Disclaimer: I own nothing, and I'm not making any money from it.
Spoiler: If you don't want to be spoiled even a little for this story, look away now! Still here? Okay. Just in case someone starts to freak out, I promise no one dies! At least, not permanently… Spoiler done.
Author's Note: In case it's not already evident, I am a big fan of Dick Grayson. Always have been. This is set in a sort of ambiguous "kind of New 52" timeline. Most of it's just what things look like in my head. Sorry to any canon purists out there. Also, apologies for any errors or other typos in this story. I don't have a beta reader. I'm not sure where you search for people who don't mind proof reading terrible Batman fanfic for free…
Summary: Ra's Al Ghul has a lesson to teach the Dark Knight. And then Nightwing throws a wrench in the works.

Lazarus Point

"Ow!" Dick Grayson winced as a member of the League of Shadows tightened his restraints. The combination of handcuffs, zip ties, and monofilament seemed like overkill, but... well, it really wasn't.

He glanced around, satisfied by the amount of flaming wreckage and unconscious bodies. The devastated carcass of a truck creaked as the metal expanded from the high temperature of the fire. Smashed crates full of military supplies littered the ground near a pair of overturned jeeps with their undercarriages scorched by explosives. One of the wheels spun slowly with a distressing squeal. A loud crash filled the space, making everyone flinch, as the burning cargo aircraft collapsed on its landing gear.

Yep. That was some good work for only a half-hour. Definitely got their attention.

The assassin gave Dick a heavy handed shove, causing him to stumble forward. "All right, all right! I'm going. Sheesh." He started walking, following another of the darkly dressed men. "You folks sure know how to make a guy feel welcome. Hope you don't mind me crashing your party."

The last comment earned him another angry push and the distinct prick of a blade against his shoulders as incentive to shut-the-hell-up. Dick could feel the sharp metal through his heavy leather jacket and considered that it might have been wiser to spare the time to collect and don his 'suit' before making the trek to the remote mountain location. Hindsight. Oh well.

Surrounded by a squad of assassins now, Dick was lead through a tunnel and into the mountain. They were definitely taking him seriously, with weapons drawn and watchful eyes. He noted, though, the rapid exchange of nervous glances. 'The boss isn't going to like this' the look said.

The passage spilled them out into a wide, high cavern after a few minutes, and Dick quickly took stock of the surroundings. The marks on the rock declared this wasn't a natural formation, that it had been carved and blasted out of the interior of the mountain. In the center was a deep hole with a strange, platform contraption suspended over it from heavy chains. There was an enormous hand crank that looked like it would lower the metal slab, and down in the deep fissure, the chemicals of a Lazarus Pit bubbled greedily. The tell-tale green haze rose over the lip of the pit. Standing nearby were the very people Dick had come to find.

"Nice digs, Ra's!" he called, "Very 'Temple of Doom.'" As his escort approached, he took in Bruce's furious and disappointed eyes, Tim's expression of worry, and Damian's fleeting look of surprise and... gratitude? All three were in their uniforms, though their normally disguised faces were bare. No need to hide your identity here. None of them was bound either.

Of greater concern were the multitude of black-clad, heavily armed killers. Ra's Al Ghul watched him silently, sword drawn at his side, and a disturbingly sly smile starting to curl his lips. But it was Talia's possessively clutching fingers on Damian's shoulders that registered foremost in Dick's assessment. Whatever had been going on in here had kept the three crime fighters from cleaning house on the ninjas. Not good. But good timing.

"I figured my invitation had been lost in the mail, but the guy at the door told me my name wasn't on the list," Dick quipped. "A couple pounds of semtex on your plane seemed to change his mind pretty fast." He staggered when the man behind him brutally forced him forward. He was now standing toe to toe with the Demon's Head.

"It was a... regrettable oversight on the part of my subordinates. Your arrival was expected, though not quite so soon. You have managed to wreak a significant amount of havoc in a short amount of time." Burning eyes regarded him for a moment before Ra's turned back to his other captives. "From your silence, Detective, I take it you weren't expecting your eldest to fail so spectacularly? His entrance was more noisome than normal."

Bruce's visage might as well have been carved from stone for all the reaction he gave. Yeah. He was pissed, Dick decided. Especially considering how his 'eldest' had blatantly disobeyed his last order to not come rescue them. But really, what did Bruce expect? His father and brothers suddenly disappear while he was out of town, and Dad expected him to just hang around the house and wait? Not a chance.

Time to move this show along. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Ra's, but the jig is up."

The commander of the League of Shadows looked back to him with a raised eyebrow. "...Pardon?"

"Your goose is cooked. The fat lady has sung. Good night, sweet prince. You've lost." Grayson smiled gleefully at the confusion that spread along the Shadows ranks. "Unlike my boss, you see, I don't always feel the need to do everything myself. I don't mind delegating."

He had Ra's full attention now. "And what, pray tell, does that mean?"

Dick couldn't help it; he chuckled. "It means I'm just the delivery boy. Your pals really need to be a bit more thorough in their searches." He felt the assassin behind him snatch a tiny device from his restrained fingers. "It's amazing how small they make gps trackers these days, ya know?"

Curiosity and mild alarm was evident in the motions of the Shadow assassins now. Talia glanced at her father and then to Bruce's still immobile countenance while Tim's eyebrows rose. Damian was frowning, but, admittedly, that was a normal expression for the dour boy.

This was the fun part. It really was. Time to let them all in on the plan. "This shindig seemed like such a good idea, I figured I'd invite a guest," Dick drawled, relaxing his stance completely, going for 'magnificently bored' with his body language. "Too bad my go-to gal had to stay home with the family." Translation: Batgirl was in charge of Gotham. "So I figured I'd ask a friend of mine to make an appearance. You've probably seen him on TV. Tall guy, not from around here, faster than a speeding bullet... big 'S' on his chest."

Mild alarm became strictly controlled panic in an instant. The ninjas shuffled and looked to their leaders expectantly for new orders. Ra's stared intently at the dark haired acrobat who was snickering, entirely amused by the disorder he had sown. "Your lackey back there," Dick jerked his head to indicate the man holding the tracker behind him, "was nice enough to just activate the tracer for me. Wouldn't want the celebrity star to get lost on his way here, would we?"

"He's bluffing," Talia insisted. Her voice wasn't entirely convincing in its confidence, and her grip on Damian's tunic tightened in a telling way.

"No, he's not." Bruce's expression was still unreadable, but something flickered in his gaze. Dick wasn't sure if it was appreciation or censure. "This is finished."

Ra's inhaled, chest expanding before letting the breath out as an exaggerated sigh. "Yes. It does seem as if my timetable has suddenly been collapsed and my plans have been... foiled." His smile was all at once chilling as he addressed Dick. "This was... unexpected. Well done, boy. But I can hardly let you get the last word in this, can I?"

There was no time to react as the Demon's Head wrapped his free arm around Dick's shoulders, drawing him close. His other arm quickly plunged his saber through the young man's chest, shearing through flesh and vital organs and out the back of the leather jacket. Dick's chin had caught on Ra's shoulder, tilting his surprised face upwards, eyes wide with shock and fleeting pain. "I'm quite sure that was unexpected as well," Ra's said as he jerked his blade free.

"NO!" Damian surged forward, tearing from his mother's grasp. Grayson's knees buckled, heavy tread of his boots skidding against the rock floor, and he slid bonelessly down Ra's chest for a moment before the older man stepped away. Damian caught his shoulders and awkwardly lowered him the rest of the way to the ground. Dick's head came to rest in the boy's lap, limbs completely slack, arms still bound. Blue eyes stared lifelessly.

Dropping down to join them, Tim immediately pressed one hand to the sword wound while his other desperately sought for a pulse. A tense moment passed before his face crumpled, and he closed his eldest brother's eyes with trembling, gentle fingers. Letting his forehead fall against Dick's shoulder, Tim expelled a small sob. Damian's posture was etched in grief as he bowed over the body, and his small hands groped for a moment before fisting themselves in Grayson's black jacket.

Dick was never so still. It screamed of wrongness. It wasn't fair. This wasn't supposed to happen...

Observing the two children mourn their ersatz sibling, Ra's spoke coolly while blood dripped from his weapon, "And so you see, Detective. My point is made. I had intended to provide less... drastic proof, but your protege reminded me that I had underestimated him. A pity. And a waste." He looked to Bruce who hadn't moved during all the activity, simply staring down at his family. It was the Batman that suddenly returned his gaze, however, head snapping up at the sound of the villain's voice. Searing rage made the man's blue eyes dark with promised retribution, and the boiling anger felt like it had dammed in his throat and seized up his tongue.

Damian's choked voice broke the tense and momentary silence. "I hate you." He threw off Talia's questing hands as she leaned forward to pull her son to her. "I hate both of you," he said venomously.

"I'm sure you do," Ra's flippantly replied. "This is a lesson you need to learn, however. We shall take our leave. I doubt there's much time before -"

The rock above shattered with a concussive sound, sending the League of Shadows into motion as the bright blue and red of Superman impacted the rocky floor. Weapons were hurled and bounced harmlessly off the Man of Steel. He glanced to Bruce for instruction, but received nothing as the Batman's cowl was pulled determinedly back into place.

Tim expanded his collapsible bo staff with a flick of his wrist, cautiously watching Talia who was torn between running after her quickly departing father or collecting her son. "Just try it," he warned, voice still hoarse with grief. She backed away, generous lips pinched into a thin line before turning to flee from the violently erupting melee.

Spinning around, Tim found Damian had hooked his arms under Dick's shoulders and was trying to wrestle the dead weight towards the bubbling fissure in the center of the cavern. "What are you doing?!" Tim demanded. He was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question.

"What does it look like, Drake?" The youngest Wayne's glare was challenging. "Are you going to help me or not?"

Tim hesitated, glancing towards the furious scene of combat. Superman was doing his best not to permanently harm the assassins that had leapt on him, while Batman struggled through the throngs towards the exit Ra's and Talia had disappeared through. Neither would approve. Dick wouldn't approve. There were so many variables and chances for this to go wrong in a million different ways. But.

"Let's hurry." He grabbed Dick's legs and the two managed to carry the body over to the lip of the Lazarus Pit where they set him down. "Geez. This one's deep. Help me grab this thing..."

As the two young heroes reached for the metal platform, a dark shape flew by them. They stared in disbelief as the unconscious form of a ninja hurled by Superman collided with Dick's inert figure. Their brother tumbled over the edge into the liquid below.

"You have got to be kidding me," Tim said. "Crap." He let his weight hang from the steel chains, incredulous.

"Not eloquent, but yes," Damian agreed as he hauled with all his strength on the jangling tethers. "We need to move fast. His hands were tied, and there's nothing down there for him to use to climb up."

The hanging platform gradually swung into position over the pit, and Tim paused for a moment to look down. He was breathing heavily from the exertion, eyes searching. "Um... I seem to remember this stuff working pretty fast. I... I don't see him."

"Then we'll have to go get him. Stop wasting time, Drake!" Damian was already running to the control winch and looked at him expectantly.

Landing gracefully on top of the swaying metal plate, Tim turned to give his youngest brother a sign that he was ready but instead saw one of the assassins attacking. Damian dodged without needing to think, leaving the black-clad man to trip the rusted mechanism by accident.

"Perfect," Tim bit out as he found himself suddenly free-falling down the deep fissure. He grabbed the supporting chains, but was still almost thrown off when the platform suddenly lurched to a halt mere inches above the liquid surface. Up top, Damian had viciously knocked his attacker unconscious and grabbed the wildly spinning crank handle. He hissed at the strain on his arms.

The plate rocked unsteadily under his feet, and it took Tim a few moments to get good enough footing to release his hand holds. Noxious green vapors clung to him as he kneeled down, cautiously reaching into the chemicals. This was one of those times Tim was thankful for the heavy armored gloves of the Red Robin costume. He felt blindly for anything under the surface. What if it hadn't worked? What happened if someone came back only to drown in the Lazarus water? Could you drown in a Lazarus Pit? Tim's brain raced with a thousand worst case scenarios. "I can't... I can't find him!"

"It's not that deep, dammit!" came Damian's frustrated response. He leaned over the lip of the pit, eyes casting about. "Where are you, Grayson?" he muttered, beginning to feel the crawling sensation of desperation in his gut.

Tim's hand finally connected with something, and he pulled immediately. Even with his toned strength, Dick's weight was difficult to manage with such poor traction. Struggling and sliding, Red Robin managed to get his brother's slack form up on the metal plate. Grayson startled him with a gurgling cough, gagging and trying to suck in air in place of the Lazarus liquid. "Got him!" Laying his brother on his side, Tim used the sharp edge of a batarang to saw at the bonds on Dick's hands. "Just breath, okay? We've got you. We've got you."

Above, Damian sagged with crushing relief. He grunted as he slowly turned the crank handle. The weight of two people plus the damage to the mechanism made the process difficult and his arms started to shake with the effort. The shriek of abused metal surprised him as a damaged link on the chain gave way. Finding himself tossed backwards by the sudden give in force, Damian watched in alarm as the platform tipped and one of the strands of chain whipped up and over the pulleys mounted in the high ceiling. Tim let out a shout of surprise as he barely managed to grab the collar of Dick's jacket in one hand. Skidding down the tractionless surface, he caught one of the remaining chains in his free hand. The two jolted to a stop and spun helplessly as the contraption twisted freely. "This is ridiculous!" Damian protested from his spot on the ground. "Nothing should be this complicated!"

A blue and red blur dipped over the edge and sped back out, coming to a stop next to him. Tim dropped to all fours, breathing deeply in relief while Dick continued to choke up lungfuls of liquid. "Are you three okay?" Superman asked, eyes full of earnest concern.

Tim watched his newly revived brother roll onto his back, still wheezing painfully, saturated limbs sprawling. Red Robin smiled lopsidedly, "Yeah... Yeah, I think we..." He stuttered as he caught sight of Batman's relentlessly severe face just behind the Kryptonian, "... are..." They were so unbelievably busted.

Expression defiant, Damian lifted his chin to meet his father's eyes. "We're alive. All of us." Batman held his gaze for a moment just long enough to be uncomfortable. They would discuss this later, he silently promised.

Superman knelt next to Dick who sat up slowly with his support. "What'd I miss?" the acrobat slurred, voice rough and unfocused eyes blinking rapidly. His dark hair was plastered to his skull and green liquid pooled on the stone beneath him. "Where'd all the ninja's go? Did I miss the good part?"

Laughing tiredly, Tim laid a gloved hand on his brother's drenched shoulder. "Nah. They all took off when Superman busted through the roof."

Dick's expression was as comically disappointed as it was disoriented. "I did miss the good part! I was looking forward to getting to see them lose their minds when he showed up..." Frowning, he felt along his chest with both hands. His normally deft fingers clumsily prodded the bloody hole in his T-shirt. "Did... Did I... die?" he asked, voice full of confusion.

"We're leaving," came Batman's abrupt reply.

"Dude, I feel so buzzy."

"Buzzy?" Tim asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that meant.

"Yeah, you know. Buzzy. Like... When you haven't slept in four days and drink a gallon of espresso before you go on patrol and then you get blown out of a window by an explosion after a ton of guys try to stab and shoot you? Buzzy." Dick scrubbed at his face with the palm of his hand. He felt exhausted and energetic and... sticky. Who knew the Lazarus Pit was sticky?

"Riiiight..." Tim winced as Alfred finished probing his abused shoulders for any sign of serious damage. The older man gave him a gentle pat on the back before packing up his medical supplies.

"I feel like I'm dialed up to eleven!" Dick tried to explain.

"Why eleven?" Damian immediately asked. The number seemed unnecessarily precise and utterly arbitrary. Not that Grayson was making much sense anyway.

Craning around to look at him, Dick was incredulous, "Eleven! You know. Spinal Tap?"

Damian's face did a dance between confusion and irritation. "What does an invasive medical procedure have to do with the number eleven?" The boy threw his hands in the air. Grayson had been chattering nonstop since his revival. He was starting to wonder if there was brain damage associated with drowning in a Lazarus Pit.

"Oh geez! You've never seen it. We should totally watch - OW!" Flinching back, Dick glared accusingly at Bruce who had just finished taking a blood sample. "Seriously? If you don't want to watch it, you could just say so."

Even the Batman's patience seemed to be wearing thin. Bruce gazed at him seriously, noting his son's blown pupils and erratic pulse. Better than earlier, but still abnormal. "You'll need a full work up to make sure there aren't any side effects."

"Side effects... to being brought back from the dead? Does anyone else thing that sounds crazy? Or maybe it makes sense. God, I feel buzzy." Dick dropped his head into his hands.

"So you've said," Damian muttered, fussing with the edges of the blanket draped over the acrobat's back. He let out an undignified squawk as Dick pulled the boy into a sudden hug, face mashed into his big brother's shoulder. Remaining still for a few moments, Damian finally spoke up, muffled by Dick's sleeve, "Do you have to keep doing that? Drake and Pennyworth might not care, but I find it irritatingly sentimental."

"I love you too, lil' D," was the only response. Damian let out an aggrieved sigh as Dick let him go. "Hey, boss man, am I cleared to at least take a shower? This Lazarus stuff is starting to itch."

"Hnnn," Bruce said, inspecting the results of the blood analysis on the computer.

"Great!" Dick clapped his hands and jumped off the exam table, making a beeline for the lift. Damian, despite his complaints, was hot on his heels. "I may have been dead, but at least I don't have to be sticky."

Tim scurried after them, reluctant to let his older brother out of his sight. "Well, you were only dead for, like, ten minutes tops. You were probably just mostly dead."

"Oh!" Damian proclaimed, "I know that one. Brown and Gordon forced me to watch it."

Dick's laughter drifted through the cave, glancing off the high ceiling. "No one gets forced to watch Princess Bride, Dami. Though, aggressively introduced might be appropriate in your case..." The boys' voices faded as they headed up to the manor.

"They seem to be handling it well," Superman finally spoke up. He'd watched the antics of Bruce's sons with amusement. "It's good to see them like that."

Smiling under his well groomed mustache, Alfred handed a steaming mug of tea to the Kryptonian. "Indeed it is, Mr. Kent. There are days when they are... less civil to one another. Narrowly avoided tragedy does have a habit of reminding them how much they truly care for each other." The butler paused before adding, "Even if one of them is loath to admit it."

Clark sipped his warming drink as he leaned against the computer workstation. "I don't know. Damian seems to be doing pretty well. I guess he's gotten over the phase where he was trying to stab Tim."

"That was last week," Batman cut in, voice heavy though still slightly amused. He nodded his thanks as Alfred set another mug near his right elbow before leaving.

"And how are you doing?" Superman watched his friend carefully. He realized the likelihood of getting a real, honest conversation out of Bruce was slim, but then again...

"I... I'm not sure."

Clark's eyebrows made a break for his hairline. "Do you... want to talk about it?" He really didn't need Bruce's scathing look to know that was a terrible way to phrase it, but he shrugged.

Studying the results of Dick's physical workup, the Batman lapsed into silence for a time as he considered the question. "He died, Clark. My son... died." He drifted his knuckles across his forehead in a rare errant gesture before continuing. "Ra's wanted to make a point. That he could take my family from me whenever he wanted. I had assumed he was going to try some... psychological trick with Tim or Damian, and that may have been what he intended... But instead..."

"He's alright now, Bruce. I know it had to have been hard for you to watch that..."

"It happened so damn fast!" he growled, "I wasn't expecting it. I should have been expecting it. Tim was right. It was less than ten minutes total. And yet... It's right there... It's all I see." Bruce gestured vaguely. He hated explaining things like this. The intangible, shifting thoughts.

Placing a broad hand on his friend's shoulder, Clark's expression conveyed his sorrow. "You didn't fail him, Bruce. I wasn't fast enough either. Dick asked me to hang back in case things weren't that serious. I should have insisted..."

"I know, dammit," Bruce cut in thickly. "I just... I just..." The walls would come back up in a moment, they both know. But right now it was just so heavy. "Ra's left us there with the pit for a reason. It was a test as much as to prove his damn point. He wanted to see what I'd do, if I'd stick to my principles. And I can't say for sure that I wouldn't have..."

Bruce took a deep breath before continuing. "I can't lose him. I wasn't ready for Jason. But Dick... I don't... know how I'd..." Unsure of how to finish the statement, he shook his head as if to throw loose the new demons that were now firmly imbedded in his mind.

His friend smiled in that warm way he had and said, "And today, you don't need to know. Just remember that."

"Hey!" Dick's voice echoed down the lift shaft. "You two going to gab all night or you gonna come watch this movie? Damian vetoed This is Spinal Tap, but caved in on Princess Bride. We haven't tried out that new surround sound system you shelled out all that money for, Bruce. Alfie's making popcorn."

Bruce allowed himself a slight smile. A mere twist of his lips. "No, today I don't need to know."