Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summary: Enjoy Robin making an effort, Tim and Damian angsting and plotting, and Dick and Jason just angsting.

Note: After more than a year, I'm finally updating this story.

Again, please acknowledge the wonky, out of whack timeline.

Hope you enjoy.

(My Tim's costume has the cowl and gold Red Robin sigil, but with the wings. Don't me.)

Recognized: Robin – B01. Recognized: Red Robin – A01. Recognized: Robin – A02.

Dick suppressed a wince as he stepped into the Cave and heard the designations. He was really doing his best not to let this get to him – and it was working.

For the most part.

You know, just… not completely.

(And could anyone blame him? There was only one Robin. Having three was just creepy. And maybe a little bit overkill.)

(Well, actually, the world could always use more Robins, but that wasn't the point.)

"So, this is the Cave," Dick waved his hand dismissively. "I can give you the full tour tomorrow, but you guys probably want to sleep."

Well, they might not actually: it was pretty early. (Or, at least, it was for him. He wouldn't go to bed for a couple more hours at least – and Bruce would be up even later than that. If Bruce had trained them like he had Dick, they probably wouldn't even be tired.)

But, they probably didn't want company. He knew he wouldn't want to be surrounded by a bunch of strangers after being transported into a new universe.

"'The Cave'?" Red Robin said, eyebrow arched under his cowl (Dick was starting to get the feeling he did that a lot). "That doesn't get confusing?"

(Then again… Red Robin was so chill, maybe getting dumped in alternate universes was par for the course for him and he wouldn't mind the company.)

Dick shrugged, smiling slightly. "Not really: there's a different inflection. Anyway, that's Red Tornado. He's the den mother."

Red Tornado nodded at their visitors before turning back to the computer monitor. Dick looked back at them, unsurprised to see Red Robin's gaze locked on Red Tornado and Robin's gaze locked on the ground.

Dick wasn't sure that Robin had actually looked at anything aside from the ground or his partner (were they partners? Dick would have to ask.) since he had gotten here. Red Robin was so composed that Dick would think this was some sort of trap if it weren't for the fact that Robin was so uncomfortable.

He'd have to see what he could do about that tomorrow.

He shook his head and waved them along. "Come on, the rooms are down this hallway. That room's Kaldur's, that one's Connor's – Superboy – and that's M'gann's. The rest of us have overnight rooms around the corner, but you guys can have these two. The codes are set to 0000, but you can change 'em to whatever."

Dick would definitely check what their codes were through his backdoor in the system, but he had everyone's codes, so it wasn't personal. Besides, it was the thought that counted, right?

There was a strange tilt to Red Robin's lips as he nodded, but he kept whatever he was thinking to himself (Dick was getting surer by the minute that he was Bruce's actual kid). "Thanks. For all of it. I'm not sure what we'd do if you guys hadn't found us."

Dick was pretty sure that was a huge lie, but whatever. "It's no problem."

"Still."

"Well, you're welcome. I'll let you guys get some rest. See you tomorrow."

Red Robin nodded easily; Robin nodded sharply.

(Dick was startled by the sudden thought that Robin was young. He'd told Artemis that age didn't really matter, and he'd meant it.

For some people, age wasn't a factor – they were just meant to be out there beating up bad guys and swinging across rooftops. And Dick had a feeling that Robin was one of those people.

But being forcefully ripped from your home?

Age definitely mattered then.)

(And Robin was young.)

"See you tomorrow," Red Robin echoed.

Dick startled slightly and hoped it wasn't obvious. "Right. Later." He turned on his heel and walked away, breathing out a sigh of relief when he got back to the briefing room to find Kaldur there.

"Robin."

"You mean me, right?"

Kaldur's expression was slightly disapproving, which, really? If anyone should be overly serious about this situation, it was Dick, but here he was, making an effort, and Kaldur couldn't even give him a smile?

Not cool.

"Have they settled?"

"I gave them rooms next to each other in your hallway."

Kaldur nodded, crossing his arms. "Should we call Batman in to discuss this?"

Honestly?

Yes.

But, this was a… family matter before it was a team matter, so Dick wanted a chance to talk to Bruce privately first.

So, he shrugged. "I mean, he's probably doing his own patrol right now, and it's not exactly a good idea to interrupt that. He's going to be here in the morning anyway to debrief for the mission, and finding them was a part of a mission, so I'd just tell him then."

Kaldur's brow furrowed slightly. "Are you sure? This seems… urgent." (Oh, come on. Could he maybe not be so competent and serious for 5 seconds? Just go with it, Kal.)

"Tell you what: I'll give him the short version, and if we don't show up here, that means he'll just wait to hear the rest from you tomorrow."

Go for it. Go for it. Go for it.

(Please. Go for it.)

A slow nod had Dick forcing himself not to pump his fist in the air. "A wise idea. Good luck, my friend."

Dick gave a two-fingered salute before approaching the zeta-tube. "Good work out there today; don't wait up."

He stepped through the tube and took a deep breath as he pushed open the phonebooth door.

(There was nothing like Gotham air.)

He grabbed his grappling hook and swung onto the nearest rooftop. He flipped and landed on the edge, balancing on the balls of his feet. He took another deep breath and activated his comms.

"Batman, there's a situation."

Well, that was a little misleading. There was definitely a situation, but Bruce had no idea about their alternate universe visitors, so he probably thought they'd messed up the mission with Black Mask.

"Report, Robin."

Oh, yeah – that was an ominous tone.

"Not that kind of situation," Dick backpedaled. "The mission went well; we took care of Black Mask's shipment. Kaldur can give you the full report tomorrow. That's not the problem."

Bruce was quiet on the other end, but Dick had enough experience with comms silence to recognize the reluctant confusion.

"Can you meet me on the docks?" Dick asked, already swinging to the location. "While we were fighting…"

Dick wasn't actually sure how to say it. It shouldn't be this hard, except it really was. How was he supposed to tell Bruce that two other Robins had been transported into their world? Robins.

(He should just say it. Just tell him.

"Hey Bruce, in another world I guess you took in, not one, not two, but 4 other kids besides me and trained them to be vigilantes too. And two of them are here now. We put them in the Cave, and it's possible that more of them could be out here too."

Yeah. Right. No.)

"What happened, Robin?" Bruce asked. He sounded concerned, which was nice. (Dick just wondered how he was going to sound when Dick actually got around to telling him.)

"What's your ETA?" he deflected.

Bruce sighed heavily – disapproving – but allowed it. "2 minutes."

"Awesome. I'll be there in 1."

The comms fell silent, which Dick appreciated. He needed the minute to gather his thoughts.

(He was a little surprised at himself. He'd been worked up around Red Robin and Robin – but not like this.)

(Then again, that wasn't much of a surprise, was it? Because he could deal when he had to deal – and while he was with them, he'd had to was a completely different situation. He couldn't hide what he was feeling from Bruce even if he wanted to.)

Bruce was already on site when Dick finally arrived at the docks. He gave a grin that was only mostly fake.

"Overestimated your ETA there, B?"

Bruce arched an eyebrow under his cowl, still humoring him. "Or maybe you underestimated yours."

Dick wanted to appreciate the effort for what it was, but all he could think was that maybe Red Robin really was Bruce's kid and he could not actually process that at the moment.

"Robin."

And that was serious Batman talking. Dick took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes (well, cowl lenses, but same difference). Time to rip off the band-aid. (Even though he was really pretty sure that was not the best approach to go with, he couldn't come up with anything else. So much for out of the box thinking.)

Okay, Dick just needed to… compartmentalize. Report the mission. "We were fighting Black Masks' goons here. We stopped the shipment – well, Superboy threw it in the bay. Black Mask ran, and his lackeys stayed to fight. There were less than two dozen – it wasn't a tough fight."

Bruce walked up to where he was standing. "But?"

Dick took a deep breath. (Here goes.) "While we were fighting them… someone appeared. And by appeared, I mean materialized out of nowhere. But even though he landed in a fight, he didn't even hesitate – excellent training. A little taller than me, bird insignia across his chest, cowl, utility belt, he was fighting with a bow staff as his primary weapon."

Dick snuck a look at Bruce to see if he was putting the pieces together. (He was the best detective in the world – of course he was putting the pieces together.)

Bruce's brow was drawn down, mouth tight, arms crossed. (Definitely putting the pieces together.)

Dick continued. "He helped us take down the thugs and then told us he was from another universe."

And there it was. First hurdle crossed. Not the hardest hurdle, but hey.

"Another universe. You're sure?"

"As sure as we can be without running any tests. His story sounded pretty legit, but we figured you'd run a check tomorrow. He's staying at the Cave; Miss M, Aqualad, and Superboy can handle them. Pretty sure he doesn't have any powers."

That was about as close to saying he was a Bat without saying it.

Bruce seemed to be ignoring it.

"You didn't contact me while you were still here?"

Dick shrugged. "Not my call."

Was blaming Kaldur the right thing to do?

No, not really. But, in all fairness, Dick hadn't been at the top of his game and calling Bruce hadn't even crossed his mind. And it wasn't like he could just admit that, so… (Though he had a feeling Bruce knew anyway, but was letting him get away with it.)

(And people said Batman was mean.)

Bruce made a considering sound. "What are you leaving out?"

"Not 'leaving out'," Dick protested, crossing his arms. "I just haven't gotten to it yet."

"Well? Get to it."

(That was why they thought he was mean.)

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair (it just wasn't the same with gloves on). "He said his name was Red Robin."

There was no visible reaction from Bruce, which was tantamount to him admitting he was shocked. (That was comforting. At least Dick knew Bruce – his Bruce – hadn't been thinking about going and getting a newer version of him.)

"He works with a Batman from his universe. I buy it. For a lot of reasons. Long story short, a villain he was fighting sent him here, he asked for out help getting him back home, and we were planning on taking him back to the Cave when another one showed up."

Bruce actually looked surprised now. "'Another one'?"

Dick smirked a little. Why had he been worried again? (Well, he knew why, but he was actually starting to enjoy this purely because Bruce seemed to be having as hard a time comprehending this as Dick had.)

"Yep! Another one."

Bruce shot him an unamused look.

Dick's smirk grew into a grin. "He's younger than me – 2, maybe 3 years younger. He's just Robin; he has a sword."

Bruce faltered. "What?"

"Yep! He wants to be a ninja and can only carry it with supervision around, per your orders."

Maybe the glee in his voice was a little much, but Bruce looked so lost right now! This was such a pleasantly unexpected reaction that Dick couldn't help but enjoy it.

(It was so much better than… well, Dick didn't know how he'd thought Bruce was going to react. But he'd been sure it would be bad. This was such a relief.)

"We got on the Bioship and took them back to the Cave. It was a little weird," Dick admitted, quieting his amusement. "Not just the whole Robin thing – though that was definitely a part of it. But it was watching them. They really seem… like they're like us, I guess. Which makes sense, since I'm pretty sure they're telling the truth, but just the way they were functioning around the team… Red Robin tried to pass them off as being less experienced than they are – the others bought it for the most part, I think. And it's a smart tactical move, from their standpoint. It's what I'd do."

Bruce nodded slowly. He probably wanted to observe them in person. "I need to see them. I'll call the Green Lantern and Zatara in to run tests and make sure they're telling the truth. Then we'll work on getting them back where they belong."

Ever thorough, even in the face of his confusion. Dick had to appreciate it – even though he sort of didn't. "Tomorrow, right?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Is there a reason I should put this off?"

Mostly because as much of a relief as Bruce's reaction to the news was, Dick needed more time to emotionally process and prepare to see them again. With Bruce in the room. But that was a stupidly emotional reason and the job came first, so:

"The other Robin said that there were more of them. They were fighting with two allies in their Gotham. Red Robin mentioned wanting us to check around – just to make sure that neither of their allies got transported here. I figure we should do a targeted search – see if anything – or anyone – strange pops up."

Bruce was looking at him thoughtfully. (He totally wasn't buying it.) "And you're comfortable leaving your teammates with two strange vigilantes – both of whom are representing themselves as less dangerous than they are – making your team unprepared for the worst-case scenario?"

That… was a fair point. (But, also, completely irrelevant because, yeah. Dick was actually comfortable with that. (Which was probably bad, but he didn't think either of them had any intentions of causing that sort of trouble.))

"I am," Dick answered simply. "You'll get it when you meet them. Trust me."

"…First thing tomorrow morning. Let's check the area."

Dick smiled. (Bruce probably thought Dick not being worried at the worst-case was irresponsible. And he could definitely see through Dick's work-oriented excuse. But he was letting it go for once.) "Thanks, B."

"Don't thank me yet."

That was possibly playful, possibly ominous. It was kind of hard to tell, and Dick was sure Bruce said it that way on purpose.

Dick shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'll take north, you take south?"

Bruce nodded and started off in that direction. "Check in if you find something or when you finish."

Dick looked at his back as he walked away. "Oh," he called out, tone overly-casual. "Did I mention that I'm pretty sure one of them's your biological kid?"

Dick didn't think he'd ever seen Bruce's neck whip around that quickly without him being punched. He cackled as he ran in the opposite direction to check for traces of alternate universe visitors.

"Robin," Bruce growled.

Dick just kept laughing.

(Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.)

Tim opened the door to the room Robin had assigned him and ushered Damian in before shutting the door behind them.

He performed a cursory sweep of the room: bed, dresser, nightstand, desk, chair, closet, and another door that probably led to an en suite.

The bed looked really inviting. (It didn't actually; his safehouse beds looked more comfortable. But he was tired.)

(No time for that, though. He could sleep when he was dead.)

(Which was exactly how he had gotten into this situation, so maybe he should alter his philosophy…)

"Well?"

Tim blinked and focused his attention on Damian, who was standing with his arms crossed and eye narrowed. Right. Things to go over, stuff to talk about, etc.

Damian opened his mouth again, but Tim motioned for him to stay silent. Damian acquiesced, but there was no telling how long that would last, so Tim should probably start his sweep. And maybe rope Damian into helping him – he'd go for that.

Tim reached into his utility belt and pulled out one of his scanners. (Jason frequently told him that he had too many scanners in his belt. But Jason didn't have any scanners in his belt, so his opinion was entirely invalid.)

(He was having trouble thinking about Jason. Which was so unfair. He was not about to start missing Jason. He wasn't.)

He shook his head and sighed to clear his thoughts. Then he waved the scanner around in front of Damian's face until he caught on.

Damian reached into his belt and pulled out an identical scanner. Tim nodded approvingly (Damian had almost as many scanners in his belt as Tim did; it made him a little proud, though he'd deny it if asked) and motioned for Damian to take the closet and the bathroom, before heading over to start on the desk.

Was it a little paranoid of him to scan for bugs and cameras in the room their gracious hosts had provided?

Yes, it was. He wasn't going to deny that. And he was honestly pretty sure that the scan would come up empty. But he could never be too sure.

(He hoped the scanners were still working.)

(He breathed a silent sigh of relief when they turned on.)

The search took 15 minutes to complete. (Well, 20, actually. But that was only because Damian was ridiculous. Tim was older and bigger than he was, so it made sense for Tim to be the one to give Damian the boost to search the ceiling. It was logical. But Damian had spent five minutes arguing to be the one to give Tim the boost. Ridiculous. (It was a good thing they were so well-versed in arguing with each other, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to get through that confrontation using only gestures and facial expressions – not that'd they'd needed to worry about anything in the end.))

Tim pulled his cowl back and let out a sigh as he ran his hand through his hair.

Now, how were they going to handle this?

"What would you have done if we had found something?" Damian asked, sitting down in the chair and pulling his mask off.

"Gotten rid of the bugs and rerouted the camera feed. No point in being subtle about it."

Damian tucked his mask away and raised an eyebrow, lips pursed. "Then what was the point of not saying anything if you were planning on destroying the evidence anyway?"

"If they'd been there, they would have been recording."

Damian conceded the point with a sharp nod before taking his cape off and draping it on the back of the chair. "Why didn't you change the code on the door?"

Tim rolled his eyes and got to work removing his glider. "If you were in Robin's place, wouldn't you make sure you knew our codes, even if we changed them? There's no point."

"Tt. Fair enough." Damian leaned back and crossed his arms, cocking an eyebrow. "Well?"

"Why don't we start with what happened after I left," Tim suggested, dropping onto the bed and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

Damian's lips tightened. "Transporter," (Damian spat his name like he was the worst villain they'd ever encountered; Tim wasn't inclined to disagree), "began to rant shortly after you'd been… sent here. Grayson insisted we take him while he was… distracted."

They winced simultaneously at the word. (Tim was just glad he wasn't the only one bothered by it.)

"Wait," Tim said, brow furrowing. "Please don't tell me the reason you're here is because Dick used my strategy. The strategy that was proven to be a very bad idea in that situation? Damian."

(Seriously? Seriously?)

Damian was very pointedly not looking at him, but his tone wasn't the defensive posturing that Tim had expected. "Grayson wasn't exactly… working at optimal levels."

Tim gaped slightly before swallowing. "Right. I guess not."

He ran another hand through his hair and took a deep breath. He'd been so focused on what was going on here that he hadn't really stopped to consider what must be going on back home. (If Dick and Jason were even still there. He had no idea…)

No. No time for that. He could think about that… later. Right now, they had to finish going over everything and make preliminary plans. Thinking about home would just… distract them.

(He hated that word. He hated it.)

"Right," Tim repeated. "What happened then?"

"We rushed him," Damian said. "I was ahead of the others and the fool panicked. He shot at me three times. I managed to dodge the first two completely, but the last beam grazed my katana."

"Huh. I wonder how that works – I mean, the katana isn't a part of you, so-"

"Is that really what you should be focusing on?" Damian snarled, shooting out of his seat with his fists balled at his sides.

Tim looked at him steadily.

(No, it wasn't. But it was better than thinking about how Dick must have felt, watching Tim disappear and then Damian. He hoped Jason had stayed with Dick because Dick couldn't handle something like that alone.)

(But he couldn't tell Damian that. Couldn't bring up how Dick might be falling apart. (How Bruce might be falling apart if he'd heard by now.) Damian didn't need that right now.)

(Neither of them did, but this was Tim's burden to bear.)

"Any detail about the weapon helps," Tim said. "If I can put together how it works, I'll have something to tell this world's League. It might make it easier to get us back."

Damian's expression twisted before he sat back down in the chair. "I suppose that makes sense."

Tim pursed his lips. (It really did.) "Did you think I was asking for no reason?"

"There's no telling when your rarely seen rational side will come to the fore, Drake."

Tim rolled his eyes, but he didn't really mind the insult. It was comfortable. Familiar. Steadying. (He needed that.)

"And you?" Damian asked archly. "What happened when you arrived?"

"Nothing much," Tim shrugged. "They were fighting some of Black Masks thugs. I helped, then told them I was from another universe when we finished. They're awfully trusting."

(Tim knew he actually was from another universe, but they'd accepted it so easily. Yeah, it was to his and Damian's advantage, but still.)

(Tim wondered if he'd ever been that naïve.)

(Ugh. He hoped not.)

"Tt. I'd noticed; it's embarrassing."

They shared an exasperated look, and Tim took a moment to wonder what it said about them that they were commiserating over other people's lack of paranoia.

Whatever.

It was embarrassing behavior.

"Putting that aside, you know the reason we had to come back with them and not… wait and see, right?"

Damian scowled. "No, I don't. They couldn't have stopped us. We should have waited!"

Tim heaved a sigh. "It's not that I didn't want to stay, Damian," (Tim had really wanted to stay), "but if we'd stayed in Gotham, we would have run into Batman on patrol. Or maybe Robin would have called him and sent him to our location. Whatever the case, it's better to meet this world's Batman as a guest of Robin's than independent actors."

(It was better meeting this world's Batman tomorrow or anytime later. Just not tonight. Damian couldn't handle that; he was barely managing being around Robin.)

(Tim wasn't sure he could handle it.)

The look on Damian's face was somewhere between lost and heartbroken – well he looked angry and constipated, but that's what it meant on his face.

Tim understood that, and he knew it was better not to dwell on the topic for too long (for both of them), so: moving on. "We should probably start planning our next move."

Damian started, composing himself and nodding imperiously. "Obviously."

That was a little better.

(But Tim was about to make it a whole lot worse.)

"First, we need to account for the worst case. Damian, if they can't get us back-"

"Father will get us back," Damian interrupted forcefully. "And Grayson, if he's still there. Even Todd will do something. We won't be stuck here. We won't."

Tim wondered if Damian really believed that - of course, he did.

(Robin had infinite faith in his Batman. Both of them.)

(But sometimes Batman failed and Robin had to step up and accept the consequences.)

Tim would let Damian hold onto that for as long as he could. "Of course, they will," (he said it like he believed it; he'd always been a good liar), "but you know the rule: always have a plan for the worst case, Damian."

"But we won't be stuck here, so why bother?" Damian had set his jaw and looked ready to fight him on this – he needed to get Damian to understand without pushing him over the edge.

"Look at it this way," Tim said, "do you really think Jon's going to go berserk and kill a bunch a people and try and take over the world?"

Tension bled out of Damian's posture when he started to process what Tim meant. (Thank goodness. Bringing up Jon had been a calculated risk: thinking about his best friend might have only upset Damian more. (Tim was so glad it had worked.)).

"He doesn't have it in him," Damian replied, which was as close to acquiescence as he would get.

Tim more than happily took the win.

"So, worst case: we don't get back. We can't stay here and we can't go to Gotham."

Damian clenched his jaw. "Why not?"

"What if we exist in this world, Damian? If we work with these heroes or go to Gotham, that could mess things up for this version of us. Do you want that?"

Damian didn't have to answer. Tim knew he would never want any version of him to be with Talia and Ra's when he could be with Bruce and Dick. And Damian knew he knew that.

Now for the (other) hard part.

"We'd have to retire."

"WHAT?" Damian shot out of his seat a second time.

Tim could feel a headache coming on. (Though that might be the sleep deprivation catching up to him.)

Not that he didn't understand Damian's anger. Even suggesting it made Tim feel uncomfortable. But if they got stuck here, Tim would make sure they did what they had to in order to survive. And retiring would be number one on the list.

"Damian, think about what I just said-"

"I am, and it's stupid," he spat. "Why would we retire?"

Tim resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh (that would only make Damian think he was patronizing him and Tim didn't need to go down that rabbit hole right now). "Damian, if we keep working, we'll get involved in with other heroes and risk the futures of the Tim and Damian of this world."

Damian clenched his fists and exhaled sharply. "We won't work in Gotham – and we'll avoid other heroes!"

"Do you really think two new vigilantes can avoid the rest of the caped community forever?" Tim asked. "Especially when there's already a team who's even a little bit familiar with us? They won't let us operate on our own.

"And set that aside for a minute and think about where we'd operate. You just said we'd avoid Gotham, Damian. Where would we go? We can't work in another hero's city, so we'd have to find somewhere entirely new. Not to mention our methodology is specifically crafted for working in Gotham. A new environment would mean having to adapt our styles.

"I'm not saying we couldn't do it, but think of all the risks, Damian. And it would just be us. Just the two of us. We wouldn't have a base, we wouldn't have any funding, and we wouldn't have any backup while we're trying to start from scratch.

"Damian, just… think."

Damian was shaking when he sat back down in the chair. (He was only shaking a little bit – a barely there full-body tremble – but it was enough to make Tim uncomfortable.)

(Who was he kidding? Damian was breaking his heart right now and it was so, so unfair.)

(Tim had never signed up for this.)

"What are we supposed to do?" Damian's voice was quiet (too quiet). "If we're not- what do we do?"

"Try to live normal lives. If we can make it as vigilantes in Gotham, we can make it as civilians anywhere in the world."

(Tim said it like he believed it.)

(He was such a good liar.)

Damian had that look on his face again – a little lost, a little heartbroken – and Tim really hoped he didn't have to see that expression for a third time tonight.

"Of course," Damian said (he didn't have nearly as much conviction as Tim did, but Tim would lie for the both of them, so Damian didn't have to). "Anything else we need to discuss?"

Damian sounded as exhausted as Tim felt. (And he was so tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He was so tired.) Tim thought about ending the conversation, but leaving it like this… that didn't sit well with him. It would be better to end the night on a lighter note.

"Just a few more things," Tim said. "I don't doubt the League – or at least Batman – will show up to check us out. When we're cleared, they'll do what they can to get us home. Still, there's always a chance that this could go south."

Damian's entire countenance sharpened, which was what Tim had been counting on.

"You think they'll try to attack us?"

No, Tim didn't think that. But there was always a chance, and it was important to have contingencies in place. Just in case.

(Honestly, Tim just wanted to cheer the both of them up. Planning ways to cripple this world's heroes just in case the worst happened was a great way to do that.)

"Better safe than sorry," Tim shrugged. "If this League has the same members as back home, we don't really have to worry about that. We can implement the plans we already have – though we'll have to find a way to get a few supplies."

Damian cocked an eyebrow. "And if this League has different members?"

"Then we'll have to account for that. Sometime tomorrow, I'll hack into the computer and see what sort of information they've got there. Hopefully, it'll have League profiles – as well as profiles on this team."

Damian nodded, satisfied. "The team is the more pressing threat, considering we're staying at their base."

Tim nodded. "I'm not too worried about them, actually. With both of us here, taking them out should be simple."

Damian smirked slightly. "Kryptonite for the Kryptonian, light the Martian and the Atlantean on fire."

Tim smirked back, pleased with the fact that he and Damian were of one mind on how to incapacitate their hosts. "Disarm and knock out the archer, sedatives for the Flash."

He left off Robin, which he was sure Damian had noticed. (But Tim was sure he didn't mind. Neither one of them wanted to think about that.)

"Tt. Should be interesting."

Damian actually sounded like he was looking forward to it, which was not the point of a contingency, but whatever. Tim's plan had worked and Damian no longer looked like he was about to start crying – which, just: no.

"It'll be important to watch for psychological weaknesses we can exploit as well," Tim said.

That was actually less necessary than he was insisting, but Damian needed to work on subtler methods of taking down his opponents and they might as well get something out of this horrible experience.

"Nightly reports?" Damian asked.

"Obviously."

"Tt."

And… that was the end of that.

Talking any more would probably bring them back around to a point that would make them upset, so ending the conversation here was good.

Damian had seemed to come to the same conclusion, considering he wasn't saying anything else.

(Why was this so awkward all of a sudden?)

"Well…" Tim started, hesitating (why was he hesitating?). "We should probably get some sleep…"

Damian nodded curtly, standing up. "Of course. You need it especially, Drake. Honestly, how sleep deprived do you have to be-"

"Don't! Remind me. Please."

"Tt. Idiot."

"Brat."

Damian shifted his stance, but didn't make any move to walk towards the door.

(Oh.)

He didn't want to leave.

(It made sense.. If he left, then he wouldn't be able to see Tim, and how would he know what was going on then?)

(It made sense. Because if he left, then he would be alone, even if Tim was only one room over.)

(It made sense.)

(Tim didn't want him to leave either.)

But Damian was never going to admit that. He was too independent, too prideful. (And he was Damian. And Tim was Tim. And they never didn't want to leave each other's presence.)

How to go about it…

"Well, I need to sleep," Tim said.

"That's true," Damian sniffed, just a little condescending. (Tim couldn't even fault him for it.)

"But it's kind of early for us. You're probably not that tired."

Damian shifted again, tilting his head. "Not particularly."

"And, you know, I didn't change the code."

Tim saw the moment Damian realized what he was doing. Damian looked a little reluctant and a little grudging, but, mostly, he looked grateful.

(If the others were here-)

(No. He wasn't going to think about that.)

Damian scoffed, crossing his arms as he sat back down in the chair. "You haven't slept in days. As much as I hate to admit it, I need an ally at the moment. I can't leave you defenseless in unknown territory."

Tim rolled his eyes. "I'm hardly defenseless."

"I'd attack you, but I don't feel like stitching you up when you prove me right."

Tim snorted and changed positions so he was lying down on the bed. "Wake me up when it's my turn to keep watch."

"Not likely."

Tim huffed a small laugh and closed his eyes.

(He hoped this all turned out okay.)

(He needed it to turn out okay.)

(For Damian's sake.)

(For the sake of everyone back home.)

(For his own sake.)

Jason scowled as he stomped towards the Cave.

He hated being in the Manor. He hated it. He had no idea how Dick could stand being here. He had no idea how anyone could stand being here.

There were too many bad memories. Or, maybe that was just him.

(It was worse now. Because now there were bad memories and missing pieces to go along with them. Damian was a menace and Tim was… Tim, but...)

(This wasn't right.)

There were footsteps. Someone was coming towards him. Not someone. Dick. (Bruce was near silent even out of uniform. Alfred's steps were quiet and measured. And there was no one else it could be.)

Dick caught up to him and offered a smile. It was pitiful, but Jason couldn't blame him. (At least he was trying.)

(Jason would never admit it, but Dick had scared him a little last night. Dick was supposed to be the one with unshakeable faith. The one who would never doubt that they could bring their family back together. Dick was supposed to be the one.)

(Jason didn't know if he could be that.)

"Hey, Jay. Sleep all right?"

Jason grunted, shrugging. "I got two hours. You look like you got less."

He laughed a little, but didn't deny it. (Jason was actually pretty sure Dick hadn't gotten any sleep. Didn't he know that was stupid? Tim was proof of that.)

(Jason hadn't wanted to kill Tim for ages, but he always figured that, if the urge ever struck again, it would be over, well… he wasn't sure. But definitely not Tim's sleeping habits. (Guess you learn something new every day.))

Dick's pace sped up the closer they got to the Cave's entrance. Jason matched his pace easily, just as anxious to reach their destination.

Anxious wasn't the right word. It was more… anticipatory.

Jason didn't torture people anymore (well, not much, anyway, but what Bruce pretended not to know wouldn't hurt him), but he was willing to make an exception for Transporter.

Judging by the cool expression settling on Dick's face as he opened up the entrance to the Cave, Dick wasn't feeling particularly merciful either. (Not that that was a surprise.)

Bruce was already in the Cave, sitting at the computer, which Jason had been expecting. It would have been nice if Bruce had been somewhere else so he (and Dick) could have free reign with their prisoner, but where else would Bruce be?

Really.

"Dick, Jason."

His tone was clipped and he hadn't even turned from the monitors to face them, but Jason knew better than to take it personally. (Not that knowing did anything to make him less agitated. Bruce was such a jerk.)

Dick didn't seem bothered. (Or maybe he was just too focused to let it affect him.) "Bruce. Where is he?"

Straight to business. Jason appreciated it.

"I cordoned off space to hold him. You don't need to worry about it."

And that was the end of Dick's control apparently. Jason didn't think he'd ever seen Dick's emotions change that quickly. (Though it was more like he was losing control. Which Jason could also appreciate.)

"We don't need to worry? Are you kidding? Bruce-" Dick cut himself off sharply. He took a deep breath and started again. "You already questioned him? What did he say?"

Bruce finally turned the chair to face them, lips pursed a fraction too hard. (Rationally, Jason knew there was no real reason to be angry with Bruce – this was almost as hard on him as it was on them. (Not as hard. Because he hadn't been there. (It hadn't been his fault.) But, almost.) But Jason wasn't feeling all that rational. He was pissed at himself and at Dick and at Tim and at Damian and at Transporter, so he might as well be pissed at Bruce too.)

"Not much."

Dick set his jaw and crossed his arms.

Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "His name is Eric Dowell. He got the weapon on the black market – not in Gotham. I've got a name and a location, but nothing else."

"Maybe you weren't persuasive enough," Jason said.

Bruce looked at him steadily. "You're not going to torture him, Jason."

"Really? I'm not? That's news to me."

Bruce was glaring at him now. Funny how he thought that was going to change Jason's mind.

"No, Jason."

Jason scoffed. "Well, your methods didn't get enough out of him, did they? A name and a location? For real? You're satisfied with that?"

Bruce's eyes narrowed further. "No. But I'll get to him after I do more research."

Oh, more research. Great. Well, while he did that, Jason was going to go break every single bone in Eric's body. And maybe shoot him a couple of times. And douse him in acid. That was survivable.

Dick put a hand on his arm when he made to step forward. Jason glared at him. (Seriously? Was he seriously going to side with Bruce right now?)

Dick looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. "He can't give us any more information if he's in a coma, Jason."

…

Both of them pissed him off.

"You said he gave you a name and a location, right?" Dick asked. "What are they? Me and Jason can go check them out."

Jason exhaled slowly and nodded in agreement with Dick's suggestion. It wouldn't make him feel as good as beating Eric up, but it was still something.

Of course, Bruce was not so secretly a sadist, so, instead of going with Dick's surprisingly reasonable suggestion (and where did that come from anyway? Dick had been about to blow all of five seconds ago), he shot them down. "Cass is looking into it."

Jason gaped. "Cass? About yea high, black hair? That Cass?"

Bruce wasn't amused. (Good. Jason wasn't trying to entertain him.) "Yes. That Cass."

"Bruce," Dick started, head titling slightly in that way it did when he was trying (and failing) to make sense of something that shouldn't be as confusing as it was. "Cass is in Hong Kong."

Oh, right. Jason had forgotten that part.

(He'd been upset because no one should take this from them. This was their fault. Their job. Their responsibility. No one else's.)

But that just made it worse.

Cass was on the other side of the world and Bruce was asking her to investigate? They were right here!

"Bruce-"

He cut Dick off. "She's closer."

Jason didn't believe that for a second. "You're a pathological liar, you know that, right? There's no way that guy went and got a weapon in Hong Kong and then came back to Gotham to terrorize the city."

Bruce sighed like Jason wasn't right. "I didn't say he got the weapon in Hong Kong. That doesn't mean she's not closer."

(Was he really supposed to buy that?)

Jason laughed, short and brittle. "You complete and utter-"

"Master Jason, how good to see you stayed the night. Have you eaten breakfast?"

Jason froze and swallowed what he'd been about to say. Cussing someone out in front of Alfred would be a cardinal sin. (Well, he was okay with most cardinal sins. So, something worse.) He turned around and made an effort not to hunch his shoulders. (He wasn't a child. He wasn't going to feel guilty just because Alfred was arching an eyebrow at him.) (And Alfred insisted on good posture.)

"Hey, Alfie. How's it going?"

The corner of Alfred's mouth turned down just a little and Jason felt like a complete idiot. ("How's it going?" Really? That was quite possibly the stupidest question he could have asked at the moment.)

Thankfully, Alfred ignored it. "Breakfast, Master Jason."

"I haven't eaten yet," he answered gruffly.

"Then perhaps you and Master Dick will join Miss Stephanie upstairs. She just arrived, and I wouldn't want her to be alone for long."

And that was a dismissal if he'd ever heard one.

Jason wasn't sure if he would have argued to stay, but he didn't get the chance either way.

"That's a good idea. Come on, Jay."

Dick grabbed his arm and dragged him past Alfred and out of the Cave, walking just a little too quickly and determinedly not looking back at Bruce.

Jason shook his arm out of Dick's grasp when they were back in the Manor. "Seriously? We're just going to leave it?"

(Okay, yeah. He probably would have argued to stay.)

(He was surprised (and maybe a little hurt) that Dick hadn't.)

"Did you really want to get in the middle of that?"

And, yeah, that was a fair point. Alfred had stayed behind instead of herding them upstairs, which meant he had words for Bruce.

But still.

He leveled a glare at Dick.

Dick sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face. "Let's face it, Jay, that conversation was going nowhere. Fast. I was barely holding it together and you were about to blow up and Bruce wasn't budging. I just- it's probably a good thing Alfred came in when he did."

And all of a sudden, Jason felt tired. (Not physically. He'd gone for longer on less sleep. He wasn't tired. He was tired.)

"Yeah," he conceded quietly. "Yeah. Guess you're right."

Dick pulled his hand away from his face and took a deep breath. "Okay. Kitchen?"

Jason nodded and followed after Dick as they started on their way.

He wasn't sure he was ready for this.

(Dealing with Dick and Bruce and himself… he was barely handling it. And definitely not in a healthy way. Adding another person into the mix?

For some reason that didn't sound like a good idea.)

Dick barely hesitated before walking into the kitchen. (But it was enough for Jason to register that it had happened.)

"Hey, Steph. Are those pancakes? Alfred really went all out, huh?"

She turned to look at them with a half-smile and puffy eyes. "Yeah. Glad I stopped by or I'd have missed out."

Jason snorted – more at her effort than the actual teasing.

(He hadn't talked to Steph much, but he liked her. She was tough and funny and a good fighter and she'd hit Tim in the face with a brick once. What wasn't to like?)

(Seeing her this sad kind of pissed him off.)

(Everything was pissing him off right now though, so it wasn't even worth noting.)

Steph's half-hearted smile died out and her shoulders slumped forward. She pushed her eggs around on her plate and took a breath. "So, what's the progress so far?"

She didn't sound too hopeful.

Jason snorted and shrugged. "There isn't any. Bruce has gone full-control freak. He's letting a lead sit until Cass can get to it."

Steph blinked, gaping slightly. "But Cass is in-"

"Yep," Jason affirmed.

"Why?" Steph asked, but she looked more resigned than incensed.

Jason wondered if it was because of the situation, or if repeated exposure to Bruce just sucked the fire out of people.

"No clue," Dick said, sighing.

She scoffed and stabbed at her pancakes. "Figures." She hesitated slightly, tapping her fingers on the counter. "Do you… do you think they're together?"

All of the anger Jason was working up over Bruce drained out of him. And he just felt… empty.

Exhausted.

(He really hoped they were together.)

"They've got to be," Dick said.

His voice was a little too wobbly. (He was hoping, but he wasn't sure he believed it. (Jason needed Dick to believe it, so he could believe it too.))

Steph didn't look like she cared about Dick's lack of conviction. (Or maybe she was just as desperate as they were.) "Yeah. Yeah. Think they're at each other's throats? I mean, it would be just like them to fight over stupid stuff while they're stranded somewhere else, right?"

"No," Dick replied immediately – and this time he sounded sure. "They're looking out for each other."

Jason looked over at Dick – at the first true confidence Jason had seen on his face since last night – and he believed him.

(He'd hoped as much last night when Damian disappeared. That the two of them would be together. That they'd look after each other. He'd hoped and tried to make himself believe it.

But he'd seen Damian push Tim off a roof before.)

(But Dick was around the two of them more than he was. He knew better. And if he said they'd look after each other, then they would.

It made sense, really. After all, Jason was here. In the Manor. He'd stayed the night because Dick had asked him to.

When push came to shove, they stuck together.

Damian and Tim weren't any different.)

(Jason really, really hoped they were together.)

"Why are we still in here?" Damian snarled, making his… 29th circuit around the room since Drake had woken up and told him they would be waiting in the room until someone came to collect them.

He didn't appreciate being caged in an alternate universe at the mercy of strangers – and he didn't understand why Drake didn't mind putting them in a weaker position.

(He did, actually. It was because Drake's sense of self-preservation was nearly non-existent. It was horrifying.)

Drake looked up from his handheld computer, solely to roll his eyes at Damian before turning back to his work. "How would you feel if we put someone up in the Cave and then came down the next day to find them poking their nose in everything?"

It would piss Damian off.

"That wouldn't happen because we would assign a watch to ensure it. It's not our fault these heroes aren't as thorough as we are."

Drake titled his head in concession. "That doesn't mean we should go around pointing out their flaws to them. It'll give us something to use if it comes down to it."

Damian could appreciate that – though he was fairly sure Drake had come up with that excuse off the top of his head to get him to shut up.

Damian huffed and dropped down into the desk chair, glaring at Drake to keep himself busy.

It took five minutes for Drake to break and look up at him. (When Drake was concentrating on something, it normally took 15 minutes for him to give in. If he was breaking early, that meant he wasn't nearly as calm as he was pretending to be. (Damian wasn't sure how he felt about that.))

"What?"

"It's taking you longer than I expected to hack into this system, Drake? Getting rusty?"

He heaved a sigh and narrowed his eyes. "Maybe it's taking me so long because a bratty midget is distracting me."

Damian glared and tugged off his gauntlet to throw it at Drake.

He didn't bother dodging. "Oh. Ow. That hurt so much. Am I bleeding? Do I have a concussion?"

Damian sneered and leaned back into the chair, crossing his arms. "One day, I'm going to be taller than you."

"I'd sue if that happened."

"Tt. Who?"

"You, Bruce, The League of Assassins."

"I'm sure that would go over well."

He shrugged and went back to fiddling with his computer.

"Give me back my gauntlet."

"I'm busy."

Damian scowled and got up, stomping over to the bed and snatching his gauntlet back up. He put it on and leaned over Drake's shoulder. "With what? Failing to hack into the system?"

Damian smirked at the exasperated grunt Drake let out. "I'm not trying to hack into the system yet – I'm just testing it. I want to get a feel for the security – if it's like back home, I can be in within minutes. But I don't want to make any mistakes and tip them off to what I'm doing."

It made sense, but it was boring. Damian sighed and opened his mouth to tell Drake as much (it would really only serve to annoy him, but that was the point really), when a knock sounded through the room.

They both froze, eyes snapping to the door.

"Yeah?" Drake's voice was the same affected calm he always used when he was "over-compartmentalizing" (that's what the other's called it, at least; Damian would never admit it, but he wished he knew how to do it).

It was a travesty of his eldest brother's voice that responded (and it made Damian sick). "Everyone decent?"

The upbeat tone made Damian want to sink into the floor – made him wish they'd been sent anywhere but here (made him wish they were back home).

"Not quite." Drake said it easily enough, a slight smile on his face like Gray- Robin had x-ray vision (but Damian could see the brittleness underneath). "Batman's here?"

"Yeah, with Green Lantern and Zatara to run some scans on you guys. I've got some clothes that should fit okay. We can get new ones later. I'll leave 'em outside the door; can you be ready in 10?"

That was a stupid question. Of course, they could. It was insulting to imply that they couldn't. (Maybe being offended would stop him from feeling so nauseated at the idea of there being a "later".)

"Thanks,' Drake said, slipping the computer back into his belt and pulling his cowl over his head.

"No problem."

Drake waited for 25 seconds (7 seconds longer than it would take for Robin to get out of sight range. Damian wondered if Drake was just being safe, or if he needed time to compose himself) before standing up, opening the door, and bringing in the clothes Robin had left behind for them.

"He left sunglasses, so we can ditch the masks, too."

Damian stared at him in disbelief. He crossed his arms. "I'm not wearing those."

Drake threw the clothes onto the bed, tugged his cowl down, and ran a hand through his hair. "Damian. If we go out there suited up, what message do you think we'd be sending?"

"The right one."

"Outright hostility isn't the right message to send to people who are trying to help us get back home."

Damian gritted his teeth and drew his shoulders back.

"No! Damian… no. I don't like it either, but we can't risk doing anything that might make them hesitate in helping us get back. Just- put on the clothes."

Drake turned around, shoulders taut as he began taking off his gloves.

Damian stared at Drake's back and set his jaw. (He knew… he knew that. He knew Drake was right. But… (He just wanted to go home.))

Damian inhaled deeply and cursed himself at the shuddering sound. Drake's movements stilled for a second, but it was enough to let Damian know he'd heard it. (Drake was the last person he wanted to be weak in front of. But better him than anyone out there.)

(He was just grateful Drake wasn't calling him out on it.)

Damian tugged off his gauntlets sharply and took of his cape. "I'm keeping my utility belt on."

Drake nodded. "That's a good idea. Wear it under the sweatshirt – it should be baggy enough to hide it."

Damian shifted slightly. "…Batman might notice."

"I doubt he'll be surprised." Drake's response was instantaneous – like he hadn't even stopped to think about what Damian had said. (Damian wished he didn't have to think about it).

(He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He couldn't-)

"Ready?" Drake asked, turning around and adjusting his sweatshirt over his belt.

Damian jolted and avoided eye contact. "Almost."

Damian finished getting dressed quickly, ignoring Drake as he gathered up the pieces of both of their uniforms and set them in the closet. (Grayson did that – picked up his uniform while Damian was changing into civilian clothes. It didn't matter how many times Damian told Grayson that he could pick up his own clothes – and that he would once he finished changing.) (He didn't want to think about Grayson, but that looked like it was going to be impossible.)

There was another knock. "You guys ready?"

Damian wished they'd sent someone else.

"Yeah," Drake responded, rolling his shoulders and exhaling slightly. (He did that when he was preparing to be someone else. Someone who wasn't Red Robin or Tim Drake. It was a little interesting – not a lot because Drake and everything he did was boring – to watch him don a different persona. Damian wondered which one this would be.)

Drake turned to him and slid his sunglasses on. "Sunglasses make me look like a pretentious jerk."

"So, basically, they do nothing to change your appearance?"

Drake's scowled, but his stance shifted into something more relaxed, and Damian scoffed. He should have known Drake would never set himself up for an insult that obvious without an ulterior motive. (And while it was unnecessary for Drake to make sure he was okay (he was fine; he had to be) Damian appreciated the thought.)

"Shall we?" Damian asked, slipping his glasses on and arching an eyebrow, knowing Drake would be able to tell.

He snorted in response. "Well, we wouldn't want to keep our hosts waiting."

There was a cold edge in Drake's otherwise perfectly polite tone, and it made Damian laugh softly.

He wasn't looking forward to this (it would be physically impossible for him to be looking forward to this), but it was nice to know Drake wasn't going to go easy on them – in spite of all his talk about not antagonizing their "hosts".

(Damian really hoped they could survive this.)

(He wasn't sure he could.)

"Come on, brat."

Drake opened the door and greeted Robin. Damian steeled himself to face Grayson's smile on a face that wasn't his, but was met with Drake's back instead.

Something tight and hard and dangerously sharp softened in his chest.

He didn't need Drake's help (he didn't), but Drake was offering it anyway. Quiet and subtle – the only way Damian could accept it from him.

(Damian didn't think he could get through this on his own, but Drake was standing here in front of him.)

(Maybe he could get through it like this.)

(He really hoped he could get through it like this. He didn't have any other options.)