I am aware that the Batmobile's doors cannot be "slammed" shut the way a normal vehicle's could, but a Damian mid-tantrum would find a way to do it. Fight me.

The sound of the Batmobile door slamming shut echoed in the cave and sent several bats fluttering away.

"It would have been fine if you hadn't been there!"

Red Robin braked his motorcycle harder than he should have, narrowly avoiding throwing himself into Batcow in the process. "Well, sorry for completing the mission with minimal civilian damage."

"The mission was hardly completed; because of you, the perps got away!"

"Because of you," Red Robin started, "there were fifteen hostages that needed to be rescued first."

Robin crossed his arms. "They would have been fine! I had it under control!"

"No you didn't! You were too busy trying to impress B to even notice the bomb!"

Robin paused, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "There was a bomb."

The older boy carried on as though he hadn't heard him. "It was a rookie mistake!" He stormed up until he cast his shadow over the young Robin. "The rest of us have been trained—"

Robin uncrossed his arms in favor of making fists. He spoke through grit teeth. "I was raised with the most elite training—"

"You were trained to murder people!"

"I—"

It was at that point that the Batmobile's driver's side door opened, revealing the Batman, glare and all. His disapproving look was enough to keep the boys from taking the last steps towards one another. It did nothing to cut the tension, though.

"Red Robin." Tim stood to attention on automatic, but it was clear by the way his hand hovered near his belt that he was still cautious of Damian. "Head to the showers. I want a full report on what happened tonight." Red Robin gave a shallow nod in acknowledgement but didn't otherwise move.

"Now," Batman almost growled. Red Robin jumped a little at the tone of voice, but his shoulders relaxed when he realized Batman's gaze was directed at Robin instead of himself. With a smirk over his shoulder, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the changing rooms.

Robin watched him leave with a growing sense of dread. Back at the League, his servants were sent away before he was punished to prevent them seeing him as weak. He knew his father would never hurt him, but some small part of him was always wary still.

"Robin," and it was Damian's turn to go stiff. "No patrol for two weeks."

Damian's stomach clenched. "But—"

"Three weeks, and you'll meet Alfred at six a.m. each morning to assist with chores."

Damian glowered. "This is not fair."

Batman—he hadn't taken off the cowl or readjusted his voice yet—made his way toward the Batcomputer chair. "You need to learn that your actions have consequences." He began to flick through the case files on his computer. "You went offline for two hours tonight, failed to follow my orders, and endangered the lives of civilians needlessly."

Robin frowned. "I was doing what I was supposed to. The mission—"

"There is more to this line of work than bringing criminals to justice. If Red Robin hadn't intercepted their radio transmissions, you and the hostages would be dead."

That got Robin's lips to purse. He waited, watching Batman sift through the city's surveillance and methodically alter or delete any trace the Batfamily had been there. After several minutes, Batman took an external storage device from his utility belt and hooked it in.

The cruise ship that served as a front for the criminals came into focus, from several odd angles. After a second, Robin sprinted across the view of one. Damian watched with his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth as the hidden cameras picked him up in three. . . four places, the last being what he had thought was a secure hiding place. And then he caught movement from that initial camera, as armed guards crept carefully around the corner, clearly aware that Robin was present.

Damian didn't miss the way Batman's jaw clenched. He didn't miss when Batman's shoulders rose as the guards approached while Robin had remained unaware. He definitely noticed Batman's fingers twitch when the guards surrounded Robin with guns trained on his yellow R.

It was lucky that the power had mysteriously gone out at that moment. Luckier still that, by the time the light was returned, Robin had been swept from the ship and buckled into the Batmobile under threat of permanent dismissal.

Batman's hand clenched into a fist, and the footage was saved.

"Father—"

Batman's hand raised in a silent command to be quiet. Damian complied, unwilling to further anger him.

"You have improved." Damian squelched whatever hope was rising in his chest, knowing an admonition would be on the heels of his father's scant praise. "But it's clear to me your League training is interfering with your performance in the field."

Robin wilted.

Finished with whatever he had been doing, Batman stood. "I'll tell Alfred to expect you in the morning." And he walked toward the changing rooms.

At the same time, Tim reappeared in an old T-shirt and a pair of sweats, toweling his hair dry. His shoulders were more relaxed than Damian had seen them all night. "Hey, B, I was wondering if maybe next weekend we could. . . ." He trailed off as Batman walked right past him and disappeared into the changing room, not sparing him a second glance.

If Damian cared he would have noticed that Tim's face fell. As it was, for reasons totally unrelated to what he may or may not have witnessed, he suddenly felt the need to say something to him. "Drake."

Tim's eyes snapped to him and narrowed in suspicion. His face quickly took on that cool, unaffected look that Damian himself had perfected years ago; his shoulders began to inch up again. "What?"

Damian took a moment to choose his words carefully. "Father has brought to my attention the value of what assistance you were able to provide in tonight's mission."

Yes. Grayson would be proud.

Tim scoffed and a single shoulder hitched up in a half-shrug. "I was doing my job." His eyes flit to his discarded motorcycle and he started going through the motions to put it away properly.

Damian studied Tim's retreat, considering what he had said. Then he scowled, took a defensive step back, and raised his chin. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Tim paused in refueling his bike to glance back over his shoulder. "After you disappeared, B left me so he could go look for you." He turned his back to Damian again. "I hacked into their transmissions to listen for any sign we had been discovered. That's when I heard about the bomb." He shifted his weight on his feet, seeming to take a moment to consider whether to continue or not. "If you hadn't gone offline, you would have known about it, too."

Damian lowered his chin into a glower. "Do not try to place the blame for tonight's failed mission on me."

Tim's brow furrowed and his shoulders raised. "I'm not—" he cut himself off with a huff. His eyes skirted the changing room door where Bruce had disappeared. Perhaps they flicked to the Jason Todd memorial, perhaps they landed among the discarded prototypes Tim and Bruce had worked on before Batman was lost in time. He shook his head. "People can't change."

Something about the way Tim said it made Damian's heart catch. "You are wrong."

Tim sat down in the chair in front of the Batcomputer and began typing up a report, giving no sign of having heard Damian.

But he was tired of being ignored. "If people were unable to change," Damian levelled at his back, "I would have stayed with Mother."

Tim didn't look away from his work. "Exactly."

Damian watched the reflection of Tim's face on the darker parts of the screen. "Speaking vaguely is beneath you, Drake. Tell me what you are trying to say."

Tim's fingers paused. He studied the keyboard a moment, then seemed to make up his mind and continued typing. When it became clear he didn't intend to explain, it took everything in Damian's power to not stomp his foot.

He glared at Drake's back all the way to the changing room. As such, he didn't see his father until he was right on top of him.

He caught himself and made to step around him, but Bruce's heavy hand landed on his shoulder. "Robin."

Damian shrugged the hand off and kept going.

"Damian."

Damian paused. Absently, he noticed that Tim had stopped typing, too.

He heard Bruce turn around but as a small act of defiance refused to meet his gaze. The hand rested back on his shoulder anyway and, to his amazement, squeezed reassuringly. "I'm glad you're okay."

He didn't know what to say, so rolled his eyes with a "tt," and disappeared.

He took longer than normal to shower and change, so didn't expect to see anybody else in the Cave by the time he emerged. But Drake was still at the Batcomputer, tapping away at the keyboard, a fresh mug of coffee on the desk before him. No doubt left by Pennyworth.

"Tt. If Father knew it would take you all night to type a simple report, he would have hired a monkey to do it instead."

"Not now, Damian."

There was a small window open next to the report, playing what Damian recognized as more footage from the night's mission. Red Robin was the star, one of the guards' communicators hooked to his belt. He was leading the group of hostages to the relative safety of the docks. With two people, the task would have been easy enough—one person leading and another tailing—but by himself Red Robin had been forced to watch for enemies from all angles.

Damian watched over Tim's shoulder in fascination as Red Robin fought off a group of guards once they reached the deck of the ship, successfully drawing attention away from the hostages taking the lifeboats to safety. A foolish move, especially without backup. They could have easily thrown him overboard.

The eyes of the Red Robin on screen widened when the gang members managed to corner him. Though Damian knew the outcome of the fight, his blood ran cold when he realized Red had been talking to Batman over the comms the whole time: 'I need backup.'

But Batman was looking for Robin.

The footage froze, Red Robin's grapple hook pulling his feet free of the chaos below. "Is there something you want?" Tim asked.

Damian swallowed, transfixed by the knowledge of what had happened. "What possessed you to attempt that on your own?"

"I was doing my job. It had to be done."

"It was foolish. You should have gone with sufficient support."

"I did." A pause. "Batman had bigger problems to worry about."

Damian scowled at the implication. As though he needed reminding. "Where is Father?"

"How should I know?"

"You were the last to see him."

"No, you were."

Recalling his earlier conversation with his father reminded Damian of his early morning appointment. Whatever good mood he had collected evaporated in an instant. "Just as well. I suppose he thought it better to fall asleep in bed than talking to you."

The reaction he provoked was more than he could have hoped for. Tim's fingers stopped their rhythm, and he turned in the chair to look Damian square in the eye. It was unnerving the heat he could put behind the glare without showing emotion in his face. "More likely he was too tired from cleaning up your messes. He probably took you off patrol to keep you from hurting anybody else."

"Nobody got hurt."

For a moment it looked like Tim wanted to say something to the contrary, but then he settled on, "Not tonight, no thanks to you. But it has happened, and it will happen again."

"You destroy everything, Damian. It's in your nature."