it's late, I know, oh well. The school term started up again so y'know how it be.

This is a fanfic of ForeverWhelmed's fic Dia a Hero, it's not on wattpad, it's on AO3 . I have kind of written it so it's understandable without reading the fic but you should definitely read it. like for sure. it's amazing. do it.

If you wanna read this first and don't care about spoilers, Slade basically black mailed Dick into being his apprentice, he had a garage in Gotham to use as a cover, and Bruce adopted Jason, Tim, Steph and Cass while Dick was still 13.

Title is from the lyrics of Imagine Dragons 'I'll Make It Up Yo You.'

Whumptober 2021- day five
I've got red in my ledger
betrayal, misunderstandings, broken nose

Slade Wilson is dead and Dick Grayson has rebuilt his life.
Except someone is about to drag him back in.

"I'm a little lost," Dick said, putting on an awkward smile, "whereabouts is historical fiction?"

Jason Todd was sitting at the desk, and Dick felt that same familiar gut-punching feeling of guilt and shame as he made eye contact. A spike of fear accompanied the emotions, but Jason's expression didn't shift to familiarity as he looked Dick up and down. He rose an unimpressed eyebrow and pointed in a vague direction.

"down there, behind science fiction, it's in the corner."

"Right," Dick said, fighting the closing up of his throat, "thanks."

He went down to the section, but made a beeline for the bathroom afterwards. His hands were shaking and he felt faint.

He checked his hair in the mirror, the strands all died perfectly to a natural brown, and he stared at the green contacts in his eyes. He looked himself over, once, twice, thrice, making sure he looked as little like his thirteen year old self as possible.

Jason hadn't recognised him, everything was okay.

Jason hadn't recognised him, because he was a shadow of who he used to be.

He got a hold of himself, sighing as he went back into the library. He picked out a book that looked vaguely interesting and headed for the counter. Maybe he shouldn't interact with Jason again, but he wanted the excuse to come back.

He hadn't seen his family in years- just snippets on the news, or the vague moment in the field. Slade kept them far apart.

He shuddered, then forced the memories to stay back. he borrowed the book, aching with the need to talk to Jason. To grab him by the shoulders and tell him everything.

But he couldn't. he shouldn't. his family believed he had died with Slade and that's how it needed to stay. They didn't need him back, making everything complicated, and they definitely didn't want him back, after the person Slade turned him into.

But this he could allow himself. Small moments of weakness. Smiling as he wished Jason a good day- which consisted of volunteering at the library, working at the bakery two blocks away, and then suiting up for the usual nightly patrol.

(and yes, maybe Dick had allowed himself the small moment of weakness to fly through the Gotham streets again, safely hidden in the shadows, and watch his family do what they did best. Just once.)

But Dick had to leave. He'd created a small false identity, enough to last him a few months in Gotham as he tried to get a grip on himself. Slade was gone, and Dick had nothing to stop him from running home except all the shame and guilt and fear bubbling up inside him. But he couldn't stay in the city. He couldn't, he shouldn't, he wouldn't.

At the end of the month he needed to find somewhere else, he needed to figure out what to do with himself.

"Three bases, one month," Barbara said, pulling up the news reports, the photos and the files, "and leaks all over the place. Names, dates, contracts, aliases, everything."

Bruce sighed, looking at it all as it took up his screens, "one month."

"one month," Barbara echoed.

"we can assume that it's the same person responsible for Wilson's death."

"safely."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. Barbara watched in silence.

"I think..." she started, voice small, "that this is something we let go."

"we can't. anyone capable of this-"

"would have already made a move on us if they wanted to," Barbara said, "and even if we wanted to follow this, there's no trail. I've checked everything, looked everywhere. Whoever is behind this seems as much a ghost as Wilson is."

Silence reigned once more, until Bruce looked back up at the screen with a blank look.

"and Renegade?"

Barbara swallowed, looking away, "no signs."

"no body?"

"no. signs."

Bruce let out a deep breath, exhaling everything left in him, "okay," he said, quietly, "good night."

"Bruce-"

"good night."

Barbara pursed her lips, but nodded with a sad smile closer to a grimace, "good night."

Selina materialised from the shadows she'd been hiding in. she sat in the chair next to him, waiting.

"I have to let it go."

"you do."

"I don't think I can," Bruce said, eyeing the place on the screen that used to be filled with Barbara's data, "after all these years he's just gone, and we don't even know why, or how."

Selina rubbed soothing circles into his hand, content to sit and let Bruce get it all out. She felt the same as he did, there was nothing she could say that wouldn't fall on deaf ears.

"I didn't even get to see him again." Bruce screwed his eyes shut, drooping his head into his free hand, "I only ever got glimpses, fleeting moments where I saw him in the field- faceless and..."

After that the words didn't matter, only the grief.

Dick didn't get far from Gotham.

Not for lack of trying, of course. He'd ripped Slade's empire to shreds, and some of that work he'd had to do outside the states after his one month of weakness as he cemented his family's faces into his mind's eye once more. But within six months of freedom from Slade's oppressive control he was back in the united states and setting up a life barely two hours from Gotham.

It's not like he didn't know how. Birth certificate, kindergarten, a few fake medical records caused by childhood rambunctiousness, a primary school, middle school, several social media sites, a drivers license, photoshopped photos in school magazines, a passport, a family. It racked up into days of work but it was worth it because Dick's new life needed to be foolproof. One misstep and he'd have the CIA on his back. god knew since Slade's death they'd have to have been on his trail.

That was the other thing that needed faking. He couldn't manage a body, and he couldn't make it look like he'd died with Slade. Enough research and anyone could figure out Slade's mission was a solo one.

But some explosions, destroyed gear, fake accounts, fake transactions, and he could make it look like he'd been on the run for a good week or so after Slade's death. And then a car wreck, a few other bits and pieces, and a complete mess left a trail that gave only one sane conclusion and it was dead.

By now there'd be a file with his name on it, and it would have big bold letters in red on it that said DECEASED.

It was better that way.

Being in Bludhaven was better that way, too. He told himself it was because he could keep an eye on his family, not because he couldn't stay away from them. He told himself it was because the city was as bad as Gotham, not because it was closest.

It was okay, he'd done the lying to himself charade before. This was no different.

He had been looking for a job for a good while once he'd ended up back there, trying to find something that wouldn't ask too many questions but also would give him enough money to support himself without getting on less than desirable radars. He didn't want trouble with mobs, not yet.

Not yet. But soon. He had a lot of blood on his hands, he needed to make up for that. And a long time ago, Slade had offered to leave him alone if he put everything behind him- he couldn't do it then, he couldn't do it now. He knew too much, was capable of too much, he couldn't let it go to waste. He was highly trained and pumped up with a military enhancement serum, he couldn't live in a city of corruption and turn a blind eye to those who'd benefit from his help.

So a good job- one that didn't ask questions and didn't require night hours.

He'd almost felt his heart leap into his throat as he recognised a name in the paper.

Charlie Pratt was looking for employees at her garage. He'd never really had a chance to get to know Charlie past surface level conversation when he was a kid. Slade usually wanted him downstairs ready for training as soon as possible. But she was nice, and a strong person who didn't take bullshit, but most importantly her's would be the kind of business that would accept his sad eyes and down-on-his-luck story.

It felt a bit poetic, that after Slade died he'd end up working at a garage owned by one of the people he'd used for his charade when he'd been black mailing Dick. Just like it was poetic that all that money he'd had lying around from killing people was being put back into charities and international aid (and a portion was sitting in one of Dick's new accounts, in case of emergencies. He wasn't overly fond of using Slade's blood money for himself, but he needed something to get on his feet while he set himself up).

Charlie was happy to take on Alex Collins, and Dick was happy to work on cars all day if it meant he could afford his nightly escapades in Bludhaven without using Slade's murder money.

After that it was as smooth as sailing could be in his circumstance.

For a while, at least.

"Where the hell is Todd?!"

"I can't get a hold of him-"

"Wasn't S his buddy?" Red Robin asked over the commlink, feet pounding into the rooftop, breath heaving in and out fast enough that his lungs were beginning to sting, "S? Spoiler, come in!"

"I can't get a hold of Spoiler either!" Oracle yelled, the radios filled with her frantic voice, "Robin-"

"I've been running through Hood and Spoiler's part of the city for thirty minutes; I can't find them."

Tim skidded to a stop metres before the edge of the roof, hands falling to his knees as he held in the need to throw up. His head pounded, almost too loud for him to hear his family in his ear, and his heart thudded against his chest like it was banging on a door to be let out.

"Batman," He croaked into his radio, "I think I lost," he heaved a breath in and out, "my tail..."

"Good, take a breather. When you're ready, circle back, I've just finished putting away Riddler's goons and Batgirl is tying Nigma up."

"Okay- breather," he gulped air in, limbs feeling numb and prickly. He hadn't felt like this since his early days in training and he didn't miss it, exhaustion was making his vision spot, "breathing sounds nice."

"and R-"

The commlink filled with static.

Tim whipped his head up, his stomach cramping as he stood straight. He looked around him, panic setting in, he was in no shape for a fight with anyone dangerous enough to be able to jam their comms.

He spotted a shadow in his peripheral vision, and then it came barreling into him. He could barely dodge the first hit let alone the second, and he was unconscious soon after.

Tim woke up to someone poking him.

He grumbled, feeling all his muscles ache as he came back to awareness. He must have really overexerted himself to earn the burning in his everything that he was currently experiencing.

The poking started again, this time accompanied by a quietly hissed, "oi! Nerd-bird brain, wake up!"

Tim flinched away from the thing- not a hand? It felt like a boot?- that was poking him, groaning as he pushed his face into his pillow-

Not his pillow. A cement floor. A cold, hard, cement floor. His eyes shot open and he jerked in surprise as he took in a dark room. there was an old oil lamp sitting on the ground, the only source of light at the moment, and the shadows slunk in the background like writhing shapes of danger, skulking beasts hiding the rest of the room from Tim's view.

He craned his neck, trying to sit up but failing miserably when his abs started screaming at him. His arms were chained behind his back and the right side of his but felt numb from lying on unforgiving cement for who knew how long. He stretched his legs, shaking as he rolled his neck, and grunted with the effort it took to sit up. Once he did so he found Red Hood and Spoiler watching him with smirks.

Tim huffed a breath, trying to get the strands of hair freeing themselves from his half-cowl to get out of his eyes. He must have been wearing it for a while if his hair was escaping.

"not a word," he said to his two siblings.

"you haven't got much to persuade with," Spoiler said, her hood and scarf pooling around her neck, leaving her entire face visible. There was dried mud caked to the left side of her face and her hair was full of it as well.

"I-" Tim scrunched up his nose and scowled, "shut up."

Steph stuck her tongue out, Tim rolled his eyes, Jason shifted his weight so he could be more comfortable.

"Okay, so pleasantries aside," Tim said, "what the fuck is going on?"

"oh, we've been kidnapped," Steph said.

"I can see that," Tim said.

Jason snorted, "we don't know much more than you. We woke up about an hour ago. Cuffs won't come off no matter what we try, weapons and gear is gone, the room is impossible to see once you leave the light and we think we found a door but not only is it locked but we can't even find where the lock is."

"Oh," Tim sighed, "lovely."

"so yeah, we figured we'd wait till you woke up and maybe you'd know something."

"I know that everyone's pissed you couldn't do your parts for the Arkham breakout."

"there's a breakout?"

"Oh yeah," Steph said, turning to Jason, "That's why I went to yours. You weren't answering and the city was erupting into chaos. Then I got kidnapped."

Jason glared at the oil lamp as if it had personally offended him, "this isn't good."

"no duh," Tim said, completely dead pan, "plan?"

"Batman?" Steph asked, shrugging with her hands as if to say 'oops? I haven't thought of one yet'.

Tim opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a loud creak. It was worse than a door that needed its hinges oiled, it clanked and clunked and scraped, the metal sounding almost like it was being torn apart. Either that was a bad sign or this place was really old and really abandoned.

The light from the door was minimal, just enough for them to make out a silhouette. Jason lurched to his feet first, and therefore was the first to fall, spasming and shaking, when Tim and Steph flinched and moved to help they joined him. Tim was no stranger to electricity but that didn't mean was able to stop his muscles from seizing up as the silhouette dragged another body in and dumped it within the perimeter of the oil lamp's light.

The door clanked and clunked and scraped and then it was closed again and the three conscious bats sighed in relief as they all pulled their wits back together enough that they could breathe and speak and sit up.

Their new fellow inmate was none other than Damian, stripped of weapons but otherwise seemingly fine aside from the bruise on his jaw and the cut on his lip.

Tim sighed, "this isn't good."

"no duh."

"shut up Jason."

"are you sure this is the place?" Cass asked, standing behind him like he was a shield.

Bruce clenched his jaw, hands in tight fists, as he glared at the building in front of him.

It was still boarded up, but otherwise it was almost unrecognisable. One half of it had been sold off, cut away from the original building and leased to a transport company. The other half was now covered in graffiti, caution tape waved in a few of the windows and padlocks hung from every possible entrance.

"This is the place," Bruce answered.

Whoever had kidnapped his kids had already made a dangerous move, but bringing Bruce here? They were effectively signing their life away to a permanent place in prison.

He hadn't returned to Harris auto repair since the day he, Clark and Diana had investigated it from top to bottom. Part of him thought he might walk down there and find another piece of taunting from Slade Wilson. More photos of the son taken from him being tormented and twisted into someone he didn't want to be, more proof he'd failed a long time ago.

Part of him had too many theories about what it meant that the trail lead here. He felt sick, thinking of all the possible reasons, the people who knew about this place, the ways it could be used against him, the reason it all came down to here.

He took a breath in, and exhaled, and he forced himself to walk towards the door.

Picking the lock was simple for him. He and Cass walked into the building to find it covered in dust, every surface absolutely caked in it, and largely undisturbed. It seemed no one had had luck breaking in, that or they'd had some kind of sixth sense that told them to stay away.

Bruce walked to the office, swinging the door open with one smooth move, and found the same hidden stairway behind the supposed wardrobe door. Memories were begging to be let out, to flood in front of his eyes and overwhelm him, but he shut the lid on their box and stuffed them down where they should be.

He couldn't think about the son he'd lost when he had to worry about the children he could still save.

Diana had kicked down the heavy duty passcode protected door when they came here all those years ago, and it had not been replaced. Bruce knew not to take turns without thought. After he, Clark and Diana had been lead in circles by Wilson's strange architectural design he'd figured out the way the rooms worked. He walked to the middle of the hallway, straining his ears. He and Cass stood back-to-back, tense and still in the darkness.

"Don't make me find you," Bruce said into the darkness, voice pitched low and threatening, "you've already pissed me off enough, make this easier on yourself."

"So prideful, Wayne," drawled a voice, and Bruce whirled to see a strangely shaped shadow at the entrance to the hallway, "and emotional. What weakness. It makes this so easy."

Everything began to swim, his vision doubled and blurred, and he realised the strange shape to the shadow was a gas mask.

Cass was closest the shadow and tried to rush forward and throw a punch, to no avail, and the two slumped unconscious in the hallway without their enemy having to lift a finger in offense at all.

The sound of machinery was ever-present, droning in the background till it ceased to exist in the front of your mind. Dick had just finished for the day and was now wiping his hands as best he could, thinking about things that needed doing before he started his nightly patrol.

"Oi! Alex!"

Dick looked up to where Charlie was leaning into the building from the office.

"Someone's here to see you," she called out, jerking a hand to the front of the building.

He followed her into the office and then went through the door to the foyer. He was expecting a past customer coming in to rant and rave about whatever he'd fixed for their vehicle. That's not who it was.

In the foyer was a woman in a wheelchair, red hair tied back in a bun held by hundreds of pins and clips. Standing by her side was a teenaged boy in street clothes and bright yellow sunglasses.

Barbara looked up at him, smiling as they made eye contact. She looked completely calm, not at all like Dick, who was beginning to panic as he stood frozen, staring at her.

"Hi," she said, "been a while."

Dick floundered for words, eyes glancing to the door.

"we need to talk," Barbara said, catching the movement of his eyes, "we need your help."

Dick forced his body to obey him, swallowing down the panic before he said, "with the Arkham breakout?"

"No," Barbara said, and she raised a manilla folder from her lap that Dick hadn't noticed before then, "something worse."

Dick was still panicking, and he stood in shocked silence for a moment more. The boy at Barbara's side said, "our family is in danger, if you were ging to reveal yourself to the rest of them now would be the time."

"how did you..." Dick trailed off, looking between them, "I covered every trail-"

"I got lucky," Barbara said with a grimace-smile and a shrug, "you were in Gotham. I didn't see you at all except once, just by chance, you were in view of one of the camera's Tim's been setting up to cover my blind spots in the city."

"who else knows?"

"Just me and Duke," she said, then gestured to the boy, "this is Duke by the way, he's your brother."

"I'm not- he's-" Dick's head swam and he felt the need to run all over again. His mind was stuck on the words 'he's your brother'.

Just like that? almost ten years but now Barbara was here and just like that, he was apart of the family again? No. she mustn't know everything, there must be things she was missing.

Duke didn't have his problem, though. At Barbara's introduction he stepped closer to Dick and held a hand out, "it's nice to finally meet you."

Dick blinked at his outstretched hand. His heart was twisting on itself. He numbly shook Duke's hand.

"We need your help, Dick," Barbara said, keeping her voice quiet, "I understand why you've stayed away, but I think this may get worse the longer you stay out of it."

Dick narrowed his eyes, frowning at the folder in her hands.

"Okay," he said, bracing himself for the strain this would take on him, "okay. Where do you want to go?"

The lights came on without warning.

"I found the lights!" Tim announced triumphantly.

"still working on the door, B?" Jason drawled.

"still working on your handcuffs, Jason?"

"what? Not at all, slipped 'em ages ago, they're just good bracelets."

"are they terrible comfortable?" Stephanie asked.

"I think everyone will be wearing them in the future."

Steph snorted, "you wish."

Between the laughs Tim slipped in, "bold of you to assume he'd be getting off on other wearing handcuffs when he's the one wearing them himself."

Jason went dead pan as his siblings laughed around him.

"we've been kidnapped by an unknown new player," Damian said, the only one who wasn't laughing, "and you're making sex jokes."

"it's called coping, bestie," Stephanie said with a wink.

The door started its usual clanging and clunking routine, and Bruce moved backwards several feet to give it room to open.

the lights were still on, and instead of a silhouette they came face to face with a man. He was tall, well built, with black hair and pale skin. He was wearing tactical gear, with swords and knives and a pistol in a holster on his hip.

Bruce glared at him, the family glared at him, it was like the entire room was filled with seething hatred and it was all pointed at the man in front of them.

"who the hell are you?" Jason hissed, pushing himself to his feet awkwardly, wrists still cuffed together in front of him.

The stranger chuckled darkly, "that doesn't matter. This isn't about you."

Cass gasped and put her hands over Steph's ears while Tim said, "don't hurt our egos like that."

"bringing us here was a big mistake on your part," Bruce said.

"Like I said, Wayne, this isn't about you."

"Then who's it about?" Tim asked.

A voice cut in before Tim got an answer, with a quick and sharp word, "Grant."

Everyone in the room froze, including the stranger standing in the large doorway.

The stranger smirked, looking at everyone else with triumph, he turned and stepped out of the threshold so that he wasn't taking up as much space in the doorway.

Outside the large room was a new person, standing in the hallway, in a suit they all recognised. It was Nightwing, the hero who'd set up shop in Bludhaven, but without a mask they could see his entire face and his bright blue eyes.

"end this now," said the newcomer, the newcomer that looked painfully familiar, "no one has to get hurt, Grant."

"except you."

"what the hell is going on?" Damian hissed.

Grant grinned, "it's a family reunion, kiddo."

Bruce had been frozen since he'd looked at the person standing in the doorway, words finally managed to get out and all he had to say was, "Robin."

"what?" Damian asked, waiting for his father to say more, but Bruce wasn't talking to Damian.

Grant laughed darkly, a sadistic twist to his mouth.

"That's a no to the easy way, then?" Dick asked, "shame. I'd thought someone who'd already died once might have a better sense of survival."

"you won't kill me-"

"No," Dick shrugged, "but this is gonna sting."

Grant blinked, "what-"

The lights went out once more, the door began to beep, and then Grant yelped as he was yanked out of the room. the door clunked and clanged shut again, but the dark soon disappeared as a burst of sunshine filled the room.

"secret exit's this way guys!" Called Duke, standing in a doorway that Bruce swore hadn't been there a few seconds before, "we gotta get out before Grant realises this is a distraction."

"so," Dick huffed a breath, letting Grant realise that he'd been herded out of the base and back up into the fake garage, "not dead then?"

"surprised?"

"not really," Dick said, squaring his stance, "seen it before."

Grant huffed, "oh, you're just so unruffled, so fucking unaffected, did you see it coming, is that what it is?"

Dick raised an eyebrow, "I'm sensing a lot of aggression here."

Grant scowled, throwing himself back into the fight.

"this isn't about them," Dick said, letting Grant tire himself out as he fought. He seemed a very skilled fighter, but a little rusty- perhaps because he'd been dead- and he fought like a boxer, a lot of punching, not much variation to his moves and a lack of style.

And it seemed that Dick was just better than him, objectively speaking.

"you were trying to draw me in," Dick said, "why?"

Grant dodged a punch at the last second and wheeled backwards, scowling and clenching his fists, "why? Why? Why would I want to meet my fucking replacement? The perfect version my father made that was so much better than me?"

Dick blinked, "excuse me?"

Grant threw a punch while Dick was confused, and he dodged it at the last second, "Do you know what I had to do to get his attention?" he was throwing hits as if he were a tantrumming child, all emotion and yelling, heat but no fire, "how much it took to for him to spend time with me? To care? But no, as soon as I'm gone he gets a new model! A perfect apprentice, and he left everything to you!"

Dick's own anger boiled over and he whacked Dick across the face especially hard, "you think I wanted it?"

Grant held a hand to his face as he stumbled. When he took his hand away it was smudged with red, and so was his top lip, but the rage only heightened and he flung himself at Dick again.

"You're an ungrateful piece of shit!" Grant hissed, "and you ruined everything my father made!"

Dick blocked several hits, twisting away and then using Grant's momentum in his next hit to throw him into the cement.

Grant sat up, the blood from his nose had gotten into his mouth and is gear was messed up and torn, "I'm going to kill you," he said, standing slowly and drawing one of the swords on his back.

"all you're going to achieve here is getting yourself thrown in jail," Dick said, "stand down, let's talk about this, you don't understand-"

Grant just yelled in rage and swung forwards.

"We have to go back-"

"no."

"he'll need backup."

"and I owe him a punch to the face."

"and I deserve to put mud in his hair!"

"we can't leave some random stranger to deal with him-"

"shut it!"

The family turned to gape at Barbara, sitting in front of her computer. The sun was beginning to creep towards the horizon and the city was waking up. Cars rushed around down below, barely audible from the top of the bell tower.

"this isn't about us, it never was," Babs said, "and it's not our place to win this fight."

The protests were stopped before they started, as a bang came from one of the tower's balconies.

It was Grant, tied up and unconscious.

"okay," Jason said, "so the fight's done?" he turned to Barbara and Duke, "where is he?"

"what?"

"Dick. You knew he was alive all along and you knew where to find him, so where is he?"

Barbara pursed her lips and turned away.

"don't you dare-"

"Bruce will find him," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "he's probably packing up everything he has and getting ready to run."

"well then, B, you better get-" Jason turned to find the room empty of Batman, "going."