Hi all! Some relatively quick updating from me the past week. It helps I'm in a hotel room at the moment before heading back to "work", so I had more time on my hands than usual. I hope you all are still enjoying the story. As with other writers, I'm sure, it's nice to know whether or not there is still interest in what our silly minds have created. So, thanks so much for all your reviews, as well as any follows or favorites. They definitely help to push me to update faster!

Hope you like this next installment!

Bruce descended the staircases of Wayne Manor with a heavy heart and more thoughts in his head than he could count. He hoped Jason truly did understand that he had the boy's best interest in mind at all times. Even if his middle son was currently nursing a sore backside, Bruce couldn't help but want Jason to feel more secure and more at home than he had in… ever. In spite of the fact that the boy had practically asked for what had been doled to him, Bruce still felt uneasy at dealing (granted, a small amount of) harm to a child that had already been through so much abuse.

At least Dick was handled. For now. By this point, Red Tornado would have given the team an assignment dealing with the Happy Harbor incidents that had begun that morning. While the Batman in the back of his mind urged him to check on the team's status and take control, Bruce knew he had to play this mission from a distance. Hell, he couldn't even let Dick know he had assigned it. Not if he wanted his eldest to feel that he and the team had some autonomy. Not if he needed to prove to himself that they could mange on their own.

As the final staircase came into view thanks to an adjusted grandfather clock and the dim lighting of a corridor, Bruce pondered what his youngest was up to. The last few days had been so tied up in his older boys, he had hardly been able to speak to Tim, let alone get to know what was swimming around in that brilliant brain of his. And, before Jason freshened up and recovered his pride, the man knew he should at least find out what the so-called baby of the family had been doing to occupy his time.

The oversized monitor of the Batcave was running. Of course. If Tim could be anywhere in the world it would be in front of a computer screen. If not there, then falling asleep on a stakeout. He and Jason were still not allowed to dive into action on missions, but that didn't stop Bruce from letting them in on a more background job from time to time, and that was where Tim seemed to thrive. Dick the tactician, Jason the savior, and Tim the detective.

Bruce took a moment to reflect on all three of his children as the screen came into view. They were all more brilliant and kind than he could ever hope for in anyone. If he still held any ounce of the religion his parents had passed down to him, it would be because of them. Regardless of everything, from their upbringings to their struggles, they still all proved to be brilliant beyond their peers, warm-hearted beyond his imagination, and more iron-willed than any children he had ever seen.

More than that, Dick was tactical while still human, a trait that Bruce knew was beyond lost on himself. Jason's drive for justice was stronger than his own, burning from a source of such deep emotion and compassion that the man doubted anyone could comprehend it, much less someone as stoic as him. Then there was Tim, who currently sat ticking away at the keyboard. Tim held such a level of genius that it almost frightened him, and carried such humility and work ethic with him that, if Bruce could, he would have hired the eight-year-old on as a Wayne Enterprises board member the instant he was signed on as his son.

"What are you looking up?" Bruce asked once he approached the large computer chair.

He sensed Tim's small frame shrug. "I wanted to check on the team's current status and on the clone's behavior during the first mission. We still don't know too much about him, so I thought monitoring the camera in Dick's mask would help determine if we should be worried or not. If something triggers in him, we'll know."

"And…?"

"So far, so good. He's hot-headed, but he's hyper-aged to sixteen. Jason's about the same and he's not even eleven yet. I think anyone would be crazy if they were rushed from infancy into the middle of puberty in a matter of weeks. So I'm told."

Bruce wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or admire the boy's astute observations, so he held a middle ground and smirked, reaching down to pat the boy's shoulder. "Told from what?"

Another shrug. "The shows Dick and Jason watch. Not the Disney ones. The other ones."

"What other ones?"

"Uh, nothing. Anyway, we don't have anything to worry about so far. Dick's got a few bruises, but he's fine, and the others are about the same. Though… they're kinda…"

Bruce approached the computer, glancing between Tim and the monitor. "Kind of what?"

"Sloppy. Not individually. Together, I mean."

Again the bat in Bruce's brain struggled to regain control of the mission, but Bruce pushed it back. "It is their first big assignment. They are going to have some kinks to work out before they get into their rhythm. It's the same with every team. As long as everyone is still healthy, we'll let them keep doing what they're doing."

Tim nodded and, after a few more moments, changed the screen to some open case files they had been working then peered his baby-blue eyes up to his adoptive father. "Is Jason okay?"

"As fine as he can be."

"So you—"

"So he's been through a lot the last twelve hours and he's meeting us down here after he's had some time to himself. I want you to change into your training clothes and meet me back here in five. We're going to work on a few drills."

He didn't miss the small groan at the back of Tim's throat, though Bruce knew it had less to do with a hatred of training. All of his boys had concerns and self-esteem issues with various parts of their lives, both inside and outside of the Batcave. Tim felt comfortable in front of a monitor and at the end of a comm piece, relaying information and analyzing data. It was the physical aspect that usually had the boy second-guessing himself and keeping inside of his shell.

Before Bruce could offer words of support, a shuffling behind him caught his attention. Jason took careful steps down the cave stairs and toward the pair of them. As he got closer, Bruce noted, aside from some slight puffiness around his eyes, any remnants of his crying had disappeared. More than that, he was already dressed in his training clothes from the night before. He even managed a small smile as he approached them.

"So, what's the plan?"

Tim gave him slight grin back, running off to change as Bruce led Jason to the mats. When his younger brother's last footsteps died away, Jason scratched at an imaginary itch on his arm.

"You still disappointed in me?" he asked.

"I'm never disappointed in you boys. If I'm disappointed at all, it's in the choices you make or the situations you put yourselves in. You, Jay, could never disappoint me. Got it?"

Though his words were kind and tender, a hint of a growl rumbled in his voice, warning Jason not to push the issue. Bruce would not tolerate his children calling themselves disappointments or anything to that effect. As the words and their meaning washed over Jason, he found his smile tickling the sides of his mouth once more.

"Got it, boss. Just checking. So, this is the part where you have some machines throw knives at me in a simulation of what might happen if I play dumb on our next stakeout?"

"Considering your next stakeout won't be for another two weeks—"

"What?!"

"I'm going to have you and Tim spend the next few sessions learning your own strengths," Bruce continued, ignoring the outburst. "While I do want you both to be able to mimic certain movements and to have the same understanding of tactics and what we have at our disposal, I also want you both to feel like individuals. Dick uses his acrobatics to his advantage. You, Jason, are naturally strong and fast. I want you to figure out ways to use that to your advantage."

"Two weeks?!"

Bruce leveled him with a look. "Did you not hear a word I just said, Jason?"

"I heard two weeks off from stakeouts, and then some other stuff."

"You're spending the next two weeks proving to me that you can follow orders and spend your time training to prepare for the next time you may be face-to-face with a group of thugs. Two weeks seemed like a nice span of time to help you clear your head, but I can make it three."

Jason made a face, hanging his head and kicking his foot. "No. Two weeks is good."

Bruce nodded, patting him on the back. The pats were strong and steady, but not too strong, rather sending a comforting sensation from their source, spreading from between Jason's shoulder blades and down his spine. He looked back up to his father's face, finally registering the rest of the man's earlier words. "You really think I'm strong and fast?"

"Since the first night I met you. You'd have to be to hit Batman and get away."

Jason chuckled at the memory, a pink hue brushing over his cheeks. "Guess so."

In a matter of moments, Tim ran up to join them, his small frame swimming in the t-shirt he had chosen. Bruce wondered how in the hell he had managed to take in three under-sized boys, even one who had been raised by nannies and fed well-balanced meals before even arriving at the manor, like Tim had been. He pushed away the thought, knowing Tim's upbringing had more issues than a lack of food. More a lack of affection and attention. No one registered or cared of Tim had eaten everything he should have or gotten out in the fresh air as much as he needed to. They provided a paid service and, as long as Tim had survived for his parents' occasional visits, all was well.

A hint of guilt rushed through Bruce at the thought. Was he much better with his days often eaten up by Wayne Enterprises meetings, his nights taken by his life as Batman, and any free time usually reserved for the Justice League. Sure, there was Alfred, but children needed a parent.

Then, before he could descend too far in to dark, broodiness, Tim smiled up at him. "Ready when you are."

Bruce nodded, and let the Batman take over. "Choose a training weapon. We will begin with sparring. After one of you has been bested, I do not want to hear any negative comments from either side. In any fight, there is going to be a clear winner and a clear loser. What matters is what we learn to help us with the next fight, to ensure we come out on top. Am I clear?"

"And Bruce likes it on top…" trailed Jason, earning a cuff to his arm. "Ow! I mean, clear, sir."

"Sloppiness will earn you push-ups until I feel any excess energy and lack of focus have been dealt with."

Jason grumbled, following Tim to the weapon's case. Tim, after surveying the many options before his eyes landed on the bō staff. Though it was heavy in his hand, he hoped the long-range weapon would provide him some assistance where his stature did not. His elder brother, meanwhile, hovered around the more shiny options, pulling out a couple of dulled short-swords.

After a quick nod from Batman, Jason rushed forward, all bravado and no calculation. Tim, meanwhile, hung back, scanning his brother for signs of weakness or obvious patterns. A difficult task when a short sword came rushing toward him. He dodged, though not fast enough, and the dulled metal collided with the thin padding of his training pants. Tim bit back a yelp and returned his focus on Jason, taking in notes and making sure to keep his feet moving.

"Jason, think before your movements! Don't just make them. Timothy, you need to move more. You're making yourself an easy target. Both of you need to focus on smaller goals, not just the overall goal of knocking down your opponent. Strategize!"

Tim danced more around the mat, even lunging his staff at his brother, watching how Jason reacted. Though the elder quickly moved out of the way, Tim took in how he moved back and the foot he tended to favor when dodging. Still, for every movement Tim attempted to process, Jason would make three more, landing another strike to his brother's middle. The force of the blow sent Tim hunching forward, the wind rushing out of his lungs.

A coughing fit followed, punishing his ribs and chest. Jason paused in his assault. It was one thing to win a fight dirty against a prick gangster on the street, it was another thing to fight dirty against his little brother. Bruce watched as Tim forced himself to recover as quickly as possible, as Jason stood on the side assessing whether the younger boy was okay and if it was okay to continue. Any concern about his youngest transformed into pride in the pair of them. Tim was learning strength and resolve, whether he thought so or not, and Jason was learning patience. They were small hints, but they were something.

Once Tim recovered, they were at it again, bō on short sword, brother fighting brother, budding hero against budding hero. Tim managed to connect several times, and Jason hung back a time or two, thinking one step further than when he had started. Bruce took count of how many strikes would end in bruises, all too aware of how Alfred would react to each and every one of them.

After a good hour of fighting, Jason's sheer strength and speed won out over Tim's caution. The younger boy sat on the mat, one of the short swords pointed at his throat, and he nodded in defeat. "Good game?"

"This wasn't a game," Batman stated, tone cool. "This was training. This was studying. I'll have notes for you both in a few minutes. For now, shower and change. We'll review and work on mental strengthening when you return. Ten minutes."

Tim let out a sigh of relief, while it was Jason's turn to let out a low groan as he made his way to the showers. Before Tim could follow, Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes meeting his son's.

"Don't think you lost today because you were defeated. You did well. We will go over what you can improve, but you have already shown progress. I want you to keep that in mind."

"Yes, sir. I'll get even better. I promise," he replied, urgency heavy in his tired voice.

"You already are, Timothy. Do you want to know why Jason bested you just now?"

"Because he's better than I am."

Batman shook his head. "He's stronger and faster, as anyone who is older is likely to be, but that's not why. Not the main reason, anyway. You were defeated the moment you set foot on the mat. Do you know why?"

Tim thought for a few moments, running through the data and playing back his movements in his head. After a while, aside from the physical differences in the two, Tim came up short and shook his head.

"You had already resigned yourself to losing. You cannot let your confidence waiver like that. The minute you let yourself think you will lose a fight, that is when you are already down. You have strengths you can use at your disposal the same as Jason and anyone else. Remember that the next time you are in battle, either in this cave or out of it. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Signaling him with another nod, Batman watched as Tim headed toward the showers, his shoulders held a little higher than they had been earlier. He hoped the words would stick. With all of his boys, he hoped the lessons he imparted on them clung in some part to the backs of their minds. He knew now that he had to have similar words with Jason, instilling confidence in his middle son's intelligence, regardless of his lack of a proper education. It would take time. Bruce knew this. For all three of them, getting them to know what he knew about them, getting them to see themselves as what he knew they could be, would take time.

He supposed this was what it was like to be a father to his sons.