A/N: Hello, my maternal instincts shrieked at me until this was done and they still haven't chilled the fuck out. I've already posted most of this barring the final section on Tumblr so if you're from there, then hi! Yay! If you're not well, I work under the url 'muffinstopscastle' and I will be posting more ficlets that won't make it on here.

Anyway, this is mostly born out of my frustration with DC and Loxare's crippling and fantastic fic 'Mission'. I'd been thinking for a while how it should have been Bruce's kids who tell him who he was. And how during the whole ARC they were kind of…forgotten?

Okay, if you think this is OOC…well, Bruce has 'Great-Dad Disease' and it's incurable, so fuck it.

This story is also called, 'I (unlike DC) know how to make the best out of a bad situation', so enjoy!\\\

"Who are you?"

Was this some sort of fucking test? If it was Jason was way past Bruce's tutelage, he was though barely past his indestructible boiling hatred for the Bat so pushing it wasn't the smartest way to make a play. Bruce should know that.

Hell, Bruce was usually careful with him. Jason could see that now after the green had faded from his vision and those observational skills he was prided on were put into play.

Jason tilted his head, fist shoved into his hoodie. "Never thought you'd beat around the bush…if you don't want me around than just say it."

Batman didn't beat around the bush. Maybe this was like a new shtick that Jason hadn't picked up on.

Bruce though, he looked real weird. Like relaxed – main factor that something wasn't orderly in the world. Bruce raised an eyebrow, his mouth lax in amusement. It was fucking strange, "I would. If I knew who you were," he replied.

Jason stepped back, a little hurt that Bruce's blues weren't picking up recognition or anything really. He thought Bruce projected blank monotone usually but in comparison to the lifelessness, Bruce might as well have depicted the Scream for him in his orbs. "You really don't know who I am?" he checked.

Bruce tilted his head, still confident, subconsciously in control of the situation. "I'm sorry," he replied, which was the real scary bit.

Jason actually stepped back. "I'll just…" he couldn't stand those empty eyes staring at him. That was his Dad, they weren't supposed to be dead. "I'll get out of your hair…which you've now got a lot of; beard – weird choice, you looking all Bear Grilles," Jason muttered.

Already turning into his room, the one he'd just vacated. He packed in the clothes he'd taken out – he'd planned to do his washing in the Manor's top notch washing machine but well, that's gone. "Are you…This is your room," Bruce stated from the door.

A fact, probably deduced from that big brain of his and not his actual memory of who Jason was. He shrugged, "Used to be," he allowed, shoulders hunched at the calculating yet still so stilted stare at his back.

He grabbed his phone, "You're one of the children I adopted," Bruce deduced.

Jason huffed, it wasn't funny, but fuck, Bruce didn't even know that.

"I've…Tim called after I first arrived. You're not Tim," Even how he said Pretender's name was chilling, no inflection, only slight hesitance like the name didn't sit on his tongue right.

One day Jason might've rejoiced. That day wasn't around here, "No. I'm not Timmy," Jason sounded, crouching to rummage around for his recharger. He had it last night, but it was alluding him right then.

Jason wanted to get the hell out of there. "You're not Damian," Fuck, he even said the demon's name wrong. "Damian's much younger than you, the only other sons I've adopted are…allegedly dead."

Jason found Bruce over his shoulder. He must have really fucked some grand Bat Clan plan, great they kept him included, at least so he didn't fuck it up. Bruce had his intense look pinned on Jason, it wasn't all that familiar – missing the colossal disappointment and what in hindsight might have been warmth.

Jason shook his head. He'd buy a new recharger; he shuffled his pack over his shoulder. "It's been fun, really," Jason swallowed.

Bruce caught his elbow in a position Jason couldn't get out of unless he dislocated his shoulder. The bastard didn't even know what he was doing, "Who are you?"

"Leaving," Jason declared, teal eyes catching the blues only slightly above his. He wasn't Bruce's kid, hadn't been for a while and this bastard definitely wasn't Bruce.

"Master Jason!" Fuck.

Alfred looked frazzled, only noticing Bruce when Jason shifted his position to reveal him. His eyes widened at his mistake, whatever this was. The brunt of it was being taken out on Alfred.

Bruce finally dropped him, clearly thinking over the implications of the facts he'd already set in order. "Hey Alfie," Jason greeted; smile tight as he bent to embrace his grandfather figure. "Damn, when was the last time you ate?"

This was just unnatural. "Where have you been, Master Jason?" Alfred asked instead, withered fingers gripping Jason's hoodie at the elbow.

"Around you know, hanging out with Kory," Jason swiveled his pointed finger upwards to insinuate his friend's spaceship which may have left him in the dark to key Bat Clan plots.

He shifted two fingers into a signal, silently telling Alfred to call him when he could with an update about the situation. Alfred smile waned, his nod sharp.

"You're not going anyway," Bruce insisted. Well, maybe he hadn't hidden that signal as well as he should have. Bruce stepped forward, "You're my son. I can feel that," Really? Bruce's orbs were a little glazed, perhaps a spark of emotion nonexistence besides Bruce's regular intense emotions. "Why wasn't I told that you were alive?"

The question was more directed Alfred. Jason set a hand on Alfred's shoulder, "Hey, lay off. Maybe you did something shitty and Alfie was protecting you from the fucking shame?"

Bruce didn't arch an eyebrow at the language. Instead he tilted his head, contemplating, "That's not it."

"You don't know fucking everything B," the familiar insult already rolling off his tongue.

"I'd know a lot more if things weren't hidden from me," Bruce retorted, without a single hesitance. Jason really hated that even without memories (because this is what this had to be) Bruce still sucked it to him right in the gut.

Still, this was fucking ironic. "You figure," Jason deadpanned. "I'm late, for a meeting, or something. Catch you later," Jason threw a peace sign over his shoulder.

"Jason," Oh no, Jason wasn't falling for that. Foreign as the name sounded in Bruce's voice, it was just wrong and Jason's shoulder hunched upward, "Jason!"

And Jason paused, because there was a whole lot of desperation there that Jason recognized all too well. So that's what that emotion was, it wasn't rage or anger, or bittering disappointment – it was desperation.

Well, fuck that's knowledge he didn't need. "What?" he shot back.

Bruce's hand landed on his shoulder and it was fucking familiar; Jason had to steady his heart. Bruce hesitated, "Stay for dinner."

It wasn't a fucking question and that was just so Batman that Jason had to duck his head. He tried to find Alfred but he'd disappeared, probably off to tell the rest of the family that Jason had fucked it up.

The lack of recognition, intense emotions; god Bruce's eyes had always been the window to all Jason wanted to see. That he cared and mattered to Bruce, and now it was so miniscule. So tiny, Jason might as well have been a stranger with semi-important answers in his hands.

Jason nudged his nose with the back of his hand, "Okay."

Bruce smiled. And Jason realized why the Bat Clan never told Bruce what was up because Batman never smiled like that, and it'd been years since Bruce even attempted.

Jason had fucked this over. Shit.

Dinner was well, fucking awkward. Jason had actually escaped, been half way to his apartment back in Park Row then cursed, turned on his heel and headed back to the Manor. He'd given his fucking word, and Jason wasn't going to fuck over Bruce if he didn't even know why yet.

Bruce watched for a long time, which was familiar and twice as unnerving as usual considering the situation. "How old are you?" Bruce finally asked just after Jason had chewed half a potato skin.

"Um," Jason swallowed it down, "Don't actually know," he admitted. He didn't think being brain damaged without the ability to compute or recall or recognize meant he grew mentally. Physically, it was anyone's guess – when did he claw out his own grave?

"You have to have a roundabout number," Bruce stated again. Weird, Bruce wouldn't have checked earlier well…Jason wouldn't have answered.

Jason shrugged, moving his peas, "Nineteen, maybe. Doesn't really matter," he shrugged again.

"It matters," Bruce insisted, setting his fork down. That old intensity cropping out, "What day do we celebrate your birthday?"

Jason pulled a face.

"Or we don't celebrate it all," Bruce deduced.

Jason shrugged, "It's been a while." Anyway what day was he supposed to list, his first day of birth or the second? Should his death day even be brought up?

Jason should have really talked to Alfred about this. "We were close, weren't we," Bruce swallowed. Jason didn't know where he was pulling this information but by the pain in his expression it might have been unwillingly stolen from Jason.

"That was a long time ago," Jason repeated. He sighed, "Look, it's in the past. We were looking up when," he waved a hand in Bruce's general direction.

"We didn't discuss it, did we?" Bruce shook his head slightly; overwhelmed by the information Jason was unwilling letting out. "Our…bridge has something to do with you being legally cleared dead."

"Fuck," Jason swiped a hand over his cheek, "B. You really don't want to get into this," he warned.

"I do," Bruce insisted, brow determined.

"No, you really don't," Jason corrected.

He tightened his jaw, hoping Bruce would leave it there but Bruce was always a stubborn bastard.

Surprisingly, he dropped it. For another subject Jason really didn't want to kick with the heel of his boot, "Is Richard also alive?"

At first Jason had a brief, 'who the fuck is Richard' until it clicked. "Dick," he corrected, because it just sounded so wrong. Bruce pulled a face, "He goes by Dick."

Jesus fuck this was difficult.

"Do you really not remember, like anything?" Jason felt like stabbing something, preferably with a blunt knife into some shit's stomach.

Bruce's head wavered, as if shaken inside out. "I feel these…impressions," his gaze found Jason's. "The more I spend time with you the more I feel like you should be happier, smiling with teeth. Blood trailing down your chin from a broken nose and I, I think you're hair was coarse but…wispy," Bruce said with a small, faraway smile.

Jason heart wrenched at the implication. Fuck, his Dad cared and he'd…and Jason had…

Bruce shook his head, "But it's not a memory," he corrected.

"Actually it might be a few of them," Jason admitted, voice hoarse, seconds from laughing just to keep the tears from bubbling out.

Bruce blinked, shaken from his review, "Yeah?" he checked.

Jason nodded, lopsided grin rather crooked in regret. "Just a few," he agreed.

"Break your nose that often," Bruce prompted, over his drink, thanking Alfred for the tea.

Alfred spared Jason a warm smile, disappearing back inside the kitchen. Jason took that as incentive to just tell the truth. "I deserved it most of time," Jason shrugged.

"I doubt that," Bruce replied instantly, and Jason's heart warmed a little.

And not in rage, which was a new and a wholly breathtaking experience.

Jason forcefully uncurled his shoulders from where they'd fallen in.

It was oddly companionable after that, like back in Jason's Robin days just without the rare smiles in his direction behind a newspaper or his coffee mug. It was weird, a new direction of the same path Jason had always seen – oddly terrifying in its unknown.

Alfred brought desert out. It was Neapolitan. Jason could've kissed Alfred, "You're a god, Alfie," he proclaimed.

"It's always nice to be acknowledged for who we truly are, Master Jason," Alfred drawled.

Jason snickered over his spoonful, just as Alfred stealthily snuck back into the kitchen.

"Your favorite," Bruce checked, tilting the ice cream dripping off his spoon.

Jason shrugged again.

Bruce's brows furrowed again and Jason knew that look. He sighed and leaned back, "What you want to know?"

Bruce smiled wryly, as if taking into account Jason's obvious ability to read him. "You're siblings know your alive," Wasn't even a question. "You talk to them, right?"

Jason really didn't know where this conversation stemmed from. He shrugged, "Not really."

Bruce obviously wanted more information than that.

Jason sighed, "I check in to make sure their all with the living, their limbs are in check; the usual."

"That's the usual," Bruce deadpanned. He set his ice cream down, suddenly overcome by something dark and Dad-like.

He should really fix this. "It's my fault it's like that," Jason didn't even know why he was attempting to protect them from Bruce's now nonexistent wrath. "When I came back after…the thing, I wasn't alright – in the head, you know."

It wasn't something he liked admitting, frankly because he still wasn't alright there. Only Jason was much better at keeping a tap on those violent emotions, at empathizing not just with tortured victims. It took a lot and Jason wasn't going back but, bringing it up was like oxygenating a flame. Should always be careful the thought never get to big.

Bruce frowned, "How so?"

He wasn't answering that. Jason snorted, fingers burying for purchase in his arms. "Be thankful you don't remember," he bit out.

"How so," Bruce repeated.

"I just wasn't!"

Jason inhaled sharply, grimacing at the sharp rise clogging up his throat and unclenched his hand from the knife he'd driven into the table to scrub at his cheek.

He'd just fucking ruined this, hadn't he? Fuck. Jason scratched at his face. "I don't hurt people," he croaked.

Jason didn't want to start this fucking fight again. He was only as dangerous as the others. He wasn't a psychopath, didn't need to be monitored, checked, tried again and again.

"I didn't think you would," Bruce said softly.

Jason wasn't a criminal. Wasn't an animal like those monsters. He wasn't. "Sure…" he muttered breathlessly. Jason didn't believe that.

Suddenly, Bruce was at his side, practically crouched to have their faces level and his large palm warming Jason's shoulder. "You're not a bad person, Jason."

It could've been that Jason wanted that to be true that he really heard his Dad in there.

"To be frank," Bruce continued, reaching around Jason to slink the knife out of the wood and set it down. Jason stilled, "My first concern is that you don't let this anger out on yourself."

"What?"

"This anger…that you're safe; that you're not the recipient of it," and while it wasn't a question. It sounded like more than one when Bruce had earlier when a question had been posed.

"What?" Jason repeated. He didn't at all get the question, why Bruce said that.

Bruce's face crumpled, more Dad than he's witnessed since Jason had found him. His fingers tightened over Jason's shoulder as Dad wrapped him up in a strong embrace.

Bruce didn't smell the same. The ever present Kevlar gone alongside the damp overcurrent the Bat Cave let off but the rest, that was all Dad.

Jason rested his head on the familiar shoulder. His fingers hesitantly reaching to clutch Bruce's shirt while the other hung loose.

Jason had really missed him. When was the last time Jason had done this? Before he died? Had they even hugged before he died? Jason didn't think they did.

"You're an ass," Jason sighed, disappointed.

Bruce's fingers stopped at the soft hairs at the back of his neck. Pulling back with a semi-confused and pleased smile, "Probably," Bruce agreed.

"Seriously," Jason pressed fingers into his own eyeballs, "You do this whole listening and talking thing when you're like this. For fuck's sake, Bruce."

Bruce huffed, "It doesn't feel very natural," he admitted.

"Then, why?" Jason asked, just to divert attention from his slightly bleary vision and clasped his hands together to stop reaching out for Bruce's shirt. He wasn't some fucking child.

Bruce contemplated, "Nothing to stop me. I don't have any defining memories. So I don't have any memories to stop me from falling back into habits or behaviors that I might have dismissed or done my best to change."

Jason almost laughed; just how he talked was all Dad-like. "Clean slate, huh," Jason said.

"Yeah," Bruce smiled, softly and thoughtful, "A rebirth of sorts."

Jason laughed.

He didn't mean to but Jason spent the night, tucked into his old comforter and actually had a dreamless sleep. Fuck if he knew when that happened the last time, and then his phone had to ring, "What?" he growled.

"You've talked to Father," Damian declared without preamble. He and Bruce really had a way with words, "Well, Todd."

"It's five in the fucking morning; shouldn't you be getting ready for pre-school?"

"Todd," Damian demanded voice scratchy over the phone.

"What do you want?" Jason sighed, resigned to his fate and stared at the clear ceiling illuminated by the sliver of light coming from between his curtains.

He massaged his forehead, "Tell me of my Father," Damian demanded again.

"Be clearer," he growled out.

It was too early for this. "Is…" And Damian hesitated; fuck this must really be sitting on the brat. "Is he well?" he finally got out.

Jason shuffled to rest on his headboard, tucking his knees up to angle an arm on them. That wasn't really what the demon was asking, "Yeah. I don't think he's ever been more relaxed.

"He's still Bruce though," Jason continued, "Just doesn't have the memories to back it up."

"What do you mean, Todd?" Damian asked, quieter than earlier as if settling down for a long haul that'd soothe his soul.

This really shouldn't be put in Jason's hands. "I mean he's still a detective, still thinks it all through and puts it together so he probably knows more than I intended for him to figure out actually; shit."

"Well, that would happen regardless," Damian said smugly, like assuming his father capable of any less was preposterous.

Jason rolled his eyes. It was too early for this but he didn't really hate it. "Where does Bruce think you are anyway?" he checked.

Damian paused, "With Drake," he replied simply.

"Seriously," Jason snorted, "And that just went down?"

"It had to Todd, Father wasn't…he doesn't…" Damian puttered off with a huge exhale. Yeah, Jason understood. Because Bruce was Bruce but didn't look at them like they meant something.

It must have been even worse for his actual kid.

"Yeah, I get it," Jason allowed, leaning back. "You might want to pop in though – I think he wants to reach out to us again. So yeah, it won't be like before but for me at least that's a good thing."

"Yes, well it isn't for me, Todd," Damian snapped.

Jason really pitied the kid.

His door creaked open and Jason arched an amused eyebrow at Bruce in the doorway. He looked vaguely surprised, "Subconscious action, I'm presuming," Bruce figured.

"You liked checking in on us," Jason clarified in agreement.

Damian was silent on the other side but Jason was hyper aware of his stuttered breathing. "You're on the phone with one of your siblings," Bruce said.

"You listening in?" Jason checked.

Bruce blinked, "No." Damn it was true, that's just so Batman of him.

"Todd," Damian declared, as if a new calling was about to be unleashed.

Jason nudged his nose with the back of his hand, "What, pipsqueak?"

"I only rang to tell you that Cain will be dropping by to visit Father today," Well that was a development. Jason hadn't ever met the famed sister, introductions all round, "And if my schedule allows it I will also be visiting the day after."

"Yeah, what schedule is this?" Jason drawled.

"Do you understand, Todd?" Damian checked.

Jason rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I got it. When should you be around?"

"Tomorrow," Damian did fuck all to clarify, "Do keep up, Todd." And then he hung up.

Such an aggravating demon brat; Jason exhaled a groan. He set his phone down and turned to Bruce, "You've got visitors. The sister today and your bio kid tomorrow," Jason shuffled to sit on the edge of his bed.

Bruce frowned, opening the door slightly wider. "You've never met her," and there he was again.

"How do you do that?" Jason grumbled from where he tried to rub the sleep from his face.

Bruce entered, tapping a finger at the glass of water on Jason's nightstand. Jason remembered and took a few gulps gratefully, "How come you've never met your sister?"

Bruce was doing an odd face. Like, half-concerned, semi-confused and the other bit all affronted. It was a lot more emotion than he expected so early in the morning after little recognition yesterday.

Jason shrugged, "Just didn't happen. I wasn't around when she first showed up and by the time I did show, she'd already moved to Hong Kong."

He really didn't expect the hand ruffling his sleep tangled hair or the saddened downcast to Bruce's gaze. Like he somehow failed Jason, which was so fucking stupid for the smartest guy out there.

"Let's go have breakfast," Bruce decided.

Jason held still as the warmth of his hand disappeared and nodded, "Be down in a sec."

Bruce shut the door behind him.

And Jason buried his head in his hands and grunted out, "Fuck."

Cass's fingers clenched and unclenched, twice.

She'd defeated Shiva, knocking upon the door of home should be simple in comparison. Cass had come to find the simple things were never simple to her.

And usually to Bruce.

She didn't particularly want that to be different. They'd coexisted in their mutual understanding of human nature without being capable of submerging themselves in it.

Cass had heard in an off handed comment from Tim just how much the change in Bruce had pained him.

To her eyes, would Cass actually find a stranger? Her sight was so particular, specific and Bruce was very defined. That he was changed now might make him virtually unrecognizable.

This was stupid. Cass would recognize Bruce.

This was fear. And while not an emotion Cass experienced often, she knew how to handle it.

Cass rapped her knuckles on the door. Her thumb rubbing at her fingers in her closed fist as the door swung open, "Miss Cassandra," Alfred greeted.

"Alfred," Cass responded in kind. Her genuine smile tinged with anxiousness.

It was habit to expect Batman to materialize from the shadows. Cass exhaled that notion. She wasn't altogether prepared.

"You're nervous," Cass noticed. She frowned up at Alfred.

Alfred closed the door behind her, an attempt to hide his body's larger tells. "I have pure faith in all of the occupants of this house to come to an understanding," he said.

It was true.

"But you don't think that's going to happen," Cass checked.

Alfred huffed and drew himself taller, "You're all a rather volatile bunch. All together I fear the Manor might not be able to take it," he teased.

This was also true.

"It'll be different now," Cass said, because that's the only positive she had going into a conversation with this new Bruce.

Alfred centered on her semi-pout, "Not as much as you fear, my dear." He patted Cass's shoulder, "Master Bruce is in the second level lounge."

Cass dropped her duffle bag where she stood and trotted up the grand staircase. She heard a faint murmur of music from Jason's door.

Was...Jason was here.

Her Bruce would have eternally rejoiced, unable to hide his happiness at Jason's return to under the protective lining of his cape.

Bruce was very emotional for a man prided on distancing himself emotionally. But that was just Bruce.

What would this Bruce do?

There was a creak of floorboards under a figure's weight. Cass didn't startle, her head tilting to take in the newcomer.

It was difficult to recognize him.

It was only the knowledge that this had to be Bruce that halted fighter instincts. All his tells were wrong, different, softer yet calmer, less there, less intense.

It was like someone had decided to portray Batman by only his shadow. "You're Cassandra," Bruce recognized.

No, there was more there. It wasn't hidden; it was just calmer, less of a blip on the radar that was all. It was still Bruce.

Cass still felt the trust and warmth from him. It was still Bruce, even though it wasn't really.

Cass realized she might actually have to reply verbally. Usually they read intentions and actions off one another. This wasn't a welcome change.

Cass nodded.

His blue eyes calculated her actions in a collected manner, "My daughter," Bruce stated.

He wished to see her reaction.

Cass only nodded again.

There were people who believed Bruce was difficult to read. Cass's language was that of bodies, the equivalent of keeping her mouth shut was a pure stillness.

But Bruce could usually read her anyhow. What would this Bruce do?

His deciphering stare was overtaken by a barely there smile and he stepped forward to tower over her. It was a familiar position for them.

Cass stared back up, lips twitching without intending to.

"I hope I do right by you," Bruce determined. That was new.

Usually Cass had to read those vulnerable intentions off him. But also usually Bruce hauled the weight of grief on his shoulders and that was absent.

Bruce was different. She wouldn't get Batman back. Not like before.

Cass tilted her head. But maybe that was alright, "You will," Cass noted in full faith.

Cass unlocked her window, airing out her room after a few long months of disuse. It felt good to be home, cool breeze and semi-fresh air.

She snorted out the faint stench of ash. Cass hadn't known Jason smoked.

Cass yanked on the upper window pane, easily swinging onto the upper window pane. She spotted Alfred dusting a book shelf through the semi-curtained window.

Best keep silent.

Cass clambered up the larger pane, cradling through the small indents to reach the drain pipe. From there wasn't even noteworthy to swing delicately onto the rooftop.

Jason was more relaxed than she expected. Cass had seen footage of him as Red Hood, eerily fractured, screamingly loud just with a clench of his fists.

A sparrow perched beside him tweeted at Cass.

"Fuck," Jason Todd startled and forcefully exhaled. He grumbled, "Warn a dude."

Where would the fun be in that?

Jason scowled at her smug grin. His body tilted away from her as his fist tightened over his cigarette.

Cass still parked beside him, swinging her legs over the rooftop despite Jason's full body freeze. There were woods as far as the eye could see with sparse buildings cropping up in the distance, illuminated by the sun setting in the west.

It was peaceful up here.

Cass sucked in a deep breath hoping to unwind Jason's tense frame. He obviously required speech to know of her intentions.

Jason was distrustful but not for long. "I'm Cass," she tried.

"The sister I've been hearing so much about," Jason nodded, kicking his long legs. That's a lie. He tilted his head, "You're smaller than I figured."

"I look taller standing over my opponents," Cass certified.

"Yeah," Jason snickered but he was still troubled, "That's usually how it works."

Cass didn't know what he expected.

She'd heard a lot about Jason, through Bruce and Tim and Alfred and Dick, and later through blotchy footage. But Cass had thought he'd be excited to meet her.

Cass was excited. She kicked her heels.

"Look," Jason finally began, "I know the drill."

The meeting siblings drill?

Frankly Cass's experience with that involved a lot of bloodshed. This wasn't really like that.

Jason snubbed out his cigarette after a final drag, "Can you keep the lecture to a minimum five? Or at least not cart me off in civvies; it'd be a load for all of us."

"Cart you off?" Cass tried. She didn't understand the phrase.

"Look," Jason grunted, "I fucking know you're a sticker for B's shtick. No one needs that fucking preach right now."

Did Jason research her? Not that she would preach. Cass was more of an ultimatum kind of girl.

Jason bashed his knuckles onto his nose, "I don't know. I'll stay out of your hair you stay out of mine. That gel?" His hand making curving gestures.

"No," Cass murmured. That's not what she wanted to do at all. "You're my brother," Cass concluded.

"You got like three of those," Jason grumbled. His scowl was barely that.

"Four," Cass corrected.

Jason gauged her from a tilted distance, "You're taking this way better than I expected. No undeniable urge to slap cuffs on my wrists?" he checked.

Cass smirked.

"No foot long threaten session?" Jason questioned.

"Not yet," Cass mused.

"Damn," Jason whistled, "Guess I misjudged you."

His shoulders unwound their tension. Jason truly did remind her of Stephanie. Only Jason shouldn't be left alone in concern that he does something stupidly lethal.

Between all of their family that wasn't difficult to request.

That reminded her, she should call Stephanie while in town. She missed her best friend. But right now, Cass wanted to learn her newly found brother.

"Want to make it up to me?" Cass tilted her head, rubbing the skin by her nose.

Jason's teal eyes narrowed; "Depends on what you got in mind."

"Ice cream," Cass immediately replied, "You owe me ice cream. Two scoops," she popped up a duo of fingers.

Jason grinned lopsidedly. "Don't know, it's a bit steep," he cheeked.

"Three," Another finger joined the duo. Her expression clear that the number could still rise, "Higher?" Cass egged.

"You're a cold hearted bat," Jason drawled, palms raised in surrender. He was happy though, it built with excitement and hope.

Cass didn't attempt to rein in the grin crinkling her eyes shut.

Jason shifted, heading towards the drainpipe. Cass blinked and tilted her head.

He gestured to the gutter, "You want it now, right?" Jason checked. As if expecting Cass to take it back. She just hadn't expected him to be eager.

Cass nodded, feeling her dimples gorging into her cheeks. "Chocolate," Cass enlightened as Jason took the gutter in hand and began clambering down.

"Knew you were alright," Jason muttered. Cass knew Jason was too.

Damian cleared his throat, "Cain," he greeted.

Cain twirled, not even remotely startled from her position atop a hood of one of father's expensive cars. Damian pouted.

"Damian," Cain smiled.

His eyes narrowed, "Why aren't you inside? Is it – is it father?" Damian questioned, lips pressed against his teeth.

"No," Cain shook her head. She stepped off the hood, "I was waiting for you," Cain said.

Damian scoffed. "I'm perfectly capable of entering my home without your assistance, Cain," he enlightened.

His chin tipped upwards.

Cain tilted her head, eyebrow arched. She didn't fully believe him, "Stop that," Damian demanded.

Cain always read him. Despite when he didn't require it. It was infuriating and unnecessary.

Cain's eyebrow arched further, her lips softening the expression.

"Stop that," Damian demanded. His shoulders barricaded his ears as his fists tightened.

Cain clasped his shoulder. Damian attempted to dodge but she held firm. Her knees bent to level their gazes, "He's excited to meet you," Cain said.

"I know he is," Damian insisted. He pouted, muscles in his jaw twanging as he clenched his fists. "Only…" he began.

If Cain insisted on reading what she should not then Damian might as well have use of it.

Cain awaited him.

He cleared his throat, "Only the last time father and I met. I wasn't – it didn't go as planned." Okay, Damian was a little concerned, for father that is.

Damian hadn't wanted to start again. He and father worked and then, father forgot all about him.

"You know better," Cain indulged. Her slanted eyes sharpened at the softness tilting her features.

Damian chewed his cheeks, "But father doesn't," he retorted.

"No, he doesn't," Cain agreed.

Was his father even his father is he wasn't Batman? "I would have your…techniques in approaching him," Damian demanded.

She massaged the back of his left shoulder, where Damian still healed from a torn ligament. Damian sucked in a deep relaxing breath.

"Be yourself," Cain embarked. It wasn't remotely helpful. Damian glared. Cain smirked, "He still loves you," she tried.

He shuffled back, "He doesn't know me," Damian growled.

"You didn't know him," Cain reminded. She skimmed a hand through his hair and rested their foreheads together.

It was a move his mother used to do. Damian didn't know how Cain had known that.

Damian sniffled.

"And you still love him," Cain said. Her smile rounded into something sadder, "He's your father," she added.

Damian sucked back that damp emotion, "Speaking from experience, Cain?"

Cain wasn't impressed. Her eyebrow arched as she gave his hair a final rough ruffle. She and Grayson were incorrigible.

"Go," Cain nudged.

Damian raised his chin, "I'm going, Cain. There's no need to shove," he enlightened.

Cain remained in the civilian garage, set to relax against the windshield of a sleek car while Damian trudged inside the familiar narrow hallways.

He should have brought Titus or Alfred the Cat, they would have enjoyed being home.

Damian located Pennyworth first. He was in the kitchen, wiping down dishes. "Pennyworth," he greeted.

Pennyworth carefully settled the cutlery down, drying his palms upon his apron to smile appraisingly at Damian. "Master Damian," he greeted.

Damian nodded in acknowledgement.

"It's wonderful to have you home once again. I take you've already found your siblings?" Alfred asked.

Damian frowned, "I've spoken with Cain," he reported. He hadn't thought, "Is Todd still here?" he questioned.

Alfred smiled, "It seems more often than not these past few days." That was unexpected.

Damian didn't trust Todd. But in father's eyes was there any difference between Todd and Damian? "Where is my father?" Damian demanded.

"In his study, I believe. Master Bruce is prudent in locating his documentation of his guardianship over you all," Alfred revealed.

His cheeks sagged in slight sadness. Damian bet those files where locked securely in the Cave.

"I'll retrieve them later today," Alfred mused. He busied his hands with the dishes, "Master Bruce is rather anxious to see you again."

"I'd expect," Damian said quietly. He peered out the large windows at the sunlit yard.

Alfred glanced over his shoulder, "I take it you'll be staying for dinner, Master Damian."

Damian hesitated, but he and his father would come to an agreement. He nodded, "Yes," Damian declared.

"I'll be sure to set a plate down," Pennyworth replied. He shifted back to his dishes, clearly telling Damian to return to what he was supposed to do.

It'd already been decided. Damian and his father would come to a smooth, calm, collected arrangement.

Damian steeled his heart and knocked on father's study door. He opened it immediately after a faint shuffle from indoors, "Father?" he called out.

Father wasn't injured. Only scruffier than Damian had imagined, father wasn't as burdened as he recalled. Odd, what amnesia can do to the greatest man alive.

Damian shut the door at his beck. "Damian," Father appraised.

Damian was familiar with being scrutinized. His father though wasn't searching for what his mother or his trainers searched for, and the gaze only cooled into a spark of fond sentiment.

"You're smaller than I imagined," Father admitted.

That was ironic.

Damian snorted, "Those where my sentiments when we first met." Though Damian assured that this was where the similarities between those times ended. "You look well, father," Damian offered.

Father crouched before him. It wasn't a tactically sound position, "Better now. You're all coming back home," Father accepted.

Damian considered, "Is that what you wish?" he verified with an arched eyebrow, "For us to return?"

"More than anything," Father clarified.

Damian frowned, partially glaring up at his father. "That wasn't your sentiment earlier," he reminded. Father hadn't even attempted to contact him, or any of his 'siblings'.

"That's true," Father agreed quietly. Damian hoped he felt shame over that. His hand brushed against the healing scab beneath Damian's hairline, "What happened here?" he questioned.

Damian dodged back, "It was a foolish misjudgment. It won't happen a second time," he reported.

Next time Damian would not turn his back on a 'victim' unless utterly certain they were in fact a victim. They'd almost decapitated his hair from his skull.

But this was not the time to discuss that.

"Don't change the subject, father," Damian declared. "I doubt you simply awoke one morning and remembered you had children, what has changed?" he questioned.

Father judged the strength of Damian's jaw, softening into a sigh as he sat on the window couch. He patted the seat beside him.

Fine, Damian sat. He peered outside at the garden that hadn't seen Titus' terror in a few months and returned to pin a stare upon his father. "Well," Damian prompted.

"You're right," Father said. Damian knew that. Father exhaled, "I didn't just wake up one day and decide to reconnect with my children."

Damian crossed his arms and Father blinked down at him in tender warmth Damian had only come to learn once he lived in his father's house.

"For a long while already, I've had the sense that something was missing," Father admitted. "I couldn't put my finger on what exactly, helping at the children center soothed me somewhat but that wasn't it."

Father smiled at Damian, his large hand massaging through Damian's hair. Damian allowed it, the tightness in his shoulders sinking under the ministrations.

"It was when I found Jason," Father said and Damian's jaw twanged. "He was coming out of his room and it clicked: what exactly I had missed and who was meant to be here."

Damian should have visited Father. His fingers buried into the soft inside of his elbow.

Father smoothed the hair from beside Damian's scab, "You don't have to understand, Damian." That almost sounded like how father truly said his name.

"That's no excuse, father," Damian declared. He sniffed, "You didn't contact us in any form." Damian pointedly stared at Father's desk until the blurriness receded from his vision.

Father's warm hand dipped to blanket Damian's shoulder blades, "I thought there was a reason you didn't contact me. It was a wrong assumption to make," Father hastened to add.

"It was," Damian agreed tone harsh.

Oddly, Father smiled. "I'm glad you're my son," he ruffled Damian's locks.

It felt nice. His shoulders dipped, thumb rubbing at the scuffs of his knuckles. "I still don't understand," Damian revealed in a small voice, "How could you forget us?"

He felt like a child. It…Damian had to know, so it wouldn't happen again. Father never objected when he showcased weakness like this.

Father inhaled; a surveying glance over Damian to ascertain that Damian wanted those answers. He did.

"I won't ask you to understand or forgive me Damian," Father repeated. Damian awaited his true answer.

Father contemplated the correct words. "This existence: it was a void. No past, no memories, no recollection of aspirations or goals – I had nothing. I – essentially - was a void.

"It was my mistake to believe that just because I felt like that, it didn't mean it was true," Father admitted. "That I have family that needed me and hopefully will let me make it up to them," Father said.

Father didn't truly ask for permission. It was a convicted promise that Father would do all in his power to make up for his dismissal of them.

It was good to hear Father's words again, after all this time. He almost sounded like he was speaking of The Mission.

Damian sniffled, "You're acting rather peculiar, Father," he declared.

Father smiled, it was nice, soft around the sides and kinder in the eyes. It was a vulnerable position, "I'd like to learn how be that again. If you'll let me," Father offered.

Damian's lips upturned, inhaling an easy breath. "I'll allow it," he returned. Father didn't need to ask for that.

Father huffed.

"You truly are acting peculiar, Father," Damian repeated thoughtfully. Is this what amnesia did to people? All their villains might just require a fresh start.

"I wouldn't know," Father returned mildly, "How about you tell me what I've missed over tea?"

Damian checked Father's expression, genuine warmth and mild curiosity softening all the harsh edges of Batman. Damian nodded, "If you insist," he declared softly.

Damian didn't like this. "You have fiancé," he muttered. It'd only been several months. This fiancé was of the name Julie Madison with paint under her fingernails and tattoos crawling over every visible part of her skin.

Father arched an eyebrow, "Damian," he warned. An act to order Damian to remain calm and collected and in control of the situation – but Damian was not in control of the situation.

Damian didn't have to follow Batman's orders while out of uniform. His death stare was interrupted by Julie Madison.

She uncurled her arm from around Father's neck. "It's nice to finally meet you Damian," Julie Madison said.

The same could not be returned.

Julie Madison knew Damian didn't approve. Good, "You've got a great Dad here," Julie Madison said. Her fingers patted Father's chest.

Father was pushing it at the moment. Still Julie Madison didn't get to witness Damian's issues with Father's…Damian's vision narrowed. "I know," Damian retorted.

Father exhaled, head knocked to flatly stare at Damian over Julie Madison's shoulder. Damian wouldn't loosen his tongue around a perfect stranger.

"Okay," Julie Madison sighed, "I'll just go get my jacket," and she disappeared up the grand staircase to Father's room.

"Father," Damian began without preamble, "You can't be serious," he checked.

Father arched an eyebrow, solid jaw stony and gaze hard though intrigued at Damian's reluctance. He was rather concerned though, Damian saw that in the tilt of his eyebrows.

It was clear that Father was, in fact serious about this engagement.

Damian demanded, "Was Pennyworth aware of this?" He was supposed to keep an eye on Father.

"Alfred reintroduced us," Father admitted. He clearly wished Damian would accept this as reality as of now.

Damian didn't and he wouldn't.

"And Cain and Todd," Damian shot back, "I doubt they're thrilled you'd bring a civilian into the fold."

Father arched a brow; "As opposed to…?" he awaited Damian.

Damian grunted. This secret was pointless; Father was the greatest detective alive. He was bound to find out and realize the foolishness of this engagement – among other truths.

Damian would put a stop to this lie. All he had to do was convince Pennyworth of the futility, "Permission to be excused, Father," he requested.

"Permission granted," Father replied. His eyebrow arched in amusement. Well, Father wouldn't be smiling when he realized what had been kept from him.

Damian swiveled on his heel, stormed towards the kitchen and found Cain and Todd being idiots in the familial lounge. "What are you giggling about?" Damian demanded.

Todd jumped and Cain did not. One day Damian would startle her and then Damian would be smiling smugly. Until that day, Damian scowled.

"Well," Damian demanded.

Cain revealed a previously hidden book, "We're reading," she replied. Since when did Cain and Todd read together, since when did they even get acquainted?

How much had changed while he'd been away? Could he not leave any of them unattended? Damian wouldn't be able to travel the globe for business at this rate.

Damian crossed his arms, "Then why are you making such a racket?" he questioned.

"It's called laughing, pipsqueak. Try it every so often maybe it'd get the stick out your…" Todd cut off with a grunt. He turned a sharp stink eye to Cain, "Traitor," he spat.

Todd fondled his wounded ribs to Cain's shark smirk, until the latter exhaled and turned an expectant eye upon Damian, "What happened?" she asked.

It didn't taste right. Damian scrunched up his nose, "Father has a fiancé," he declared without any positive connotations.

"No, seriously," Todd prompted. Todd was also an imbecile. He soured, "If you're fucking with me…" Todd warned.

Damian scoffed, "Her name is Julie Madison and she is upstairs as we speak." As if on cue there was a thump from above their heads, where father's room sat – Damian arched an eyebrow, "You believe me now, Todd," he mocked.

Todd slouched further into the couch with a low grumble that Damian didn't catch due to Cain's sudden movement. "Cain," Damian called out.

Cain had already snatched through the door to where Father stood. Todd perked up, "This I got to see," he followed on Cain's heels.

Well, Damian could always convince Pennyworth that this was foolishness at a later date. He trotted out to catch up with his siblings and found them creating an opposing force against father.

Cain stood right beneath father's chin. Her scrutinizing stare centered on father's semi-amused and rather intrigued stare.

Todd grumbled, "She's a red head, isn't she?"

Father lips twitched further into amusement.

Todd groaned, "It's like you've all got a kink." He crossed his arms, disgruntled as he tipped onto the staircase's banisters.

Cain cocked her head, "It's new," she checked. Father nodded, intrigued at their correlated stance and swiveled his prompt stare upon Cain when she asked, "Why?"

That was an excellent question.

Damian took secondary position beside Cain. He folded his arms as Father didn't reproach, "This…engagement will not end as you intend," Damian pouted.

Julie Madison bounded down the grand staircase. "I don't know, I think it's got a chance," Julie Madison said.

Father smiled at Julie Madison.

Damian exhaled and shook his head, "You would." Father shot Damian an exasperated stare. Damian's jaw twanged.

Julie Madison patted father's shoulder. "And this must be the rest of the clan," Julie Madison prompted.

Father stepped back from Cain to curve an arm around Julie Madison's waist. "Some of them," Father agreed.

Todd snorted at the understatement. It was a miracle the entire Manor wasn't littered with strays his father found. Damian was rather proud how none of them appreciated this new development that Father had.

Father sighed. He pecked Julie Madison's lips, "I'll call you soon."

Julie Madison hummed. "It was nice seeing you," Julie Madison shifted to them with a smile. "Hopefully it won't be the last time."

Damian did.

"I'll walk you out," Father offered.

Julie Madison chuckled, "No-o. I think you've got your hands full here," Julie Madison patted father's chest.

Father sighed, smile dipping as Julie Madison detangled herself.

Once the large front door closed behind Julie Madison, Cain flashed to scrutinize Julie Madison from the window. "Cassandra," Father called.

Cain lifted a finger for a moment. Todd's sour stare had locked on Father and Damian forcefully unclenched his teeth.

Cain hummed as Julie Madison left the perimeter, gliding back to scrutinize Father from all angles. "Magic," Cain wondered aloud, "Brainwashing?" She didn't find any minor indicators to alert her if that were true.

"I thought you'd be used to the idea of me having a partner," Father contemplated. Damian frowned; Father rarely truly dated unless out in public.

Cain didn't comment, only continued her prying search and gestured for Todd or Damian to distract him.

Todd sighed, "You know that's not going to end well," he informed. His nose brushed by the back of his hand.

"Julie Madison isn't a suitable partner, Father," Damian agreed.

Oddly enough, Father's hands relaxed, a slight fond smile overcoming his features.

"Father, I suggest calling off this engagement before you both live to regret it. This…union will never work," Damian declared again.

Cain stiffened but only to bonelessly flop against Father's back. Her arms wrapped around Father's neck, "He's clean," Cain said into Father's shoulder.

Todd snorted at how Cain's toes barely skimmed the wooden boards. Cain shot him a languid smirk, eyes a little too all-knowing.

"Was there always this much suspicion when I got a date?" Father questioned.

But Father didn't date. It was an act. Cain, Todd and Damian exchanged stares – his older sibling's rather startled.

"Well," Todd curled a sympathetic mouth, "You think the lady that spawned that was normal?" he jutted a thumb at Damian.

"Watch your tongue Todd," Damian warned. He would have to convince Todd to spar later, with weapons.

Todd shrugged, "Can't say it didn't end bad, kid," he grunted. That didn't give Todd the right to speak of it.

Father interrupted, "You got shot," his voice hard. His gaze centered on Todd's collar where his shirt had drooped.

"Huh," Todd grunted, sorting his collar, "Course, I got shot. I'm a street kid, got a lot of other shit the kiddie shouldn't see," he jutted another thumb at Damian.

Damian huffed, who did have any interest in seeing Todd's 'other shit'? Damian's arms crossed.

Father tugged it back down. "That happened less than a year ago," Father stated, a sure certain order for any criminal to tell Batman what he wanted to know.

"Sure, B," Todd drawled. He stepped back, "How'd you figure that?" And he forcefully sorted his collar with an ugly glare in Father's direction.

Father didn't understand that either.

"Well, this has been great. Call me for either the pre-nub or the annulment, whichever comes first." Todd swiveled on his heel, "I think that stick in your ass is coming back, B," he grumbled.

Todd left and Father took a long moment to realign the thoughts in his head. Amnesia had definitely thrown Father.

Micro-seconds were all Father required to recollect himself in the field. Father should have learned that by this point.

Cain slid off Father's back, "I'll talk to him," Cain sympathized. She darted after Todd, pausing to pat Damian's shoulder, her stare hard and understanding that it wasn't easy for anyone right then.

Father didn't even attempt to follow them. He didn't understand how marrying a civilian set the entire family for risk. He didn't understand how none of them could be themselves with a civilian in the Manor.

It wasn't…A civilian here would always be a weasel in a cave of bats, they'd never truly be safe. "Damian," Father noticed, "Are you alright?" he questioned.

Father was a civilian. Damian had known Father wasn't Batman any longer – he wasn't a fool – but it'd never correlated that Father couldn't know. Not about their cases, or the Bat Cave, or the criminals of Gotham, or that they even patrolled the streets, or that sometimes they were injured, and there wouldn't be any breakfast case talks, or training after school, or new tricks, or secret life that was just them, or…acceptance.

Father couldn't understand what Damian had given up now. He wouldn't be able to speak of it because Damian's whole past was because Father was Batman. And Father couldn't know.

Damian stumbled back, shaking his head and motioned, "I'm fine, Father." He should have remained at Grayson's safe house.

Damian couldn't remain here. Not until this was sorted. He mouthed silently at his socks, "Permission to be dismissed," And only left once he heard the faint echo of Batman's affirmative.

"Damian!" Father called out.

He only dared to suck in a deep breath once he carefully shut his bedroom door behind him. Damian knocked his forehead against the wood.

This couldn't continue. Everyone else was willing to play this game with Father's life but Damian would not. He wouldn't stand by and watch this.

He clambered onto his bed and reached for his phone, intent on calling Grayson. Damian would discuss this with him and maybe Grayson would visit him once he returned to his safe house, in a show of pride that Damian actually rang him.

It'd be the perfect opportunity to discuss Father's predicament further.

Damian stiffened at the soft knock at his door, blinking down at Grayson's number already inputted. He exhaled, "What?" Damian ordered.

Damian curled his phone closer as Father shut the door at his beck and plopped down beside him. His mattress dipped and Damian used the monument to lean against his Father's arm, it might be a long while until they could do this again.

"I don't know what you're thinking," Father admitted. How was Father to know, he didn't know Damian.

Father rubbed his knuckles between his knees, and Damian blinked back bleariness at the familiar gesture. "You're not the same," Damian reported, voice softer and croaker than he'd intended.

"Probably," Father agreed.

"Definitely," Damian shot back. He tightened the gnash of his teeth, straightening his spine to stand on his own accord.

He'd have to tell Father he wished to move back in with Drake. Damian would fix this and then return, Father would thank him for that, right? His fingers clenched over his phone.

"But," Father interrupted, "I know that I love you just as much as I did."

Father – Father loved him?

Like a benevolent beacon of light, Father' face shone with sincerity and tenderness, illuminating the path before him. Damian couldn't leave Father. Not like this.

Father loved…Damian balanced his head on his Father's chest and with the steady heartbeat loud in his ears he said, "I love you too, Father."

Father pressed a kiss to his callous hair, thick arm cradled around him, protective and collected enough to try to hold Damian in. "I've never doubted that," Father murmured.

Damian held to his Father tighter.

Titus busted through the open door. Tim sighed. He wasn't in control of that dog, never would be. It was difficult enough driving with its sharp claws digging into Tim's thigh.

In comparison Alfred the Cat was much easier to handle. And he'd only gotten three fresh claw marks on his hand as proof. Titus barked deafeningly and rocketed up the grand staircase.

Well there went all hope of this being a quick and quiet affair.

Tim could just abandon the little demon's belongings on the door but no, he didn't want Alfred to have to carry the duffle bag up the stairs.

Nor did he want to meet the little psychopath's sword the next time they crossed paths.

Titus barked rapidly a floor above them. Then a solid thump sounded and a familiar whistle.

As per usual, Bruce appeared from the shadows. "You're Tim," he noted. He didn't look all too different. It was still his face underneath that beard.

Tim blinked at Alfred the Cat purring as it curled around Bruce's jeans – jeans, seriously as if this wasn't weird enough.

"Yeah," Tim shuffled Damian's duffle over his shoulder, "I just came to drop of Damian's belongings," he clarified.

See, Tim had phoned Bruce after the incident. It'd felt punishing like Tim called a random stranger for a heart to heart. He wouldn't stick around for more of that.

But Bruce was different now. More present, more formidable, more all-knowing and thus, more Batman. Still, Tim wouldn't sticking around.

Titus bounded down the staircase, skidding towards Bruce. He eyed the Great Dane, "And these?" Bruce received the licks with a wry grin.

Tim had gotten a barking call at five in the morning after he'd just flopped down from patrol. He hadn't a doubt the demon would continue this torture until his order was fulfilled.

Tim sighed, "Also Damian's," he muttered. Tim wasn't bringing up the cow in the basement. It was a miracle Bruce hadn't noticed the smell.

Damian hadn't left his address either. Tim had to call Dick for the location. It'd taken him until midnight to reach Wayne Manor with Damian's animals clambering all over him.

Anyway, Tim still had a delivery to make. So if that was all: Tim took to the staircase. "Tim," Bruce beckoned and Tim halted instinctively, he peered at Bruce over his shoulder.

If this wasn't enough, Bruce said:

"You need to sleep more," he stated, frown rather intense.

Tim blinked; "Seriously?" he was emancipated. Bruce didn't have to baby him, when was the last time Bruce ever had. Right, Bruce never had.

Usually they had a firm: 'I won't mention the late nights and little food if you don't mention mine' method. It worked, well, it had.

Bruce arched an eyebrow. It was familiar and wholly unwarranted, "You have defined periorbital dark circles the size of Atlantis," Bruce returned. Well, that's specific.

"They're genetic," Tim rebounded. Titus barked at his lie – if Tim had any doubt whose animals they were…

Bruce's curiosity hardened into skepticism, "They're not," he retorted.

Tim fought not to say 'They could be' and instead trailed up the stairs, "I just came to drop Damian's things off," Tim repeated.

"You're also very thin for your height," Bruce stated. Well, someone was using their Batman insight to Dad all over the place.

"That's genetic," Tim repeated, though a lot more genuine this time. He'd reached the landing and halted at the fingers around his elbow.

On those two steps Tim was taller, which was a nice change of pace than the usual neck cracking that usually occurred. "You have a room here," Bruce checked, maybe…

Tim half-frowned, "Is that a question?" he certified.

Bruce titled his head as if recalibrating, "It's a fact," he stated.

"Ah, Master Timothy," Alfred greeted, carrying a tray holding the remains of Damian's late night tea. "I do hope you'll be staying the night," Alfred appraised.

"Not tonight," Tim replied, "I have an early meeting in Coast tomorrow. I'm leaving in a few hours," he revealed.

Tim had a sharp gut instinct telling him a bit too late that Alfred wouldn't allow him to leave. "I'm certain they can make do without you for a few days," Alfred retorted.

Bruce took a united front with Alfred; Damian's damn dog happily wagging his tail to Tim's week plans being disregarded.

"Alfred," Tim began. He still needed to update the Tower's security system before his shift, which began in less than four hours.

"Besides," Alfred signified. Don't do it, Al – don't do it. "I can't help but share Master Bruce's concern that you are somewhat thin for your height."

Betrayal of the highest form; Tim sighed. At least Alfred felt better than the last time Tim had visited.

"I doubt copious amounts of junk food and little restful sleep has proven helpful," Alfred added pointedly. Tim wanted to step back, all the way out the front door.

But the damage had already been done. And now Bruce didn't see a fault in following through with it. Not like Tim could call pot/kettle without an explanation.

Tim exhaled.

Alfred's pointed stare clearly revealed that Tim's way with words wouldn't get him out of the Manor's gates. "I've already prepared your room, Master Tim," Alfred softened.

He nodded a farewell at Bruce and whistled for Titus to follow him, trudging down the stairs.

"I do really have to go Bruce," Tim said again as he set Damian's duffle beside his door. Last time he'd gone in there he'd gotten a blade brandished at his temporal lobe.

Bruce arched an eyebrow, "I'll take Alfred's word on it that you can miss a few days. Don't you want to check on Damian?" he questioned.

Tim blinked. Oh, right. Tim was supposedly in charge of the brat. Well, lying wouldn't do any good. Two seconds after putting him and Damian in a room, it was perfectly clear that you'd need to redecorate. Instead Tim said, "We mostly stuck to ourselves," which wasn't a lie.

Bruce shifted his piercing gaze to Tim, scrutinizing his words. Well, that was good to know. Don't slip up, Tim.

Bruce absently opened Tim's door with a mask of concern and thoughtful calculation. Tim sighed; a worried Bruce meant an overbearing, very likely paranoid Bruce that didn't quit until answers where found.

It was great for Batman. Not for civilian, safe and happy Bruce. Really, what was Damian thinking staying here? Bruce would figure it out by morning light tomorrow – oh, that maybe why.

Bruce looked into Tim's room and frowned, "This is your room." He hadn't even noticed – a subconscious action.

Tim was kind of fascinated to find out what Bruce's body recalled. Did he have an overwhelming urge to stand on rooftops?

Batman would have approved of researching the bounds of amnesia. Tim would miss him. But better Bruce be alive than Batman.

All Tim's belongings – the ones he'd left at any rate – were stacked in orderly piles. Alfred had taken over. Tim sighed and trudged in, "I had a system," he muttered.

Tim rifled through the comic book collection stacked into a corner, and spread them over the carpet beside his bed.

He kicked off his shoes and didn't glance at where they landed. "Are you positive it's a system?" Bruce prompted, smirk and all.

Well, someone was in a good mood. Tim didn't hate it.

He'd only seen this level of happiness in those few late pictures with a toothily grinning Jason. Tim didn't know what that meant. He'd find out though but later, once Bruce diverted his attention.

Tim plopped back first onto his covers, it was softer than he was used to at this point. "I'll stick around Bruce – I don't need a sitter," Tim pointed out to the ceiling.

Tim didn't understand when Bruce's overly fatherly role cropped up into such a persistent presence. Tim didn't object obviously, it was just out of character.

See, before this Bruce understood that business had to be done, obligations to be filled and now, it's not like Tim could mention any of that. Knowing Bruce he'd ask for examples and Tim's mind would blank into Batman tales.

Bruce exhaled; far too troubled for the sufficing vibe Tim gave off. "You don't expect me to prioritize your wellbeing," Bruce understood.

Oh, come on.

"It's not that," Tim sat to shuck out his jacket, keeping his long undershirt rolled down despite the heating. "You just understood that there are more important things, like running a multi-million dollar company that employs thousands and is a pioneer in technological advances."

Bruce plodded into Tim's desk chair – that was the opposite of what Tim wanted.

Bruce didn't see it like that. Partially resigned and a whole lot troubled, "I've come to understand that I've made many mistakes with you."

As in the royal 'you' and not Tim specifically – Tim was actually glad Bruce's feeling talks still required deciphering that was, at least normal.

But Bruce needed to understand this. "You've given us everything, Bruce," Tim declared. Bruce caught his gaze, stilling at the fire there and his jaw twanged.

His smile fond and resigned again and pained; like the sentiment was appreciated but the truth was clearer. As in the exact opposite of what Tim intended.

"Tim," Bruce geared, stubborn and firm. It was familiar, like revealing a universal truth Tim hadn't pictured just yet. "You're a priority, you should have known that," Bruce determined.

Tim couldn't just keep him mouth shut. "But," Tim pointed out with a half wince, "In the grand scheme. We're really not." Unless you were Batman, his impact on Gotham alone was unquantifiable.

He smiled wincingly. Bruce didn't approve, "You all think so little of yourselves," he noted. Aha, an opportunity to divert attention and get information.

Tim frowned in confusion, "Who's you all?" he tested, like Tim was aware he wouldn't like the answer.

Bruce flickered back to focus on Tim. An actual real smile upturning his lips, "Everyone," he simplified. "Everyone but Dick, that is," Bruce added softly.

Well, this would explode soon. And Bruce was so much happier like this…Who told him Dick was alive? Did he know Jason was? Tim held back the urge to massage his forehead – it wouldn't do any good anyhow.

"By everyone, you mean…" Tim awaited clarification.

Bruce tilted a smirk; it might just be an actual smile. Tim's shoulders slouched instinctively just to empathize, "Everyone. Damian, Cass, Jason and now," Bruce's smile overtook his eyes. "You," he said.

Tim blinked, was that for him, the smile, like for being there? He cleared his throat, "How's that working out?" Tim investigated, committing that memory to special treasures he had tucked for dry times.

Bruce didn't laugh but it was damn near close, a new sound that had a grin break over Tim's face. "Better than I'm guessing it should have," he admitted.

Well, Tim was expecting bodies pierced with swords on picture frames and explosions under pillows. A lot was better than that.

"I'll let you rest," Bruce clapped his thighs and stood. Hesitating before he gestured at his bearded jaw, "Any comments?"

"Lumberjack," Tim deadpanned. His first impression was nearly always the best.

Bruce huffed with a smile.

He sobered though, ruffling Tim's longish hair and semi-crouched to level their gazes. "You are a priority," Bruce insisted once more.

But Bruce didn't know the truth. Innocent people were the priority, ensuring the potential of the world was fulfilled was a priority. Batman had known that.

But it was nice to pretend otherwise, at least for a night. "I'll sleep Bruce," Tim pacified.

Bruce pressed his hand to Tim's cold cheek, "I'll be checking," he warned.

Tim quirked a smile, "That I believe."

Tim hadn't expected to sleep, he groaned. What had woken him? He was actually in bed, let him snooze.

"Tim," A hand nudged his shoulder, shoving his face further into his pillow. It didn't feel like a demon's hand.

Tim blinked blearily as the face above him focused and a wide grin spread from him, "Cass!"

Cass laughed, happily toppling into his embrace when he yanked her down. Tim almost got a knee to a vulnerable spot and didn't care in the slightest.

"I've missed you," Tim allowed himself to note into her scraggily hair.

It'd been way too long since they'd last even spoken, let alone been within poking distance. He'd missed his big sister.

Cass landed on her feet to take his face in her grasp, "Me too," she grinned.

She looked well, lively and bright in the ever content manner. Tim yawned, raising like the dead to sit and crossed his legs so she could plop on his mattress.

Tim grinned lopsidedly, "How've you been?" he asked.

His probably dopey expression made her tilt her head to soak it in. "Better now," Cass admitted, "It's new but good here."

"I get that," Tim seconded.

Having Bruce around and willing to be there never failed to make hard times feel just a little better. He sucked in a deep breath, "He's better, isn't he?" Tim noted his observation.

It couldn't be just Tim's wishes painting Bruce like that.

"He feels…" Cass deciphered with a scrunch of her nose, "Like he knows us. His body reacts to us, like Bruce, only more…" Her hands cupped against her sternum.

"Dad-like," Tim finished in agreement. It was somewhat new to both of them. Their biological fathers' had tried in the own ways, Tim's more successfully than Cass's.

But Bruce was infallible and understanding and protective and morally-upstanding when Tim's father had failed at the former two and Cass's had failed at the latter duo.

He squeezed her lean hand, "It's really good to see you again, Cass," Tim murmured. It had to be a residue of their Batgirl and Robin days, but Tim felt infinitely less isolated with Cass here.

Cass showcased rosy dimpled cheeks and bent up to press a smiling kiss to his hairline. Guess he was missed as well.

"Dress," Cass poked his vest, "Alfred has lunch."

Tim saluted into a stretch, flinging the bed covers off him. "Wait for me while I get changed?" he asked.

Cass's face proclaimed 'Duh'. She scampered out his room while he changed into sweats that left it all to the imagination and one of Kon's stolen shirts. It was a good shirt.

Down the grand staircase, through the foyer, into a hallway, past a duo of public business rooms and they arrived in a familial lounge, one they had to pass to reach the kitchen.

Tim entered first, heart beat spiking at one of the occupants in the room. He did his best to mute his grin, "Hey, Steph," Tim waved.

Stephanie jumped off the couch with a squeal, "Tim! Cass!" She plowed into them, slinking arms around them for a tight squeeze and reclaimed her limbs to clutch at their shoulders and take them in.

"Team five foot five is in the house," Stephanie cheered, "It's so good to have you back! How you guys been?"

"Better now," Tim replied with a cheeky grin as Cass nodded, her eyes a little bright. Stephanie's hair was glowing, "How long were you out here?" he asked. And why weren't they told she was here?

Stephanie jutted out a hip and leaned on it, "Not long," she grinned and butted a thumb at back at Damian. "The little birdie kept me company," Stephanie nodded, proud grin and all.

Tim would like to call coincidence but Damian sunk further behind his sketch pad on his knees, hiding his somewhat flushed cheeks from view. Stephanie's goddess-like ability to handle the demon brat was definitely tied to Damian's crush on her.

It always crept Tim out.

That didn't mean he wouldn't use the information if the time came to it. Damian was still on his watch list. Tim didn't trust him. He gave the kid the benefit of the doubt in the beginning but attempt homicide on Tim once, shame on the demon. Attempt homicide twice and…

Well, that was clear.

"You'll be sticking around, right," Stephanie took Cass's hands to blink blue eyes up at her. Tim would have caved instantly, "We all want you around, right Tim, munchkin?"

Tim knew his answer was written clear as sunlight all over his form; even Damian didn't conceal an irritated nod – like this question was pointless for an obvious answer.

See, while Jason and Damian were on Tim's potential (if not current) watch list. Cass's main fault was that she lived half way around the world. And in a list of potential faults out there, Cass's was tolerable and easily fixed.

Cass smiled, little excitement squeezing her cheeks. "Haven't decided but I'll stay, for a while," she shrugged, "At least." That was better than Tim thought he'd hear.

He never did find out why Cass vanished to Hong Kong – Tim would do what he could to find out and squash the problem.

"Fine," Stephanie grunted, "But you're telling us if you leave. Enough time for me to throw a going away party," she insisted, finger pointed and glare firm.

Cass snickered, "Aye, aye Captain," she squeezed Stephanie's fingers. Cass tilted her head, "What happened?" she asked.

Huh, Stephanie did have another reason for coming there. Tim blinked, "Is everything alright?" he certified.

Stephanie sighed, "Why you got to use your ninja skills like that?" she grumbled. Stephanie folded her arms, "You know, there doesn't have to be a clearly cut business reason above the obvious."

But there was. Tim and Cass identically arched eyebrows and waited for Stephanie's burst of sniggers to quiet. "Fine," Stephanie elongated.

She plodded onto a nearby couch's thick armrest, and revealed: "Heard news that the cover's about to blown through the batty grapevine, thought I'd check it out before it all went haywire." Stephanie shrugged.

"Where'd you hear that?" Damian butted in.

Yeah, Tim believed that. Either today, or the day after; all Bruce had to do was demand an answer…And they were trained to follow his orders. It didn't take a genius to figure out what would happen.

But maybe, Bruce wouldn't go back to being Batman, maybe he was too changed and he could still be safe, and they could have someone to come home to.

"Around," Stephanie clarified with a shrug, which in simple terms meant Barbara, who heard from Dick who figured because Damian was all too pleased to learn Bruce might learn the truth soon.

And then Stephanie bounced up and threw them into a tight embrace all over again with a happy grin, "I'm glad so glad we're all here!" Snickering laughter fled him and yeah, Tim felt that too – he muffled it in Cass's hair.

He felt Cass still slightly and wasn't startled when Bruce wondered, "And this is?" he stood in the adjourned room arch.

Stephanie unlocked to stand attention – was that recognition in Bruce eyes? Tim brushed tickling hair from his cheek, "This is Stephanie Brown," he introduced.

"We've met," Stephanie motioned, "Well. Before," she gestured, "All this. You're looking very…chilled."

Cassandra nodded in begrudging agreement.

Tim huffed and massaged his forehead. He really loved them both so much, "I need food. Want to tell us how Hong Kong was?"

Cass's slanted eyes tilted with a sincere grin, "Boring," she returned.

"Compared to here, what isn't?" Tim seconded.

As they bypassed Bruce into the kitchen, Stephanie spared Bruce a crooked grin. "It's a really weird look on you," she noted at the beard.

"I've heard that," Bruce replied.

Damian pretended not to listen from the couch while Bruce called out to Tim:

"Alfred set out a plate for you in the fridge. He expects it to be finished," Bruce reminded. It was probably overly healthy, what he wouldn't give for a burger and fries.

"You shouldn't have," Tim deadpanned, already heading out the door. They turned the corner into the kitchen.

Stephanie nudged him, "I'll help, if you want. I haven't eaten since patrol last night – Lenny's burger, had to drop it after Mad Hatter made a run from the prescient."

Tim would have liked to be there. "You're a life saver," he declared for her heroic ways both in the field and outside it. Dick would be proud at the pun.

Cass shot Stephanie a conspiratorial grin, and the latter snorted into a loud giggle, "It's part of the job description."

Tim held back a snicker. He'd really missed them.

"I'd prefer you stay for this Alfred," Bruce said. His children stilled at his tone, they recognized it didn't bode well for them.

Alfred's eyes narrowed, "And what is 'this' pray tell," he drawled.

Bruce tapped the arm rest, sharply taking in each of his children's and Alfred's expression. "What you've tried to keep from me," he mentioned.

"Well," Stephanie bounced out of her seat and something of the movement triggered a flash of poufy blond hair and slap to his cheek.

He wouldn't be too harsh on them but maybe he used to be. Bruce frowned.

"This is obviously a family conversation. Call me, tell me how it went," Stephanie signed to Tim and Cass before swooping in for final farewells.

She kissed Tim's cheek, ruffled Damian's hair to his colored cheeks and squeezed Cass in a tight embrace.

"Don't go too hard on them Boss," Stephanie squinted an eye. She had a lot of hope for someone who didn't believe it'd do any good.

Stephanie bolted out the door.

Jason stared after her as if he wished he could join. Tim on the other hand just exhaled, tucking further into the couch to await Bruce's verdict.

"I knew this lie was pointless, father," Damian insisted. His arms were crossed, chin tilted up but he was worried Bruce would…what? Punish them, hurt them?

Tim sighed, "It wasn't pointless."

Cass nodded, fingers tapping it out on her crossed ankles. She gestured with a hand, "He's happier," Cass pointed out.

Bruce didn't object to being talked of as if he wasn't there. He'd get good information like that.

Still, he wondered if his memories somehow soured the warmth and pride and relief alighting in his chest. It seemed unfathomable.

And whoever he had been, whatever he had done. He'd also found and taken in five children that brightened and filled out every crook and crevices.

"It was only a matter of how much time," Tim shrugged, toes tucked beneath Cass's crossed knee.

"And in that time," Alfred steadied upon Jason's shoulder. His son's fists were clenched as if preparing for an uphill battle, "Master Bruce had an opportunity he hadn't since that fateful night when he was eight."

Obviously something had changed in him that night. Bruce knew he'd witnessed his parent's deaths. He didn't recall it though, or the impact it definitely had on his life.

The impact he'd bleed over into his children's life. It was a violent and aggressive crusade, prone to selfless actions and little acceptance over their true worth.

It left a large healing gash over Cass's lower back or the bruises over Damian's shoulder and the cut on his head, the bullet wound in Jason's shoulder above the deep curving scar, and the rope burns on Tim's wrists barely hidden under concealer.

Bruce didn't know what he'd done to them to make them fight and risk their lives to such an extent. They didn't seem to hate him, even Jason hadn't.

Bruce knew that he didn't deserve that loyalty for putting them in danger. "And that opportunity has run its course," Bruce stated.

He would fix this. Hopefully he hadn't done something irrevocable and if he had, he could only wish it wasn't malicious. And that he'd kept record to fix it.

"It will change this," Cass warned. They cared so much for keeping him happy and safe but that was his job. What must have they had to endure to reach that level of protectiveness over him?

Bruce assured them, "I won't revert. I still don't have those memories but this secret, it was mine and I need it back."

He understood somewhat. It was a decision intended to keep him safe but how safe was he in the dark? And why did he feel a sense of irony at that realization?

"You're Batman," a familiar voice said from the door.

Jason grumbled, "You just had to make an entrance." He curled over a throw pillow to distrustfully eye the man in the door.

And now Bruce felt it, like an ache in the pit of his stomach and pride shined in his chest, hitting him harder as his children remained.

Before this, Bruce had lost something fundamental. He hadn't felt this rush of recognition, practically drowned in…How had he survived? It was debilitating, the love screeching through his veins.

These emotions bleed into his very self, coloring and morphing him into the man he could've only dreamt to become before his accident.

"Dick," he greeted, relief a beacon, "Or should I say, Mr. Sparrow?"

"I wanted to tell him," Damian pouted. He wasn't too distraught though, a grin worming onto his features. That was good to see.

Dick grinned, "Sorry Little D'. You're looking better, B." Bruce leaned forward, feeling a smile on his lips like a foreign maneuver.

"I feel better," Bruce admitted.

"Then this had a purpose," Dick reminded.

Dick ruffled Tim's longish hair, snaked a hand to tug on Cass's earlobe which she returned with a snicker and clomped Damian around the neck to press a kiss to his temple.

"Unhand me, Grayson," Damian struggled but didn't upend any limbs in vulnerable points. His hands even clutched the arms around his neck for a few precious seconds.

Dick ruffled Damian's hair on the way back. "You touch me you lose a limb," Jason scooted back on his couch.

Dick laughed, swinging an arm around Alfred's shoulders. "Seeing you back here is all I need," Dick told him winningly.

Jason stared-dead and grunted, "You would think that." Dick wasn't bothered, a little suspicion flashing in his gaze.

Dick plopped beside Jason; elbows balanced on his knees and said expectantly, "So. You have questions?" he prompted.

He calculated about seventy two and the list kept growing as he recalled the history told to him and how much of it was possibly rewritten or glossed over.

But those weren't all that important or time sensitive. He could wait another day or two. Bruce really only had one question that took precedent, "I trained you. Why did I do that?" he questioned.

Did he wish to invite so much danger on his children? Endangering himself for a higher cause, Bruce could understand somewhat. He couldn't understand why that would take precedent over his children.

Bruce was meant to protect them; he felt that in the marrow of his bones. And the more he learned about the man he used to be the more Bruce felt the urge to shove him head first into a drywall.

"You thinking of this all wrong, B," Dick certified. He eyed Dick, his eldest and probably most adept at reading him.

Alfred nodded thoughtfully and Dick rubbed at his jawline.

"We would have fought crime with or without your training," Dick rebounded in stark truth. "You protected us B, gave us a family to do it from. I don't think any of us would have survived this long without you," he pointed out.

Cass frowned, "It's true," she insisted, censuring Bruce's reluctance. "I would have…" Cass swallowed it down with a flicker at her brothers, "We would have been alone. You saved us from that."

"Definitely," Tim agreed, determined that Bruce understand his impact. "Not only that, Bruce but you gave us a purpose."

"For once, Drake is actually speaking wisely," Damian agreed, nodding his head. Tim barely took time to roll his eyes before returning to his watch over Bruce. "Father," Damian's jaw twanged, "We chose you for a reason."

"Seriously B," Jason added, arms crossed over a throw pillow. "You're the best Dad we could've asked for," he shrugged, offhanded but no less sincere.

Bruce could only blink at his children. He sucked in a deep breath, "Alfred," he muttered, voice a little tighter than he'd anticipated.

Alfred arched an eyebrow – so that's where he got that from.

Bruce inhaled and considered, "Do you think you could set up a film, a fun one, in the theatre?" he inquired.

"It would be my genuine pleasure, sir," Alfred smiled, pleasantly surprised and bowed his head.

Alfred cast a final fond glance over them all, heading into the hallway to do as intended.

"Seriously," Tim didn't believe Bruce, "You don't have a single question? Like where's the Bat Cave, who else is in on it, why you lost your memory? Nothing," Tim checked.

Dick snickered fondly and Tim spared him a small smirk. Most questions Bruce could somewhat piece together. He admitted, "Nothing that can't wait." It didn't calm Tim down that much.

Jason sniggered, "You think we broke him?" he asked his siblings in general. Truth was, they'd done the exact opposite.

"Doubt it," Dick returned, flopping back on the couch with heavenly sigh. "I came back at the right time," Dick mused, roaming over all the occupants of the room to catalogue them all.

Dick looked pleased by what he'd found, if not a little wary of the future. He couldn't be that much older than Jason, 22 was it? Bruce would ensure the future here be a bit clearer.

The intercom clicked.

Alfred scratched through the link, "If the Masters and Miss of the household would be so kind as to relocate to the theatre room so that we may begin."

The intercom zapped shut.

Bruce stood, "You heard the man," he rolled out his neck. Bruce couldn't think of anything better to do with his time.

"Okay," Tim stepped forward on uncertain feet, "If you're sure?" he rechecked. Was it that outlandish that Bruce allows his kids some peace of mind after an ordeal that had no doubt been difficult on them?

Tim was always so careful. "I'm sure," Bruce drew Tim into a hug, softening his grip when Tim stilled. Is that how often he hugged his son that the notion was foreign to him?

Tim carefully relaxed into Bruce's chest – as if hesitant over the fact that he was even allowed this. Cass slinked closer, ducking under one of Bruce's arms to press into their sides.

Bruce smiled into Tim's locks as Cass whispered something for only her brother's ears. Tim grinned beneath his bowed head and Cass snickered.

Cass unburied her head, reaching to peck Bruce on the cheek. "We'll get popcorn," Cass said.

Bruce nodded, "Good idea," he praised.

Cass poked his side, as if to say Bruce had gotten pudgier, her knuckles rapped against his chest to correct – not pudgier, comfier.

Oh, that's why, "I wondered why I was losing so much muscle mass," Bruce recalled.

Tim hummed, "Lumberjack training just isn't cutting it?" he drawled in sympathy. Bruce stifled his snort, tousling up his long locks to Tim's hidden cheeky grin.

"Go," Bruce said.

Tim nodded, already heading out the door while Cass rapped her knuckles on Jason's shoulder.

Bruce didn't pay attention to the rest of that conversation when Damian came to stand attention before him. Head lifted and proudly declared, "I'm glad you've returned to us, Father."

"Me too, Damian," Bruce admitted. He cupped Damian's cheek, carefully rustling his hair.

"If…" Damian cleared his throat, "If you wish me to tell you of Batman and Robin Father, I can," he declared.

Damian was just a boy and yet not. Batman and Robin had to be large parts of Damian's identity and to exclude Batman, Damian had suffered.

"Tomorrow," Bruce agreed and Damian lit with relief, "Now though. Get ready for the movie, and keep Titus off the furniture," he reminded.

Damian's features crinkled, as if holding back a grin of massive proportions and trotted out the door, head raised in pride.

Cass shot Dick a wave of fingers before trotting out to sneak after Damian. Jason already crossed behind the couch when Bruce snagged his elbow. Jason sighed, "Fuck B, we've got to talk about-" Jason cut off.

Bruce kept his arms around Jason's muscular frame, still so small despite it all, in silent conviction that Bruce would fix this.

"Finding out who I used to be doesn't change who I am now," Bruce determined. Jason swallowed, head fitting into the crook of Bruce's neck and collar.

"If you say so, B…" Jason still didn't believe him. It's true, Bruce didn't know what Jason had done but this was his son, he wouldn't abandon him even when he probably should.

"You'll always be my son," Bruce assured and Jason's fingers tightened their clasp into Bruce's sides.

Bruce smoothed curling locks as Jason mumbled, "I'll hold you to that. Thanks Dad," he whispered.

Bruce's heart lurched, smile overcoming his lips as he pulled back, "Go start the movie. We'll be there soon," he gave Jason's shoulder a final squeeze.

Jason sniggered, smile lopsided, "I don't promise we won't start without you," he cheeked. Jason spared Dick a glance before trailing out the door.

"I take it I wasn't big on physical affection," Bruce shifted to Dick. He was certain it was an important portion of raising children, showcasing with actions not just words.

How many times had Bruce held back out of his own fear? Not having any traumatic memories apparently had some perks.

Dick rocked onto his feet, "Well, that's one way of putting it," he recalled. Dick was taller like this than Bruce imagined, remains of a younger face, flipping and flying, beaming with sunlight on his cheeks blinked from existence.

His heart gave another lurch, "You're good with them," Dick said. Like an observation he wanted Bruce's opinion on.

Bruce set a hand on Dick's shoulder, a faint stillness before Dick relaxed and asked: "Am I good with you?"

Dick quirked a smile, soft and rather saddened but no less affectionate, "In the end? Always," he promised.

Bruce wondered what he'd done. His smile softened, flicking the dark hair tickling his knuckles, "Are you growing your hair out?" Bruce asked.

"Come on, B," Dick groaned and Bruce huffed, "I just got back. It'll stay short for now but I'm not making any promises," he insisted.

It sounded familiar, like déjà vu and Bruce held back a snicker, folding his eldest into a hug he didn't expect. Dick was still so small, so easy wrap his arms around.

Dick sighed, comfortable in the prolonged embrace, "You're getting sentimental on me, B," he noted.

"I'm getting old," Bruce retorted. Dick was like a muscular koala, only pulling back with a deep comfortable sigh.

Dick arched an eyebrow, "Batman doesn't get old," he retorted.

Bruce shrugged, "Good then. That I'm not Batman, not anymore," he said.

Batman was Bruce's past; it was his secret, his Mission – his kids had taken Batman's legacy up onto their shoulders. But Bruce had given his first life to Batman and he wouldn't hand over the second.

"Let's go," Bruce quirked a smile, "We don't want to miss the movie." Dick took pace beside him, taking to learn him all over again with wary glances beneath dark eyebrows.

"You know, any questions you have I'll answer. I won't say you'll like the answers but you can count on them being true," Dick recited.

"Maybe tomorrow," Brue acknowledged. Dick shrugged lips lopsidedly quirked into a smile. It looked like Dick liked the new him as well.

When the movie finished, Bruce yawned into his hand. "Alfred," he called.

Alfred flicked on a small light, casting the room in a warm hue of gold and his impervious expression twitched at the sight before him.

Bruce stood and turned to face said sight. "Oh," he blinked, a grin worming onto his features. "Alfred," he began.

"Excellent idea, Master Bruce," he whispered, disappearing to find a camera.

His kids were all asleep, maybe more some then others but all in that state of subconscious relaxation which soothed all those daily worries.

Dick was splayed in a corner of the couch; socks scuffed the carpet and head balanced on the head of hair tucked to his chest.

Damian snored lightly, hands crossed at wrist to cradle the cat curled in his lap. Dick's fingers twitched behind Damian's back in slumber, nearly touching the bow of Tim's back.

Tim frowned in his sleep, knocked out against Cass's shoulder with his feet tucked up beside him. He was hugging a quilt to his knees, partially draped it over Cass.

Her head tilted on Jason's bulky shoulder, guarded there by Jason's head leaning against hers.

It was frankly the most relaxed he'd seen them all together.

Alfred had returned, snatched a few pictures with an exasperated smile. "Should we wake them, Master Bruce?" It would be best if they slept in their rooms.

"Leave them be, Alfred," Bruce whispered back. He tapped the camera, "And if you could make everyone copies, plus spares and hide the original."

Just in case his children thought Bruce would let this memory dissolve like all his others.

"It'd be an honor, sir," Alfred insisted. He safely tucked the camera away, "You too should get some rest," he mothered.

Bruce smiled, taking quilts from one of the drawers to drape over his children. "I will," Bruce smoothed back Dick's hair.

He stepped back, just to observe them a moment longer. How many memories like this did Bruce miss out on?

Still, his children didn't ask for much. What they did, Bruce would do everything in his power to give. And they were asking for him.

His children had chosen Bruce. And now, Bruce would choose them. So they didn't lose him again, and he wouldn't lose them.

He turned to Alfred, "Anything else important I should know about?" Bruce stepped over Titus, scratching behind the dogs flickering ears.

"I'm sure you'll learn in time, sir," Alfred whispered back.

Yeah, Bruce had that notion as well.

The End

But…

BONUS:

Tim yawned, slouching down the staircase and to the source of the noise. He blinked at the outcome. "I don't think I want to understand," he noted.

"Tim!" Stephanie greeted. Not so carefully dislodging her limbs from Jason's, "Sorry. Stop being so muscly," she muttered.

Jason, as in the guy who hated his very existence and tried to murder him when he first cropped up, remained where he slouched against one of the couches. He didn't look particularly murderous that day.

That's a nice improvement that probably wouldn't last.

Stephanie snapped her fingers in front of his nose, "Hello Tim, you in there? Man, how long were you asleep for?" She checked with Jason over her shoulder, "His system might be in shock."

A/N: The bonus was from Timmy's part and I couldn't keep it in but I liked it, I have feelings about Jason's and Stephanie's friendship which is totally a thing.

A/N: It came to my attention half way through that Bruce has never told Damian he loves him, we got I'm Proud of You but not the big L, and I'm just damn, you'd think with so many kids he'd understand what they need? Well apart from that little tidbit, I hope you enjoyed, I love this story a lot. It's all fluffy and it finished itself pretty much so yeah, thoughts – feelings – emotions, a line you particularly liked, or other shticks.

Thanks you for reading! See you next time!