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It's always Robin that brings him back. No matter how tired he was - done he was with the Batman, the kid had a tendency of pulling Dick back into the fray. Tim was frantic on the phone, yelling about kid slipping loose and roaming the streets of Gotham. It was curious why the duo would need help with something like this, something of a normal temper tantrum.
Despite the questions, the stress in Robin's voice had him on his Nightcycle and in Gotham before he could even think about it. And luckily he did, because apparently this tantrum included a fucking katana.
The blade was a bit too close to the kid's victim (one of Slade's players Dick had seen before, bad enough to get on his and the Bat's radar but never bad enough to get the charges to stick) for anyone's comfort, so he quickly put a stick in the boy's plan by pushing the blade away. The interference angered the child, apparently, as he silently turned to his new enemy. Blow after blow continued, Nightwing playing defense with barely any time to have a quick quip.
"These psychos just keep getting younger," he sighed, the boy seemed to not even notice. It was annoying, kind of upsetting, he was so focused on trying to chase the man. The kid had skill, he'd give him that, but he was angry, overeager. In the end, it was easy enough to get him restrained and off the ground. The little menace flailed in his restraints, but was secure enough that Nightwing felt safe to give the Bat a call.
"Unhand me! I am Batman's son!" The shout could have been a bluff, but taking a closer look at the kid it seemed unlikely. Maybe the issue wasn't just the boy's temper. "Let me down, scum!"
Nightwing tried to tune the boy out as he put a cloth over the kid's mouth and called out to Batman on his communicator. The older man was quick to pick up.
"Missing something?" Nightwing kept his voice light in spite of the situation.
"I don't have time for games, Nightwing," Batman grumbled, obviously preoccupied, probably with the same issue Dick was handling right now.
"Got a kid over here - he's saying he's your son," a silence on the other end of the line.
"I'll be right over, send me your coordinates."
Damian was a little bit of a terror. Immediately, he began exploring his surroundings with a skeptical eye, searching the walls as though he could see through the fortified mortar and into each security camera or sensor. The knowing glance didn't fit his small face, looked too old to be on such a young boy. Alfred was checking said boy over, ensuring he had no injuries as the adults spoke on the other side of the cave.
"A kid?" Dick sighed. "After all your lectures to me about protection, about being careful... with Talia of all people..."
I don't even remember this, Dick," Bruce shook his head. "Talia and I weren't even in contact at the time of his supposed conception. I was..." just starting to get closer to me, the first on of our on and off "otherwise very busy."
"We'll he's obviously yours," the DNA results weren't even in but it was obvious, the kid was a carbon copy. "Is there anything you might be missing? Any gaps at all?"
The horror and realization hitting Bruce's face broke Dick's heart. He felt the all too familiar pull, the urge to comfort, but he pushed it down.
"The cruise.." and Dick understood. He'd been annoyed with Bruce for leaving him behind, it had been a major crack in the Dynamic Duo's relationship. Bruce not trusting Robin on this mission, the way Bruce withdrew once he got home... it all made sense.
"I'm... sorry," he wanted to reach out to Bruce, to help him, but he could already see the man withdrawing. Brushing it off, shaking his head. There was no talking to him right now, he'd have to wait, and speak with Alfred about it.
As annoyed as he was about all ... this, they had other issues to deal with as well. Said issue was making his way to the suit displays.
"Don't touch that!" Dick's own voice surprised him, he didn't expect himself to be so attached to his old costume, but the sentiment itself wasn't surprising. The idea of anything happening to it shook him.
"Tt, this is what you wore to train?" Damian stared in disapproval, borderline disgust gracing his features.
"This is what I wore out on the field," Dick corrected, standing firm. He didn't care about what some kid's approval over what he wore at 13, hell, he didn't care about the scandalized press at the time he wore it. The suit was comfortable, familiar, gave him range and space to use it.
"All it's missing is a top hat," the boy chided. "A true showman's costume, nothing compared to my training. This is for show, not fighting."
"Your training may not be as complete as you believe," Dick snapped. He'd been beating up League goons for some time, since he was younger than Damian. "Don't forget who won that fight back there."
Damian gave a tut sound, continuing to stare at the case before him. His gaze seemed almost... longing.
"I know what you're thinking, you're not ready," Dick shook his head. "You're too volatile to be Robin. You need more control, more training."
"I've been training my entire life!" Damian was combative, but nothing Nightwing wasn't used to; you don't lead a team of teenage vigilantes without expecting a few blow ups.
"You drained with the Shadows, with their techniques," Dick tried to calm his voice. "Not in the Batman's ways."
"That's not right," the boy was growling. "Robin is my birthright! I am the true son!"
"Robin is my title," the man held firm. "Given to me by my mama. It isn't Bruce's to give away, nor is it yours to inherit. And I say you aren't ready."
The kid looked scandalized, furious, but he backed down. This likely wouldn't be the end of this discussion, but Dick was grateful for the pause, there were larger issues at hand.
One issue was apparently Tim, or at least protecting him. Damian had apparently given up on reasoning with the original Robin and was instead setting his sights on the current one - specifically eliminating the competition.
It was decided that Dick would stick around to see how the boy's schooling had been and, more importantly, to supervise. The manor went full psych; nothing sharp or rope shaped that isn't locked up, neither boy left alone and especially not together. Dick had gotten the job of babysitting Damian, since volatile children were more Dick's strong suit than Bruce - despite the growing amount of troubled youth the latter took to picking up. He wouldn't complain though, at least murder-ninja duty ensured he wouldn't see more of the kid's father than he had to.
It had been five years since it all, the betrayal, the failed wedding, and the duo barely spoke. Never spoke when not in regard to the mission or an emergency. Maybe once to agree Tim continue to train with Dick on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Honestly Dick hadn't had much to say to him since then, and apparently B hadn't either, considering Tim was the one who called him in crisis. It wasn't likely Dick would have even learned about all this without Robin.
The silence between the men was amicable enough, especially considering how things ended. They ate diner together with the boys, occasionally saw each other when Dick had to zeta back to Bludhaven for work. Tim was noticeably uncomfortable with the new distance, but Damian didn't know any better. This left the young boy oblivious to his father's newfound quiet.
"Are you still mad at Bruce?" Tim kept his voice quiet. He'd been wondering this long before the few weeks Dick had been staying at the manor again. Had asked this question so many times, echoing off rooftops of Bludhaven and through the training room. Though it had been a while since the last time Tim had asked, the answer hadn't changed.
"I'm not sure, Baby Bird," Tim bristled at the nickname, after turning sixteen he lost his affection for any nickname that made him sound younger. He was a grown up, not a baby, whatever. "I'm not sure I ever was angry. Sad, hurt, yes, but angry? It's... you'll understand when you're older."
He hoped that last sentence was a lie, that Timmy would never have to experience anything like this.
"What issue could you possibly have with Father?" Damian glanced up from his worksheet - a "tedious test" as Damian put it, to gauge his academic placement - to scowl.
"As I said, it's complicated," Dick shook his head. "And it was a long, long time ago. I'll tell you and Orphan when you're both older."
"I need not be treated like a child, Grayson," Damian's eyebrows pulled together. "You don't need to avoid discussion, I am a Shadow. I can handle it."
"You're ten, as long as you remain a child that is how you will be treated," Dick rolled his eyes. In the few weeks he's been here he's found Damian most responsive to emotional openness, but with a firm tone. "And I thought you wanted to be a Robin, not a Shadow."
That quieted the boy, who returned to his algebra. Tim took the moment to glance at his brother sadly, concerned.
"You don't have to eat with him, you know," Tim sighed. "We can take dinner to my room. I'd love to see you more."
"I'm not going to run away from him," Dick laughed. "And besides, we're hoping with enough time together, Damian will warm up to you more."
"Unlikely," the boys chimed in unison, catching themselves off guard.
"See? It's already working!"
The longer Dick stuck around, the more he found himself caring for Damian. The boy was truly just that - a child. And it was easier to understand his viewpoint when you saw the world through that lens. He was a kid, who is separated from his mom, who was given a big job too young, he just needs some support.
"You don't need to be at my side whilst I study, Grayson," Damian rolled his eyes. "I told you, I was provided top tier education. I won't need your help for something this simple."
"I know, for now," Dick sighed. Sometimes remembering didn't help the frustration. "But I would prefer to be here in the case that you do, okay? Your dad is busy right now and Alf is making lunch, if you have a question I'm all you've got."
Things had gotten easier, Dick could work more hours without fearing for his brother's life. Damian learned to say "thank you" at least half the time. He spent days studying with Dick and nights training with Bruce. Though Tim was initially fearful, Robin eventually began to warm up to the idea of training with Dick on his old schedule so that B could get more time with his kid. They even patrol Bludhaven together now. Things had truly begun to calm down. To fall into a routine.
For a while.
Because six months into this routine, Bruce Wayne was dead.