Curt Connors woke up from the same dream that plagued him almost every night.

It was the day he lost his arm. He remembered the bombs and the screaming and the pain, the shrapnel tearing through his right arm like it a burning poison.

He jolted upwards, sweat drenching his body and for a brief moment feeling his arm on his side like a lingering phantom, feel his fingers running through the bedsheets. His alarm started to ring. Curt frowned, switching it off. He got out of his bed and headed to the shower.  Curt walked through the wide passages of his house, going downstairs with photos hung on the wall. Photos of him in the military, photos he forgot to remove of him and Martha before the divorce and pictures of Billy Connors.

He made himself a cup of coffee and while he waited for it to cool down he went over to his mailbox and sorted through the mail.

Bills, mortgage payments, summons from Martha’s lawyers and his discontinuation from the Wayne Veteran program. Curt sighed. Before, he used to be able to pay for anything. The benefits and coverage offered by the Veteran Program made him able to afford the bills and the lawyers after his divorce with Martha. Now, with Bruce Wayne nowhere to be seen since last year and Lucius Fox tied up with keeping the company afloat costs were being cut and an unfortunate side effect of that were the various funds and programs Bruce Wayne set up in Gotham biting the dust or being put under newer, more awful management.

What’s more, funding was being cut from Wayne Inc projects that weren’t electronics or weapons related leading to him slowly but surely losing funding for his project (and salary cuts). That lead to him turning to people like the Master Planner, people like Sawyer.

His phone rang. It was Martha. Curt picked up.

“Billy is coming over today,” Martha said tersely, hanging up as soon as she started.

Curt sighed. How had this happened? When he got back home he expected to be embraced lovingly in Martha’s arm. She was his rock, his guideline but when she saw his amputated arm she looked at him like everybody else did. She looked at him like she was a freak. Things were normal when he had but now that he lost it, he was seemingly lesser. All the love and tenderness disappeared, leaving him alone and bitter, with an arm that wasn’t even his writing hand.

But the people that looked at him as if he was different he could handle. Let them be content in their close mindedness. It was the people who looked at him as if he was a thing to be pitied, as if he was only his amputated arm and not a brilliant scientist that enraged him. The ones who thought they were better than those that treated him like a freak because they were nicer. Being looked at with pity was an even worse punishment than losing his arm.

The last letter in his pile didn’t have an address. Curt already knew who it was from.

Remember who’s paying off the lawyers that let you see your son. We know what you did.

It was Sawyer. Curt crumpled up the paper and threw it in the bin. He slammed against his table, wanting nothing more than to get his arm around Sawyer’s neck, wanting nothing more than his other arm back.

…

Peter stood in front of Barbara’s room, dreading opening the door. The doctors said it was okay to visit but Peter wasn’t sure if he wanted to. He muttered a prayer to himself and opened the door to see Barbara talking to her father with the smile he missed so much.

“I’ll be fine, dad,” Barbara said. “Stop worrying.”

“If there’s anything you…”

“I know dad,” Barbara said, giving her dad a reassuring smile. “I know. You worry wayy too much.”

Barbara caught Peter’s eyes and waved at him. The Commissioner placed a hand on her shoulder, giving Peter a firm nod before leaving the hospital room.

“I came as soon as I…”

“Come here,” Barbara said, Peter leaned down and they kissed and for a brief moment it felt like Peter’s anxiety didn’t exist.

“No flowers?” Barbara asked after they pulled away.

“No money either,” Peter joked. “I got fired from everything.”

“Oh no,” Barbara said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, started that internship thing Bruce offered,” Peter said. “It’s been great, Doctor Connors is a great guy to work with.”

Barbara smiled. “That’s great. That’s good.”

“How have you been?” Peter said. “What did the doctors say?”

“I’ve been good,” Barbara said. She ignored the second question and Peter felt his stomach twist. He figured something was up but he didn’t know what.

“Barbara,” Peter said, firmly this time. “Are you alright? What did the doctors say?”

Barbara chuckled. “It’s fine, Peter. Bruce will sort out everything. There’s something I want you to see.”

It was clear Barbara didn’t want to talk about. It made Peter’s heart ache but he figured she’d talk about when she was ready to.

“What is it you want me to see?” Peter asked.

“While I was doing my check-ups I heard some rumours going around,” Barbara said. She pulled out a laptop from under her pillow. Peter leaned at her side as she opened a newspaper article with a missing person’s poster. On it was a boy that looked around 10 years old with blonde hair, a huge grin with one missing tooth and bright green eyes. On the poster was: MISSING JAMES SANTINI. AGE 10 YEARS OLD. Alongside details of his clothes and a number to contact if found and the fact that he was deaf in both ears.

“James Santini has been missing for about a month now,” Barbara said. “The details are all here.”

“Don’t kids go missing in Gotham all the time?” Peter asked, Barbara stared at him. “I mean it sucks don’t get me wrong but what makes this different?”

“Here’s the thing,” Barbara said. “Mrs. Santini knows where her son’s last known location was.”

Barbara pulled up the Facebook page of Mrs. Santini who shared the same blonde hair and facial features but her eyes were a bright blue. “In her posts she mentioned she took her son for some special treatment at a clinic by Gotham Port but get this…”

“There’s no clinic at Gotham Port,” Peter said.

“Yeah,” Barbara said. “And when she went to the building it was empty, like nobody was there. She called the police but other than a few empty beds and bullet holes there was nothing else.”

“Seems pretty elaborate for a kidnapping,” Peter said.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Barbara said, putting her laptop back under her pillow.

Peter shrugged. “So, send all the details to Bruce…”

“No,” Barbara said, her voice harsher than usual.

“What?” Peter said. “Bruce is the better detective. I’m sure he’ll find something that the police…”

“You seem to forget that Bruce trained me to be a detective too,” Barbara said.

Peter stared at Barbara for a while before realising what she was saying. “No. No way Barbara. You haven’t even been discharged yet…”

“I leave tomorrow,” Barbara said.

“And you didn’t think to tell me,” Peter said, surprised. “What’s going on with you? Either way you’re in no condition to…”

“I am in perfectly fine condition Peter,” Barbara said. “You think just cause I can’t walk I’m not capable of handling this?”

“It’s not that,” Peter said. “You just got out of the hospital and you want to put yourself in danger again?”

“Please be quiet,” said a doctor. “You’re disturbing the other patients.”

Peter sighed, kneeling down to Barbara and looking straight at her green eyes.

“Barbara are you okay?” Peter asked. “I asked you what the doctors said but you haven’t answered me.” Peter placed his hands on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Barbara stared at Peter’s eyes for a brief moment, in that brief moment Peter saw a flash of sadness in her eyes before…

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Peter,” she said, barely meeting his eyes.

“Babs…” Peter said, loosening his grip on her shoulders.

“We’ll start investigations tomorrow,” Barbara said. “Once I’m dismissed.”

Barbara turned her wheelchair around, rolling over to the window and staring out with a distant expression on her face, the late afternoon sun making her hair redder than usual. Peter got up.

“Sure,” Peter said. “Sure. I’ll uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Peter closed the door behind him. Missing Barbara let out a sob as her fists clenched atop her legs.

…

“You will train and train until you learn some restraint,” Bruce said, his voice like ice. “Until then you will stay here and think about your actions.”

“But I’m sorry,” Jason said, genuine remorse in his voice. “I’ll be better next time. I swear I didn’t mean to do this.”

“Then why do you look like you enjoyed it?” Bruce said. “No, you lack restraint and until you learn how to restrain yourself, you will train.”

Bruce left the training room and headed for the Batcomputer which was in the central Batcave where Alfred was waiting for him.

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh, sir?” Alfred asked.

“He almost killed the man,” Bruce said. “He would have killed him if I hadn’t stopped him.”

“That may very well be the case,” Alfred said. “But you seem to be forgetting that you were much like him when you first started.”

Bruce remained silent. His eyes trained on the computer.

“Master Jason comes from a turbulent background,” Alfred said. “What he needs more than dressing up in a colourful outfit and beating up criminals is guidance…”

“I am guiding him,” Bruce said. “I’m giving him another opportunity.”

“Holed up in a cave, his only contact with the outside world being an old butler and beating up criminals?”

“What do you want me to do Alfred?” Bruce said. “I’ve tried everything.”

“Did you?” Alfred asked. “Master Dick had the opportunity to go to school, form a life outside of Batman. Master Jason was picked off the streets by Batman and seems unable to separate himself from you. His only friends are an old man and a vigilante who’d rather stayed holed up in a cave than face the world. Hardly good figures for a boy with a childhood like his, don’t you think?”

Bruce stood up. “That’s enough Alfred!”

Alfred didn’t back down. “For a man who uses fear as a weapon, you’re doing a bad job of not letting it consume you.”

Bruce ignored Alfred and turned to his computer.

Alfred turned and walked towards Jason whose fists were thumping against the boxing bag with violent force, sweat his face. His shirt was thrown haphazardly to the side and he was wearing his Robin pants.

“Master Jason,” Alfred called, Jason didn’t hear him. “Jason,” Alfred called a little louder. Jason stopped his training and turned to Alfred with a grin on his face.

“What’s up Al?”

“I came to talk to you after your… altercation with Master Bruce,” Alfred said, taking a seat on one of the bench-press machines.

“It was my fault,” Jason said. “I wasn’t disciplined enough. I was an idiot and…”

Alfred raised a hand to stop him. “We mustn’t blame ourselves too much. Master Bruce is only harsh on you because he sees a bit of his younger self in you.”

Jason chuckled. “Oh really. How was he when he was a boy?”

Alfred smiled. “Not as a boy. As a man. When he first started out as Batman he was a lot like how he says you are. Angry, undisciplined. It took him a long time to grow into the man you see in front of you today.”

“But it’s like he doesn’t need me,” Jason said. “He can do everything without me and that’s because I’m so useless.”

“You’re not, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “One of the reasons he grew into the man you see today was because of Master Dick.”

Jason snorted.

“The Robin before you,” Alfred continued. “As much as he doesn’t like to admit it, Master Bruce needs you. You just have to live up to your capabilities.”

Jason smiled. “Thanks Al.”

Alfred ruffled his hair. “No problem, what say after this we have some ice cream. My treat.”

Jason grinned. “I like the sound of that.”