, promoting him would make him a new detective, which meant he should be partnered with someone who was already a detective.
What it boiled down to: If Gordon followed procedure, Grayson shouldn’t be moved up, David should be, but needed to be put with an experienced detective.
What Gordon planned to do was move both of them up and leave them as partners. He had two main arguments for the decision, at least in his own head.
First: because his detectives, who were smart enough not to let their pride get in the way, got advice from Grayson anyway.
Second: because while David had been out on paternity leave, Gordon had discovered the nightmare that was trying to wrangle Dick Grayson, and he was not dealing with that again. David had somehow managed to do it, and Gordon was content to leave the job of wrangling Grayson in his more experienced hands.
If anyone else asked he would tell them that the F.B.I. wanted to talk to and deal with the detectives that had handled the gang case in Gotham and since that was Carter and Grayson he was just making things official.
All Gordon hoped was that, even with the added fuel, the media storm passed before he destroyed all his phones.
“Hey,” Barry raised his hands. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, I’m just saying it will take time to figure out.”
“We may not have time,” Bruce said. “The timeline could change at any point, and Dick could lose everything again.”
“I know,” Barry said. “I’m looking, and I will keep digging until I find something. I am doing everything I can, Bruce.”
“I know,” Bruce sighed. “He’s just, Barry, he’s already lived through so many, lost so much.”
“I know,” Barry, said his voice soft.
“I’m going to call in Constantine,” Bruce said. “He may be able to help.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Barry agreed. “There are a few other people I can think of that we should talk to.” Barry paused. “We should talk to Dick.”
“Barry,” Bruce started.
“Look Bruce I get it,” Barry interrupted, “You don’t want to give him false hope in case we don’t figure anything out, but you had a point. The timeline could shift anytime and he’ll be the only one to remember it. Even if we don’t solve the problem before the next shift we might make progress, progress that he might be able to use to solve it later. Even if we can’t make this his permanent home, we might be able to start him on the path of finding a permanent home somewhere else in some other time.”
“Okay,” Bruce said closing his eyes. “You’re right.”
“But,” Barry said putting his hand on Bruce’s shoulder, “We are going to find a solution.”
It was a testament to how troubled Bruce was that he didn’t shake off the touch.
Three weeks later…
Dick wasn’t answering his phone. It wasn’t just that Dick wasn’t answering his phone. Slade’s calls weren’t even going through, and Dick was never at his apartment anymore, which left Slade one way to contact him.
Slade knocked on the door. A moment later David Carter stood before him gun in hand. Slade wasn’t sure if it was because this was Gotham, and that was how he always answered the door or if the gun was meant for him. He was leaning toward the first, but he didn’t give David a chance to prove him wrong.
“I’m looking for Dick. He’s not answering his phone.”
David sighed. “His phone got destroyed today on patrol. He’s not here.”
“Do you know where he is?” Slade asked.
“No,” David said. “He was dealing with his phone, and considering who he is, I’m assuming that doesn’t mean just going to a phone store.”
Slade frowned trying to decide where to go next.
“He was going to come here after he’s done,” David said. “So, you might as well wait.”
Slade nodded. He was mildly surprised when David didn’t immediately close the door now that the conversation was over. Slade watched David’s face as he seemed to have some sort of battle with himself.
Deciding he didn’t care what it was David was fighting with himself about, Slade turned. He would find somewhere close by to wait.
David’s sigh had him turning back. David was pinching the bridge of his nose. “You might as well come in to wait. Dick should be here soon.”
Slade blinked. That was not what he had been expecting, but David stepped back holding the door open, and Slade stepped inside.
Abigail stood up from the couch as they entered the living room.
“He’s waiting for Dick,” David said.
“Oh,” Abigail was tense, but she still smiled at Slade as if she didn’t know he was the world’s deadliest mercenary. “Well, welcome, and in that case I should go make sure we’ll have enough for dinner.”
“One extra person won’t change anything,” Meredith said. “We made plenty.” But she was already following Abigail into the kitchen.
Slade didn’t get a chance to respond and tell them he wasn’t staying for dinner because the next thing he knew he was being attacked by a tiny six-year-old.
“Mr. Slade!” Emma yelled looking up from where she had her arms wrapped around his legs.
Slade glanced at David who had tensed and was clearly trying to figure out how he was going to deal with his daughter befriending a mercenary, before looking back down at the child grinning up at him.
“Miss Emma.” Gently, carefully, like she was a live bomb that would go off with one wrong move, Slade reached down and pattered Emma on the back. He was fully aware that he was more likely to survive a bomb going off than he was to survive Dick if he should hurt or upset this child.
Still grinning Emma bounced back a few steps. “Did you get the bunny? Do you like him? What did you name him? Does he make you feel better?”
“Peter.” It was the first name that came to mind. It worked right? There was some story with a rabbit named Peter.
Emma frowned and cocked her head.
Slade froze realizing whose name that had been. Nope, that was not what he had meant. He was not naming his rabbit after the kid. He did the only thing he could. “Peter, I mean Dick made sure I got it. It was a nice surprise.”
“Oh, so you like him? He makes you feel better?” Emma asked.
“Yes,” Slade said for lack of anything better.
Emma lit up. “So, what did you name him?
Slade scrambled for some name, any name. “Fredrick.” Is what finally came out of his mouth.
Thirty minutes later Dick arrived to find Slade sitting on the couch looking slightly panicked as Emma bounced on her knees next to him asking questions about Fredrick, his rabbit.
Two months later…
Slade moved down the hallway of the hotel. His potential client had the whole top floor to himself, so no one gave his armor a second glance. The door at the end of the hallway was opened for him, and Slade stepped into what appeared to be a sitting room barely giving the man a glance as he stepped back out closing the door behind him.
“Deathstroke.”
“Ra’s,” Slade said crossing the room, “Talia.”
“Deathstroke.” Talia tipped her head.
They all studied each other as Slade sat down across from them. Slade had worked with the League on occasions, but they were rare since the League tended to deal with their own contracts, and it had been a while.
Talia broke the silence. “You’ve been difficult to get ahold of.”
“I’ve been busy,” Slade said.
“Business has been good then?” Ra’s asked.
“Yes,” Slade said. “So, what do you have for me?”
“A contract,” Ra’s said. “A few years ago the League was attacked, and something was stolen from the League. It turned up in Gotham not long after, but there was damage done that prevented its retrieval. Now, however, I want it back. I believe The Shadow was responsible, but reliable information on him is scarce.”
Ra’s paused, but when Slade didn’t say anything he continued. “The contract is simple, kill The Shadow and retrieve Damian and Cassandra Wayne. I will send men with you, but I would like you to lead since you’ve been in Gotham recently.”
“Wayne?” Slade asked.
“Damian is my grandson,” Ra’s said. “Cassandra is a weapon of the League.”
“Damian wasn’t adopted,” Slade glanced at Talia before focusing back on Ra’s, “Which means you are aware of who Bruce is.”
“That is one reason I will send my men with you,” Ra’s said. “They will assist you in dealing with the Detective.”
“The contract is to kidnap two children one of whom is already League trained out from under the protection of Batman and The Shadow and also kill The Shadow,” Slade said.
“I am sure you are capable,” Talia said raising her eyebrows. “Especially with the aid of our assassins.”
“Will you take the contract?” Ra’s asked.
“No,” Slade said.
“No?” Ra’s frowned.
“You said reliable information on The Shadow is scarce,” Slade said. “Well, I have met him, and I will give you reliable information. You have a better chance of beating a hurricane, volcano, or nuclear bomb than you have of beating him. The Shadow took Cassandra and Damian from you. You are not getting them back. Be thankful he left enough for you to rebuild. Be thankful he let you keep your lives and walk away because if you don’t he will demolish you. I will not be a part of a suicide mission.”
“You seem certain of his capabilities,” Ra’s said. “Yet you survived an encounter with him.”
“The Shadow is not a killer,” Slade said.
“A weakness, which will be his downfall,” Talia said. “Our men will not hesitate to kill him.”
“No, it is not a weakness. It is a protection for us,” Slade said. “Your men are not capable of killing him. He is not a killer, but that does not mean he will not kill. Damian and Cassandra are his, and he will kill to protect them.”
“You are set on your refusal?” Ra’s asked.
“Yes,” Slade said.
Ra’s nodded. “Very well.”
Slade rose. Opening the door, he paused and looked back. “Ra’s, if you choose to go to war against The Shadow I will be there, but I will be with him, and when he comes for your head I will make sure it is my sword that ends you. The Shadow is not a killer, and I will not risk him becoming one because if he does, he may decide I’m too large a threat and finish me next. Stay away from The Shadow. Stay away from Gotham. Stay away from the Waynes. The Shadow is a nuclear bomb. Do not set him off or you will destroy all of us.”
Slade left the building mind filled with plans for dealing with the League in Gotham.
He knew Ra’s too well to believe he would back down just because of Slade’s warning.
He could run--try to avoid the whole thing, but distance wouldn’t protect him if Dick’s wrath was awakened. If he was honest, he wasn’t really worried about Dick killing him, not because of Ra’s at least. If he was honest, he didn’t want the League in Gotham threatening the Waynes or Carters.
Dick had protected Slade’s family when he told Slade about H.I.V.E. He hadn’t helped Slade take them down other than providing more information, but Slade knew he would have if Slade had asked. He didn’t ask because he wasn’t leaving any of H.I.V.E. alive.
The League wouldn’t beat Dick, but Dick couldn’t be everywhere at once. He had protected Slade’s family, and Slade was not one to allow himself to remain indebted to someone.
If he was honest, it didn’t even have to do with repaying a debt. Dick allowed Slade to save his son. He had given Slade a second chance at being a father to Grant and Joseph, and even though part of Slade wanted to walk away again, Dick was there pestering him refusing to let him. Dick was there reminding him that his walking away is what led to Grant running to H.I.V.E. Dick was there hissing at him that his sons didn’t need a soldier or a mercenary. They needed a father and he better shape up.
Dick was also the reason he kept ending up at the Carters’ and the Waynes’ and each time he found himself watching Bruce and David trying to figure out what they knew that he didn’t, trying to figure out how to keep his son from getting himself killed in some other way.
Part of him seethed at the fact that Dick was making him soft, but that part was getting smaller and smaller and easier for him to ignore. He had to ignore it because every time he became the jungle gym to a tiny six-year-old who was going to give her parents a heart attack because she absolutely did not see the danger in front of her, he was reminded that Dick would kill him for hurting her. Every time the voice and seething anger got softer and he minded less the constant questions about his rabbit and his eye-patch and what his favorite dessert was.
Slade still didn’t know how to be a father, but he was starting to realize that maybe he had missed out on something special. He hadn’t wanted to give up his job because he loved the thrill. He hadn’t wanted to give up the challenge, but he was realizing that when he had walked away from his boys he had taken the easier way out, he had given up the greater challenge.
He needed to call Dick. They needed plans.
One month later…
Glancing up as he ended the call, Bruce found a tentative smile on Dick’s face.
“They’re making breakthroughs?” Dick asked.
“That’s what it sounds like,” Bruce said. “Not with a lot of the talons, but a few seem to be moving forward.”
“They’ve been weapons a long time and there are people who say it’s impossible for them to be anything else,” Dick said. “But this is a start.”
“Healing is a long road and there are always people who say it’s impossible,” Bruce said. “And it is if never given time and a chance.”
“Yeah,” Dick agreed. His smile widening, he tipped his head toward the door. “The Carters are here.”
A moment later yelling and the sound of running footsteps reached their ears as the kids raced to reach the door.
“We better go make sure they don’t get trampled,” Bruce said putting his arm around Dick’s shoulders as they walked toward the entrance.
Dick leaned into his dad’s hold. Both of his families were together and Dick felt content.
The residents of Gotham embraced Nightwing as another of their protectors, the Shadow slipping back into myth.
The criminals of Gotham learned to despise Nightwing, but they didn’t fear him like the Bat. They saw his smile and heard his laugh, and they missed the flash of his teeth.
Still on the occasions when Robin, Black Bat, Batgirl, or even Batman got hurt the rumors of The Shadow would be whispered again.
Other times the rumors would start without any discernible cause.
The rumors were always whispered quietly and in fear, like speaking too loud would awaken The Shadow, and slowly, just as quietly, another rumor joined those of The Shadow. A rumor whispered just as quietly, with just as much fear, but more often laughed at. The rumor that Nightwing was the most terrifying and dangerous of the Bats.
Those who had only seen the smile and not the teeth laughed when they heard the rumors, but for those who had felt the teeth, the rumors were not a joke, but a warning.
Nightwing might smile, but there was a predator underneath the mask.