#strays-verse

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For the writing meme thing. From the 'Strays'. When Bruce found out Tim was actually the missing Drake boy, you wrote that "Batman growled" and "Bruce ranted", he blamed himself for not having looked into the matter himself, for letting a boy in shock wandered in the street for so long. The shift of names, between Bruce and Batman, hit my heart. I read a worried father and a righteous vigilante worried about the two boys. That was beautiful.

Oh, I love that you noticed that! One of the things I really like about the Strays verse is the chance to really explore Bruce and Batman on a variety of levels. Since he often thinks of himself as at least two different people, I tried to make that shine through in my descriptions. Bruce and Batman are thus sometimes at odds in terms of their actions or thoughts, but they both care very much about Jason and Tim. 

Thank you so much for responding to the meme! It’s so nice to learn what struck home for you.

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Revisiting Strays

I honestly have no idea if anyone is still interested in Strays, but if you are, you may be pleased to know that I managed to write 500 new words tonight while also doing a fair bit of editing to part 13.

I had almost given up hope on finishing Strays, but I think I might actually be able to finish the last three or so chapters that remain. Which means I might also get to write the awesome side story that I want to write from Tim’s pov. 

[storiesintheashes]

Strays - Part 12

Summary: Batman is very happy with the way that Robin has picked up his training, his methods and his habits. Generally. But his protege showing up at the Batcave with two small children, Tim and Jason, clinging to him proves he’s adopted one trait Batman would have rather he hadn’t. It seems the batfamily has an incurable penchant for picking up strays, and Tim and Jason are only the beginning.

Fandom: DCU

Characters/Pairing: The Batfamily

Genre: Gen/Fluff/Angst

Rating: PG-13

Notes: Originally for this prompt from the yj-anon-meme, de-anoned and also available on both my LJ and AO3. I also owe a huge thanks to tigrislupa and foxfireflamequeen for beta-ing! Without them this chapter might not have made it.

Other Notes: It lives! I know it's been ages, but here's the long awaited Part 12 of Strays. It gave me no end of trouble but it's finally done. I hope you all like it.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, and Part 11.

Paperwork and endless phone calls kept Bruce busy enough over the next few days that he was completely blindsided when shit hit the fan.

  A loud crash brought him back to reality.

  Bruce tensed and wondered if someone was attacking the manor, but no. None of the external alarms had been triggered. That didn’t necessarily mean that his home wasn’t under attack, but the noise had definitely come from inside. Had an intruder made it past the manor’s security? Were his boys okay?

  He took a steadying breath and got to his feet. Moving quickly and calmly, he left the study and followed the sound of a second crash down the hall. It didn’t take him long to find the source of the noise. The sound of yelling helped quite a bit.

  Although he listened carefully, he could only make out Dick and Jason’s voices. No one else’s. That meant the probability of an intruder was somewhat lower. Some of the building tension slipped off his shoulders at this realization even as he continued walking toward them. The closer he got closer, though, the more words he began to make out. What he heard spurred him into a run.

  “…just leave me alone. I hate you. Go away you stupid bastard!”

  That was Jason.

  “Jaybird, calm down,” Dick pleaded as Bruce burst into the room.

  Bruce took in the scene before him with trained eyes. The shattered pieces of an expensive, antique, porcelain vase littering the floor evidenced the source of the first crash. Some of the furniture had been pushed out of place. One of the oversized chairs was lying on its side and quite a few baubles had fallen to the ground. In the center of the room stood his boys.

  Jason’s face was flushed a blotchy red, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. His hands were balled into fists at his sides as he continued to shout a string of obscenities at Dick, who was bouncing with anxious agitation halfway across the room from the smaller boy.

  Dick glanced away from Jason and caught sight of his guardian. “Bruce!” he exclaimed.

  Jason jumped in surprise and whirled toward the doorway.

  Bruce floundered. He’d never had to deal with something like this before. Dick had broken things and made messes especially when he first arrived at the manor, but those incidents had not carried such a charged and fearful air to them. He knew that the vase had been broken, probably by Jason based on the presumed trajectory of the vase from its original position and where Jason was standing. Beyond the facts of the situation, Bruce had no idea what the boys were fighting about. Or what he should do about it. “Boys, what happened?”

  Tension seemed to bleed from the young acrobat at those words, but if anything Jason became even more agitated.

  “Stupid asshole wouldn’t fucking back off!” Jason snapped. “That’s what happened. It wasn’t my fault.”

  “Language, Jason,” Bruce rebuked the boy almost without thinking; he was far more concerned with trying to figure out how to fix whatever had gone wrong. He did not expect Jason’s response to his words.

  Jason took a deep breath. “Fuck you!” he yelled. “Fuck you, fuck you! You’re not my mom and you don’t get to tell me what to do!”

  Bruce tried not to wince. He hadn’t meant to – he wasn’t – why had Jason taken his words that way? It didn’t matter. He needed calm Jason down. Cautiously, Bruce took a few steps into the room. “Jason, I know I’m not your mom. We’re doing everything we can to find her. Please calm down, you’re not helping – ”

  The boy was practically shaking. “No! You can’t make me! You can’t!”

  “Shouting isn’t going to solve anything.” Bruce tried to keep his tone reasonable and relatively even, like he was talking to a hysterical victim. He knew how to deal with victims. But Jason…Jason wasn’t a victim, or at least he wasn’t a recent victim. This wild and desperate anger was completely random and utterly baffling. Bruce had no idea what to say, but he knew it had to be something. “Now please calmly tell me what’s going on.”

  “What’s it look like?” Jason asked snidely.

  “It looks like a fight,” Bruce said seriously. “But I hope I’m wrong. I thought you both knew better. Dick certainly does.”

  “Bruce, I wasn’t –” Dick began, but Bruce didn’t let him finish.

  “I’m talking to Jason, Dick.”

  Jason scowled. “You know what? Fine. Big Bird couldn’t keep his big nose out of my business. And so I threw things at him.” Every word was an attack. “Is that what you wanted to hear? I’m a good-for-nothing kid and I can’t be trusted! So… so why don’t you just get rid of me?” the boy demanded furiously.

   “Jason, no. That’s not…” Bruce struggled to find the words to express that getting rid of Jason was the last thing he wanted. But the boy didn’t give him time.

  “Leave me alone!” Jason shouted as he dodged around Bruce before running out of the room, leaving Bruce and his ward in awkward silence.

  ***

  That was the first warning sign, but it was certainly not the last.

  Jason became increasingly volatile, and nothing Bruce did seemed to make it any better. If anything, everything he said just seemed to make Jason angrier.

  Two days after the first tantrum he came upon Dick and Jason actually throwing punches at each other in the blue parlor.

  Or rather, Jason was throwing punches. Dick was dodging and trying to talk Jason down. Dick’s easy evasiveness just seemed to be egging Jason on though.

  “What on earth is going on in here?” Bruce demanded.

  The boys sprang apart.

  “Bruce!” Dick cried in surprise. He had been so busy ducking he hadn’t noticed Bruce’s entrance. Hmm, they would need to alter the boy’s training regime to focus on situational awareness again. “Hey. What’s up? Jason and I were just horsing around a bit.” Bruce noted the transparent attempt to protect Jason from getting into further trouble.  

  “This doesn’t look like horsing around,” Bruce noted dryly.

  “Cause it isn’t,” Jason muttered, crossing his arms sullenly.

  “Jason!”

  “For God’s sake, fuck off, Dick!”

  “Jason, that’s enough,” Batman growled.

  Jason’s face flushed and his face contorted as he yelled, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  Dick slowly reached out toward Jason, perhaps to lay a comforting hand on the younger boy’s arm. Jason whirled to face him. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled and swatted Dick’s hand away. Then he shoved Dick with both hands, sending Dick stumbling backward.

  “I’m sorry,” Dick said softly, his eyes wide and sad.

  Bruce frowned. This had gone on long enough. He stepped forward, intent on… he didn’t know. Something. At least he could separate them. Or shake some sense into Jason.

  But the moment he was close enough to actually do something beyond stand there like an idiot, Jason flinched away from him, raising his small hands to cover his suddenly terrified face.

  Bruce froze.

  “Jason, I would never hurt you,” he said reassuringly. The words felt hollow in his mouth. He was a terrible parent. How could he have screwed up so quickly?

  The boy burst into tears. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” The words started as nothing more than a whisper but got louder with each repetition until the he was shouting. Then he ran out of the room.

  Bruce wondered if he should follow, but quickly decided against it. His presence would only make things worse. Lord, what could he have done differently? Bruce ran that thought through his mind as he absent-mindedly patted a strangely quiet Dick on the shoulder and went to find Alfred.

  ***

  Alfred recommended talking to the boy. And Bruce tried. He really did. But he didn’t know what to say.

  Each time he spoke to Jason the boy either started yelling or crying.

  There was nothing Bruce could do, not for Jason and not for Tim. Tim’s problems needed time to sort themselves out. But Jason…? Bruce had not planned for these outbursts, and he didn’t know how to deal with them. If he didn’t do something, he would never be made Jason’s permanent guardian.

  That was why he tried to get Jason started on his tutoring. He had hoped that the lessons would prove a distraction at least and perhaps even be fun for the boy. That had been one of his biggest mistakes. Rather than calming the boy and giving him something to focus on besides his missing mother and Tim’s absence, the lesson seemed to push Jason over the edge.

  Barely half an hour into the first lesson, the tutor ran out of the parlor in tears. Meanwhile, Jason disappeared. Security footage showed that the boy had climbed out the window of the first floor room. The boy remained outside for the rest of the day, only slinking in once everyone else had apparently gone to bed. The next morning Jason showed up to breakfast, but threw a tantrum at the table, upending his bowl of oatmeal onto Dick’s head.

  Feeling frayed and worn by the constant tension in his home, Bruce finally snapped and shouted at the boy. He regretted that moment of weakness even more than the tutor.

  Jason hid for the rest of that day, too.

  The day after that Jason broke one of the hall mirrors and nearly cut himself on the broken glass.

  That evening, after yet another tantrum the boy was hiding on top of an antique armoire in one of the spare bedrooms.  Unfortunately the wardrobe had recently been emptied by Alfred who had begun cleaning it out the previous day. Jason dozed off on top of the armoire, but was startled awake by the sound of the doors of his hiding place being opened. In his surprise, the boy flailed and sent the wardrobe tumbling forward. It was only Alfred’s lightning fast instincts that saved both the man and the child, the butler somehow managing to leap out of the way and catch Jason at the same time.

  Though neither had been seriously hurt and even though he knew it had been an accident, the incident was almost too much to bear. Watching that footage again and again on his computer, Bruce could not stop thinking about what might have happened if Alfred had been a little too slow. The thought made his heart ache with worry.

  It was now or never, he needed to take extreme measures if he had any hope of fixing this.

  ***

  Bruce found Alfred in the kitchen, attempting to ply Dick with fresh cookies just recently out of the oven.

  It didn’t seem to be working very well. The young acrobat looked wilted, slumped dejectedly at the counter. He barely paid any attention to the cookies.

  Bruce frowned. He hadn’t realized how badly the situation with Jason was affecting Dick. He should have realized. Jason’s tantrums were a strain on Bruce; it was no surprise that Dick too would be upset on his stray’s behalf. Bruce took a deep breath and nodded gravely to himself.

  Whatever Alfred and Dick were talking about, they quieted when they caught sight of Bruce lurking at the entrance to the kitchen.

  “Dick, can I have some time with Alfred? We need to discuss some important business.”

  Normally Dick would have argued. He hated being left out of interesting conversations. Instead the boy just shrugged, got to his feet and wandered off without so much as a backward glance or skip in his step.

  Bruce frowned at his ward’s retreating back, but set aside his concerns. Jason needed to be his priority right now. “I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” he said, slipping into his ward’s recently vacated seat at the counter.

  “You’re ready to admit defeat?” Alfred raised an eyebrow at him as he offered Bruce a cookie.

  Bruce waved the offering away. He considered the butler’s question. He didn’t like the word defeat. “I’m not giving up,” he said, then sighed. It pained him to say the words even to Alfred. He said them anyway. “But I need advice. What should I do?”

  Alfred was silent for a long time before finally admitting, “I do not know.” Bruce didn’t think he’d ever heard those words from his old friend’s mouth. “It appears we may be out of our depth,” Alfred said.

  Bruce snorted. “That’s an understatement.”

  Alfred took a tin out of one of the tall cabinets and began placing the now cool cookies inside of it. After he had placed two rows of cookies he asked casually, “How is the plan progressing?”

  It took him a moment to understand that Alfred was referring to the plan to rescue Tim. He didn’t want to think about that right now. Didn’t he have enough on his plate? No, that was unfair. Tim’s situation and Jason’s uncontrollable behavior were tightly linked. Unfortunately, the only thing they could do for Tim was wait. “You know as much as I do,” he said tiredly.

  Alfred frowned. “Something must be done and soon, for the sake of both of those boys. It’s only a matter of time before someone from CPS comes to see how Master Jason is getting along here.”

  “I know.”

  “I think you also know what to do.”

  “I really don’t,” Bruce protested, hunching his shoulders slightly under Alfred stern gaze.

  “But you do know who to ask.”

  “I asked you, didn’t I?”

  “This is not my area of expertise, believe it or not,” Alfred said wryly as he finished placing the last row of cookies in the tin and closed the tin.

  “I didn’t think there was anything outside of your expertise.” The words were said jokingly, but Bruce believed them. Alfred knew everything.

  “Be that as it may, you may find it more helpful to talk to a professional. You do have Doctor Singh’s phone number.”

  Bruce’s stomach sank.

  “I don’t want to ask her,” he said. He wasn’t whining. He was too old to whine.

  Alfred pursed his lips and gave the man he raised a stern look. “Are you really going to let your pride prevent you from doing everything in your power to help that boy?” he asked.

  Bruce had known what Alfred would advise even before the question was asked. It didn’t mean he liked the answer any better for having it confirmed. Still, Alfred was right. Alfred was always right. And Bruce would do what he had to do.

[storiesintheashes]

Are You Ready?

The time is upon us.

[storiesintheashes]

Not to get anyone's hopes up, but I just edited the first draft of chapter 12 of Strays. It needs one more edit before I'll post it, but I thought I'd let everyone know in case people are still interested even though it's been over a year since I last updated that story. OTL

Anyway, the chapter remains one of the most difficult I've ever written. I don't like it very much, but it's a thousand times better than it was thanks to tigrislupa's wonderful beta-ing.

[storiesintheashes]

Strays Side Story: The Nesting Habits of Robins (and Other Assorted Birds)

Summary: In theory they all have their own rooms. But Bruce has stopped expecting them to actually use those rooms accordingly.

  Warnings: Contains references and allusions to nightmares, some more real than others.  By which I mean, contains references and allusions to child abuse, child neglect, starvation, attempted rape, death and grief. I swear this is a happy story.

  Also, there are Strays verse spoilers here. (If you don’t know what the Strays verse is, it’s a YJ AU in which Bruce ends up adopting all of the batfam. Read it here.) I’ve tried to minimize spoilers, but a few were unavoidable, particularly for the next part or so of the main storyline.  If that bothers you, I suggest waiting until I’ve posted those parts to read this.

  I owe foxfireflamequeen a big thank you for beta-ing and helping me get this story finished.

  And finally, this fic is a very, very, very belated birthday fic for the amazingly wonderful and beautiful tigrislupa who has been extremely patient with how long it has taken me to produce this behemoth of a fanfic. (Weighing in at about 11,000 words, this 30 page fic is basically a mini Big Bang minus the artwork. OTL )  Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this, my dear. Happy belated birthday!

7.

  Alfred surveyed the room before him with a fond smile.

  He had hoped that encouraging the children to spend time with Bruce would have this effect.

  Master Bruce had managed to injure himself even more spectacularly than usual, after all. Alfred would be forgiven for resorting to less than honorable means of ensuring that his charge actually took the time to heal appropriately.

  Six pairs of puppy dog eyes was hardly a tactic approved by the Geneva Convention, but it had gotten the Master of the house to lie still for an extended period of time. The fact that the children were able to use the opportunity to corner their father into watching a movie marathon with them was only fair considering the scare he’d given them with his most recent stunt.

  Alfred pulled out the camera that young Timothy had given him as a birthday last year. The butler had taken to carrying the camera around with him to capture just these sorts of serendipitous moments of family bonding. Long gone were the days of having to make due with poor quality security footage stills to preserve these moments for posterity.

  He snapped a quick picture of the seven sleeping children on the bed. In the center of the pile of bodies was Master Bruce, an arm and a leg each bound up in plaster. On one side of him lay Richard, Cassandra and Damian. On his other side was Jason, Timothy and Stephanie. All of them were cuddled as close to Master Bruce as they could get without crushing their father’s injured limbs.

  He slid the camera back into his pocket. Then he set about closing the curtains, turning off the television and fetching enough blankets to cover his family. He draped the blankets over the dreamers and turned off the already dimmed lights.

  “Sweet dreams,” he said softly to his slumbering family, before he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  2.

  Jason woke with a start, heart pounding in his chest. It was probably the second, though maybe the third time he’d awoken that night.

  He didn’t know what had frightened him into wakefulness; the fragments of his dream were already slipping away. But he was cold and his arms felt empty. The room was big and very, very dark. He felt sick.

  He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow.

  He hadn’t been able to sleep through night since the mean lady and the stupid man took Tim away.

  He felt jittery all the time, like there were bugs crawling under his skin. His throat always felt tight and his stomach felt heavy, like he’d swallowed a rock and it was just sitting there now. Weighing him down.

  During the day he could fight. He could push and make noise and see for himself that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t forgotten. Not yet. During the day he could see he wasn’t the only the one hurting. But at night…

  In the dark it was just him. Just him and no kid. No one to hold or protect. Just him and the shadows creeping across the floor.

  He closed his eyes tightly against the soft cotton of his pillowcase.

  It wasn’t fair, he told himself. Jason should never have let Robin bring them to this place. It was a bad idea. They’d been better off on the streets. Safer.

Jason had seen the way Tim looked when he was with those, those people. It wasn’t the same as the extra kids that sometimes stayed with Mrs. Soto. The ones with the bruises and the wary eyes. And it wasn’t like the little girl who’d lived down the hall from him and his mom a few years ago. The gaunt, too small child with the hungry eyes.

  It wasn’t the same. Not exactly.

  But Jason wasn’t stupid.

  He wasn’t stupid but he couldn’t do anything.

  Jason had promised to protect Tim. He’d given his word. The kid was his responsibility. Not Bruce’s or Mr. Alfred’s or Dick’s or those people’s. Jason’s.

  He banged his fists silently against the mattress in frustration.

  Water welled up in eyes. Stupid. So stupid. Everything was stupid and fucked up. He pressed his face harder against the pillow. He wasn’t going to let himself cry. He wasn’t a baby.

  Jason rolled over onto his back and kicked off the covers. They were too heavy and not warm enough. He hated the blankets and the mattress and the pillow. He hated it all. Because he’d much prefer to be sleeping out in the cold with Tim than being in here without him.

  A strange sound startled him out of his anger.

  Freezing, Jason listened carefully. After what seemed like an eternity, the sound came again, an eerie moan. He’d never heard anything like it before and it was coming from somewhere outside his window.

  The boy sat up and pulled his knees to chest. Was the manor haunted?

  No. There was no such thing as ghosts. Real ghosts, anyway. Just people playing tricks.

  The manor creaked ominously.

  Jason held himself tighter. He missed the familiar sounds of the city. This place was both too quiet and too loud. It was awful.

  The horrible sound came again and before he had time to think about what he was doing, he’d leapt out of the bed and run for the door. Once he was in the hall he stopped.

  What was he doing? Where was he going?

  He didn’t know and that just made him feel worse.

  Cautiously he took a step. The floor gave an echoing groan beneath his weight.

  Jason paled and took off down the hall. He ran past the room Tim had been supposed to use when he’d been there and threw himself at the next door down. The door opened easily and Jason ducked inside as quickly as he could, shutting the door behind him. He paused just inside the room and leaned back against the shut door.

  He’d never seen Dick’s room before. Even in the dark he could tell that it was as big as the room he’d been given. But this room was clearly well lived in if the dark lumpy shapes of knickknacks and the various odds and ends littered around the room were to be believed.

  Closing his eyes, he hung his head and wondered what he was doing sneaking into Dick’s room like this. The older boy would think he was such a baby if he found out. Jason should leave before Dick woke up.

  He turned around and reached for the door knob.

  “Jaybird?” a tired voice mumbled.

  Too late.

Jason hunched his shoulders and wondered if Dick would believe this was a dream.

“Jay…?” Dick sounded incredulous, but annoying hopeful. So earnest.

  He reluctantly turned back to face the older boy and was dismayed that Dick was sitting up. He didn’t say anything, though. Didn’t know what to say. He was embarrassed that he’d run here, but he couldn’t shake the fear of the sounds and his dreams enough to want to run.

Dick did nothing for a few moments before he silently lifted up the corner of his bedcovers invitingly.

  Jason scowled, but found himself reluctantly walking across the room toward the bed.

  Even in the dark Dick’s smile was obvious as the older boy scooted back to make room for Jason. At least he didn’t make any jokes. Jason wouldn’t have been able to handle it if he did.

  Jason climbed onto the bed, but he didn’t feel comfortable at all. He crouched at the very edge of the bed nervously. This had been a bad idea. He didn’t know what he’d thought Dick would be able to do. Dick wasn’t his mom or Tim or anyone.

  Dick made an abortive motion with his hands. Jason stared at him.

  “Sorry,” Dick said. “I. Do you – ” The older boy gestured awkwardly.

  Jason frowned. He wanted to pretend that he didn’t know what Big Bird wanted. But Dick was painfully predictable. Before he could think better of it, he let himself nod very slightly.

  That was all the encouragement Dick needed to pull him into a bone-crushing hug.

  Dick was very good at giving hugs, Jason admitted reluctantly. He’d never tell Dick that out loud, but…he’d missed Dick’s playful attempts to hug him these past days. He hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed it until then.

  Jason closed his eyes and let himself hug back just as hard.

  “It’s okay to cry, Jason,” Dick said quietly.

  “‘m not crying,” he tried to snap.

  He was, though. His eyes were burning and he was getting Dick’s pajamas all wet.

  “Oh, Jay…”

  A humiliating sniffle escaped his throat and he clutched the older boy tighter. He used to be so good at crying quietly, but he hadn’t needed to cry much recently. Not since he’d started taking care of Tim. He was probably out of practice.

   “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ll protect you.”

  Jason was so used to being the one to say those words. He liked being the one to say them. And yet –

  It was nice to hear them, for a change. It was nice to feel…safe. Even if it was a lie.

  There were so many things bubbling up inside of him along with his tears. His head spun with thoughts of his mom and the dreams and the noises and the darkness. But none of that really mattered.

  “I want Tim. I want him back.” The words are muffled against Dick’s neck, but they’re there. And they’re right.

  “I know, I know. I do too.”

  “You. You don’t understand. He’s my resp-responsibility. I left him alone. Who knows what tho- those people are doing to him . I – ”

  “It’s gonna be okay, Jason.”

  The platitudes that had been so comforting only moments ago were suddenly intolerable.

  “No. No it isn’t,” Jason hissed. “Everyone says that. My Mom says that. All the time. But it wasn’t. I’m not stupid. She was lying to make me feel better.”

  Dick said nothing, but he held Jason tighter. It was infuriating.

  “It’s not fair. It isn’t. We were doing just fine without you and that stupid bat.” Jason realized that he was being too loud. But he didn’t care. “And your fancy, fancy stuff. I want to go home. I want Tim.”

  “I know. I know.”

  Jason laughed harshly and pushed away from Dick. “Oh, so you know? Fine. If you know. If you’re on our side, prove it. Let’s rescue Tim. Right now. Come on.”

  “Jason, we can’t do that.” Dick was being reasonable. Jason hated it.

  “Why not? You’re Robin aren’t you?” Robin sounded like a curse word on his tongue. “Should be a piece of cake for the boy wonder, shouldn’t it Big Bird?”

  “I want to save Tim too, but that would be kidnapping. It’s wrong.”

  “But it’s okay for them to hurt him. That’s right.”

  “It’s different. It’s not fair. I don’t like it. None of us do or should. But they’re his parents.”

  Jason snarled. “And that makes it okay. I hate you. You’re as bad as them.” He turned away from Dick and climbed down from the bed. It had been a mistake to come here. He should have known better than to trust Dick.

  “Jason, wait.” Dick grabbed the hem of Jason’s shirt.

  “Don’t touch me.”

  Dick didn’t listen. If anything he held on harder. “It’s not easy. Things like this never are. But you have to know that Bruce wants to help Tim. We all do. We’ve got to trust that Bruce’s plan is going to work. We can’t do anything to mess it up.”

  “So you always do what the Big Bat says, huh?”

  “No. Not always. But this isn’t in the field,” Dick said. “This is really delicate Jason. Their world, Bruce’s world. It’s different than other places. I don’t always understand it myself, but sometimes, winning doesn’t always look like winning and losing doesn’t look like losing.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Jay. Jaybird. Bruce will get Tim back. He will. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but he will.”

  Jason whirled back around. “It’s been over two weeks, Dick. How much longer are you going to keep believing Bruce is magically going to pull through?”

  “As long as it takes. Bruce always pulls through when it matters.”

  Jason scowled and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “You’ve sure got a lot of faith in the caped crusader man.”

  “No,” Dick said.

  “No?”

  “I have faith in Bruce.”

  “There’s no difference.”

  Dick shrugged. “To me there is.”

  Jason snorted incredulously. “I don’t understand you at all.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll be honest, I don’t get you either. But we’ve got time, don’t we?” Dick smiled hopefully. “We’ll figure each other out.”

  Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling back. It was hard to be mad at Dick.

  That was all the encouragement Dick needed to reach out and pull Jason into another hug.

  “Things look bad now, but it will be better in the morning. Everything’s always better in the morning. And before you know it Tim will be back and everything will be perfect,” Dick promised.

  “If you say so,” Jason said doubtfully.

  “I do say so.”

  Jason tried to shrug off Dick’s hold. “Whatever.”

  “Come on. Don’t leave. Stay with me,” Dick pleaded.

  “Why should I?” The question was petulant and he knew it.

  “‘Cause.”

  “That’s not even an answer, Dickface.”

  Dick laughed and hugged him tighter.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Jason grumbled.

  “You haven’t called me that in ages.”

  “You’re such a weirdo.”

  “But I’m your weirdo, right?”

  He could say a lot of mean things in response to that. He was too tired to bother, though. Being angry at night was hard work. “Since I’m stuck with you, I guess so,” he grumbled.

  “Aww, Jaybird. I love you too.”

  “Just shut up and let go of me. I’m tired.”

  Reluctantly, Dick released his death grip on Jason. Rather than leaving, Jason crawled back into the bed and let Dick pull him back into another hug.

  All things considered, Dick was if nothing else very good at giving hugs.

  Jason would never, ever admit that. But that didn’t stop him from hugging back.

    5.

  She sat in the corner farthest from the door, knees pulled up against her chest as she waited.

  The old man had led her here. His body was calm and efficient. Not angry or intimidating. Dangerous, but no harm meant. Safe for now. She was supposed to wait. So she did.

  She was glad to be away from all of the people. All of the mouths spilling noise, redundant and silly beside the clear messages of their bodies.

  Anger-frustration-fear-love, not at her, for him, for brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector who held her hand and promised safe-shelter-keep.

  She sat and she waited, images flashing through her mind. Thoughts of white walls, metal and loneliness. Thoughts of pain-love-expectations. Thoughts of blood and death and pain and fear and running, running, running.

  She was very tired of running.

  Coming here was a blur. A blur of fear and hope and promise. Everything moved so fast, but now that she had stopped. Stood still, she felt lost. Small. Tiny even in the concrete cage, even after so long being insignificant under a black, open sky.

  Footsteps.

  She tensed.

  But no. It was only brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector.

  She relaxed.

  There was a knock at the door. She did not move.

  Another knock.

  She did not understand what brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector was trying to tell her. Mouth sounds were confusing enough, but thumping on wood was equally meaningless to her.

  Another knock.

  She got up and went to the door. She opened it as brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector’s fist was raised in the air to knock once again.

  She tilted her head to the side, questioning. The teen rolled his eyes. His body said annoyed-fond-happy-safe-defiant-playful.

  He looked into the place she had been waiting. He made sounds with his mouth and his body said annoyed-concern and then decisive-beckoning.

  He held out a hand to her, eyes speaking of kindness and safety.

  She took his hand and let him lead her away from the room. They walked down the hall, past rooms she recognized from her walk in the previous direction until they came to one particular door.

  He opened the door, revealing another room. There were bright pictures on purple walls. The floor was littered with clothing and other objects.

  Her eyes darted back and forth, taking everything in before they settled on the bed. One of the people from before was perched on the bed. The girl on the bed turned and smiled. Her long blond hair swished as she waved in greeting. Her mouth made sounds and her body said nervous-happy-determined-careful-excited-bright-bright-bright.

  Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector led her further into the room. She was unsure, but not afraid. The boy was safe and the girl was wonderfully bright. She was not alone.

  She climbed onto the bed, but the boy did not follow. He stood and made sounds at her and the bright girl. His body said protective-reluctant-respectful-retreat and the girl’s body spoke of understanding-trust.

  Her eyes widened and her hand shot out. She caught his wrist and held it tight. “No,” she said. It was one of the few sounds she understood. “No.” He could not leave her. Not again so soon. She clung to his hand trying desperately to communicate need-comfort-stay-trust-safe.

  He understood. She saw the moment his body shifted, before he made sounds to the bright girl and she made sounds back. He nodded and his posture shifted, conveying decisive-determined.

  He got onto the bed, but she did not let go. She knew he would not run, that he was decided. But his hand was warm and real and there and she did not want to lose that.

  She was content to sit there holding Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector’s hand, but the bright girl quickly became restless. She shifted back and forth on the bed before sighing loudly and flopped herself down on the bed. The girl smiled, teasing-tired-cautious-brave, and patted the bed inviting-open.

  She tilted her head to the side, evaluating the bright girl. There was no anger or danger or lie in the other girl’s body. None at all. So she copied the bright girl and lay down on the bed.

  The bright girl grinned wider, the corners of her eyes crinkled and honest, and reached out her hand.

  She took the hand in her own. Felt the softness despite the callouses, the training in them. She smiled.

  The bright girl laughed before her gaze swung up to Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector, who was still sitting upright. She allowed her gaze to follow the other girl’s and frowned at what she saw.

  Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector sat too straight. The tension spoke to her, telling her he felt uncertainty-cautiousness-protective.

  She frowned. She did not understand what was wrong. She was happy. She wanted him to be happy too. But how?

  Laying down had helped, she remembered. The bright girl had the right idea.

  She tugged sharply on Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector’s arm, pulling him down beside her.

  He squawked, like a startled bird.

  She laughed at the sound, at the expressions of his body. The sounds came out of somewhere deep inside of her and filled her with warmth.

  Brash-but-courageous-loyal-protector chuckled and tightened his grip on her hand. All uncertainty had washed away from his posture.

  She was glad.

  Curled between the bright girl and the boy, she began to release the tension in her body. The room was not completely safe, no, never, but safe enough, warm enough. She could let go.

  She felt the bed beneath her. Soft. So soft. Like a cloud and not like alleys and hard ground and drafty, empty places. Nice and soft and warm and not alone. Good. Very good.

  The bright girl started making sounds again, but she sounded different than she had before. The sounds went up and down, rising and falling in strange, but beautiful patterns.

  She turned her head to look and saw that the bright girl’s mouth was closed.

  The sounds continued. They were – they were – like the noises that sometimes came floating out of cars or open windows, from boxes of various sorts or strange things held by people standing on street corners.

  She did not understand those noises either, but they were not bad. She hoped one day she might get a chance to know those noises. Maybe the bright girl would teach her. That would be nice.

  She smiled and curled closer to the bright girl, pulling the boy along with her. The sounds wrapped around her and assured her she was not alone.

  She slept.

    3.

  Tim stared up at the ceiling of his room.

  He closed his eyes, and then opened them again. He blinked. He sighed.

  The boy rolled over and plucked the stuffed rabbit from where he had left it, perched on the bedside table. He flopped onto his back and held the toy over his head with both hands.

  Frowning up at the stitched face through the darkness, Tim wondered what he was supposed to do with the thing.

  He hadn’t understood the point of stuffed animals when Dick had introduced him to Mr. Snuggles the Bear a few weeks ago and had made the mistake of voicing his confusion.

  The resulting whirlwind trip to the toy store had been equally baffling. Dick had dragged him to and fro, piling Mr. Wayne’s cart high with enough bears and lambs and cats and dogs and monkeys to fill up Noah’s Ark three times over.

  Jason had been no help at all, egging Dick on the entire time. Tim hated when they ganged up on him. He was terrible at telling them no, especially when it was both of them at once.

  Tim had tried to explain that they didn’t need to go to so much trouble for him, he tried very hard. Unfortunately, that had made the contents of the cart double.

  And Mr. Wayne never said a word about it. The man had just smiled fondly and pushed the cart wherever Dick directed him.

  Tim finally came to his senses only minutes before they headed to the cash register. He had realized that he couldn’t stop them from buying the toys, but knew that damage control was definitely possible. Thinking quickly, he managed to convince Dick that he couldn’t possibly “take care of” so many stuffed animals at once. (He still didn’t grasp how exactly one “took care of” an inanimate object filled with stuffing, but he had managed to pick up a few things from Dick’s angry rants on the car ride over to the store.)

  Dick had been skeptical, but Tim managed to whittle him down to only a handful of animals. The rest had thankfully gone back to the shelves where they belonged.

  Tim had returned to the manor with a plush rabbit, a stuffed tiger and an old fashioned teddy bear. Jason had been cajoled into picking out a monkey and Dick (who already had a stuffed companion) left with an expansion pack for one of his card games.

  The trip to the store had been exhausting and far too over-stimulating for Tim’s tastes, but it had not been the end of the stuffed animal debacle. Oh no. It was just the beginning.

  Dick and Jason, but mostly Dick, threw themselves into teaching Tim the wonders of a good stuffed animal. However, despite their best efforts over the past few weeks Tim still didn’t see the point. Yes, the animals were soft. The rabbit (Bunny?) in particular was quite nice to touch. Yes, the creatures were… cute? But they didn’t do anything.

  They were the very definition of childish. He could only imagine what his mother would say if she ever caught sight of one of them.

  Tim’s fingers tightened around the rabbit’s stuffing filled body.

  He frowned at himself and relaxed his hold on the toy. He almost threw the toy away, but managed to stop himself. If he threw it, he’d just have to go and get it. Then he’d be even more awake than before.

  Biting his lip thoughtfully, Tim turned his attention back to the nature of the stuffed rabbit and away from more complicated things.

  It did not take long for him to get caught back up in the problem before him. Tim wrinkled his nose. He was dubious of the magical properties apparently imbued in all stuffed creatures. Dick believed it, was emphatic about it, but while that was usually enough for Tim to suspend disbelief, this was a bit much.

  Even if magic did exist, he didn’t see why anyone would sell magic animals in a normal toy store unless they were bad people that needed a stern talking to from Batman.

  The boy sighed. He’d been lying sleeplessly in his bed for almost two hours now; at this point he was he was willing to try anything no matter how crazy it sounded.

  Cautiously Tim lowered the rabbit to his chest. He carefully wrapped his arms around the creature and held it tight to his body.

  The rabbit’s fake fur was soft to the touch and its body was just the right amount of squishy. The animal had a very high level huggability according to Dick. Tim could sort of see what the older boy was talking about.

  But it still wasn’t the same.

  Maybe he was doing it wrong?

  He shifted his grip on the rabbit, trying different positions and varying how tightly he was clinging to it.

  Nothing.

  He wondered if time made a difference. Maybe he just needed to hold it for a long time.

  Tim held the rabbit in what he figured was the optimal hugging position and counted the seconds in his head. But after five, ten, fifteen minutes nothing changed. He was still holding a few wisps of stuffing contained by fabric and string.

  Try as he might, the rabbit had not magically transformed into Jason.

  He wasn’t sure if he had really expected it to, but it had been worth a try.

  Tim closed his eyes and hugged the toy even tighter to himself.

  He hoped Jason was okay. Mister Pennyworth had promised that Jason would be okay, but adults lied all the time about all sorts of things. Just because Mister Pennyworth hadn’t lied to him yet didn’t mean the butler wouldn’t.

  What – what if Jason didn’t get better?

  The thought settled like a stone in Tim’s stomach. He shook his head firmly. Ten different online sites had assured him that mortality rates for streptococcal pharyngitis were negligible.

  Jason would be fine.

  Almost definitely.

  That didn’t make falling asleep without Jason any easier.

  Every time he was close to falling asleep, he’d jerk awake and panic. Visions of blood and metal and smoke flashed before his eyes, the cold of the streets closed in and Jason wasn’t there. And always, always there were two colorful bodies falling, falling, falling and someone was screaming. He wasn’t –

  And then Tim would think he was home, in his parents’ house again. Alone. And everything that had happened in the past few months wasn’t real, just a story he made up for himself.

  That wasn’t true. It had happened.

  He clung to the stupid toy rabbit and wished for the nice little box and for Jason and he -

  His eyes burned.

  Tim took a deep breath. And another. He wasn’t going to cry. No. He refused to cry. Jason would be disappointed in him. His mother –

  He would not behave so childishly.

  He’d just gotten too used to having someone there when he slept. That was all. He used to be very good at falling asleep by himself. Maybe. Maybe he should just read himself another book? That sometimes helped.

  But he didn’t want to read; he wanted his brother.

  Tim rolled over again and buried his face in his pillow. He missed Jason. He missed having Jason curled up next to him, real and just there. He could always fall right asleep when the older boy was around, and it was even easier on the nights when Dick would join them after patrol –

  Dick.

  The thought gave Tim a pause.

  Dick was brave and strong and amazing. He gave the best hugs. He was a hero. He was probably worried about Jason too. Maybe Tim could –

  Tim clambered out of bed, but he was only halfway to the door of his room when doubt struck.

  But. But what if Tim was bothering him?

  Tim turned around and scurried right back into bed. He didn’t want to annoy Dick. His hero didn’t deserve that. And, and what if Dick decided to leave? Or, or what if he told Bruce to send Tim away?

  No, Dick wouldn’t do that. Dick was too nice for that. But. But still…

  Jason and Tim were always welcome in Dick’s bed and Dick even sometimes snuck into Jason’s room after patrol. But Jason was always there. Would Dick want Tim just by himself?

  Tim curled up in a ball on his bed and fiddled with the ears of his stuffed rabbit. He considered how Dick might respond to a late night intrusion into his room. The more he thought about the more confused he became until all he wanted was to throw himself into Jason’s arms and not think for a while.

  But Tim wasn’t allowed to see Jason right now because Jason was contagious. And that left him right where he started and, and –

  No crying.

  Indecisiveness was a very bad thing. His mother had always been very clear about that. So, so Tim just needed to decide. He could either lie awake all night or he could go down the hall and knock on Dick’s door.

  Tim got out of bed again. Just as he was about to leave his room, he noticed that he was still holding the ridiculous toy in his arms. He waffled for a moment before turning back and returning the rabbit to the bedside table. He almost climbed right back into bed as another wave of doubt overtook him, but he refused to go back on his decision.

  Before he could give in to uncertainty Tim walked briskly out of the room, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides.

  He paused for only a moment in the hallway, glancing through the dimness at where he knew Jason’s room was. He considered going there for a moment. He didn’t mind getting sick, not really. But Mister Wayne and Mister Pennyworth would get mad and Jason would probably be sad if Tim got sick.

  Resolutely, Tim walked in the opposite direction of Jason’s room. He didn’t have to go very far.

  The boy stopped awkwardly in front of Dick’s door. He brought his hand up to knock, but couldn’t bring himself to actually rap on the wood. What if Dick was asleep? Tim didn’t want to bother him. Then again, he couldn’t just stand there, could he?

  Tim gently rapped his knuckles against the door. He knocked so softly that he made barely any noise at all.

  Still, he drew his hand back and listened expectantly. There was no sound from within the room. He frowned to himself and tried knocking again, a little bit louder this time.

  …No response.

  He was loath to be any louder. All the resolve in the world couldn’t stop him from worrying about waking Dick up. Dick needed his rest. Robin needed his rest.

  Tim considered the problem seriously. There was only one thing for it. He would just have to open the door and check if Dick was asleep or not. Before he could remind himself why this was a terrible, very rude thing to do, he grabbed the door knob and opened the door.

  The room was dark. That made it very difficult to see whether or not Dick was even there in the first place. Tim didn’t know where else the older boy would be but in his bedroom at this time on a school night, but he didn’t have any way to be sure from where he stood.

  Tim hovered awkwardly in the doorway for a few minutes before he found his resolve and tiptoed into the room, slipping the door shut behind him.

  As he got closer to the bed he could definitely make out a lump in the covers. The likelihood of the lump being anything or anyone but Dick was very small.

  Heart sinking, Tim turned away. Dick really was asleep. Tim should go before –

  The floor creaked beneath Tim’s feet.

  Dick made a muffled sleepy noise and a head appeared from beneath the covers.

  “Sorry,” Tim whispered and tried to flee.

  “Baby bird?” There went his chances of Dick thinking he’d just dreamed this. The boy stopped and stood nervously with his back to Dick. This would be so much easier if Dick had a lock on his door and used it like Tim’s parents did. That way Tim wouldn’t have bothered coming here at all. He’d gotten too used to Jason, to thinking someone might actually –

  “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I’ll go.” The words spilled from his mouth as he tried to make himself move again.

  The bed creaked. “What? No, no. Don’t go. What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

  Tim licked his lips and tried to think of an answer. Nothing was wrong. He was okay. Jason was also okay. Tim was just being childish. Immature. Embarrassing. He was perfectly capable of sleeping by himself. He wrapped his arms around himself.

  “Nothing,” Tim said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Before he could take a step toward the door he found himself being pulled into a tight hug from behind.

  “You. You don’t need a reason to sleep over with me. You know that right?” Dick said quietly.

  Tim shifted from side to side, resisting the urge to lean into the hug. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, none of that, mister.” Dick squeezed Tim a bit tighter, lifting the smaller boy up off the ground for a moment. “It may be late, but I’ll still tickle you until you take that back.”

  “S – Uh, I’ll try not to?”

  Dick released Tim for long enough that Tim could turn around, then he pulled the other into yet another hug.

  This time, Tim couldn’t help but melt in the face of a proper Dick-Hug. Dick really did give the best hugs. Better even than Jason-Hugs. Tim felt terrible for thinking that. But Dick had always given amazing hugs. Even. Even to perfect strangers. Tim was never supposed to talk to strangers, but he was very happy that his parents had let him meet Dick so long ago. No one had ever hugged Tim like that. With all their heart. Like, like Tim was important and right just the way he was.

  Despite all of the terrible things that came after that one perfect hug, Tim didn’t regret it. He held the memory of that moment close to his heart.

  “Do you want to stay over?”

  Dick’s words knocked Tim from his thoughts.

  He shrugged. “Is it okay? I mean, I’m not Jason. And he’s not here. So…”

  Dick let go of Tim and placed his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Timmy. Timmers, you’re always welcome in my room. No questions asked. I’ll never turn you away. That’s a promise.”

  Tim stared blankly up at the older boy. He heard what Dick said, but he wasn’t sure that Dick really meant it. Or, maybe Dick did believe it, but that didn’t mean it would always be true. Sometimes people locked their doors or just, just left. Or he’d get annoyed and regret that he said Tim could come in. Or he’d forget. It was what people did. Even Jason was probably going to leave him, though Tim was pretty sure Jason wouldn’t leave by choice. At least Jason wouldn’t forget about him.

  “Really?” Tim said finally.

  “Yep. You’re always welcome here with or without Jay at any time of day.” Even in the darkness Tim could tell that Dick was smiling. The older boy grabbed Tim’s hand and tugged him toward the bed. “Anyway, sleepovers are fun. And it’s nice not to fall asleep alone. A good cuddle makes for good dreams.”

  Dick pulled Tim onto the bed, under the covers and into another hug. “Did you know that Alfred cuddles?” Dick whispered conspiratorially.

  “He does not,” Tim retorted incredulously. He could not imagine Mister Pennyworth “cuddling”. The old man gave very good hugs, but cuddling was far too undignified for a person like the Wayne butler.

  “He does so. Bruce does too, if you get him at the right time. He’s a very comfy pillow.”

  Tim wasn’t sure how to respond to that declaration so he didn’t say anything.

  After a while, Dick spoke again, but his near constant humor was strangely absent. “I get lonely too, sometimes,” he said softly. Tim could not imagine how it was possible for someone as bright and amazing as Dick to be lonely. “People weren’t meant to be separated by so much space, especially not family.” The sadness in Dick’s voice was unnerving. Tim didn’t know what to do. “And. Well, I’m glad you came over. I’m worried about Jay too.”

 “He’ll get better though, right?” It was stupid question. He knew Jason would get better. But he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“You bet. He’ll be right as rain before you know it.”

  Tim squirmed a little in Dick’s arms until he found a comfortable position with his head buried in the crook of Dick’s neck.

  “Tell me a story,” Tim mumbled before he could talk himself out of it. He liked the stories that Dick made up even if they were very silly sometimes. And they were always distracting. Maybe that would help cheer Dick up too. “Please.”

  Dick released Tim to clap his hands in excitement. “A story? Oh, I have a good one.”

  “Already?”

  “You bet!” Dick’s voice was already sunnier and that made Tim happy.

  “Once upon a time a star fell out of the sky.”

  “Stars don’t actually fall, Dick,” Tim pointed out automatically.

  “Hush you. I’m telling the story and in my story stars can fall. And, and the sun and the moon climb ladders to get up to the sky. That’s how it is, Baby Bird.”

  Tim thought about protesting, but he was far too comfortable to bother.

  “As I was saying,” Dick continued. “Once upon a time a star fell out of the sky. It fell and it fell and it fell until it landed with a great big boom. Not long after a little boy who was walking through the forest found the star. The poor star was tarnished from the fall and very lonely.

  “The boy looks down at the star, and he knows it’s a star because it’s obviously a star, even though it isn’t where it’s supposed to be.

  “‘What are you doing all the way down here?’ the boy asks the star.

  “‘I fell,’ the star says sadly. ‘I want to go home. But it’s so high up; I don’t know how I’ll get there.’

  “‘Don’t worry, the boy says. ‘I’ll help you,’

  “And so the boy picks up the star and brings her home…”

  Tim’s eyelids began to droop. He lost track of the plot of the story about the star and the boy. Instead he snuggled closer to Dick and let the older boy’s words wash over him.

  The last thought he had before he drifted off was that Dick was so much better than a stuffed animal.

    6.

  Damian was…uncomfortable.

  He should not be, but he was.

  Only a few days ago he had chosen to go with Richard Grayson and claim his place in his father’s house.

  But things were not as he had expected. The lavishness of the house was to be expected, but the style was different than he was used to. Too foreign to be truly welcoming.

  He would adjust to that. He was an al Ghul and a Wayne, after all.

  The real problem was that as far as he could tell, in his father’s house there was no discernible hierarchy amongst the members of the house. There was no line of succession, no endless procession of backstabbing plots. Even more unnerving, there were no real rules at all. There were not even any tests, or at least there had yet to be any tests that Damian was aware of.

  This made it extremely difficult to understand his place.

  He had seen and had actually spoken with his father every day since Grayson had carried him here. Nothing Damian did seemed to either increase or decrease the time he was allowed with his father.

  It confused him and he wished someone would explain why he was being rewarded so lavishly. He did not want to fail a hidden test and lose the wonderful privilege he had been granted.

  Damian watched the other successors, the ‘Flock’, with great care and tried to determine from their actions what would be expected of him.

  Nothing. He could understand nothing that they did. If there was a hierarchy it changed too often for him to grasp its true structure. And their behavior…they alternated between disrespectful and respectful at a near constant rate. Perhaps worst of all, they were so open and affectionate without reason, even with Damian, and he just didn’t understand.

  But he had not understood things in the past as well. That was what learning was for. He was on high alert at all times, watching for tests and traps. When it was time for him to be tried, he would not fail his father.

  Before bed every night he combed his room for traps. He had not found any yet, but he would not allow himself to become careless. He could only imagine how disappointed his father would be if his only son was brought low by something as basic as a bedtime trap.

  He was in the middle of checking the air vent in the ceiling when his routine was disrupted by Grayson plucking him down from the ceiling by the back of his shirt.

  “Whoa, what are you doing up there Little D?” Grayson asked with a stupid smile on his face.

  “Release me, imbecile,” Damian snapped. “I need to finish.”

  “Finish what? It’s bedtime. And hey, no name calling squirt. It’s not nice. I did after all come all the way up here to check on you before I head out for patrol. I wasn’t expecting you to be playing spider monkey.”

  “I am not playing.”

  “You’re not?”

  “No. I am securing the perimeter.”

  Grayson frowned and finally set Damian down on the floor. “Dami. I thought you said you weren’t playing.”

  “Tt. I am not.”

  “Then what is ‘checking the perimeter’?”

  “Are you brain damaged?”

  “Well, despite what Wally says, I don’t think so.” Grayson smiled. He always smiled and it bothered Damian. There were serious things that needed to be done. Grayson should not be smiling about it.

  “Then you know what checking the perimeter means.”

  “I know what it usually means, Damian. But you’re safe here. You know that, right? No one is going to attack you in your room.”

  “Of course they are,” Damian said.

  Grayson opened his mouth and then closed it. The teen was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Dami, who do you think is going to attack you?”

  Damian shrugged, noticed he was slouching and made himself stand upright. “I am unsure. But tests are an important evaluative tool. So perhaps Father or Pennyworth would be testing me. However I would not put it past Brown to attack me in an attempt to show me my place.”

  Grayson knelt down on the floor and pulled Damian into a tight hug.

  Damian stiffened and stood awkwardly in the embrace. Grayson had insisted on this odd ritual at least a few times a day, Cain and the others had also occasionally joined in, but Damian was still not sure how to respond to it.

  “No one’s going to test you or, or show you your place.” Grayson’s voice was strained. “That’s not how things work here.”

  Damian felt sick. What was he not understanding? Would his father be angry at him for not understanding? “How. How do they work?”

  “I. There aren’t.” Grayson pulled back from Damian, but rested his hands on the younger the boy’s shoulders. Grayson’s blue eyes were serious and sad. “If you’re going to be tested, we’ll let you know, okay? We’ll get you ready for it. That’s a rule, Dami. No one breaks it, not even your dad. Okay? And no one, no one will ever attack you or try to hurt you as some kind of test. Sparring and training have a time and a place and we will always tell you when and where. And, no matter what that time is definitely not bedtime. Do you understand me?”

  No. “Yes.”

  Grayson sighed. “You’re worse than Tim used to be.”

  Damian scowled. “I am not – ”

  “I mean,” Grayson cut in, “you don’t believe me. Tim never used to believe me either.”

  Damian did not know how to respond to that. So he said nothing but a frustrated, “Tt.”

  Grayson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Right. Well. There’s not much I can do to convince you tonight. C’mon, Little D, you’re sleeping in my room tonight.”

  With that Grayson scooped Damian up into his arms and carried him out of the room.

  “Put me down Grayson. I need to finish checking the perimeter of my sleeping quarters,” Damian protested, but he did not struggle. It would be pointless. Grayson was much stronger than he was, after all. He would need to bide his time and plan his escape carefully.

  “Yeah, no. Not happening.”

  “Grayson, Father gave that room specifically to me. It is his will that I sleep there.”

  Grayson snorted. “Bruce’s ‘will’ is not exactly law, kiddo. More like guidelines, really. And when it comes to sleeping arrangements no one here actually sleeps in their own bed very often.”

  “They…don’t?” Damian’s plans of escape stumbled to a halt.

  “Nope,” Grayson said as he waltzed into his bedroom.

  Grayson leaped across the room, did a flip in midair and landed neatly on the bed, all with Damian still held in his arms.

  “You’re getting too big to be jumping on the bed like that, Dick. Alfred’s going to be disappointed at you if he has to replace your bed again this year.”

  Damian had to turn his head awkwardly to see that Drake and Cain were curled up in Grayson’s bed holding some type of book between them.

  “Aw, don’t be mean Timmers,” Grayson pouted. “I was just too whelmed about Damian joining in on our sleepovers.”

  “What is a ‘sleepover’?” Damian asked.

  “Sleep together,” Cain said simply. “Birds like in nest.”

  “It means Dick is going to use you as a teddy bear,” Drake added helpfully, before glancing questioningly at Grayson. “I thought you were going out tonight, though.”

  “Um yeah, about that,” Grayson said. “Dami needed me. So I’m staying in with you two. You don’t mind us cutting in on your bonding time, do you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “More merrier!” Cain held out both her hands. Much to his consternation Damian found himself being passed from Grayson to Cain like an inanimate object.

  “Tt. Unhand me, Cain.” He said with a scowl.

  Cain just laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “Story time,” she said. “Very good.”

  Damian blushed, and for some reason allowed himself to be manhandled so that he was wedged between Drake and Cain.

  “Hey, is there any room for me?” Grayson asked.

  Drake and Cain said “Duh” in unison, prompting Grayson to plop down beside Cain.

  “What’s the story Baby Bird?”

  “We’re starting the first book of the ‘Protector of the Small’ series, since Cass liked the Song of the Lioness quartet so much.”

  “That was the one about the girl who disguised herself as a boy to become a knight, right?”

  “Yeah. This one is – ”

  “Sh. Story,” Cass interrupted impatiently.

  “Sorry Cass.”

  And then Drake began reading from the book. Every now and then Cain would pipe in and stumble through the dialogue of a character, usually the lead character, Kel.

  Damian didn’t really understand the purpose of what they were doing. He could read by himself in four languages and he knew for a fact that Drake and Grayson were perfectly literate even if Cain was not. He could understand the practice as an exercise of some sort for Cain, but that did not explain the enjoyment the others were clearly getting out of it.

  “‘You’re supposed to have real weapons when you go after something that’s twice as big as you are,’ he told her mildly. ‘Didn’t the Yamanis teach you that?’”

  Still, Drake’s voice did have a nice rhythmic quality to it and the story itself was not too terrible. He should probably go back to his room, finish examining it for traps and go to bed. But Grayson had said it was okay for him to be here, had he not? Besides, Drake and Cain were here, so it was unlikely that Grayson was attempting to mislead him...

  “Ander’s sighed. ‘Do you realize it’s going to be hard? Maybe impossible? They’ll make it tough…’ ”

  And if he happened to be properly warm for the first time since he came to this frigid part of the world…well, that was no one’s business but his own.

  “‘They are the swords given to the children of the fire goddess Yama,’ a lady-in-waiting beside Kel said, awe in her soft voice. ‘The short sword is the sword of law. Without it we, are only animals. The long sword is the sword of duty. It is the terrible killing sword.’ Her words struck a chord in Kel that left the little girl breathless. She liked the idea that duty was a killing sword. ‘Without duty,’ the lady continued, ‘duty to our lord, to our families, and to the law, we are less than animals…’”*

  He did not remember falling asleep.

  4.

  The lock on her door was more of a comfort on some nights than others.

  It was funny that a stupid piece of metal could make her feel safe; especially when she knew that every single person in the manor could pick it or break it if they really wanted to.

  Steph knew they wouldn’t. She knew that no one would come into her room at any time if she didn’t explicitly invite them. (At least that was what they promised her.) She knew that even if they did she knew enough self-defense now to be able to fight them off long enough that she could run away. She knew that she was given a bedroom with a window overlooking a very sturdy tree so that even though her obnoxiously big room was on the second floor, she would never feel trapped.

  Some nights that was enough.

  But other nights it wasn’t.

  On other nights she felt like she was drowning in the room that could fit three of her old bedroom inside of it. All of the stuff around her was too much and not enough. It didn’t make her mother any less gone and it didn’t blot out the shadows that her father and that man cast in her mind.

  On those nights she left the door unlocked because it was the distance that was killing her, not the closeness.

  They never talked about it, but since the very first night she slept over at the manor, somehow Tim always knew when it was one of those nights. She never had to wait long after bedtime for a barely audible knock on her door.

  She would answer the door, peeking around the edge of the doorframe just to make sure it was him. It always was. She didn’t know what she would do if it was anyone but Tim at her door. She liked the rest of the family well enough, but they weren’t safe. Not like Tim was.

  “Are you okay?” Tim would ask softly in the darkness.

  She would shake her head no and let him in.

  Together they would crawl into her bed and talk in whispers about anything and everything until the phantoms left her alone and her eyes drifted shut without permission.

  She would sleep all the way through the night and wake up in the morning with Tim curled up in her arms like an oversized teddy bear. Those were good nights.

  Tonight was one of those nights, but something was wrong.

  She waited and waited but although her door was unlocked, there was no quiet knocking sound.

  One hour after bedtime, the room was threatening to swallow her whole, but Tim wasn’t there. At two hours past bedtime she starts to worry. Steph had only been living in the manor full time for a few weeks, but Tim had never failed to be there when she needed him.

  Tonight was proving to be one of the nights she needed him most.

  But there was still no knock at the door.

  Finally she couldn’t stand the silence, the emptiness anymore. There was too much space in this stupid room for monsters to hide and her pilfered batarrangs were not enough to drive them off. And, the thought crept into the back of her mind, what if the monsters got Tim? What if that’s why he wasn’t here for her?

  Steph knew that she was being stupid. The monsters weren’t really there. They were just in her head. Doctor ‘Mika had promised her that was true in their sessions and the Doctor never lied about that kind of thing. She never lied at all as far as Steph could tell.

  But the thought wouldn’t go away. What if Tim was in trouble?

  She found herself out in the hallway before she could even finish running that thought all the way through to its terrible finish. She tiptoed down the hall to Tim’s room, a batarrang clutched in one hand.

  Tim’s door didn’t have a lock. (None of the bedrooms in the manor had locks except hers and Jason’s. Steph didn’t know why Jason’s room had a lock or if he actually used it. She wasn’t ready to ask him that yet.)

  She pushed open the door and peered inside. The room was empty. Even in the darkness she could see that the bed was immaculately made, completely unwrinkled, like it hadn’t been slept in at all.

  Her stomach sank and her fingers tightened around the batarrang. Panicking would not help. Panicking would make everything worse. Panic was unbecoming of Spoiler and of the new name she had already picked out for herself.  Sunbird was not afraid of anything, even if little Stephanie Brown was.

  But. But what would Sunbird do if her best friend went missing?

  The answer was obvious. Sunbird would find him and save the day! Steph whirled around to face the empty darkened hall, her batarrang held high and her chest puffed out with pride.

  Reality caught up to her quickly, though, and she paused. The day was rarely saved without a good plan. Tim was always saying that, anyway. So she needed a plan. A planny plan, even. She could do that.

  Where could Tim be if he wasn’t in his room? Steph bit her lip and looked up and down the hall. Her gaze caught on a half open door just a little bit further down the way.

  That was Jason’s room!

  Jason would know where Tim was. Steph grinned smugly to herself. She knew she could come up with an awesome plan!

  She padded down the hall as quickly as she could; only stopping when she was just in front of Jason’s room. It was then that she faltered. Jason was very nice to her despite the way they met. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t be mad at her for coming into his room, especially since his door clearly wasn’t locked or even closed.

  But -

   Steph took a deep breath and tried to ignore her nervousness. She was Sunbird, wasn’t she? She had said she was going to find Tim and that was she was going to do.

  That thought firmly in mind, Steph pushed opened the door a bit farther and stepped inside.

  And blinked. Squinted. Tilted her head to the side.

  Whatever she’d been expecting to find wasn’t this.

  In the darkness of the room she could just make out three lumps on the bed. The bigger one was definitely Dick. The one closest to her was clearly Jason. And the one she could only barely make out between them had to be Tim.

  She hadn’t known they all slept together like that. She should have though, shouldn’t she? (Some Spoiler she was.) It explained why Tim was so comfortable with their own little sleepovers.

  Steph blinked back the sudden wetness in her eyes and shook her head. She didn’t know why she was upset. She should be glad that Tim was okay. Now she could go back to bed like a big girl.

  “‘ey Ladybird.”

  She opened her eyes in surprise. There, she could see Jason’s eyes glinting at her in the darkness. “Jason,” she said softly.

  “‘sup?” the older boy asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

  “Nothing,” Steph said. “I was just, um, checking in.”

  “Uh huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her.

  “Yeah huh,” she said petulantly.

   Jason snorted and sat up a bit. “Whatever. C’mon.” He held out a hand. “Cuddles are free.”

  Steph had not expected that. Her first instinct was to take Jason’s hand. Her second was to run and her third was to lock her door tightly. But the thought of having to go back to her big, empty room filled with shadowy monsters was enough to help her make up her mind.

  Slowly, one step at a time she edged into the room. It took her an embarrassingly long time to make it to the bed, but Jason didn’t get impatient with her.

  “You okay?” Jason asked.

  Steph shook her head and Jason nodded in understanding. “Yeah. We’re all having a rough night, I think.”

  She didn’t have long to wonder what he meant by that because that was when Tim began to whimper in his sleep.

  Jason immediately turned away from her and began petting Tim’s hair murmuring soothing nonsense into Tim’s ear as he did so.

  “Are you sure there’s room for me?” Steph asked softly once Tim had settled down again.

  Jason rolled his eyes. “Have you seen this bed, Ladybird?”

  Steph’s hand tightened around the batarrang she’d almost forgotten she was holding. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know,” Jason said seriously. “And there’s always room for you if you want it.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I do want it.”

  Jason smiled. “Then climb aboard the express to dreamland. I’ll warn you though, Dick snores.”

  Steph snorted and clambered onto the bed. It took a bit of maneuvering but she found a comfortable place between Dick and Tim in what felt like no time at all.

  When Jason had offered to let her join in, she’d been worried it would be awkward or scary, but it wasn’t.

  If she was being honest, she’d never felt safer.

  1.

  The dark paneled walls loomed over him in the darkness. Shadows were everywhere and they were only made more frightening by the near constant booming of thunder in the distance.

  He felt so small, tinier even than he usually felt in these strange, foreign halls.

  More than anything he just wanted to go home. He just wanted the warmth and comfort of cramped trailers, the smell of hay and animals, and the feeling of his parents holding him tight.

  But wanting those things only reminded Dick that he couldn’t have them anymore.

  And that only made the shadows and the thunder that much more frightening.

  Dick wiped away the tears gathering in his eyes. He had to keep going now that he’d started. Otherwise he’d be trapped in the hall and nothing could be scarier than that.

  So he kept going. It felt like he walked forever and ever, but when he did finally get to where he was going he was so scared that he almost walked right past his destination.

  Well, at least he hoped it was his destination. The manor was so different at night, it was hard to tell.

  He was planning on entering quietly like a mouse so that he wouldn’t bother Mister Wayne very much. After all, Dick might miss his real home a lot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thankful to Mister Wayne for taking him in. But he wasn’t exactly sure if Mister Wayne was okay with offering protection from storms and…other things.

  His careful plan was destroyed when a roaring boom of thunder broke over the manor.

  Terrified, Dick threw open the door and charged inside.

  Mister Wayne stared at Dick in concern from where he was sitting up in bed with a book open in his lap. “Is everything okay, Dick?”

  “I. Um.” Another roll of thunder reminded Dick why he had barged into his Guardian’s room in the middle of the night. “I’m scared,” he said.

  “Of the storm?” Mister Wayne asked as he closed his book and set it on the bedside table.

  Dick nodded shyly. “Can I stay with you until it stops?”

  “Of course,” Mister Wayne said.

  That was all the invitation the boy needed. He dashed across the room and threw himself onto the oversized bed. “Heh,” he said cheerfully as he bounced a bit on the springy mattress. “This is almost as good as a trampoline.”

  Mister Wayne frowned slightly. “If you miss your circus equipment so much I could get you some. I really do want you to consider the manor your home, Dick.”

  Dick blushed and looked away. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

  “I would never think that of you.”

  “It’s just. This isn’t my home.”

  “I know.”

  Dick had not expected that. “You do?”

“Yes. I know I’ll never replace your parents and I don’t want to. I just want you to be comfortable. Comforted, if that makes sense.”

  Another roll of thunder derailed the conversation as Dick was too busy throwing himself into Mister Wayne’s arms to think about a response.

  He was clinging awkwardly to his Guardian’s neck for almost a minute before Mister Wayne’s slowly enfolded him in a hug. “It’s okay. The storm can’t get you in here,” the man promised awkwardly.

  It wasn’t the same as hearing his mom or his dad make similar promises, but it was close enough that after a few minutes he started to feel a bit better. “Thanks,” he mumbled into his Guardian’s neck.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “But it is,” Dick insisted. He pulled back far enough that he could pout at Mister Wayne. “Storms are very scary.”

  His Guardian smiled a strange small smile. “I’m scarier.”

  What an odd thing to say. No one was actually scarier than a storm, not in Dick’s experience at least. As Dick considered the question he caught sight of what looked like bandages peeking out from beneath the collar of Mister Wayne’s pajama top.

  “Are you okay?” Dick asked in concern. He hadn’t known Mister Wayne was injured.

  Mister Wayne looked surprised at the question, and that was especially strange because how could you forget that you were injured? Dick had twisted his ankle before and he’d hurt his wrist that one time. He had never once forgotten about his injuries.

  Mister Wayne brought a hand up to his neck and ran his fingers thoughtfully over the bandages. “Oh, this. It’s nothing.”

  “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

  “I’ve had worse, don’t worry.”

  Dick didn’t know why Mister Wayne thought that was at all comforting. He didn’t want to think about his Guardian getting hurt.

  “You need to be more careful,” he said sternly.

  Br – Mister Wayne looked amused. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You better.” Any further admonishments on Dick’s part were halted by a particularly bright flash of lightning closely followed by a horrible boom of thunder.

  Dick once again threw himself at his Guardian, but this time Mister Wayne was faster at hugging back even if he was still kind of weird about it.

  But Bru – Mister Wayne didn’t make him let go. And that was all really Dick cared about at the moment. Mister Wayne let him stay like that until Dick’s eyelids started getting heavy and he started to nod off against Mister Wayne’s shoulder.

  “Don’ go,” Dick mumbled sleepily as his Guardian started to shift beneath him.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting comfortable.”

  A few moments later Mister Wayne stopped moving and let go of Dick only long enough to turn out his bedside lamp.

  “Oh,” Dick said quietly. He tried to get up, but Bruce’s were still holding him tightly.

  “What’s wrong?” Mister Wayne asked gently.

  “Aren’t you going to sleep? I should let you lay down,” Dick explained. He didn’t really want to get up. Bruce was a good pillow. But he didn’t want to be selfish. Not when Bru – Mister Wayne was being so nice to him.

  “I’m not tired yet. But you can go ahead and sleep. I’ll be keeping watch.”

  Dick hadn’t known how much he’d wanted to hear those words until he did. “You will?”

  “Yes.” The words sounded like a vow.

  “You’ll scare away the monsters and the bad things?”

  “As much as I can.” Mister Wayne’s, Bruce’s voice sounded strange, but Dick was too tired to really think about that. “I’ll always protect you from the bad things in this world.”

  “Promise?”

  “I Promise.”

      *********

7.

  Alfred: Ageless Deity

  Dick: 20 years old

Cass: 18/19 years old

Jason: 18 years old

Steph: 16 years old

Tim: 15 years old

Damian: 8 years old

  2.

  Jason: 8 years old

Dick: 10 years old

  5.

  Cass: 14/13 years old

Jason: 13 years old

Steph: 11 years old

  3.

  Tim: 5-6 years old

Dick: 10-11 years old

  6.

  Damian: 6 years old

Dick: 18 years old

Cass: 15-16 years old

Tim: 13 years old

  *Quotes taken directly from First Test of the Protector of the Small series by Tamora Pierce (Pages 18, 20 and 22 specifically.) I owe a big thanks to willayork for suggesting Tamora Pierce for bedtime stories.

  4.

  Steph: 9 years old

Tim: 8 years old

Jason: 11 years old

Dick: 13 years old

  1.

  Dick: 8 years old

[storiesintheashes]

Hey Everyone

I need some bedtime story suggestions.

Basically a thirteen year old Tim is reading with a fifteen/sixteen year old Cass who obviously has a fairly low reading level.

So, favorite bedtime stories?

[storiesintheashes]

You know that horrible urge

To make an AU of your AU?

I have it. Strays isn't anywhere close to being done and I want to write a Daemon AU.

I'm already picking out names and hunting through descriptions of animals.

I don't have time for this sort of thing.