follow up to the 8th day of Christmas one shot in this book, skip there if you don't remember but the basics of it is that Bruce said I don't have a son because he forgot about Dick when kidnappers called and Dick was incredibly hurt by that

this is a fat oneshot of 16000 words so good luck

Bruce and Dick had this little dance they did when they had a fight. It usually consisted of either apologizing before the other one had cooled down so everything got ten times worse or they both silently agreed they wouldn't bring it up again so they could carry on. They both preferred the second one because even though nothing was resolved, they could pretend without doing the work to fix things. Sure it was short-term and would eventually lead to another fight because they had unresolved tensions but life went by quickly. By the time they were both in a place to talk about it, something was already coming up and they didn't have the energy to work through it. 

They never did get around to talking about that day. Dick regretted what he said about Jason and Bruce regretted not realising sooner which son they were talking about. The fight had sent them back (although it wasn't like they were in a good place, to begin with) and created an untold rift between them that could be felt to this day. Even with all the time that passed, Bruce's words would always haunt Dick in the quiet moments they shared together just to remind him that what they had whilst it was an important type of platonic love, it wasn't the platonic love of father and son. He'd never feel that type of love again. At least, not on the part of the son as he could admit to himself that his relationship with Damian mirrored the father and son love that he'd desperately craved from Bruce. 

Dick never told Bruce about seeing Jason that night when he'd gotten home. He'd blamed it on the chloroform even though he knew better. He didn't say anything about how he spent days yelling at the version of the kid they'd lost, begging him to go away and stop talking before breaking down and asking forgiveness for what he said. When the apparition or hallucination - he still wasn't sure what it was - went away, he was left hollow as he faced that Bruce didn't see him as a son. He could only assume the man he'd considered a father only saw him as some little kid he saved from the system and got stuck with thanks to the vigilante game. Maybe he forfeited the right to be Bruce's son when he was fired? Or when he ran away? Or during one of their many fights when he brought Jason in and gave him Robin.

He was nothing like Jason. Maybe he had in the beginning but he wasn't near the end of his career as Robin. Jason was so ready to save the world and help people like himself but it wasn't just that. He had ideas for the future. Dreams of what he wanted to be aside from a hero. He liked literature and wanted to do a degree in it when he was older. Dick never thought that far ahead. All he knew was that in the future he'd be Robin and he'd failed at that. Sure he was Nightwing now but he still felt that burn of failure. Jason deserved a chance at that but he was dead so of course Bruce would see him as a son. The dark and almost selfish part of Dick's mind suggested that he should've been the one to die that night so that Batman and Robin could stay together. The Batman and Robin who were truly father and son. He'd never tell Jason that now. It would only bring about a whole new era of angst for the reanimated Robin as he grappled with the idea that even though Bruce loved him as a son he'd still failed to go against his moral code to kill Joker. That and he could only imagine that Jason would wave it over his head. 

Bruce in turn never told Dick how he'd been crushed by his failure as a parent that day. How he spent that night beating criminals mercilessly, his knuckles becoming numb from how hard he was throwing punches, just to make it up to the world who'd given him the gift to have two kids. An opportunity that he'd waste twice by failing to simply be there. He should've known. Once again, he'd failed his child and the damage was done. His stomach swirled with anger and despair because, in the end, he blamed himself completely. It was his fault that Dick had pushed him away in the first place, it was his fault that they'd grown apart both during Jason's time alive and in his death and it was his fault now that his child wondered if he'd even grieve as hard if he died. That one hurt. Alfred rubbed salt in the wound by berating him after overhearing the argument, telling him everything he should've done but didn't and insisting to go after him but Bruce refused. Instead, he indulged in the comfort Batman provided.

He was terrified that Dick would do something. He knew the acrobat had some anger issues to rival his own but he'd also taken on some nasty habits over the years. Namely being reckless with his own life. It normally manifested in going on patrol whilst out of it on his own, getting hurt and then not letting anyone know. Bruce wondered if it would be worth going to Bludhaven and making sure he wasn't bleeding out in some alley but he knew if they met this soon after a fight, everything would just get worse. Still, he kept tuning into any police transmissions he could find and kept the news on for any sign of his son. Dick wasn't Nightwing for a few days and he couldn't decide if that was worse or better. At least if he was out as a hero, Bruce could keep an eye on him from afar. He begged whatever higher being there was that things would work out between them because he wouldn't survive losing two sons. He barely survived losing the first.

Years went by and Bruce gained more kids. For a man who liked to work alone, he sure liked to bring in children. Yet even as the family grew Dick still felt like he was the odd one out. The one child who was only there because he was Robin and got too big to give back. Jason didn't want to be in the family but Bruce saw him as a son still despite their differences, Cass was certainly his daughter with how much Bruce adored her, and Tim was basically Bruce's son in every sense of the world aside from blood and Damian was the real deal being blood-related too. No one said anything but the acrobat wouldn't be surprised if one day someone turned around and asked why the hell he was there. If they did, he could only guess that it was because he hung around and helped out. Perhaps he reminded Bruce of an easier time. A time both of them longed for but could never go back to.

Being a Wayne or related to the Waynes was just about as hazardous as being a vigilante and to protect their secret identities, sometimes they had to go along with the attempts to extort money from the billionaire. Sometimes people never got out of the kidnapping business either. 

What started out as a day out in Gotham with Damian now turned out to be Dick and Damian being thrown in the back of a van and waking up in a cold apartment. It looked shabby, either from disuse or because it was abandoned. Both were possible given the grime that covered the walls and floors. They'd certainly been kept in nicer places whilst being kidnapped. Dick cringed at the tightness of the ropes, knowing that his own were cutting off circulation just enough to cause pins and needles. He looked around the room and found Damian beside him just out of reach. Other than that, they were the only ones in there. The younger turned to him with a huff and he couldn't help but laugh at him.

"This isn't funny. This is a total waste of our time."

"We'll be out eventually. They would've noticed us being gone for too long," Dick assured him. He couldn't tell the exact time but from the little light the blinds let in, he knew at least an hour had passed. Someone would've noticed by now that Damian wasn't picking a fight with one of his brothers. Plus a ransom call has likely already been made. 

"I'm not a baby, you needn't reassure me."

"What about de-assuring you?"

"What?"

"We'll never be found OOOoooOO." Damian fought hard to not smile at him. "I saw that!"

"You saw nothing. You must be hallucinating. Perhaps you hit your head."

Dick was silently thankful for Damian being there. It's not that he thought he wouldn't be saved if kidnapped because he knew that Bruce cared for him but it didn't stop the voice in his head reminding him it wasn't because he viewed the acrobat as his son. It was an obligation. With someone there with him, he could distract himself from getting to that point. He didn't have to sit there in contemplation that if he was any of the others, would rescue come faster?

After sitting there for a good while, three masked people entered the room each sporting a gun strapped to their waists. There was nothing that particularly stood out about them so they appeared to be the generic ransom callers. Dick would be lying if he wasn't slightly disappointed by how lacking they were. He could appreciate some razzmatazz.

"Your father has an hour to pay. Let's hope he pays up," the tallest of the three stated. 

"He won't pay," Dick stated. Bruce did on some occasions to buy time but never usually. Especially not for a little operation like this one appeared to be. "Maybe if you let us go now we'll call it even?" He knew they wouldn't but it was all part of the game they played to pretend this was something more than a hassle. 

"Oh, he wouldn't pay for you but we've got his actual son." He unconsciously flinched. "Did you think it hadn't made rounds about the incident years ago? When Batman had to come save you because your dad disowned you?"

"What's he talking about?" Damian asked.

"Nothing." It was strange how suddenly the anger washed over him. He'd spent years honing it to be a great motivator and practised control whenever he felt the inkling of it but now he felt it run cold through his body so quickly he couldn't think to reign it in. He hadn't wanted anyone else to know that Bruce didn't see him as a son. It was their business and no one else's. Now thanks to big mouth kidnapper, he'd be met with constant questioning about it. Knowing his luck, Damian would ask about it with Bruce within earshot and he'd have to sidestep around it awkwardly. It'd probably bring up some sort of argument.

"I wonder which sorry pump and dump gave birth to you," one of them muttered under their breath. They'd seemingly decided to go after their other captive as Dick desperately tried to squash down his anger. 

"You don't know fuck all about his mother," he snarled, cutting off whatever Damian's retort was going to be. Probably something you'd hear come from one of the rich ladies at galas whenever they walked in. He hoped he came off as a calculated and that this was a move to protect his brother from whatever punishment he'd get for talking back but really it was just an outlet. The simmering pot that was his anger was about to overflow and he needed something to release at least a little bit of pressure. Kidnapper 1 - he fondly named them Bigfoot because of their size - stepped forward and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up and squeezing tight enough to bruise. 

"Watch how you talk pretty boy, we're not above making a causality for this money." He grinned and threw his head forward, colliding it into the kidnapper's foreheard hard enough to make the man stumble back a few paces. A cackle bubbled out of him as relief flooded through him from finally being able to scratch that itch his frustration caused. The dull throbbing was a worthy price to pay for it. Well, that and the punch he got for his little stunt. It didn't stop him from laughing though. "Oh, that's it. I really didn't want to do this because your life is so pathetic I actually felt sorry for you but if you wanna act like a brat you'll be treated like one."

"Excuse me if I forget to shake in my boots."

"Oh you will be when Bruce comes to pick up his real kid and you'll be alone with us."

"Father will come for us both," Damian argued. That made Bigfoot chuckle. 

"Fortunately for us, we'll be long gone by the time he cares to wonder where he is. We'll get more selling him for parts than hoping your dad gives a shit." The acrobat hardened his gaze but in the back of his mind, he realized he was deep in the shit. If they were going to sell him off whilst they gave Damian back, it would make it much harder for him to be found in time. Bruce would want to see the safe return of his kid and a poisonous part of his brain said that he might not notice right away that he only paid for one or that he'd take a moment to debate whether there was any use going after him. He shook his head. No. Bruce loved him enough to not leave him to be chopped up for parts. Right?

---

When Dick and Damian were late home, Bruce immediately got a bad feeling. Sure Dick would be late from time to time but Damian usually kept them on track enough that it would only be a few minutes past their promised meet-up time. He wouldn't admit it aloud but he really needed his eldest to come home because he didn't know what to do with the bickering between Jason and Tim. He knew if he got involved one of them would end up angry with him and he couldn't tell who was in the right either since he hadn't heard the beginning of the argument. He knew he shouldn't be placing the pacifier responsibility onto Dick because after all, the acrobat was still his son but he was so hopeless at being the one to smooth things over. 

His phone rang and he kept his fingers crossed that it would be Dick telling him he was only a few minutes away. All hope of that drained when he was met with No Caller ID and a deep voice on the other side of the line that definitely didn't belong to the acrobat.

"Cute kid you have," they greeted. 

"Who's this?" he answered sharply, his tone grabbing the attention of Jason and Tim. 

"No one you need to know by name. See, I've got your kid and charity case here. If you want to see him again then you're going to come down to the docks in three hours with 30 million in cash." The line goes dead. It's so quick that he's frozen just for a second. A memory calls to him.

I have no son

The fight pushes forward until he's stuck in the memory of it. He feels that pang of guilt and the need to go back in time to fix everything. There's that sudden urge to call Dick up and apologize for everything but he always found some way to push it back down so he never ends up pressing the contact. He then goes over the wording the kidnapper decided to use in his head. He called Dick a charity case but called Damian his kid. Did Dick hear that? He didn't have time to dispute it but he would've if he could. Did he fuck up again?

"Bruce, what's going on?" Jason asked, sensing his anxiety.

"Dick and Damian have been kidnapped. I'm to meet them by the docks in three hours."

"The phone call would've been too short for us to track but I could try and find where they were taken from?" Tim suggested. "We could track the vehicle to wherever it ended up?" He nodded and the teen swiftly got to work.

"You look freaked out old man. Come to think of it, you always do when Goldie gets taken."

"Just some unresolved issues. Nothing anyone but either of us needs to know."

"Hey, I'm not prying. Just wondering why this run-of-the-mill ransom call has Bats shaking." He sent the young man a glare before going to help Tim. "Touched a nerve there." 

"Make yourself useful and check downtown for them." He wasn't going to fail his son again. He was going to find him before anything bad could happen and before Dick could ever think about not being Bruce's son.

Batman swooped into the apartment, immediately dodging the gunfire. He moved swiftly as they shot at him and swept their feet out from underneath them. Then he realised something odd. There was just one person shooting at him. If whoever took both his kids were to be successful, it could be a one-person gig. There had to be more people. He turned behind him to his sons and signalled for them to search the apartment. The pair nodded and hopped through the window, cautiously disappearing down the halls. 

A muffled noise caught his attention and he turned his attention to a cabinet. He frowned and approached it carefully, opening the door to reveal his son bound and gagged hunched in the corner. He quickly pulled the boy out and took away the gag, running his thumb along the red line the cotton had left. Damian was anxious, his shoulders up tight and his face a few shades paler than usual. To anyone else that would've been something they expected from someone who'd been kidnapped but this was Robin. Why was he so scared? In previous situations, he'd been more so annoyed by being tied up or generally inconvenienced by being stored away awaiting retrieval.

"What's wrong?" Batman asked, ignoring the way his voice wobbled slightly into that paternal tone he only used as Bruce. Before the teen could answer, Red Hood and Red Robin joined them. 

"There's no sign of anyone else. Including Dick," Red Hood announced. 

"Damian?" he prompted.

"You won't find him here. Two of them took him- I don't know how long ago but they said something about selling him. I don't know where I'm sorry."

No. 

"If you want to see him again."

Them. 

It should've been them. 

Batman should've caught that misspeak but he'd been hung up on the description of Dick rather than whether he was intended to be returned to him at all. His stomach swirled with guilt and he hardly heard his other sons enter the apartment behind him. Once again, he'd failed Dick in his most vulnerable moment. He felt his breath catch in his throat but powered through. To keep himself grounded and for practicality, he began to work on undoing the knots on the ropes around Damian's wrists.

"I need a visual on the van that brought them here. I'll interview the one they left behind, see if we can get some answers."

"Father, what they intended for him, I don't believe it will give us much time to work with." 

It took every skill Batman had learned to manage his emotions over the years to not panic at that. He wouldn't panic if it was Nightwing or at least not in the same way because he knew that Nightwing could fight back but this wasn't the hero who was taken. It was Dick Grayson who could only do things feasible of a billionaire's ward. Even though he'd gladly allow his son to risk their identities if it meant they would live, making themselves more vulnerable in the first place to fit a persona could make it hard to utilise their abilities any way. 

"Hood, take him home," Batman ordered. He needed all the help he could get. 

"Should we get the girls in on this? Last I heard, they were working on a lead that might help?"

"Better had do."

Half an hour prior to Batman's break-in, the kidnappers were muttering to themselves and playing rock paper scissors. Dick had been somewhat amused by the display but he was wary of what they were playing for. Whatever it was, none of them were up to taking it. He had to assume it was something to do with where he was ending up. Maybe they were selling him to a big-league villain and no one wanted to deal with them. Honestly, if it wasn't part of his job, he wouldn't touch any of them with a ten-foot pole.

He shuffled closer to Damian and hit him with his shoe. After his outburst, they'd both been gagged to keep them from sassing them which he viewed as a win. As much as a win could be when you had a dirty dishcloth in your mouth. Damian looked up from where he was boring a hole in the floor with his glare and softened when he landed eyes on the acrobat. His eyes seemed to concentrate on the bruising lump on his forehead and the blue splotch from the punch. It didn't feel great, Dick had to admit that, but he was putting up a good front for Damian. They weren't going to be returned together and he knew it was playing on the younger's mind already. He didn't need to make it any worse. All he could do was show him a little affection to remind him that he wasn't gone. Not yet at least. Wasn't that a depressing thought? A poisonous voice said Bruce wouldn't care but he would. The man couldn't say I love you but he could do things that said it for him. He cared. In his own way.

"Right then. We'll take him to the buyer and you stay here with the brat."

It was going to happen now? That wasn't a lot of time for Bruce to work with. Especially if wherever he was going wanted to kill him straight away. He swallowed thickly but maintained a strong front in front of his younger brother. The kidnappers turned to them. 

"I'd let you say goodbye but you'd probably bite me."

Probably. 

Two of the three went to either side of him, grabbing his biceps to bring him up to his feet.

"Try anything and we'll make sure the kid comes home more broken than he left. Got that?"

He nodded and they walked him out of the apartment. They were on the ground floor so it was a straight shot to the exit and into the back of the van that had taken him in the first place. His heart pounded against his chest and everything in him was screaming to fight back but he just couldn't. Not just for his identity's sake but also for Damian's. So he allowed himself to be thrown into the back of the van and let his head fall against the cold floor of it. 

I have no son.

It didn't feel right for it to play on his mind now but it did. He fell back into the memory to pass the time.

---

Doctors always creeped Dick out. He supposed it came from the plethora of villains running around with doctorates in anything and everything that now he couldn't trust the profession no matter how nice they seemed. Add in potential death by non-consensual overdone organ donation and you've got his current nightmare situation.

However long it took for them to get to wherever he was, it was enough time for Dick's arms to feel like jelly from how tightly they were bound. He couldn't hear any conversation between the kidnappers but he didn't know if that was because of the partition or because they weren't talking. Dick wasn't a fan of silence. Sure, his job needed him to be silent more often than not but he liked to break things up with chatter. He made quips during fights, muttered to himself as he worked on cases and hummed if he had the breath to during a workout. Yet he'd been plunged into silence throughout the whole journey and it had him on edge. Not only were they heading over to one of his nightmare scenarios but he couldn't even provide comfort for himself due to the gag. He could make noises but hearing himself gurgling behind the gag wasn't exactly his idea of comfort. 

I have no son

That phrase didn't help either. It didn't matter how many times he told himself to forget the sentence or reminded himself that it was years ago when they were going through a lot and getting through a rough patch with their innate ability to miscommunicate and blow up at any point. The words remained burned into the back of his eyelids and made his ears ring as they were chanted in his brain despite there being no real sound other than Bruce's voice saying those words so coldly. Trauma really did have a kick to it when you did nothing to resolve it but he'd rather the heavy blanket of that than the thick tension of being at odds with his mentor. 

The van came to a stop and he swallowed thickly. Dick had thought about how he'd die frequently over the years. He was buried alive at one point for crying out loud. He'd been put in plenty of situations where he had time to ponder over the question and mull it over. He'd always been a daydreamer too so he'd come up with an overly detailed picture of all the ways he'd die. Yet in every one of them he'd come up with he hadn't thought of this one. He'd thought of drowning, torture, blood loss, hypothermia, hell he'd thought of being thrown into space for some reason. Never thought of being chopped up for parts. Not even dying as Nightwing. There was something about that which made him feel particularly bitter but he didn't have much time to think it over before the van doors were opened and he was manhandled to his feet. 

The darkness of the van meant he'd been blinded by the last hour or so of sun and he only found reprieve when he'd been brought inside. Neither kidnapper spoke to him and he could guess that it may have something to do with who he was being sold to. They weren't the most experienced people he'd dealt with but they were certainly smart about it. They didn't wait around for some counteroffer to be made for Dick's life. No, they decided to take him now. He had to admire their boldness. 

They led him through a long hallway before eventually stopping at an elevator. From the brief glimpses at the walls and overall attire of the place, Dick guessed they were in some old sanatorium that was being done up for organ trade. He'd feel ever so slightly intrigued by the story of the place if he wasn't more caught up in the trauma of being kidnapped with the worry his father figure will just leave him for dead than anything else right now. They stood there for a minute or two until the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. 

Out stepped four people. Three wearing plain black clothes and sporting various scars. The typical henchmen type that Dick had seen thousands of over the years. Always say they're the best in the business but just have army experience and low morals. What really interested him was the person standing in the centre. They looked fairly normal for a black-market organ peddler but he guessed you still needed some sort of medical degree for the business. Their skin was pale as though they hadn't seen the light of day in at least a week although it could be accentuated by their raven black hair pulled up into a tight neat bun. In their hand a clipboard and pen. 

"I see you brought Mr Grayson. In good health I presume?"

"Nothing more than chloroform," one of the kidnappers explained.

"That's what I like to hear. Now, Mr Grayson, my associates here will be taking you to your residence for the foreseeable future. Oh Johnny can you do the honours?" In the space of seconds, the kidnappers were on the floor after two consecutive gunshots. He didn't even have time to move before two sets of hands replaced the previous ones. "I'm going to be running some tests on you, sir. Obviously, these are non-negotiable but I prefer to make my donors aware of their situations so I'll be explaining the tests when the time comes to it. Let's get you settled, shall we? Oh! Where are my manners? I'm Dr Roebuck." Dick was fucked wasn't he? He was left to depend on someone he couldn't trust with his full being even if he desperately wanted to. God did he want to. 

Dr Roebuck doesn't say much more on the way to his residence for his stay which is the very flowery language for saying his cell until they chopped him up. He couldn't get out any good quips either thanks to the gag so all he could hear was the tapping of footsteps as they walked. Eventually, they stopped outside a door and one of the bodyguards opened it up. Inside the room was small but not exactly cramped. It was relatively clean aside from the stains of blood on the floor from past inhabitants. He could guess where they were now. He was shoved inside and led to a medical bed. The henchmen kept a tight grip of him as they undid the rope to make sure he wouldn't try anything. In all honesty, he didn't mind if it meant he'd get the blood flowing back to his arms and the gag to finally be removed. He could feel where the gag had pulled at his skin and broken it, allowing the taste of copper to tinge his spit. They then handcuffed him to the rails of the bed and Johnny passed him a hospital gown. 

"Strip and put that on please then we'll start our tests. Boys, turn around to give our patient some privacy. I will also turn around. Give me a holler when you're done." At least he was dealing was sort of decent murderer organ donors. He waited for them to turn around before stripping down and putting on the gown. He was never a fan of hospital gowns. The material always made him feel icky even if he'd not gone into surgery and he hated how it was the wrong amount of revealing. Sure his ass was to die for but that didn't mean he wanted every Tom Dick and Harry to see it as bare as the day he was born. He made quick work of getting changed not wanting to spend much time naked.

"I'm ready."

"Good man," Dr Roebuck replied before turning around. "I must commend you for not being too weepy about this. Admittedly I was expecting more resistance. Perhaps a beg for your life once or twice." They didn't use that glib tone villains used when they wanted you to do what they noted you not doing. Instead, they seemed particularly happy to not deal with him like that. He guessed it could get grating after a while with how many they worked through.

"I've been taken enough to know none of that works so why try?"

"Smart. Now if you'll continue this good behaviour I'll work on the conditions you're being kept in. The boys will stay during your testing." He nodded and couldn't help but feel vaguely reminded of Dr Leslie and then quickly shivered at the comparison. She'd probably purposefully miss a vein to get back at him for it if he ever got the chance to bring it up to her. He hoped he did. "Sit down Mr Grayson. I'm going to take some blood to get your blood type as well as some other miscellaneous stuff I won't bore you with. Now, since you've been working with me so far, is there anything you'd like to declare to do with medical health? Missing anything already?"

"Got my appendix out a while ago," he responded. Maybe if he played his cards right, and got on their good side, he could buy his family more time. "Iron has always been on the low side. Everything else should be working fine." They hummed and scribbled it down on their clipboard.

"Any medications?

"I'm moving onto Prozac, used to be on Lexapro so might still be in the system."

"Thanks for letting me know. We'll be weening you off of that before I'm touching any of your organs with a ten-foot pole. My clients want the best of the best. I do feel I should inform you that once you meet my standards I'll find you a match and you'll be as good as dead as soon as I set the date."

"I could've guessed that one. How long do I have?" A morbid question but he wanted to know how realistic his escape would be if someone found him. No. When. They'd find him. It didn't need to be Bruce saving him for God's sake Damian had been with him. No matter how hard his brain tried to convince him that he wasn't worth his weight in gold in the family, Damian would do everything he could to find him. He'd be found. One way or another.

"Three days weening off your medication but finding you a match depends on your blood test. Queasy around needles?"

"I've been jabbed with enough of the fear to be non-existent."

"You've been living an interesting life, to say the least. Shame it came to this."

"Yeah, shame. Doubt you much care about that though, right?"

"You're just a sack of valuable squishy insides for me, unfortunately. Though perhaps I'm putting you out of your misery. Never daddy's favourite were you?" He bit the inside of his cheek so he didn't do anything rash. "Arm out Mr Grayson. You'll only feel a pinch. Then we'll have you put to sleep." 

"What?"

"Patients are much better when they're asleep. Lowers stress on the heart and such." If he wasn't fucked before, he was fucked now. He'd just have to lay there with no concept of time or space. Hell, he could die and not even realize it until the brain shut off for good. "You've gone pale. Was it the prospect of death or the needle?"

"Which do you think?" They hummed. "My family won't have anything to bury, will they?"

"I'll send them your clothes." Wow. Great.

---

It's crazy how many times someone will tell Batman that they can't under any circumstances admit what the scheme they're involved in is. You'd think at one point, someone would give everyone the notice that Batman already knew you were going to tell him the information he wanted. He wouldn't kill you for it but there was certainly a whole world of pain in between being alive and being dead. 

This particular kidnapper was going to learn that lesson the hard way. 

After two hours of ruthless interrogation, they got their answer and it had Batman's stomach churning. The kidnappers had made a deal with a black-market organ dealer. A high-end one that was clamouring for the best of the best when it came to their unwilling donors. Although they only had the intention of capturing Damian for the ransom money, when they saw him with Dick all they could see were dollar signs. They set up the transaction quickly, only getting a location and an approximate payment pending delivery. Problem was that this kidnapper wasn't told the location. The other two were. If Batman gave him an extra hard kick to make sure his ribs were left broken, he wouldn't admit to it.

The Batman persona had always brought Bruce a sense of comfort that he couldn't quite explain. It was a comfort only someone who dedicated themselves to the mask despite its risks could feel. It brought a sense of freedom and control. He always felt he could do more and be more with the Batman mask. That's why he found it odd that as he was driving to the cave now armed with the knowledge of who could have his ward, he felt on the edge of an anxiety attack. It was like all he could hear was static and all he could think of was the horrible things about to happen to the boy he raised. His memory could only flash to the times he'd massively fucked up in his parenting, throwing Dick's pained expressions from over the years at him and reminding him of the failure he'd been reminded of all day. 

They never once talked about it. They just got over it without ever actually getting over it. He distantly wondered if Dick was waiting for him to say something first but when that day never came, he gave up. He wondered if Dick still thought he wouldn't be grieved as much as he grieved for Jason. His imagination helpfully supplied the image of his son being forced to lie down on a surgical bed about to be put under anaesthesia whilst some strange doctor hovered over him and his last thought would be how he wouldn't be grieved as much as Jason was. It took a hell of a lot of self-control not to pull over and throw up from the guilt. 

When arriving at the cave and relaying what he knew, he could see that Tim was saying something to him but he couldn't hear a word of it. All he could hear was his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and Tim's muffled voice saying something important that he should be paying attention to. For all he knew, he could be saying that they found Dick and actually got back from saving him so there was no need to worry. It was only when he felt a hand on his shoulder that he could finally hear again. 

"You've got blood on you," Jason stated. He'd been the one to put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. Maybe he'd recognised that his mentor wasn't totally in the room with them. "You should get cleaned up."

"I need to save him," he said. He hadn't really thought through what he was going to say but he knew he hadn't meant to say that aloud and definitely not in that broken tone.

"You will. Tim and Babs together and you think we won't find him? Not gonna happen. Get yourself cleaned up or you'll make Goldie think you killed a guy." He hummed and it took another minute or so before he actually moved to clean the blood off his suit. 

"He never usually acts like that when we get kidnapped," Tim muttered to Jason.

"Trust me, when it comes to those two, there's always something more going on. You're better off not asking about it." The younger hummed unhappily but got back to work without any further questioning. 

When Bruce returned, he wasn't much better than when he left but he did appear to be more focused as he now noticed that Steph, Cass and Duke were working at the computer. He told himself that he hadn't seen them before because he was focused on telling Tim what he'd got from the kidnapper. When Tim repeated himself, Bruce learned that they'd tracked the van going to two locations. The first was outside of an abandoned lot where they couldn't get any further footage and the other was by the docks. Upon looking at the footage from the docks, they saw men disposing of two bodies in the murky waters. 

"Damian recognised them as the other two kidnappers," Tim explained quickly. "So whatever deal they made with the dealer was dead in the water." There was a pun there and Dick would've pointed it out if he were there. They could do with his comedic timing right now. "Steph is checking if the location of the lot is the same one from a case they're pursuing. A bunch of gym rats have been going missing over the last five months and when their bodies are found, there's not a lot left inside." 

"How long until their bodies are found following going missing?" Bruce asked. How much time did they have before they were too late?

"A few days but never more than two weeks. Seems to be long enough to run any medication out of their systems but some were dead by the end of the day of their capture. Considering Dick is on medication and going off the theory he's with the same people, we could have a few days to play with." Bruce shook his head.

"I want him found and home by morning," he demanded. 

"It's your lucky day then," Steph announced. "We're matching details. Looks like our dear Dickie is in the care of Dr Roebuck. Number one black market organ dealer to the rich. Cass and I were planning a raid with Babs but I guess we can let you boys tag along."

"That was quick," he muttered.

"You were interrogating that guy for an hour and it took you like forty minutes to get back here. Washing the blood off took another thirty," Damian pointed out. "It was more than enough time to corroborate what little we knew and their notes." That long? Nobody commented further on it but he could tell they were suspecting something more was going on. He didn't want to tell them without Dick's permission though so he continued his line of questioning. 

"How far along in planning are you?"

"We've got the blueprints of the building and we think we've got the bodyguard's schedule down but you'll be more interested in the wire we put in the place. Babs can pick up on people taken to surgery. In the timeframe of Dick being there, we've heard he's been put under. They keep everyone unconscious to prevent any fighting back."

"Is Barbara listening in now?" She nodded. "Relay any updates to us. I want those blueprints up and the schedule too. Tim, Cass and I will work on the strategy. The rest of you suit up. We'll leave immediately after we have a plan."

"You don't understand, he's not- well tell your client if he's happy to take an organ without meeting my standards," Dr Roebuck argued over the phone. There was a pause on the other end and then confirmation. Well, if he wanted an inferior product then they would have it on the record as such. "Fine. I'll have him prepped for surgery." They hung up with a huff and turned to the man standing beside them. "Get Mr Grayson prepped for surgery. We've got an order for lungs."

---

It was when they had a strategy down that Steph came running in with a frantic look in her eyes. 

"Comm units in now, Babs just heard he's being prepped for surgery," she announced. Bruce's blood ran cold at the news and he quickly shoved his earpiece in roughly to catch the end of the announcement.

"-two hours and then he'll be in surgery. If he is, you guys need to work with caution. This is major surgery and one wrong move can fuck it up." 

His heart was once again pounding against his chest like it was trying to break through his ribs and skin to the outside world. He'd been in plenty of life-or-death situations with Dick but this one was hitting him right where it hurts. Before their time limit was unknown and for some reason that had brought more peace of mind than knowing exactly how much time they had left. Perhaps it was because when you didn't know your time limit, you couldn't be blamed for lagging behind. You could argue you thought you had more time but now he knew exactly how long he had and it was like he could feel every second tick by. Even breathing felt like a waste of time. 

"Bruce, you need to breathe. Whatever you're going through right now, we don't have time," Tim told him, his grip on his bicep tight. He looked down at the teen and stared for a moment before falling back into his Batman persona. This wasn't the time to break down. 

"I'm fine," he replied.

"Are you sure?" He didn't reply and instead pressed his comm unit to relay their plan. 

"Damian is with me, we're team A. Steph and Cass are team B. Jason, Tim and Duke are team C.  C and B you're going to clear the way for A. A will concentrate on getting Dick, the rest will ensure the safety of other potential patients. Oracle will be leading us through but she has priority to A. Got that?" A series of affirmative hums rang through. "Good. Oracle can you clear the lights for us?"

"It'll be green the whole way," she replied confidently. 

Usually, Batman planned raids like this at least a week in advance. He would want to gather more information and make sure it was all airtight. He'd probably try a covert mission, maybe go undercover as a potential buyer or seller depending on which would get him the best results. Unlike his patrols, he didn't like to jump in without knowing everything he could know about his subject. Some operations took months to plan and eventually go through with. He liked to be efficient of course but he also didn't like putting everyone in unnecessary danger. 

Right now? That didn't matter. He barely kept it together long enough to have some sort of plan prepared and that was only because he had some of the best strategists at his side. He knew he could trust them to come up with something on the fly that would give them at least some semblance of a plan that would've originally taken a few days to go over. Batman knew that if he didn't have his kids there and if it was just him and Dick again, he would've gone in there completely blind and compromised by rage. 

That wasn't to say he wasn't compromised now. He'd been edging an anxiety attack since the phone call and admittedly it wasn't getting much better as he drove to their location. He knew Robin could sense his anxiety. Robin's eyes kept darting from the road in front of them to his iron grip on the steering wheel. There were moments where he thought something was going to be said but then it would lose steam and they'd lapse back into intense silence. He knew that he should say something to his son. Perhaps something reassuring since he was well aware of how close Robin was to his eldest. How couldn't they be? They used to be Batman and Robin. He distantly wondered if Robin wished they still were but he'd never asked about it. That seemed to be a habit of his. Never asking someone how they were feeling or how they were dealing with things. He pressed down further on the accelerator. 

The Batmobile's tires screeched to a halt after racing through the streets of Gotham and the hero jumped out, his protege following suit. His family were soon to follow him and soon enough they were standing outside of the building previously thought to be abandoned. Although every part of him was itching to run in and save his son, he knew better than to act so brashly. He gave the nod for team's B and C to head in first. A fine mist of rain poured upon them as he watched both teams approach the building and slip inside hopefully undetected. He flexed his hands a few times over to get rid of the frustration at not being able to simply head in built up. They had to be smart about this, he reminded himself. They still had time before he was even in the surgery room. Even then, surgery took hours to get through and although it would make things trickier if worst comes to worst then he'd still have some time left. He refused to see failure as an option since there as no way he was going to fail his son again.

"Father?" He darted his eyes down to Robin, humming to show he had his attention. "He'll be okay."

"I know." He didn't but Robin didn't need to know that. Nobody needed to know that although he had the suspicion that everyone was thinking about his doubts if even his protege had picked up on it. 

A tense few minutes went by where they heard nothing and didn't say a word to one another. Then they got their go to move. 

"You're good to follow," Signal announced. "There's an elevator at the end of the hall. Take it down to the Lower Ground." Batman didn't need to be told off. He took off running into the building without being totally sure he was being followed by his Robin. The entrance was a simple long hall and at the end he could spot the rusting red doors of an elevator with Spoiler and Batgirl standing on either side of it. He barely greeted them when he got close enough, simply pressing the button to go down and going inside. Robin had been following him, he realised, rather closely as they all got into the elevator and pressed Lower Ground. He briefly took note of the label written beside it saying "surgery" and averted his eyes. 

Dick didn't like doctors. He found them creepy. Batman suspected it came from the significant amount of villains having some sort of doctorate and from spending some formative years in the white walls of a hospital room from the night job. Dick got better at hiding it because it wasn't like they could avoid doctors in their line of work. It was inevitable. Whilst there were quite a few times where Batman wasn't there for him before going into surgery, when he was they had a sort of ritual. Batman would wish him luck and he'd say he didn't need it. Sometimes they'd end it with a hug or with a simple hand squeeze but it was their thing that brought comfort to the both of them. Not being there for when he went under anesthesia, and not being able to wish him luck, it all weighed on the hero when he saw they were heading to the floor designated for surgery. A floor many people likely never left alive. 

Ding!

The doors opened to another long hallway lit up with white fluorescent lights. If he didn't know any better, he'd think they'd entered a real hospital. At least he didn't need to worry too much about Dick catching something. Once the doors were open fully, he ran out and glanced at every door on the way. The lights inside most of the rooms were off so he could guess they weren't being used at the moment or they had been and were now holding something people didn't want to see as they walked past. He didn't linger on that thought very long and instead concentrated on just checking them. Up ahead, he could spot a split in the hallways with one continuing in a straight line and two more going east and west respectively.

"There's a split ahead, we've taken west. No sign of him on our side so far," Red Robin announced. "There's minimal security but there are nurses every so often. None of them know where he is."

"C team take east, we'll go ahead," Batman ordered. The girls nodded. "I want to know immediately if you find him."

There was no sound other than their heavy combat boots hitting the floor and the buzzing of the lights. Sometimes there'd be squeaks from their wet soles slightly slipping against the floor as they darted to each of the doors and peered inside. Each time they were met with disappointment. With every door, Batman felt his heart beat faster and faster. What if the intel was wrong? What if it was old or a red herring because they found the wires? No. He refused to fail his son and in order for that to not be option then the intel they had would have to be right. They just had to continue their search. Every window of the doors that gave him a peek into each room made his anxiety grow. 

"West side cleared. Nothing," Signal announced. "We're gonna handle the patients we did find."

"Nothing so far on east side. I think he's your way Bats," Spoiler added. 

"Copy that."

Then he saw two men ahead. Their eyes widened and they moved to block the hallway, scrambling for their guns. Like fuck they were keeping them from his son.

Dr Roebuck was rather proud of themselves for cutting their prep time by ten minutes so went into surgery with an extra bout of confidence. Even if their patient didn't meet usual standards the parts would at least be arriving on time. Their team was smaller than most hospitals but that was more out of preference than out of lack of staff. They took pride in their work and made sure everything was to their own standards which were pretty high considering the industry they were in. 

"Everything to plan, nurse Patent?" they asked as they double checked their equipment.

"He's stable and ready for you doctor." 

"Ready for a long one nurse Fell?"

"As always."

With their tools placed neatly on a table beside them, Dick out like a light, and everything ready, they picked up their scapel to make the first incision on Dick's chest just underneath his pec to the center of his chest. The scalpel was sharp so it cut through the layers of skin like a hot knife through butter and blood bubbled up from the incision. It was quickly dabbed up by Nurse Fell. They went to cut in deeper when they heard the sounds of gunshots out side followed by silence. 

"Sounds like we've got trouble. Wonder if it's our sellers friend," Dr Roebuck wondered aloud although they weren't the least bit phased. Whoever it was would be swiftly disposed of. It was just a waste of organs. They waited a moment longer to hear any more commotion but when there was nothing more, they got back to work making the cut deeper. 

The doors to the operating room slammed open and Batman along with his Robin stood in the doorway ready to attack. Evidently, their security hadn't disposed of the problem. The group didn't move away from Dick in the face of the heroes partially because they had to keep an eye on their patients functions.

"Get away from him," Batman snarled, practically spitting venom with each word. 

"I've just made the incision," Dr Roebuck muttered.

"And you'll do no more," Robin spoke up. "Stitch up what you've done then step away from him if you know what's good for you." They tutted but nodded to their team to do as demanded. They weren't stupid enough to think they had the upper hand when their only bargaining chip needed to be kept alive to be worth anything. That and if Batman was here then their operation was already busted. 

"We've found him. Oracle get police and an ambulance crew," Batman relayed on his earpiece. 

"He won't need an ambulance for that cut," Dr Roebuck commented.

"It's not for him. It's for you."

"Wow. Great." 

---

They weren't sure when Dick was going to wake up given the amount of anaesthesia he'd been given combined with whatever his sleep schedule was nowadays and whatever drugs from the original kidnapping were lingering in his system. What they were sure of was that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon and Batman could have his fun with Dr Roebuck. Eventually, Batman was pulled off of the doctor and sent home to be with Dick whilst his family dealt with the fallout of uncovering a black-market organ dealer. If you asked Batman how he got back, he wouldn't be able to tell you. He guessed that was why he was sent home in the first place. That and he was probably very close to breaking his no-killing rule. 

Bruce found himself in an armchair he'd pulled closer to Dick's bed, fussing slightly over the pillows and bedsheets to ensure comfort although he doubted any of it made a difference. He caught sight of his bruised knuckles and distantly wondered how hard he'd punched Dr Roebuck. It also got him worrying if there were any bruises on his son from the kidnapping and subsequent failed surgery. Was he in pain? Hopefully not.

In the quiet, he had time to reflect on the day he'd made the mistake to not think of the acrobat as his son. As soon as he realised his mistake, he tracked Dick down and found him laying unconscious on the floor with a bottle of chloroform beside him. Panic had surged through him until he felt a steady pulse and watched the even rise and fall of his chest. Thanks to being an acrobat and slightly concerning eating habits, Dick was always felt lighter than he should despite his muscles so Bruce hadn't been worried about picking him up. He'd felt even lighter at that moment though as Bruce gathered him into his arms and then into the back of the Batmobile. He didn't think about the kidnappers in that moment although he'd give them hell later. He was just focused on the precious cargo in his backseat. 

He'd felt so fatherly as he put his son down into bed even though he didn't have any right to feel that way given how their relationship was and the mistake he'd made. He also didn't have the right to swipe the fringe of his messy mullet out of the way and press a kiss against his forehead before leaving the room. Then they fought and he was certain that he didn't have the right to do or feel any of that.

He hoped when Dick woke up this time that things would be different. He had an idea of what he wanted to say but if history was anything to go by then it wouldn't come out quite right. Alfred had popped his head in quickly to offer him a coffee and place a glass of water on the bedside table for when he eventually awoke. Bruce guessed he was quick to ensure that he wouldn't be in the middle of the conversation he was going to have. He didn't blame the butler one bit.

A few hours passed when Bruce felt the hand he was holding squeeze slightly. It wasn't enough to hurt but it was enough to catch his attention and bring it to Dick's face which began to twitch as he stirred from his deep sleep. It took several minutes for the acrobat to finally fight through the last bit of the drugs before his eyes opened and he stared confused at the ceiling. 

"You with me chum?" Bruce asked. 

"Just about," Dick croaked. "Not dead I take it?"

"No, not dead," he confirmed with a slight smile. The acrobat hummed, blinking until his eyes finally adjusted and his brain kicked back into gear. Once it got going, he suddenly shot up into a sitting position.

"Damian! He's-" Bruce put a hand up and gently pushed him back down into the bed, careful to avoid the stitched-up wound on his chest.

"He's fine. I found him. He's with the others clearing up the mess. He'll be back soon though, he'll be wanting to make sure you're alright."

"Oh. Did you um find him before you found me?" The question to anyone else would've sounded like it was simply out of curiosity or an attempt to start a conversation to catch up on everything. He was always the conversationalist and took more comfort in chatting than anything else. Bruce, unfortunately, knew there was something deeper behind the question and nodded solemnly. 

"I didn't realize they weren't going to keep you together. I should've known but I didn't catch the phrasing until I found Damian," he explained. 

"It's fine B." It wasn't. "You okay? You've still got your eyeshadow on."

"It's tactical paint and you know that," he replied, accepting the attempt to lighten the mood.

"It's as tactical as the bat ears on your suit." He rolled his eyes at him. "Seriously, what with you? You look like I died or something." There was a pause. "Did I die?" His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly.

"No! No, it just- it was close. Well not close but close for me. There was just one cut by the time I got there although it was pretty deep." His eyes darted to the other's chest to give him an indication of where it was although he probably knew already from how sore it must be. "You'll be good to go once the stitches are taken out. It's just I uhm I realised something." Dick raised an eyebrow at him sceptically before reaching over to grab the glass of water. He took a sip and when his mentor hadn't spoken, he decided to fill the empty space.

"Considering this is the most I've heard you talk outside a gala nowadays, you've got me worried. Did the crazed Doc find something whilst testing me?" That would be just his luck.

"No, and I do talk outside of galas."

"You say things but you don't talk." Bruce frowned at him. It was that frown that meant he'd said something confusing but completely clear to himself. Damian had the same frown which was sort of adorable but funny when the pair did it at the same time.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Ask anyone and they'll agree."

"I see what you're doing." Dick put on an innocent expression.

"What am I doing?"

"You're avoiding the conversation by distracting me."

"Then don't make it sound so grim."

"Dick."

"Bruce." What was it about them that they'd sound so much like themselves ten years ago? It was like they had equal power to little each other down until they lost some of their maturity. Well, what maturity they had to begin with that is. Bruce narrowed his eyes for a moment, spotting the insecurity behind the mischief and fueling the distractions. He knew a lot of effort was going into it and that only made him feel worse.

"You're talking too much for someone who just woke up from anaesthesia."

"I get that a lot." The billionaire sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Just let me say what I need to say. Please." The pleading seemed to do the trick and the mischievous glint that Dick had in his eyes died out. He took another few sips of his water before placing it on the side and giving his mentor all of his attention, silently telling him to say what he had to. "Today made me think about that day. When I didn't save you because I forgot you were my son." There was definitely a better way to phrase that given the wince on the acrobat's face.

"That was years ago," Dick told him in that withering tone he used to minimize issues. He didn't like it being used when talking about this.

"I know but I also know that you were probably reminded of it too. We don't talk about things and a lot of that is my fault."

"Why are we talking about it now? It happened, we said and did things we regret. Job done." He was brushing it off. Perhaps he worried about where this was going. Maybe Bruce phrased something wrong along the way or he simply didn't want to talk about it but they had to. This tension needed to be resolved before something happened one day and it would be too late to say anything.

"Because it's all I could think about today and someone had to calm me down both times! Do you know how big that is?"

"I'll just go fetch your best dad medal for being worried about me, shall I?" Dick asked bitterly. It threw the other hero off to hear it. He'd been expecting a response that would empathise with his feelings, not one that belittled him.

"Why are you getting mad?"

"Why am I-" Dick stopped himself and took a deep breath. "It's been years since that happened and I want to get over it but here you are bringing it back up again. You're making it about yourself, how worried you were today well good! You should be worried even if I'm worth half as much as everyone else."

"You're not worth half as much. You're worth as much."

"Oh yeah, I'm totally feeling that. It's not like you've never thanked me for everything I did for your kids and you haven't exactly apologized for anything you've done."

"You've not apologized either."

"Sorry I fucked up as Robin, is that what you want to hear? Sorry I left when you took away the only support system you ever gave me. Sorry I'm not jumping for joy when you say you were worried about me dying. Sorry I had the gall to think I was your son."

I have no son.

That was where Bruce was supposed to blow up and storm off, muttering about how it was useless. Dick didn't exactly want that but he knew it was the usual response to him "acting out" or otherwise disagreeing with his mentor. He was surprised when he closed his eyes to regain his composure and opened them again to find his mentor sitting right where he was before. His hand was still on his. The surprise must've shown on his face because Bruce seemed to crack upon seeing it. He didn't remember the last time he saw the man so vulnerable. Maybe when he was under fear toxin but he couldn't think of a time when he'd looked so miserable sober.

"You're still here," he muttered.

"I'm still here," Bruce confirmed. "You are my son, Dick. You have been from the moment I fostered you." He wanted to believe that. He really did but he couldn't when all the facts were stacking up against him. Was this confession after a stressful event supposed to wipe away the past for him? He shook his head to himself as though to answer that question. It couldn't be that easy, it never would be. 

"But stopped when you fired me? You didn't even think twice when they said they had your son. They called you multiple times and you kept saying you didn't have one. I know we were in a rough place but was that all it took to lose you?"

"I was grieving. I let that cloud my judgement. I know that seems unfair but it's the truth." 

"I shouldn't have said what I did about Jason, I'm sorry for that. God knows I paid for it," he replied. That's what this had to be right? Some elaborate way to get him to apologize for what he said about Jason. He did regret it. He regretted it the moment he said it and he thought Bruce knew that but maybe he wanted to be sure. 

"I'm not asking you to apologize about that but thank you," Bruce replied. Oddly, it lifted a weight off his chest that had been there since he'd uttered the words. "What do you mean you paid for it?"

"I saw him. A lot. Followed me around for a while." He'd never actually said anything about having hallucinations. In fact, he was sure that no one knew about it not even his doctor. They didn't happen all the time just when he was grieving a big loss or was particularly stressed. He'd shrugged it off as a side effect of a life where he'd been given random hallucinogens. 

"He did the same to me too," Bruce admitted. 

"You've gotta stop from the surprises, you might give me a heart attack." His attempt to lighten the mood was rejected this time and the sad look on his mentor's face intensified. "What is it you want to tell me? Just get straight to the point."

"I want you to know that you are my son and that I love you as much as I can ever love a person which I know is never enough and it can't compare to how you just have this endless love to give everyone who you deem worth it," the billionaire explained. His voice was tainted slightly by self-pity that may not be entirely deserved. "But you need to know that I do love you no matter what."

"B, can...can you really say that?" the acrobat asked. His voice was wet like he was about to cry. Judging by his slowly clouding vision, he was close to it.

"Why wouldn't I be able to?" 

He shrugged and let his eyes fall on where their hands met. They weren't all that different anymore. He remembered how his hand used to look so tiny in his mentors but now it was only slightly smaller. Both of their palms were as calloused as each other and it was a wonder they could feel anything at all through the hardened and scarred skin there. Yet it always brought the same sense of comfort. 

"Dick?"

"It's just- I don't know what to tell you. I'm sure you'd love to hear that I believe you but I can't. If I could then I would but I can't sit here and believe you when you say you love me as much as you possibly could. Not from one confession."

"How long?" Bruce asked quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"How long have you felt like that?" There was a pause. "Tell me."

"Remember Two-Face?" 

"You were twelve. You've felt like that since you were twelve?" He nodded, continuing to look off to the side so he didn't have to see his mentor's destroyed expression. "That was before the kidnapping incident- Dick that was before I even knew Jason. You've thought you weren't my son since you were twelve?"

"It was when you first threatened Robin. I thought well if all he's thinking about now, whilst I'm hurt, is how I failed then I couldn't be his son. When your kid gets hurt, all you're supposed to think about is making them feel better. You did that before but after that," his sentence trailed off as he shrugged. "Then when I heard you on the phone so certain that you didn't have a kid that made it feel less like one of those stupid self-deprecating thoughts and more like a fact. I'd somehow fucked up what we had when I was twelve and I got my confirmation when I heard you."

The next thing he knew, there were arms wrapped around him and he was pulled into a tight hug. It was slightly uncomfortable given the fresh stitches on his chest and how close he was to someone he thought he was fighting with but even with that in mind, Dick relaxed into it and hid his face in the crook of his mentor's neck like he was nine again. Tears bubbled up in his eyes and spilt over despite his attempt to will them to stay put. He didn't want to cry even if he had good reason to. It was made worse (or better, he was still debating how mortifying it was to be a grown man crying in his mentor's arms) when he felt Bruce rub small circles on his back and shush him quietly. 

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologized softly, his voice becoming a low rumble. "I love you, I promise. You are my son and I know I've not shown it but I promise you it's true. You've not done anything wrong."

"I have," he replied. As much as he'd like to say that everything was Bruce's fault, that just wouldn't be true. He could've said something sooner, could've handled things better and definitely could've kept some taunts to himself. There were things he'd said to Jason and to Bruce that he couldn't forgive himself for and he suspected that Bruce felt the same. Whilst his mentor definitely had a lot to apologize for, the blame wasn't solely his to bear.

"No, no. You were sixteen when I fired you. You were a child and God you were basically still a child when Jason died. You're still a child to me now even if you can drink with me during galas." 

"Today spooked you that much huh?" 

"Today was a wake-up call I finally listened to. Losing you would kill me. I would never forgive myself if you died without knowing how much I cared because I can't show it all the time." Dick let out a cry and held on tighter. "I've got you. I promise you're my son just as much as Jason, Tim, Damian and Duke. You've done so much for me, you know that? For me and this family. Even though you never had to earn it in the first place, the least you deserve is to be considered my son. I'm so fucking proud to say it. I always will be."

"You're making me cry," Dick complained.

"Do you believe me yet?" He shook his head, wanting to answer honestly. "Then move over because I'm not leaving you until you do."

"We're both too old to share a bed."

"Says who?" For once, Dick didn't argue with him nor did he have a witty comeback. They parted briefly so he could move over and let Bruce into the bed. Once they were comfortable, Bruce brought him back into a hug and suddenly they were nine and twenty-five again. Albeit they were much bulkier than they were then but that didn't matter. What did matter was this was the closest Dick had felt to his mentor in years and the closest he'd felt to being his son again. It wouldn't be a quick fix but as he felt calloused hands run through his hair and heard reassuring mutterings, he knew that this was a good start.

-- BONUS --

"Can we reconvene at the cave?" Red Robin asked once all was said and done. He had a bad feeling about all of this but not towards the organ trade. He'd seen Bruce go through a lot in his time as his protege and son yet today just didn't sit well with him. He'd seen the man panic of course. No one was completely free of the feeling no matter how hard they try to train it out of themselves. It was the manifestation of the panic that had the teen curious. 

"What for?" Red Hood asked.

"Something didn't feel right about today and I know you're going to say to leave whatever it was but dude, you saw Batman."

"Usually I would say that," he replied. "Right now though? I don't know if I'm happy to."

"His behaviour was odd. So was Grayson's" Robin added. 

"We're not seeing the full story here and if it were any of us, Dick wouldn't let it rest," Signal commented. They all nodded in agreement. It seemed today had left them all with a bad feeling that none of them was content to ignore. 

When they got back to the Batcave, they gathered in one of the planning rooms in case their mentor decided to visit the cave. They very much doubted it since the only thing that had parted him from Dr Roebuck was the reminder of Dick's condition. 

In order to figure out the puzzle, they first asked Damian about Dick's behaviour during the kidnapping. Although they hadn't seen the pair interact, they were sure whatever the issue was it was one that was shared between them. It was no secret that Bruce and Dick had some history between them thanks to the firing of Robin and the subsequent move. There was still animosity whenever either of them mentioned anything from that time although it had calmed down over the years. 

"He was normal in the beginning," Damian began. "I wouldn't be able to tell anything different. Then our kidnapper started calling me Father's actual son. Of course, I am his by blood-"

"Damian," Cass warned.

"-but I'm no longer under the impression that I'm his only son. I thought it was to antagonise Grayson which it was but he referenced an incident. Whatever he was referencing, Grayson knew it without much more explanation."

"Did he say anything more about it?" Tim quizzed. If they could get a time frame, he could try to find something in their files. Some old mission reports or newspaper articles. 

"No, by then the kidnapper had moved on to offending my mother and Grayson decided to stop complying. I'm unsure if it was because the incident had left him needing the outlet or because he knew that I wouldn't respond well," he explained. They couldn't say for certain since both situations were just as plausible as the other. He'd take a beating for any of them even if they told him not to. "Whatever this incident was, it had to be common knowledge otherwise there was no way it could be spread amongst low-level criminals."

"It also had to involve Bruce and Dick as their public personas if they knew about it then," Duke noted. "We could probably assume it was a kidnapping and it had to be long ago enough for none of us to be there."

"What makes you say that?" Jason asked.

"Well, this is the first time you guys have seen this behaviour so it had to have happened either during his time as Robin or after Jason died but before Tim came here. It also had to be big enough to still be referenced years later."

"Come to think of it, I don't think he's been taken for ransom in a while as Dick Grayson," Tim mentioned. None of them could. He'd been kidnapped a few times but never for ransom. It was mostly because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and was lumped together with a bunch of civilians but never kidnapped for a payout from Bruce Wayne. They should've found it more suspicious but they assumed with the wealth of kids the billionaire had, the smaller of them were just easier to get a hold of.

"So we're dealing with a kidnapping situation where Dick was taken as Dick Grayson and held for ransom. It had to have happened before Tim but after me. We already know that time frame wasn't the best for them. The handling of the kidnapping meant that its widespread knowledge that he's not seen as Bruce's actual son and judging by the lack of ransoms, it's clearly seen as fact," Jason laid out. 

"It also had to have been big enough for him to know what it was from just a reference to an incident but not big enough for any of us to know about," Duke added. 

"Or it was big enough but neither of them want to admit or say what it was," Steph proposed. "We wouldn't hear it because none of us has been taken with him before outside of Nightwing."

"The simple answer is usually the right one," Damian announced. He didn't want this answer to be right as he didn't know if he could see his father the same way after but it was the one that made the most sense. "After Todd's death and before Drake's meeting, Father said Grayson he wasn't his son during a ransom call. Maybe he was left there or maybe he wasn't. What we do know is that it wasn't a planned move for tactical reasons. It was genuine."

"So he was anxious today because he wanted to make up for it? Or because he never apologized?" Steph questioned. He shook his head, unsure if he could trust Bruce to apologize after saying something like that. The man could be cutting when he wanted to be and have lapses in self-awareness at the worst of times. 

"I knew things were rough between them but that was years ago," Tim commented. "There's no way Dick would still be affected if they'd reconciled."

"They do have a habit of just not talking about things," Duke added. "Remember when they had that fight about Deathstroke and didn't talk for a week? Then they acted like it never happened."

"After everything Goldie did for him. The guy raised his kid for a year! No, I'm not sitting here whilst he has a mope fest waiting for Dick to wake up." Jason shoved himself away from the table and got to his feet. "You're welcome to join."

"As if we needed the offer," Damian replied.

It shocked Bruce how little time he spent with his son nowadays as Dick and Bruce rather than in their hero personas. He missed it actually. Although his arm was beginning to go dead from where Dick leaning on it after drifting back to sleep, there was no way he was going to risk disturbing this moment. The acrobat had rightfully been exhausted by their conversation and crying, he'd also been lulled to sleep by the soft ministrations of his mentor. 

It was a nice and peaceful moment until the bedroom door slammed open and his children poured into the room wearing scowls. For a second their expressions flickered to somewhere between fond and confused but they ultimately returned to scowling at him. Dick must've been especially tired since he barely reacted to the noise and remained asleep.

"Can I help you?" Bruce asked, slightly confused.

"You said he wasn't your son, didn't you?" Damian accused. The billionaire's eyes widened and his gaze drifted to the man peacefully sleeping in his arms. As much as he knew Dick needed his sleep, this would probably be a good time to wake him up. "Answer me!"

"Wozzit?" Dick mumbled sleepily, flinching at the noise. Of course, that's what woke him up rather than the door.  

"The others know."

"Huh?"

"About the incident, we talked about it." Suddenly more awake than he had been, he shot up and rubbed his eyes of sleep. He looked to the end of the bed and startled at the small audience he had when the last he remembered was falling asleep in his mentor's arms. 

"Do we really have to do it now?" he grumbled. A few of his siblings rolled their eyes. Whilst he understood their anger and need to get this fixed, it didn't involve them. They didn't need to know the ins and outs and quite frankly, he didn't want them to. He didn't want to talk about this any more than he had to. 

"Oh yeah, let's just table Bruce telling people you're not his son. When can you write us into your calendar? I've got an opening on the fifth," Jason snarked. "How could you say he wasn't your son?"

"I know I messed up there but we're going to work on it," Bruce explained. "We've talked about it-"

"He's done so much for you over the years and it's only now that you thought to apologize? Not before when he's been on his deathbed because we all know you've nearly lost him twice as much as you've nearly lost us," Tim interrupted. 

Honestly, Dick hadn't thought about that. He recognised it as a fact but it hadn't registered yet and he suddenly felt a tug on his heart. Why did it take so long? Why was today the wake-up call and no other time? He second-guessed the sincerity with which he'd been told that he was Bruce's son and became suspicious of the moment they'd shared. The flicker of hope that he'd been truly part of the family all this time slowly weakened at the gusts of reality.

"Why did it take today for you to talk about it?" Dick asked, fearing the answer. 

"Because today was like that day," Bruce replied. 

"But I've been taken before? As Nightwing? You never thought about it when I was Nightwing?" Why would he think of it? 

"I haven't thought about it in years, Dick. I try not to." 

Years? Years. That heartfelt apology suddenly went sour and he felt his stomach churn. Saliva rushed into his mouth and he knew the warning signs well enough to quickly get out of bed and get to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and emptying his guts into the toilet. 

It was all an act, his mind supplied. It was an act to keep him happy and attached and stupid. Today was just another one of those times when he'd been fooled into things were going to be different and that things were going to be different. This would be a memory he looked back on when he thought there was no hope for them and when he wondered why the hell he was still trying. The positive memories always shone brighter than the negative and always swayed him to come back after every fight. Bruce must know that and that's why he said everything that he had. He'd been played like a fiddle. He'd never be Bruce's son. He'd never be his child like the others were. 

He flushed the toilet and walked over to the door, putting his hand on the handle but not opening it. They'd think he was an idiot for believing Bruce. He'd have to look at his mentor knowing that they were right back to square one. Instead of opening the door, he locked it and sank down against it until he sat on the floor. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. 

He was twelve again reeling from the fact his failure meant he couldn't be Bruce's son. 

He was sixteen again running away from home because Bruce didn't want him as Robin. 

He was eighteen again being told that he was to blame for Jason's death and told not to come back. 

He was newly turned twenty again being told that he wasn't Bruce's son through the phone.

They crowded around the door, waiting for it to open only to be greeted with the click of a lock. Still, Bruce tried his luck and found it to be locked for certain.

"Dick, can you unlock the door for me chum?" he asked. There was no response and no sound of movement so he took that as a no. He sighed and rubbed his brow whilst his children weren't prepared to end the conversation much to his displeasure. He already had to work twice as hard to get Dick to even think there was a possibility of being his son and they'd made it even harder.  

"You didn't think about saying he wasn't your kid in years?" Steph asked. "Was it not a big enough deal for you?"

"Why are you getting involved?" Bruce countered.

"He's our brother," Tim supplied.

"And he's my son! We talked about it, we were working through things and you've just set us back to the start."

"If anything, we've given him a hit of reality. You think he wouldn't ever question why it took so long? This is how you get him back after every fight when we aren't here. I bet you put on a real show for him, promising to change, promising him he was your son and apologizing but not meaning it because all you want is to pacify him," Jason fired back.

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life and the only way I've ever known is to not think of them but if you think for one second I was faking the promises I made for him then you are gravely mistaken."

"Oh yeah? Because Goldie there just threw up from how hard the truth hit him. Couldn't have been that convincing." Bruce narrowed his eyes at the younger and if looks could kill, Jason would be seeing the light for the second time. 

"You have no idea what you're talking about," the older bit out through his teeth. Anger seeped and dripped from every word, like a snake's fangs leaking venom before going in for the attack.

"No?"

"No! None of you were there. I was grieving and I let it consume me, I accept that. He accepted that."

"He'll accept anything when he's so fucking desperate for any sort of love he can get!" Jason shot back. A muffled whimper sounded from behind the door followed by a sniffle. It was so quiet anyone else would miss it but the family wouldn't. 

"Hey Jason, we're not supposed to be making things worse," Tim commented. "Maybe go take a breather."

"I'm fine."

"He isn't," Steph reminded him, Cass thumbing to the locked bathroom door beside her to make the picture a bit clearer for him. He deflated and conceded with a mumbled string of curses. He didn't mean any harm with what he said, in fact, he'd wholly intended to help defend his older brother but sometimes things didn't come out as he wanted them to. "As harshly as that point was put, Jason is trying to say that Dick won't recognise love bombing as easily as the rest of us could."

"I'm not love bombing, I'm being genuine!" Bruce defended. "Here's what happened that day. I got a call saying someone had my son and I said I had no son. Jason was dead and I didn't even think about Dick which yes is a horrible mistake that I'm deeply sorry for. They called again, I still didn't think of him and then I went to save him when I did realize. We argued and then we didn't talk for a month."

"What did you argue about?" Damian asked. His eyes flickered between the door and Jason before settling on a spot somewhere in the middle of them. It wasn't his story to tell alone and he didn't want to make Dick feel any worse than he already did.

"It doesn't matter. We said things we both regret."

"And then you let him think he wasn't your son for years. How can be so reassuring to us when you let him sit there and think he wasn't your son? You've known him since he was nine and you let him think he wasn't yours," Duke argued. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me and I understand I'm new here but what am I - what are we - supposed to think when you let this go on for so long and only did something about it today?"

"I don't know," Bruce admitted. He didn't. He wanted to say that they should see him for a man that struggled to reckon with his guilt or a man who made his fair share of mistakes but he couldn't. "But this isn't about how you see me. This is about my kid suffering at my hand. I'm man enough to admit the hurt I've put him through and I feel horrible that I've let him think he wasn't mine since he was twelve-"

"Twelve? The kidnapping happened when he was twenty," Tim interrupted. "That makes this even worse!"

"I only found out that part today when we were talking. My point is that I know I haven't done the best by him but I never once meant it when I said he wasn't my son. I never would." He looked to the door as though he was talking to the acrobat. "I know I've hurt you Dick and I don't expect you to come out here and say all is forgiven. I'm more than willing to work for your forgiveness and work for you to believe me but please, even if it's only this one part you believe, I need you to understand that I meant every word of my apology. None of it was a show and none of it was to take advantage of that bleeding heart of yours." 

Jason moved to stand by the door and whilst looking at his ex-mentor, said his piece.

"And Dick, even if you don't believe him about being his son, you're our brother. Always will be. So if you never forgive the twat I'm looking at then you'll have us on your side too. You've done more than enough for this family so it's the least we can do." He paused and chewed the inside of his cheek before huffing out a curse. "If you want to forgive him then we'll make sure he keeps whatever promises he makes, alright? Just," he sighed. "Come out here. The pipsqueak needs to make sure his ever-so-precious big bird isn't too roughed up. Maybe I need to see it too."

A tense few minutes passed before they finally heard movement and they waited anxiously as the lock clicked again. The door didn't open for a moment or two as though Dick was still debating it but when it finally opened his eyes remained on the ground and his eyebrows were pinched as though he was thinking very hard. Then, he moved to the cupboard and opened it to retrieve an old jacket. 

"Dick?" Bruce called.

"You're being mean, you know that? It's not funny. Y-you come in here all apologetic and I think for once I'm part of this family and then what? It's all fake? Then you guys rush in and make me think it's a lie and then just believe him when he talks about it? Whatever joke there is to be made here, it's not funny and I'm not going to be a part of it," he snapped as he put on the jacket. "I'm not your little toy to play with when all you want is an argument. You've got plenty of other shit to fight about." 

"Hey, we were fucking genuine when we came in here to tear him a new one," Jason replied.

"Oh but I wouldn't know genuine even if it hit me in the face because I'm so desperate for love, aren't I? Well, sorry me wanting a father is such a personal offence to you. Your little speech about being brothers that's all fake. All of it because you sounded exactly like him and if he was lying, then you have to be too and I'm not sticking around for it."

"I was out of line, I get that-"

"I don't want to hear whatever bullshit you're about to tell me. I can't. I really can't." He shook his head and began to walk out of the room. He hoped he left his window unlocked because he didn't have his keys and it would be more than a little awkward to storm out of the place only to come back because he couldn't get into his apartment. He'd probably risk sleeping in the stairwell. 

"Grayson, stop," Damian demanded. "We were genuine in our anger and I'm inclined to believe that Father was genuine in his apology. We aren't lying to you, we'd never be so cruel."

"He let me think I wasn't his for years! Then when I finally think he means it, you guys come in and say he's just playing with me. It's hard enough listening to the same thoughts I get every time I'm around any of you, I don't need you messing with my head too. Do you know how hard it is when I'd see him with any of you and think fuck I wish we had that? Or when we're all together and all I can hear is him saying I wasn't his son? Or when we're out there and I'm giving myself reasons why I'm kept around because I can't figure it out?"

"You're here because you are family," Bruce told him. "You are my son, you are their brother and you are a damn good man to stick around if you doubt any of that. We're not playing with you, this isn't some sort of game, we're all serious. They were going off part of the story so they thought I was lying and honestly I haven't given them much reason to believe me over the years. Don't leave because I don't want to wait another month to see you again. None of us do."

"What do we do then huh? Play happy families whilst I sit there wondering when it'll end?"

"We'll work on it. Give me the chance to fix what I've broken."  

"Why should I?"

"Because you deserve a father," Damian answered. "You deserve a family. We care about you, that's why we were angry and that's why we were critical of Father's apology. It wasn't our intention to hurt you further or ruin any progress you made. We're protective of you, sometimes to our own detriment."

"And you mean all that? You definitely mean it because if I find out this has been some sort of elaborate prank to-" he was cut off as the air was knocked out of him from how tight Damian was hugging him. A Damian hug? In front of everyone? Still wary but unable to resist returning the hug, he let himself hear the sincerity without scepticism. 

Any further suspicion slowly died as his family slowly joined the hug. The fact that Tim and Damian were so close without punching each other was certainly telling. He sighed. Sue him for wanting a family all you like.

"Alright. I believe you."

"You don't but that's okay. Give us time and we'll make sure of it," Damian reassured him. He glanced over to Bruce, slightly surprised by the teen's response. His mentor just smiled. He really hoped this wasn't fake. His heart wouldn't be able to take it if it were. Dick guessed only time could tell what it was for certain and he was more than willing to give the time to find out.