Author's Note: Last chapter, folks! I'll leave most of my comments for the author's end note but I'd love to hear yours!

Jason hadn't really expected to be out in the field the first night. Initially it had taken six months of training before he donned the original Robin costume. Tim, he'd heard, required a year at least. But even his father's paranoia - no matter how understandable given the circumstance - couldn't keep him benched for months, Jason reasoned. He was in great shape, his muscle memory being perfect, probably even better than before his death given that Talia had made sure he received plenty of training even if his conscious mind wasn't aware of it. He must have picked up quite a bit of new moves because during one of their sparring scions, Jason had managed a new disabling blow within minutes.

"I didn't teach you that," his father looked both surprised and suspicious.

Jason had just shrugged and helped him up from the sparring mat.

He hadn't expected to be benched for months. At worst, Jason figured a few weeks to prove his capabilities should have sufficed. Which was why on the evening he was sure he would finally get to follow Batman on patrol, the sight of his father at the door with a suitcase didn't please him.

"We're not patrolling tonight, are we?"

Bruce shook his head. "I'm needed in the Metropolis office for a few days. You're on Tim and Damian duty."

"The glamorous assignment," Jason snorted but didn't complain. "Is Metropolis code for visiting the blue boyscout or do you really need to be at the Wayne Enterprises office there?"

"The office. There have been some complaints about less than cordial interaction from LexCorp and I want to see for myself. Something tells me I'm going to have to have a chat with Luthor."

"Ah, have fun with that."

The few times Jason had had to observe his father in action in the corporate world, he'd been amazed how Bruce managed to appear completely clueless and still keep an enormous international company running smoothly. His competitors must have either thought he was incredibly lucky or had someone else running it for him, neither of which was true though Lucias Fox did a lot to help. He wondered what Luthor thought.

Damian came down the stairs at that moment holding on to the scruff of Ace's neck.

"I can't find his collar," the boy complained. "He had it yesterday, but now it's gone."

"It must have come loose when you were playing," Bruce said and looked at Jason. "Can you take them into the city and get a new one?"

"Yeah, sure." It wasn't like he had patrol to go on. "Go get Timmy, little D."

Damian turned to go, then paused and looked at their father, taking in his clothes and suitcase. "Are you leaving, too?"

"Just for a few days," Bruce promised. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you entertained," Jason promised jokingly, but he couldn't help but sympathies. Between Dick leaving, witnessing Tim deal with his father's death, and the ever-present thought of his mother's absence, he could understand why Damian wouldn't be thrilled with their father leaving even on something as simple and boring as a trip to a satellite office.

"Go get Tim," he repeated, and when Damian was well on his way back up stairs he turned to their father. "You know you can tell me if this is something else. Superman isn't as touchy about his territory as Batman is, so if it's a mission, Red Robin can suit up."

"It's just a business trip," Bruce assured him. "No need to be so suspicious."

"Ha! Do you know who raised me?"

"Point taken, but it's nothing. The best thing you can do for me is look after your brothers."

"Always do."

He had no doubt that his father meant both Damian and Tim, and it didn't phase him. None of them were blood brothers. Their familial relationships were a made up of common experiences - often tragedies - and in the case of the three oldest, wearing one version or another of the same red, yellow, and green costume. Though he would have never thought so six months ago, Tim was as much his brother as Dick or Damian, and he defied anyone who dared say differently.

Okay, so he was benched, but Jason honestly didn't mind too much. He spent the afternoon playing Zelda with Damian and the evening reviewing the new gadgets with Tim. Lacking any kind of utility belt, his cargo pants nonetheless came with enough pockets to more than make up for it. Tim kept talking about the use of various devices handing them to Jason as he explained each function. He already had a tiny inferred camera, fingerprint and sample scanners that would automatically upload to the cave's computer and his mask, vials of antidotes for anything the Joker, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy or a host of others could throw at him, and a small soldering wand and cutting torch.

"If you want," Tim held up the red domino mask, "press the edge by your right temple and everything you see and hear will be streamed live to the cave. It'll be a two-way feed actually."

"The better for you to backseat drive?" Jason raised a brown, then quickly sensing that Tim was about to take it the wrong way, amended. "It's a good setup, kid. There's probably a lot of new stuff in the city I don't know. It'll be good to have an extra pair of eyes out there."

Tim brightened at that. "I can feed you back sample analysis in real time, too."

"Of course you can," Jason smiled, and suddenly another conversation came to him. It was only a few weeks ago but felt like forever when he'd been on the road in the mid-west. Dick had been driving, and he was watching a show about two brothers fighting monsters all over the country. Dick had said something to him then, something he'd waved off as ill-fitting at the time but now he knew his brother had been absolutely right. He looked back at the newest person he was proud to call that.

"You're Sam," he declared triumphantly and without waiting to see the confused look on the younger teen's face went back to the tools on the table between them.

When Bruce arrived in Metropolis he didn't go to the office right away. He didn't even go to his penthouse. Instead he went to the park. Many large cities like Metropolis, New York, and Boston were designed with some kind of centrally located green area. Even Gotham, though older, had Robinson Park which Bruce remembered enjoying as a child but would have advised anyone against venturing there past sunset.

But that was Gotham.

The Centennial Park in Metropolis was virtually crime-free any hour of the day which was largely thanks to the enormous Superman statue at its center. At one point it had been the Kryptonian's tomb but now was just a tourist attraction. There was nothing particularly mystical about it, but criminals were as superstitious in Metropolis as they were in Gotham and few dared invade the park as long as the sentinel guarded it. He paused behind a bench near the end of a path from the statue.

"It is terribly gaudy," the sole occupier of the bench before him commented smoothly.

Bruce looked up at the statue of the man of steel. "I don't think he likes it much either. Just sort of tolerates it because it makes the public happy."

"Tell me they don't have one for the Batman in the Gotham Police Department head quarters."

"If they do, I don't know about it."

"And here I thought you knew everything."

He looked down at the object in his hand, the golden tag, and traced his thumb across the letters. Not the dog's name, but the maker's stamp engraved into the back of the soft gold. Such a signature was unique to a small privately owned shop in Metropolis that specialized on all kinds of custom jewelery and engravings. The action didn't go unnoticed.

"You cannot help it, can you?" A long dark chocolate lock of hair flipped as she turned and tilted her head slightly to look at him. "A gift for your sons, and still you must treat it as a case."

"In my defense," Bruce said, still to looking anywhere but straight ahead at the statue. "I'm more likely to investigate anything that has to do with them. And you did make it very easy, practically gift wrapped with exact coordinates."

"I believe I am insulted." She gave him a look that he easily remembered as less than pleased.

"I might believe that if I didn't know you as well as I do." He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and sat down on the bench by her though not too close. "Come on, you couldn't have seriously thought to bring something like this to my doorstep and not have me follow through."

"Sometimes an act of kindness is just that. Hardly a reason to be so suspicious."

For some reason that put him at ease. Bruce chuckled and leaned back. "You know that's exactly what Jason said. He thinks I have ulterior motives for being here."

"I have absolutely no doubt."

He raised a brow at that. "That I have ulterior motives or that Jason thinks I do?"

"Both. He is a very bright boy."

Bruce chuckled. "That boy is almost twenty."

"I fail to see your point."

Of course she did, because like any parent, Talia would forever see her sons as children no matter what age they were. He could sympathise with that and thought that perhaps now would not be the best time to tell her about Red Robin and that he would soon be on the streets of Gotham with her short swords. He changed the topic.

"What are you doing here, Talia?"

"I enjoy the fresh air."

"I meant in Metropolis."

"Metropolis is safe." It was one of the last things he expected to hear and questioningly looked in the direction of the statue, but she shook her head. "Your friend has nothing to do with it. Not for me."

There was a long pause, a silence not at all comfortable, while they sat together on the bench. Strangers didn't sit as far apart or with as much tension as they did. The space between them felt frigid. Seeing but not really watching people pass by, he felt like they had been sitting there for an eternity until she finally turned slightly and gave him a quizzical look.

"Why are you here, Bruce?"

There was something startling about that question, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the fact that she had called him by his given name. He'd always been either 'Batman' or 'Beloved' to her. Hearing 'Bruce' was somehow jarring. But he didn't have to think about her question. The truth was that he'd been thinking about it in one form or another since the letter came all those months ago, since he'd walked in Robinson Park with Jason and had been forced to think about a lot of the things he'd been avoiding.

"I'm here because," he closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, "because I'm angry. Eight years of Damian's life and at least a year and a half of Jason's…"

"I cannot give you back those years," she interrupted, not unapologetic. "Nor is any explanation I provide likely to justify my actions or assuage your anger."

"No." If anything, it was liable to make it worse.

"Then I repeat: why are you here? What is it you hope to gain?"

Author's End Note: That's all for The Guardian, everyone! Parts of this story (the idea to do Identity Crisis and parts of Cry Justice) came to me while I was writing The Changeling which is why I made a point to mention that Jack Drake was still alive. Other parts, like the road trip, came to me when I got into Supernatural. Not gonna lie, I caught up on seven and a half seasons within a few months, and it fit with what I wanted to write for this fic. The first was all about Jason and Damian and their homecoming, the second is about Jason and Dick and really all their collective brotherhood, Tim included. The third... well, you'll see ;) I hope you all enjoyed this. See you next time!