A/N: Batman and all associated comics are the property of DC comics. The events referenced herein come from "Batman and Robin Vol. 1 #11-12" and the "Return of the Joker" movie. Some rather excellent plot-centric dialogue was borrowed from the same comics.

Dick felt physically ill.

He had used electric shock on a child, and all the reasons that had made sense earlier seemed to crash down around him when confronted with the two angry, red marks on Damian's chest … the kid's chest for crying out loud.

The risk of Slade suffering ventricular fibrillation could have just as easily been Damian—out in the field, on a rooftop far away from the Cave's medical equipment—and the boy's death would have been on Dick's hands.

He had pressed the equivalent of a small, focused taser into his baby brother's chest . . . twice.

Dick stumbled away from the counter and leaned over a tasteful wastebasket to vomit. Something in his chest shifted under the strain, and after the initial rush, he could only dry heave a few times before Jason's at his side and hauling Dick carefully upright again.

"Grayson?" Damian was demanding from behind Alfred's firm hand. "What is wrong with him?"

"Guilt and broken ribs, I'd reckon," Jason tattled indiscriminately, manhandling Dick onto another cot.

"Why should Grayson feel guilty? I am fine."

"Uh, no, Bat-Baby, you're really not, because A) you had some pretty high voltage running through your heart, B) your nervous system has been hacked or compromised, whatever you wanna call it, and let's not forget C) your mother is Talia al Ghul." Jason turned Dick over to Alfred with smug satisfaction, and moved to lean against Damian's cot, mussing the ten year old's hair with a careful fondness. "Sorry, kiddo, but you're kind of doomed."

"Grayson is not at fault," Damian persisted, reaching for his tunic. Jason blocked the attempt, and reeled in the ninja-child for a quick hug. "Oh, for the love of—get off me, Todd!"

Dick snorted, felt the echo of it throughout his chest and tried to obey Alfred. That had never worked on Jason before, and really Damian should know better by now. He was submitting to Jason's half-embrace combination-headlock now with all the grace of a disgruntled cat, but had somehow wormed his way back into the Robin tunic. It was easier with the evidence hidden away.

Then Damian's eyes caught Dick's for a second, and fell hastily. Dick can feel his own heart clench in response. Alfred had to tell him three times to raise his left arm.

Now Jason was watching Dick with concern.

"It was just a macroshock," the Red Hood reminded him.

"Those can still be fatal," Batman shot back, scrubbing his free hand down his face. Alfred released him with a disapproving quirk tucked into the corner of his mouth.

"But it was not!" Robin shouted, crossing his arms over his chest protectively. "I am fine," he repeated sullenly, when both of his brothers turned to look at him.

"Get over here and give the demon a hug, Dick," Jason demanded. "You're not going to feel better until you do." Damian let out a startled squawk as he was plucked from the cot and held out in Dick's direction.

He hung there in Jason's grip, truly embodying the kitten analogy for a full minute before opening his arms with a long-suffering sigh. Dick waved off Alfred's concern for his ribs, and took Damian's weight without regret. Damian still hugged stiffly, like he wasn't sure how it was supposed to work or maybe he was being graded on how correctly he fulfilled the task, but Dick just squeezed, ignoring his ribs altogether.

Damian couldn't apparently. "I am sorry that I broke three of your ribs, Grayson."

"At least you couldn't control it," Dick grimaced into Damian's hair, and tightened his grip. Jason made a growling noise that caused Dick to drop the subject "Let's just call it even, and refuel the rocket. Your mother has some explaining to do."

"Agreed," and Damian pulled away, hiding under his hood and in the shadows of the taller Bats. "I can't believe she did this to me. I need to return to my mother immediately."

"Not alone," Jason and Dick chorused, proving that they can agree on one thing at least—even if that one thing was a precocious former child-assassin.

Damian was anxious about bringing them along. Any other time, and Damian would be at the front, leading them as boldly as his father once had.

Dick thought it was adorable even though thinking of Bruce still hurt. Thinking of Tim or his parents still hurt, so Dick didn't see why he should get over the loss of his foster-father any faster. Furthermore, if Dick wanted to take a special pride in the way Damian unconsciously emulated Bruce Wayne, he would.

Even if Damian was not quite up to his Batman impersonation tonight. Even if he stayed close to Dick's side and didn't protest when Jason fell into step beside them so that Robin was framed by the older vigilante.

The machines were easy to find.

Easy to destroy too.

Jason calmly picked up the protesting scientist and simply moved him out of the way. With great satisfaction, Dick put his tools to better use in frying the equipment until all that remained was smoke and sparks.

Turning, Dick caught the slack-jawed expression on the kid's face, and … yes, Jason saw it too.

Without a word, Dick took custody of the scientist and pressed Damian into his side as Jason sprayed gunfire across the computer screens. A bullet didn't have the same impact on the machinery as the electricity had, but it had a more memorable impact on the little boy's sense of worth.

Unfortunately, it also attracted Talia's attention.

The brief exchange was unsatisfactory, but Dick expected nothing less from Talia. They split up at Damian's request, but Jason followed the mother-son duo because Talia tolerated Jason in ways that she wouldn't Dick. That was fine. Dick had unfinished business with Slade. It shouldn't take long.

It didn't.

He found the others before Talia expected, and his first instinct on seeing that tiny form in the pod was to call in the Justice League. Dick didn't, just like he didn't haul Damian away from Talia (the second instinct that the new Batman couldn't indulge). Instead, Dick counted to ten and listened.

"… you may consider yourself an enemy of the House of al Ghul."

He had missed something big, judging by the angry set of Jason's shoulders. Something bigger than clones, betrayal, and disownment, because Jason looked ready to burn Talia's compound to the ground while Damian was as quietly unruffled as ever by his mother's dramatics.

"Very well … I hope I can be a worthy one, Mother."

It was such a brave and awe-inspiring comeback; Bruce would have been proud.

Jason, on the other hand, was not impressed. The Red Hood slapped his palms against his thighs audibly: "Okay, this is not happening."

Jason yanked off his helmet as he took a few steps forward and slung an arm around Damian's neck. The way that Jason put himself between Damian and Talia was probably the damaged subconscious at work, but it was effective. Talia took a step back. Damian moved forward, allowing himself to be reeled in to Jason's side properly.

"Bruce is gone, Talia. He isn't coming back," Jason reminded her. Truth. They had taken steps to safeguard their guardian's remains. "All that is left of the man you loved is the Batman title and Damian …" Jason paused, before adding with a weary nod in the direction of the complicated equipment: "… and that, I guess."

Dick approached, drawing the attention of the others despite the way that the tiny form held his. How something as innocent as an infant could appear so ominous …

Somewhere, Dick found the appropriate steel for his voice as he laid a hand on Damian's shoulder. "Damian isn't Bruce." That needed to be repeated as many times as it took to reach both mother and son. "Damian isn't Bruce, Talia, but I can guarantee that no matter how many times you clone him … no one will ever be like Bruce." Dick squeezed Damian's shoulder. "And they will never be Damian."

Because that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it?

Talia had lost her 'beloved' and her son in one fell swoop. Her chosen family-activity of worldwide domination had fallen through. An unworthy man wore the cowl of Batman and her son picked up the laughable garb of the same man's legacy. The heroes won.

Dick fought to keep his expression solemn and smile-free; Talia had never liked him and taunting the villainess would be petty.

His moral high ground didn't stop her from returning a vicious smile of her own. "And if that is perhaps the point, Richard?"

"Your loss," he returned sharply, taking a step forward.

"Damn straight," Jason agreed, hauling Damian off the floor and into his arms properly. "Now we can do the whole brother-against-brother thing, Talia. We can walk out that door with Damian, and leave you with the clone you've created. You raise an al Ghul, we'll raise a Wayne, and we'll see in a decade or two how that worked out for everybody involved." Jason shifted Damian's weight to one arm. "Or we can handle this like grown-ups …"

Grown-ups might be stretching it, but Dick let it slide.

"Really, Jason," Talia arched a delicate eyebrow. "I can't have both?"

"No," Jason growled, taking a step backwards with Damian as Dick started working out an exit plan.

Talia allowed them that space bemusedly, turning back to her project with a fond hand raised to the red glass. "Do not run, boys. It is undignified." She canted a softer look over her shoulder at the trio of heroes in her home. "Do I have your word, Mr. Grayson, that Damian will one day be Batman?"

"Yes."

That was the plan. This—all this—was temporary. Dick wanted it that way. Jason wanted it that way. If Damian still wished to be Batman upon reaching adulthood, then Dick would pass on the cowl with pride.

"Then I will see Damian become his father's match," Talia announced. It was a suspicious promise, darkened further by its follow-up. Talia stroked the glass gently as she murmured a softer: "And Benjamin shall be the Bat's equal. May they succeed in all the arenas where my Beloved failed …"