Everything felt hazy, as if his head was wrapped in layers of fluffy cotton, the sounds around him muffled and distorted, his body feeling oddly light and yet heavy at the same time.

Something was missing, and, after a moment of thought, Dick realized that it was pain. He should be in pain. In fact, that was the only thing that he was completely certain of. But the pain was not there.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, wincing as the bright light almost immediately made them water. He closed his eyes again. It was so bright.

Why was it so bright?

He could hear someone moving around and then the lights dimmed.

With a sigh of relief, Dick blinked his eyes open once more, reaching up to rub at them, only to note that his hand was bandaged, the material so vibrantly white that it took him aback for a moment. Something was not right about this situation.

It just... it just did not fit.

As his senses became more alert, Dick registered the fact that there was a man in the room, standing by the door and what he could only presume was a light switch.

He knew that man.

"B-Bruce?" His voice cracked, hacking coughs proceeding the question as pain flared in his throat. "Ow..."

Water.

He needed water.

Fortunately for Dick, Bruce seemed to know exactly what he needed, stepping to his bedside picking up a cup of water, sliding a hand under Dick's head in support as he helped him drink. "Shh... just drink this. You've got some damage to your vocal cords... it's probably going to be hard to talk for a while."

Dick gulped the water down as quickly as Bruce would let him, ignoring the way that it made his stomach cramp uncomfortably. It felt so good, the cool liquid soothing the ache in his throat.

As Bruce pulled the cup back, Dick gave him a weary smile. "Thanks..."

Bruce returned the smile, running a gentle hand through Dick's hair, the touch surprisingly comforting. "Of course."

Silence filled the room, but Dick found that it was not uncomfortable. No, if anything, the silence was comforting. He was still trying to piece together his memories, trying to make sense of the vague memories of pain in conjunction with his obvious injuries and his presence in what was clearly some kind of hospital room.

The memories were filtering in slowly, from the fight with Slade to the hours of prolonged torture. Not that the torture was unexpected. He had known that the torture was incoming as soon as he believed Bruce was telling him the truth.

"Jason... is Jason okay?" He asked, remembering all too vividly how Slade's blade had plunged into the other male's chest; how he had lay bleeding out onto the floor.

"Jason is fine. I followed your destress signals and got there in time. He's recovering at the manor."

"Good... that's... that's good." Dick let out a breath that he was not even aware of holding in, body relaxing back onto the bed. He would have hated for Jason to be seriously injured because of him.

At least the distress signal had worked.

However, now the issue of Jason was out of the way, Dick's mind went straight to the next most urgent thought. "Did... did I dream the building collapsing, or did... or did that really happen?"

Bruce frowned, looking away with a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Dick... I sent Wally back in to try and get him out, but it was too late at that point. Slade is dead."

Why did that statement hurt so much?

Dick knew that Slade had not been good, knew that the mercenary had manipulated and lied to him, had tortured and hurt him, and yet... and yet it still hurt. And Dick hated himself for feeling sad about it.

"I-I... I shouldn't be upset about it. I shouldn't... he killed my family. He l-lied to me..." Dick whispered, more trying to convince himself than anything else.

Still, Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully lifting Dick up and into an embrace, holding him tenderly, as if he were a fragile piece of glass, mere moments from shattering. "It's okay to be upset, Dick. Yes, he was a horrible person, but he still raised you. You are allowed to miss him. You are allowed to grieve for him. Being sad about his death does not mean that he won. If anything, it shows how strong you are; how capable of kindness. It's okay."

And so, face pressed into Bruce's shoulder, Dick cried.

He cried for the man who had raised him.

He cried for the moments of kindness that he still cherished deeply.

He cried for the relationship that had been lost.

He cried for his life that had been a lie.

And, for the first time in years, he cried for his parents. Because, whether he still wished it or not, they had been avenged.

~•~

"Can I pick the movie tonight?"

"No. I wanna pick it."

"Oh, come on... you picked it last night."

"Too bad. I'm the oldest. I get to pick the movie."

"That's not even a rule."

"Well, considering the fact that I'm the one able to move around, I think I get to make the rules."

Dick stuck his tongue out childishly, only to get flipped off by Jason.

Bruce simply sighed. "Why don't we just discuss something, and all decide together?"

"Because Dickie-bird doesn't know any movies, your taste is fucking awful, and Alfred doesn't watch movies. This leads to only one option. I get to pick." Jason insisted, holding the remote away as Dick leaned over him in an attempt to swipe it.

Dick huffed, unbalancing and ending up sprawled out on the couch, the upper half of his body on top of Jason and his feet by Bruce. "This is still unfair."

"Shhh. You'll like it, trust me." Jason reassured, ruffling Dick's hair, helping him get comfortably situated, still stretched out along the couch. "Lord of the Rings is a classic."

Bruce pulled a blanket off the back of the couch, spreading it over Dick and Jason before returning to his seat, a fond look in his eye and a faint smile on his lips. "My taste in movies is fine. But I do agree that Lord of the Rings is good... if you don't like it, Dick, we can always switch it out for something else."

"Fine, fine... but I'm choosing tomorrow."

"Sure, kid. Sure."

In the kitchen, Alfred simply watched and smiled. It had been a week since Dick had been rescued, and both his and Jason's recoveries were going well. Jason was healed enough to leave, and yet, he remained at the manner, insistent on hanging out with his 'baby bro'.

And, Alfred could tell that the boys were truly forming a bond. Even better than that, he could see how happy Bruce was to have both boys under the same roof and alive. It was practically a miracle.

Alfred pulled out a camera from one of the drawers, snapping a few quick photos of the sweet domestic scene. He knew that they all had a long way to go, but this was a start.

Everything was going to be okay.

~•~

"Robin! I'm so glad that you're okay!"

"Do you want us to call you Robin or Dick?"

"We helped Batman with finding you!"

"Do you need help with anything?"

"I made cookies!"

"Okay. Back the fuck off. All of you. Give the kid room to breathe." Jason snapped, eyes narrowing behind his mask, one hand moving to rest protectively on Dick's shoulder, moving ever so slightly in front of the younger male.

"Calm down. It's fine. Really." Dick laughed nervously, shaking his head and nudging Jason ever so slightly in the side. He appreciated the other's concern, he really did, but it was not helping with his anxiety over this meeting. After all, he had not spoken to the team as a whole since before Bruce had found everything out.

They were going to hate him.

"Um... hi guys..."

Quite unexpectedly, Connor was the first to step forward, offering Dick his hand with an equally anxious smile. "Hi, Robin... I'm Connor. Welcome to the team."

Dick gasped, tears welling up unbidden to his eyes as he grasped Connor's hand with his own. "I-I... thankyou." He whispered, barely managing to keep himself from breaking down as Connor, Superboy, pulled him into a cautious hug.

To him, it was all too clear what Connor was doing. The clone was giving him a full second chance. A clean slate. And Dick... well... Dick had not known how much he needed that.

One by one, the rest of the team followed suit, re-introducing themselves to Dick, each introduction sending him closer to tears until, finally, Wally stood before him, all freckles and grins.

"Hey, Robin. I'm Wally, and you're part of this team. No matter what."

And then, Dick really did cry, sinking to his knees on the floor, quickly joined by each member of the team until they were all just a big pile of tears and hugs.

"Well, this is probably the sappiest shit I'll ever see. I hate it." Jason deadpanned, looking down at them with one judgmental eyebrow raised.

Dick snorted, eyes widening for a brief moment as his shoulders began to shake, laughter bursting forth from his lips, a contagious kind of laughter that spread through the other teens until the pile of tears turned into one of unstoppable giggles with Jason continuing to stand judgmentally over them.

~•~

Dick screamed, body jolting out of bed and onto the floor with a loud thump. He shrunk back against the wall, sandwiching his body between the bed and bedside table, breaths coming in sharp gasps as his eyes roamed the room, wide with panic.

The door to his room flew open, and Bruce came rushing in, eyes focusing in on the boy's trembling form. Cautiously, he approached, kneeling down next to Dick.

"Hey... it's okay, Dick. It's okay. You're at Wayne Manor, remember? You're safe." He murmured, voice soft and gentle, the tone a far cry from what he spoke like while acting as Batman. But in this moment, he was not Batman. He was Bruce Wayne, and his son was scared.

Dick shuddered, blue eyes glistening with unshed tears, his breathing calming ever so slightly as his brain registered Bruce's words. "B-Bruce? It... it's okay?"

The question was spoken with such timid fear, such clear brokenness, that it made Bruce want to punch something. Or better yet, someone. Instead, he simply held out a hand to the frightened boy. "I promise. It's okay."

Dick took the offered hand, letting Bruce pull him out and onto his lap, finding comfort in the older male's warm embrace, breathing settling down into a slow rhythm as Bruce whispered gentle reassurances over and over.

~•~

It felt oddly good to cry, Dick decided, letting the tears trickle down his cheeks as he gazed down at the graves in front of him, kneeling to carefully place a bunch of flowers on each cold stone surface.

"Hi Mami... hi Tati. I'm sorry I haven't come to see you before... I... a lot of stuff has happened," he murmured, dropping back to sit in front of the graves, sad blue eyes fixed on the stones before him, tears continuing to trace their paths down his cheeks. "I... I wasn't okay for the longest time. But now... but now I really do think I am. I've found a f-family. I thought I had one before, but I didn't... not really. But now... I think this one is real. I... I know this one is real. And... and while they'll never be as good as you, they're better than nothing. They're... they're good to me. Too good. I... I miss you both so much. I love you. But it's time to let go. I... I am here to say goodbye."

After a few long moments of silence, Dick stood and turned away, feeling as if an invisible weight had lifted from his body. He felt lighter now; at peace. A faint smile spread across his lips as Dick walked down the hill to Bruce, letting the older male envelope him in a hug.

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, staring down worriedly at the boy, at his son.

Dick nodded, arms wrapping around Bruce's waist, returning the hug. "I... not yet. But... but this is a start. It... it's going to be okay.

Bruce tightened his arms around Dick, a true smile breaking out on his normally stoic features. "Good. That's good."

And it really was.

Because even if Dick was not fully fine yet, Bruce would be there to make sure that he would be eventually.

Because finally, finally, Bruce knew how to help.

Because, at last, Dick was ready to open his heart up to another father, and Bruce would be damned if he let him down.