Don't Fear the Reaper

88) A Family of Psychos

A/N: tis short, but trust me, i'm building something >:) 

Nico didn't know what to do with himself.

He was at a loss, because what the hell was wrong with this family?

They met him because Jason and Damian knew him from their days with the League of Assassins—a league of people who were, surprise surprise, assassins. They should have been disgusted by him. They should be looking down their noses at the monster he is—was?—and telling him to get out of their home. They should have wanted him gone from their lives as soon as he came around, and yet...

Family.

Nico had spent every waking moment since his conversation with Bruce—which was basically all the moments considering how little he slept—consumed by that word.

Family.

What did it actually mean?

He'd had a family once and, while some of his memories began resurfacing after his umpteenth time being dragged back to life with the Lazarus Pit, it didn't mean he knew what it was like to actually be a family.

The Lazarus Pit gave him back some pieces, but, like his experiences with the pit, he wouldn't really call them pleasant. The memories were dark, both in clarity and content. He remembered the fear that hung over them, the way his nonno would tell him how dangerous the situation was for their family, the way his mother held onto him and Bianca as they stood in the line at Ellis Island. He remembered the sound of the hotel exploding, his father's echoing voice as he ordered for their memories to be erased, the way his vision seemed to tunnel was they walked into the Lotus Casino. 

Family wasn't peaceful for him, and yet Bruce said family, and, while he wasn't quite at peace, he was certainly the closest he'd been in a long time.

Being with the Wayne's wasn't really peaceful, but it felt consistent. He couldn't trust it, yet it felt stable as the same time. They existed to him in a paradox—safe and unsafe, reliable and unreliable, familiar and unfamiliar, strangers and... well, family.

He didn't know what to do with it. He didn't know how to understand it. He didn't know why they wanted him around—no one really had before.

Well, that wasn't quite true.

There had been a few who wanted him around, though each seemed to disappear from his life (or really just life in general) as soon as he got close to letting them in.

So what was he supposed to do?

"Bruce," Nico said as he stared at the plate in front of him, speaking for the first time since they'd sat down for dinner.

The Waynes all looked at him in surprise, though they at least attempted to mask it away while they shared looks.

"Yes, Nico?" Bruce said, his undivided attention turned to Nico.

Nico glanced at Bruce briefly before looking back at his plate, his face screwing up just a bit as he fought himself. He knew what was going to say, and he wanted it, but he didn't want it. He needed help, and he knew what he wanted, but the fear that was vibrating within him felt like it was consuming him.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked, his voice quiet in the silent room.

"Well, I was planning to stop by the office, but there isn't really anything I need to do there that can't wait or be done at home," Bruce said, seemingly surprised by the question, though he didn't seem to mind.

When Nico didn't respond for a moment, Tim chimed in. "Actually, I was planning on going by WE tomorrow to drop off some stuff, so I can handle anything that needs to get done. It would give me an excuse to skip the YJ 'team building exercises' which are kinda pointless considering everyone on the team has been there for over a year." Tim chuckled a little, trying to ease the tension.

Nico nodded a little before forcing the lump in his throat to subside and finally turning his head a little to actually look at Bruce. "Could you drive me to New York?"

Bruce couldn't hide the look of surprise this time, and it was obvious that he wanted to ask a lot of questions, but instead he just smiled softly and said, "Of course. Can I ask why?"

Nico let out a slow breath, mentally counting out the timing like Steph had taught him as he picked up his fork. "I just... I need to talk to someone."

Bruce nodded, his interest clear in his eyes, but he didn't push it—the Waynes never did. "Okay. We can leave after breakfast?"

Nico nodded, taking a bite of his food and purposefully ignoring the others who were watching him. "Thank you."

Bruce smiled at him, a soft and steady look in his eyes. "Of course. Thank you for coming to me and asking for what you need."

Nico just nodded again, not saying anything else. He ate as much as he could manage, but his mind was swarmed with thoughts that felt more like static than anything else. 

A/N: being a writer is fun because it's really just playing god... I really should go back to therapy

Vote. Comment. Tell me what you think I should talk to my therapist about (I want to see what you guys think, so pull no punches. I promise not to be offended).