Chapter Text
"Alright, we'll let you guys get settled in. If you need anything, Connor and me are staying in town for the night, so just call, and we'll be here."
Dick keeps his face blank, nodding at Roy's words, as Roy and Connor head towards the front door. It's… it'll be fine.
It's been two days since Damian could get out of bed, even if it's only in a wheel chair. Dick still has at least four weeks in the casts on his arms, and six in the soft leg cast encompassing his right leg from foot to knee.
Meaning if something happens… if something comes… Damian won't be able to fight, and Dick won't be able to fight well. Jason and Tim will be defenseless, and -
"Dick."
Dick pulls himself from his spiraling thoughts, forcing himself to stand up a bit straighter as he looks at Connor.
"You're gonna be fine, man," Connor says quietly. "Roy and I are gonna spend a few days hanging around town in case you guys need anything, but you guys are gonna be fine. You're far enough out, nobody's gonna bother you, except maybe a bear. And there's a rifle over the door for that. And if you need us, we're only a phone call away."
Dick forces himself to nod. A moment later, he feels Jason's hand reaching out to grab his own -lightly, since most of Dick's fingers on his right hand are still healing -and the warm weight of his brother pressing against his side.
"Thanks. For everything," Jason says solemnly. "Tim made sure to put all your numbers into our phones in case we need to call."
"Good," Roy says firmly, smiling at them. "You guys are all set then. We're gonna get outta here, and let you guys finish settling in. Remember, there's extra blankets and pillows in the closet, and -"
"Roy," Connor interrupts. "You told 'em. Diana left 'em a list. C'mon, let's get outta here before I end up fighting a bear in the woods in the dark for you."
And Roy -who just got out of the wheelchair himself a few days ago -rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You'd totally kick a bear's ass for me," he says, as he heads out the front door.
"Would I? Sure. Would I ever let you hear the end of it? No."
Roy's retort is lost, as Connor swings the door shut behind them, and…
And that's it. They're alone. Dick is… alone with his brothers, in their new house in the woods next to a lake, and… he's entirely responsible for them. For providing for them. For keeping them safe.
He sucks in a deep breath, and then goes over, twisting the locks for the two padlocks, sliding the chainbolt in place, and turning the actual lock on the doorknob. It won't keep out anyone with training, but it will at least give Dick time to react if they try. It…
No. He's not going to panic about it. He forces himself to turn away from the door, towards Jason. "Damian and Tim still getting settled?"
Jason nods. "Yeah. Tim's working on getting his computer set up, and Damian's laying down watching him."
"Okay. Alright, we can…" Dick struggles to come up with something. What are they supposed to do? They don't have any purpose. No missions, no trying to keep quiet so Batman doesn't come down to see what they're doing. No targets, no trying to be good so nobody is punished.
He forces himself to take another breath, and look down at Jason, still pressed lightly against his side. "Did you… did you wanna go in with Tim and Damian?" he asks, a little unsurely, not even sure why he's feeling so unsettled about asking.
Jason just shakes his head though, and Dick isn't sure if that makes the feeling in his chest better or worse.
"No, I uh… I was thinkin' that maybe… If you wanted to hang out in the kitchen…" Jason hesitates, then takes a deep breath. "I thought… Wonder Girl gave me her recipe for her Themiscyran soup? And I know we just had dinner a few hours ago, but I thought, she said it keeps real well in the… In the fridge for almost a week, and -"
"Yes," Dick manages to force out. "Of course. If that's… what you want to do, then yes."
He doesn't want to be in the kitchen. And he knows enough about cooking to know that Jason will need to get in the fridge. Probably multiple times. Just thinking about it makes Dick fight down a twitch.
But Roy and Wonder Woman had both talked to him about this. About letting his brothers explore, and learn to be normal again, that Dick couldn't keep trying to enforce Batman's rules to keep them safe.
Batman's gone. He doesn't have to protect his brothers by keeping them from things. Just because the idea of them getting in the fridge makes Dick's skin crawl doesn't mean he can tell Jason no.
And he's not going to leave Jason alone in the kitchen either; Jason may want to try this, but Dick remembers the first, and only time, Jason got caught stealing food. It's been almost three months since they escaped, and Jason still won't eat anything that somebody doesn't hand to him.
So Dick isn't entirely sure how Jason's gonna handle it, trying to make his own food. But this is -presumably -part of the 'exploring' thing that Dick's supposed to let them try, so he's going to let Jason do it.
Not alone though. Because Roy and Wonder Woman may think this is a good idea, and Dick won't argue with them, not after everything they've done, but Dick knows exactly what's going to happen when Jason tries to get in the fridge.
And Dick will be there for him.
That probably shouldn't be as warm a thought as it is, he knows that, even as he follows Jason into the kitchen. It's not that he wants Jason to panic, or go away in his head, but the fact that if he does, now Dick can bring him out of it. Can carry him into their room, and hold him until he comes back. Dick can help now, without needing to earn it from Batman.
So it'll be… not 'fine', but 'okay'. Dick will make sure it's okay at least. And maybe… maybe Jason will surprise him; he's been getting more… confident? Dick isn't sure that's the right word, but Jason has been getting less afraid at least.
Still not willing to go outside yet; he'd spent most of the car ride to the house curled up under a blanket in the backseat. But Dick can… he'll help Jason work on that. Just like he'll help him with the fridge.
"Okay, so you can just…" Jason waves his hands vaguely at the direction of the little dining room table. "Sit? If you want? You don't have to, I can probably… No, I can do this by myself. If you want to… I don't know, check on Tim or Dami, or… or go for a walk, or watch TV or whatever. You don't -"
"I'm fine, Jay," Dick says, sitting down at the table. Roy and Connor had brought food for dinner, and then Roy had done the dishes, so the kitchen is still almost sparkling and brand new when Jason steps in.
Dick still hates it though. Still gets a sharp pang of something when he sees Jason moving over to stand in front of the counters.
"Okay. Okay, so, she… she wrote the recipe down for me," Jason says, his voice quiet, as he stares around the kitchen. "And she said she had Arsenal pick up… Pick up everything for it when he got food. For the… for the fridge."
"Do you want me to… to get the stuff?" Dick forces himself to ask. Because he can… The rules are different now -there aren't any -and Dick is supposed to let his brothers… explore, but Dick can… he can try and help at least. Probably.
Maybe.
No. No, he can. He definitely can, it's his responsibility to keep his brothers safe, and he can… He can do this.
He forces himself to his feet, and moves over next to Jason, who's staring at the fridge.
"I can… you can tell me what to get, and I can get it," Dick offers.
Jason startles a bit. "I… No, that's okay, you don't… I can do this. I can… I want to learn to cook."
"Right, but… But I can help?" Dick says, a bit unsurely. Something about Jason's voice is bothering him, and not just the underlying fear of the fridge. "What's… just tell me what I can do?"
But Jason just… ducks his head. Not before Dick can see a tear in the corner of his eye though.
"I… Um…" He doesn't know what to say. Instead, he just reaches out, and yanks Jason into a hug as best he can, trying to pull him out of the kitchen, away from the fridge and the cupboards and the food. "It's… it's okay. It's okay, we can… We don't have to do this. We don't… It's… I can take care of this. Tomorrow. For breakfast."
Jason shakes a bit, as his arms wrap around Dick's back, head pressed against Dick's chest. "No," he manages to get out. "No, I… You've got… And you're… And I can't… I need to… But I… I can't," he says, his voice breaking. "M'sorry, Dick, I…"
Dick ignores the pain in his arms as he grips tighter around Jason, pulling them away from kitchen, and into the attached living room. His ribs -mostly healed, and nowhere near as bad as Damian's -protest a little as he sits down on the couch, pulling Jason down with him.
"It's okay, Jay," he says, not even entirely sure what Jason's trying to say, or why he's so upset. But whatever it is, it's… Dick will handle it. "It's not a big deal. I can make food, okay? I… Roy gave me some books on cooking, and I can… You don't have to deal with it, okay? I got it."
For some reason, that just makes Jason cry harder. And Dick doesn't know what to do.
So he just holds on as tightly as he dares, squeezing Jason against his side. When the tears don't die down, Dick maneuvers his arm around, ignoring the twisting and tugging from his shoulder blade, until he can grab the blanket from the back of the couch.
He wraps it around Jason as best he can; it's the same as the ones Roy gave them their first night in the med bay at the tower, bright green and soft and fuzzy, and Jason burrows closer to Dick. His shoulder is pressing into Dick's ribs, and Dick's arms aren't happy about the angle Dick's got them in to have them both wrapped around Jason, but Dick ignores all of it.
"It'll be okay, Jay," he whispers, lowering his head down until it's almost touching Jason's. "It'll be okay. It'll all be okay, I'll take care of it."
Damian's head snaps up at the sounds from the living room. But before he can do more than that, Tim is over by the bed, keeping him from trying to get up.
"It's fine," Tim says as firmly as he can. "Dick's got it. It's just… Jason's upset, but if Dick was… if they're in trouble, Dick would… He'd let us know."
And Tim can see the indecision on Damian's face, how much he wants to go out and make sure everything's okay, warring with the doctors' instructions -and warnings -that he had to take it easy, or risk most serious, possibly even permanent damage.
"It's… perhaps you should go check on them," Damian says finally. "Just… just to be sure. Richard is still injured, and if Jason dissociates, Richard shouldn't be picking him up with his arms damaged."
"And you'll stay here and not move if I do, right?" Tim asks, still trying to sound firm. He knows he doesn't, he'll probably never manage it, but this is really the first time he's been responsible for Damian, instead of the other way around.
"It's not like I can go anywhere, or that I could do anything if I did," Damian grumbles, almost petulantly. "But if Jason needs assistance, Richard may… need you."
It comes out about as unhappy as Damian looks, and Tim only just manages to keep in his sigh. "I've got it; just… Here, let me put on some cartoons and -"
"Timothy. Please… go make sure Richard isn't straining himself," Damian cuts him off. "I… Please."
Tim carefully sets the remote to the TV -because there's TVs in every bedroom, not just the living room -back on the bed. "Alright. I'll be right back," he says quietly, before forcing himself out into the hallway.
And it's not that Tim doesn't want to make sure Dick and Jason are okay; obviously he does. But he also doesn't trust Damian to not try and get up if he needs something, or thinks he's needed.
Luckily, the hallway isn't that long, and it takes Tim less than twenty seconds to get from his and Damian's room out into the living room. He moves as quietly as he can, but Dick's head snaps up as soon as he steps foot into the living room.
"You guys okay?" Tim asks softly, keeping his tone low. It looks like Jason's sleeping, but if he's not…
"Yeah, Tim; we're fine," Dick says just as quietly. "You need something?"
Dick sounds almost like he wants Tim to need something, like he needs that distraction.
Unfortunately, Tim… really doesn't. And he doesn't want to stay away from Damian too long, because despite how much pain he's in, despite all the doctors' warnings, Damian will eventually try and get up to come out and check and see what's going on.
"No, I just wanted to make sure you guys were good," Tim says, shaking his head a bit. "We're just settling in. If you need help -"
"We're… good."
By the tone of Dick's voice, either Dick or Jason isn't good at the moment. But they're not in active pain, and they have each other at least; Tim wants to help but he needs to get back to Damian and then…
He stops halfway into his turn into the bedroom, and looks at Dick. "I… if you want, you guys can… We're just watching TV, if you guys wanna come in?" Damian really shouldn't be moving so soon after getting settled, or he'd offer to bring Damian out. "If you want to; if you guys are good out here…" He lets it trail off.
Dick hesitates for a second, before shaking his head, and wrapping his arms tighter around Jason. "No, I think we're good. Thanks."
And Tim should probably say something about that; Dick's arms really shouldn't be at that angle, shouldn't be bent and contorted like that, not a month out of the surgery to fix all the old and new damage, but…
He can deal with it after he gets Damian settled. He'll come out, and get Jason into bed if that's what they need, or at least get Dick readjusted into something more comfortable.
So he just nods, ducking his head down as he scurries back towards his and Damian's room. He can only deal with so many things at one time, and right now, Damian has priority.
"They're fine," he says, sliding back inside the bedroom. "Jason's sleeping."
Damian frowns up at Tim, eyes narrowed. "Sleeping."
"Dick's got it, Dami," Tim says, trying again to sound firm. "Or… well, they've got each other. I asked, and Dick said he had it handled. I even said they could come in here and watch TV with us if they wanted to, and Dick said it was fine, they were good out there."
"Richard shouldn't 'have' anything," Damian says, his tone somewhere between dismissive and tired. "He can't stress his injuries, or he'll -"
"He knows, Damian," Tim interrupts. "He knows he has to take it easy, just like you do."
Damian's face shows what he thinks of that, and… that's sort of fair. Damian and Dick are still readjusting to the fact that they don't have to work through their injuries, don't have to force themselves to walk on broken legs, to climb with broken ribs, to fight with broken arms.
'Resting' and 'recovering' are words right up there with 'flying' and 'safe'; words that have a theoretical meaning, but no practical one.
He manages to keep from sighing, to keep from showing how tired he feels. Because Damian is trying, but usually the only time they got to lay down for any extended time -outside of sleeping -was when they were too hurt to stand.
And Batman had very good incentives for getting them to try and stand.
So it's normal. Or normal for Dick and Damian anyway. And it's up to Jason and Tim to make sure they stop doing that, up to Jason and Tim to make sure they learn it's okay to be hurt.
Or up to Tim, anyway. Out of all of them, Tim's adjusting the best, and that's because he's hurt the least, physically and mentally. So while Jason will definitely try to help, it's a crapshoot how much help he'll actually be.
Because they've been in the house six hours, Arsenal and Superboy have been gone for maybe forty minutes, and Jason's already having a breakdown on the couch. Which… Tim doesn't blame him. Not at all. He'd probably be having breakdowns too, even worse, if he'd been in Jason's shoes, for six years.
But it also means that Tim is going to have to keep an eye on Dick and Jason, alongside Damian, instead of Jason looking after Dick, and Tim looking after Damian. Which… Tim can do that. He will do that. It's the least he owes his brothers, all of them, and he doesn't mind. But right now… Damian has priority. He has to have priority.
If Damian tries moving too much, or if he overstresses himself, there's a serious risk of him permanently injuring himself, or even dying. His spinal injury, his punctured or ruptured organs, half the ribs on one side of his ribs being free-floating because of the breaks on both sides… Tim wouldn't know something was wrong until it was too late.
If Damian tries moving too much, or overstresses himself, there's a chance of rupturing his still-recovering organs, or of causing permanent injury to his spine before it has a chance to heal all the way, or of his flail chest on the right side of his ribs, which could apparently just kill him outright without Tim knowing something was wrong until too late.
And Dick needs help too; his shoulder is finally fixed, finally right, not lumpy from where Batman shattered it before Tim even showed up. But if Dick pushes too hard, and messes up his shoulder again… it won't kill him. It'll suck, and Tim's gonna try to make sure that doesn't happen, but Tim can't do it all. He just… he can't.
"What're you thinking about, Timothy?"
Three years of living with Batman have him plastering a smile on his face as he looks over at Damian. "Nothing; just thinking about things we're gonna have to do since… since we're gonna be here a while," he says, careful not to put too much casualness in his voice, to keep from sounding as fake as it is. "Arsenal and Superboy got most stuff, but… there might be some things that'll make things easier on Dick and Jason."
He pointedly, and with great effort doesn't say 'and you'. Because Damian will be more upset and uncomfortable than he already is if he thinks anybody is exerting even more effort on him, on giving him 'cheats' to make things easier.
"If you think of something," Damian says slowly, staring down at the blanket wrapped loosely around him from toes to his lap. "You need to tell me. I… I probably won't recognize… My upbringing, even prior to Father, was… probably not… conducive to a… healthy environment for healing. And they both…"
His voice trails off, which is fair; that's more emotion than Damian is comfortable with, and Tim understands anyway.
Dick and Jason are… Well. Tim refuses to say damaged beyond repair, because they're not. But they are the worst prepared to deal with… well, everything, out of the four of them.
Damian and Tim aren't good. Tim's not stupid enough to think that. But Tim was with Batman for half the time that Jason was, and less than half of what Dick was.
Dick was with Batman since he was eight. Jason was with him since he was nine. And while Tim and Damian might have been a similar age when they were taken, they were there for so much less time.
So it's up to them to help Dick and Jason learn how to adjust to being free, to being able to make choices, and do simple things like eat without permission, or… or go places to get things for the house.
Tim decidedly… pointedly… doesn't let himself think about the fact that he is vastly under prepared to help Dick and Jason learn this, and not because of trauma or whatever Wonder Woman and Arsenal want to call it.
But because while Tim's childhood pre-Batman obviously wasn't as brutal as Damian's, it wasn't anymore 'normal' or 'traditional' than his. Tim has never gone shopping for his own things; his parents simply gave someone a list, and the things just… sort of appeared. Tim obviously understands the concepts of grocery stores, he's not an idiot, but he's never been to one.
He's the best prepared out of all his brothers to deal with a 'normal' life, but he's not really prepared for it either. He's just the… the least unprepared. Which isn't going to help him, not really.
"Timothy."
Tim jerks his head up, looking over at Damian, which is when he realizes that his breathing is… not great. He's breathing too fast for just sitting around in a bedroom, for just standing there, for just thinking about things like grocery shopping.
But he can't make himself stop. Can't stop the way his fingers are tapping against his thigh, the way his palms are sweaty, the way his breathing just keeps getting faster and faster.
Because he's the responsible one. He has to take care of his brothers, because… well, there's nobody else who will understand them, and help take care of them. And he doesn't know how to do that.
"Timothy."
Damian's voice is harsher, and Tim forces himself to look Damian in the eye. Which is when Tim realizes that it looks like Damian's about to try and stand up, and words can't even begin to describe how bad that would end, so Tim needs to pull himself together, needs to stop falling apart. Because Damian's going to hurt himself -possibly kill himself -trying to get Tim to remember how to breathe, and not panic like a baby.
Tim opens his mouth to say he's fine. What comes out is more a garbled, breathless mess of 'mmffnnhuh', and Damian obviously isn't convinced.
"I need you to breathe, habibi," Damian says, and his voice has gone from harsh back to just 'firm', and he's staring at Tim with his Robin face on. "Take a deep breath, Timothy."
Easier said than done, since Tim's lungs are rebelling, and refusing to do the one damn job they have. He tries to center his brain, to find that place where he can ignore what his body is going through, where he can think through things without dealing with what's happening, without tipping into that space.
He manages to suck in a shaky, but slower breath. Then another. His heart rate slows down, and he manages a breath that isn't painful.
"Good, Timothy. Come here," Damian says, and although there's a pause between his sentences, a pause that he doesn't know how to interpret, Tim will do -will be -whatever Damian needs right now.
His feet move almost on autopilot, which is good, because they feel like pudding. But he manages to sit on the edge of the bed, or at least, to not fall onto the edge of the bed. He won't risk jostling Damian, won't risk hurting him, but he definitely can't risk Damian trying to move towards him.
Tim doesn't jolt at the feeling of a hand on his arm, but it's a near thing. Which is a sign that he needs to pull himself together, because Batman trained him out of that in the first six months Tim was there, and there's no reason for it now. It's just Damian. There's no one else in the room besides Tim and Damian, not even Dick and Jason, and it's… he's fine. It's -
"Breathe, Timothy." Damian's hand on Tim's arm tightens, just a little, not enough to bruise, but enough for Tim to feel the rough callouses on Damian's fingers.
"I'm fine," Tim forces out through an equally forced, but hopefully more convincing smile. He takes another breathe -and it's coming easier, with Damian's hand on his arm -and tries again. "Do you need anything?"
When he looks up from his lap, Damian is frowning at him. "No, I'm fine, Timothy. It's…" He's still frowning, still almost twitching on the bed in frustration. "This is not on you alone, Timothy. We'll… Another month and a half, the doctors said, but you and I both know I heal quickly; realistically, another week or two, and I'll be able to help you with Richard and Jason. And I don't want you… I don't want you upsetting yourself while I…
"I won't be in this bed much longer. And then I'll take care of it. We'll take care of it," Damian corrects himself. "But I just… I know you don't want me to move too much -"
"At all," Tim corrects, almost mindlessly, because this is a conversation that Dick, Arsenal, Wonder Woman, Superboy, and the doctors have all had with Damian already.
"-but I can't sit here if you're hurting yourself trying to take care of all of us," Damian continues on, ignoring Tim's interruption. "If you are upsetting yourself, Timothy, if you work yourself into a panic…"
He doesn't say anything else, but Tim knows what Damian is leaving unsaid: that if Damian feels like Tim needs him, no amount of casts, sutures, stitches, incision sites, or pain will keep Damian in that bed.
With that realization, Tim feels the last bit of his panic sliding behind the wall where Tim keeps all the… unpleasant things in his life. Damian needs him to be strong, so Tim will be strong. Damian needs Tim to hold it together, so Tim will hold it together.
Or, more accurately, he'll fake it well enough that Damian won't know.
Because Tim has the internet now; unlimited, unfettered access to everything, no Batman to watch over his shoulder, or run tracking programs, monitoring what he's doing.
And there are videos for everything. Tim can learn to shop, learn to do laundry, learn to… to… to cook. Jason had said -while Dick and Damian were both still unconscious -that he'd learn how to cook, while Tim learned how to clean, so that Dick and Damian could just focus on getting better.
But Jason… Clearly he's not doing much better than Dick is with the whole freedom and choices and a house and… and whatever else they've got to figure out. So Tim can just… there are videos. On the internet. There has to be, there's videos for everything, for how to make bombs, or lockpick things, so there has to be other videos, for simpler things.
Tim can figure this out. He can handle this. All he has to do is remember that, out of all of his brothers, he's got the best chance of being capable of handling this, and just… hold it together.
He looks up at Damian again, and this time the smile, while just as forced, feels natural, the trained smile he learned for Batman.
"It'll be fine, Dami," he says, patting Damian's arm carefully. "We'll get it all figured out."