Chapter Text
Jason Todd, Red Hood, gang leader and crime lord, was going to crash out if one more thing went wrong.
Sure, he and the goons managed to destroy thirty canisters of Scarecrow's fear gas, but the warehouse storing them collapsed in the explosion.
Jason’s stomach churned. Six of his men were injured. Even worse, three more were missing. The Red Hood may have been a fearsome figure, but that didn't mean he didn't care about his employees.
The pervasive Gotham drizzle weighed heavy on Jason as he hauled himself onto the roof of his shabby brick apartment complex. He was about ready to drown in his worry when an ear splitting chime echoed inside his helmet
Jason accepted the call with a scowl. "What."
His second in command, Kathryn, sighed on the other end of the line. "I gots good news and bad news for ya, whatcha want first?"
"Uh, good news?"
"They found all three of the missing goons. All alive and recovering,”
A modicum of tension leaked out of Jason's shoulders. Ok. ok. Jason could live with that. A few injured by his foolhardy plan, but none killed. "Good. What's the bad news?"
Kat blew out a long breath, "Where do I even fuckin start? One of the armored vehicles was blown to bits in the explosion. Nobody hurt, thank god, but that's a fuckton of money down the drain.”
Jason winced, but Kat wasn’t done. “We're distributing the fear gas antidote currently, but our stores are running low, and that shit is expensive. Plus, our last cash reserves went to the damage from the Arkham breakout last week."
Jason let out a creative string of cuss words that would have made a sailor blush. "I'm coming back to help with the clean up, I'm only a few blocks away."
Kat barked out a sharp laugh. "No. We're fine. Go home."
"Clearly you need---"
"We're distributing what fear gas antidote we do have. There's nothing you could do that I couldn't."
"But we're entirely fucking broke!" Jason shouted. He felt the Lazarus Pit rage stirring life in his brain. His vision began turning green, vitals rising. He paused, doing mental math through the haze of cortisol and animalistic fear.
Yeah, he was way overdue to take his meds.
Kat scolded him, "And that's still gonna be the case in eight hours, once you've gotten enough sleep to keep you from a full mental breakdown. How long has it been since you’ve actually slept? A week?”
"You're just as bad as Alfred," Jason muttered, already climbing down the fire escape.
"Hm?”
"Nothing. Call me if you need anything. I mean it."
"Go the fuck to sleep Hood," She hung up.
Jason swung into his apartment window and shuffled inside. The exhaustion of the past day and a half washed over him and he leaned against the wall, shucking off his work clothes and laying them out to dry from the rain. The helmet popped into its charging station with a beep.
His bed called to him like the sirens to Odysseus, but he was definitely gonna need a shower first. And maybe a snack. Maybe after all that, the world wouldn’t seem so terribly hopeless.
Snack. Shower. Bed. That was the plan.
At least, it was the plan until he almost tripped over a prone body on his living room floor.
Jason stumbled back, holding in an undignified screech.
Blue and black kevlar weave contrasted sharply against the beige of his shitty carpet. Without thinking, Jason pulled his gun and flicked off the safety. "Nightwing."
He didn't move. Upon closer inspection, Jason wasn't even sure if he was breathing. "Wing?" Was this a hallucination? A trick? Jason crept closer. He scooped one hand under the padded torso and flipped Nightwing onto his back in one quick movement.
Nightwing groaned. Not dead, then. His half-askew domino mask flapped against his cheek, revealing one blue eye fluttering open. "...Jay?"
Jason was more preoccupied with the steady puddle of dark blood forming beneath him. That explained the iron tang hovering in the stuffy air. "The hell happened to you? Actually, you know what, I don't care."
"Got stabbed."
"I can see that. Why are you in my damn apartment?"
"Just thought I'd drop by," Nightwing smiled but it turned into a grimace as he tried to put pressure on the gaping hole in his thigh. "It's been ages."
"Fuck no," Jason stepped over him, heading for the bathroom.
"I'm bleeding out here!”
"Yeah, on my carpet, you asshole," Jason grabbed the med kit from under the bathroom sink and all but tossed it at Dick. "There. Take that and fuck off to your hidey hole."
"How generous," Dick unlatched the kit with shaking fingers.
"You're lucky I didn't shoot you on sight." Jason yanked open the fridge door, sighing at the meager half dozen eggs and open bag of shredded cheese staring back at him. He turned the stove on with a huff, pulling out his favorite non-stick pan. “You guys really need to stop doing this, or else I might slip up.”
It was usually Spoiler who showed up at his apartment uninvited. Signal sometimes came by for a snack during the day, or to water his plants while he was away. Robin showed up exactly once, unexplained. The rest of them had enough self preservation to stay away. At least, Jason had thought they did.
Dick swore under his breath as he failed to sit up for the fourth time. It was frankly pitiful to watch, and while Jason had no qualms about watching Dick die, it would be a shame to lose his security deposit because of blood leaking through the floors and onto his neighbors.
Jason set his favorite nonstick pan on the counter with a clatter, crossing swiftly to Dick. Jason dragged him upright and propped him up against the front of his sofa. He ignored the way Dick hissed in pain, "Let me look at it."
"Aw, you do care," Dick smiled, his eyes a little distant.
"Shut the fuck up, or I'll let you bleed out," Jason snarled. He reached into the med kit and pulled out the scissors, snipping open the leg of Dick's suit so he could get a better look. He had to hand it to Alfred, cutting through the enhanced kevlar weave was no easy task.
When he'd gotten the sticky dried blood cleared away, Jason could tell the wound was a roughly four centimeters long, deep without much surface area, like he’d been stabbed. It was deeply situated in the muscle, but hadn’t severed anything important. He just had to stop the bleeding, and Dick would heal up fine, "Ok, couple options, I can pack it for until you get back or I can try to suture it."
"Sutures if you can, 's not that deep."
"How much anesthetic do you want?"
"None."
Jason poked the wound for emphasis, "Don't be a martyr, dumbass."
"A little bit of local, if you can manage," Dick conceded through gritted teeth.
Jason prepped a syringe, then plunged it into the skin next to the wound. Dick didn't even blink, so used to being poked and prodded with needles that it hardly bothered him.
Jason cleaned out the wound and closed it with some messy sutures using a curved needle and sterile thread. He wasn't about to break out his surgical forceps for a man who broke into his apartment.
It wasn't long before he was helping Dick onto the couch, his leg fully bandaged. "You want some painkillers or something?"
"Nothing too strong, Ibuprofen or something."
Jason snorted, "What makes you think I have the good stuff?"
Instead of answering, Dick squinted at him. “You okay, dude?”
Jason realized that his vision had gone almost completely tinted green.
In all the commotion of Dick’s appearance, Jason had forgotten to take his meds. He was shaking like a chihuahua on crack, his eyes probably glowing like a pair of traffic lights. His breaths came fast and shallow as waves of panic crashed through him. In the wake of discovering his sort-of-brother bleeding out on his floor, he hadn’t even noticed his own body’s betrayal.
Fuck.
Jason huffed, trying to get his symptoms under control, "Fuck off. I'm, uh, gonna go make some eggs. Don't pass out. Idiot."
"I'll try."
God, how had Jason allowed Dick to see him so vulnerable? As soon as he was out of sight, Jason fumbled for the pill bottle in his kitchen drawer.
Months ago, Jason had broken into Dr. Thompkins's clinic one morning before dawn, desperate to find something to control the side effects of the Lazarus Pit. Back then, he couldn't even think straight with all the rage and fear constantly flooding his system.
He nearly shuddered at the memory, cracking several eggs straight into the pan.
That night, Leslie had caught him in the middle of trying to pry open a childproof cap. She managed somehow to outlast the attack of pit rage, and interrogated him until he told her exactly who he was, why he was in her clinic, and what his goddamn problem was. That day began a months-long process of trying different prescription cocktails to manage his symptoms.
When he was with the League of Assassins, they kept him drugged into complacency most of the time. Once he escaped back to Gotham with Damian, however, the symptoms returned with a vengeance.
Eventually, they found that fear gas antidote helped more than anything. Leslie said it had something to do with Fear Gas being chemically related to Lazarus Pit waters.
When she started in on the medical and chemical theory of it all, Jason always tuned her out. The sciencey jargon was foreign to him, and rather terrifying when he thought about how fragile his own body chemistry really was.
Jason still didn’t want to think about it, even as he pushed the half-cooked eggs around the pan with a spatula.
But it was thanks to Leslie's help that Jason was almost back to normal by the time his perfectly seasoned fluffy scrambled eggs were finished.
Jason plated the eggs, then smacked Dick on the shoulder to check if he was still alive. When Dick made an affronted sound, that was confirmation enough for Jason, “Egg time, bitch.”
He popped one eye open, "Thanks, but I'm not hungry."
"Sucks to suck. You're gonna eat your damn eggs, then have someone pick you up, cause I'm definitely not driving you. Thanks for that, by the way. Now I have to ditch this place."
Dick scowled but sat up with a grimace to accept the plate, "We know where all your safehouses are, anyway,"
Jason paused, narrowing his eyes. "How many do I have, then?"
"Four across Gotham, two in the alley."
Fuck. Jason shoved a forkful of egg into his mouth to disguise his panic. "Wrong. Guess again, idiot."
Dick grinned, still a little dopey from the blood loss, "You're bluffing,"
Double fuck. Flopping down in the armchair next to Dick, Jason declared, "That's what I want you to think."
"Mhm."
Dick took a tentative bite, "Oh, wow, these are incredible actually."
"It's the low blood sugar," Jason muttered.
They finished their eggs in relative silence. Jason did his best to ignore the fact that Dick Grayson was in his living room. His enemy? His former family member? His killer’s killer? Did that make them allies? What even were they to each other?
Actually, it didn't fucking matter, because Dick was leaving very shortly. Then, Jason wouldn't have to think about him. Taking Dick's empty plate from him, Jason asked, "Who's coming to get you?"
"Any chance you could drive me?"
Jason set the plates and forks in the kitchen sink with a clatter, "Nope."
Dick pouted, "Pleaseeee. Not even back to Bludhaven, just to the manor."
Jason didn’t say anything, but felt his shoulders tense. He flicked the faucet on with more force than necessary. Normally, he would put off the dishes for as long as possible, but Jason was going to take any excuse he had to ignore the injured vigilante in his house, “Not a fucking chance.”
Jason could feel Dick’s eyes on him as he asked, “Why not?”
Jason ignored him, swishing a fork around the soapy sink water.
When Dick spoke again, his voice was softer. “You haven’t been back since...before."
Jason decided he had the right to be a little bit of a jerk. "Before what?"
"You know what I mean."
"Say it, then."
"Since before you died." Dick forced the words out. "It’s been years. You haven't even tried to reach out as a civilian."
Again, Jason said nothing.
"I want to know why."
Silence settled heavy over them like a suffocating layer of snow.
"Please."
There were so many reasons. Batman failed to save Jason in the only way that mattered. Then, he'd come back from the dead to find himself replaced by a new, loveable Robin. A robin who was smarter, stronger, kinder, and a better partner for Batman.
The hurt nearly tore him apart, the pain of losing yet another little family. His fresh pit rage had amplified the feelings until Jason couldn't take it anymore. He attacked Tim unprovoked, nearly fatally injuring the boy and traumatizing him to hell and back.
The entire bat clan hated him for that. He hated himself for it, too. How could he return after that?
Plus, Wayne Manor had filled with teenagers as Bruce took in more and more vigilantes over the years. They had a real family now, or something like it, and there was no room for Jason in it.
But Jason couldn't say any of that. So instead, he said the thing most likely to hurt Dick, "I never wanted to."
Dick didn't hesitate before pulling out the big guns, "Alfred wants to see you."
The thought of Alfred made his chest hurt, so Jason redirected, his teeth clenched, "Pretty sure I’m banned from the premises because I’m, you know, a crime lord."
"Did anyone ever actually say that you weren’t allowed to return?" Dick challenged.
"It was pretty heavily implied."
"You know, it's totally understandable to be scared to come back,"
Jason finally turned to face him. "Seriously? You think I'm scared of a crime fighting furry and his little group of misfits?"
"I do." While Jason was tense all over, Dick was sprawled on his couch like it was the most comfortable place in the world. "I don't think you'd last thirty seconds in the manor."
"Then why are you trying to get me to drive you?"
"Exposure therapy," Dick murmured, "Gotta start somewhere."
"I’m not scared of you,” Jason snarled, scrubbing his egg pan ferociously, "I've already been working cases with you fuckers for months.”
Dick scoffed, "You talk a big game, but I'd bet money that you couldn't last ten minutes in civvies with us.”
"Yeah? How much?"
“Five grand at least.”
With those words, an idea sparked to life. Jason had a lot of problems, but a load of bat-money could solve the most pressing of them, "What about a day in the manor? How much then?”
“Fifty grand.”
“A week?”
“Five hundred thousand buckaroos,” Dick chirped, his eyes half closed.
“Are you fucking with me?” Jason turned to glance at Dick over his shoulder.
“I’m being so serious right now.”
It was like Jason was twelve again, Dick egging him into trying a dangerous new trick. "Hypothetically, what might the conditions of such a wager look like?"
"Hmm. You’d have to attend family dinner every night."
“You guys actually managed to get Bruce to stop working long enough to eat something?"
Dick frowned. "He was the one who suggested it, actually."
Jason just laughed. No fucking way Bruce would willingly put down a case for something as mundane as family dinner, "Sure he did."
“Hm, what else,” Dick muttered, "Oh, uh, you can't spend more than six hours away from the manor during the week. You can't get yourself kicked out, either."
"Six hours?"
"Take it or leave it."
"Fine. That's everything?" Jason couldn’t believe he was actually considering it.
"Yeah, I think so," Dick ran a hand down his face, then paused. "Oh, wait, you can't tell anyone about the bet, either."
"And if I made it through the week, you’d pay me in cash?” Jason hedged.
Dick smirked, “When you fail, I expect my payment in one dollar bills only. You down?”
“When does it start?”
“Uh, how’s tomorrow afternoon?”
Jason sighed long and hard. Oh, the things he was willing to do for his lackeys and the people they served. They’d better get him a mug that said ‘best boss ever’ on it or something.
Against his better judgement, Jason shook Dick’s proffered hand firmly. "You’re on, Dickface.”
“…any chance you could drive me home?"
"Hell no."
"Damn, should've made that one of my conditions."
"Sucks to suck, Dicky boy. If you're still here in the morning, I'll actually shoot you this time."
Dick pouted. "But---"
"Right in your pretty face. Bones fragments and skin everywhere, blood up the walls."
"Yeah, yeah." Dick muttered, carefully turning over to face the back of the couch
"That's all I get? No 'Thanks for saving my life, Jason', 'What a superbly featured room, Jason', 'Such excellent eggs, many years since I've had such an exemplary protein, Jason'."
"Huh?"
Jason huffed, storming off back into his bedroom, where he intended to get some good old fashioned sleep for the first time in days.
….
It evaded him as always.
As hard as he tried to ignore the awful decision he’d just made, Jason couldn’t stop thinking about the bet.
A week in the manor sounded simple enough. Until it didn't. Dick had said they wanted him to come back, that they missed him. How ridiculous. They didn't even know him now. He was a grown ass adult with a very reputable crime empire. While it served his community, it was still a criminal endeavor, and crimes going unpunished was the thing Batman hated most.
Even worse, Batman had a personal grudge against him. Why else would the man have fired him from robin, refuse to save him, and leave his murderer alive? Jason had been trying to let go of resentment, as it only made his pit rage worse, but fuck man, how were they supposed to live in the same house?
Then there was Tim to worry about. Tim, who he'd nearly murdered in a fit of jealous rage, attacking him Titans' Tower. The kid was probably not over that. Jason didn't blame him.
He'd been hopped up on Pit Rage, painting a child as the ultimate representation of the injustices he’d experienced. Somehow, he’d thought that if he killed Tim, his pain would die with him. Staring down at the boy bleeding and broken, Jason had realized that wasn’t true at all.
If anything, Jason should've stabbed Batman. Definitely not the blameless boy who was chosen to replace him.
Jason wasn't even sure how many people lived in the manor at this point, but if they were sympathetic to Tim and Bruce, they all definitely hated him. The bats were cordial on missions with him, but bat clan members were famous for hiding their true feelings well.
If he chose to go through with the bet, would Jason even make it through the week alive? Was this a worse decision than deciding to run away to Ethiopia? Then, he'd had no idea of the danger that awaited him. Now, Jason was perfectly aware of all the ways this could go wrong.
Jason decided he couldn’t do it. What had he even been thinking? He would simply have to make up the money some other way.
As he rose to wake Dick and announce the bet was off, Jason heard a voice coming from the other side of the door.
"Hey, Alfred, sorry to bother you so late, would you be able to come pick me up? I'm at Jason's safe house...yeah, the one on the south side of the alley. He's asleep right now...."
There was a long silence, presumably from Dick getting the lecture of a lifetime.
"I know, I know, I deserve it, but you're never gonna believe what happened! I invited Jason over for a few days, and he said yes!"
That was an extreme oversimplification, but technically not untrue.
"He'll be staying for a week. Can you imagine? A whole week! But, do me a favor and don't tell the others, ok?...No, especially not Bruce. They don't need to know. They'll know soon enough, anyway, it's not like we'll be hiding him in the attic or something. Please, Alf?...I knew I could count on you! Oh, and bring some painkillers with you when you come to get me. I got stabbed."
There was another silence, presumably another lecture.
"Alright, alright, you can scold me all you want when you get here. I'll see you soon, ok? Oh and tell everybody I'm alive. Thanks. Bye."
Jason wasn't able to sleep until long after Dick left at first light. He was fitful and restless, never able to fall into a slumber for more than an hour or two at a time.
When he gave up on sleep, the first thing he did was call his second.
"Hey, Kat."
"Boss! What's up?"
She sounded exhausted. That only cemented the idea that Jason had to do this, for his criminal organization and the people they served. "I found a way to get a half a million by next week."
She made a skeptical noise. "How many guys are you gonna need for that?”
"Just me."
"What, you joining the working girls or something? Setting up an OnlyFans? I always thought you could make a fortune on there!”
“Kat.”
“What? What is it?”
“I’m gonna be out all next week. Can you hold down the fort while I’m gone?”
“Easy. Now, what are you up to?”
“I’m…utilizing some old connections.”
“Alley ones, those ninjas from the middle east, or the weird toxic rich family thing?”
“Weird toxic rich family.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” Jason defended, watching as his ceiling fan spun in lazy circles above him.
“Alright, well, as long as you get the money.”
“If you stop hearing from me, assume they’ve killed me or locked me up somewhere. In the event that I am indisposed, you will assume the position of leader.”
“How charming. Do I get the helmet at least?”
“You know what? Sure. Why not.”
Jason hung up and began the gargantuan task of packing a bag for the most dangerous adventure of his life.