After his conversation with Dick, Bruce was determined to be better for his kids. He was going to be more open and he was going to be kinder. He'd done terrible things in the past and they'd plagued his mind yet it was only now that he felt the need to confront those things. That was an awful realisation but he wouldn't let those bad feelings deter him from changing. It wasn't fair on his kids that he wasn't going to address his own issues because they made him feel bad. Once Dick had dropped back off to somewhat restful sleep, he got out his phone and began researching therapists. Therapy. That was a new concept to him. He'd avoided it ever since he was younger and managed to weasel his way out of it by pretending he was better without. When his parents died, he didn't want to address the loss any further than his parents were gone. The changes were too much for him so he found it easier to rationalise everything. He was miserable for a long time after and perhaps he should've done more in those sessions but that was a while ago and there was no changing the past. He needed to focus on the present and the future. His research kept him up until the early morning but he was pleased with his findings. A therapist not too far from him who made sure everything was discreet and had many a PHD as well as co-writing some of the most influential literature in psychology was picked out. He made a promise to himself and to Dick that he'd call them in the morning when their office was open. This was rather late to change but he would change. He had to.

Dick woke up with a groan, a splitting headache attacking him the moment he was taking out of blissful unconsciousness. He panicked momentarily before remembering what had happened the day before. The bat. It took a minute to register the swing when Slade attacked him and a brief second before he felt the pain seep in. He'd felt the blood swell to the surface and spill over the edges. "Hey, it's a little early for tears chum," Bruce said, his voice having a soft rumble to it. Dick put a hand to his face and found that he was indeed crying. "What's wrong?"

"Head hurts," he replied softly. "Badly."

"You did take quite the hit. Can I quickly do a check?" The younger nodded as he began to wipe away the tears. "Follow my finger for me." Bruce moved his finger from right to left, up and down then diagonally and Dick kept up with a concentrated stare. Happy with the response, the older got up and walked to the bathroom where he fetched some extra-strength painkillers. He read through the packaging before popping out one pill and handing it over to the boy who looked rather puzzled with the gesture. "Uh B, I can't take this without water."

"Oh right. I'll go downstairs and-"

"Nah, I can drink from the tap in the bathroom," Dick suggested. He kicked off the covers and slipped off the edge of the bed, an action that was very adorable considering how high his feet were off the ground. Everything was far too big for him it seemed like he'd drank the shrinking potion in Alice in Wonderland. His clothes were too big too but that was to be expected when they suddenly had a nine-year-old in the house nearly twenty years after the first one. Well, this nine-year-old was the first one. God this was very confusing. "That's not drinking water," Bruce pointed out as he watched him toddle over to the bathroom with the pill in hand. 

"It's a water tap, right?"

"Yeah."

"And I can wash my face with the water, right?"

"Yes."

"So I should be able to drink it." The billionaire stood there for a moment. There was an element to logic there but then again, they could just go downstairs to get certifiably drinkable water. Yet by the time he'd come up with a reasoned argument, Dick had already put the pill in his mouth and chugged the water from the running tap. He tutted and moved to the drawers to find something for him to wear. "Don't tell Alfred you did that."

"Water is water." He chuckled to himself at his son's frankness. He was reminded of the time he had to tell the younger that you couldn't drink from the hose and how he'd reacted as though that was the stupidest thing ever said. Dick replied with the same sentence. He probably would now come to think of it. "B, I feel like I was run over by a truck."

"I'm sorry chum but there's not much I can do." Dick let out an aggravated groan but didn't complain much more about it. His head must be pounding, Bruce thought to himself. He'd received quite a few hits to the head in his time and the headaches were hell even with his developed high pain tolerance. They should take it easy today which was a concept completely foreign to him. A day off wasn't his thing but it would have to be because he knew his ward well and in doing so knew for a fact he wouldn't risk looking lazy in front of him. If Bruce was working, he'd be working. Sure he'd complain but he'd still work. Good dads take time off with their kids and he was trying to be a good dad so he'd just have to shove his workaholic mindset to the side. His kid needed rest and maybe he did too considering how hard they worked to get Dick home. Maybe everyone should have the day off. "You're gonna have to leave the room," Dick stated as he held up the clothes. It took a moment to click what he meant then Bruce nodded awkwardly. What was he doing just standing there like that? 

"Once you're dressed, come downstairs and we'll get you something to eat."

"Can I have pancakes?"

"You'll have to ask Alfred nicely." The younger nodded and Bruce left him to get dressed.

In the kitchen, Tim was sipping on his morning cup of coffee whilst Alfred cooked their breakfast. Everyone had their own preferences and since it'd been a stressful time, the butler decided he could spare the time to make their favourite things. "Morning," Bruce greeted. 

"How was he?" Tim asked, tilting his head upwards in the vague direction of Dick's room.

"Restless as usual but we uh we talked," the older responded. At the mention of a talk, both honorary Wayne's shot him a look. A talk could go one of two ways. The first was good and the second made a new hero persona. Given that he hadn't added that they weren't missing the kid nor had his voice held any bitter resentment, they assumed it was a good one but they couldn't be sure. "He put me straight so to speak."

"Oh, is that so?" Alfred commented.

"Yeah. I'm going to hold a family meeting about it but the short of it is I've let things get out of hand. I've always been your mentor but I've not been much of a father."

"You've had your moments," Tim assured him. "But your conclusion isn't wrong. We kinda did raise ourselves in a way."

"And I'd like to put that right." The younger hummed and drank the rest of his coffee. Clearly, he was unconvinced that this change would be one that stuck but that wasn't his fault. The number of times Bruce had moments of clarity only to fall back into his old ways were countless and seeing the cycle was a valid reason to remain sceptical. "I'll explain more later. How was patrol?"

"Nothing challenging although we did pick up a few stragglers." He raised an eyebrow at that before he glanced over at the countertop. There were more mugs out. Two more to be precise. "They're really excited about seeing him." Steph and Cass. 

"He was telling me last night that he has his older self's dreams as well as nightmares. He asked about them and Duke."

"I offered but he wasn't too into the idea. He did offer to look after the city for a bit. Something about solving Dick's daddy issues." He was trying to. Before he could reassure him that he would do everything he could, Dick came into the room rubbing his eyes. "Morning Dickie, how'd you sleep?"

"Blegh," the younger replied. "Alfie, can I have pancakes?"

"I'm already working on them, young sir. You deserve a treat for being so brave," Alfred told him. He smiled widely and hugged the butler's leg tightly. Alfred ran his hand through his hair, eyeing the cut they'd fixed up the night before and when he found no sign of infection he nodded to himself. "Have you taken anything this morning?"

"B gave me something to feel better but it still hurts," he answered honestly. 

"They'll kick in soon enough lad. Go sit down at the table and I'll bring your breakfast through."

"Thank you!" The boy disappeared as fast as he had appeared and the room went into a comfortable silence.

"I'm going to therapy," Bruce announced. The commotion at the breakfast table stilled. Tim and Damian even stopped arguing. They all stared at Bruce as though he'd grown another limb because if you knew anything about Bruce Wayne, you knew he didn't go to therapy. He was completely deadset on never stepping foot into a therapists office. Even Dick as the nine-year-old he was knew that this was a peculiar statement. "What?" Steph asked on behalf of the table. 

"I'm going to therapy," he repeated. He really didn't like how they were all so shocked by this and the guilt of not going any sooner hit him. Did he set the example that they couldn't go to therapy? 

"Like real therapy? With a qualified doctor? Not for undercover work?" Jason clarified.

"Yes. I've come to realize that my parenting of you all was insufficient and I've made many mistakes that I can't fix without professional help," Bruce explained. The room remained quiet so he continued. "For years, I thought I was doing at least the bare minimum but I didn't. I've not been a good father but I'm going to change. I'm determined to."

"Dick, did you kick him in the head last night?" Tim asked. 

"Could've done. Maybe he's getting sick."

"I'm not concussed nor am I sick. This situation has shown me that I've not been enough for you and I need to change that. I introduced you to a harsh and unforgiving business and the least I could do was offer the same support as any good father would but I didn't. It's late, I know but I hope that I can in some way make up for the lost time."

"I'll believe it when I see it," Damian commented, getting nods from the table. Bruce sighed but he couldn't hold it against them. He'd made his bed and now he had to lay in it no matter how uncomfortable it was. Their disbelief was justified and it was his job to show them that there would be an improvement. "Grayson's change has obviously given you considerable thinking time but you've promised change before."

"I know. I'll send you all the evidence you need to believe that I'm getting help," he answered. "As my first move in the right direction, we're having a day off. Until M'gann gets back there's nothing we can do and there's no point wasting our efforts. Dick's condition is also a factor." This seemed to trigger something in the boy who quickly jumped in.

"I don't feel that bad honest! It's just a little headache and I feel sorta achey but other than that I'm fine. You don't have to stop working, I'm sorry-"

"Dick, that wasn't a bad thing. You're allowed to recover. I'm sorry I've made you feel like you can't." Now that floored the group. A sorry? From Bruce Wayne? The Dark Knight himself? Publically? Without that guilt trip look? 

"Holy shit, he's serious," Steph muttered to Cass who gave her a disapproving look. "Oh come on. He's only nine for like another day I can't taint him that quickly."

"Don't underestimate yourself," Tim commented. "So if we're having the day off, can we do whatever we want?"

"Within reason."

"Yeah because I was gonna use my day off to kill someone," Jason muttered sarcastically. 

"Point is, you can do what you like," Bruce stated. It was slightly disappointing so see most opted to go back to bed but then he remembered that they hardly slept so he too would choose to have a nap. Cass chose to remain awake and moved towards Dick, smiling softly as he slowly signed to her. It was a sweet gesture but she swiftly assured him that she was partially mute rather than deaf. "Makes more sense," Dick hummed. "Wanna see if Alfred will make us cookies?" She nodded and he grabbed her hand, pulling her into the kitchen. Bruce watched with a loving smile. He was going to do right by them. He'd make sure of it.