Damian stared at the cold silence in the cave, only slightly curious as to where all the harsh feelings had come from. He knew that the family didn't fully agree with killing, but could they really feel such remorse for freeing society from such terrible criminals? In Damian's mind, it didn't make sense. But he could only suppose that if one grew up as spoiled and naive as all his brothers and sisters, they would never agree with such terms.

Although Brown and Gordon seemed slightly accepting of the new decisions the Lords have made, and Cassi not directly agreeing, but yet not disagreeing as well, the glares that Tim and Dick sent in the way of Batman when he had his back turned made it obvious that they loathed their new dictators. Damian didn't quite understand, because the only real way to lead a nation was with a strong hand. The lack of that in the past was the only reason their "United States of America" had drowned so deep in their own waters in the first place.

Batman and the League- or Lords as they're calling themselves now, are doing fine work. Damian walked over to his father. Despite all the changes, though, Damian had to admit that his Father still spent a lot of time on front of the bat-computer. Damian's presence alone was enough to call his Father's attention, and Damian could hear the simple grunt to show that the older of the two was listening. Damian stayed silent for a couple of seconds before asking, "What are you doing?"

Bruce's sigh was abnormally loud. "A theory that I've been playing with. Multiverse. It's not anything new."

Damian nodded slowly, looking at the notes his father's been hunched over for hours. Yes, Damian agreed. There was nothing new about this Multiverse. The idea had no interest to him. If his father found some use for it, he'll know about it soon enough. At that, he turned around, dangerously eyeing Tim and Dick, and went upstairs to feed his pets.

"What are you making?"

Stephanie watched as Bruce sighed (He always seemed to be doing that) and climbed down the ladder, wiping his oily hands on a cloth. There was a vague skeleton of some kind of machine, almost like a round doorway of some sort. She could see loose wires and spare parts scattered over the floor, although she was sure each one had a reason for being where it was. The only kind of answer he gave her was, "Why are you up?"

"Nightmares," was the only thing that Stephanie said. She knew that Bruce wanted her to go to bed, but it seemed like she was getting more and more unpleasant dreams as the days went on. "What are you making?" She walked toward the thin oddity, reaching her hand out. She was surprised when Bruce did nothing to stop her. Often her open and much-too-touchy personality clashed badly with Bruce's everything-belongs-to-me one but she let her fingers slide over the cool metal, enjoying Bruce's silence.

Bruce sighed. "Go to bed," he said. "It's not anything new."

Stephanie froze, turning around. "Okay." That was the best answer she was going to get, and she knew that.

The next day, there was no evidence that Bruce had ever been working on anything. Stephanie wondered if Bruce's hands were stained from oil, because he kept his gloves on the whole day. She didn't ask, nor did she mention it, but she was still curious, though. And she looked for it. It was never found.

The light from the computer screen was the only thing that lit up Batman's unmasked face in the Bat-cave as the changing images splashed different colors on his skin. The entrance to the cave was locked, a precaution that he had taken on months ago after one incident, and he sat there alone whispering to himself, "please, please, please, please..."

Every day he could feel the pressure threatening to crush him. To squeeze him against the ground until he was an unrecognizable splatter of blood and bone on the floor. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to know that somewhere, maybe his little Bird was alive and happy. It took so long to build this machine- this mirror to show him other worlds, but he had done it. No, he couldn't travel- not yet - but he could see. That was good enough.

His silent plea only reached his ears, and he knew that it would only ever land on his ears, but if he had believed in God, he would have supposed that he might have heard too. After so many night of flipping through images, videos, of the other world, because there were so many- too many- he saw a flash of red. It was so familiar, and Bruce froze, staring at the video, Just watching as Jason ordered his men around for the next shipment of whatever drug was coming in. The helmet had made the Flash, but it was tucked under his arm, just like he always had it here, in this world. His hair was Black though. That didn't fool Bruce though. he could see the Strawberry-blond roots near his scalp, and he remembered how his Jason use to do that, too.

For the first time in a while, Bruce wanted to cry. And he did. Every night, he watched this new Jason. Months passed, where every night he would go to the cave and Just observe this Jason before it occurred to him that he could look for others. The Flash. His parents. Selena. It took longer to stop watching Jason to actually do just that.