Everyone is born with a barcode. This barcode changes frequently throughout a person's life. The first number changed whenever someone moved. The second number changed whenever moved up a year in school, it was zero when you didn't go to any school. All the other numbers were related to personality, likes, dislikes, and hobbies. Before the set of numbers was a space. That space was usually empty, unless you had a red star. The only people who had red stars were those how had tried to kill themselves.

Space 70788 space 92509

That was Richard Grayson's barcode number. His number changed once or twice a year at this point and that was okay. It was normal for people at his age to have their numbers change less often, especially ones without families. Well, he had a family, but he wasn't raising a family. There was one thing however that concerned him about his family.

In the Wayne household, one would think their barcodes were semipublic knowledge or at the very least they all knew each other's. It wasn't like that. Everyone knew Bruce's. A good handful of people knew Dick's. But the other three brothers, no one but they knew their numbers. They didn't let anyone scan their barcodes either.

Dick wanted to get to the bottom of why.

Star 70348 space 73618

To be fair, it wasn't Jason's fault that he had a star. Anyone dumped into the Lazarus pit after the barcodes came into existence had a star. Because Jason, like them, had died and the come back to life. The barcode apparently didn't know that that wasn't attempted suicide. It frustrated Jason a lot. He didn't want people asking questions so he kept his barcode hidden. No one would see the star that shouldn't have even been there.

It was morning and still dark when Jason slipped into his apartment. He flipped on a light and pulled off his helmet. With a sigh he tossed it to the side before taking off his gloves and chucking them to the side as well. He looked at the barcode that rested on the inside of his left wrist. He rubbed the number, hoping the star would disappear. He thought about trying to cut off the number. It wasn't the first time either. There were even scars from when he had started then stopped, changing his mind.

Jason froze when he heard someone land lightly behind him.

"Jay…"

Jason recognized that voice as Dick. Of course. He pulled his jacket sleeve over his left wrist and turned around, "Hey."

Dick was wearing his Nightwing uniform. He grabbed Jason's hand before Jason realized what he was doing. Pushing the jacket sleeve back he brushed a hand against the barcode he hadn't seen since Jason had died. He couldn't look away from the star.

"You know our job is dangerous. Sooner or later we are all bound to get stars. Whatever connects us to these barcodes isn't smart enough," Jason said.

"When?" Dick asked, not letting go.

Jason sighed, "It was there when I was brought back to the pit."

Dick hugged Jason, "I'm so sorry," He whispered. No wonder Jason was hiding his barcode. He was stuck with something that had a meaning that technically didn't pertain to him.

Jason pushed Dick away after a moment, "You should go."

Dick nodded reluctantly and left.

If that was why Jason hid his barcode could that be why Tim and Damian hid theirs? Or was there something more to them he didn't know yet.

Star 79615 space 17867

Tim hadn't had the best of childhoods. Sure his parents had money but they neglected him. So when the bullying started no one was there to stop him from making that first cut.

The first time he cut himself was when he was 11. Who would ever expect a little kid to cut himself out of anger? It had been a stormy night and school had been particularly bad. His parents weren't home, the staff wasn't paying attention, all he did was take a pair of scissors and cut into his skin.

He didn't stop. Two years later when he became Robin he stopped for a few months because he thought things would get better. But they didn't. At least not the way he thought they would. So he went right back to cutting. The pain weighing down on him was getting unbearable.

He was 16, right before Damian has joined the family, that he cut his wrists.

It was on patrol. He was so done with everything that he chose to do it then. No one would realize he had killed himself. They would all think he had been jumped by someone and killed. So he took a knife and made two deep cuts on his wrists. One running through the middle of his barcode and the other running through the same spot on the other wrist. He lay in an alley, accepting his fate.

He woke up in a white hospital room, mask still on and bandages wrapped around his wrists. Tears stung his eyes as realization hit him. He was still alive. The pain came rushing back all at once as tears stained his cheeks. He was sobbing.

Three years later now, Tim stared at his number. It hadn't changed much since that night. Just his year of school. Of course, his family didn't know he had a star. He had kept it hidden and the doctors hadn't asked for it since he had been in costume.

He picked up the knife that rested, hidden, under his pillow. In one quick slash blood blossomed from a fresh cut.

There was a knock at his door.

Tim froze. He didn't have time to clean up and hide the fresh wound.

"D-don't come in!" Tim stammered.

"Timmy? Are you okay?" It was Dick.

"Y-yeah," Tim stumbled, trying to find something to cover his arm.

"I'm coming in," Dick said, "You better be decent," He came in then froze when he saw Tim standing there, clutching his arm with blood slipping past his fingers and onto the floor, staining the carpet.

Dick ran over to Tim, "Tim!" He grabbed his arm, "Are you okay?"

Tim looked away as Dick dragged him to the nearest bathroom then wrapped his cut. Dick lifted him up and sat him on the bathroom counter.

"What happened Timmy?" Dick asked.

Tim took a deep breath then kind of got upset, "I cut myself, okay! Just leave me alone! I don't need you or anyone else!" He snapped.

Dick's eyes widened. He was quiet as Tim took deep breaths. After a few moments Dick slowly took Tim's left hand and looked at his wrist.

A pang of quilt hit him with force. There was a star.

"Timmy… h-how… how long…" Dick whispered.

"I started cutting when I was 11," Tim said emotionlessly, "The star showed up three years ago."

"That night…" Dick swallowed.

Tim nodded.

Dick hugged his brother close, "It's going to be okay. I'll help you. We'll all help you."

And then the tears fell

Star 70936 space 94818

Damian had had a rough childhood. He had been raised to be an assassin, forced to be as mature as an adult even at a very young age. So it was no surprise he had tried to hang himself while part of the League of Assassins. But it hadn't been quick. There was no snap and it was over. It had been excruciating pain as he choked. He had cut the rope to escape the pain. That was the only time he cried while part of the League. No one knew, no one saw.

It hurt so much to see that star every day, even now that he was part of the batfamily. He hid the star away from his so called family. Finally it got too much for him to see that star.

He grabbed a knife and started cutting off the skin in thin layers until the barcode and star were gone. But he cut too deep. He was bleeding out. Shoot.

"Damian? We're going out for ice cream, do you want to come? We could stop at the pet store and look at cats," Dick knocked on Damian's door. He was with Jason and Tim. He had convinced the two that they needed to go out and spend time together.

The knife fell to the floor with a soft thud. Damian leaned against his desk.

"Doubt he wants to go," Jason mumbled.

"Don't be so negative," Dick said, knocking again, "Come on Dami!"

The three brothers jumped slightly when there was a crash.

Jason moved Dick aside and rammed his shoulder against the locked door, forcing it open.

Dick gasped when he saw Damian lying on the floor, bleeding. Damian had knocked off some of the stuff on his desk when he had collapsed.

Tim spotted the remnants from Damian's attack on his barcode, "He cut off his barcode…"

"I don't care! We have to get him to the hospital," Dick said picking up Damian's limp body.

"Already on it," Jason stepped aside to talk to the emergency paramedics, who he'd already called with 911.

Dick carefully carried Damian downstairs.

It wasn't long before the ambulance came then took Damian away.

The talk with Bruce was painful.

After being unconscious for three days Damian finally woke up. Dick took hold of his hand and Tim and Jason were immediately by his bedside. Bruce hung back and Alfred stood nearby.

"What happened?" Damian mumbled. his mind was foggy.

Dick swallowed then Tim answered for him, "You cut off your barcode. We found you bleeding to death," He said quietly.

Damian broke down into tears, "I didn't mean to cut too deep," He cried, "I just wanted it gone. The stupid barcode and that stupid star."

"When did you get a star?" Tim asked, frowning slightly.

"I was young… still in the League… I tried hanging myself," Damian sniffled.

Dick and Jason looked down, they didn't know how to relate to that. Tim knew though.

"It's going to be okay Dami," Tim said.

Jason sighed, "We have to tell him."

"No now," Tim glared.

"Jay's right. Better now than never," Dick said.

Damian was confused.

Tim sighed and took Damian's left hand, unwrapping the bandages. The flesh and skin that had been removed was still healing, it would probably scar badly. But there was one thing that was bright and clear. A red star.

"I'm so sorry Damian," Tim whispered.

Damian sobbed harder. He had tried so hard to get rid of it. Now it was going to haunt him forever.

Jason sighed and rolled up his shirt sleeve, showing that he had a red star as well. Tim did the same. Dick stepped back

"You're not alone Damian," Tim said.

Damian nodded a bit. These people were stuck with the sme haunting star he was. So they had each other. And that was what was most important.