The Robin Declaration - waterunderthebridge12 (2024)

Like most crazy ideas, it started with a visit from Riko Sheridan.

Not exactly a visit. Duke was punching a bad guy in the face when Riko appeared out of nowhere, knocking the thief down with a kick to the chest. She was wearing her school uniform, a Batgirl key-chain hanging from her backpack zipper.

"Hello, citizen," Duke said. "Feel free to evacuate the area."

Riko flung her arms around him. "Don't try to be funny, Signal. You're bad at it."

"Should you be hugging a vigilante in broad daylight?"

"Are you gonna hug back?"

Duke wrapped his arms around her. "It's good to see you, Riko. Sorry I haven't been in touch."

"I get it, you're busy." She grabbed him by the shoulders. "How is it? Working with the Bat?"

"It's mostly decoding an elaborate series of grunts, plus the occasional eye twitch. And making sure he's had his morning coffee."

"Not Batman," she said, rolling her eyes. "Batgirl. She's the coolest, isn't she?"

"She's probably watching us right now," he said, pointing to a camera in front of the nearby bodega.

Riko's eyes lit up. "So. Cool." She whipped out a pad and pencil. "Do you happen to know her favourite colour? Or what her coffee order is?"

"Is this a school thing?" Oh, crap, he'd forgotten to do Mr. Sheen's homework. Jason would never let him live it down. Was there time to swing by Crime Alley tonight and get help?

"Nope. It's for my fanfiction."

Duke's thoughts screeched to a halt. "Fan... fiction?"

Riko flushed. "It's a legitimate hobby, you know. Many real authors started from fanfiction. It's a great launching pad for writing, and the community is—"

"Hold up, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I just don't know what it is."

"You don't know fanfiction?" Riko grasped his arm and dragged him to the closest bench, in front of a small café. The customers barely paid them any attention. Ah, Gotham. Never change.

Riko pulled out her phone and opened Safari. Duke squinted at the website, reading the red lettering across the top: Archive of Our Own.

"Fanfics are stories based on things that already exist," she said. "Look, there's Harry Potter, Percy Jackson , even Teletubbies —people will write fanfics about anything. And look at this." She clicked on a tab that said Celebrities & Real People, then scrolled until she hit the letter B. Duke stared. The words Batman & Allies (Gotham City) stared back.

"What am I looking at?"

"Fanfics," Riko said. "About you guys."

1-20 of 1,653 Works. 1,653? Duke snatched the phone and started scrolling.

"What the hell," he said. "This is—who is writing this stuff? Why does this one say crack? Do people do crack while they write these?"

"Possibly." She smiled. "This is my user, see? R-iko93. I write Batgirl fanfics. I have the fifth and sixth highest kudos'd fic for her, one's a whump and the other's a case fic featuring Nightwing."

"Those are not real words."

"Are too. Don't worry, D, I don't write about you."

Duke recoiled. "People write about me ?"

"Um, not really. You only have 3 fics, and you're the main character in only one of them."

"Thank god." He glared at the number 1,653. "Why are there so many?"

"Batrons."

Duke blinked. "Batrons?"

"Like patrons, but for Batman fanfiction. There's a website. Since last month, there's been an influx of people willing to pay for accurate, non-OOC Batman fanfics. People took the commission, wrote more fics, and there's been an explosion in Batfics ever since."

"And you're one of those people?"

Riko looked scandalised. "Taking money for writing fanfiction? I would never. It's against the principle."

"The principle." Duke clutched his head. "Man, I'm just gonna erase this from my mind. Pretend it doesn't exist."

"Repression," Riko said, nodding. "Good idea."

An ice cream truck rattled by, the bumper skidding across the tarmac. Duke and Riko exchanged a look.

"Last one there's a rotten Robin," she cried, dashing towards the truck.

Duke grinned and sprinted after her.

****

Nightfall in the Alley wasn't too different from the Narrows. The smell was worse, and there were a few more stray cats, but both were the best spots in Gotham for stargazing. Duke traced Orion's belt with his finger.

"I told you, you're no longer on my cool list."

He turned. Red Hood stood with one foot on the edge of the roof, hands in his pockets. Duke giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You standing like that," Duke said. "You know it doesn't make you look cool, right?"

Jason put his foot on the ground. "Shut up."

"I need your help." Duke slung off his backpack, extracting his English notebook. "I've gotta answer three questions on Huckleberry Finn by tomorrow, and I may not have, um, read the book."

"Duke. What did I tell you?"

"Don't drop out, or you'll end up like Tim."

"Exactly. We don't need any more Tims in this world."

"I think he's cool."

Jason made a gagging noise. "Please don't say that in my presence, like, ever."

"You gonna help me or not?"

"Fine. This night has been weird enough already, might as well call it in."

They settled on the edge of the roof, Duke handing the notebook to Jason. The page was blank save for three scribbled questions and a doodle of Alfred (the cat).

"You seriously didn't start?" Jason opened his mouth, about to go on another rant about education and Tim being an idiot and Harvard University. Duke cut him off.

"You said the night's been weird, Jay? How?"

Thankfully, Jason latched onto the new topic. "How hasn't it been weird? First, Blondie stole my grappling gun last night, so I had to use an older model and it is so goddamn loud. Second, I didn't see a single crook on my patrol route. Switched to my Tuesday route and boom, there they were! It's as if they knew."

"That's inevitable, isn't it? If you don't switch it up."

"Crooks haven't been organised enough to notice for years, so I don't know what's changed. That's not even the weirdest part." Jason ran a hand through his hair. "I busted these two thieves, and one of them held up a cross at me. Lots of crooks do it 'cause they think I'm the devil, but this one asked if I really was Catholic. Not if I was Catholic, but if I really was, like he'd heard it from somewhere."

"Wait, you're Catholic?"

"Not really, but I was raised that way. It's not important. What's important is how the crook knew. I mean, it's not serious or anything, but who the hell's gossiping about the Red Hood's religion?"

"Hm." Something that didn't fit—something small, something most people would overlook. The first piece of a puzzle. Excitement thrummed through Duke's body. "You know anything about the thief?"

"His name's Ace Watkins, native to the Alley. Recently worked with the Yellowguards over in your territory."

The Yellowguards were a new gang taking Gotham by storm, composed of teens and young adults. They'd gone quiet recently—another puzzle piece?

"Narrows," Jason said, waving his hand in Duke's face. "You with me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. What's up?"

He lifted the notebook. "Your homework."

"Um," Duke said, "I was thinking you could just do it for me? Since you're so good at English."

"Duke."

"It's White propaganda, and I'm uncomfortable reading it?"

" Duke ."

"Please? You're my favourite big brother, you know."

Jason stiffened. "Don't call me that."

"Oh." Duke's chest tightened. "Sorry."

"It's not—you're a good kid, Duke. Too good for this family." Jason shrugged, his expression hidden under the mask. "Don't let your guard down, alright? Even with me. It's better to run than to get locked out. You understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Jason coughed. "I won't do your work, but I can summarise the book for you, so it's easier to answer the questions. It starts with Huck and his aunt..."

****

One overly detailed description of Huckleberry Finn later, Duke sped through Gotham, driving his bike into the cave. Everyone was out, and Duke's footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs. The manor was dark. He headed for the kitchen.

The problem with big places was how long it took to get anywhere. Back home, the kitchen was only a few steps away, Mom and Dad's bedroom across the corridor. Everything he needed, within reach.

Duke slapped a sandwich together and ate at the island. A newspaper lay on the counter, open at the crossword page. He skimmed a few of the clues. Three letter word for Turing test participant: bot. Four letter word for fermented honey drinks : mead. Six letter word for vigilante in Gotham City. He snorted and took another bite.

Crosswords were good and all, but they were riddles that went nowhere. What he needed was a real mystery. One with a sense of progress, a sense of direction.

"Thomas?"

Duke startled. Damian stood in the doorway, in his Robin costume. He was scowling.

"Damian," he said. Damian walked stiffly over. "What happened? Where's B?"

"We weren't patrolling together. He doesn't know I came back early."

"Did something happen?"

Damian put his head on the counter, sighing into the granite. "Don't laugh at me. I was fighting Crazy Quilt."

"Ah, Crazy Quilt. I totally know who that is."

"I defeated him in under thirty seconds, as is befitting of my vastly superior skills," he continued. "But he just kept talking. What he was saying, it was strangely—targeted. I don't know how he knew those things."

Duke's eyes widened. "What kind of things?"

"He talked about how Batman rarely lets me patrol alone. And about the time he benched me, though I suppose that was in public, and he may have gotten wind of it. And other things." Damian whacked his forehead against the counter. "It was extremely irritating, and I lost focus. He got away."

"Those things happen," Duke said, patting Damian on the back. "I'm sure B would understand."

"Father? You think he'd understand? I have a better chance of getting Drake to attend my parent-teacher conference. This whole night has been an embarrassment, and Father must not hear about it."

Another crook who knew too much. Duke put his sandwich down, staring at the intersecting boxes of the crossword. Pieces of the puzzle began to move in his mind. A sense of direction...

Duke grabbed Damian's arm and shook. "C'mon, Dami. The night's not over."

"What?"

Duke rushed to the cave, leaping down the steps. He searched up Ace Watkins on the Batcomputer and found his current location. Then he barrelled into the changing rooms, got dressed, and arrived back out in time for Damian to demand an explanation.

"We," he said, hopping onto his bike, "are going to solve a mystery."

****

Most riddles worked by manipulating assumptions. John's father has four sons: Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday . What's the name of the fourth son? Human brains were wired to make patterns, to jump to conclusions. Hypothesis and result. But the key to solving riddles was to stop thinking. Keep an open mind, and you could never be tricked.

Duke parked outside the 61st Precinct, where Ace Watkins was currently awaiting bail. Damian poked him in the neck.

"Did you seriously stay silent the whole ride so your exit line sounded cooler?"

"Yep," Duke said. "Did it work?"

"You are insufferable."

They dismounted, Duke shoving the bike into the bushes for cover. He narrowed his eyes and watched the lights. There—the guard was going to pass in fifteen seconds. He signalled to Damian and they slipped in through an open window.

The precinct was dark, fast food wrappers drifting across the floor like tumble-weeds. A row of cells lined the left wall, two of them empty. A man with dyed blue hair snoozed in the farthest cell.

Duke banged on the bars. The man jerked up, falling off the cot and face-planting on the floor.

"Ace Watkins?"

Ace turned over. "Who—? sh*t, capes! Please, I'll never steal again. I swear I'm on the straight and narrow!"

"We're not here to hurt you." Duke squatted so he was eye-level with Ace. "You had a run-in with Red Hood, didn't you? I'll let you in on a secret, Ace: Hood's a friend of mine."

"That's a secret?"

"Uh, yes?" Jason had taken painstaking measures to preserve his reputation, including having organised brawls with Tim every fortnight or so. And some spontaneous ones, too. Actually, most of them were spontaneous.

"Isn't Hood chummy with you Bats? Especially you and Nightwing. He's just not close with the Robins, or the scary Batgirl."

Damian thrust his sword through the bars, sending Ace scrambling back. "How did you know that?"

"I didn't! I didn't know it was true."

"It was an uncannily good assessment of our dynamics," Damian snapped. "There is no way you could have guessed."

Beads of sweat trickled down Ace's face. "I'm just, uh, good at reading people? I have a complicated family too. My sister's gay, my dad's hom*ophobic, and my brother's an alcoholic. I don't even wanna get into my mom—"

"Please don't." Was there a traitor? Were they bugged? Could this guy read minds? Duke took a deep breath, clearing away the assumptions. "You must have a source. Tell us what it is."

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try us," Damian said.

Ace gulped. "I can't. They'll kill me."

"They?"

"I've said too much. Please," Ace said, reaching through the bars for Duke's hand. "I've heard you're the sanest of the bunch. Just let it go, alright? You're better off not knowing."

Duke snatched his hand back. "The sanest one? What does that even mean?"

"Enough," Damian said. He grabbed Ace by the collar, yanking him against the bars. "Tell us what you know or I'll gouge your eyes out, you skibidi."

"Skibidi?"

"Gen Alpha thing," Duke said, smiling. "Trust me, it'll be worse than the gouging."

Ace paled. "Okay, okay! I read about you guys. That's how I know that stuff."

"Read about us? Where?"

"Online," he stammered. "Have—have you ever heard of AO3?"

Where had Duke heard that term before? Oh, right, Riko. AO3 was a—

Duke shoved Damian aside and seized Ace's shirt, shaking him back and forth. "What the hell does AO3 have to do with this?"

"It's where we read about you," he said. "Oh god, please don't tell my family I read fanfiction. They'll never believe it's for my job. Mom's gonna disown me for real."

"Show me," Duke demanded.

Ace pointed over Duke's shoulder with a trembling finger. "My phone's on that desk, I think. Password is 0624, Mom's birthday. Not that she even remembers mine. If you open Safari, you should see it."

Duke let go of Ace and ran to the desk. The phone, an outdated Android, lit up as he entered the password. He pressed the Safari icon.

"What is it?" Damian pressed against him, tugging at his arm. "Let me see!"

Duke lowered the phone so they both could read at the same time. Red letters spelled out Archive Of Our Own across the top, and in the middle of the screen was the title: Robin's Dilemma.

Hey guys, the notes read, this is my first ever fic! I'm so excited bc grumpy Robin is my bias and he's really not grumpy at all. I saw him get benched by Batman once and he was so sad, my poor little cinnamon roll! I think he cried a little. Poor bby :(.

Duke chanced a look at Damian. Damian's face was grey, his mouth moving soundlessly.

"Told you you're better off not knowing," Ace said.

Duke and Damian both shot him a Batglare. He scurried under the bed.

"This is bad," Duke said, scrolling through the story. The writer was clearly a fan, with small details about patrol routes, weapons, and fights matching up with real life. "Really bad."

Damian gripped Duke's arm. "We must do something."

They locked eyes. An understanding passed between them, and they both nodded. It was time to bring in the big guns.

****

"So," Tim said, swivelling around in his chair like a villain. "You need me?"

Duke could not overstate how much calling on Tim Drake should be a last resort. If you have Plans A-Z, asking for Tim's help should be Plan Ampersand. He was, simply put, ride or die. As in, you ask for a simple favour like a ride, and Tim might drive you off a cliff as a shortcut.

"We do," Duke said. "And I'd never admit that normally, so you see how serious this is."

Tim's eyes brightened. "A mystery?"

"Not anymore." Duke slammed his phone onto Tim's desk, rattling the entire murder boat. Damian refused to touch any surface in this place, and was currently standing on a wooden crate. "Do you know of a website called AO3?"

Tim went white. "You found my account?"

"Your—" Duke threw his hands up. "You have an account ?"

"Of course you would," Damian said. "I bet it is you who called me a cinnamon roll. I am not a dessert! If I were a food, I would be a main course!"

"Hold on," Tim said, "this isn't about my account?"

"No. But we are definitely going back to that." An ache grew between Duke's eyes. "Have you encountered any criminals recently, who seem to know weird things about you?"

"There was one carjacker who asked when I was getting back with Spoiler, but I thought Steph must've set that up."

"She didn't. That carjacker must've read this." He swiped to a story titled True Love's Miss . "It's the most popular Spoiler and Red Robin story. They call you Red Robin a lot, I'm guessing to separate you from Damian."

Tim's jaw dropped. "Wait, two thousand kudos? That is so unfair. I only got 50, at most."

"Is that really what you're focusing on? Criminals are using these stories to learn information about us. They're even using it in battle, like Crazy Quilt did against Damian."

"You fought Crazy Quilt?" Tim smirked. "I didn't get an alert that he was arrested."

Damian flushed. "It's all this rancid website's fault!"

"I see," Tim said. He steepled his fingers. "So criminals are reading through the Batman tag on AO3, finding information about us, and using it against us in the field?"

"Yeah, that's about it."

"It doesn't make sense. Fanfics are notoriously inaccurate, there'd be more wrong than right information in there."

"I don't know, but—" Another piece clicked into place. "Batrons. The Batrons! Can I borrow your laptop?"

"No, I'm—"

Duke snatched Tim's laptop and searched up Batrons. Disregarding a few results for Barron's, he found a sketchy link leading to a website called Birdwatchers. The link was blue.

"Tim," Duke said, breathing through his nose. "This is a website for stalking the Bats. Why is it bookmarked on your laptop?"

"Uh, training?"

"We should've gone to Dick," Duke said over his shoulder.

"Absolutely not!" He could hear Damian's pout. "If Richard read those stories, he would start calling me a cinnamon roll, and I would have to kill him. Do you want me to kill him, Thomas?"

"Right now I want someone to kill me ."

"Birdwatchers is a good website," Tim said defensively. "It's just sightings and a discussion forum. Nothing sketchy."

"Except for this," Duke said, pointing at a tab that read Batrons .

Tim frowned. "I haven't seen that before. It must be new."

"Riko said it was created last month. It's a place where people commission Gotham Batfans to write accurate fanfiction of us, or something."

"That's—" Tim pounded the desk. "That's brilliant. Most fanfic writers are teenage girls, and there's nothing a teenage girl won't do for fanfiction research. Steph will back me up on that. They're everywhere in Gotham, we can't arrest anyone 'cause it's not a crime, and we wouldn't even know who to arrest anyway. Simply brilliant."

"Tim," Duke said, shaking him by the shoulders, "I need you to realise this is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Even stupider than your shock-villains-with-Gen-Alpha-slang idea."

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Do you want me to remind you what Bruce said?"

They all shuddered. "You have a point," Tim conceded. "I'll try to trace the origin of the Batrons tab. Should give us a clue who's behind this."

"And what should we do in the meantime?" Damian asked. "Let these people keep writing about us?"

Most riddles worked by manipulating assumptions. But some worked with an overload of information: a murder happened in a round house. The butler says he was in the garden, the mom was cooking, the maid was dusting the corners, the kids were playing video games. Who did it? Too much information obscured the truth.

"We could wait," Duke said slowly. "Or..."

Tim and Damian stared at him. "Or?"

"Or," he said, "we could fight back."

****

The library was Duke's favourite room in Wayne Manor. Cosy, well-lit, and almost always occupied. Plus the poetry section, which only he and Jason ever visited. They had a system: they'd read two different volumes of poems from the same author, write notes in the margins, and swap.

Today, though, Duke wasn't dealing with poetry. Today, he was dealing with fanfiction.

They sat in a circle on the floor, a blank piece of A3 paper spread between them. Tim had a blue marker, Damian had red, and Duke had yellow.

"Alright," Duke said. It was weird being leader. He'd done it during the Robin movement, but he hadn't started that. This time it was his idea. He was leading Tim and Damian into the stupidest, most harebrained scheme the world had ever seen. "The goal is to mystify our opponents. Make them assume things about us that aren't true, and turn their information source against them."

Tim twirled the marker between his fingers. "Got it. We're starting with ourselves?"

"Yep." Duke wrote sanest member of the family on the paper. "The guy we interrogated said something like that. I think we should keep it, 'cause it might cause them to underestimate me."

"The sanest member? What does that even mean?"

"That's what I said!"

"I think I am the sanest member of the family," Damian said.

Tim and Duke glanced at each other and snickered. "Sure, Damian," Tim said. "Whatever floats your boat."

"Damian next," Duke said. He drew a baby on the paper. "I also think we should—"

The full weight of an angry assassin slammed him into the floor. "I will slit your throat," Damian hissed. Duke laughed and pinched his cheek.

"Cinnamon roll," he said.

"I am not a cinnamon roll!"

Duke rolled out from under Damian, avoiding a jab to the neck. "It's supposed to be fake. If people think you're a baby, they'll be super surprised when you stab them in the gut."

"I suppose." Damian sniffed. "But I also want to be feared."

Tim snapped his fingers. "I've got it! Half the time you'll be a baby, and the other half you'll be a feral killer demon. That's basically what you are anyway." Tim drew a knife in the baby's hand.

"That is acceptable," Damian said, adding a cat next to the baby.

"Okay, now we're onto Tim. Any ideas?"

Damian straightened, but Tim beat him to the punch.

"I want to be a loser," Tim said. "With neglectful parents, and Batman doesn't appreciate me enough, and I also get sick easily."

Duke blinked. "What?"

"Have you ever heard of woobification?" Tim leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "It's when a character is infantilised and their suffering exaggerated or milked for pity. Lots of characters get woobified."

"And you want to—woobify yourself?"

"Exactly," Tim said.

Damian drew a really nice sketch of Tim sobbing in a puddle of tears. "This is how I see you, anyway."

"Whatever you say, cinnamon roll."

"Alright," Duke said, tapping the paper. "This is a good start. Now I just need to feed these to Riko, and she can write a fiction for us."

"First of all, it's a fic. Second of all, why don't you just write it?"

"Me? I don't write."

Damian tutted. "I've seen your notebooks, Thomas. You are an excellent writer."

"You—you really think so?"

"You're better than Jason," Tim said. "For a guy who loves to read, his writing sucks ass. But he said you were good too."

Warmth spread through Duke's chest. "I guess I could give it a try."

"Great," Tim said. "You work on that, I'll work on finding the person behind Batrons, and Damian can work on his baby noises."

Damian brandished his knife. "Or I can work on something else."

"Whoa," Duke said, "you look exactly like the drawing."

Tim laughed so hard he choked, and Damian took a break from stabbing Duke to save him. It was amusing, sometimes, how they wouldn't pass the salt to each other, but they'd die for each other in a heartbeat. Brothers. Duke wondered when he'd know what that felt like.

****

The bell rang and Duke burst out the school doors. He'd done the three questions for Mr. Sheen, but he'd completely forgotten about his biology project. Mrs. Freedman had tutted, informing him that she would have to contact his parents. Duke barely stopped himself from saying, yeah, good luck with that .

Bruce still hadn't noticed Duke had wired all school calls to Cousin Jay. Last time Damian had gotten in trouble, Bruce had confiscated Robin for a week. There was no way Duke was risking patrol over some stupid science project.

"Hey, you."

Duke halted. Beyond the school gates, Isabella Ortiz waved at him, a small smile on her lips. For him. He looked away.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighbourhood," she said. "And I wanted to see you."

Duke gripped the strap of his backpack. "I can't chat for long, Izzy. Got places to be."

"And better people to see, huh?"

"It's not like that."

"Just messing with you." She lifted an eyebrow at him, and his heart fluttered. "The GA uniform looks good on you."

"You think? It pinches at the shoulders. Not sure it fits that well."

"Don't you guys have a personal tailor?"

Duke flushed. "No. We don't have a pool, either, if you're gonna ask."

"You know me so well." Izzy's smile faded. "I, uh, got the acceptance yesterday. From Summerton."

"The dance academy? That's incredible, Izzy."

"Thanks to you," she said. "You hyped me up for the audition."

"I didn't do a thing. It was all you."

She let out a breath. "You're still perfect, aren't you, Duke? Makes it so hard to be mad at you."

"Izzy—"

"You ghosted me," she said. "You said we could stay friends, and then you ghosted me."

"I've been busy."

"Yeah," she said, bitter enough to turn Duke's stomach. "I know."

What could he say? That he still loved her, even though he'd been the one to call it off? That she kept him awake at night, in his too-big room at the manor, wondering if she'd found someone else? Someone far away from Robins and signals and danger. Someone who wouldn't run.

"I'll try to text back more often," he said. "I hope you have a good time at Summerton. You deserve to be there more than anyone."

She leaned over the fence, hair spilling over her shoulders. "They're having an open house tomorrow. I was wondering, if you weren't busy—if you'd like to—"

"Duke!"

A pair of arms wrapped around him, a thick, crushing hug that could only belong to one Cassandra Cain. Duke twisted around, more out of habit than any belief he could slip Cass' grip.

"Cass," he wheezed, "air, remember?"

She let go. "Weak lungs."

"Compared to you, yeah." He turned back to Izzy. "You guys remember each other? Izzy was in the We Are Robin movement with me."

Izzy grinned. "I remember Cass over here kicking your butt in training."

"Many times," Cass said. "Over a hundred."

"You kept count of that, but you don't remember owing me twenty bucks?"

Cass made her I'm-an-angel face. Duke snorted and signed, not Bruce. Doesn't work on me.

Not even a little? she signed back.

You're closer to the devil, C.

"Okay," Izzy said. "I guess I should get going. Have fun hanging out, you two."

"Wait," Duke blurted out.

"Yes?"

The urge to move, to jump the fence and grab onto her, buzzed through his fingers. But the thought of being tangled up like that, in her sweater, all that weight—rooted to the spot—he took a step towards Cass.

"Congrats again," he said. "Have fun at the open house."

Izzy nodded, shoulders falling slightly. She smiled at Cass and turned around, disappearing into a crowd of strangers.

"You didn't tell me you broke up," Cass said.

"It wasn't a big deal." He dug his shoe into the dirt. "I mean, she started talking about the future, about all these long-term plans. About how happy I made her feel. But I couldn't—it scared me. Does that make sense?"

Cass reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. "Perfect sense. Better, this way. Safer. You won't hurt her, and she won't hurt you."

"But I did hurt her."

"Could be worse." Her eyes flicked to her tote bag, decorated with little Spoilers. "Sometimes we don't get what we want. Sometimes it's for the best."

"God, this is depressing." He tugged at her hand. "Let's not talk about this anymore. School was such a drag, and I need someone to drown my sorrows with me in unlimited Batburger milkshakes."

"With Jokerised fries?"

"Don't tell Jason, but yes."

"Won't tell Jay," Cass said, rolling her eyes. "Don't talk to him."

"Hey, he's cool. He helps me with my homework."

She gagged. "Don't say that. Ever. And homework's not important."

Duke laughed, and they strolled to the nearest Batburger, hands intertwined the whole way.

****

Robin opens the door. In the slit of light, slicing through the dark of midnight Gotham, a sparrow feasts on a raven. An omen of things to come. Robin draws his blade, his heart thumping in his chest. Thump, thump, thump. Like the bassline of his favourite song, "Baby Shark".

"Do do do do do," he hums.

"Robin," Red Robin says, quivering behind him, "your voice is too loud. My ears are sensitive!"

"Shut up you fugly cow," Robin screeches at the top of his lungs.

Signal stands by the door, torch in hand. "Please stop arguing, guys. You should go to therapy. By the way, did you know I like watching paint dry?"

"I like finger painting," Robin says.

"Paint reminds me of blood," Red Robin says. He sits down and cries.

"I think I made it too ridiculous." Duke paced the carpet of the library, worrying his lip. "No one will believe this is based on something real."

"Hm," Tim said.

Duke froze. "Oh god, you hate it. I knew it was awful. Let's just ask Riko, I'm sure she—"

"It's good," Tim said. " Too good. Were you even trying to write fanfiction? There's not enough run-on sentences and way too much symbolism. Also, too many 'says'. You gotta put random adverbs everywhere."

"I agree with Drake," Damian said, leaning against Tim to read the document. "From the fanfiction excerpts I have read, this is far too high quality."

"...Thanks?"

"Here," Tim said. He placed the iPad on the table, enlarging the text. "If we add something here, and rewrite this, and delete that..."

Duke peered at the new and improved fic. "The Boy Wonder (smaller version) opens the rusting door confidently. In the slit of light, slicing through the magnificent and striking dark of midnight Gotham, a sparrow lets out a breath it didn't know it was holding." He blinked. "This is certainly something."

"You did good with the characterisations, though," Tim said. "This is exactly what I wanted."

"And if I had to have a favourite fictional song, I am glad it is about a shark," Damian said.

Duke schooled his face. "You think "Baby Shark" is a fictional song?"

"I'd have heard of a real song about shark pups, Thomas."

"What about "What Does the Fox Say"?" Tim asked.

Damian shot him a withering look. "In what world do foxes speak, Drake?"

"Dick's gonna flip," Tim said, typing something into his phone. He put it on the table and grabbed the tablet again. "It's time to launch the experiment. I've set up a dummy account called batfamatic , ostensibly run by Darrow Summers, a fifteen-year-old from the Bowery. I've made a Tumblr and Twitter account to support his existence. Please follow, by the way. Right now I've only got two bots and my thirteen alt accounts."

"There is something very wrong with you," Damian said.

"Thanks. What should the title be? I was thinking Robin Reckoning , 'cause it sounds cool."

"It should be sad and all lowercase," Duke said, "like robin's tears ."

"Nonsense," Damian said. "From the research I have done, it should be a song lyric from an artist Richard likes. Perhaps from the new Taylor Swift album."

Tim choked. "Dick made you listen to Taylor Swift?"

"He did not make me. We simply had a listening session together."

The image of Damian vibing to Taylor Swift made Duke's brain buffer. By the time he recovered, Tim had typed we declared charlie puth should be a bigger robin fan into the title box.

"Time for the tags," Tim said. "Robin & Red Robin & Signal, obviously. Based on Real Events. Robin Is A Cinnamon Roll. Signal Is The Sanest Member Of The Batclan. Red Robin Is A Mess. Red Robin Has Issues. Red Robin Needs Therapy. Red Robin—"

"Dude," Duke said, "this just sounds like a cry for help."

"I need to invent all these tags so people use it," Tim said. "It's gonna be hilarious. I don't hear you guys contributing anything."

"Robin Likes Sharks," Damian offered.

"Tags are supposed to hook readers in, they're not just random facts."

"Signal Is A Metahuman," Duke said. "Signal Wears Yellow."

Tim groaned. "You guys are so bad at this. Okay, I'll add Robin Likes Baby Songs. Oh, and can't forget the classic: No Beta We Die Like The Second Robin."

"We die like the what ?" Duke gaped. "That cannot be real."

"It's the most popular tag in the fandom."

"Huh. You sure know a lot about Batman fanfiction."

"Um, I've done research?"

Duke thrust an accusing finger at Tim's nose. "You've written some, haven't you?"

"No way," Tim said, eyes flicking left. "Nothing you can prove. I've orphaned everything!"

"You've orphaned people?" Damian asked, horrified.

"That's not—can we please get back on track? I'm gonna hit post." Duke and Damian pressed against him on both sides, craning to see the tablet. They all held their breath as Tim punched the grey button.

Work was successfully posted.

Tim turned to Duke. "What now?"

"Now," he said, "I go on patrol."

****

Duke ran underneath an overcast sky, the sun blotted out by thick clouds. Late autumn weather was always the worst in Gotham. He rolled to a stop on the Terrace Apartments, across the street from Sunny's Deli.

As a kid, he'd loved Sunny's Deli. His mom had taken him there every Thursday, ordering the usual: a tuna melt with onions, cheddar cheese, and tomato. Duke's Spanish was rusty, but he could rattle off that order in a heartbeat.

Last time he'd been in there, busting a thief with Tim and Damian, Sunny hadn't recognised him. Of course not—he'd been in costume, and it had been years since they'd last seen each other. Duke was nowhere near that eight-year-old kid clinging to his mother's hand. Still, it would've been nice, Sunny recognising him.

"I can't believe we're doing this."

The voice came from the alley behind Terrace Apartments. Duke crept to the edge, activating his suit's stealth mode. Combined with his powers, he turned completely invisible.

"You read the thing," another voice said. "It's safer now. Signal's the sanest member, so if we get caught, he'll go easy on us. Just have your sob story in hand."

Holy crap, they'd taken the bait. Duke grinned and cracked his knuckles.

"Are you sure the intel's legit?"

"Has to be, Janice. All the gangs in Gotham are using it. Just last night, one of my friends escaped Batgirl 'cause he'd read about her leg injury."

Duke snuck down the fire escape, treading as lightly as possible.

"If you say so." The girl—Janice—shrugged. She was carrying a steel pipe, while her partner, a boy with spiky hair, spun two crowbars around. "Let's get this show on the road. I have soccer practice in an hour, and that bodega's not gonna rob itself."

Duke leapt in between the two teens, swiping at their legs and sending them tumbling to the floor. He wrenched the pipe from Janice's hands, turning visible and smacking the steel against his palm.

"No one's robbing anything on my watch." God, that was so lame. Jason always had the coolest entry lines. He'd have to swing by tonight to get some advice.

"Signal!" The boy got on his knees, bowing his head. "Please don't hurt me or my sister. We're poor kids, native to the Narrows, and we have no other choice."

Duke co*cked his head. "Really? Name three hot dog carts in this area."

"Um," the boy said, darting a nervous glance at Janice. "What are the names again, sis?"

Her eye twitched. "No idea, bro . I never learned to read, remember?"

"Oh! Me neither. We're both poor and illiterate. Also, our mom's dead and our dad's dying. And our dog." He clapped his hands together. "Word on the street is you're the kindest, most helpful Bat. Please, sir. Let us go out of the goodness of your heart."

Duke pressed a hand to his chest. "That changes everything. You both can go."

"Really?"

"Nope." Duke handcuffed them both to each other, tossing the key in a dumpster. "Don't believe everything you hear, man. Or read."

He dialled the police and left them bickering in the alley.

****

"And then he got on his knees and made up this ridiculous story," Duke said. "He really thought I'd let him go."

Tim cackled, scribbling in his data sheet. "Excellent. How are the stats looking, Damian?"

"3,089 hits, 340 kudos, and 80 bookmarks." Damian looked tiny in the chair, one of the biggest in the Batcave. His feet hovered an inch off the floor. "Sixteen additional fics have been posted with the tag 'Red Robin Has Issues', four with 'Red Robin Needs Therapy', and six with 'Robin Is A Cinnamon Roll'."

"And how many for Signal Is The Sanest Member or whatever?"

"None, as of yet. You don't have many fics in general."

"Oh." That was good, obviously. Being written about was weird. He breathed to clear the strange tightness in his chest.

As Tim rattled off ideas for their next fic, the elevator doors pinged open and Dick Grayson stepped out. As soon as his gaze landed on them, he lit up.

Damian rushed over, throwing his arms around Dick. "Richard! You didn't say you were coming over."

"I wasn't planning to, but I got a sample I need to run through the lab." He ruffled Damian's hair. "It's good to see you, Dami. And you two, of course. C'mere."

Tim joined the hug, melting into Dick's arms. Duke didn't move. Dick's smile dipped a bit.

Okay, so he was being petty. But Dick had never apologised for that roof-abandonment thing, and sure, it was all part of some scheme, but that had been Duke's first taste of the Bats. The first taste of what they called family. And Dick had told Duke he was special, led him to a roof, and left him for the police to find.

"Come with me on patrol," Damian said, tugging on Dick's arm.

"Of course," Dick said, smiling. Damian soaked up the attention like a flower in the sun.

He couldn't make it any more obvious that Dick was his favourite. Everyone knew, even those fanfic writers (see the tag Nightwing Is Robin's Favourite ). Again, a good thing. Again, his chest was tight.

"Duke?"

Tim had stepped away from the hug, looking at him with what Stephanie called his detective face. Duke gave him a smile.

"I'm heading to bed," he said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Tim waved. Damian chattered away with Dick, eyes bright. Duke headed up the stairs.

****

The next two days passed by in a blur. Daytime crime had skyrocketed, Duke's patrols crammed minute-to-minute with Oracle reports. It's not that he liked more crime or anything, but honestly, this beat hours of wandering around Gotham with only the pigeons for company.

He'd been arresting large numbers of low-level crooks, most tied to smaller gangs. Tim's trace on the Batrons website had been a bust—whoever was on the other side was good. Maybe not as good as Barbara, but they were holding off on telling her. None of them were eager for the inevitable lecture.

Duke waited on the usual Crime Alley roof, placing his bag on the ground. There'd been a college fair at school today, and he'd snagged an Amazon gift card for Tim, a Yuanyuan Tan postcard for Cass, and a lion pen for Damian. Before he'd decided on what to get Jason, Mrs. Freedman had pulled him aside, going on a spiel about college decisions and work ethic and other nonsense. He'd promised to take the fair seriously and, as soon as her back was turned, had bolted out of the gymnasium.

"You do know this is my territory, right?" Jason landed beside him, folding his arms. "It's no-Bats-allowed."

"I'm barely a Bat," Duke said.

Jason huffed. "I guess you can stay. For now."

"Here." Duke reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer.

"Are you insinuating something? I wash my hands, you know."

"Sorry, I had to snag something at the last minute. It was either this or the flimsiest water bottle on the planet. I got it from my college fair."

"Why are you giving it to me?"

"'Cause it's a gift?" Duke raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, a thing one person gives to another?"

"I know what a gift is." Jason took the sanitizer, rubbing his thumb over the smooth surface. "This is lame, but—thanks."

Duke slung his bag over his shoulder. "I'll get you something better next time."

"You're leaving?"

"This is your territory."

"Yeah, well, it's a slow night. Like the past few days." Jason shook his head. "I swear, these criminals are getting weirder by the second. Y'know what one of them said, when I nearly caved their head in with a crowbar? He said he was glad it's me and not the feral Robin. I did not stuff a bunch of heads in a duffel bag to be less feared than Damian."

Duke stroked his chin. "So you'd like to be more feared?"

"Absolutely. You all are making me look soft."

"You do that on your own. But don't worry, Jason. That'll change soon."

"What does that mean?" Jason took a step back. "You're up to something, aren't you?"

Duke tried on Cass' angel face. "Nope."

"This better not be like that bullsh*t you and the Robins pulled last month."

"Relax, old man," Duke said, patting Jason's shoulder.

" Old man? "

"Just remembered I have to go." Duke skipped to the edge of the roof. "See ya!"

He leapt into the night, Jason's curses trailing off in his wake.

****

The study was empty. Damian's sketchbook lay open on the couch, pens and pencils scattered across the cushions. Damian never went anywhere without his sketchbook. Duke ducked out of the room and ran down the hallway.

His mom used to say everything was clearer in the daylight. That was why she visited her clients in the morning, to see them with fresh eyes. For the most part, he agreed. Light made people softer. But some people were hard to read no matter what time of day.

"—have to go?"

Duke skidded to a stop, peering around the corner. Damian stood in the entrance of Wayne Manor, facing the sun outside. The sunlight was blocked, however, by Dick's figure in the doorway.

"I wasn't even supposed to stay the night," Dick said, placing a hand on Damian's head. "I'll see you on our Thursday patrol, okay?"

"You said you'd patrol with me tonight as well."

"I know, but something came up. I promise I'll make it up to you."

Damian's shoulders slumped. "Why can't you just stay?"

"This isn't my home, Damian."

"But it's—" He sighed. "Yes. You have other responsibilities."

"See you Thursday, little D."

Dick vanished from the doorway, letting sunlight wash into the lobby. Duke fired off a quick text and then coughed, causing Damian to whip around.

"Thomas," he said, relaxing. "I thought you were out."

"Came back early. Barbara told me to catch a break, since daytime crime has gone up so much. She's covering for me." Duke hesitated. "You okay?"

"I am adequate. I have not been injured for a while."

"I meant, uh. Nevermind." Duke jerked his head towards the corridor. "You free? I need your help with something."

He led Damian to the library, where his laptop lay on a bench by the window. They sat next to each other, backs against the glass. Duke dimmed the sunlight to make the screen easier to see.

"So far our fic's been a success, right? More people are going out in the day 'cause they think I'm easier to deal with, and Tim told me villains are more reluctant to hurt him."

"Me too," Damian said. "They alternate between pity and fear."

"You and Tim haven't been hurt since this thing started, which means it's definitely effective. So I was thinking, why not extend this to the others?"

Damian blinked, then a slow smirk spread across his face. "What were you thinking?"

"Let's start with Dick. I think I should make him stupid. Very, very stupid."

"Richard isn't stupid. That will besmirch his reputation."

"That's the point," Duke said. "Crooks will underestimate him. Besides, I think he deserves a little besmirching."

Damian stiffened. "You overheard us."

"That's how I know he's stupid," Duke said. "If I were him, I would've stayed."

"For me?"

"Who else?"

Damian stared at him before looking down at his hands. "Thomas," he said, "you are—to me, you are—"

The doors slammed open and Tim burst inside. He bent towards the floor, wheezing.

"What the hell," he said, between breaths. "You know how many traffic laws I broke to get here? You should've given me more warning."

"I didn't say you had to be here immediately," Duke said.

"There is no way I'm missing a new fic brainstorming sesh." Tim marched to the bookshelf, extracted their A3 sheet of paper, and spread it on the floor. "Did I miss anything?"

"No," Damian said quickly. "Thomas was thinking about extending the fanfiction to other members of the family."

"Other—?" Tim grabbed Duke's knees. "Duke, you're a genius."

"I was saying we should make Dick an idiot," Duke said.

"That has potential." Tim drew a stick figure of Dick and wrote STUPID over his head. "Ooh, we could also pretend he doesn't have a temper. The criminals won't know what's coming when he loses it on them." He added a big smile to Dick's circle face.

"What about Jason?" Duke asked. "He needs something to make criminals scared of him again."

"Pit Madness," Damian said.

Tim co*cked an eyebrow. "Pit Madness?"

"It's a rumour that used to circulate around the League. They believed that the Lazarus Pits held on to some part of the soul, so that when someone emerged from the waters, they were not wholly sane."

"That is too good." Tim attempted to sketch Jason coming out of a pool, but couldn't get the perspective right. Damian snatched the pencil, erased Tim's work, and drew a much nicer picture.

"Give him glowing eyes," Duke said.

Damian and Tim stared at him.

"What? Glowing eyes are cool!"

"I forgot you actually like Todd," Damian said.

"Nobody's perfect," Tim said.

"He's kinda cool, guys."

They wore matching expressions of disgust. Damian shook his head and said, "let's move on to Cain."

"That one's easy," Tim said. "Just draw how Bruce sees her."

Damian drew Cass with a halo and wings. They all sighed.

"B gets one girl and she can do no wrong," Tim said. "Back when it was just the two of us and Steph, you know many times B refused to believe it was her that led us into a trap?"

"She blamed me for a broken vase," Damian grumbled. "Father did not even ask for my side of the story."

They glared at angel Cass.

"Now we just have Stephanie and Bruce left," Duke said. "Honestly, I can't think of one for Steph."

"You guys talking about me?"

Duke jolted. Stephanie leaned against the door frame, holding a plate of waffles. She surveyed them with a suspicious gaze.

"The three of you together," she said, taking a bite of waffle. "Why do I have a bad feeling about this?"

"Because you have terrible intuition?" Tim said.

Stephanie chewed on her waffle harder than necessary. "My intuition is great , thank you very much. I just busted one of my classmates for leading a black market at school. He was hot, too."

"Please leave, and take your vulgarities with you," Damian said.

She walked over and plopped down on the floor. "Now I'm staying forever. And—what the hell is this?" She scanned the A3 paper, lips parting. "Is that Cass?"

"Damian's teaching us how to draw," Duke said.

Stephanie's finger landed on baby Damian with a knife, went to Tim in a puddle of tears, then to Jason crawling out of the Lazarus Pit. "Uh huh," she said. "This is so totally normal."

"Hey, Steph," Tim said, "what's your least favourite trope in fiction?"

She tensed. "What will you do with my answer?"

"Nothing."

"Hmph. I guess it's when a girl character's just a love interest, with no depth or personality. Or she has, like, one trait that doesn't mean anything."

"Good to know." Tim smiled. "You can go now."

"Just tell me, will whatever you guys are doing cause Bruce to blow a gasket? 'Cause last time, he kinda got the better of you."

"We're not doing anything," Tim said. They all turned to her with innocent faces.

"This is a cult," Stephanie said. "I can't believe it. You guys might be too chaotic for me."

"Goodbye, Brown," Damian said.

She shot them one last incredulous look before exiting the room. The smell of waffles lingered behind.

"Perfect," Tim said, grinning. "Let's make Steph a waffle-lover. That's all she talks about, besides boys she used to like." He drew Stephanie with a waffle in one hand and a heart in the other.

"That's enough for now," Duke said. "I think I can whip up a story tonight."

"And I'll prep some accounts so we can get engagement," Tim said. "It'll be more realistic if you get some hate comments. Wanna help, Damian?"

Damian lit up. Tim and Duke laughed.

****

The cerulean Gotham sky stretches above him. Red Hood stands on the roof, his green orbs glowing. It always glows when he's in the grip of madness. He punches a villain who is on the roof for some reason and pitches him off the edge.

"ARGH!" Red Hood roars.

"Hood," says a soft, petite voice. The voice belongs to the non-blonde Batgirl. "Please stop. I will get you help."

She reaches up and touches his shoulder. As if by magic, he calms down, his orbs returning to their normal colour.

"Thanks, Batgirl," he says. "You are so kind and understanding and we get along so well."

They embrace tearfully like two peas in a pod, if peas had arms to hug with and eyes to cry. They separate when blond Batgirl lands on the roof, holding a sack.

"What's in the sack?" Red Hood asks.

"Waffles!"

"You shouldn't eat so many waffles," says Batgirl.

The blond sticks out her tongue. "Waffles are everything! I love waffles! And boys! I hope Red Robin and I get back together. I have to go take care of him now, he's been crying in his bathroom for five hours. See you on Waffle Friday!" She leaps off the roof.

"We need to stage a waffle intervention," Batgirl says, shaking her head.

Red Hood shrugs diffidently. "At least it's better than her boy crazy phases. That's all she ever talks about, boys and waffles."

"Hey, where's Nightwing?" Batgirl asks.

"He got his head stuck in a trash can again." Red Hood points down into the alley, where Nightwing is rolling around on the floor. "Poor guy. He burnt down the kitchen last night, too."

"At least he has a big heart," Batgirl says wisely, "because his brain isn't doing him any favours."

Nightwing's muffled voice cries loudly, "help!"

"I'm coming!" Batgirl calls helpfully. Red Hood and Batgirl hug once more before going their separate ways.

A/N: I really heard them have this convo outside my apartment building!! Blond Batgirl even gave me one of her waffles, but Red Hood slipped into madness again and broke the waffle apart :(. Pls kudos because I'm sad.

Comments:

@redrobinyum: So good! You nailed their characterisations perfectly. Did you know Nightwing once got his wallet stolen three times in one night? It was hilarious. Can't wait for more!

@theonetrueheir: This is truly atrocious writing. You should go back to the womb, you failure of existence. You are a waste of oxygen.

Edit: However, I have also overheard a conversation similar to this one, and have seen Red Hood on one of his rampages. Well done on research. You should still never write again.

****

Duke stumbled down the stairs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Everyone else was already there, fully costumed and radiating tension. Except Tim, who was playing solitaire on his tablet, and Damian, who was patting Batcow.

"Sorry I'm late," Duke said. "I was just heading to bed."

"I won't keep you up much longer," Bruce said, coming over to squeeze Duke's shoulder. "I wanted you to be a part of this. It concerns you too."

"What's wrong?"

Nightwing (which, seriously. He couldn't stay at the manor for more than two nights, but he could come to the cave every other day?) groaned. "What isn't wrong is the question. The whole world's gone crazy!"

Cass signed her agreement from her perch on one of the filing cabinets.

"There have been multiple strange occurrences recently," Bruce said. "We'll begin with Stephanie. What happened to you last night?"

"I was captured by some of Reggis' men, the guy I've been tracking for weeks now. No biggie, just a routine kidnapping, until they started trying to bribe me. With waffles." Stephanie's eye twitched. "That was weird enough, but then I broke up a gang skirmish on Fifth, and guess what? They also talked about waffles! Is that slang for drugs or something? Are waffles suddenly in high demand?"

"Not that I know of," Jason said. "But at least it was just waffles for you. Three separate muggers asked me if my eyes could glow, like, what the absolute f*ck?"

"Who cares? Eyes glowing is cool," Cass said. "Bad guys talking to me like a little girl is not cool. Not scared of me anymore. Had to twist some arms."

Dick made a sympathetic noise. "Yeah, for some reason crooks aren't scared of me anymore either. But they keep calling me an idiot? Like, way more than usual. It's starting to get offensive."

"You are an idiot," Jason said.

"Alright, Danny Phantom."

"My eyes do not glow!"

Duke concentrated hard on keeping a straight face. "What about you, Bruce? They say anything to you?"

"Sort of," Bruce said. He glanced at Tim. "They were saying concerning things about some of you."

"Oh, yeah," Tim chimed in, putting down his tablet. "They seem to think I'm having a mental health crisis. How strange."

"If you are—"

"I'm fine," Tim said. "In fact, we all are. What is this meeting for, anyway? Nobody got hurt."

"Are you kidding? There's clearly something afoot," Jason said.

"What's afoot is that whatever these rumours are, they're helping us. No thug has tried to bash my brains in 'cause they're too busy recommending therapists. Steph, you finally managed to take down Reggis, right?"

Stephanie tilted her head. "Yeah, if take down is the right word. He literally walked up to me dressed like a waffle and thought I wouldn't hurt him."

"And Cass, you doubled your arrests last night."

"They thought they could take me," she said. "They were wrong."

Tim leaned back in his chair. "I rest my case."

"Hn," Bruce said. "You have a point. These last few nights have been unusually successful."

"You're kidding." Jason dragged a hand down his face. "Am I the only one with any sanity here? We have no idea where these rumours come from, or why they're being created."

"Gotham is Gotham, man," Duke said.

Bruce hummed. "Keep your guards up," he said, "in case this is some sort of trap. But if citizens are spreading rumours to our advantage, we might as well use them."

"But something's afoot, Bruce! Afoot! "

"Alright, Jay," Dick said, "time for some fresh air."

He heralded Jason out of the cave, his cries growing fainter and fainter until they died away.

****

Duke poked his head out from under the awning. Rain poured down around him, drenching the street signs and benches. A cat scampered underneath a rusted postbox.

His suit was waterproof, but the rain made his powers difficult. The drops diffracted light a billion different directions, and every time he tried to see where the light had been or would be, his vision fractured like a kaleidoscope.

"Adding that to the file," he murmured. He'd have to tell Bruce about it when he got back.

His phone buzzed. Bruce, most likely. He swiped up and found it was very definitely not Bruce.

DaxAtax: Yo @Dukedom, do Red Hood's eyes rlly glow?

The Robins chat hadn't been used since Riko tried to plan Dre's birthday party. Duke had planned on going, he really had, but it had coincided with his first public gala. Izzy had dipped for an audition, Dax had had a family emergency, and Dre had declared at the last minute that he hadn't wanted a party in the first place.

R-iko93: @Dukedom ????

Duke typed a few words. He deleted them.

DaxAtax: We can see you typing, bro

Dre-B: hes too cool for us now didnt you get the memo

God, he'd never liked Dre.

Dukedom: his eyes totally do glow also he's super cool and he could kick your ass @Dre-B

Dre-B: oh so u do rmbr we exist

IzzyOr3: leave him alone, dre

DaxAtax: We're just glad to hear from you Duke

The rain was clearing up. Duke's fingers hovered over the keyboard, tapping a few letters and then backspacing immediately. He'd always known some riddles had higher stakes than others. Some you couldn't afford to get wrong.

"Kids these days really are addicted to their screens." Duke fumbled with his phone as Jason splashed onto the ground, spraying water everywhere. He was wearing a transparent poncho over a sweater (Dick's, probably, given the Christmassy vibe).

"What are you doing here?" Duke said, pocketing his phone. "It's daytime."

In the sunlight, Jason looked younger than usual. He ducked under the awning. "I'm not here on business, exactly."

"That's not ominous at all."

"Relax, Narrows." Jason scuffed the concrete with his shoe. "Just wanted to check on you, 'cause of all the weird stuff going on. Y'know."

"You were worried about me?"

"I didn't say that," Jason said, blushing.

Duke grinned. "Thanks, man. That means a lot." The pour had slowed to a drizzle, the cat under the postbox stretching out a tentative paw. "I'm fine, though. All the goons think I'm the sanest Bat, so I've been taking them by surprise."

"Where the hell are they getting this stuff?"

"No clue."

Jason shot him a look. "They're afraid of me again, after I told you I wanted them to be. You have no clue how that happened, either?"

"Nope."

Jason grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like afoot .

"You don't need to worry about me," Duke said. "But if you're here, you wanna—"

There was another splash, and a pair of arms crushed Duke into a hug.

"Cass," he gasped. "Not again."

She giggled. Like Jason, she was wearing a poncho, but the sweater underneath was the familiar brown of Bruce's closet. The sleeves were bunched up at her elbows.

"Good to see you, little brother," she said. Her eyes slid to Jason, and she stilled. "Jay."

"Cassandra. What are you doing here?"

"Here for Duke."

Jason crossed his arms. "Yeah, well, I was here first. Go hang out with condom cowl."

"You go hang out with your friends. Oh wait," Cass said, tapping her chin. "Can't think of any."

"Okay," Duke said, pulling away from Cass, "you guys aren't gonna brawl right in front of me, are you?"

"Why would we brawl?" Cass said. "I would win."

"Your head is so far up your ass, it's a wonder you can see."

"It's a wonder you can—"

"Guys," Duke said.

Jason grabbed Duke's arm. "C'mon, Signal. Let's go somewhere away from the Bats."

"Signal is a Bat."

"No, he's not."

"He is ." Cass latched onto Duke's other arm. "He belongs here. To us. Stop making him feel like he doesn't."

"It's not about belonging," Jason snapped. "It's about what's best for him. He'd do best far, far away from the likes of you ."

Cass yanked, sending a shock of pain up Duke's arm. He stumbled backwards into her grip. "Don't pretend you care about him. You just want to use him against us."

"And what about you? He's about to go to college, and not one of you has tried to support him! Did you know he's been keeping his school records from Bruce? Do you even think that's important?"

"No," Cass said, glaring up at Jason. "I don't."

"And you act like you love him. You—"

"Shut up." Duke shook himself free from Cass' grasp. "Both of you, shut up."

"Duke," she said, "don't listen to him, he—"

"It's okay, Cass." He turned to her. "I'm not going anywhere, alright? I'm not applying for college. And I'm probably gonna fail this year, but whatever. As you said, it doesn't matter."

Cass' mouth opened. "You're failing?"

"I told you," Jason said. "I told you you were messing him up."

"And why do you care?" Duke asked, whirling on him. "I'm not your brother, remember?"

Jason froze. "That's not—"

"I have to go," Duke said. "I'll see you guys later."

He turned invisible, sprinting until their figures vanished into specks of nothing. When he was a few blocks away, his phone buzzed. He opened the chat.

R-iko93: Duke??? You still there??

DaxAtax: C'mon, man, dre was just joking

DaxAtax: @Dukedom ?

IzzyOr3: hes gone

Dre-B: yeah

Dre-B: hes pretty good at that

****

all half and no whole

all skin and no bones

all of me is not fine

all of me is not mine

Duke dashed his pencil across the paper, tearing the words in two. He ripped the page from his notebook and crumpled it, hurling the wad off the roof. The wind swept the ball towards the trees.

He pressed his face into his knees and groaned.

"Thomas?"

"Hi," he said into his pants.

Damian's light footsteps pattered closer. "It's dinnertime. Father is asking for you."

"Tell him I'm busy."

"Very well." A shuffling sound, the swoosh of fabric. "Then I am busy, too."

Duke lifted his head. Damian was sitting next to him, looking at the grassy expanse of lawn below. "You should go eat," Duke said. "You don't need to stay with me."

"How bad is it?"

"7 or 8," Duke said. Maybe a 9, but he couldn't say that. The last 9-day he'd had was after a particularly awful visit to his parents.

"Let's go get ice cream."

"You always say that."

"It always works, does it not?"

"I don't think ice cream's gonna do the trick this time." Duke rested his cheek on his knee. "I know your upbringing was, uh, unconventional, but do you ever—do you miss it? Who you were, before you came here?"

"I was nothing before I came here."

"That's not true," Duke said. "You were a cool assassin kid with a cool assassin mom."

Damian fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Most people think my childhood was awful. They think Mother was awful."

"What do you think?"

"I don't—" He bit his lip. "I know the League is evil, and that Mother made mistakes. But I didn't hate everything. I didn't hate her."

"People love to assume things," Duke said. "They're almost always wrong."

"Is that—were you thinking of your parents, Thomas?"

"Not exactly. You remember the We Are Robin movement, right? Izzy and the others. I ran into Izzy and Riko recently, and I guess I just... I don't know. It was nice seeing them again, but it's not the same. Maybe it never will be."

"Is that such a bad thing?" Damian asked. "Just because things are different doesn't mean they're worse. You don't have to leave them behind. Perhaps you should reach out to them, schedule a time to meet."

"Ugh, I don't know. It'd be so awkward."

"If you want," Damian said, "I wouldn't mind coming along."

Duke sat up. "You'd do that? For me?"

"Who else?"

He flung his arms around Damian, holding him tight. "Thank you."

"Whatever," Damian grumbled, but he leaned his head against Duke's shoulder.

****

"It just makes no sense."

Tim slumped over his laptop. Damian, standing on a crate, reached out a finger and poked Tim in the forehead. "Have you been getting enough sleep, Drake?"

"How can I sleep when the trace won't go through?" Tim bolted upright, slammed the enter key, and then slumped again. "I haven't been stumped like this since I challenged Barbara to that hackathon."

"Perhaps we should just ask Gordon."

"Oh, yes, let's tell Barbara, who'll tell Dick, who'll tell Bruce, and guess who'll be benched for the next month?"

Damian scowled. "Father can be so unreasonable."

"Hear, hear."

The murder boat swayed slightly from side to side. Duke frowned at the laptop, the pieces shifting in his mind. Sometimes, riddles required not just a blank slate, but a new way of thinking. If brute-forcing a trace wasn't working, the solution must lie somewhere subtler.

"Tim," he said, "can you go to the Batrons tab on Birdwatchers?"

Tim complied. A forum sprang up, white posts popping out against a bat-patterned background. The posts were sorted by recency, with the top post reading SEEKING BATGIRLS FIC CENTERED ON LAST WEEK'S SCUFFLE IN BOWERY. $20 ON DELIVERY. The other posts followed a similar pattern, naming the person, event, and price of the fic.

"Click on one," Duke said. Tim chose the top post, and after a description of what the fic should entail, there was a space to put an account handle and contact information. "There. Let's put our account name."

"We're taking a commission?" Tim's eyes brightened. "Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of it sooner?"

"Think of what?" Damian asked.

"The money," Duke said. "Whoever's doing this has to transfer the money to us somehow. If we can't trace the website itself, we might be able to trace the transfer."

"Money stinks," Tim said, quoting one of Bruce's oft-repeated truisms.

He typed in their information and pressed submit. Damian leaned forward, trying to see the screen. He put too much weight on his toes and the crate slid back, causing him to pitch forward and face-plant onto Tim's desk.

Tim burst into hysterical laughter.

Damian reared backwards. He turned and leapt onto the crate, but the force shattered the wood, sending fragments flying everywhere. Damian squealed and jumped onto Duke's back.

"Save me, Thomas!" Damian cried. "These floors are covered in Drake's germs."

Duke instinctively caught Damian's legs, feeling Damian's arms loop around his neck. "I can't believe you and Jason aren't related. You're both the biggest drama queens I've ever met."

"I am not a drama queen! Have you seen Drake's bedroom in the manor? Pennyworth once found month-old food containers underneath one of his jackets."

"In my defence, there was a little food left," Tim said.

"How is that in your defence? " Duke asked.

"Because I was gonna eat it?"

Duke wrinkled his nose. "Oh god. I'm gonna have to get a crate, too. And a hazmat suit."

"Make that two hazmat suits," Damian said.

"This is hom*ophobia," Tim declared. "You two are hom*ophobic."

"What, 'cause I'm Black?"

Damian gasped. "I can't believe you, Drake."

"God!" Tim threw his hands up. "I can never win this game, can I?"

"Nope." Duke tossed a grin over his shoulder. "What should we ask for this time?"

"I want a pony."

"A pony and two hazmat suits, please. The least you could do, given how much your ancestors stole from mine."

Tim thunked his head onto his desk. "I used to be an only child. I used to love life."

"C'mon, Damian," Duke said, carrying him across the room. "Let's work on the fic, and leave the coloniser to his brooding."

"Only a fraction of the suffering he's inflicted upon others," Damian said solemnly.

They shut the door and stood on the other side, snickering as loudly as possible. Tim's groans sounded clear through the wood.

****

The Batgirls walk under the glittering beautiful sky of the Bowery. The purple-suited one turns to the black-suited one, gazing into her eyes (A/N: behind the mask, of course).

"I'm hungry," declares purple Batgirl. "I want waffles!"

"I'll get you waffles," black Batgirl says sweetly, "after we take down Black Mask."

"What's he up to, anyway?"

"There are new shipments of weapons tonight. We have to put a stop to it," explains Batgirl methodically. "I caught a glimpse of his maps with my super binoculars." (A/N: this is real!! I saw it myself with my own two orbs.)

The Batgirls leap off the roof, capes flaring out majestically like twin phoenixes rising from the ashes. They dart sneakily into the unlighted warehouse and... DUN DUN DUN!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed this cliffhanger!! The Batgirls are sooo underappreciated, purple Batgirl's love for waffles is so iconic it's basically her only trait!! And the other Batgirl can do no wrong. Pls like, comment, and kudos if you enjoyed <3333.

@theonetrueheir: Reading this made me want to beat you up. You write like you're ugly irl. I bet you shatter mirrors the same way you shatter the English language, you utter disgrace to humanity.

@batfamatic: bro :(

****

Duke adjusted his seat belt, sinking into the leather seat. Bruce glanced at him in the rear-view mirror.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," Duke said. "Again, you don't have to take us all the way there. Just drop us off a block away."

Damian looked up from his phone. "Why? We're already in the car."

"I know, but—nevermind." Duke sank lower, trying to avoid the curious stares from passers-by. He'd told Bruce to pick an inconspicuous car, but apparently inconspicuous for Bruce Wayne meant a Lamborghini instead of a Ferrari.

They pulled up in front of Sunny's Deli. Izzy was already there, hair tied back in a loose ponytail. She wore jeans and a denim jacket, the same outfit she'd worn for their six-month anniversary, two weeks before he'd broken up with her. Duke slid low enough for his knees to hit the back of Bruce's seat.

"Thank you, Father," Damian said, unclipping his seat belt.

"Call me when you're done," Bruce said. He turned around and smiled at Duke. "You could bring them over too, you know. I'm ordering pizza tonight."

"I'll think about it," Duke said. He shoved the door open.

A small crowd was gathering around them. Fame still gave Duke the hives, but at least everyone seemed more interested in Bruce. He slipped through the throng and arrived at Izzy's side.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks for coming."

"It's the first time you've asked to hang out in ages. Why wouldn't I come?"

"Yeah, um. Right."

"Thomas?" Damian materialised at his elbow. "These people are getting on my nerves. We should go somewhere more private."

"Hey, Damian," Izzy said. "Nice to see you again."

Damian nodded. "I hope you've been well, Ortiz."

"You can call me Izzy, you know. That formal crap's kinda creepy."

"It is?" Damian asked, frowning.

"Damian only calls a few people by their first name," Duke said. "Like, if they're part of his inner circle."

"Ah. Inner circle."

Damian tugged on Duke's sleeve. "Can we move somewhere now?"

"Once Riko gets here."

As if on cue, Riko rushed forward from the crowd. "Sorry I'm late! The train was delayed."

"The B line?" Duke asked.

"Yeah, and I transferred from the orange line."

"Damn," Izzy said. "The worst commute."

"Not worse than the silver line during construction," Duke said.

Izzy and Riko both shuddered.

"The silver line goes from Fort to West," Izzy said to Damian.

Damian bristled. "I know where the silver line goes. I have memorised a map of the subway."

The crowd around them were whispering, some of their phones flashing white. "We should get out of here," Duke said. He grabbed Damian's hand and pulled him inside Sunny's Deli.

An old-fashioned light bulb dangled above them, washing the aisles in orange. Sunny nodded off behind the counter, his beard brushing the top of the cash register. The air was thick and musty.

"Oh man," Izzy said, "this place takes me back."

"Best sandwiches in the Narrows, right?"

"Corner Café's better."

Duke drew in an exaggerated breath. "You take that back."

"Make me," she said, putting her hands on her hips.

"Ew," Riko said. "Get a room."

Duke grinned, letting go of Damian's hand to stand next to Izzy. Even after everything, being with her was comfortable. Like slipping on a well-worn pair of shoes, every part fitting just right.

She tilted her head at Sunny. "Should we wake him up?"

"That's rude," Riko said. "He's probably had a long day."

"Let's give him a few minutes," Duke said.

Beside a row of fridges, a few folding chairs circled a dirty table. They took their seats, Riko on Duke's right, Izzy on his left. Damian hovered over his chair, scrunching his nose.

"Has this been sanitised?"

Izzy snorted. "We're not in Bristol, kid."

"I am not a kid."

"Aren't you 12?" Riko asked.

"14," Damian bit out. He sat down stiffly. "Is there where you used to hang out, Thomas?"

"Sometimes. My mom used to take me here. And us Robins hung out here, a few times."

"Remember Dax and the marshmallows?" Izzy asked.

Riko giggled. "Even Dre was impressed, and Dre's not impressed by anything."

"Yeah, 'cause he's an asshole," Duke said.

"Don't pay attention to what he said on the chat," Riko said, leaning forward. "You know how he gets. But is it really true, that Red Hood's eyes glow?"

"Nah," Duke said, "but glowing eyes are cool, aren't they?"

" So cool."

Duke shot Damian a smug look. "Told you."

"Swords are cooler," Damian muttered.

"Ah! You really are just like they say you are," Riko said, eyes sparkling.

Damian's brow furrowed. "How they say I am?"

"In the fics." She clasped her hands together. "All stabby and feral and adorable. Hey, do you actually bite people? I've read a few fics where you do that."

"I do not," Damian said. He gripped the table.

"How about your collection of knives? Do you actually—"

Damian shot to his feet. "I have to go to the bathroom. Please excuse me." He walked to the back of the store.

"This place doesn't have a bathroom, right?" Izzy asked.

Duke frowned. "No. I should go check on him."

"You really care about him, don't you?"

"Well, yeah. He's cool."

"I like him," she said. "We should hang out more. All of us."

Riko lit up. "Like old times?"

"Like old times," Izzy said, grinning at her. "What do you say, Duke? I know you're not a Robin anymore, but for old times' sake? We could throw a proper birthday party this time, since Dax is turning 18."

He wanted to say yes. That was the problem—wanting it. Sometimes we don't get what we want. Sometimes it's for the best . Because his house was a manor, now, the kitchen a million corridors down, his parents' bedroom miles and miles away. Because to get anywhere, he had to run.

"That sounds nice," Duke said slowly. "But I'm kinda busy, so I'll have to check if I'm free. And—"

Izzy slammed her hands on the table. "God. You're full of sh*t, Duke Thomas."

"Izzy," Riko said, eyes wide.

"Don't act like you're fine with this." Her hands curled into fists. "You know he's making excuses. You know if he wanted to hang with us, he'd find time."

"Maybe it's complicated."

"Then why doesn't he say something? Why don't you say something, Duke?"

"Does it matter?" Duke asked.

"Does it—are you kidding me? What is your f*cking problem?"

"What's yours?" Heat rose in his chest. "You've all been so weird to me since I joined Batman. What do you want from me, Izzy? To quit being Signal? To go back to a dead movement, started by a guy who's also dead now?"

"This isn't about the movement."

"What's it about, then?"

" Us! You and me and everyone that's left. You act like you never met us. You don't even remember Troy, do you?"

"Don't you dare," Duke said. "Don't you dare . You have no idea what I remember, or how I feel."

"Because you don't let me. I thought we—god, I thought you cared about me. But you abandoned us, Duke. You don't care about anyone but yourself."

"Don't talk to him like that."

Damian's voice cut through the air. He was standing by the fridge, face twisted with anger.

"Stay out of this," Izzy said.

"You were lucky to have him on your team, Ortiz. He was far above any of you. Don't blame him for realising how inferior you all are."

Riko jumped up. "You don't get to talk to us like that. We were just as good as you. We were Robins."

"You were imposters," Damian sneered. "Kids playing dress-up. You didn't deserve Thomas then, and you don't deserve him now."

"And you think you deserve him, short stack? Y'know what the streets call you? The uncontrollable Robin. The off-his-rocker Robin, the Robin Bats can't leave without supervision—"

Damian lunged. They crashed to the ground, Damian grabbing Izzy's shirt and pinning her to the floor. "Shut up. Shut up! "

"What's going on here?" They froze. Sunny was wide awake, face like a thundercloud behind the counter. "If you're gonna scrap, take it outside. No one's dirtying this place unless you can pay for it."

"We're very sorry," Duke said, hoisting Damian off of Izzy. He didn't resist. "C'mon, guys."

They made their way outside. The air was brisk and bitter, threatening another Gotham winter. He kept a grip on Damian's sleeve while Riko hovered around Izzy.

"Maybe we should cool down a bit," Riko said. "There's an ice cream place around the corner. I'm sure—"

"Get into an enclosed space with that thing?" Izzy said, jabbing a thumb at Damian. "No thanks. I'm outta here."

"Good riddance," Damian hissed.

She glared at him, then at Duke. "This the kid you left us for, huh? Birds of a feather."

She crossed the street without waiting for the light. Riko glanced between her and Duke, worrying her lip. She called out, "wait!", and ran after Izzy. They disappeared into the crowd.

Duke let go of Damian's sleeve. "Why did you do that?"

"I—what?" Damian frowned. "She was insulting you. I was protecting—"

"I don't need your protection," Duke snapped. He was sick of it. Sick of everyone telling him who he was, and what he needed, and how he was always coming up short. "You don't know me. You or Jason or Cass. You guys don't understand anything."

"I do know you." Damian jutted out his chin. "I know you well enough to know you don't need them anymore. I was wrong about reaching out to them, before. It's better if you leave them behind."

"Then what, Damian? Who do I have left? Bruce? My f*cking parents?"

"You have me, and Drake, and Grayson—"

"Are you serious?" Duke yelled. "Do you think that's enough? "

Damian went pale. Then red flooded back into his face, his gaze darkening. "Fine. You want to leave the manor? Go back to them?"

"When did I say—"

"Go, then!" Damian shoved him. "See if I care! I never wanted you here in the first place. You don't fit, and everybody knows it, Thomas! Nobody has ever wanted you around!"

Duke swung. His fist crashed into Damian's cheek, his knuckle hitting bone. Damian staggered back and clutched his face. Duke couldn't see if that was a bruise forming—his vision was too blurry.

"I'm glad you got that out in the open," Duke said, his throat sore. "I sure as hell don't want you either. Not as a brother. Not as someone in my life. I'm glad we're on the same page."

He turned invisible and ran.

****

If his mom was lucid, she would probably say something along the lines of, did you really punch a 14-year-old? And Duke would reply, he's not just a 14-year-old, he's Robin . She might laugh. She might frown. Or she might look at him and say, what is your f*cking problem?

At the moment, his problem was Gotham. There was nowhere to go. The manor was out of the question. Jason wasn't an option, either—they hadn't spoken since the incident with Cass. Leslie and Luke were out of town. He had no school friends to speak of, and anyone connected to We Are Robin would probably laugh in his face.

So here he was, swinging down on the marina. The murder boat bobbed in the waves, light shining from the windows. He hopped onto the deck and grasped the doorknob.

As he pushed the door open, a series of observations flitted through his head. One, the digital clock on the mantelpiece said it was Thursday. Two, an unfamiliar coat hung from the coat rack. Three, though this was more a fact than an observation, Dick and Tim had dinner together on Thursdays.

He stood in the doorway and stared at Dick Grayson. Dick stared back.

"Duke?" He put his phone down, getting up from the couch.

"Where's Tim?"

"Funny story," Dick said. "So he was supposed to cook tonight, and I reminded him multiple times to get the ingredients, but when I showed up half an hour ago—"

Tim wasn't here. Somehow, that was the final straw. Duke covered his face and started to cry.

"Duke? Oh, god, Duke—"

He collapsed against the door frame, sobs shaking through his body. When he'd first come to the manor, he'd resolved to never cry in front of them. But what did it matter? Damian was right, after all. He would never fit.

A pair of arms wrapped around him. Duke stopped crying long enough to shove Dick away, scrambling backwards on the floor.

"Don't," Duke said. "I don't need your pity."

"I wasn't pitying," Dick said. His voice was calm, gentle. "I do that to all my brothers."

"I am not your brother."

Silence. Duke buried his head in his knees, sniffling into the fabric of his jeans.

"Okay. Well, I'm also a social worker by day and a vigilante by night, so it's my job to take care of people, brother or not. You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I also don't want you to spend the night sobbing on Tim's floor. He's a slob, you know."

Dick really wasn't going to leave him alone. Unless— "I punched Damian," he said.

Another stretch of silence. Then, "why?"

"Does it matter? I hurt your precious baby brother."

"Duke," Dick said drily, "basically everyone in this family has hurt each other. Hell, Cass and Jason were full-on brawling yesterday. Wouldn't even tell me what they were fighting about. Point being, if you thought that confession was gonna make me leave, you have another thing coming."

Duke pressed himself against the wall. "You can't do anything."

"I can try."

"But what's the point?" Duke snapped his head up, locking eyes with Dick. "What's the point of trying? Nothing ever gets better. My parents won't get better. Gotham won't get better. Izzy will never forgive me, I'll never get over myself enough to patch things up with Riko and Dax, I don't even know what me and Bruce are, and Damian—what he needs is someone put together, like you and Tim. Me? I'm f*cked up. And I'm never getting better."

He slid down the wall, energy spent. Dick's expression was sympathetic, and god, he wanted to punch all that sympathy off his face. See? f*cked up. He slammed his head against the wall.

"That was a lot," Dick said, and Duke nearly threw a shoe at him. "Sorry. I don't know what to say."

"Great. Thanks."

"But that proves you wrong, doesn't it? I'm not put together. Neither is Bruce. Or Tim, for that matter. Being f*cked up is basically a requirement to be in this family." Dick's sympathy melted into something stickier, something harder to define. "It doesn't mean we should give up."

"Oh, sure, you guys are messed up. But you're messed up together. You love each other. You fit. And I don't—I don't know—" Duke gripped his knees. "It's like part of me's broken or something. I know how to care about people, I know I do care about people, but I can't do it. I can't let myself. Every time I get close, I get all itchy, and I just want to run."

"Huh."

Duke yanked his shoe off and hurled it at Dick's head.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"I just told you some deeply traumatising sh*t, and the most you can say is huh ?"

"I'm thinking," Dick said, grabbing the shoe and tossing it back at Duke. "I'm thinking about how to say 'me too' without making it all about myself."

"You—too?"

"In case you forgot, I'm from the circus," Dick said. "I was always in motion. Then my parents died, and they put me in this crappy orphanage, and I spent every night breaking out of there to find Zucco. It was only when Bruce found me that I slowed down. It wasn't easy, though. B can tell you that much."

"You were in an orphanage?"

"Yeah. Not for long, but I was." Dick shifted an inch closer. "Look, our situations are by no means the same, but I get it. When you lose people early on, when you're put in an unstable situation, you get used to running. And you were running for a long time. It's not your fault you're still used to it."

"It feels like my fault." Duke scraped his nails across the floorboards. "It feels like all I do is disappoint people. Izzy wants me to go back to the way I was, but I can't. Jason wants me to keep my distance from you guys, but I can't. Damian wants me to stay, but I—I don't know. I feel half-here and half-not. I don't belong anywhere."

"So?"

Duke glared. "Do you want me to throw the second shoe?"

"Hear me out," Dick said, holding his hands up. "People are gonna tell you to pick sides. To choose whether to stay or go. To pick one person over the other. That's the way most people see family and connections—to them, it's all binary. But Duke, believe me, it's not. My mom used to say that love's like a net. It can take as many people, as many places, as many cultures as you want. As you want. Not anyone else."

Dick smiled at him. "The fact that you're struggling means there's so many people you love, and so many people who love you. You don't have to sacrifice any of them, Duke. You don't have to please all of them either. Part of loving someone means accepting that they'll disappoint you, sometimes."

"Is that why you won't stay with Damian?"

Dick's smile faltered. "It's not—the manor's not my home anymore. I love him, but I can't—I can't stay for him. It's just not who I am."

"Oh," Duke said. "I thought it was just you being an asshole."

"Hey!"

"Which you still are. But, um. I guess I understand now." Duke tilted his head. "They expect so much from you, don't they? Damian and Tim. It must be hard."

"I'm always disappointing them," Dick said, sighing. "But it's either that or I get swallowed up in what they think of me. In the circus, we had a saying: care about your audience, but don't listen to them. People only see the stuff you show them. If you believe what people think of you, even the people you love, you'll lose yourself."

"But I don't want to keep hurting them," Duke said. "How do I balance it? Staying true to myself, but also making them happy?"

"When I figure it out, I'll let you know."

"Wow. Great advice." Duke hesitated. "Dick? I'm sorry if I, uh, haven't been very nice to you."

"You don't really like me, do you?"

"You did abandon me on that rooftop."

Dick winced. "Right. I forgot."

"You—of course you did," Duke said, slapping his legs. "Am I that forgettable? Is that why no one writes fanfictions about me?"

"What?"

"Nothing." He huffed. "Okay, maybe something. It's not just you guys. It feels like Gotham doesn't even think of me as a Bat."

"Is this about the weird stuff goons have been saying recently?"

Duke shrugged. "Not just recently. I've always been an afterthought, to them. I mean, I don't patrol with any of you. I'm not even adopted—not that I want to be, but I'm Bruce's only ward, so—"

"Hey, man, don't knock wardship. I was his ward for over a decade."

Duke's jaw dropped. "I thought you've always been adopted."

"Common assumption," Dick said, grinning. "But a wrong one."

"Oh god. We have so much in common, don't we?" He gagged into his hand.

"Now you're just being rude."

"Look on the bright side," Duke said. "My expectations of you are so low, you'll never disappoint me."

Dick startled them both with his laughter. "You're really something, you know that? But, uh, thanks. It actually does mean a lot. And same goes for you. If you ever need someone to be f*cked up with, my door's always open."

As soon as Dick finished his sentence, the door to the boat flung open. Tim walked in, nose buried in his phone, dumping a bag of groceries into Dick's lap. Only when he nearly tripped over Duke's foot did he look up.

"Duke?" His eyes widened. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Duke wiped his cheeks. "I'm fine. Sort of."

"Did—" Tim whirled around, stepping between him and Dick. "Did you say something to him?"

"Why'd you assume it was me?" Dick said, pouting.

"He didn't do anything," Duke said. The way Tim stepped between them, immediate and protective—his chest was warm. "Hey, Tim. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said, turning back around.

Duke had a laundry list of questions: did you mean it, when you said you adored me? Would you forgive me if I hurt you? If I changed, would you love me anyway?

What came out of his mouth was, "would you still love me if I was a worm?"

"Are you kidding?" Tim scoffed. "If you were a worm, I'd design something to turn you back into a human. Unless you liked being a worm, in which case I'd design a state-of-the-art terrarium and you could live with me here. I'd also invent a machine so that we could communicate. So that I could say yes, idiot, I love you, every single day if I have to."

Duke teared up. Dick stared into the bag of groceries and muttered, "am I getting old?"

****

He ended up staying for dinner and then, after Dick left, staying the night. Tim lent him some pyjamas and they built a blanket fort in his bedroom, barely large enough for both of them to squeeze under. They lay on their stomachs and watched Spider-Man YouTube poop videos on Tim's laptop.

"Where do you find these?" Duke asked, hiccuping with laughter.

"I was alone a lot when I was younger," Tim said. "Had a lot of spare time."

"Wait, is that neglectful parent stuff actually true?"

Tim snorted. "No. They weren't the best, sure, but they weren't comically bad. And Dad tried, towards the end."

"Do you miss them?"

"Everyday."

Duke looked at him. "You know, you could just say that, instead of hinting at it in a roundabout way in fanfic tags."

"And you, Duke? Do you talk about your problems, or do you just wait until they explode?"

"Point taken."

"I'm gonna get some snacks," Tim said. "Pick the next video while I'm gone."

He shimmied out of the fort. Duke idly clicked about YouTube, nothing catching his eye. Wait, was Tim logged into Amazon? He'd never gotten those hazmat suits. Duke opened another tab and typed in a in the search bar.

The computer auto-filled the link to archiveofourown.org. For a second, Duke hesitated. Fanfictions were personal things, and he really shouldn't intrude in Tim's business. He had to respect other people's property. Human rights and all that.

Oh, screw it. Duke pressed the enter key.

Tim's username popped up in the corner: Hi, dickgraysonslonglostbrother! Duke clicked on his most popular fic, published a couple years ago with the title The Replacement.

Robin flew through the air, but not with the greatest of ease. He did three flips (not four) and landed rather harshly on his ankle.

"Batman," Robin cried, "I hurt my leg!"

Batman was in no mood for this today. He snapped, "the first Robin could've made that jump."

"Yes, I know," said Robin. "I'll never compare to him."

"Damn right," Batman growled.

It was no secret that the second Robin was inferior in every way to the first. The first Robin was light, grace, and beauty; the second Robin was weird and ugly. All the Gothamites clamoured for the return of the first Robin. When, oh when, will the prodigal son return?

Comments:

@girliepop: omg this is the origin of the No Beta We Die Like The Second Robin tag??? How'd you know he was gonna die?? Did you manifest it???

@dickgraysonslonglostbrother: yea that was unfortunate i just wanted him to retire whoops

@girliepop: Now there's a third Robin, not as good as the second imo

@dickgraysonslonglostbrother: r u stupid

"I got some popcorn, chocolate, and—" Tim let out the loudest shriek Duke had ever heard. "What are you doing ?"

"You wrote Jason hate fics? You actually—" Duke dissolved into laughter.

Tim dived onto him, spilling the snacks everywhere. "You can't tell anyone! If Jason finds out, he's actually going to kill me."

"You invented the second Robin death tag," he continued, gasping for air. "Oh my god. You are, like, the original hater."

"I didn't know he was actually going to die!"

"But you didn't take it down?"

"It's a decent read," Tim said sulkily.

"Oh, man, I can't wait to tell Damian." And just like that his good mood was over. He sat up, running his fingers over his knuckles. "Crap. I have to talk to Damian."

"What happened?"

"I, uh." Duke hugged his elbows. "We got into a fight. A bad one."

"Did he try to kill you?"

"No?"

"Then it couldn't have been that bad," Tim said. He patted Duke's shoulder. "He loves you a lot, you know. I wasn't great to him at the beginning, and neither was Bruce. We didn't really understand him. Even Dick, I think, had a bit of a learning curve. But you? You always got him. Since you moved into the manor, he's been—calmer. Happier, even."

"But he said he didn't—" Duke swallowed. "He said he doesn't want me around."

"Right, 'cause one of his many virtues is honesty."

"I said stuff to him too, though," Duke said. "I tried to hurt him. What if there's no fixing that?"

"The first time we met, he tried to kill me. I also put him on a quote-on-quote hit list. If there's one thing our family's good at, it's forgiving bullsh*t." Tim nodded at the laptop. "I mean, I still think Jason's a Grade-A loser, but he did inspire some great fics. I'll always love him for that."

"You're so weird," Duke said, laying his head on Tim's shoulder.

"We're all weird," Tim said. "Including you, you overgrown lightbulb."

"Ancient Robin."

"Dignified glow-stick."

"Condom cowl."

"You weren't even there for that!"

****

The manor was quiet as Duke dismounted his bike. Bruce was at work, and Cass hadn't swung by in a while. Duke slipped through the entrance and mounted the stairs, the carpet muffling his footsteps. Damian's bedroom was at the end of the corridor.

He knocked on the wood. "Damian? It's me."

"Go away."

"I just want to talk."

"Well, I don't."

Duke frowned. "Let me in."

"No."

"If you don't, I'll kick the door down."

"You wouldn't."

Duke rolled up his sleeves and said, "you better stand back."

"Don't actually—"

His foot crashed into the wood, slamming the door open. Damian, still in his pyjamas, gawked at him from his desk.

"Told you," Duke said.

"Father will make you do a week's worth of chores for that."

"Worth it, to talk to you."

Damian looked down. "There's nothing to say. I've said all I needed to."

"Then you meant it?" Duke asked, heart beating hard against his rib cage. "You want me gone?"

"Does it matter what I want?"

"It matters to me."

Damian swivelled around, turning back to his notebook. "You're going to leave anyway, whether I want you to or not."

"Why do you think I—"

"Because you will! Because everyone does." His voice trembled, and oh, he was crying. Tears splashed into Damian's lap. "I'm not stupid, Thomas. I know I'm not easy to be around. So just leave."

Duke stepped inside the room, avoiding the splinters. "Damian. Can you look at me?"

"No."

"Fine. Just listen, then." Duke took a deep breath. All the past weeks, months, years slid like puzzle pieces in his mind. Slotting together to form a long, winding road. He'd been on the run for so long. But here, in this bedroom, drawings of cats and dogs and superheroes on the walls—here, with a kid he might just possibly love more than anyone else in the world—he was so tired of running. "I'm staying, Damian," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Damian stilled.

"I don't know what I want," he continued, blinking away his own tears. "I mean, I know what I want. I want my parents to be okay again. I want to go back to them, to the way it was before. But I can't do that. So what I want now, I guess—I think I want to be here. I think I want to be here with you."

"You can't mean that," Damian said, looking up. His eyes were red. "I'm not—I'm not worth it."

"Of course you are."

"But I'm feral." He shrunk into himself. "Uncontrollable. All I do is hurt people, and all they do is leave. Even the people who love me. Mother and Father. Jon. Richard. I'll never be enough." He covered his face with his hands.

"Is this about what Izzy said?"

"Everyone says it. It's in all those fanfictions," Damian grumbled.

Duke came over, hopping onto the desk. He gently pried Damian's hands away from his face. "Damian," he said, "those people think I'm sane. They think Stephanie is a walking waffle advertisem*nt, and they think Jason gets Pit Rage. They don't know a thing about us. They never have."

"But Drake says it," Damian said quietly. "And Todd. And Father trusts you to be completely alone during the daytime, but he never—he always keeps an eye on me."

"That's because Tim and Jason are self-admitted assholes. They don't actually believe that stuff, though. Tim loves you. If you told him that stuff bothers you, he'd stop. Jason might not, but he would take a bullet for you any day." Duke squeezed Damian's hands. "And Bruce keeps an eye on you because you're his son. His baby. I'm not like you, so I get to be alone. You—you mean so much to him."

"You mean a lot to him, too."

"I guess."

Damian sniffed. "You were always—you were never afraid of me. Even before you knew who I was. And you—ask. About Mother. About how I feel." He drew his hands away, putting them in his lap. "I was lying. I don't want you to go, Thomas. I want to be your brother."

"I—" Duke cleared his throat. "You're not feral, Damian. You're brave, and good, and kind. I want to be your brother, too. Because you make me happy. Because I love you."

Damian hurled himself at Duke, burrowing into his chest. Duke returned the hug, squeezing with all his might. Damian Wayne. His little brother. He pressed his face into Damian's hair and smiled.

****

Signal and Robin take their positions under the moonlit sky. The soft breeze of Gotham night wraps around them, a crow winging above them slow, slow. Most of the time Gotham is ugly, a stain upon the Earth. Once in a while it is beautiful.

"Here," Signal says, handing Robin his ice cream cone. "Chocolate. Your favourite."

"Thank you," Robin says. He swings his legs over the bleating midnight traffic.

A star crosses the black expanse above them, arcing down and vanishing into mist. Signal closes his eyes and wishes to stay in this moment, forever. With his brother. That is enough.

A/N: This is about you. You know who you are. I love you.

Comments:

@theonetrueheir: Not bad. The writing is passable for once, and the characterisations are solid. 7/10.

Edit: and I love you too

@redrobinyum: This is lame as hell.

@batfamatic: condom cowl

@theonetrueheir: condom cowl

@redrobinyum: SHUT UP

****

Duke gazed through the binoculars, zooming in on the warehouse. A couple shadowy figures flitted across the broken window. He glanced at Tim, who was tapping away on his tablet.

"Should we move in?"

"Your call," Tim said. "You're the boss."

The Batron had finally deposited 20 dollars into Duke's bank account (which he'd spent on corn-dogs for the three of them). Tim had traced the transfer to Gareth Cho, a twenty-one-year-old Narrows native with a rap sheet full of petty thievery. They'd tailed him for a few hours, winding up at this warehouse near Duke's old apartment.

"Let's go," Duke said. "We'll stealth it."

He vanished from sight. Landing on the grass beside the warehouse, he watched the lights, finding the spot with the least people.

"This way," he whispered.

Tim and Damian followed him through a window in the right corner, slipping into the darkened interior. A group of people, mostly teens and young adults, gathered around a table under the lone spotlight. They were looking at a man at the head of the table, wearing shades and a peculiarly boxy jacket. A board criss-crossed with red string and paper stood behind the man.

"Our data collection from this week indicates the younger Robin will be a weak link," said the man. "Sources indicate he's been emotionally unstable. N and M, you'll target the banks along his route in the Bowery. Batgirl's leg is still off, but she has been patrolling with the other Batgirl, so we need to separate them."

"A waffle trap, boss?" asked Gareth Cho.

"Good idea. You can set that up."

"What about the yellow guy? Uh, Flashlight?"

The boss shook his head. "We don't have to worry about him. He's not a threat like the others."

Tim laughed. The sound echoed across the room, growing larger and more ominous with each passing second.

"Who—who's there?" Gareth squeaked.

Everyone at the table drew their weapons, a varying assortment of guns, knives, and baseball bats. Duke shifted some of the light to Tim, bathing him in a ghostly, unnatural aura.

"Robin!" The man in the boxy jacket stepped forward. "We don't want to fight."

"Me neither," Tim said, voice breaking. "I just got yelled at by Batman. Nobody loves me. I just—I just want to be loved ."

He crumpled, sobbing into his hands. Tim was scarily good at faking a breakdown. Duke added that to his growing list of Concerns About Tim Drake.

Half of the group rushed to Robin's side, murmuring affirmations and tossing him a couple of therapy cards. As Tim kept them occupied, Damian snuck up to the table, Duke covering him with shadows. He parted the darkness and Damian crouched, sword in hand, in his best approximation of a sleep paralysis monster.

The two people closest to him screamed, and the rest scattered.

"Oh my god, it's scary Robin!" A girl shrieked.

Tim stopped crying and grinned. He pounced on his group, swiping aside the cards and tackling them with ruthless efficiency. Damian didn't even need to attack—several of them had fainted from the mere sight of his sword. As the warehouse rang with screams, Duke rushed towards the man at the head of the table.

"Hey," he said, turning visible. "It's Signal. As in, this is a signal you're in some deep sh*t."

He kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying into the board. The man groaned amongst the wreckage of strings and paper. Duke knelt by his head, holding an escrima stick to his neck.

"You're the head of the Yellowguards, aren't you?" Duke asked. "And the ringleader of this Batrons business."

The man spat out a dribble of blood. "You're smarter than you look."

"And you're dumber than I thought possible," he said. "What's with the fanfiction stuff? Did you seriously think that'd be a good idea?"

"You got him, Signal?" Tim appeared at his side, holding a bunch of cards in his hand. "I'm gonna put one of these in every Bat vehicle. Drive B insane."

"Robin!" The man on the ground shifted, smiling. "At long last."

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Do I know you?"

"You were there at the origin," he said. "You were the forge from which I was birthed. I, Jackson White, otherwise known as Beta!"

"Huh?" Tim asked.

Beta growled. "You arrested me once, remember? For car-jacking? You and these hooligans with you. You used Gen Alpha slang on me?"

"Ah," Tim said, face clearing. "You're one of the car-jackers from Stage One. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"You made me find my calling. Seeing you use those brilliant tactics, I realised I had been going about villainy all wrong. What ties together great villains such as the Joker and the Riddler? One word: innovation. To combat a genius like you, Robin, I realised I would have to tap into my own genius. Thus I became Beta—the second option, the wild card!"

Tim sighed. "I hate Gotham."

"I am your Joker! Your dark mirror! Your—"

"Robin," Tim called.

Damian bounded over to them. "Who's this?"

"Beta."

"Hm." Damian put his hands on his hips. "Beta male."

Beta choked. "That's not what my name means!"

"Beta cuck."

"Stop!" Beta lifted his hand, in which was nestled a remote. "You fools. I anticipated you would come for me sooner or later, so I rigged this place to blow. I just activated the trigger!"

"You activated the trigger while you're still inside?" Duke asked.

"Um." Beta paled. "Oh god. Save me, please! We need each other, Robin! I complete you!"

"How much time do we have?" Tim demanded.

"Ten seconds?"

"Ten— are you kidding me? "

"Wow," Duke said. "Really didn't think I was gonna die today."

"Father will bring us back," Damian said, patting Duke's back.

Tim pressed his hands to his eyes. "Ugh. Hood is gonna tease me so bad for dying in a warehouse explosion."

"Nobody is dying tonight."

They stiffened. Batman emerged from the shadows, holding a bomb in one hand and handcuffs in the other. He grunted for them to move aside, handcuffing Beta and tossing him over his shoulder.

"Hey, B," Duke said. "I'm out here because—"

"Get in the car."

Oh no. They were in so much trouble.

****

Duke shifted from one foot to the other. The Batcave air felt unusually stifling, the lights harsher than usual. Beside him, Damian stared at the floor. Tim didn't seem too bothered, though, yawning into his hand.

"I'm sorry, Timmy," said Jason, "are we boring you?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"You little—"

"Enough." Batman pinched his nose. The others fanned out behind him, Cass and Dick to his right, Stephanie and Jason to his left. "Please explain what you were doing tonight, and why you did not report your activities to Oracle."

"We were fighting crime?"

Batman gave Duke his signature Batglare.

"It has something to do with this," Stephanie said. She lifted their A3 piece of planning paper.

Tim gasped. "Steph, you traitor."

"Sorry, but as I said, this is too chaotic even for me." She shook the paper. "They drew these before all the rumours started. Me eating waffles? Jason's glowing eyes? Dick being stupid? It's downright creepy."

Duke gulped. "What if I said it was a crime-fighting strategy?"

Various groans rose up around the room.

"Explain," Bruce said, his fingers still pinching his nose.

"Well, you see, my friend Riko showed me this thing called AO3. It's a fanfiction website. You guys know fanfiction?"

A look of horror dawned on Stephanie's face, while everyone else just looked confused.

"Fanfiction is any story written by amateurs about prior media or real people," Tim said. "There's quite a lot of it online. AO3 is the biggest current platform."

"Right," Duke said. "So Jason noticed that criminals were saying weirdly personal stuff about him, and it happened to Damian, too. So I thought, y'know, there was something there. Me and Damian went to bust this guy called Ace Watkins, and we found out the criminals were reading fanfiction about us on AO3. That's where they were getting their information."

"Let me get this straight," Stephanie said. "You found out people were using fanfiction— somehow —to learn information about us, and you didn't just tell us?"

"Thomas had an idea," Damian said.

Their gazes turned to him. "In hindsight it wasn't the best plan," Duke said, "but I thought, if we have this opening, we might as well take advantage of it. So we brainstormed, uh, things to feed them. Misinformation, basically."

"I knew it!" Jason crowed. "I said something was afoot! Why doesn't anyone listen to me?"

"Maybe because you use words like afoot," Tim said.

"Duke." A chill ran down his spine. Bruce put his hands on Duke's shoulders, looking down at him. "I am—"

"I'm sorry," Duke blurted out. "I was being stupid. I know you expect better from me."

"—so proud of you," Bruce finished.

Duke blanched. Behind Bruce, Dick said, "excuse me?"

"You followed a thread none of us even noticed," Bruce said, "and you came up with an innovative solution. Moreover, there was no collateral damage, which is more than I can say for most of the others' plans."

"No collateral damage?" Stephanie cried. "People throw waffles at me all night long!"

"And you apprehended the suspect." Bruce squeezed Duke's shoulders. "You really are a gift to this city."

"Hold on. My plan to throw salad at Poison Ivy got me grounded for two weeks, but him writing fanfiction about us gets a you are a gift to the city ?" Dick said.

"That's because Duke is cooler than you," Jason said.

Cass nodded. "Duke is a gift to the city."

"Are you all out of your mind?" Stephanie said. "You're not going to give Duke any flack for this?"

Tim, Cass, and Jason shook their heads. Damian said, "Thomas did nothing wrong."

Duke beamed. "Thanks, guys."

Stephanie and Dick exchanged horrified glances. "He's got them," she said. "He's got them all. This is worse than Cass having Bruce wrapped around her finger."

"We're the only ones left," Dick said. He grasped her hand, and they glared at him.

Duke raised his hands. "Hey, I can't even continue. We took down Beta, the Yellowguards are scattered, and no one's paying for those fanfics anymore. The whole thing's over."

"Thank god," Stephanie said. "Bruce, I think we should ban Tim, Duke, and Damian from seeing each other. They're actually going to destroy Gotham one day."

"No, we won't," Duke said, clasping his hands together. Damian and Tim mirrored his pose.

Bruce's expression melted. "Of course not," he said, reaching out to ruffle Damian's hair. "Come on. Since we turned in early, let's get some ice cream."

As Bruce led them up the stairs, Dick turned to Stephanie and said, "we're so screwed." Stephanie nodded gravely.

****

As Duke pulled on his sneakers, the front door opened. Sunlight threaded around Cass' body, casting a long shadow on the floor. He paused.

"You looking for Bruce?"

"No," she said. She moved inside, the shadow shifting with her. "Have some time?"

"I was just going for a walk."

"Come with you."

They went out and down the lawn, the grass slick with dew. A few yellow flowers sprouted around their ankles. Cass stooped and picked one, the petals round and unfurled.

"I called your school," she said.

Duke stopped. "What? Why?"

"Extra credit. If you do it, you won't fail."

"I don't care about that."

"I do." She stroked one of the petals. "You should, too."

"Oh, come on. It doesn't matter."

Cass flung her head up, her gaze intense. "Yes, it does. That is you. Your life."

"My life is here," Duke said, spreading his hands. "It's helping people as Signal. It's fighting the good fight, not getting As in biology. I thought you understood that."

"I—" She crushed the flower, the petals falling through her fingers. "I do. But I don't—I'm wrong, Duke. I'm all wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't have another life. Not like you. Sometimes I forget. Barbara tries to tell me, but I don't listen. And I told you it wasn't important. And now you're failing." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm so sorry."

"Cass," Duke said, "I forgive you. It's alright."

"It's not! Everything I tell you. It hurts you. Jason is right," she said, sniffling.

Duke closed the distance, grasping her arm. "Okay, so you gave me some bad advice. Who hasn't? You said I can do the extra credit, right? So you fixed it."

"But I don't know," she said. "I thought it was right. I don't know anything."

"Neither do I. God, if anything, I know less than you. I have no clue where my life is headed. I don't know what matters and what doesn't. But what I do know is that you care about me, and that you'd never try to hurt me on purpose. You're allowed to make mistakes, you know."

"Not an angel," she said. "Still love me?"

"Yes. Always."

Cass lowered her hands. "Wish I could help you," she said. "With your work. Your writing. They say you're good."

"I don't know about that," Duke said, blushing. "But you could help me bounce some ideas."

"I'm not good."

"So what? Nobody's good on their first try. It's about trying again," Duke said, slowly. Because, oh. It was about trying again.

"I love you," she said. "I'm sorry I suck at it."

"I suck at it, too. Why don't we suck at things together?"

Cass beamed, and the world got a little brighter, no powers needed.

****

By the time Duke burst out the school doors, the courtyard was deserted. Mrs. Freedman had held him back for half an hour, droning on about his potential and the tragedy of wasting it. Then he'd handed in his extra credit essay, and for the first time in the school year, she'd smiled at him.

So being a good student was maybe, a little bit, rewarding. Whatever. He was still doing this for Cass.

"Finally. Thought you'd died in there or something."

Duke ran to the gate, where Jason Todd leaned against the railing, leather jacket rippling in the wind. With shades and everything. Duke couldn't help but laugh.

"What?"

"You," Duke said. "Jacket. Shades. Overkill much?"

Jason scowled, taking off his sunglasses. "Shut up."

"What's up? Is one of my teachers a murderer? My bet's on Mr. Sheen, there's something wrong with that guy."

"No murders," Jason said. He dug his shoe into the dirt. "Just wanted to see you."

"What, you missed me?"

"Yeah." Duke blinked. Jason was digging a hole, now, driving his toes into the soil. "sh*t. I'm so bad at this stuff. I just—ugh. I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For saying all that crap. For telling you to keep your distance." Jason wrenched his gaze away from the floor, meeting Duke's eyes. "I'm a hypocrite and an idiot, okay? I have enough baggage to fill an airport. And I did believe what I was telling you, but that was my sh*t. I shouldn't have put that on you."

"It's fine, I—"

"It's not." He gripped the railing. "Cass was right. I mean, it's fine when I pull that self-sabotaging crap on myself, but on you? You didn't deserve that. You don't deserve that."

"I brought some of it on myself, though. It wasn't all you."

Jason barked out a laugh. "And you still defend me. I meant that part, Duke. The others are good, but me? I don't—the Pit didn't change me, or whatever people think. This is just who I am. What I do. And you deserve better than that."

"You know what?" Duke straightened, lifting his chin. "I'm sick of people telling me what I do and don't deserve, or who I should and shouldn't be. You said it yourself. You're an idiot. By pushing me away, you're refusing to change, and patting yourself on the back for it. That's not noble, Jason. That's just lame."

Jason opened his mouth, and closed it.

"You said before that running was better than getting locked out," Duke said, softly. "I thought that too. But they're really not so different. Either way, you end up alone. But if you stay—if you choose to trust in the people who love you, who choose to keep loving you—you at least have the chance to change things. I think I deserve that chance. I think we both do."

Duke held his breath, leaning back on his heels. Maybe that was too much. Jason's face was blank. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a slim, tattered book.

"I still think you'd be better off without us," Jason said, "but there's no changing your mind, is there?"

"Nope."

"Well. Here." Duke caught the book, an old copy of The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson . "If you're gonna survive this family, you're gonna need some good poetry."

He cracked open the cover. In small, looped handwriting, the first page read: for Jason. Always remember your mama loves you.

"This is—?"

"A family copy," Jason said. "So don't lose it, alright?"

Duke slipped off his backpack, gingerly placing the book inside. He left his backpack on the ground, took a few steps forward, then vaulted over the gate and tackled Jason into a hug.

Jason grunted. "You're heavy, Narrows."

"And you're my favourite big brother," Duke said, burying his head in Jason's neck.

"Shut up," Jason said. But he didn't let go.

****

Dick's car was a beat-up Toyota, long, inexplicable gashes tearing through the paint. Duke leaned his head against the window as pop music played through the speakers, Dick's humming only a little off-key.

"Is here okay?"

"You can go a little farther," Duke said.

The car pulled up to Sunny's Deli. The entrance was empty, and Duke's heart was on the verge of giving out. He needed a distraction.

"Thanks for driving me," he said.

"I owe you one. You talked to Damian, didn't you?"

"Did he say something to you?"

"No, but he's—different. More settled. Thank you."

"I didn't do anything special."

"Somehow," Dick said, "I don't believe you."

People milled about on the pavement outside, waving to each other, laughing, walking hand in hand. Duke's people. No matter the distance.

"About your fanfiction," Dick said.

Duke groaned. "Don't start."

"Hey, you started it. I just have a question." Dick drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "How'd you decide what to write? I mean, I get Cass and the angel thing, and Jason. But I don't see the connection for me."

"I was mad at you," Duke said, shrugging. "So I made you stupid."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"Remember when you left me on the roof—"

"That was one time!"

Duke snorted. "It wasn't only stupidity," he said. "Tim also wanted to make you have, like, infinite patience. Said it was the opposite of your temper."

"Ah." Dick turned off the radio, steeping them in silence. "Can I ask you a question?" At Duke's nod, he said, "do you ever wish you were a better person?"

The front of Sunny's Deli was empty. Duke said, "all the time."

Dick hummed.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"Why me?" Duke twisted his fingers together. "When we first met, you chose me out of all the other kids. The other Robins. Why? What did you see in me?"

Dick laughed, and if they weren't in an enclosed space, Duke would've thrown both shoes at him. "Duke," Dick said, co*cking a sideways grin at him. "Does it matter?"

"Does it—"

"Isn't that your girlfriend?"

Duke whipped his head to the right. Sure enough, there was Isabella Ortiz, walking cautiously towards the entrance of Sunny's Deli. She wore a hoodie and a baseball cap, both bearing a yellow R.

"I gotta go," Duke said. He pushed the door open and paused, one leg out the car. "Um. Thanks. For everything."

"Does that mean you like me now?"

"In your dreams." Duke returned Dick's middle finger with one of his own.

As Dick drove away, Duke mounted the pavement. Izzy was watching him. She crossed her arms as he came closer, lifting an eyebrow.

"Your fancy cars in the wash or something?"

"Bruce hires people to wash them, so no." Duke rubbed his neck. "Thanks for coming out. I know last time wasn't... great."

"Understatement of the century."

"That's why I called you here. You see, I—I just want to—"

Izzy held up a hand. "Let's get something straight. I'm hearing you out just this once. I can't keep doing this, Duke. This thing where you're only half in my life. I'd prefer—if that's the way you want to do things, I'd prefer you not be in it at all."

"Okay," Duke said, digging his nails into his palm. "I know. I've been awful to you. To all of you. I have no excuse, really. I just—it was so hard, fitting in with you. And then just when I was feeling comfortable, I jumped ship. To them. But it's hard fitting in with them, too. Maybe Dre was right. Maybe all I'm good at is disappearing."

Duke shoved his hand into his coat pocket, fishing out a scrap of paper. "I thought if I said I didn't care, then failing wouldn't feel as bad. That if I broke up with you first, I'd be taking control, or something. 'Cause I knew I'd fail you somehow. And I did."

"I didn't need you to be perfect," Izzy said. "I knew you weren't from the beginning. I just needed you to be here."

"I wasn't," Duke said. "Here, I mean. For a long time. But I think—I'm here now, Izzy. I'm bad at it, but I am." He passed her the note. "Remember how you always got mad at me, 'cause I never showed you my poetry?"

"Drove me insane," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. She unfolded the note.

Roses are red,

Robins are too,

Is there a chance

To start over with you?

"What do you think?"

Izzy folded the note back up. "Corny-ass sh*t."

"Good or bad?"

She huffed. "Maybe I wasn't fair, either," she said. "I wasn't the nicest to you about the whole joining the Bats thing. Okay, yeah, I was jealous. You were doing so much, and I'd just flunked outta school. I thought you wouldn't—you're with the big leagues, now. And I'm just a girl going nowhere."

"You're not going nowhere," he said. "You're going on a date. With me."

"Corny-ass sh*t," she repeated. She tucked the note into her pocket. "Alright, Duke Thomas. Let's start over. You got any place you wanna take me?"

"There's a place nearby. Best sandwiches in the Narrows."

She reached out, taking his hand. They entered Sunny's Deli, side by side, together.

****

"Here we go."

Duke draped himself over the back of the couch, resting his chin on Tim's shoulder. Damian was curled up next to Tim, hazmat suit crinkling as he pressed into Tim's side. The laptop illuminated their faces.

"Goodbye to batfamatic in three, two—"

"Wait."

Tim's finger hovered over the 'Delete My Account' button. "What?"

"I think we should keep it," Duke said.

Loud crinkling as Damian craned his neck to look at Duke. "You want to write more?"

"No, but I don't want to wipe this stuff, either. Sure, it's ridiculous, and terribly written. But we had fun, didn't we? And, uh." Duke blushed. "They may be inaccurate, but they're stories about people I love. They're worth something to me."

Tim sighed dramatically, but he closed the laptop, the button unclicked. "Could've said that over the phone and saved us all some time."

"I was gonna visit anyway," Duke said. "I left my charger here during our sleepover."

"Sleepover?" Damian asked.

"It's a thing people do with their friends," Tim said.

"I know what a sleepover is, Drake!"

"Hey, while we're here," Duke said, "why don't we have another one? The three of us, this time."

"Sleep in the same room as the demon?" Tim shuddered. "Not unless we're separated by steel bars."

Duke reached out and tapped Damian's shoulder. Damian nodded, straightening up.

"Drake," he said. He hesitated. "I don't like it when you say things like that. About me being dangerous. It makes me feel—bad."

Tim blinked. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't mean it. It's not your fault, I just—"

"Of course it's my fault," Tim said, waving a hand. "I've been so uncreative. How am I still using the same joke after all these years? There's so many more things to tease you about, like how you're three apples tall."

"I am not three apples tall!"

"Shortstack," he said. Duke snickered.

"Duke," Damian whined, "don't take his side!"

Duke froze. "Did you just—?"

"What?" Damian's eyes widened, and he turned cherry-red. "That was an accident. If you don't want me to call you that, I can—"

"No!" Duke slid off Tim's shoulder, collapsing onto Damian. "I like it. I like it a lot."

"It's just your name," Damian mumbled.

"From you," Duke said. "My baby brother."

Damian went so red that Tim whipped out his phone and started taking pictures. A brief brawl later, Tim, Duke, and Damian lay sprawled on the floor, Damian's hand in Tim's hair, Tim's foot kicking Damian's knee, and Duke's body scrunched in between them.

"Let go," Tim said, swatting at Damian's hand. "We gotta set up the beds."

Duke grasped both their arms. "Later. I kinda want to—stay like this. For a bit."

The boat rocked beneath them, slow and gentle. Duke was warm on both sides. All over. In his pocket, his phone was warm, too. He'd just made a new group chat: Dax's 18th B-day SURPRISE. Duke looked up at the ceiling. Everything he needed, within reach.

"I wonder what our next experiment will be," Duke said.

"Richard and Brown said if I get involved in anything else, they would kill me."

"I don't think we're topping this anyway," Tim said. "Unless..."

"Unless?" Duke asked.

"Well," Tim said, "have you ever heard of shipping?"