"Damn it Dick! Get your feathered ass off the ground already and stop pushing this depressive act! I didn't sacrifice all my stuff just so you could starve yourself to death now! Come...on...out...ALREADY!"

Roughly and with all his strength, the annoyed Outlaw tugged at the unyielding wings that held their wearer tightly locked beneath them.

Jason had given him everything the Manor's kitchen had to offer. From poultry to beef, from eggs to energy bars.

But this stubborn mourner spurned all the food that usually gave him so much pleasure. Damn! He wasn't even interested in tobacco. And Jason was getting pretty annoyed by this behavior!

So he pulled and pushed at him, aiming at least to finally get to see Dick for once. Which, of course, didn't work out.

"Jason, it's no use. He's easily a hundred times stronger than you. If he doesn't want to come out, your tugging around won't change that either."

Tim sat a few feet from the cage on a large metal box in which the many spare batarangs were stored for their use. Leaning next to him were his crutches and in front of him a hologram that, in addition to his analysis, showed Bruce's current location in a separate window.

Grumbling at the failure to finally get Dick to touch a crumb of food, Jason stepped out of the cage and dropped down beside the teenager, arms folded in annoyance as he continued to complain about their current problem:

"This depressive behavior of the turkey is really starting to get on my nerves! Now I've decided to move back into this damn house for him, and all we've accomplished are regressions. Just the fact that I get to see Bruce every day now makes me bile up to my neck. Speaking of which, is he still distracted?"

A quick glance at the screen followed before Tim just gestured in confirmation:

"Aside from the fact that he's finished his morning coffee by now, he still continues to sit by Damian's bedside. I assume that the fact that Damian has developed a fever is keeping him there. Even though it sound a little macabre, thanks to him we should be undisturbed for now."

Jason groaned in exasperation. It was predictable that the little one in his weakened condition would not be able to avoid a fever. Although they had always made sure that everything was neatly disinfected, germs could not be completely eliminated in the end. So far, however, his fever was not too bad. Hopefully it stayed that way.

"Any other ideas on how we can motivate Dick?"

Tim snapped Jason out of his thoughts again and the Outlaw pivoted in his musings. Without much further puzzling out the individual sparks of thought, he quickly answered unmotivated:

"We could light him on fire."

"What?!"

"Oh man that was just a joke. He wouldn't care anyway. He'd probably be more than happy about the warmth."

Tim let out a long sigh. Why did Jason, of all people, have to be the person with whom he somehow had to find solutions to their many problems? His specialty involved brute force rather than constructive and intelligent input into planning how to solve the problems. But they had to do something.

The teen brushed the strain off his face after that thought before drawing his own conclusions:

"We need to force Dick out of his state somehow. Maybe we can get his attention for something or provoke him with stimuli like smells. But since he won't even respond to tobacco, I'm not sure what we should use to accomplish that. Maybe ammonia? Sulfur? Whereby... "

Tim mumbled lost in thought, while Jason could only roll his eyes. Once the Brain was fired up, Timmy was running a rendezvous with it where there was no room for third parties. Seriously, he was worse than a newly in love couple at the schoolyard, not even aware of all the stares.

So Jason made the best of it. He folded his arms behind his head and leaned against the closet they were sitting in front of as he went back to his own thoughts. Pondering, the Outlaw let Tim's words run through his mind again.

Tease him? Provoke him? Normally Jason was a specialist in that. He had done more than enough pissing people off in the past. But how could he do that with someone who even enjoyed it when he was being used as a target? Back when he was alone with Dick in Tim's apartment, this turkey thought his shots at him were just a fun game.

He could shoot at him again, but that is unlikely to arouse his play instinct in this depressed phase. Probably it wouldn't even make him itch.

God, if the whole thing continued, he would bang his head against the wall by next week at the latest, until it made these walls more bearable. Maybe then, with his own two horns, Dick would at least give him a look.

...

...Hm...bang...

...

...Wait...

Suddenly, a flash of inspiration ran through Jason. Completely euphoric, he addressed his seatmate with two words:

"Hit me!"

Tim was torn out of his thoughts and at first squealed in fright. He grabbed his chest as his heart pumped to its maximum capacity at the shock before his surprised gaze wandered to Jason. Confused, Tim finally just asked:

"Uh...What?"

"Hit me. And really hard!"

"No! What the? Why should I?"

The teenager just looked at his counterpart as if his last brain cells just went off and protested against this nonsensical plan. But Jason left no room for that and explained his basic thought behind it:

"When Damian showed up at my place back then, I was pretty pissed off and not exactly squeamish with him as a result. To be honest, I grabbed him by the neck and pushed him against the wall. Dick then snapped and tried to kill me."

He could see it working behind Tim's temples, but that idea was quickly declared short of stupid. He couldn't take anything from it, so he just gave Jason an annoyed look:

"And that's why you want me to hit you? Glorious idea Jason. Point one, I don't want to hit you and it probably would only reopen the wound on your eye. And point two, even if it does work, is Dick going to try to stab me or what?!"

"Oh he can't get to you anyway. He's in a cage he can't get out of. But you may be right about point one. Change of plans."

With that, a powerful punch found its way into Tim's face, hurling the surprised teenager off the box. Taken completely by surprise, Tim couldn't help but grab his nose in disbelief and pain before snorting angrily as he lay on the ground:

"Ouch! Arg...are you insane?"

Jason, on the other hand, just looked at Dick. Waited to see what the latter did. But the only reaction he got was a simple ruffle of feathers.

For him, however, the glass was still half full:

"Well, I can't say that it didn't help at all. At least he finally showed some sort of reaction. But maybe we are no longer a threat to each other."

Tim, on the other hand, couldn't get anything out of it and instead got up on his healthy knee. Only his face hurt. That this clumsy Babar couldn't even discuss something like that, let alone announce it. He was so pissed always taking the role of his punchbag!

"Argh...shit...then jump off the roof if you want a real threat asshole! I still need my face you know!"

"I'm not tired of life after all! But apparently again arrived at the asshole. I thought we were past that."

That's enough! Angrily, Tim jerked his finger up to give his next words more emphasis:

"Hey! Just because you finally decided not to shoot everyone in the wind as soon as you don't feel like it doesn't mean I've forgiven you! Argh...why do you always have to be such a caveman? You can solve things without always pepper spraying someone or hammering your fist in their face! I'm sick of being your punching bag!"

Jason merely shrugged his broad shoulders:

"Sorry you always happen to be the person around when we need quick results."

"Sorry not accepted! Mistreat your people all you want, but if you do that to me again, Sodom and Gomorrah will seem like a nice vacation to you! God it doesn't surprise me why no one in their right mind wants to work with you!"

Jason unceremoniously stood up and quickly pulled his little brother back onto his healthy leg, causing him to look slightly puzzled. Perkily, Jason grinned at him before replying:

"Because those with half a brain just don't have rough edges. And I have a lot of rough edges that can prick. But also more fun."

But this only made Tim look up at the taller man with a pout and couldn't share his good mood. Sourly, he grumbled back at him:

"A lot of edges can also get wedged really deep in the muck, though, and you should seriously sand some of them off."

"Aww are you worried about me?"

"More about my own health if I have to constantly deal with you smacking me in the face."

Jason just waved it off:

"Oh now don't make such a drama out of it. Every night villains try to smash your face in. My punch was at least with love."

"Which on the other hand explains why you don't have a girlfriend to this day. If that's supposed to represent your 'brotherly love', I don't want it. Why don't you try doing that to Dick or Damian if you enjoy it so much. I'm sure they'll give you at least as much love back.", snarled the teenager back with a nasty grin and Jason's lightness was somewhat dampened when he saw in his mind's eye the image of Damian taking off with his helmet and motorcycle once again and tearing them apart with his sword.

It was funny with Tim because he usually didn't get angry that quickly. Damian would immediately be at his throat. And Dick would rather turn the tables and use Him as a playmate.

He shook himself.

"Thanks but I'll pass. Damian always has such a creepy grin when he gets to go off on people he doesn't like. He definitely inherited that from his psycho mom ."

Tim shook it too and he grimaced eerily thinking about it:

"Ew...I know exactly what you mean."

But the corners of the teenager's mouth pulled up again as he continued his train of thought:

"Well, I'm lucky then that I probably won't be his number one enemy once he wakes up. You've really earned that title."

"Just don't remind me about that."

Jason's gaze roamed over Tim's shoulder and caught on one of the vehicles that filled the Batcave's complex fleet. Parts lay scattered on the floor, testifying only how broken the car was.

The Outlaw spoke out his new thought:

"Another topic, do you think you can fix Dina?"

Tim followed his gaze to Dick's beloved vehicle and disillusionment spread through him. Marked by his slight dejection, his brows drew together a bit before Tim gave his diagnosis regarding Dina:

"Well, I'm not sure. I took a look at her earlier. The engine compartment with its components was completely shredded and some parts of the complex outer shell are badly damaged. In itself, Dick mostly put her together. I did more of the software development and I'm not very skilled when it comes to building vehicles. So I don't give her much of a chance if I have to fix her without him. I'm not even sure if Dina herself exists anymore. She certainly didn't save herself into my cloud."

"Hm...Too bad, actually. Even though Dina was pretty annoying, she's still been a great car. I myself can repair halfway normal vehicles and the Batmobiles, but on this machine every part is a custom made. Especially since the many modes give you the feeling of working on a whole fleet of cars. Dick must have designed everything himself and without his blueprints, it's hard for me to understand everything. It's just nothing from the shelf."

"Unfortunately, I don't have the construction plans anymore. Dick didn't want to make a copy, because in the wrong hands it could lead to a lot of damage. I mean, you probably got a little taste of what she can do. So the more you have lying around, the more likely something gets stolen or even worse...Bruce discovers the plans. "

"Let me guess. No more support, for new projects?"

"Probably. I'll be happy if he just cuts me a couple of things financially. If I no longer have access to Waynetec parts and the Batman system, all my technology will be virtually useless. God, not to imagine if this case would happen. I would be so screwed if I had to resort to other brands or build everything myself."

Desperation clearly scratched the teenager's features at that thought, but Jason could only smile at it:

"If you ask me, it would probably do you some good to get little distance from all your technology."

"And you could use some anger management therapy!"

Suddenly they heard loud engine noises, the sound of which was further fueled by the Batcave's large tunnels. Puzzled by this, Jason and Tim looked at each other before the Outlaw asked first:

"Say, do you know who that could be? After all, we're all here and as far as I know the girls are busy with missions?"

His counterpart, however, didn't have an answer to that either and just shrugged:

"I don't know. I wouldn't know about Superman or Wonder Woman using motorcycles by now. Didn't Booster post the other day that he had a new bike?"

"Yeah right. Bruce would move voluntarily if that guy knew the Batcave was here."

The black motorcycle roared out of one of the approach tunnels and came to a stop on the parking lot with screeching tires. The loud rumble of the machine died away and a woman dressed in black leather stepped off the vehicle while pulling her helmet off her head.

Jason's mood plummeted towards the basement as he realized who had just entered these dark halls. Selina briefly brushed back her silky hair before taking a black bag from the two-wheeler and began walking towards them with elegant steps.

"Great. Not her again.", grumbled the Outlaw annoyed, when the cat also greeted them with a good-humored smile:

"Well, boys? I see you've found your way home again."

Jason just hissed angrily to himself. He was still pissed that this cat lady had prevented him from finally blowing that damn clown's grin off his face. He could have so easily just erased that stain had it not been for her.

While Tim didn't share the same grudge against the cat as Jason did, he was still surprised that the rumors were actually true and that Selina was in and out of the Manor at will. After all, this was Bruce we are talking about. The person who never revealed anything about himself. So Tim would believe events from this category only if the evidence stands right before his eyes. He still couldn't quite believe it, though, even when the facts were all laid out.

However, the teenager noticed quite quickly, the negative change of mood of his brother. Therefore, he politely replied for both of them:

"Yes, it is nice to finally meet the woman behind the cat. Timothy Drake's the name."

Tim offered her his hand amicably, which was immediately clasped by graceful fingers. And while Jason sat down on the box again in a bad mood to clearly show his disinterest with folded arms, the other two seemed to just ignore him.

"Selina Kyle, the pleasure is all mine. It's nice that at least someone is aware of the etiquette."

Even though it wasn't directly addressed to Jason, the message had gotten through. That cat can get stuffed!

Out of the corner of his eye, the Outlaw could see something small suddenly dart from the parked motorcycle to the woman. With the help of a nearby shelf, an old brown cat jumped onto Selina's shoulder and Jason could tell just from its nasty appearance alone, that this critter did not mean pleasant company.

"Oh, this is Isis, by the way. My longest companion and best friend. Since I've been making fewer visits home to my cats lately, at least she should be in my company for a while."   *

Tim laughed a little mischievously:

"Hehe, as long as Bruce doesn't mind."

"Oh he doesn't know anything about it. After all, he can't object then either."

She gave him a quick wink before continuing perkily:

"Speaking of which, do you know where I can find him?"

"He's in Damian's room. Unfortunately, a few days ago we were attacked and Damian..."

Tim was about to tell her what happened, but Selina just waved it off:

"You don't have to explain anything to me. Alfred has already informed me about your incident. It's nice to see that you all made it out of it alive, at least."

The mood experienced a harsh dampener as Tim summed it up:

"So am I. It was very close and Damian in particular took a bad hit, but the main thing is that we're all here."

"Still, with your leg, you look like you'd be better off sitting down. You really don't need to stand just because of me."

With that, the cat turned and Isis jumped off her shoulder again. Lithely, the brown cat trotted towards the outlaw, only to sit down in front of his feet the next moment and fix him with her nasty gaze. Jason eyed the old cat suspiciously. He was sure that she was up to some low-down crap and, waving his hands, directed her to find a movie theater elsewhere.

"Shooo, go away!"

But the cat didn't move a bit and continued to stare at him, which clearly displeased Jason.

As suggested, Tim now also sat back down on the box next to Jason, watching as Selina approached Dick's cage.

The woman pulled something out of her backpack and placed it between the bars without Dick moving an inch under his feathery bulk. Astonished, the two boys watched what she was doing there until Tim finally asked:

"Aren't you afraid of him?"

Selina didn't look at him, but continued to gaze at the motionless blue feathers as she answered:

"He never did anything to me and I never did anything to him. So I don't see why I should be afraid."

She pulled two more items out of her pocket and tossed them to the two boys with a quick, "Here." Confused, they each caught one of the fragile porcelain pieces and rightly wondered about it.

Tim faced a happy fat cat that seemed to be waving its upraised paw and seemed very friendly because of its two-tone spots on white fur. Jason had the same one, only with black fur and a rather grumpy face. Somewhat mocked, the Outlaw therefore asked:

"What's that junk?"

"Just a little good luck charm for recovery. I'll be with Bruce."

With that, the cat headed for the stairs and Isis let go of Jason to follow. Together they disappeared up into the Manor.

Finally back among themselves, Jason couldn't resist making a prediction:

"I can't shake the feeling off that this grumpy old kitty was trying to curse me. I'll give Bruce half a year before his Manor becomes a cat café."

To which Tim only replied dryly:

"I'll counter with three months."

Tim looked down at his pottery round cat before praising the kind gesture:

"But it's nice of her to bring us a waving cat."

"What kind of critter?"

"The porcelain figurine here. That's a waving cat. They wave good luck to you and especially the tri-color ones. Comes from the Japanese culture. Whereas these are pretty round as opposed to the traditional ones."

Jason merely rolled his eyes at this explanation:

"Of course you Otaku know this stuff."

But Tim didn't let that one go:

"Just because I occasionally watch anime and manga doesn't make me an otaku. But if that's the case, I might as well call you a housemaid."

"Housemaid?! Where do you get off calling me a housewife?"

Tim counted off the reasons on his fingers:

"You can cook, you know the tricks to doing laundry as well as cleaning, and you're fastidiously clean when it comes to your stuff."

"That has nothing to do with..."

"You lectured me the other day about rubbing baking soda on the stains on my laundry first."

"Yes, otherwise they won't go away completely."

"And an hour ago you lectured me about how you'd never get a robot vacuum because they're more likely to get stuck or eat things than clean the whole apartment. So your point was...?"

Stunned, Jason stared this ne'er-do-well in the face. He really wanted to deny these things, but knew they were basically true. So, offended and with his arms folded, he slid back even lower and just grumbled:

"Oh, fuck you."

But Tim didn't miss the chance to make one more thing clear:

"Besides, I'm more interested in video games."

While Jason then turned his cat back and forth in his hand, trying to find some kind of trap on this fragile thing with a suspicious look, Tim noticed something else:

"By the way, is that a tattoo on your finger? I noticed it before, but I don't remember seeing that in Bludhaven. How long have you had that?"

Tim pointed to the strange ring-shaped symbols on Jason's pinky, briefly surprising the taller man. With all the back and forth of the last few days, he hadn't thought about that one at all.

"I know this sounds a little crazy, but some weird guy put this on my finger. I ran into these demons in an alleyway before you guys, and they really messed with my brain with their voodoo stuff. Anyway, this guy suddenly appeared and chased them away, as well as left me this little souvenir."

Tim couldn't believe it:

"And you're just saying that now?!"

"Man, I think the problems we're having right now are enough! I can hardly remember anything anyway, since those monsters had messed around with my brain. So there's no use worrying about that either."

To Jason's surprise, Tim suddenly reached for his hand and examined the strange squiggles. The teen's brows drew together in concern before he said:

"I think those are runes. After everything that's been going on, I've been looking into the occult a bit. Could be a mix of Enochian and the Celtic. Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is Ehwaz. The rune of movement. And the others...I think they're bindrunes..."

Jason looked briefly at said rune, not sure if all this magic nonsense wouldn't cause Tim's brain to shut down completely. To him, this Ehwhatever looked more like a stinking normal M. He therefore pulled his hand away and treated the whole thing as a simple trifle:

"Enough with the sightseeing. I'm honestly not up for any more mumbo jumbo right now. And what are bindruns supposed to be anyway?"

"Jason you should take this seriously! Unlike normal runes, bindruns are multiple combined runes and therefore much stronger. With everything that's happened to us, we shouldn't take this as a simple humbug. You could be cursed!"

Tim had expected Jason to take this at least a little seriously. But contrary to his expectation, his counterpart just started laughing at it:

"Pff hahahaha and what kind of curse is that supposed to be? Do you really think that with my life so far I would still care about such a stupid curse? Oh come on Tim, how bad can something like that be? Besides, we don't really know anyway, and if the guy really wanted to do me harm back then, he would have already had the opportunity in the alley. So bygones be bygones."

Tim couldn't believe how irresponsibly Jason was handling this new circumstance. Lives were hanging by a thread here, and this ignorant blockhead said "Bygones be bygones?"!

Tim was pissed:

"Bygones? Bygones?! I don't think I'm hearing right! We don't know what this is and we were all almost killed by all this supernatural stuff! How can you think 'Oh, it won't be so bad'? I really wonder how you made it this far with this attitude! That's just so un-...Argh"

In the midst of his rage, Tim seemed to be overcome with pain and he grabbed his head with one hand.

Like the teenager himself, Jason was also caught off guard by this. Immediately his impassive mood changed to concern and he immediately inquired about his brother's condition:

"Tim?! Hey Timmy, are you okay?"

But despite his pain-distorted face, Tim just waved it off:

"Huh? Yeah, it's nothing. It's just a headache. I think the painkillers are working on me more than I thought. Maybe I should switch to a different brand."

Jason saw him start to sweat and couldn't really believe it. Subconsciously, Tim's still free hand wandered to his narrow chest and rubbed it briefly, as if to try ease the pain a bit. His breathing was heavier and he seemed to be a bit rattled.

Jason didn't like that at all:

"Say, are you sure about that? You don't give me the impression that everything is okay with you."

But Tim again just waved it off and tried to reinforce that with a slight smile:

"No no, I'm fine. I think I just need to lie down for a bit. It might have been a much lately. I'd better go to my room and get some sleep."

The teenager wanted to get up, but Jason saw immediately with the first few steps that he seemed a little wobbly on his feet. It definitely wasn't just the wrong pain pills. Surely this workaholic was overdoing it again.

Bluntly, therefore, he asked:

"Shall I help you?" and was also bluntly rebuffed right away:

"I'll probably manage that myself."

But to be honest, it didn't really look like that. Doddering little Tim ventured through the Batcave. This went quite well until he was confronted with the gamechanger of this whole situation. There was only one way up to the Manor.

Steps...

Shit...

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" called out his spectator from the front row to him in amusement and it gnawed at Tim's dignity to have to admit it now:

"Maybe a little help wouldn't be so bad after all."

But the help he got didn't make the circumstance of injured dignity any more bearable. Jason was there immediately, but did his help look like throwing Tim over his broad shoulder without another word to hold him tight with one hand and carry his crutches with the other. Of course, this did not go without complaint:

"What are you doing?!"

"By the time you slug reaches your room, we'll all have gray hair. After all, it's on the other side of the Manor. Besides, you yourself sort of said you were tired. So I'll carry your child weight class there quickly."

Tim wanted to protest against it, but the quick change to a new position was nothing for his already suffering head and everything started to turn around.

Not completely losing the fighting spirit, however, he muttered under lips compressed by nausea:

"I really hate you sometimes."

"Pah! Who doesn't? But that sometimes is something new."

So, without further grumbling, the outlaw carried Tim to his room and left him equipped with cooling pads for his forehead and the knowledge to contact him should he need anything else, back in bed. That was probably the best thing for these overstrained gray cells.

In another part of the building, Bruce sat unchanged at Damian's side, as did the Alfred the cat, who was sleeping and assisting his master. The father was still watching over his unconscious son, who, due to the onset of fever, was randomly twitching his limbs and muttering incomprehensibly at irregular intervals. Bruce was careful that Damian would not accidentally reopen his wounds and lose blood again. In his weakened condition due to anemia, that would not be good at all.

The man sighed once before sitting up in his chair.

Tired, his weary eyes stared down at what he was twirling between his hands, gazing absently. In the translucent light of the morning sun, two golden robins flashed beneath bloody patches, joined at the beaks, seeming to profess their affection.

Like each one of them, Dick's hoop was marked by their encounter with the demons. Bruce had found it in one of Damian's belt pouches and had kept it in the Cave until recently. However...it now found its way into his hands.

Some of his son's crusted blood crumbled onto his fingers, roughened from the fight, and as if in a trance, Bruce grabbed one of the wet wipes stowed in the medicine cabinet.

Carefully, he began to uncover the hidden gold, thinking back to when he first encountered this bracelet.

Opening the front door to his manor, the first thing that greeted Bruce's arrival was his huge chandelier, which immediately caught the eye of all visitors in the sprawling reception hall. Normally, the jaded owner didn't waste a second glance on this ancient gem, if it wasn't for the fact that it lay at his feet with all its broken components.

And he was quite sure about the reason behind this.

"Alfred?" the tall man called loudly through his mansion and it didn't take even a minute for the butler to appear at the parapet of the upper floor.

"Oh Master Bruce you're here already? I just hope you didn't end the meeting early again to pursue certain other matters. To neglect your company because of that would be highly unprofessional."

Bruce set his briefcase on the floor and pointed to the shards at his feet:

"Alfred what's that?"

There was slight sarcasm in his voice as the answer came:

"Well if my old eyes do not deceive me, I would say that it is the large chandelier."

"I can see that myself, but why is it not hanging up there, but lying broken on the floor?"

"Three guesses."

With the solution on the hand, Bruce couldn't help but rub his fingers strained over his tired blue eyes and let out a long sigh:

"Haaa...Richard?"

And Alfred confirmed, "Master Richard indeed. The boy apparently mistook it for a trapeze after I caught him in another escape attempt. I have already contacted a specialist company who will take care of it. By the way, if you'd like, I have some cucumber sandwiches to offer, as unfortunately they didn't go down very well with the young master. To be honest I am still in the process of cleaning the first two off the kitchen wall."

Bruce was stressed. Two weeks ago, he had brought Dick in to protect him from Zucco and his men. According to the witnesses, Haly, the owner of the circus, refused to pay him protection money, so John Grayson got involved and chased the extortionists away. But he had to bear the consequences exactly for that and nobody knew if they would not come back for Richard.

Bruce had therefore taken him in for protection, thinking he could help the boy since they shared the same fate.

But all the billionaire achieved so far were problems.

Richard did not react as he had expected. He was impulsive and quickly became aggressive when something didn't suit him. Unfortunately not infrequently something broke, like the more than one hundred year old chandelier that had to take its turn today. He mainly wanted to eat only chips and other sweet stuff instead of the balanced menu that Alfred offered him.

And Bruce had tolerated it at first, since the boy had just lost his parents. But he now doubted his concept. It was simple, but as Alfred had advised him before, nothing for the long run.

Bruce had no idea about children. How could he? He had only been one himself for a short time. So he didn't really know what to do now either. The boy was grieving and Bruce himself knew how hard that could be. But was it different for him.

Bruce withdrew as a child and didn't give himself much time to grieve. He developed hatred inside of him for the person who was responsible for the death of his parents. He did not destroy anything, did not become aggressive towards Alfred, but processed everything alone in silence.

Dick, on the other hand, is loud and causes many problems. The fact that this child is a talented Acrobat only adds fuel to the fire.

It was a complicated situation.

"If I can make a suggestion, I would recommend that you seek the conversation with the young master. Unless you plan to become the best customer of the special Restorer in the near future.", threw Alfred into the room and even if the billionaire didn't really want to do that because of his lack of experience, he still knew he wouldn't be able to avoid it.

Bruce hung his coat on the coat rack next to the door before asking:

"Do you know where he is right now?"

"Not exactly, but I'd try the west broom closet."

"The broom closet?"

"He's been hanging out there a lot lately. Anyway, his room is empty at the moment. It would be worth a try, don't you think?"

Bruce struggled with himself, not particularly eager for a confrontation. But eventually he acknowledged, annoyed:

"Fine. There are some documents in my suitcase that need to be filed. Can you take care of that for me?"

"Of course, it would be news to me anyway that you know your way around all your folders."

Moments later, the billionaire was standing in front of his destination, bracing himself for the conversation he wasn't even sure how to approach. He just couldn't do that. This wasn't one of his meetings where everyone just listened to his word.

Bruce first listened at the closed door, but could he hear nothing. Consequently, accompanied by shouts, he knocked on the old wood:

"Richard? Richard are you in there? It's Bruce. I'd like to talk to you about the incident with the chandelier."

But the young man got no answer. Bruce decided to just open the door cautiously and peeked lightly into the chamber packed with laundry and cleaning supplies.

"Richard?"

Piles of them were stacked on the big old shelves, neatly arranged by Alfred. The only thing that stood out were a few piles of overturned fresh towels and bedcovers. Probably due to a chain reaction caused by a tilted stack.

Bruce decided to tell Alfred about it later and leave the room again, since his problem child didn't seem to be here.

But just as the billionaire was about to step out the door, he heard unintelligible murmuring and the sound of laundry rubbing together.

Curious, Bruce stepped deeper into the room again. He saw nothing at first, but then caught sight of Richard on one of the open shelves among rumpled towels and sheets.

The boy slept inconspicuously and huddled in the lowest shelf. Seemed lost in all the white of the clean fabrics. Eyes red puffy from dried tears. The small fingers clasped tightly in one of the large sheets, so that it already adorned deep folds, instead of the neat smoothness they usually displayed.

It was as if he was using them as a kind of lifeline. A depressing image.

Bruce crouched down to him and at first struggled with himself what to do now. Was it better to let him lie here sleeping and confront the situation later, or should he wake him up and talk to him right away?

Fortunately, this decision was taken from him. Contrary to the young man's expectation, the reddened eyes first began to dance back and forth behind the thin skin, before finally, amid incomprehensible murmurs, blue peered out from between narrow slits.

"Mr. Wayne?"

"Hello Richard. Interesting place you've chosen to take a nap."

Bruce could see it rattling behind the sleepy look and as Dick so slowly began to register the situation he was in so truly, his eyes grew wide at first, only to give Bruce another evil glare the next second.

The young man sat up, but turned away from the world-famous billionaire and pulled his legs toward him. Turning his eyes petulantly to the ground, he asked only annoyed:

"What do you want?"

"I just found my chandelier."

"And?"

"It was apparently badly attached to the sealing if it came off so easily. Did something happen to you when it fell off?"

Dick folded his arms across his knees and embedded his mouth behind them, making the angry reply hard to hear:

"No...I just want to finally get out of here and go back home."

Bruce sat down with him before stating matter-of-factly, as he had so many times:

"You know that's not possible. Haly's circus has already moved on and your safety still can't be guaranteed."

"I don't care about that. I can take care of myself, and I don't need pity from some rich moneybag for whom I'm just another toy that makes him look good in front of the press. I don't need it."

What was he going to do? He just wasn't getting anywhere with the boy. It was like they were just going around in circles and Bruce had long been at the end of the little Latin he could offer. So how was he supposed to get to him?

Strained he stroked himself through the neatly combed hair as Dick suddenly seemed to notice something.

The angry dejection gave way to pure panic as the slender child's hands rummaged frantically through the sheets and he stammered startled:

"Oh no! Where is it!!! Where did it go!!! No no no no..."

"Where'd what go?" asked Bruce irritably, but the boy didn't even get that. He was too busy throwing every piece of laundry across the little room to find his lost treasure.

The billionaire watched the action with amazement until he finally saw something flash between all the chaos. Not giving it much thought, Bruce pulled the golden gem from under a white towel and asked him:

"Looking for this?"

Dick's eyes darted around to Bruce and he could see how panic had brought tears to his eyes. Without another word, Richard plucked the bracelet from his fingers and pulled it protectively to his chest as if his life depended on it.

Bruce could hear Dick sniffling and shaking all over as relief coursed through his body. Out of impulse, he reached out to stroke his back soothingly, as his father once did to him. But his painful memories held him back and his fingers eventually withdrew.

Instead, he just sat and waited for the boy to calm down a bit. Bruce cursed himself for not being able to help the boy in this situation. He wanted to. Even very much, but... he just couldn't.

His own fingers trembled as he tried. Became sweaty and rigid, as if his burden was gaining control of him.

So they eventually came to rest beside him again.

But where he couldn't help physically, perhaps he could vocally:

"Is the bracelet important to you?"

Still caught in his rigid, Dick nodded hesitantly beneath his wavy strands. Bruce couldn't see his face behind them, but he could imagine what the boy was going through.

Finally, an idea occurred to Bruce.

"Can I show you a secret of mine Richard?"

With his hand, he pulled from under his shirt a necklace with a strikingly large ring dangling from the end. Curious, Dick watched as Bruce unfastened it from his neck and held it in plain view in front of his face while he explained:

"I also have something that is very important to me. This is the Waynes' signet ring. It has been passed down in my family for generations, and so I inherited it from my father. It holds a secret that is my greatest treasure."

Under teary eyes, Dick's interest had finally grown to the point where he was finally talking again:

"A secret?"

Bruce confirmed:

"Yes a secret. Take a good look."

The young man's rough fingers turned the crest around in a specific order until it popped open with a quick click, revealing a secret compartment.

Somewhat confused, Dick looked at the white bead inside and raked further:

"A pearl?"

Bruce expression adorned no smile when he saw it. He knew it's history and usually kept it locked in the ring. But now he explained to Dick what his treasure was all about:

"Yes. It was part of my mother's favorite necklace. The night my parents died, the ribbon broke and scattered the beads all over the crime scene. They were all confiscated by the police as evidence, but this one had fallen into the pocket of my coat, which is why I have it to this day. It is the one I feel most connected to. Her name was Martha. I was the same age as you when I lost her and my father in the robbery."

Closely, Dick looked at the magnificent piece of jewelry with the plain white pearl inside. He had never seen a ring that had a secret compartment, and Bruce would also be careful not to say that this compartment held poison in ancient times. Much wealth brought many enemies.

Finally, he thought it was a good time to take the next step:

"Would you also like to tell me the story about your treasure?"

Reminded again of his own fate, Dick's sad eyes looked at his golden bracelet. He hesitated. Was not sure whether he should give his trust to this actually complete stranger.

But after some initial hesitation, he showed Bruce his most important possession:

"It...it belonged to my mother, too. I saved up for it for a long time because I wanted to give her something special for her 30th birthday. It has two robins on it. One for my mom and one for my dad. She loved robins and always said I looked like one when...when we flew in the air together."

Bruce noticed Richard faltering more and more as grief overtook him. Looking closely at the birds joined at the beaks, the distraught boy continued to explain to him the symbolism hidden behind them:

"They...they are connected because nothing should separate us. We shared everything. Even slept together in our trailer all the time. B-because together we were a unit...a family...but now...now..."

Dick burst into tears as he finally spoke the next words:

"Now I'm alone!"

Bruce flinched a little, not expecting such a violent outburst.

"I don't like it here! Everything is so big, dark not colorful or joyful. Just empty. I want to go home to my circus. To Mr. Haly, Zitka, to the people and animals who are my family! I don't want to be here. I don't want to be alone!"

Richard was now crying terribly for the first time about his own fate, and that's when Bruce finally began to understand. Dick had been keeping it all bottled up for the past two weeks. Not confiding in either him or Alfred, much like he himself did at the time. But unlike Bruce, who was just suffering silently, Dick was trying to be pushed away with his rebellious behavior to get back home.

It was different for Dick than it was for Bruce back then. Bruce had lost his parents, but not his butler, his environment, his home. Dick, on the other hand, had lost everything. Not just his parents, but everything else. His profession as an acrobat, the people he knew, the trailer that was his home.

Bruce had ripped Dick out of all that and put him in a house that was more than just huge, and with three people living in it now, probably more than understaffed. From little space and lots of people to an emptiness that Bruce had never really been aware of to the same degree. And also with him. A complete stranger.

Out of nowhere, Dick suddenly clawed his way into Bruce's shirt and pressed his small child's body against the surprised young man.

Bruce, not knowing what to do with himself, just stared perplexed at the wall, as Dick continued to stammer into the fabric of his white shirt, wetting it with his tears:

"I hate the man who did this! He should rot in hell and never have the chance to do such things again. It's his fault that I'm here! It's his fault I'm alone! It's his fault!"

Pressing himself even closer to the billionaire, Dick let all his emotions run wild. From sadness to hate, from loneliness to insecurity, and Bruce could clearly feel the wetness growing on his chest.

He knew what it meant to make the murderer of his parents responsible for his own fate. The hatred it stirred up in him. And he knew that it was actually wrong, but that it could not be completely suppressed.

And for the first time one of Bruce's arms wrapped around the grieving boy. Where before he had felt inhibited because of his own past, now he felt connection and overcame his inner conflict. He pulled the boy closer to him to give him support. To signal to him that, contrary to his own thoughts, he was not alone. But Dick still asked as he looked up at Bruce with wide eyes:

"What's going to happen to me now?"

Bruce's heart grew heavy at the forlorn sight of Dick. He wasn't sure what to say now, there were no words that could help Dick at this moment. He knew that too well himself. But Bruce could offer him something else. And so his voice, infected with grief, assured him:

"I don't know. But if you let me, I'll help you figure it out. I can't take you back to your old life, but I can offer you a new one. One with me and Alfred. Not as colorful and lively as your previous one, but I can offer you my support so that we can find a new way for you together. And who knows, maybe you'll like being with us someday."

Bruce saw the brain working behind the boy's eyes as the words reached his mind. He thought about it. About this offer, about the possibilities he had. But in the end, Bruce got no response to his proffered compromise. Dick merely continued to cling to Bruce, allowing several moments to pass.

Finally, he dug his face back into the young man's shirt and mumbled with difficulty:

"I miss them so terribly and it hurts. Will this ever get better?"

Bruce's brows drew tightly together and his brow wrinkled deeply. He knew the answer. Knew exactly how unattractive it was, so he didn't want to give the boy a gentle lie:

"No. But you learn to move on and deal with it. Still, the pain will stay and catch up with you again and again. Sometimes better, sometimes worse."

He felt Dick press harder against him again and the bracelet in the boy's hand pressed against his back. His shirt began to grow even wetter as falling tears wet it again and Dick's choked sounds faded muffled.

In his fingers now, Bruce turned his ring back and forth as he gazed at the trinket lost in thought, reveling in his past himself.

So they sat close together for a long time in the little broom closet. Giving comfort, stopping the loneliness and finding the support they both needed.            *

The cleaned gold finally sparkled brilliantly at Bruce, almost back to its original charm. Some of the blood was still visible on the ornaments, but he could take care of that later.

Straining, Bruce propped his furrowed brow against the gleaming piece of metal and just muttered dejectedly to himself, eyes closed, "Oh Dick..."

Seconds, minutes, moments passed in which his mind seemed to go blank, escaping further into the past. Away from the dilemma he was in.

"Hey Bruce! Bet you a penny I can do the 37 bounces with catching too? Take a good look!"

Dick threw one of his Escrema sticks across the Batcave so that it first bounced off a large cauldron and then continued to make its way through the air. The stick flew from one corner to the other and back again. On its way, it kissed the big T-Rex, numerous lampshades, as well as the big Joker card and finally found its way back into Nightwing's hand:

"Bam! 37 times! Looks like you owe me a penny!"

Batman looked up from his computer work a bit confused as he finally paid attention to his grinning foster son. Slightly flustered, he replied:

"A penny? I didn't even bet you, did I?"

But Dick just ignored him and walked over to the Giant Coin that had its place next to the other trophies. Perky and with his best smile, he pointed to it:

"I'll take the big one. I'm sure it will look good on the wall in my living room."

Suddenly a laugh sounded from Batman's side. But it sounded strange. Not real. Not like a normal laugh. Not from the heart...

"Ha! The big one. Hehehe...ha...hahaha...I...hehehe...I..."

Dick noticed that Bruce was really trying hard to show emotion, but he was still getting in his own way. Even though everyone always thought he was cold and stubborn, he just wasn't. Bruce just couldn't be himself. This part had gone from a flame to a spark in Crime Alley and was completely extinguished with Jason's death.

He had been crippled by fear and guilt.

"Damn it! I...I can't. Why...I'm sorry Dick, I...I'm all right...it's all right."

And Dick knew that. He knew the real Bruce. The one who couldn't make it through the tons of load.

"Hey Bruce buddy, no big deal. I know you're all right. I just want you to know that I'm here if you don't want to be alright. We are a team after all. And the best, if I may say so."

Dick didn't waver from his smile and approached Bruce. As if nothing had happened, he held out his fist and waited for Bruce to return it. This gesture now elicited a slight smile from the bat as well, but this time it was a not so tense one.

Their fists met and Bruce acknowledged with relief:

"Yes...yes we are."      *

Bruce was desperate. He didn't really know how to let others in. He couldn't show emotion. It never grew beyond a thin smile and when he tried to really laugh, something held him back. He could only push people away, but not let them get close to him.

And Dick understood that.

He knew how to understand him and could translate Bruce for others on an emotional level. Dick kept their family together that way.

So what was Bruce without Dick?

"Hey Bat."

Suddenly Selina's soft voice snapped Bruce out of his thoughts and made him look briefly over his shoulder where his beloved cat stood in the doorway.

"Oh, hello Selina." He greeted her with a slight smile as well, and the cat approached him to take a closer look at his tired face:

"Hm...I can't shake of the feeling that you have new wrinkles on your face every time I see you lately."

She worriedly placed a hand on his cheek and Bruce leaned slightly against the affectionate gesture.

"You look even worse than usual Bat, and that's not good even for you."

"It...the situation is complicated. How did your mission go?"

"I think that question is redundant. A mere walk in the park to put these bad guys behind bars."

Selina pulled something out of her pocket and regarded it with satisfaction as she looked lasciviously at her beloved prey, then continued speaking:

"Even though I couldn't help but take a little souvenir with me. It just wouldn't come off my claws."

Bruce watched Selina twirl the large green gem in her fingers, complimenting her similarly colored eyes with its glow.

Normally, he would have told her now to turn the stone over to the police so they could return it to where it was taken. But at the moment, he actually didn't even care. He merely sighed heavily and let her have that fun for now.

Bruce was just too exhausted to care about that too, so he just silently turned back to his badly injured son.

Now Selina was really worried. She actually wanted to take Bruce's mind off things with her light teasing and usually it always worked, but even if each of his sons escaped with their lives, it had left significant marks on her lover.

She decided otherwise and placed a small porcelain cat on Damian's nightstand, its waving paw matching the other three in the Cave.

Now curious after all, Bruce asked:

"What's that?"

"A maneki neko. A good luck charm that drives away evil and attracts good."

She looked at her bat with understanding before adding:

"Your sons are important to you, and so they are to me. A little luck can't hurt them all right now. Don't you think?"

Bruce looked at the piece more closely. The cat's happy face was like a stem break in Damian's room. After all, all decorations Damian had were his painted pictures on the Investigation Wall and the standard furnishings of the Manor. Unlike normal children's rooms, this one wasn't adorned with cheerful things.

Dick and Tim had many photos with their friends or fan merchandise and even Jason decorated some areas of his room with banners of famous sports teams or musicians at the time. But Damian's room always remained empty.

So he couldn't help but feel that this little fat cat actually brought a little joy to this barren room and it did now conjure a slight smile on the father's lips.

"Thank you Selina. It really looks like it brings a little happiness in here."

"I hope so." She replied perkily, but then noticed the bracelet in Bruce's fingers and curiously asked:

"That doesn't look like one of your heirlooms. What is it?"

Bruce sighed heavily before holding up the hoop more visibly and answering:

"Dick's. It belonged to his mother and he gave it to Damian before he disappeared. It was always very important to him and something of a treasure."

Selina looked closely at the sparkling piece of jewelry, but remnants of blood stains in hard-to-clean places took away some of its charm. And if there was one thing she liked, it was seeing things in all their glory.

"A pretty piece, but hard to clean by hand with these decorations. If you allow, I'd be happy to clean it for you. It is one thing to steal things of value, but you must also treat them well to preserve them. I have a little experience with that."

Bruce hesitated at first, but eventually gave the bracelet into her hands. He trusted Selina in that regard and knew she handled such things with the respect they deserved.

The cat spun the piece around in her fingers before spotting Alfred next to Damian. Her graceful fingers wandered through the cat's long fur, startling him from his sleep accompanied by a protesting meow. But when Alfred saw who it was, he started to purr and was happy about Selina's company.

Gently she scratched him on the head as she praised his presence:

"A really faithful companion Damian has there. You can tell he's worried about him too and wants to make sure nothing else happens to him. They seem to have a very close bond."

Bruce watched as the black and white cat pressed further into Selina's gesture under closed eyes, clearly enjoying being caressed by her. He knew that Alfred was a loyal soul. The cat rarely left Damian's side during this time and occasionally brought him small gifts from outside, such as colorful leaves or forest-scented pine cones.

Thank God Damian had trained him not to bring animals inside.

But something else occurred to Bruce as he looked at his beloved Cat being petted:

"How's your back, by the way?"

"Oh, it's not so bad. You know how burns are. Annoying the first week and then it's really just a twinge. But you will have to come to terms with the fact that you will no longer find flawless skin there. Maybe in that regard I should change my wardrobe in the future."

Bruce reached for her hand, which still held the bracelet, and assured her:

"I didn't decide to let you into my life because of your pretty back."

To which Selina only replied, " That would also have been quite little." And lovingly gave him a kiss.

Thereupon she turned to leave again, but not without getting rid of something else:

"Well, I'm going to go unpack my things and get this sweetie here back in shape. If you ask me, you could also use a break. I'll be happy to take your shift when I'm done or ask one of the others if they have time."

But he just waved it off:

"That's not necessary. I'll stay a little longer."

But Selina didn't let this stand and now became more serious with him:

"Bruce, you don't have to do everything by yourself. Don't forget that."

With that, the cat disappeared out the door, leaving the father alone with his son again.

Later that day, Jason's hunger was driving him to the Manor kitchen when he found Alfred there. The old butler was cutting cooked vegetables and meat into a dog dish when he approached him:

"Whatcha doin' Al?"

"Oh Master Jason! I was just preparing the food for Ace. Based on your presence, I assume you are also looking for a meal. Would you like me to prepare something for you?"

Jason's path led him further to the refrigerator door and promptly opened it as he continued:

"Leave it, I'll just grab some of the sandwiches from yesterday."

"As you wish."

With the object of his desire in his hands, Jason actually wanted to move away again, but when he saw Alfred now scattering supplements over the food and pictured that angry dog in front of him, he couldn't help but offer him his help:

"Say, do you want me to take over Ace? If that mutt accidentally bites me it's nowhere near as bad as if he bites you."

"Oh you really don't have to. I'm quite experienced at handling him."

But that wasn't reason enough for Jason to take this risk any further, so he took the prepared bowl from the old butler:

"That doesn't mean I approve of it. If he bites your hand, I'm the one who won't get any more food from you. Besides, I don't have anything better to do right now. I might as well move my lunch over to the mutt."

"Well, if that's what you really want, then I'll take care of getting new paint for Master Bruces red Ferrari. I wanted to rework a scratch in the vehicle, but someone seems to have stolen my red paint. You wouldn't happen to know who that might have been?"

Caught off guard, Jason paused for a moment. He knew the paint was extremely expensive, but still snatched it for his broken helmet. It was too tempting, considering how pretty his helmet now shone. In order not to get caught, he was left with only one bad lie:

"Um...no? I have to go now. Ace is probably already waiting. See ya!"

With a knowing smirk, Alfred watched his personal helper hastily leave the kitchen. Even if there were many who saw it differently, Jason was still a good boy.

Armed with the prepared dog food and his lunch, Jason trudged to the Manor's huge backyard toward a Great Oak.

The small garden shed right next to the old tree had been converted into the temporary shelter of their disturbing new addition, and Jason wasn't even close when he was greeted gruffly by a rattling chain and loud yapping.

"So you're Ace, then. Nice of you to introduce yourself." ,the outlaw said to the brown German shepherd and took a closer look at the animal with bared teeth. The dog was severely malnourished, covered with bite marks and bore several scars even on its snout. The fur was badly disheveled and sticky with dirt. In itself not surprising, since no one could approach the dog, unless one was keen to find these presented teeth in his own flesh. Apart from the stress the animal would have.

But despite all the scars and layers of dirt, Jason could see that Ace was quite a handsome representative of his breed. And yet, his destiny had led him to this clown, of all things.

The fur on his back was clearly erect, his tail wagging back and forth in aggressive excitement, his ears laid back and his teeth bared.

The Joker had clearly taught this poor animal to consider everything an enemy. Be it the little sparrows that were hanging around, Batcow when she was grazing in the adjacent meadow, or Jason himself just standing in front of him with the food.

He was alone in the fight against the whole world. Jason knew this. After all, he had been there himself once.

The chain tightened as the dog tried to bite him, but the outlaw was careful to keep a foot's distance so that the teeth snapped into nothing.

"Well are you hungry buddy? Instead of trying to eat me, you better chow down on this. Al made it especially for you. The way you look, you could use a little more on your ribs."

Jason set the bowl down at his feet and slowly pushed it toward the barking dog. When it was within reach, he narrowly escaped a bite to the hand.

"Oops, you almost got my fingers there. Sorry to disappoint you but you can't have those. I still need them."

The dog didn't let go of his threats, but that didn't bother Jason. He just sat down on the grassy ground and pulled out one of Alfred's sandwiches. Relaxed, he bit into it and stared into the distance, while Ace continued to try to chase him away with loud threats.

The dog paid no attention to the food, only interested in the intruder. But Jason knew that sooner or later the animal would give in. After all, hunger was the driving force for all living things.

So he himself first thought about what to do now. Sure, there was the old plan to cure Dick, but the hitch was that he had to somehow deal with Bruce first. Which, by the way, he disliked very much. But who could blame him?

What had Bruce ever done for them except throw money around and offer them a home for his own salvation. Jason himself thought at the time that he had finally found his real father. Not related in blood, but in heart.

But that was probably only the image his vulnerable part wanted to convey to him. Because Bruce did not care. Even when they started to tolerate each other again, this bat didn't even bother to ask Jason about his beings. It counted only Red Hood and whether he could be of any help for Batman.

Who was he as a human?

But for Jason the people counted. Dick, Tim and Damian were more important than the masks they wore. He no longer wanted them to be degraded by Batman into something that disrespected them as a person. Damian, of all people, was never his own person. Only what his dysfunctional parents wanted him to be.

And now look where that got him. Jason had spent enough time with Nayeli to see the results of emotional neglect in Damian.

Running away, lack of distance in communication, impulsiveness, aggressiveness, delinquency....

All these conspicuities in social behavior were signs of it. He would not even be surprised if some kind of personality disorder added to it.

And Bruces, this narcissist, did not even notice this, of course. He was too busy with himself.

Maybe he should actually get Damian away from Bruce after the whole thing. Jason knew that he himself was not pure by any means, but he was still sure to be better than Bruce in this aspect. Damian was still young. He could still be helped.

Suddenly Jason heard munching noises next to him. Ace had stopped barking and finally decided to let his hunger win. But when he saw that he was being stared at, he started growling again behind a stuffed mouth.

Jason snorted in amusement at the sight. Of all things, this dog knew the same hell he was walking through. At the mercy of a clown and his own breaking willpower. He knew exactly what was going on inside him:

"You're afraid to trust me what? You're afraid of getting hurt again. Stronger than wounds ever could. But believe me, you're only getting in your own way."

Ace barked at him again, so that parts of the food landed in the Outlaw's face. Somewhat disgusted, he wiped the mess away.

"Thanks but you really don't have to share. Besides, I just ate already."

The dog's scowling eyes and lifted lips clearly showed that he still considered him an intruder and would attack immediately if it weren't for the iron chain around the animal's neck.

But Jason didn't let that faze him. He liked any dog. This one was no exception and so he laughingly suggested:

"Haha...Who knows, maybe we will become friends after all, once you can trust again."

And suddenly Alfred's words from yesterday came back to Jason's mind:

*You can't see through a locked gate. But if you unlock it, the world is open to you. You just have to find your key. In that regard, you have a lot in common with Master Bruce.

He began to understand the more precise meaning behind it and could not help but flip from amazement to annoyance. He visibly disliked having to admit that he had more in common with Bruce than he initially wanted to admit. And so he grumbled angrily in Ace's direction:

"Oh I hate it that Alfred is always right!", before he rebelled and went back to the Manor.

Jason believed he had finally found a way to get them all to cooperate.

Late in the afternoon, Jason finally trudged back down the stairs to the Batcave. He wanted to make sure that Timmy wasn't loitering around there again and instead of resting, getting back into work.

Apart from that, he put it in his head to get Bruce off his back. It couldn't go on like this and if Jason wanted to make progress, his method of achieving it was radical.

When the Outlaw was finally able to survey the entirety of the Cave as he walked down, he noticed not only Bruce at his beloved computer, but to his regret, Tim as well, pursuing his own notes a bit off to the side.

That he couldn't even for once give his body some rest.

But Jason also noticed someone else. This stupid bitch of a cat, who was cleaning something between her fingers. She sat near Bruce and was probably his moral support here. Surprisingly this did not only include the bed.

This house really wasn't easy if you didn't like the scanty half of the people living here.

Arriving at the bottom of the stairs, Jason's gaze briefly wandered to Dick, who was still hiding unchanged in the cage under his feathers. Even Selina's porcelain cat had not moved a bit behind the bars since this morning.

It was really time that something changed.

He continued going to Bruce and felt Tim's surprised look on him. When he finally got to him, Jason literally spat at his head:

"Hey. Can we talk?"

Bruce couldn't deny that this question hit him out of nowhere. He hadn't expected Jason, of all people, to seek a conversation with him. But Bruce was exhausted. Tired, at his last reserve by everything that had happened lately. He felt he was in no good shape to have a clarifying conversation with Jason now. Therefore, Bruce said curtly:

"Not now.", and could have reprimanded himself in the next moment for how harsh that sounded.

But Jason, of course, didn't take that lying down, so he growled back:

"This is all crap what you're doing here Bruce. We'll never get anywhere like this!"

The Outlaw grabbed the back of the man's chair and pulled him back hard, causing his broad fingers to leave their keyboard and Bruce to find himself behind Jason.

Jason turned and leaned over him, leaving Bruce no choice but to listen to what his foster son had to say:

"Now you listen to me asshole! I didn't sacrifice everything just so your colossal ego can go back to destroying everything we've accomplished! You can do your shitty evaluations later, but do we definitely have more important things to sort out! For example, how you intend to proceed with Dick, who as you can surely tell is a fucking wreck!"

But Bruce was not in the mood to discuss this with Jason now. Silently he just pushed him aside and got up to pursue other analyses that could help in their case. He just left it to the left.

And Jason was finally seeing red. He wanted to see how far he had to go before Bruce finally cared, so he didn't shy away from the lowest blows. He shouted with outstretched arms and full of scorn turned to the man's back:

"What a coward! You think you are so great that you don't even believe it necessary to listen to us even once. But do you know what I wonder? What do you think Martha and Thomas would say if they could see you today?"

Tim's eyes snapped open in shock as Jason dragged those two names into their arguments and could only advise him in shock, "Jason don't..."

But of course, the Outlaw pressed on:

"How their son runs around at night in a bat costume pursuing his self-appointed justice which we all know is pure bullshit! What has ever changed in Gotham accept for the fact that the freaks out there have only become more numerous! You've been chasing the same psychopaths for years. Surely she'd be real proud of that, our lovely Marth-!"

Before Jason could finish his sentence, a powerful fist drove through his face, catapulting the Outlaw to the ground. It sent a terrifying silence throughout the Cave and no one dared to break it. Finally, Bruce's voice, tinged with rage, threatened:

"Don't you dare put her name in your mouth again."

But Jason wasn't going to put up with that crap any longer once and for all, and just started laughing hoarsely. He wanted to lit the fire even more:

"Pff hahaha...what name? Martha maybe?"

Small character age info on the side:

Bruce 39, Dick "26", Jason 23, Tim 19 Damian 13

Because:

In the flashback shortly after Dick's parents die, Dick is 8 years old and Bruce is about 22.

Dick's age comes from his very old comics from 1940, as he was always made older in later ones for etic reasons (usually anything from 12 to 15). They didn't go back to a younger age until Damian (10). The rest was always older.

In my story he's 8, since that fits best with all the Robins and their relationship to Bruce (Bruce also lost his parents when he was 8 in most versions). Actually, Bruce is about 30 in these 1940s comics, but that would make him about 49 in my story, and that's kind of too old for me.

So Bruce in my story became Batman at about 20, after several years of preparation.

Dick became Robin at either 8 or later (may have trained for it for a few years), at 17 he became Nightwing and Jason became Robin at about 14 (Bruce about 30).

Jason then died at 17 and Tim became Robin at about 13 (Bruce 33).

When Tim was 16 Damian replaced him as the new Robin (Bruce 36)

Therefore currently: Bruce 39, Dick "26", Jason 23, Tim 19, Damian 13

(However, it makes more sense if Dick was 11 or 12 at the death of his parents, since Tim would have seen his show then at about 5-6 years old. With the 2-3 years he would have had in my story, that doesn't work very well, but I didn't really think about that in the beginning. Now it's like this.)