Family Ties : A Batfamily Story

Chapter Seventy

Jesus fuck are we are seventy already?

I had a fuckin stroke while writing this chapter because I tried to figure out everyone's ages and when they adopted who and what not. In the end, I just gave up and decided that this is a fanfiction and comic timelines get confusing as fuck when Batman has been around since 1939. Enjoy and Savor!!!

POV Dick

"Where is he, Babs?!" I try not to shout at my phone.

She sighs back. "I can tell you where he isn't,"

Damn it, Dami, I curse my baby brother as my less baby brother, Tim, and I push through the growing crowd of Gothamites.

"Be on time, Damian, that's all I ask," I mock my own voice before saying a muffled polite, "Excuse me!" as I bump shoulders with a woman.

"Well he's not at the apartment and he's not in the Bunker."

I look up at the clearing pale blue sky, "Daylight patrol?"

"Not really he's style, don't you think?"

I let out a tired breath. I guess part of me knew that getting Damian to come to the memorial today would be more a dream than reality - but I had hoped he would at least give me some sort of warning that he wasn't going to show up.

That would save me from my current embarrassment; scrambling through Central Park in a new suite calling his name like an idiot.

Babs had little sympathy. "Maybe you should just start without him. It's not like this is new for him lately."

"He always showed up when Bruce asked him." I say under my breath.

"Dick-"

"What!"

She pauses, letting me picture her face in my mind. Her slight frown and furrowed brows eyeing me with equal parts worry and annoyance. Her green eyes soft yet reprimanding. The little wrinkle in between her eyebrows that has grown into a medium-sized wrinkle over these past six years of making the same face at me every night. If I wasn't currently pissed, I would have smiled at the thought.

It doesn't feel like twelve years since this life began; my parents dying and Bruce taking me in. Twelve years since I first put on that pantless Robin suit and stood at Bruce's side. Twelve years since I was a normal kid. Hell, I'm not even a kid anymore. Still, it feels like the same Gotham streets I run down each night. Babs familiar and nostalgic laughter ringing in over the coms as we race each other over rooftops and through alleys. Tim's never-changing habits and always curious eyes - even when dimmed by sleeplessness and caffeine. And even though Damian has only been with us for a year, he too has become reversibly part of me. Part of the family.

Like Jason, like Robyn. Part of the family.

"Give yourself a break, okay? We knew this wasn't going to be easy." She tells me firmly. "Damian's always been rebellious, remember when he first came here? We just have to wait this out. He'll settle down eventually."

"I know you're right,"

She laughs a little, "I'm always right, Pixie Boots."

With that, we hang up. I give the huddled crowd of black puffy coats and snow one last look over before turning back to Tim. He looks tired - more than usual. Sickly gray bags clump under his eyes and they have only been getting worse. His eyes are glossed over most days and he hardly ever leaves his room. But honestly, the most worrisome part is that he stopped being Red Robin.

Babs stocked it all up to grief and heartache; after all, he lost everything. His dad, his home, Jason - whatever that means for him. And she's probably right. Isolation, not sleeping, and lack of interest in hobbies are all normal signs of grief, it's just not how we grieve. When someone dies, Bruce disappears for weeks and then comes back and pretends everything's fine. Babs shuts everyone out and pushes herself too hard. I, well, I do what I did when we thought that Robyn died. I become someone I'm scared of.