Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His first time out as Red Hood after the confrontation with Batman Jason had expected the man to be around every corner. After two weeks of radio silence he had stopped jumping at unexpected movement. Now, a month and a half in, Jason only occasionally checked for shadows that seemed darker than they should be.

Which was why, when he arrived at a warehouse for an international shipping company that had recently made a deal with Sionis, he was surprised to find the guards tied up outside, out cold. Jason grappled down to the bodies, inspecting the ties. They were definitely bat style, Jason remembered Dick teaching him these exact knots.

Originally he was just here for recon. If Batman was handling the situation he must have evidence for the cops. Jason should leave, he didn’t want to see the man yet, maybe not ever. Still, Jason paused to listen but there was no sound of a fight, certainly no guns firing. He was turning to leave when his eye caught on a flash of blue in the wall by the door. He reached out and pulled a birdarang from the corrugated steel wall. It was definitely Nightwing's, not Batman’s. Jason hadn’t heard anything from the bird since Bludhaven had gone up in a ball of green. 

Part of Jason had assumed the man was dead. The part that remembered looking up to Dick, the first Robin; the little kid who thought his brother was invincible, refused to acknowledge that anything could truly kill Dick Grayson. The evidence on the ground in front of him suggested Dick was alive. Suddenly Jason needed to know. Needed to see his brother alive and breathing.

From previous recon he knew this warehouse had skylights on the roof, many of the old ones did, conveniently. The newer ones had started cutting that feature out, the airflow wasn’t worth the ease of spying and access. Jason pulled his grapple out and fired a shot upward.

The roof was the same corrugated steel as the walls, and Jason was careful to find a steel girder to follow up to the skylight. Both for the stealth it provided in muffling his footsteps and because he didn’t particularly want to join whatever was going on inside until he was good and ready.

When he got to the skylight he realized why there had been no gunfire. Nightwing was tied to a chair in the middle of a clearly nervous ring of goons. Something eased in Jason’s chest at the sight of his brother. He ignored how his breath came a little easier as he examined the situation below him.

Three goons were off to the side frantically gesturing to each other while four others circled Dick where he was tied to a chair in the middle of a mostly empty warehouse. A few crates were stacked along the walls, and the floor was clear, yielding very little cover from gunfire.

Objectively Jason knew Nightwing could get out of this. He looked mostly uninjured and was clearly quipping with the goons around him. The chair he was tied to was wooden. From this angle Jason couldn’t see the knots but he didn’t have too much faith in this crew given they hadn’t collected their commrads outside.

He had seen Dick. He was clearly alive and kicking, if not literally at the moment. He could leave now. His brother had this under control. Jason should leave.

Jason did not leave.

What he did do was burst through the skylight in a hail of glass on the three idiots to the side. He wasn’t risking glass hitting his brother even if he was wearing all his gear. He coasted down on his grapple, shooting two of the goons behind Nightwing. Dick flinched as the bullets whizzed past him and looked slightly shell shocked. Then Jason was on the ground and too busy punching and shooting to have time checking his brother’s reactions.

He avoided killshots where he could, he knew Nightwing believed Batman’s whole “We don’t kill” schtick. A few were unavoidable, particularly when two of them had the bright idea to turn their weapons on Nightwing.

The fight was quick, and once all the goons were down Jason went through them, zip tying their hands and feet and tossing away any clear weapons in easy reach. It was a sloppy job but Jason didn’t intend to stick around long enough for any missed weapons to become an issue.

Goons mostly secured, he turned to Nightwing who was still tied to the chair, what the fuck. He expected the bird to be out of his bonds by now. But when he blinked Dick was still there, staring at him brow furrowed in the way Jason recognized as confusion. Then he shifted and was all easygoing grins. The kind of tell me all your secrets grin Nightwing was known for. 

“So, what brings you to this neighborhood, Hood?” Nightwing said with a laugh at his own joke. 

“This is my neighborhood.”

“Fancy that.” The grin didn’t falter. It wasn’t what Jason expected from his brother the first time they saw each other. He had expected something, he didn’t know what, but something more than Dick treating him like just another Gotham villian. An emotion pushed through his chest up into his throat, and he violently shoved it back down. Now was not the time. Ducra’s voice echoed in his head asking him when the time would be, but he ignored her.

“The goons are dealt with, no need to stay in the chair,”

“I’m quite comfortable right where I am, thanks,” Dick said, head tilting to the side, looking for all the world like a curious bird. Jason knew he was analyzing everything that had happened so far, trying to fit it all together. Jason resisted pinching the nose of his helmet.

“Seriously Dickhead, just get up and leave, I’m not gonna do anything to ya.” That made Dick freeze. Jason caught the barest of flinches at the old nickname.

When Dick still didn’t stand up or make any move for his ankles Jason sighed and moved toward his brother, shifting around the chair.

“Hey now, no need for that, I really am quite comfortable right here. You can be on your way now,” Dick insisted. And that was definitely a distraction. Dick didn’t want him to see something.

Jason ignored him and as he rounded the chair enough to see the back of the chair, he let out a low curse as he realized why. Dicks fingers were mangled and there was a dark spot on the back of his right shoulder. Dick couldn’t untie the knots or try and wriggle out with injuries like that. 

Dick’s purposefully relaxed posture stiffened at Jason’s swear, and he caught the telltale twitch of an aborted flinch.. 

“Let’s get you out of this, and preferably out of this warehouse before Sionis sends someone to check on his crew,” Jason said.

“I really am good right here, no need for a secondary location thanks,” Nightwing’s forced cheer was back in full force. Jason knew if he looked that his vicious smile would be back too.

“Well tough luck, I’m not leaving you here for Sionis.”

“What, so you can keep me all to yourself?” Dick asked.

Jason ignored him, crouched down behind his brother and started on the knots. It seemed the goons had gone for quantity of quality. After the third flinch Jason gave up on trying to untie them and used a knife to cut Dick’s wrists free, despite the risk of the double edged blade Jason was forced to use..

The minute Dick’s hands were free he twisted in the chair and Jason had to dodge an elbow headed straight for his face. Well, his helmet. He took a few steps back, well out of range of any elbows or fists.

“Fuck Dickhead! What was that for” Jason said, staring at the side of his brother’s face where he had turned partially to watch Jason. Except it wasn’t Dick Grayson looking out of those white lenses, it was Nightwing. Jason felt another stab of emotion. This one got stuck in his throat and took several seconds to push back down. Jason was infinitely thankful he had chosen a full face helmet. For all Talia and his teachers had tried, Jason never mastered the ability to keep a straight face.

After a few deep breaths Jason broke the starting contest to come around to stand in front of Nightwing again. He knelt down in front of the hero and looked up at the man’s wary expression. Nightwing had brought his hands around to the front and had them held close to his chest just above his heart. Jason felt his face wince in sympathy, broken fingers were a bitch.

“If I untie your feet are you going to behave?” Jason asked. Nightwing stared back, his entire body coiled in tension.

“Sure,” Nightwing agreed, smiling. This was a gentler smile than earlier, he was clearly trying for easygoing, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes and there was too much tension in the rest of his body for the effect to work.

“Look Dickhead, just let me get you out of here.”

“Stop calling me that,” Nightwing snapped. 

“Huh?”

“That name, you keep using it.”

“Dickhead?” Jason asked and this time caught the visible flinch even as Dick tried to hide it.

“I’m Nightwing.”

“When have I ever called you Nightwing, and you’re being an ass. I’ll stop calling you Dickhead when you stop being one.”

Jason stood up and stepped back immediately once Dick’s feet were released. He was not risking an attempt to kick him in the face. When he looked back up to Dick’s face all he saw was confusion that morphed into grief and then into anger.

“I don’t know who you think you are, or what game you think you’re playing, but only one person has ever called me Dickhead. And he’s dead.” Suddenly Dick went from sitting still to a whirlwind of movement. He kept his hands at his chest, but used Jason’s surprise to get in close and swing with his elbows. 

Jason dodged backward clumsily, busy trying to work out what the hell was going on in Dick’s head. He brought his hands up too late and Dick managed a good hit on his helmet that knocked his head to the side. Jason’s feet weren’t fully under him and some quick footwork by Dick brought him down, Dick straddling his chest, too high for Jason to buck him off even with his larger bulk.

From his new position on the floor of the warehouse Jason looked up into the white lenses of an angry Nightwing. Underneath the rage Jason could see Dick’s grief. It was odd to think of his brother mourning him. They hadn’t been particularly close when Jason died.

A furious Nightwing was dangerous. But Dick was injured and Jason’s hands were free. Even if he couldn’t buck him off there were a thousand other moves Jason could use to free himself. He didn’t try any of them.

“Don’t you ever, ever , think you can use Robin against me.” The man above him growled, and suddenly everything slotted into place.

“He never told you,” Jason breathed, recontextualizing the entire encounter. His brother’s indifference and active attacks made much more sense if he thought Jason was just another rouge. “Fuck,” he followed up eloquently.

Nightwing’s eyes narrowed. “Never told me what?”

Jason noticed he didn’t ask  who .

“Bruce never told you who I am.” Jason slowly reached up and unlatched his helmet telegraphing his moves. Even without hands and with an injured shoulder Nighwing could do a lot of damage. Instead Dick just watched in confusion as Jason took off the helmet.

“Hey Dickibird,” he smiled up at his brother. “It’s me.” Dick’s eyes widened, then drew down again in confusion.

“No,” He said, then his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped forward onto Jason’s face. Jason laid there for a second trying to process what had just happened.

“Shit,” Jason said. He brought his arms up to shift Dick and felt a familiar sticky wetness. The man had lost way more blood than Jason thought, he must have been running on anger alone. Carefully he sat them up, holding his brother in his lap slumped into his chest now. Nightwing’s head rested against his shoulder, face nestled into his unprotected neck. Jason tried to not to think about what another family member had done when presented with his neck unarmored.

Taking his gloves off with his teeth, he deftly disabled the security on Dick’s suit and slid it off his torso, gently peeling it away where it was stuck to the skin with blood. A quick examination of the wound indicated the bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and was still somewhere inside. His brother passing out, and the amount of blood on the Nightwing suit suggested a blood transfusion might be necessary.

Jason might be able to get the bullet out, but a blood transfusion without the proper medications and materials was a huge risk. Looking at Dick’s mangled fingers Jason realized they weren’t cleanly snapped. He couldn’t set these, they would need x-rays and likely a surgeon for Dick to keep full mobility.

Looks like they were headed to a hospital. Since Leslie’s had closed for some reason while he was gone, that meant civilian clothes. They definitely couldn’t just waltz into Gotham General dressed as vigilantes.

As quickly as he could, Jason stripped the Nightwing suit and replaced it with clothes from one of the goons. Then he grabbed the pile of gear the goons had stripped from nightwing before tying him up. Throwing that all into a backpack he’d found, he put some C4 on the chair and rigged it to blow in 5 minutes. He hefted his brother in a bridal carry and walked out.

Jason’s bike was an absolute beauty. It had once been a Ducati, but was customized almost beyond recognition. Even the engine had been altered to account for the fact that the chassis was fully armored. The weight had been a compromise against the incredibly satisfying ability to drive into and out of gunfights without having to rebuild the engine every time.

Unfortunately while it was an amazing motorcycle and could go from 0 to 60 in 2.8 seconds it was still a bike, not exactly ideal for passengers even when they were awake. And Jason’s potential passenger very much wasn’t. With a sigh Jason turned and dumped the backpack and helmet behind a nearby dumpster. Then he stripped his signature jacket, the visibly armored shirt below and the most obvious of his guns and holsters. The pants were padded, but not clearly reinforced kevlar. It would have to do.

Everything got shoved behind the dumpster. With a last glance at the hiding spot and a prayer that nobody would find it before he had time to come back Jason carried his brother out of the alley in search of a car to borrow.

Two blocks away Jason found an Xterra that looked like it might actually start and wouldn’t break down halfway to the hospital. A quick jimmy at the window, and Jason had Dick secured in the passenger seat. It was the work of a minute to get the car running and on the road. He wondered why the owner didn’t have more anti theft measures then realized the fact that it was stickshift was probably deterrent enough.

Jason thanked his lucky stars for a car with a functioning starter and a clearly well taken care of engine. Then he looked over at the man currently bleeding all over the passenger seat looking paler by the second and reconsidered that thought.

Jason broke every traffic law between the street corner he’d borrowed the car from and the hospital. He nearly lost control of the truck after the first corner he’d taken maybe a bit too fast for a truck this tall. Then he’d registered it was rear wheel drive and grinned. He had used that to his advantage the rest of the trip and drifted his way through Gotham like a rally car and not an ancient truck.

When he pulled up in front of Gotham General’s ER he spared a thought for the ruined tires he could smell burning as he vaulted the hood, sliding across to reach the passenger door. As carefully as he could he unbuckled his brother and picked him up in a bridal carry, holding him close to his chest.

As he was forced to pause and wait for the automatic sliding doors to open wide enough he noticed the sign to the left of the doors. ‘Valet Parking Only. No Manuals’. He huffed a little laugh and wished whatever kid was on duty good luck with the stolen stick shift abandoned behind him, tires still smoking.

The ER was blinding after the darkness of Gotham, and Jason had to pause and blink in the face of the too bright fluorescents. 

“What are you here for?” A woman asked when he made it to the desk.

“Male, Single GSW to the back of the right shoulder, likely 9mm. Bullet is still inside, possibly hollow-point. Multiple fingers are fractured. Blood type A positive and needs a blood transfusion,” Jason rattled off. 

“Okay,” The lady said, “What is his name and do you have his health insurance card?” In typical Gotham fashion she was completely unphased.

“Get a fucking doctor here with a bed now,” Jason snarled. He could feel Dick’s blood soaking into the black of his undershirt.

“Sir there are many patients at Gotham General, I need to get you into the system and a doctor will make the call on which patients need medical attention the fastest.”

“Lady, I’m a field medic, he needs a blood transfusion and this bullet out of his fucking shoulder. If my brother dies because you were more interested in getting his insurance information than getting him a doctor I-”

“I’ve got this Jenna,” A short woman with close cropped grey hair said, coming around the corner. Jason turned to snarl at her and then heard the sound of a hospital bed being wheeled toward them. The woman was wearing a white doctor’s coat with a button-up shirt below. The shirt was wrinkled and her sleeves were rolled up her forearms to just below the elbow. Her face had the beginnings of laugh lines at the corner of her mouth and eyes.

“You said GSW to the shoulder?” She asked, looking at Jason. He stared at her for a moment startled out of his anger, and then registered that she was asking him and not the lady behind the desk, Jenna apparently.

“Yes, single GSW, probably 9mm. Back of the right shoulder, no exit wound. There was significant movement of the shoulder post injury so the bullet probably shifted. There’s a chance it was hollow-point, but I’m not sure.” God Jason prayed it wasn't a hollow-point.

The bed was pulled up in front of him, pushed by a nurse in the standard blue scrubs of Gotham General. Jason gently placed dick on his side in the bed, careful not to jostle his hands. 

“What happened here?” The doctor asked, looking at the mangled fingers.

“I don’t know, but they’re not clean breaks. They need surgery.”

“Is he an artist?”

“What?” Jason said, looking up from his brother’s pale face to meet the tired eyes of the doctor. “I don’t-”

“Does he use his hands for delicate work, it affects the type of surgery.” The doctor said calmly.

“Oh.” Jason thought about the way Dick’s fingers curled around the trapeze, the careful way his fingers had wrapped around Jason’s to guide him in picking a particularly difficult lock.

“Yes.” The woman’s eyebrow raised. “He’s a gymnast. Among other things,” Jason clarified.

“Ah, thank you,” She said. Then she turned her attention to Dick. “We will take him back now. You can give Jenna the necessary information. The waiting room is over there, we will contact you when there’s something to know.” Then she turned to the nurse and pulled a pager off her hip. “405 please Nick.” Before Jason registered they had turned the corner out of sight.

“What is the name of the patient?” Jenna asked.

“Dick Grayson,” Jason responded, still staring after the corner Dick had disappeared behind.

“And yours, sir?”

“Jason.”

“Thank you. Does your brother have health insurance?” Jenna asked.

“Huh-” Jason looked over at her and then what he’d said registered. He cursed himself out in his head. “Uhhh, probably.” Jason settled on.

“Okay, we can handle that later. Can I have a phone number and name of the person of contact.”

That jerked Jason the rest of the way to the present. He had checked Dick in under his real name, which meant someone at some point was bound to make the connection and call Bruce. Jason stared at Jenna mouth open for a second. He might think of Dick as his brother, but Bruce sure as hell wasn’t his dad anymore. Were they still brothers?

“Sir, I do need a number, even if you can’t give a last name.” Jenna still spoke with the same patient calm she had said when Jason came in. 

“Bruce Wayne,” Jason finally said. There wasn’t another option, and the man was going to get called either way. He rattled off the number for Wayne Manor. “The butler will probably pick up, Alfred.” The name was rough in Jason’s throat. Jason opened his mouth to continue but Jenna cut him off.

“Thank you, would you like to inform Mr Wayne yourself?”

“Fuck no,” Jason said before his brain caught up with his mouth.

“Then that is everything I need for now. The waiting room is over there, and the bathroom is just beyond for you to clean up. The doctors will keep you informed since you’re family.” Jenna looked up and smiled politely at him. Jason wondered if she was an android then nearly rolled his eyes at his own idiocy. This was Gotham, for her it was probably just a normal Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Thursday? Whatever.

“Thanks.” Jason turned and walked to the waiting room on automatic.

The waiting room was more of a wide hallway with a doorway on the far side, and a hole in the wall covered in bulletproof glass creating a desk. A couple teenagers grouped to the left had a variety of knives, and a girl by the desk had a taser and pepper spray. The older couple in the back corner by the doorway on the other side sat hand in hand and didn’t have anything visible. There wasn’t really a defensible place to sit, but Jason walked to one with the best vantage point.

Before he could sit down the old woman gasped.

“Sir are you alright?” She was already standing up to come toward him, her husband turning toward the window.

“I’m fine,” Jason said, confused as to why she was asking. He held up his hands in an attempt at a reassuring gesture and realized they were covered in blood. He registered that his shirt and sleeves were stiff with drying blood, and everything felt sticky. No wonder Jenna had recommended the bathroom.

“Oh, It’s not mine.” It was Dick’s. His brother who he had just found out was still alive and might die anyway. Jason took a breath and reminded himself of the statistics on surviving gunshot wounds. The survival rate once at the hospital was high. Dick would be fine.

The woman was looking at him, concern deepening the lines of her face. He smiled at her, but it felt more like a grimace.

“I’m just gonna go clean up.” He gestured to the hallway beyond and then made his escape.

Jason watched the blood from his hands wash down the sink. The soap was thin and shitty, but he kept at it until the water ran clear. There wasn’t much to be done about the shirt. It was black at least, and the blood didn’t  show too much.

He risked a glance in the mirror and froze at what he saw. There was blood smeared on his neck and along his jawline disappearing into his black undershirt. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. He looked like a witness in shock. Hell, he would have given himself a shock blanket. Fuck .

He bent down over the low sink and scrubbed at his face. There were no paper towels here, just blow dryers, probably cheaper. He reached to untuck his shirt and paused when he remembered it too was soaked in blood and his sleeves weren’t any better. He resigned himself to the wetness and stood up, face still dripping.

When he came back out to the waiting room, two police officers were at the window speaking to someone on the other side. Jason realized they were probably here for him. Gunshots were common in Gotham, but still required at least a cursory police investigation. Even if it was just, ask questions and lose the answers once you got back to the station.

His steps faltered. He had given Dick’s real name, identified himself as Jason, and called Dick his brother. Jason Todd was dead, he was the Red Hood, and he had no good explanation for where or how his brother had ended up with mangled fingers and a bullet in the back. Also there was an obviously stolen Xterra that had just broken about twelve traffic laws on camera driving over here idling in the parking lot. There was absolutely no way the police were going to let him walk out of here.

Unfortunately the police were between him and the only exit from this hallway. He was going to have to fight them. Jason spared a glance up at the camera. This was going to have to be clumsy. Jason calmly walked into the waiting room, headed for the exit on the other side.

“Sir,” One of the officer’s called from behind him just as he was almost all the way across. Jason ignored him and kept going. “Sir!” Called much louder this time, was followed by a hand on his shoulder.

Jason brushed off the hand and ran for it. The police officers, startled, took a moment to follow. Jason rounded the corner, passing Jenna’s desk and was relieved to see a silhouette on the other side of the sliding doors already beginning to open. 

They slid open enough for Jason to get through and suddenly he found himself face to face with Bruce. He was in a tux, and smelled of expensive cologne, the smell reminded Jason of wood walls and the feeling of a gentle hand on his shoulder. Jason froze staring at the man who had once been his father.

It was so different than the last time. This was Bruce, not Batman. His face was creased in concern and he looked older, more human than the last time Jason had seen him just two months ago. This was a Bruce Wayne coming from a fancy party, concerned for his son and Jason realized he wouldn’t have known. If Jason hadn’t found Dick when he had Nightwing might have died in that warehouse. Batman would have been too late. Again.

Rage boiled through Jason. Bruce was staring at him, clearly just as shocked as Jason. Without conscious thought he found himself punching his father’s face. Bruce stumbled back staring at Jason still in shock.

“Take better care of your birds,” He snarled at the man and then brushed past him, breaking into a run away from the hospital. He had gear and his bike to recover before some enterprising kid found everything first.

Chapter Text

Dick woke to the distant sound of beeping and the cloying smell of antiseptic. Blinking his eyes open he was assaulted with bright fluorescent lights. He was definitely in a hospital. He must have really fucked up. 

The last thing he remembered was going to investigate a warehouse as Nightwing. And getting shot, he definitely remembers the feeling of the bullet punching through his armor. That might explain the hospital, but it hadn’t felt like the kind of wound to need a hospital and not just the cave.

Maybe he had been found by somebody, he definitely remembered being rescued. He didn’t feel his mask, but he also couldn’t feel much of anything at the moment. Reaching up to check, his fingers didn’t move the way he expected them to. Dick braved the horrid fluorescents to look down at his hands and saw nearly all his fingers had some kind of splint. 

Oh yeah, there’d been a bat, and he hadn’t moved fast enough. They had hit his fingers, and then his head. Given the fuzziness of the memories there must have been a concussion, everything was jumbled and out of order in a way not just explained by blood loss from a bullet hole. He remembers being worried about the blood loss, and not being able to untie the knots. Distracting someone so they wouldn’t notice he was helpless, gunfire, red.

The Red Hood had rescued him. That was definitely a thing Dick remembered. Everything was a bit confused, but he remembered Red Hood killing Sionis’ goons, and then untying him, but not much after that. He knows they talked, but he can’t remember anything either of them said.

The door to the room opened and Dick tried to look over, forgetting the lights. The pain was definitely better than before, but still not fun and he closed them again quickly. 

“You’re awake.” Dick relaxed at Bruce’s voice. “How are you feeling Chum?” Bruce asked and dick heard the rustle as he sat down in the chair near Dick’s head.

Dick opened his mouth to answer but all that came out was a croak. 

“Oh, here,” Bruce said. A few seconds later something bumped his lips and he opened them to capture a straw and drink the cool water. If he kept his eyes at slits he could sort of see, at least the cup and Bruce’s hand. By the time he was done drinking the cup was mostly empty and he was able to open his eyes almost all the way.

“How’s that?” Bruce asked as he pulled the cup away.

“Better,” Dick said, his voice working this time. Looking over at Bruce, he saw the man was wearing a rumpled black tux, the jacket open, top buttons undone and bow-tie nowhere to be seen.

“You’re at Gotham General, it’s 4pm on Saturday.  You were brought here last night. You had a bullet wound in your shoulder, and your fingers were broken. They gave you a blood transfusion, set your fingers, and removed the bullet. I’ve arranged for following surgery for your fingers to make sure they heal properly.”

Dick hummed. That all made sense with what he remembered. Except for the part where he had been injured as a cape and he was definitely here as a civilian.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I was working,” Dick started, conscious of the fact they were in a public space. “There’s a warehouse down in the Bowery I went to check out.” 

“Dick I’ve told you to stay out of that area.” Bruce sounded exasperated.

“And you’ve also refused to explain why,” Dick shot back.

Bruce sighed. “This isn’t the time for that argument. Just, what do you remember?”

Dick wanted to push, ask why he’d brought it up, but held his tongue. As frustrating as it was to admit, this wasn’t the time or place.

“It was more occupied than I expected. I got caught. Then Red Hood showed up.”

“What did he do?” Bruce’s tone was dark.

“Untied me. I remember fighting, and we definitely spoke, but everything gets a bit blurry after the goons took a baseball bat to my head.”

“That’s it?” Bruce asked, completely focused on Dick. It was the look Batman gave to criminals when he thought they were hiding something.

“Yes. That’s it,” Dick said, irritated now. “I don’t know what’s up with you and him, but that’s no reason to take it out on me.” Dick knew there was something between those two. Bruce had been cagey about him since the first day he showed up. There had been some kind of massive fight, and he had issued a ban on anyone going near Red Hood’s territory. That had been about the time Bludhaven was destroyed and Dick had been too distracted since to care much.

“You’re right.” Bruce deflated. “He’s the one who brought you in. He changed you into civilian clothes, dumped the helmet and guns, stole a junker of a truck, and carried you into Emergency.”

“What? Red Hood unmasked me?” The monitor clearly displayed his increased heart rate as his mind spun.

“Evidence suggests he knew who you were prior to the unmasking.” Bruce said. Dick’s brain ground to a halt. Staring at Bruce his mind churned through everything and slowly he registered that Bruce didn’t seem surprised by that knowledge. He narrowed his eyes waiting for any elaboration on that too calm statement.

As the silence stretched on Dick felt his anger rising. Bruce hiding things was par for the course, and Dick had let him keep his secrets about the Red Hood, but if the rogue knew their identities that was completely different. Even as the adrenaline flooded his system he felt the pain meds he was on start to swamp his thinking. He was out between one blink and the next.

Once he was home and recovered enough to do more than lay in bed he found Bruce curiously absent from every room he entered. Bruce definitely knew something. If Red Hood knew who they were, that affected the whole family. With no Bruce to confront Dick couldn’t find an explanation for why the man had saved Dick, or apparently gone to the effort of keeping his identity secret. Because that’s what the evidence was pointing to. The man had changed Dick into civilian clothes before taking him to a hospital.

Dick hadn’t been in the hospital long enough to get any information from the staff about who had brought him in. A week after leaving the hospital, Dick looked up the incident file on the batcomputer. He had finished his report earlier, but he knew Bruce had probably pulled all the relevant medical data and footage from the hospital. When he opened the folder, however, there was nothing. Well there was Dick’s report, and his medical file, but no footage or even Bruce’s report on the incident.

Dick refreshed the folder as if that was going to make the additional data materialize. Unsurprisingly it did nothing. Still just the same two files. Every attempt to open Red Hood’s file had been met with a request for a password Dick didn’t have. With a sigh of frustration Dick closed the file and spun the chair in a circle thinking.

Bruce had stonewalled every attempt to ask about Red Hood prior to the Warehouse Incident. Now he had disappeared. This level of avoidance from Bruce never meant anything good. The last time it had happened had been when Stephanie was Robin, just before everything went to hell. Apparently Bruce had learned nothing.

Folding forward out of the chair and into a one-handed handstand Dick turned everything over in his head. With Bruce doing his best impression of an invisible brick wall, and the batcomputer files either missing or locked, there was no information to be had in the Manor or Cave. Careful to keep the arm with the injured shoulder steady, Dick slowly shifted his legs in and out of different splits. Bending and straightening them as he considered the problem, twisting it around in his head like a rubix cube.

It seemed the only two people who knew anything about the problem were Bruce and the Red Hood, he had already eliminated Bruce as a source. That left the Red Hood. Dick paused, realizing the solution was staring him in the face. Dick would just have to ask the man himself.

Red Hood had gone to some effort to not only rescue Dick from a warehouse full of goons and deliver him to a hospital, but also to preserve his identity in the process. Whatever was going on with him and Bruce he didn’t seem to be a danger to Dick. Thinking back to when they had first fought, Dick was surprised to realize he had never taken a shot at Dick. He’d shot plenty at Bruce, but even then nothing had landed. With the precision Dick remembered from the warehouse, at least some of those should have landed. Even the machine gun set-up had been clearly aimed at Freeze and Black Mask’s lackeys, Dick and Bruce weren’t the goal. Red Hood wasn’t a real danger to him.

Talking to Red Hood, however, required waiting until he was recovered enough to go out as Nightwing. It wasn’t like the man was going to wander into the Cave and sit down to have a chat over tea. Straightening his legs out he bent backward away from the chair in front of him into a backbend and stood up.

“If you are done, Master Dick,” Alfred said from the bottom of the stairs. Dick jumped whirling to face him. It was easy to forget the man was as sneaky as any of the vigilantes in the house. “It is past time for your next dosage of painkillers, and the physical therapist for your hand will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Right. I’ll be right up.”

“Of course Master Dick.” Alfred’s voice made it clear he would tolerate nothing less.

Dick spent his remaining recovery time planning out how to approach Red Hood and what questions to ask. For every elaborate plot he came up with he found three more ways Red Hood could weasel out of it. Red Hood had proved to be squirrely, and Dick predicted finding him would be the hardest part.

In the end he turned out to be completely wrong. Bruce was still doing his disappearing act, and Dick was released for solo patrol with strict instructions to take care and stick strictly to reconnaissance. Dick made his way toward Red Hood’s territory expecting to do some light snooping of traffic patterns and possible warehouses.

Dick hadn’t been in the Bowery ten minutes before Red Hood flipped up onto the roof Dick had paused on briefly. It was a move far more acrobatic that Dick would have expected out of a man as broad as Red Hood.

As they regarded each other from across the roof Dick got a good look at the body armor the man was wearing and wondered if he might be less bulky than the open leather jacket and cargo pants implied. He also noted that it was good body armor. Whether by his own business or an outside source, Red Hood was funded.

-*-

Jason stared across the roof at his brother. He had seen that Dick Grayson had been released from the hospital following a mugging, so he knew the man was alive. But that wasn’t the same thing as seeing him in person, moving across the rooftops with the same gravity defying grace as always. Only years of familiarity and personal training from the man himself let Jason recognize that he was swinging more with his left arm, favoring his right shoulder.

Cautiously, Jason stayed on the other side of the roof from Nightwing. He knew he should have stayed away, he was unlikely to get a good reception if Bruce was anything to go by. Hell, last time they met Nightwing had tried to take him out despite being nine kinds of fucked up. Jason had been determined to stay away. But then his brother had swung into his territory on what appeared to be his first day out since the injury and all his resolve had crumbled.

The silence stretched between them, beginning to border on awkward. Jason arched an eyebrow, then remembered he was wearing the full helmet and tilted his head to the side in question. Dick had come to his territory, Jason was going to let him lead the conversation. Last time Jason had tried to lead and it had ended up with Dick in the hospital more injured than when Jason had found him.

Dick stared back at him, then, with the most awkward movement Jason had ever seen, gave a little wave.

“Hi,” Dick said grinning sheepishly. It was so typically Dick Jason couldn’t stop himself from snorting. His vocoder distorted the sound into a buzzing crackle and he didn’t know if he was thankful it hid his emotions or not.

“What brings you out to this rooftop on this fine evening?” Dick asked when the silence had stretched out well beyond awkward. Jason definitely regretted the helmet this time, there was no easy way to convey the absolute stupidity of that comment with body language alone.

Jason made a show of looking up at the cloudy sky and back at Nightwing. It wasn’t a fine night, it wasn’t even a decent night by Gotham standards. It was cold and drizzling. Not even a proper rain that ran off umbrellas and coats, just an inescapable spitting that seemed like nothing until five steps later you realized somehow you were damp through. It was the kind of weather Jason hated as a kid.

“Not much of a conversationalist are you.”

“You came to my territory,” Jason said, shrugging. “I figured you had something to say.”

“Well I wasn’t exactly expecting you to show up,” Dick responded.

“Then what were you expecting?” Jason asked, crossing his arms. Dick just shrugged. “Look you didn’t want to have anything to do with me last time we met, what changed?” Jason didn’t know why he asked. He didn’t know what Dick remembered from the warehouse if he even remembered anything. He didn’t want to hope anymore.

“You saved my life, and protected my identity,” Dick said, like Jason would have done anything else.

“A thank you card would have sufficed. No need to come all the way out here. So what do you want, Nightwing?” Jason stumbled over the name. Dick was being friendly and Jason didn’t want to get in another fight because he used a nickname.

“I want to know why. Why you saved me, why Batman won’t talk to me about you. I want to know how you know who we are.”

Jason was glad this time to be wearing the helmet as he felt his whole face twist. He managed to keep his body from flinching, but only barely. Dick didn’t remember, or didn’t believe it if he did. He unfolded his arms to unlatch the helmet, but dropped them to his sides instead. He had thought Bruce would accept him, would do the one thing he needed. The scar on his neck throbbed in time with his rabbiting heart.

Dick wasn’t attacking him, he was actively seeking Red Hood out. Jason couldn’t lose this. Even if Dick never knew, if all Jason ever got was the relationship between Nightwing and Red Hood, that would be okay. Jason didn’t think he would survive his brother rejecting him.

“Dead birds are bad for business,” Jason settled on. “I don’t know why you think I would know anything about how Batman’s brain works, I’m not a mind reader.”

“But you know who we are.”

“Yes. And I’m not going to tell anyone. Whether you believe me or not, your identities are safe with me.”

“You didn’t answer how you know.” Dick’s voice was full of confusion, his brows scrunched together in frustration. He took a step toward Jason.

“Guess you’ll just have to ask the old man yourself,” Jason said. He was done with this conversation. Dick was fine, he was healing. Jason didn’t need to know more than that. He took a step back toward the edge of the roof behind him.

“Wait,” Dick shouted, reaching out as he realized what Jason was about to do.

“No can do, I have places to be, people to kill and all that.” Then Jason jumped, catching the fire escape he’d used to get up to the roof, swinging down to the ground, and sliding into an adjacent narrow alley, hiding in an alcove. To Nightwing it would seem like he had vanished. He stood there a long time, giving Dick time to get tired of searching, or at least move his search farther away before heading out. He did actually have plans for tonight.

-*-

Dick stared after where the Red Hood had vanished. After a minute he dropped his hand from where it had instinctively gone to his grapple. He had only chased Hood once, but that had been enough to cement in his brain that he wouldn’t be able to catch the man. Even more so in the man’s own territory. Instead he turned and headed back home. There was plenty of time left in the night, but his mind was churning, trying to process the conversation. And he wanted to be in the cave when Bruce got back. Dick was done letting Bruce avoid him.

Settled back in the chair at the bat computer, Dick uploaded his mask footage and reviewed the conversation with Hood, looking for any tells, any information he could glean from the short conversation.

He watched the man’s body twist as he came over the parapet on the roof, running the footage backward and forward. There was something familiar in the man’s motions. Dick couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing a major piece of the puzzle. He wished he could go back and watch the old footage, but that was all locked in the Red Hood file Dick still hadn’t managed to get into.

Eventually Dick gave up on watching the same movements and modulated audio and went over to the mats for a light stretching routine, hoping the movement would help him think. He was debating what he could bribe Tim with to hack into the locked files when the batmobile roared into the cave.

Dick unfolded himself from his current stretch and made his way over to the car as the door to Bruce’s side opened.

“We need to talk,” Dick said, as Batman got out of the car. The man just grunted and tried to walk past Dick. “No. You don’t get to avoid this anymore. I spoke to Red Hood today. He knows who we are. That affects all of us.”

“I told you to stay away from him, he’s dangerous.”

“He saved my life, Bruce. He didn’t even try to hurt me even though I fought him. Today he came to me, and he didn’t do anything but talk. He’s clearly known our identities for a while and never done anything with the information. What are you hiding.”

“Nothing you need to know. I’m not discussing him with you. He’s off limits, do not engage with him again.”

“Because keeping secrets from everyone worked out so well last time,” Dick snarled, satisfied when that got a flinch from Batman. He had read Stephanie’s autopsy report. He saw it in his dreams, the damage overlaid on her form still in the robin suit standing next to Jason.

“This is different,” Bruce insisted, pushing past Dick. 

“Is it really?” Dick called after Batman’s retreating back. “Because from where I’m standing it sure as hell doesn’t look it!” Dick resisted the urge to grab Bruce and physically shake the answers out of him. That was a fight he wouldn’t win.

As Batman’s form disappeared into the shower area Dick whirled around and went to the training area. He desperately wanted to hit something, but his hands were still healing. Instead he went through katas, running through every style he had ever learned. When he ran out of styles he started over. Hopefully if he exhausted himself enough he wouldn’t dream tonight. Wouldn’t see two dead robins staring back at him, wouldn’t dream of Tim joining them, body broken and bloody, sightless eyes staring at him in accusation.

Chapter Text

Jason stared at the ceiling of this week’s safehouse. No matter how much he tried to sleep his brain kept running through the conversation he’d had earlier with Dick. Had he made the right decision not to say anything? Would Dick really reject him like Bruce? Bruce had made it clear what he thought of Jason’s resurrection when he tried to reverse it with a battarang. He didn’t have answers and his brain spun in endless circles of what-ifs.

Skin buzzing, Jason eventually decided that if he couldn’t sleep he might as well get something done. He rolled out of bed and pulled out the box with his plans for Robin.

When Jason had learned of his replacement he had trashed the room he was in. Bruce had replaced him. He’d died and Bruce had not only left his killer alive he had gone out and found a new model.

The rage hadn’t gone away with time, only chilled to something like ice in his chest. A different kind of burn, but a burn nonetheless. Jason had developed a plan to confront the replacement. He was going to make it slow, like his death had been slow. The kid favored a bo staff, Jason wanted to tear it away, turn his own weapon against him.

He imagined the moment Robin realized he was outclassed and there was nowhere to go. The way the spark in his eyes would die when he knew he wasn’t getting out of the fight alive. He thought about Bruce’s devastation when he found the bird dead. Jason should have been the last Robin, but he was going to make damn sure his replacement was. No more kid soldiers fighting the crusade of a man who didn’t care. No more Robins.

Centering himself Jason took all the rage and focused it on his notes. He had done research on several locations and narrowed it down to three feasible ones. Drake Manor where the kid lived, on Jason’s turf in Crime Alley, and Titans Tower where Robin ran his own team. 

Crime Alley was the easiest but the kid hadn’t come anywhere near it. He didn’t even skim the edge of Jason’s territory on his patrols with Batman. Drake Manor would also be relatively easy, it would show that robins weren’t safe even out of uniform. But there was something off about it. This was about Robin, not the person currently holding the position and he wanted the location to highlight that. Titans Tower was the remaining location and the best for the point he was trying to make.

Jason pushed down the feeling of bitterness that this Robin got a team just like Dick had. Jason hadn’t even been accepted by Dick’s old team, let alone been allowed to run his own.

He ran through a breathing exercise Talia had taught him, remembering her stern face and gentle voice. Then, deliberately, he pulled out the few photos and schematics of Titans Tower he had managed to scrounge from the local records. Thank god for permitting requirements in San Francisco.

Half an hour later he had figured out where the door was, and mapped out a path for getting there. The security was a major issue. He was a decent coder, but he also knew his limits. There was no way he was hacking the Tower system.

His brain wandered back to the conversation with Dick. If his brother didn’t know he was back, he doubted Tim did either. When he’d first arrived in Gotham he’d discovered his codes were still active in the bat-system. He’d never used the information, deeming it  too risky.

Batman knew Jason was back now, and had likely thrown him out of the Gotham system, but he didn’t control the Teen Titans system. Had Dick or Tim thought to remove the old Robin’s access? It was dangerous to test before getting on site. If even the smallest trace was noticed, his codes would be immediately wiped.

He had learned in London to always have three exits and a backup plan. As much as Batman had tried to teach him before, Jason had always learned best through experience. Eventually he decided Titans Tower would be plan A. If he got there and his codes didn’t work he would just leave. He could kidnap the kid from patrol elsewhere in Gotham, and bring him back to Crime Alley as a backup.

-*-

Two nights later Jason was back on patrol. He stood over the latest idiot breaking his rules on his turf. The rapist was lying on the ground where Jason had knocked him, squirming toward his dropped knife. Jason took a step forward placing himself between the man and the knife, putting one boot on the man’s throat. 

“None of that now,” Jason said, gently pushing down until the man was lying on the ground on his back. He stopped just short of cutting off the man’s air.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” The man started babbling once he realized that he could still breathe.

“Are you really?” Slowly Jason pulled the gun from his thigh holster.

“No, please!”

“I believe you’re sorry you got caught, but sorry for trying to rape someone? I don’t think scum like you can be. I’ve made my rules clear.” Jason leveled the gun at the man’s head. Then he leaned more weight on his throat to ensure he would stay put. Just as he started squeezing the trigger something glinted and he stepped back off the man, lifting his gun arm out of the path of a blue birdarang. He drew a second gun from his shoulder holster on instinct leveling it at the movement in his peripheral. 

A blur of blue from above resolved into Nightwing landing in a crouch over the man at Jason’s feet, completely blocking any chance of a shot. Jason released the tension in his left trigger finger as he recognized his brother. Nightwing straightened up, and Jason took another step back, shifting his aim off Dick’s head and onto the bird emblem he knew could handle the caliber even at this range. His right hand lowered completely to point at the alley floor, as both fingers slid to the trigger guards.

“Fuck,” Jason swore, noting how Nightwing’s eyes cataloged his movements. “How hard is it to understand this is my turf and you bats aren’t welcome.” The helmet thankfully hid the shakiness in his voice. He’d nearly shot on instinct. Nightwing’s armor could survive a lot, but a headshot would be fatal. The guns Jason kept in his thigh holster were higher caliber than the ones in his shoulder holster, and currently he had armor piercing rounds loaded. The thin armor of the nightwing suit would shred like paper. Stupid acrobat prioritizing mobility over protection.

“I got bored, figured I’d see how you were doing,” Nightwing said with a sharp grin. His body was relaxed, ready to react to anything Jason tried.

“I’m doing fine, thanks, just taking out the trash.”

“I’m happy to take him off your hands for you. I’ll even deliver him right to the police and let them deal with him for you.”

“My territory, my rules. There aren’t many and they’re pretty clear. Don’t rape feels like a pretty simple one to follow. Not my fault he didn’t listen. Just my job to make sure he can’t do it again.”

“Please, I won’t. I promise,” the idiot on the ground interjected.

“The police can solve that for you,” Nightwing insisted, voice still light.

“Until they let him go for lack of evidence or some shit and he’s back on the street doing whatever he wants.” Of course Nightwing would want to take this bastard to the police, he believed the system still worked.

“Well he’s going with one of us, why don’t we ask him who he wants to take him?” Nightwing suggested with a shrug like this was a custody battle over a kid, not an argument between vigilantes over what to do with a rapist.

“Nightwing, I definitely want Nightwing!” the bastard cried. Jason sighed. Nightwing had his escrima out, ready to fight, and there was barely three feet between them. Jason would not win a close quarters battle with Dick Grayson.

“Fine. You win this one, Golden Boy,” Jason said as he holstered his guns, registering an aborted flinch from Nightwing at the nickname. He crouched down to make eye contact with the rapist on the ground past Nightwing’s legs. 

“I see you pulling this shit again and I’m cutting your dick off and shoving it down your throat.”

Nightwing glared disapprovingly. Jason rolled his eyes as he stood up, regretting the full helmet.

“I’ll cauterize it, he won’t bleed out. Happy?” Jason asked, meeting the blank white eyes of Nightwing’s mask. Dick tilted his head slightly in consideration.

“Yes I am.” Nightwing said after a pause, then he smiled, much more genuine than the one from earlier on.

“What, no, wait!”

“No, this is good,” Nightwing said, still smiling. He stepped to the side to look down on the man currently staring up in horror, eyes flickering between the two of them like he couldn’t believe his ears. “Compromise is important in a relationship. Red Hood is growing as a person.”

Jason blinked, surprised at Dick’s easy acquiescence to that level of violence. People underestimated Nightwing as the nice one because he smiled and laughed, but Jason knew better. The man fought with glorified cattle prods, just because he was chatty did not make him nice. But he still hadn’t expected his brother to be on board with castration.

Then what Dick had said registered. “We do not have a relationship.”

“Whatever you say Hood.

Jason huffed but he recognized a lost cause when he saw one. He turned and walked out of the alley, leaving Nightwing to handle the bastard. 

The interference didn’t stop there. Nightwing didn’t appear every night, but more nights than not Jason caught flashes of blue across his rooftops.

Jason didn’t actually have to stop crimes in progress as much as one would think. His rules were clear and had been enforced long enough that most people had stopped. Or at least learned to take the crime off his streets and out of his establishments. Most of his patrol time was just spent chatting with his people. People noticed patterns, and they noticed when patterns were broken. Broken patterns were vital for knowing what was changing in his territory. That was how he worked out the location and time of Roman’s latest shipment.

Red Hood had made a name for himself as a crime lord, and during his recovery from his confrontation with Batman Jason had started to actually take that seriously. He didn’t need to steal from Roman anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t fun.

The warehouse he’d found Nightwing at had been concerning, but Jason had hit dead ends in that investigation. It was clearly time to remind Roman that Red Hood hadn’t forgotten about him.

He crouched on a nearby roof looking down on the dock through the scope of his favorite rifle, his directional mic set up next to him feeding directly into his ear. He hadn’t wanted to place anything on the dock lest he spook either party. This was a new relationship for Roman since Jason had ruined enough of Black Mask’s previous shipments he’d been blacklisted by multiple suppliers.

The roof was cold below Jason’s body and the wind bit against his exposed trigger finger. He let himself sink into the focus where nothing mattered but him and what was in his scope. He focused on the boxes of potential goodies as the goons shifted them from the boat to the doc. The mic let him keep track of the conversation while he tracked the delivery with his scope.

Once both parties had arrived and the requisite pleasantries and posturing were complete a box was pried open to reveal a sampler of long range weaponry. The box was packed with three different types of guns. He recognized at least one of them as the new sidearm just released to the Indian Army. Jason could practically feel himself drooling. He didn’t like adding weapons to the Gotham landscape, but that didn’t stop him from needing to arm his men, or diminish his appreciation of them.

The conversation indicated the other boxes were more of the same. Jason had a few men on standby to help move anything he might turn up tonight and he was reaching for his phone to alert them when everything went to shit.

Suddenly the area was bathed in light and a loudspeaker started blaring instructions to freeze. Brilliant red and blue strobes flashed up from the surrounding alleys created by the stacked cargo containers.

“Fuck,” Jason swore, then followed it up with a few more in Arabic.

He watched the police round up Roman’s goons and the weapons dealers alike. Jason was going to have to actually find a weapons supplier and he couldn’t even steal this one from Sionis. He pulled away from the scope as the leader of the group loudly shouted his innocence from where he was being led to the paddy waggon by a bored looking officer. He pulled his helmet back on mournfully watching the police start cataloging the guns.

Jason whirled at a low appreciative sounding whistle from behind him, twisting to one knee a hand reaching for his ankle knife. Nightwing was standing a few meters away, hands carefully empty next to his thighs. Every line of his body carefully projecting relaxed and non-threatening. It rather lost the effect when Jason knew that his hands were hovering above hidden pockets containing battarangs.

“This is a nice setup,” he said grinning.

“This your doing asshole?” Jason was careful to keep away from any nicknames. He left his hand off the knife, but kept it hovering next to it.

“Figured you’d be happy to see Sionis get taken down a peg.” Dick sauntered closer.

“Would have been happier if I’d done it myself.”

Nightwing didn’t respond, shifting his attention past Jason and onto the organized chaos on the dock. It was a calculated move. Nightwing wasn’t going to start a fight, but Jason had no doubt he would finish one if Jason did.

With a sigh Jason turned toward his equipment, Nightwing helpfully shifted closer to the edge of the building making it easier to keep him in sight.

With practiced movements Jason disassembled his equipment and rifle, packing it all back into the custom case piece by piece. Nightwing was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the process. When Jason stood up slinging the case onto his back Nightwing was still surveying the cleanup.

“How long before those guns are back on the streets you think,” Jason said, coming to stand next to him.

“They won’t,” his brother said, firm as always in his belief.

“You can’t guarantee that.”

“I will personally make sure they are processed properly,” Nightwing said. “I didn’t do this to keep them away from you and Sionis just for them to end up back on the street.”

Jason felt a surge of anger, he could have made a difference with those guns, and Dick’s stupid righteous belief in the law was stopping him. He took a breath, starting a fight after the fact wasn’t going to help. Instead he gazed over at his brother, the lights seeming to make him glow against the dark harbor behind him. Something caught in his throat and it hurt as he swallowed around it.

He could tell him right now. Just take off the helmet and the mask and tell him. He could have his big brother back. The scar twinged with another hard swallow and he blinked water out of his burning eyes. He didn’t want to lose this. Nightwing was his enemy, but he was talking to him. He pushed to his feet and turned away, heading down the fire escape.

-*-

Dick rode into the cave on his bike. The bust against Sionis had been a success. He hadn’t known for sure Red Hood would be there, but he’d kept an eye out, it was the only reason he’d caught the glint of the rifle on a rooftop.

It had been a risk to engage. Red Hood had shown he had a vested interest in Dick’s wellbeing, and had refrained from fighting in their previous encounters. That had been a huge surprise when Dick had antagonized the man and interfered in his brand of retribution, the man had shrugged and walked away. Tonight he had been visibly angry about the bust, Dick had been expecting to have a pissed off crime lord after his head, and instead the guy had just packed up and left.

His set-up was top of the line and clearly customized. The man was funded in a way Dick didn’t think came just from his drug empire. The armor was one thing, but the gun was clearly custom. He had been surprised by the microphone, and something about its presence was bothering him. Like the flip onto the roof and the way the man seemed to read through every attempt at nonchalance. No matter how much Dick tried to project relaxed and non-threatening, the man always seemed to read through it.

Dick was thrown from his thoughts halfway to the showers when Bruce grunted from his seat at the batcomputer.

“What do you think you’re doing with the Red Hood?”

“What,?” He had been expecting to continue receiving Bruce’s disappearing act., being confronted head on was a surprise.

“He’s dangerous, you need to stay away from him.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Dick said. He didn’t know why he was defending Hood against Batman, but he’d never taken well to ultimatums. “Have you even tried talking to him? He’s a good person trying to help in his own way. Just because it isn’t your way doesn’t make it wrong.”

“He’s killing people,” Bruce insisted. Dick strangled a scream, he knew that thank you.

“We’re working on it!”

“He’s not a dog that needs to be housebroken, he’s a violent murderer.” Bruce was standing now, cowl down full force of his gaze on Dick.

“He’s a person with his own experiences. People change Bruce, Hood can too.”

“Hood has made his decisions. Don’t go near him again.” Bruce turned back to the computer, clearly thinking the conversation was over.

“The whole point of what we do is that people can be redeemed. What’s different about Red Hood that you think he can’t be,” Dick shouted. He wanted to throw his escrima at the stubborn ass. Batman only grunted in response. 

Dick took several steadying breaths and stormed into the shower room, nearly bowling Tim over. His little brother’s worried expression cooled his anger like a bucket of ice.

“Sorry Tim, you didn’t need to hear that,” he said, putting a hand on his little brother’s shoulder. Dick could feel the bones through the thin red sweatshirt Tim was wearing. For a moment the concerned look was replaced with a sullen one of a different teenager.

“You’re investigating the Red Hood?” Tim asked. Dick could hear the calculation behind Tim’s curiosity, but he didn’t have the energy to pry into that right now.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe.” Hood was an unknown and until Dick knew more he wasn’t letting his little brother anywhere near him. He squeezed Tim’s shoulder. “I want you to stay safe.”

Dick expected a quip about how Robin was never truly safe, instead Tim smiled up at him. “I know.” Then he walked out of the room, Dick’s hand falling from his shoulder as he passed. Dick rubbed a hand down his face, sighing. He hoped Tim listened for once.

Chapter Text

Dick was patrolling Bludhaven. The dark streets familiar as he flew through alleys and over buildings. There was a tap on his shoulder followed by familiar laughter.

“Tag you’re it!” Steph said, laughing as she swung past him. Her blonde hair streamed behind her as she seemed to float for a moment at the top of her arc. He reached out and just missed the yellow of her robin cape. With a laugh of his own, he gave chase.

He followed her, looping  around Wayne tower then down into the Bowery, Jason laughed as he executed a flip onto the top of Dick’s apartment building.

“What’s up Dickhead, am I too fast for you?” Jason asked, spinning to face Dick. Roof pebbles rattled as they scattered below his feet. He knew Jason was wearing a cocky smile but his face wouldn’t come into focus. Slowly the sound of a plane overwhelmed Jason’s laugh filling the air with apprehension.

“Jason come on, we need to leave now,” Dick said, reaching out for his little brother. But Jason just stared back silently, a stubborn look on his face. “Jason please.” He tried to step forward but he couldn’t move, his body felt like it was in molasses.

“Where were you?” Steph asked from next to Jason. Her cape was gone, her robin uniform torn.

“I called you,” Jason said, Dick could see Alfred’s meticulous stitches crisscrossing his uniform, his pale skin showing through frayed portions of the fire-damaged fabric. The plane was right above them, they needed to leave, but he couldn’t move and they were just standing there.

Then the world was green. The buildings around him crumbled into husks.

“You should have been there,” Steph said. Dick could hear the screams of his neighbors calling for help. The green crept around him till the buildings disappeared, and there was nothing but green and his dead siblings floating in front of him.

“It should have been you,” Jason said. Dick tried to move to reach them but he still couldn’t move, couldn’t save them. 

With a gasp, the world went black, and he could feel the oxygen in his lungs, his heart pounding in his chest. Slowly, other details filtered in. He was lying down, there was a pillow under his head, and he was in a bed. He was in his apartment in Bludhaven;something loosened in his chest, but then he opened his eyes and the world reoriented to fit his room in the manor, his parent’s poster looking over him. Something in his chest crumbled.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the tightness in his chest, tried to shake off the fear and sorrow clinging to his shoulders. He focused on counting his breathing, on the way his lungs inflated and deflated with each breath.

When he felt calmer, he slowly focused back on the world and all the emotions slammed right back into him. With another deep breath he gave up and went to brush his teeth.

Alfred was out when he went down to breakfast. He had left a note on the counter and some breakfast on a plate in the fridge. Bruce and Tim were out doing something or other since it was a weekday.

Dick couldn’t bring himself to go to the cave or the gym. Jason and Steph kept flitting in and out at the corners of his vision, the ghosts of their laughs echoing through the empty space of the manor. The whole manor seemed to be closing in on him, the walls shrinking in and the carpets rising up to strangle him with their memories. Steph sliding down the banister; Jason curled up in the library.

Eventually he wandered to the garage. He was holding the keys to the Audi, and he got in. He drove deliberately carefully, keeping his focus on the driving. He didn’t know where he was going until he found himself in Park Row.

His lips twitched as he parked the car at the thought of some kid jacking his tires and he had to swallow a lump. He found himself in a bar and paused when he didn’t know what to order. He didn’t know what he wanted, but Bruce always drank a scotch when he was sad so Dick figured that was a good place to start.

-*-

On his way to the convenience store, Jason stopped to stare at a group of teens systematically dismantling a car. It was propped up on some cinder blocks, the tires long gone. The only identifying mark left was the silver circles of the Audi symbol on the front grille. He grinned at old memories.

“Yo, back off,” one of the teens said when Jason had been staring too long. “This is ours.” He was the oldest of the group, looking around fourteen or fifteen. His black hair was sticking up and Jason noticed a grease smear on his cheek when the kid stood up and took a few steps toward him.

Jason raised his hands placatingly. “I’m not interested in stealing your score, just curious why you’re doing this on the street. Aren’t you worried about the owner?” The kid’s shoulder’s relaxed slightly.

“Nah, idiot’s drunk off his ass in Henry’s. He’s been there since like 2pm.” The kid said, gesturing to the run down bar a few buildings down.

“And the reason it’s still on the street?” Jason raised an eyebrow surveying the level of damage. They weren’t just field stripping the car. They were breaking it down piece by piece, the kind of work typically done in a full chop shop. Someone had even set up some power tools with a car battery. Possibly using the battery from the Audi itself.

“The security on the wheel is mad good, couldn’t get it to move,” the kid said shrugging, much more relaxed now he seemed sure Jason wasn’t a threat.

“Looks like you’ve made some good progress anyway.”

“Whatever man, just don’t go thinking you’re getting a piece.”

“Nah, it’s all yours,” Jason said with a laugh. The kid turned back to the car warily, keeping one eye on Jason.

“Yo, gimme a hand.” A girl said, focused on the remains of the back door. The kid went over and started trying to pry what appeared to be custom speakers out of the door. Jason smiled and started heading back down the street to Henry’s.

The bar was lit up in neon signs and lighted posters for various alcohol brands, but didn’t display a name, everyone just called it Henry’s. Henry had owned it and been doing most of the bartending since Jason first lived here. It had been one of Willis’ favorite watering holes, and Jason had spent a good bit of his childhood there.

He glanced between the bar and the car and figured he might as well make sure the guy stayed occupied until the kids finished up. Jason didn’t get two steps into the bar before he realized exactly who the car belonged to. There were four people in the bar. Two customers and the bartender were clustered at the close end of the bar. At the far end, in the seat with the best vantage point of the room and all entry points was Dick Grayson. He was staring into his half full glass tumblr. He didn’t even look up when Jason walked in.

Jason winced at the bottle of scotch set next to Dick on the bar counter, inches from his hand. Even with so few people at the bar, it was telling that Henry had left the bottle.

 Jason waved to Henry where he was chatting with a thin woman closest to the door and walked over to join them. 

“What can I get for you?” Henry asked.

“Just a coke,” Jason said. Henry raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“You want anything with that coke?”

“Just coke please. But I’d love to know what’s up with him.” Jason gestured toward Dick as the man threw back his drink, wobbling slightly on the bar stool.

“What about him,” Henry said, it wasn’t a question. His body language shifted to something defensive. “Customer’s business’ is their own. You got a question, you ask him.”

Jason grimaced, he didn’t exactly want to talk to Dick in civilian clothes. There was too high a chance he would recognize him at least enough to go digging. He had come here to make sure the kids didn’t get themselves killed jacking the car. Dick would probably just laugh when he saw what they’d done. It wasn’t like he couldn’t buy another car. Jason had accomplished his goal. He didn’t know why he was walking down the bar toward his older brother instead.

“Take any fighting outside,” Henry said warningly. Jason gave a lazy wave, Henry kept multiple sawed offs under the bar loaded with rock salt and had never hesitated in using one.

Dick still hadn’t looked over at him. He picked up the Scotch bottle like it weighed four times what it did and tilted it toward his glass, the neck several inches to the right of the glass itself. It was the most uncoordinated Jason had ever seen the bird.

He managed to grab Dick’s wrist just in time to stop him from pouring the alcohol all over the bar. Dick did look over at him then. When Jason tried to remove the bottle with his other hand Dick proved his strength hadn’t been lost with his coordination, the bottle didn’t budge. His older brother glared at him, eyes sliding in and out of focus.

“I think you’ve had enough,” Jason said.

“Shut up. You can’t stop me, you’re not my dad,” Dick said glaring and trying harder to tug the bottle out of Jason’s grasp.

“Then let me pour at least,” Jason offered. “Or do you want me to call your dad and have him tell you to stop. Because this isn’t the kind of behavior Bruce would condone.” He had learned young that getting between a drunk and his alcohol never ended well.

“Bruce isn’t my dad, so unless you got a line to the dead you won’t be able to ask much of anything.” Dick said but his voice lost some of its heat, and he let go of the bottle and pushed his glass toward Jason.

Jason took the offering for what it was and slowly poured two fingers into the tumblr under Dick’s wavering gaze. Henry walked over, eyeing the two of them, but mostly Jason.

“Your Coke,” he said, pushing it across the bar.

“Thanks,” Jason said. “Can I get some water too please?” He flicked his eyes over to Dick. Henry examined him for another second glancing at the Scotch Jason had just poured but had yet to hand back to Dick. He nodded once and turned away, walking back over to the other side of the bar.

“You look like my brother,” Dick said. He was staring at Jason and had made no move to take back the alcohol.

“Oh,” Jason managed, even to his ears it sounded strangled. Henry silently pushed a pitcher of water and a pre-filled glass over to Jason. Jason pretended to ignore the fact that both Henry and the two other bar patrons were now watching the two of them.

“He’s dead,” Dick said, turning to look down at his hands. Jason kept his hand on the tumblr of Scotch and pushed the water glass over. His brother reached out and drank some, it seemed to take all his focus not to spill it everywhere. While Dick was distracted Jason carefully shifted the scotch to his other side, and pulled his own coke into the vacated space.

Dick stared down at the bar periodically sipping the water. Jason took the time to look him over. Without the mask he could see the deep bags under Dick’s eyes, and the way his clothes hung off his frame. His brother had always been so bright and put together, Jason wondered what changed. He wanted to reach out and fix whatever it was, to put the gleam back in his big brother’s eyes.

“He died and I wasn’t there to save him, and Bruce had the funeral without me.” Dick said. He wasn’t crying but he sounded close and Jason got impossibly more uncomfortable.

“I used to listen to the phone messages he left, but it’s been so long and they were deleted off the server.”

With a sense of horror Jason decided this was officially beyond his paygrade. Time to get Dick home, let Bruce or Alfred deal with this. He ignored the voice in the back of his head saying that they had clearly already failed that task based on Dick’s current state.

“C’mon Big Bird, let’s get you back to the manor,” Jason said, shifting to stand up.

“No, please,” Dick begged. Jason had never heard his brother sound this desperate before. But he slipped his arm under Dick’s arms despite his protests and tried to tug him up. Dick turned to dead weight still looking up at Jason. “Please Jason, I can’t.”

Jason flinched and paused his tugging in surprise at the warmth of his brother calling him by name. He opened his mouth to refute the label and froze, if letting his brother think he was alive would help get him home Jason would deal. “Okay. But I’m not leaving you here so you have to go somewhere.”

“The penthouse?” Dick said, looking up at him. Jason ignored the oddness of the angle even as it added to the churning feeling of wrong in his gut. Dick had always been bigger, and better, Jason shouldn’t be able to look down at him.

“Somewhere with people in it who can keep an eye on you.” Jason did not want to contemplate leaving his brother alone right now. “Is there a coworker you can call?” He suggested thinking of the Titans. Dick flinched and looked down.

“Don’t have any, Bludhaven blew up,” he said softly. Jason barely caught the muttered “my fault.” that followed.

“No. Dick that wasn’t your fault.” Jason didn’t know what had happened to Bludhave but it definitely wasn’t Dick’s fault.

“What do you know!” Dick turned to shove at him and nearly pushed himself backward off the chair when Jason didn’t move. He would have if Jason hadn’t already been holding on to him.

Dick wobbled on the chair as Jason loosened his grip, threatening to topple off. Dick was now staring into the distance again, lost in whatever blame game he was playing with himself. With a sigh Jason made a decision he knew he would regret.

“You know what, if you don’t have somewhere you want me to take you then you’re going back to mine till you sober up.” He got no response from Dick.

Jason threw a couple hundreds on the bar to cover their drinks and started tugging his brother outside.

It wasn’t till they were a few yards from his car that Dick paused, looking at the remnants of the Audi. The kids were still working at it. “Who’s car’s that?” Dick slurred, coming back to the present slightly.

“I dunno,” Jason said, trying to tug Dick down the street, the last thing he needed was a good samaritan recognizing Dick. Unfortunately Dick chose that moment to recover enough coordination to plant his feet. He narrowed his eyes at the license plate discarded on the street next to the kid Jason had been talking to earlier. The kid looked over and eyed the two of them warily, Jason swore it was the kid’s default state.

“That’s B’s car,” Dick said unhelpfully, looking up at Jason. All the kids tensed, suddenly alert.

“Yep.” Jason said, taking a moment to admire how much farther the kids had gotten. Several speakers were sitting next to the license plate piled with various other parts of the sound system.

“He can’t know about this,” Dick whispered looking back at the kids clearly getting ready to flee. “That’s too many kids to adopt,” he continued in horror. Jason froze, then started laughing.

“Oh my God Dickie,” he wheezed. “How long do you think it would take him to chase them all down and drag them to the manor?”

“Imagine the look on Alfie’s face when he brought them home,” Dick said, then suddenly he was laughing. “The lawyers would have to work so much overtime.”

Jason stopped laughing to look at his brother, now almost completely dead weight under the force of his laughter. It was the first real smile he’d seen Dick make since coming back. He paused to savor the image, then with a mental shake he focused back on the task at hand.

“Alright, well we better let them finish, eventually B will come looking for you.” Jason tugged the still laughing Dick down the street. Distantly Jason heard a whispered what the fuck .

Chapter Text

Dick stares at Jason from the couch he’d been dumped on when they entered the apartment. And it was Jason, older and broader and with a white stripe through his bangs, but still his little brother. He hadn’t been sure until the car, he hadn’t realized he’d forgotten his brother's laugh until he heard it from the man now puttering around in the kitchen.

He could hear a logical part of him screaming Jason was dead, that he'd read his brother’s autopsy, but that part was distant and quiet. Right now he was floating, all the overwhelming emotions had faded into the background. He never wanted to leave.

“Hey, Dickie,” Jason said, crouched in front of where Dick was sprawled out on the couch “you need to drink something.” He pushed a cup toward Dick, a little blue straw sticking out. It was Nightwing blue. He felt a pang of emotion that his brother had gone to the effort to pick his color.

Apparently he stared at the straw too long, because the next thing he knew Jason was shoving it toward his mouth with a sigh. Dick put his hand out and leaned back. He missed the glass completely, his hand landed on Jason’s face instead and he pushed his brother backwards. Before he could fall over Jason batted Dick’s hand out of his face.

“What the fuck Dickhead,” Jason said. “It’s just fucking water, I promise.”

“It’s Nightwing blue,” Dick smiled at his brother. Jason looked surprised for a second before looking down at the straw brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it is. Just for you. Now will you drink the fucking water?”

Dick smiled back up at him and reached out to take the water glass. Jason helped guide it to his mouth and he took a long pull through the straw. The water tasted bland after the burn of the scotch he’d been drinking before. Jason was still watching him, face lined with concern.

“You'll be such a good big brother,” Dick said. “You and Timmy will get along so well and he needs someone who will look after him.”

Jason’s expression spasmed and he stood up and walked back to the kitchen.

“Robin isn’t my brother.”

“Yes he is.” Dick tried to sit up but the world spun wildly and he lowered himself back down. “Our little brother. B might not have adopted him yet but he’s family even if he needs to be reminded sometimes.” Dick frowned thinking of the way Tim was always so hesitant to accept invitations to dinner and stay over at the manor. The sound in the kitchen got louder and reminded him that Jason was here now. “You can help with that now!”

When Jason doesn’t respond Dick continues, “You were his hero you know. He used to take pictures of us. He snuck out and ran around the city taking photos, they’re really good. You should ask him to show you. That’s how he found out who we were, saw me do a quadruple somersault and connected the dots at nine years old. Our little genius.” Dick remembered the stubborn kid who knocked on his door all those years ago.

“He never listens to us, but I bet you can out-stubborn him. I’m so worried he’s going to push himself too hard and end up like you and Steph.” Dick remembered her blank face and still form in the hospital bed. She had never been still for a moment in life. He can feel tears sliding sideways down his face creating a damp spot on the couch under his cheek.

“Who’s Steph?” Jason asks. His voice sounds rough but Dick can't see his face to work out why.

Dick has a sudden vision of both Jason and Steph as Robin laughing as they dance across rooftops together. The vision dissipates in a cloud of Chemo green and his breath hitches at the loss carving a hole in his chest.

“You would have gotten along so well. You had the same sense of humor, the same idea of justice.” Looking at Steph had always felt like looking at an afterimage of Jason. They had the same brazen spirit and hit had killed them.

“That doesn’t really answer the question Dickhead,” Jason says, yanking Dick back into the present.

“She was Robin. Did you not notice the difference? But she went back to being Spoiler after a fight with Bruce and she died. Black Mask killed her and then Leslie left. And now there’s no doctors who can help, and what if something happens. I can’t lose another sibling Jason, I can’t.” Dick’s throat was clogged and he struggled to get the words out. He hadn’t told anyone these worries, but he felt safe, Jason was here and the voice of logic screaming to never tell anyone was just a tiny irritant deep below everything else.

Suddenly Jason was in front of him again, pushing the blue straw toward his lips again.

“Drink. You’ve dehydrated enough already, don’t add more to it by crying.” Jason’s voice was rough and scratchy.

“I really need you.” Dick said once he had drunk a little more water. “Bruce is constantly brooding. He’s obsessed with this new crime lord Red Hood and he won’t listen to me that the guy isn’t just another rogue, that he can be helped. And Timmy needs more attention than I can give. I’m not enough.”

“Bruce isn’t your responsibility,” Jason said. “He’s an adult last time I checked. And Robin is his responsibility.”

“I failed you, and I failed Steph, and I let Bludhaven be destroyed,” Dick choked on the admission. He hadn’t spoken to anyone about Bludhaven, about the knowledge that Deathstroke had been the one to drop the bomb.

“How the fuck did you let Bludhaven blow up?” Jason growled. “Dick opened his mouth to respond and Jason bowled over him. “Actually, I don’t want to know. You’re wrong. None of this is your fault. You were in fucking space when I died.”

“But you called,” Dick said.

“Nope. I don’t have the energy for this. None of it was your fault. Yeah, I called, and I was dead before you even got the message because, again, you were in space.” Jason sounded increasingly angry as he continued his rant. “I have never blamed you Dick. I don’t blame you for my fight with B, I don’t blame you for not answering the phone, and I don’t blame you for not saving me.”

By the time Jason was done ranting Dick was struggling to heave in air through his constricted throat. He didn’t know what he was feeling anymore, but it was all too much.

He reached his hand out to his brother, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him closer. Jason went. He folded Dick into a hug, setting the water on the floor and scooting closer to the couch to wrap his arms around Dick even more. Dick sobbed into his brother’s shoulder, heaving against the emotions overwhelming him.

_*_

Jason sat awkwardly on the floor of his apartment holding his older brother as he cried silently. Slowly the heaving sobs lessened and shifted into soft snoring. Jason sighed.

“I made you an omelet and you fall asleep on me, typical. See if I make you breakfast,” Jason said knowing full well he was making waffles in the morning. He’d already set aside the ingredients.

He settled Dick back on the couch in recovery position, grabbed a couple of blankets to wrap around him, and set a bucket next to Dick’s head on the floor for when he inevitably threw up. Then he walked back into the kitchen to clean up.

Turning the sink on and grabbing a dish, Jason mulled over everything Dick had said. He was so worried about Robin being just a kid and ending up dead like Jason. And wasn’t that what Jason was going to do, hurt Robin like he had been hurt. Bruce needed to learn, Robin should have ended with him, but it hadn’t and he’d gotten another kid killed. Robin was still flying and both of their murderers were still running free. Black Mask hadn’t even been arrested as far as Jason knew.

Bruce needed to learn. Jason envisioned Robin beaten and bloody on the ground as he had countless times before, but the kid's face morphed into his own and the begging was drowned out with cackling, “A or B?". Laughter echoed through his brain. Bruce needed to learn but Tim was just a kid.

Suddenly the realization of what he’d wanted to do hit and he felt bile rise in his throat. He rushed to the bathroom and barely made it in time to empty the contents of stomach into the toilet. Fuck, he was going to hurt a kid because he was mad at and adult. How was he any different from the Joker or Black Mask.

And then there was the other Robin, Spoiler, Steph. He needed to look into what had happened there. How had Bruce let Tim fly after another kid had died. How could he think himself better than Black Mask, how could he be changing anything for the better when he was planning to torture a kid.

Once he had stopped dry heaving Jason curled up in a ball on the floor in the bathroom. When had he become a monster? He reached out for his phone, there was only one person who had never lied to him, who had always told the truth even when he didn’t want to hear it. He pulled his phone from his pocket and typed a number in from memory, hands shaking.

“Jason?” Talia’s voice was all business.

“Talia,” Jason said, pausing when he didn’t know how to continue.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice demanded an answer, but Jason could hear the worry laced through every syllable.

“I was going to torture a kid Talia, what happened to me? I’m a monster.” Jason’s voice broke on the last word and he started sobbing softly.

“Oh, habibi, you’re not a monster.” Talia’s voice had lost all trace of business and faded into a cool calm.

“I wanted to do the same thing to Robin that the Joker did to me and he’s just a kid. Tim’s just a kid who likes photography and pushes himself too hard and I was gonna torture him to make a point.”

“But you didn’t,” Talia said with the specific brand of gentle firmness that always got Jason to listen. “You realized it was wrong and you didn’t. That’s what makes you different.”

“But I wanted to,” Jason insisted.

“Wanting to do something is not the same thing. What matters is what actions you take.” Instinctively he wanted to argue but forced himself to stop and think over what she was saying. He had learned long ago to listen to Talia when her voice had that hidden steel behind it.

On the surface her logic made sense even if he wasn’t able to believe her words applied to him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to believe her tonight but the logic helped him take a few deep breaths and separate from the guilt and horror. He was consumed for a moment by a wave of thankfulness and love. Talia always knew what to say to pick apart the tangled mess that was his head. 

“Thank you,” he managed to say between still hitching breaths.

“Always, habibi. Do you need anything else.”

“No, I’m good,” Jason knew whatever he asked for she would provide, but this time all he had needed was her calm voice of reason. “Unless Damian is there?”

“He’s in practice at the moment, but I will tell him you called.”

“Okay, tell him I miss him.” He couldn’t stop the little dip of disappointment he felt at not getting to hear his little brother’s excited babbling.

“Of course,” Talia said. Jason could hear the smile in her voice as he hung up the phone.

Jason took a few minutes to get his breathing back under control. Then, with a sigh, heaved himself off the hard tile floor of the bathroom and made his way back out to the kitchen. Dick was still passed out on the couch and snoring loudly. Jason left him there and went to finish the dishes.

By the time the dishes were done it was approaching the start of work. Normally Jason would meet with his men in person but he wasn’t leaving Dick here unattended, so he sent out a quick text that he would be available for calls but he wouldn’t be out tonight. As the acknowledgements came in, he settled at his computer, he had research to do on another dead bird.

_*_

The smell of something delicious and sweet woke Dick up. He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar apartment. Shifting he realized he was on a couch. When he tried to push himself up nausea rose and he leaned over the couch to throw up right into a perfectly placed bucket.

“You finally up Dickface?” a deep voice called. Dick’s brain wanted to identify it as Jason but Jason was dead. Dick opened his mouth to ask where he was and instead just ended up throwing up again.

The next time he stopped he laid back down and just tried to breathe through the nausea and pounding headache. His eyes caught on a pair of boots haphazardly dumped by the door. They were black combat boots, the kind with a steel toe, only they didn’t look like standard military surplus. They looked well worn, a few scratches on the toe and a long mark up the side of the left one.

The floor was scratched and there was a suspicious splatter stain just to the left of the boots. Above them, hung on the wall, was a brown leather jacket. The more Dick looked at it the more familiar it became. He had spent hours watching footage of the Red Hood, even hungover he could recognize that jacket. He was in the Red Hood’s apartment.

Frantically he tried to remember what had happened yesterday. He remembered the nightmare and leaving the manor. He knew he had wound up drinking at the seediest looking bar he could find in Crime Alley. Vaguely he remembered someone helping him walk down the street, and that he’d trusted them. But it was all foggy after that.

His hands weren’t bound and he realized belatedly he’d been laid on his side so he wouldn’t be able to choke in his sleep. There were blankets settled over him and tucked between his back and the couch. It was almost like he had been tucked in.

A pair of loose fitting sweatpants appeared in front of him, ending in bare feet. A cup of water with a blue straw was lowered into his field of vision, held by a scarred hand. Trying to look up made his stomach swirl and he gave up. Instead Dick stared at the water, trying to work out if it was worth the risk to drink it. Did Red Hood know he was Nightwing? Did he know Dick had figured him out?

“Come on, you need liquid,” The man coaxed in that familiar cadence. “Is it the straw again?”

Dick felt his face scrunch in confusion as he focused on the straw. There didn’t seem to be anything objectionable to him. Before he could voice his confusion something in the kitchen started beeping. The man sighed and left Dick’s field of vision, muttering something about stubborn birds and Dick barely managed to keep himself from tensing up at the words. He couldn’t give anything away until he knew what was going on.

There was some banging in the kitchen, but even listening for it Dick realized he couldn’t hear the man’s footsteps. More evidence this man was the Red Hood.

He was startled when the man reappeared, this time holding a bottle of Pedialyte.

“Sorry, I’m out of water bottles, but here. You can check for tampering. Pain meds don’t really work on me so I don’t have anything for whatever nasty headache I’m sure you have. Breakfast should be ready soon. You still like chocolate chips on your waffles?

This time Dick failed to control his flinch. That was incredibly personal information for someone outside of family to know, let alone a new rogue. He pushed through the nausea and looked up. His brother stared down at him.

He was older, his jaw squarer and his shoulders filled out. But Dick could see a little baby fat still clinging on. A shock of white hair fell into his face, Dick recognized the scowl, but even more familiar was the little furrow between his brows that meant Jason was concerned and didn’t want to show it.

“Jason,” Dick breathed. His brother’s expression shuttered. He put the Pedialyte on the floor in front of the couch next to the bucket and walked away.

“Drink the damn Pedialyte.”

Dick lay there stunned. He had read Jason’s autopsy. Nobody could have survived that, let alone the autopsy itself. He desperately wanted this man to be his little brother. A voice that sounded suspiciously like Burce shut that train of thought down with vicious logic. People didn't come back from the dead. Suddenly anger swamped him. Who was this man to pretend to be his family, Jason was dead. He wasn’t Superman or Green Arrow. Dick knew that.

With a surge of adrenaline Dick heaved himself up to sitting, turning to look at the man in the kitchen. His stomach roiled and his head spiked with pain. Dick found himself toppling off the couch on the floor puking into the bucket again. The bottle of Pedialyte rolled away when Dick knocked into it with his hand. 

“Fuck,” the man in the kitchen swore. “Goddman it, can’t leave you alone for five minutes.” Then he was next to Dick, strong arms lifting him back onto the couch.

Dick struggled, pushing against the man’s broad chest fighting the sensation of the world spinning and the stabbing pain as he ended looking directly into the ceiling light.

“Who are you,” Dick demanded as he was manhandled. “How dare you take his face.”

“Fuck Dickie,” The man swore again, the nickname only making the anger flare impossibly higher. They continued to struggle, Dick’s hungover body refusing to cooperate properly.

“When I turned thirteen you came back to the manor for my birthday. You were a complete ass about it, but you got me a notebook.” Dick stopped fighting as the story continued. “You wrote an inscription in it. ‘Our doubts are traitors  and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt’. I’ve never showed that to anyone. Only Alfie probably knows what it said. Though God knows what Bruce did with it since.”

Dick remembered that notebook. Alfred had all but demanded Dick show up and bring some kind of gift. Dick had still been so angry about Robin and jealous of Jason’s adoption. He’d been a mess and had barely exchanged two sentences with the kid. The day had ended in a screaming match with Bruce and him returning to Blud. He hadn’t remembered the inscription. It had been something he’d found online when Alfred said the kid liked classics, something Shakespeare he remembers. He had never known that it meant anything to Jason.

Dick shifted, braving the spiking pain of the light to look up at the man holding him. His face was so earnest and Dick could see all the little signs of anxiety underneath everything.  Copying faces was relatively easy, but to replicate the exact expressions and body language was incredibly difficult. Especially when the person had been dead for five years. And he had called Alfred ‘Alfie’ something only Jason had ever done.

Dick reached up to lay a hand on his brother’s face. Jason’s expression softened looking back down at him. Then dick was throwing his arms around his little brother without conscious thought on his part.

“Little Wing,” Dick said, voice cracking halfway through. He buried his face in his brother’s shoulder blocking out the harsh light.

“Yeah Dick, it’s me,” Jason said as he shifted Dick fully on the couch like he weighed nothing. And that was such a change. His little brother had grown up and Dick hadn’t been there.

Once he was settled back on the couch, this time sitting up, and Jason had finished fussing with the blankets arranging them on Dick’s lap, he shoved the Pedialyte bottle back into Dick’s hand.

“Drink”, he said as he walked back into the kitchen. “You’re not getting any waffles until you finish that.”

“What?” Dick said. “Can’t I have the water back?” Pedialyte was disgusting.

“Nope. Jason said and Dick could hear the vicious glee in his voice. “You had your chance and you lost it.” Dick wondered when his little brother had gotten so bossy.

“You’d be so good with Tim,” Dick said without thinking.

“So you said,” Jason said, voice oddly flat.

“I did?” Dick asked as Jason came and sat next to him on the couch with a plate of waffles.

“You got all emotional while drunk,” Jason said. “Now drink the damn Pedialyte or so help me I will eat all the waffles and you won’t get a single one.” With that Jason focused on his own plate of waffles and took a large bite.

Dick’s stomach was still roiling, though it was better than earlier. Cracking the lid open, he took a deep drink, and almost spit it right back out. The stuff was somehow more disgusting than he remembered. But he saw Jason’s point about drinking it. He hadn’t eaten anything since before his last patrol. But damn those waffles were starting to smell better and better as his stomach settled.

Chapter Text

Jason had deemed it safe to serve Dick some waffles once he had finished the Pedialyte and was pleased to see Dick actually eating them.

He had expected a lot more skepticism, but Dick had always been so different from Batman. He trusted his emotions and instincts when Batman needed everything laid out in cold hard facts and data before trusting anything.

Jason slowly ate his waffle periodically looking over at Dick. A part of him still didn’t believe Dick believed him and was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He noticed when Dick stopped eating and just stared at his plate.

“Stephanie loved waffles,” Dick said, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen over the apartment.

Stephanie Brown, Spoiler, The girl Robin. Jason had done his research last night. It wasn’t hard to connect “Spoiler” and “Steph” to Stephanie Brown, daughter of Cluemaster. Mother in and out of rehab for years but recently managed to hold down a job as a nurse at Gotham General following her husband’s arrest and seemed to have stepped up. None of that had told Jason about her breakfast food preferences.

“What was she like,” Jason asked, surprising himself.

Dick just stared despondent at the chocolate chips on his waffles instead of answering. Jason could practically see him spiraling. Dick had been angry back before, when Jason knew him. He covered it with sharp smiles with too many teeth, but he’d always fought against everything thrown against him. He’d never been this empty shell.

Jason didn’t know what to do with a Dick Grayson who wasn’t throwing quips and punches. The first Robin had always been a standard he constantly fell short of. Nightwing was a hero larger than life. Dick Grayson was smiles and anger sharpened into a knife. Jason wondered when that had changed or if maybe it was him who had changed. How long had Dick held the world on his shoulders and taken responsibility for events out of his control.

“It’s not your fault,” Jason said. Dick flinched and hunched over the plate more, still lost in whatever he was seeing in his plate of waffles. Jason knew he needed to break Dick out of his spiral but he had never been very good at comfort, at least not since he’d woken screaming in a pool of green.

Talia’s calm voice had coached him through countless panic attacks and emotional episodes. He tried to think about her calm logic and apply it to Dick’s situation. He didn’t know much about the specifics of Steph’s death, but he also knew that wasn’t the only thing bothering Dick.

“You can’t put everything on yourself,” Jason said. He tried to replicate the calm steel of Talia’s voice. He wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

When Dick only shrunk down smaller, collapsing into himself like a dying star, Jason decided to tackle the easiest problem first. 

“I said this last night, and I’ll  say it as many times as you need to believe me. I don’t blame you for any part of my death. You were in space,” Jason said. Dick opened his mouth as he turned to face Jason. “I don’t even blame Batman,” he continued. It was harder to keep his voice even and calm thinking about his once father. He focused on the present and his brother in front of him on the couch, the feeling of the plate of waffles in his hands. “What happened to me isn’t your fault. And I don’t know the details of Setphanie’s death but I doubt she would blame you either.”

Dick’s glare shifted into shock at Jason’s words, and then back into anger. Jason knew that anger was always easier than believing something was out of your control.

“And I’m sure you have some grand explanation for Bludhaven then,” Dick spat. “Slade’s little revenge plot-”

“Fuck Slade,” Jason interrupted before Dick could get going. His voice came out sharp and he wasn’t able to find that calm tone again as he continued “Slade is a grown ass adult, you aren’t responsible for his decisions anymore than Black Mask’s or the Joker’s, or, hell, the mugger down the street.”

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a few times and then he drew breath to argue back. Jason was done with listening to his brother blame himself. He reached over and grabbed a forkful of waffle and when Dick opened his mouth Jason shoved the loaded forkful in. Dick choked and sputtered, and Jason grinned, satisfied.

Dick took a long moment to chew, forced to stop and think about what Jason was saying. Jason took the moment to try and drive his point home

“It’s easy to be angry. Trust me I know,” Jason said, feeling odd sitting on this side of the conversation. He wondered if Talia had been this frustrated with him, scratch that he knew she still was. He resolved to try and listen better to her next time she told him he was being ridiculous. “Just make sure you’re angry at the right person, and in this situation that’s not yourself Dickie.”

By the time he’d finished chewing Dick’s face had shifted out of outright mutiny, though he still didn’t look particularly happy.

“You’re not going to let this go are you?” Dick said.

“No,” Jason said firmly.

Dick turned back to face forward and Jason saw his eyes catch on his jacket by the door and hold. Fuck, Jason hadn’t thought about the jacket being recognized. The helmet was hidden but he didn’t exactly have guests over. Most people wouldn’t  recognize the jacket on its own hanging like that, but Nightwing wasn’t most people. He watched multiple expressions flash across Nightwing's face too fast to catalog any of them. He wasn’t expecting it to settle on a teasing grin as his brother turned to look at him.

“So, Red Hood?”

It was so far from anything Jason had expected he was frozen for a moment. It felt much like the teasing Jason himself used with Damian and he felt red rising into his cheeks. For a moment he felt like nothing but a kid getting a ribbing from his older brother about something embarrassing. Then Dick’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Does B know?” He asked, and Jason felt everything come crashing down. It had been a delusion, playing house with Dick. There was no way he’d be okay with Jason as Red Hood. Jason had had enough encounters with Nightwing on rooftops to know the man disagreed strongly with Red Hood. Distantly Jason heard the words Dick had said last night about the Red Hood “he can be helped” but Jason doubted Dick meant anything more than Arkham.

“Yeah,” Jason managed to croak out of a dry throat.

“That you’re Red Hood or that you’re alive?” Dick pressed.

“Both,” Jason said, he felt the world drifting farther and farther away. He had no idea what his face was doing but it made Dick pause.

“Jason I’m not mad that you’re Red Hood,” Dick said then paused. “I mean I am,” Jason felt himself flinch, he knew what came next, the scar on his neck ached in memory. “I’m mad you didn’t tell me. I just want to know why you didn’t come home.”

Dick shifted to set his waffles on the side table, then reached out to take Jason’s plate. He tugged a bit before Jason was able to loosen his death grip and allow his brother to set it next to his with his.

“Jason,” Dick said softly looking into Jason’s eyes, “why didn’t you ever come home?”

“Because the clown is still alive,” Jason heard his voice say from far away. “Because Bruce didn’t care enough to avenge me.”

“Batman doesn’t kill.”

Jason clenched his fists, a part of him wanted to scream that he did, that he’d tried to kill Jason, but he wasn’t able to form the words, a distant shame washing the anger away as fast as it had come.

“I asked,” Jason said after a long moment of silence.

“What?”

“I gave him the choice between me and the Joker and chose the Joker.” Only the floaty fuzz in his head kept him from running his fingers across the ragged scar that ran along the left side of his neck.

“Right. Okay,” Dick said. Jason expected him to launch into a defense of why Batman couldn’t kill. Instead he grabbed Jason’s hand standing up and tugging him to the kitchen where he let go and started opening and closing cabinets seemingly at random. Finally Dick rounded back on him and Jason found himself flinching back from his brother’s frustration again. 

“Hot chocolate.”

“What?” Jason said, confusion filtering through the cotton in his head

“Hot chocolate,” Dick repeated, more gently this time.. “Where do you keep your supplies?” he pushed when Jason continued to just stare at him.

It took a moment for the words to process and then Jason was moving through the kitchen, pulling out the supplies for hot chocolate on autopilot. The proper kind Alfred had used to make him, the only kind he ever drank now.

As Jason went through the motions of heating the milk and melting the chocolate, a comfortable quiet fell over the kitchen. Slowly the world started filtering back in as Jason gently stirred. The smell was comforting and the rising heat off the milk was grounding.

By the time Jason and Dick had settled back on the couch each with their own mug, Jason felt more settled in his body. He still kept both hands wrapped around the warm mug, focussing on the sensation to stay grounded.

He didn’t know what Dick’s plan was here and his brain kept skittering away every time his thoughts strayed in that direction so he focused on the present. Calling on old coaching from Talia he focused on what Dick was actually doing, not what he might do. Which, honestly, it looked like he was doing calming breathing exercises.

_*_

Dick clutched his mug like a lifeline staring into the slowly rising steam. When Jason had first started getting that unfocused look in his eyes and distant tone of voice Dick knew something was off. He’d latched on to the hot chocolate in a desperate grasp at what would Alfred do. Looking at Jason now it seemed to have helped. His hands were clenching and unclenching around his mug and he had yet to say anything, but his eyes were at least clearly focusing.

Dick had spent the time Jason made the hot chocolate thinking over everything as the comforting smell of hot chocolate wafted up and slowly permeated the apartment.

“I’m not mad that you’re Red Hood,” Dick starts. Jason turns to stare at him incredulous.

“You sure seemed to care last week.”

“I don’t like that you kill people, but Red Hood has done a lot of good for the neighborhood,” Dick says, relieved Jason is present enough to argue.

“So you’re fine if I keep just going around killing people,” Jason said, frowning.

“No,” Dick said, ignoring Jason’s flinch to push on. “People deserve justice but you are doing good too.” Dick had done his research, beyond the drugs and weapons were harm reduction programs, affordable housing, and soup kitchens.

“And what about the victims? You put these people away and then forget about them and when they get out they come back worse.”

Dick thought of Joker, the way his heart stuttered every time he heard a new escape was announced. He thought of the way Jason had looked when he said the joker was still alive. He gripped his mug tighter and took a sip, focusing on the familiar flavor. It tasted like post-patrol evenings in the manor.

“People are capable of change and they deserve that chance.”

“At what cost?” Jason asked, and abruptly Dick was done with the conversation. He had just gotten his brother back and he wasn’t losing him over a debate as old as crime itself.

“We can debate ethics all day Jason, I’m not going to agree with you, and as Nightwing I’m going to stop you from killing. But as your brother I’m just glad you’re alive.” The room fell into silence as Jason stared at him.

Dick desperately wanted to know where his brother had been and what had happened with Bruce, but he had already pushed too far once today. He surveyed the apartment trying to find indications of who his brother was now but there was very little beyond storage Dick assumed was for weaponry and a decent computer set-up in the corner. The only part of the apartment that looked lived in was the kitchen. Jason had always enjoyed helping out Alfred in the kitchen and the waffles had been pretty good, even though they hadn’t finished.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” Dick asked tentatively. Jason blinked at him a few times before replying.

The conversation was halting at first but got smoother as the afternoon wore on. When Jason told him what had happened to the Audi Dick couldn’t stop laughing for nearly five minutes.

Eventually patrol rolled around and Jason gave him a lift to a nearby safehouse. He changed into his Nightwing suit in a daze still thinking over the events of the day. He was still distracted once patrol started and he blamed that for how easily he was caught.

He went to stop a standard mugging and the would-be victim stabbed him with a syringe the moment he put his back to her. He put a few of his kidnappers down before the drug kicked in but it wasn’t enough. He distantly registered being shoved into the back of a van multiple guns pointed at him before he fell under all the way.

_*_

Jason was meeting some of his lieutenants at the main warehouse when one of the front door guards came running in.

“Sir,” Nik said frantically, his eyes wide. His gun was holstered and Jason hadn’t heard any other shots which ruled out an attack. “It’s Chris, Black Mask returned his body. There’s a message.”

“How did they deliver the body?” Jason asked as he immediately started making his way to the front entrance.

“A drive by, sir. They pushed him out of the back of a van and sped off. Tom was carrying him in when I left to get you.”

Jason could see them now in the entryway, Tom kneeling over the body. He stood as Jason approached, his lined faced creased with grief.

“He is dead. At least a day,” Tom confirmed in his familiar heavy accent. Tom had been a nurse before moving to the US, but without the proper license had been unable to work. 

“The knife came after,” Tom gestured to the knife sticking out of Chris’ chest securing a piece of paper. The lack of blood around the wound made the post mortem analysis clear. But Jason noticed other wounds peaking out from below the clothes.

“They re-dressed him as well,” Jason said. He heard Nik’s breach hitch behind him. Nik was so young just 23, he’d been a runner close to Chris and they’d joined Jason’s gang together. Jason wondered when he started thinking of people older than him as kids.

“Black Mask will pay for this,” Jason said, the steel in his voice translating even through his helmet modulator. Then he crouched down and read the note.

It was a simple time and address followed by “Alone or your boyfriend’s next” with a crude drawing in blue that was still unmistakably the Nightwing symbol. He felt the floor drop away from below him despite still crouching on solid concrete. He’d just seen Dick a few hours ago.

Jason’s eyes caught again on the knife. It was similar in design to a standard Ka-Bar, but it was smaller and the hilt was wrapped in paracord, black with a complicated pattern in a familiar blue. The knife was Nightwings, the one he kept in his right boot.

He felt a fresh wave of rage followed by a moment of panic. How had Sionis known their connection, did he know Jason’s face? Had he been following them? Then he remembered the warehouse that had jump-started their interactions. Jason had let Sionis’ men live in deference to Nightwing’s delicate sensibilities. He would not be making that mistake again.

“Boss,” Tom asked when Jason had been quiet too long. Jason took a deep breath closing his eyes to try and think through the sheer rage. He couldn’t let his emotions rule his decisions, they were a tool, the adrenaline made him faster and stronger, but they also made him sloppy and clouded his ability to consider all angles.

He stood, slowly boxing up all the anger for later when he had shootable targets. The meeting time was in little over an hour, not enough time to create and implement a plan. Jason knew the address was a warehouse near the docks. No one to hear the screams, and convenient for  body disposal. Jason reached out and tore the knife from Chris’ body ignoring the quiet gasp from Nik. He yanked the note off the knife, tearing it and crumpling it in his fist.

He needed to deal with this mess first, any kind of plan could come later. He started giving orders to tighten security and notify Chris’ family, ensuring funds were released for funeral and burial costs. He ignored the need to leave and save his brother even as it screamed and scrabbled against the soundproof glass barrier he had built in his mind.

A little under an hour later Jason was crouching on a roof looking down at the warehouse Black Mask had specified. He still had no plan and only a few minutes left.

He knew this was a trap, he just didn’t know what kind. Was Nightwing even there or somewhere else entirely. Was there a bomb, would he go out the same as last time? Jason focused on the smell of salt in the air to banish the feeling of smoke clogging his lungs.

He fingered Nightwing’s knife feeling the press of his own kris against his spine. He had survived worse, whatever Sionis had in store, Jason would survive. Tonight he was going to put a bullet between Sionis' eyes, power vacuum be damned.

Chapter Text

Tim frantically sped through Gotham using every bit of knowledge of the city to navigate his motorcycle to the docks as fast as possible. He knew where Nightwing was and he needed to get there before Jason walked into whatever trap Black Mask had set for Red Hood.

He had noticed Black Mask’s increased activity at a warehouse near the docks, but he hadn’t realized the purpose until he heard Black Mask was setting a trap for Red Hood with Nightwing as the bait.

Dick had gone missing the day before. He had shown an intense interest in the Red Hood over the last few weeks. When the trackers in the Audi Dick had left the manor in started dispersing throughout Crime Alley and the Narrows Bruce had grounded Robin and told Tim not to touch the case.

Why Bruce thought grounding would keep him out Tim had no idea. It had never once worked on any Robin. Tim had hacked Red Hood’s file the instant Batman had taken off. He hadn’t gotten results until tonight. The file had been packed with information, reports, videos and even a few DNA tests. Too much information to sort through in such a short time. But one bit was clear, Red Hood was Jason Todd returned from the grave.

Tim had suited up to track down the previous Robin himself when a local online forum had pinged with the rumor Black Mask was baiting Red Hood with Nightwing. All the pieces had fallen together in his head.

Batman was chasing down car parts in the wrong part of town, Tim needed to stop Jason from walking into a trap. He didn’t know how much time he had or if he was too late already, but he had to believe. Red Hood was Jason Todd, he was Tim’s Robin. Tim wasn’t going to let Black Mask hurt another Robin, either of them.

Reaching the docks, Tim abandoned his bike well past the hearing range of the warehouse and grappled to the top of the next building, swinging and jumping between buildings and shipping containers.

He beelined for the warehouse, landing softly on the roof and peaking through the conveniently located skylights. Someone had covered them with a reflective film at some point in the past, but a few were helpfully cracked open, and Tim was able to look through the gaps to judge the situation.

The warehouse was Gotham standard, two stories tall, the back completely open. Nightwing was strung up by his hands in the center of the warehouse by metal cuffs attached to a chain secured to a crane hook dangling from a rail system. Following the rails showed that it spanned across much of the warehouse ceiling.

Black Mask’s men were arranged around Nightwing all facing the back of the warehouse. The rogue himself  stood next to Nightwing holding what was clearly the controller for the crane. He was speaking but Tim couldn’t hear anything from where he was.

The hook was close enough to the rails Tim might be able to reach it from above. The chain Nightwing’s cuffs were connected to was thinner than the one holding the hook. If Tim could reach the lower chain he could cut it relatively quickly, but there were too many eyes. He had a hand held grinder with multiple attachments he was testing out and he was confident it could cut the chain. But short of Red Hood walking through the doors and starting a shootout, Tim couldn’t think of a distraction big enough and long enough to cut all the way through the chain. Then there would be the problem of getting Nightwing out of the building. He didn’t look in any shape to climb up the chain and navigate the rails.

Retreating from the window, Tim surveyed the area around for anything he could use. His eyes caught on a flash of red on a nearby roof. Speak of the devil. Maybe Tim’s initial plan might work anyway with a few tweaks. Tim leapt off the roof and grappled around to where the Red Hood was scoping out the warehouse from an adjacent roof.

Landing softly behind his predecessor, Tim waited a moment to be noticed.

“Jason,” he said hesitantly when the man didn’t acknowledge him.

Suddenly there was a gun pointed at him, the blank red mask of the Red Hood  far more intimidating on a dark roof than it had ever looked on the screens in the cave.

_*_

Jason was staring down at the warehouse timing the guard rotation and check-ins, preparing to slip in the back door between them.

“Jason,” came a soft voice behind him. Jason was spinning, and aiming his gun for a headshot, safety off, before he registered the voice was young. He found himself pointing a weapon at the new Robin’s startled face, finger resting on the trigger guard.

For a moment all he wanted to do was shift his finger and pull, teach Batman what happened when you put kids out on the street dressed like traffic lights. Then he remembered the way Dick had spoken of the kid earlier that day. Tim, his name was Tim and he was a kid. He was a genius with computers and an expert at weaseling out of homework in favor of investigations. Jason quickly reholstered his gun, flipping the safety back on.

“Fuck kid,” Jason said, taking deep breaths to slow his heart rate and get control of the emotions roiling through his intestines. “Dick said you were quiet, but seriously, scuff your foot or something next time. What are you doing here anyway?” Jason couldn’t help glancing around for Batman even though he knew the man would never let Robin get this close to him if he was present.

“I came to help you rescue Nightwing,” the kid said.

“Where’s Batman?”

“Looking for Audi parts in the Narrows I think?” He shrugged. “But that’s not the point. I have a plan.”

Jason stared at the tiny child in front of him dressed like a bright target. Then the fact that Tim had called him Jason finally registered.

“You know who I am?” Jason asked. Tim paused and gave a whole body eyeroll the way only a teenager could.

“I had to hack the file, but yeah. That’s not the point. I know how to get Nightwing out.” Too shocked to reply Jason stood there as the kid ran through what was admittedly a decent plan. Decent in that it kept Tim as far from any danger as possible at least.

“Fine,” Jason said when Tim was done. “But you stay on the rails and leave immediately once Nightwing is down, or if you are spotted at any point.”

“I can fight.” Tim objected.

“No,” Jason was firm. “Black Mask killed one Robin, I’m not handing him another on a silver platter. Be happy I’m not activating your emergency beacon and leaving you on this roof.”

“I’d like to see you try.” The kid reached for his folded bow staff.

“No. You wouldn’t,” Jason said, final, desperately trying not to think about his original plans for the Robin. Plans from before he’d realized Robin was just another kid in over his head and too young to realize it. “You stay on the crane rails and you leave immediately once Nightwing is down or if you’re spotted at any point.”

The kid stared him down for a moment before looking away.

“Fine,” he said with what was unmistakably a pout. How had Jason ever wanted to hurt him, he was a child.

“Great,” Jason said instead of dwelling on past mistakes. He had an older brother to rescue and a man to kill. “Now shoo.” He gave an accompanying motion with his hands. Tim shot him one last glare before grappling over to the warehouse roof. Jason had to hand it to him, the kid was sneaky, if he hadn’t known where to look he never would have spotted him. Nobody should be that hard to spot in such bright colors.

Once he was sure the kid was in position, Jason stood and jumped, landing in front of two goons as they walked their round.

“I’m here, as requested,” he said, spreading his arms wide, displaying his visible weapons, taking advantage of his build to look as large and intimidating as possible. He was gratified to watch their faces pale, both fumbling for their guns. The one on the left managed to drop his, but was unwilling to look down long enough to pick it up. If this was the quality Black Mask had brought tonight, this might be easier than expected. Jason might even make it out. “Well? Where is he?” Jason asked, cocking his head in a way he knew was particularly creepy with the helmet. It was particularly satisfying when the goon on the left visibly gulped.

“R-right” The one on the right said. She reached for her radio with the hand not holding her gun. Both hands were trembling and Jason would be worried about her lack of trigger discipline if the safety hadn’t still been on.

“The Red Hood is here,” she gasped out into her mic. There was some short boring back and forth, and then he was led the short distance to the door he had been eyeing from the roof.

It opened onto a wide space. There were several garage style loading doors to his left, and on the far wall were two doors, presumably leading to the office portion of the building. Nowhere immediately presented itself as a likely spot to hide ordinance. It was full of armed goons with guns pointed at him. A quick estimate landed their numbers around thirty. Most of the guns were a model from a delivery Roman had received several months ago. Jason allowed himself a small grin. Apparently his little embargo on Sionis’ imports was working.

Nightwing was strung up in the middle of the room and gagged with a rubber ball gag. He had a red mark on his right cheek. It looked like rings had caught from a backhand. No other injuries were visible, but with the dark suit it was hard to tell. He was clearly alert and tracking, toes planted firmly on the floor to alleviate the strain on his shoulders and wrists.

To the right and just behind Nightwing was a burly man standing in the deceptively casual way of a skilled fighter. By the position of his feet and posture combined with his haircut Jason was guessing ex-marine. He had a pistol in a shoulder and a knife on his thigh immediately visible. Significantly more concealed weapons were scattered across his body.

“Glad to see you could make it,” Black Mask sneered from Nightwing’s other side. Jason risked a glance up at the crane rails, briefly checking that Robin was out of sight, careful not to move his head. Satisfied Robin was at least following the plan for now he allowed himself to zero in on Black Mask.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t coming and I would get the bird all to myself. But now you’re here the party can truly start.” The bastard managed to convey an oily grin while somehow not having any skin around his black teeth. Jason was going to enjoy punching those out of his jaw. The image kept him from tensing and showing exactly how much Sionis had managed to get under his skin.

“You wanted me here, I’m here,” Jason said, deliberately calm and relaxed.

“You are, and now I want you to disarm,” Black Mask said. “And be sure to get everything, my friend here will be checking.” He gestured to the ex-marine. Jason grinned beneath his helmet. The man was the biggest threat and the most likely to notice Tim. Getting him away from Nightwing and focused on Jason was in their favor. Jason slowly reached for the guns in his shoulder holster.

“Tsk tsk” Black Mask tutted at him and Jason froze, eyes flicking over to the ex-marine. “Weapons stay in their holsters.” Narrowing his eyes Jason instead shrugged off his jacket.

You can put it on the floor in front of you,” Black Mask instructed. “And Hood, weapons includes the armor and helmet.”

Jason reminded himself that he was the distraction and this only helped him, but he had forgotten how much Roman loved to humiliate. He’d been more concerned about his sadistic tendencies being directed at his brother.

“You know you can pay people to do this for you without going to all this effort,” Jason said as he removed each gun holster individually and started on his visible knife holsters.

“I could, but there’s something so much more satisfying about this. It’s not as sweet if you don’t have to work for it.”

“You’re a piece of work, Roman,” Jason said, working his way up his body removing hidden weapons. He saw the flicker of movement above that indicated Robin had reached Nightwing.

“You don’t know the half of it. That’s alright though, I’ll enjoy teaching you.”

His fingers twitched where they were working on the catches of his chest armor but he refused to let Roman’s words get to him. It was a risk to take off his back armor with his kris under his shirt along his spine. He was banking on the goons behind him being too untrained to notice. The holster had been custom designed to be unoticable.

When the last of his armor had been set in a pile in front of him on his jacket and joined by his helmet, Jason raised his hands just above his shoulders and glared at Black Mask. He wasn’t able to check on Robin’s progress without looking up, he had to run on trust that Robin wanted Dick out of here as much as Jason did.

Black Mask flicked his wrist and the ex-marine started toward Jason. When he was within striking distance Jason flicked his eyes up to finally check on Robin. He disguised it as a defiant lift of his chin towards Roman, glad for the blank eyes of his domino even if he’d prefer his helmet.

Tim was laying down, balanced on the rail above Nightwing, detonator in one hand, the other holding the grinder against the mostly cut chain. Confident Dick’s escape and the distraction were good to go, Jason looked at the ex-marine and moved.

In one smooth motion Jason drew his kris and brought it across the man’s neck while he reached with his other hand and drew the pistol from its shoulder holster. Jason grinned through the blood as it drenched him and the body fell. He leveled the gun at Black Mask’s grotesque visage and pulled the trigger, closing his eyes as six flashbangs went off simultaneously. He dropped to the floor, crouching.

The warehouse erupted in gunfire, shouts of surprise quickly drowned out by ones of pain as Black Mask’s goons took each other out in friendly fire. It was absolute chaos. Mostly blind and partially deaf, Jason took two more shots at where Black Mask had been and then abandoned the gun for one of his own.

The biggest flaw in the plan was always that without his helmet Jason would have no way to protect himself from the flashbangs. Of course they had also assumed he’d be able to keep the armor to protect him from the inevitable gunfire.

Jason jammed his helmet on, gathered his jacket around his gear with his left hand and started making his way to where Nightwing was. With luck, the bird could make his own way out, but Jason wasn’t counting on it.

By the time he reached a collapsed Nightwing, Jason’s vision had mostly recovered. Robin was trying to drag the injured bird toward the front of the warehouse, keeping low.

“Leave, I’ve got this,” he told the kid. Robin’s mouth moved around a no that Jason couldn’t hear. He swore. So much for following the plan. The thugs were starting to recover and sort themselves out as they reached the door into to the building’s front. Nightwing had recovered enough to pull his legs in to make himself a smaller target.

His ears still ringing Jason, could at least see more than just blurred shapes as Tim reached up for the door handle. He surveyed the room. About twenty goons were on the floor in various levels of injury. Black Mask was on his back still in the middle of the room, but Jason saw a hand move as he watched. So not dead, but at least injured. He pushed down the impulse to go finish the job, Nightwing and Robin were the priority.

“It’s locked,” Robin said, shifting next to him. Jason saw him pull out lockpicks and rolled his eyes. He turned his gun on the door and fired.

“I had that,” the kid muttered, and the fact that Jason could hear him was not a good sign for their chances. He cast his eyes back over the room and he saw several goons had turned their way and were raising weapons.

“Move,” Jason shoved Robin through the door and stood to cover him and Nightwing with his body. With his gear still bundled in his left hand he was stuck with only one gun. He had to make every shot count.

He backed through the door firing. Watching goons fall with every kickback of the gun was immensely satisfying. Robin slammed the door and Jason turned to see him standing, supporting an unsteady Nightwing. A quick once over showed he probably didn't need to be carried.

“That’s not going to delay them, keep going,” Jason said.

“Because you shot the lock off,” Robin argued, but started heading toward the front door anyway. Jason took a step to follow and felt a dull throb in his abdomen. He recognized it and knew he had taken a bullet. It would hurt like a bitch when the adrenaline wore off, but they had to make it out first.

Jason stumbled slightly as they shoved out the front door into a parking lot full of cars that presumably belonged to the various goons inside. A quick scan revealed the most viable option for stealing was close. It was big enough to fit two vigilantes below the back seat height, and Jason was familiar with the ignition system. He started for it, dropping his gear next to the driver door and pulling on his jacket. He slipped his lockpicks from his hidden cuff pocket and went to work.

“This is a minivan,” Robin hissed, crouched next to him.

“Yes dipshit, I have eyes,” Jason said. The lock clicked open and he threw his stuff on the passenger seat as he hit the car car unlock for the rest of the car. Then he slid behind the wheel. He ignored Tim’s mumbled complaints as he popped out the key block to get at the ignition wires. Goons spilled out the warehouse door as the car rumbled to life. Jason threw it into reverse.

“Buckle-up,” He called to the back seat, grinning. Then he hit the gas. He immediately had to grit his teeth through the pain as the van accelerated. Goons raised their guns at the car but none were fast enough to get a shot in before the back of the minivan hit them. He stopped just before hitting the building, he didn’t want to risk damaging the vehicle. There were unfortunately no goons left in front of the car so he wasn’t able to repeat the trick as he pulled out of the lot.

“Where are you going?” Tim asked from the back seat.

“Keep your head down and focus on Nightwing,” Jason ordered, a pained gasp escaping him as he took a too sharp turn.

“I’m fine,” Dick said. Jason felt a tension in his chest loosen at his brother’s words. The gag had finally been removed at least, and the jangling suggested Tim was working on the cuffs.

“Glad to have you back Big Bird,” Jason said, then elected to ignore whatever Tim said next in favor of focusing on driving and not passing out. He didn’t see anyone behind him but he wasn’t risking slowing down.

He drove on autopilot. He stopped once to slam his hand on a palm scanner and type in a code before rocketting forward into a darkness that felt like home. He slammed the car to a halt as close to the medbay as he could get it and opened the  door to help move Nightwing. He stood up and his vision swam and went black. He didn’t feel himself hit the ground.

Chapter Text

Tim braced himself against the seats of the minivan as best as he could as they careened through Gotham. He was too preoccupied with trying to keep Dick from getting any more knocked around to pay attention to where they were going.

Jason was silent in the driver’s seat. Probably too focused on not killing them in a giant fireball with his reckless driving. Tim had gotten the gag off Dick, but the car was jostling too much for him to attempt the cuffs.

When he first hauled Dick into the van the man had pushed about trying to drive, but Tim had argued him back down. It was a testament to how injured Nightwing was that he listened and didn’t just climb into the front anyway.

The car jerked to a sudden stop. Tim took a moment to let his muscles relax a little from the tension required to brace him and Nightwing against Jason’s insane driving. He couldn’t collapse all the way down with Nightwing under his body and he didn’t know if they were going to start moving again. The sound of Jason opening his door indicated they had finally arrived wherever here was. Tim nearly sighed in relief.

Still disoriented, Tim adjusted so he could sit up without crushing Nightwing. The darkness outside of the windows made it clear they were underground, but that didn’t rule out much in Gotham. Tim looked toward the front of the van  just in time to watch Jason topple backward onto the seat he had just vacated. Tim waited a moment for him to recover before he realized Jason wasn’t moving.

Tim scrambled out the back of the van, cursing all minivans as he heaved on the heavy sliding door, frustrated by its slowness. Dick was starting to sit up off the floor when Tim got a good look at Jason.

He was pale, and the lights gleamed off the sheen of sweat visible on his forehead. There was a dark spot on the lower half of the driver’s seat. Staring at it Tim realized the liquid slowly seeping into the tan upholstery was blood. Looking back at Jason’s sprawled form he saw the man’s chest rise with rapid shallow breaths. His dark undershirt was sticking to him wetly. Jason must have been injured, probably shot in the fight given the number of bullets in the warehouse and Jason’s complete lack of armor during the fight.

Tim closed his eyes and ran through what to do with someone bleeding out. The information was slow to come, like a laggy computer. Stop the bleeding was definitely first. Apply pressure and a tourniquet if possible. Tim couldn’t see exactly where the wound was through the soaked black undershirt, but it was clearly in his torso, so a tourniquet was out.  Tim looked around for anything he could use to staunch the flow. Then he realized they were in the cave. Jason had somehow managed to drive them all the way here.

They were close to the medbay and Tim could see a gurney ready for emergencies. Dick was slowly emerging from the back seat. Tim looked between where Nightwing was pushing himself to his feet unsteadily, holding the door in a white knuckled grip. He was otherwise alert, looking around the cave with clear recognition in his eyes. Tim decided Nightwing would be fine in the short term, he definitely had a bad concussion and probably more than just bruises, but he was mobile and didn’t appear to be in immediate danger of also passing out.

“Put some pressure on the wound,” Tim said to him. Dick’s gaze landed on him and then passed on to the collapsed man next to him. Tim didn’t wait for Nightwing to process his words. He immediately sprinted for the gurney.  At the last second he detoured to grab compression bandages from a nearby cabinet and then slam the medical emergency call button that would summon Alfred. As he rolled the gurney toward Jason and Dick he heard the intercom come on but he ignored it. He could update Alfred when he got down.

“Come on, I need you to wake up Little Wing,” Nightwing was murmuring to Jason when Tim got back to the van. Without prompting he helped move Jason, taking his torso while Tim took the legs. Tim realized belatedly that the compression bandages wouldn’t be useful until they got Jason’s clothes clear of the damage.

“Fuck Little Wing,” Dick swore, “why did you go and get so big?” Nightwing had clearly located the wound and he returned to putting pressure on it once Jason was settled. His hands were dark where they were pressed against Jason’s abdomen blending in with the surrounding fabric. Tim failed not to notice the red streaks on the white sheets where Nightwing’s hands had brushed it.

They had just settled the gurney in the medbay when Alfred walked in. He was already reaching for gloves and rolling up his sleeves.

“My boys what-” Alfred froze when he saw Jason’s face. Then his eyes were snapping up to them, all business. “What happened.”

“GSW to the abdomen. Exit wound in the back,” Dick said. Alfred started bustling around, he didn’t seem surprised to see Jason. Dick tensed and, after a long moment, looked up at Alfred.

“You knew,” he said, and Tim’s breath caught in his chest. Tim’s eyes snapped over to Alfred who was gazing back at Dick expression unreadable. After a moment the butler looked back down at what he was doing.

“Yes,” he said simply. Dick opened his mouth to argue for a second and then shut it again. His mutinous expression made it clear this conversation wasn’t over but Jason’s life came first.

With the gurney settled in the medbay Tim stepped back. Dick and Alfred moved together like a well oiled machine despite Dick’s tension. Dick’s unsteadiness was all but gone, washed away in the adrenaline of his little brother bleeding out a few feet away. Occasionally Alfred gave a quiet instruction and Dick would deviate slightly from his previous trajectory. Tim watched the two of them work, feeling useless.

“Is master Bruce on his way?” Alfred asked.

“I- I’ll go let him know,” Tim said before taking off out of the medbay. He told himself he wasn’t fleeing.

Tim settled into the chair in front of the bat computer. It felt too big for him as he stared at the screens and he suddenly remembered that he had been ordered to stay in the cave. Normally the chair’s size just felt comforting, but now it felt like a reminder of the man it had been designed for. A reminder that he was out in Gotham looking for his son currently in critical condition one doorway away. Bruce had just gotten his son back and Tim was about to tell him that Tim had maybe gotten him killed a second time. Fingers shaking, Tim pressed the button to connect to Bruce’s coms.

“Batman.” The voice on the line came across mostly clear, just a hint of crackling static.

“Dick has been rescued,” Tim said, sticking to facts. “We’re in the cave and Dick is in the medbay with Red Hood.”

“Report.” Bruce’s voice held the standard gruffness and Tim wasn’t able to get a read on what his reaction was. Without being able to see the man there wasn’t anything else he could draw clues from.

“Red Hood and I rescued Nightwing from Black Mask earlier and J-Red Hood drove us back to the cave. He was shot. Nightwing and Agent A are with him in the medbay.” Tim’s statement was greeted by silence and Tim held perfectly still waiting for Batman’s response.

“Understood,” Batman said finally. “And Robin, we will be discussing your decisions at a later time.” Batman’s com clicked off.

Tim took a shaky breath, finally looking down and realizing the front of the Robin uniform was covered in blood. It must have been Jason’s blood from moving him. He stood up and headed to the changing rooms. He paused at the medbay but knew there wasn’t anything he could really do to help at this point.

_*_

Jason dreams of the cave. He dreams of Alfred bustling around the medbay, of Dick tucking his favorite Wonder Woman blanket around him. In his dream Alfred patches Dick up while his older brother watches him. Jason remembers the way his body had twisted away from the machine gun fire Jason had set off still pointed at him. He turns away and instead stares into the blank eyes of his helmet, a reminder of who he had become and everything he had lost. He wakes gasping through grave dirt, his broken fingernails bleeding into satin and wood unable to move.

“Jason stop, you’re safe Jay, it’s okay.”

He opens his eyes to Dick’s concerned face instead of the black nothingness of his coffin. Hands release his wrists and Jason breathes easier. Just hands, not the confines of a too small box six feet underground. He moves his arms up to look at his nails, relieved by the motion. His nails are still intact, no blood. The pit had wiped all his scars, and Jason runs his thumb over his fingers, using the sensation to reassure himself that he was alive. He lowers his arms before looking back at Dick.

“Hey Little Wing,” Dick says, relief palpable in his voice.

“Hey Dickface,” Jason croaks, his throat dry and scratchy.

“Here.” Dick proffers a straw and Jason carefully sips at the cool water, glancing around. “You’re in the cave medbay. You drove us here last night. You were shot, through and through, bullet missed anything vital, but you lost a lot of blood.”

Jason parses through all that information slowly while he floats. He remembers most of that, rescuing Nightwing with Robin, stealing a minivan. He does not remember driving to the cave. He registers that he should be more alarmed about that than he is but the emotions don’t come.

“Can’t have been that bad,” He says, voice smoother now that he’s had water. “Doesn’t hurt that much.” He goes to sit up and Dick puts a hand on his shoulder easily pushing him back down. He feels a tug in his side but nothing more, they must have him on the strong stuff. He knows normally he’s angry when they do that but the floaty feeling keeps those emotions away too.

“You’re on some pretty strong painkillers. You shouldn’t be moving yet. The bullet might have missed your organs but you’ve lost a lot of blood.” Dick looks at him with such earnest worry he relents and lays back down. He breaks eye contact to look around avoiding Dick’s open expression. He doesn’t deserve his brother’s worry.

The medbay looks pretty much the same as the last time he was here. Before Garzonas, before he’d left the only good thing he’d ever had. Cabinets with clear doors, medical supplies lined up in exactly the same places as before, the chest with the blankets had been turned ninety degrees to lay against the other wall and make space for an additional cabinet. But otherwise it was exactly the same.

“You still have this old thing?” Jason asks, finally registering the Wonder Woman blanket draped over him.

“Of course,” Dick said, sounding offended at the idea they wouldn’t. “I’m glad you’re back.” His smile was soft when Jason looked back up at him, and something twisted in Jason’s gut.

“I’m not a good person,” he said looking down again.

“You’re still my brother, regardless of what you believe.” Dick’s voice was still soft.

“I wanted to hurt Tim,” Jason doesn’t know why he says it. The guilt, distant as it was, twisted up his organs even as he didn’t feel the bullet hole torn through them.

“Do you still want to?”

“No,” Jason said, meeting Dick’s eyes. He needed his brother to know that.

“Then it doesn’t matter.” Dick’s tone was all airy dismissal and Jason opened his mouth to argue. Talia had said the same thing, but his guilt didn’t believe either of them.

“Jason,” Dick continued before he could get anything out, “you took a bullet for him. You knew you weren’t wearing any armor and you still stepped between Robin and a large number of bullets.”

“You were there too,” Jason protested but it was mumbled.

“I was on the floor Jay. I was the least likely to get hit. But you know what, let’s talk about that decision anyway. Because what the fuck Jason!” Dick’s voice went from gentle to scolding like the flipping of a switch. He gestured wildly and the old rolly chair he was sitting on squeaked in protest.

“He was supposed to stay on the rails and leave when you were down. I couldn’t let him get hurt just because the little shit didn’t listen,” Jason defended.

“He was wearing body armor, for that matter so was I. Everyone in that warehouse but you was better prepared to be shot at, and yet you decided to play shield.” Dick pauses for a moment, breathing rate increasing. Jason doesn’t have anything to say so he doesn’t. “You’re not bulletproof Jason,” Dick shouts, twisting his hands into the sheets, and his voice drops to almost a whisper as he says, “you nearly bled out, and you were so lucky they missed anything important. That bullet so easily could have gone in somewhere else and I would have lost you again. I can’t do that Jay.” There was a sheen in Dick’s eyes as his voice broke on Jason’s name. Abruptly Jason realized Dick was scared. “I just got you back.” Looking into his brother’s blue eys, Jason reached out and laid his hand on Dick’s where it was tangled up next to him, lacing their fingers together.

“I’m not going anywhere Big Bird,” Jason reassured. They sat there in silence until the next wave of painkillers pulled Jason back into sleep. As his eyes sunk closed, he saw Tim standing frozen in the medbay doorway, halfway hidden by the jamb he was gripping with white knuckles.

When Jason woke again it was to shouting in the cave. He identified the shrill voice of a teenager, likely Tim in this instance, and the infuriatingly calm bass of Batman. Jason remembered just how much that tone wound him up as a kid.

He pushed himself off the bed and removed his IV, grabbing a cotton ball to hold against it while he made his way out of the medbay.

Tim was standing next to the computer, anger and frustration written in every line of his body. Batman stood opposite, full cowl on, body deliberately relaxed.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me,” Tim was saying, starting to toe the line between shouting and tears.

“I can’t trust you if you don’t listen to me,” Batman said and took a step forward. In an instant Jason placed himself between them.

“Back off,” he snarled at Batman. The man’s eyes widened in surprise before his expression closed back off.

“This doesn’t concern you Hood. You are injured, go back to the medbay and rest. I’ll deal with you when I’m done with this.”

“The fuck it doesn’t!” Jason wasn’t letting this man hurt his little brother.

“Bruce,” Dick said, and Jason nearly startled, he hadn’t noticed his brother, now walking closer to the confrontation.

“This concerns neither of you,” Batman growled, starting to lose his stupid calm, and Jason felt a spike of satisfaction. He opened his mouth to push at the chink in Batman’s armor when the man took a step back and lowered his hands toward his belt.

Jason couldn’t stop his whole body flinch. For a moment a batarang was flying at his throat and Jason raised a hand up to shield his neck. It took a moment for the cave to coalesce back together, and Jason pulled his hand away from his throat wishing he had thought to grab a weapon from the pile of his gear in the medbay. He flexed his fingers centering himself in the present. They felt dry and Jason risked a quick glance down to confirm there was no sticky red clinging to them. Jason was standing in the batcave facing his ex-father whose hands were now splayed out away from his body, expression shifted to something soft.

“Son, you need to rest,” he said, and Jason heard his dad’s voice for the first time since digging out of his grave. He faltered. The longing he felt to just let his dad wrap him in strong arms and tell him it was all going to be okay slammed into him. He blinked sudden tears out of his eyes and reminded himself of the way the battarang had felt as it tore through his neck. The feeling of betrayal felt like a ghost he couldn’t reach but he shoved the longing back down anyway.

“Not your son,” he said, proud that his voice only wavered a little. Jason’s hands balled into fists as he fought not to crumble. He forced his brain away from the memory of that hard armor against his feverish side and wrapped over his shoulders as they curled up together on the soft couch. He reminded himself of the sink breaking on his head in that empty apartment, the joker alive a wall away. He couldn’t let Batman anywhere near Tim. He wanted to believe Bruce wouldn’t hurt him but he’d once thought his dad wouldn’t hurt Jason either. 

“Bruce I think you need to leave,” Dick said, his voice ice. Batman turned toward Dick, but before he could respond Dick was continuing, “you’ve done enough damage.”

_*_

Dick was working out on the mats exploring his current range of motion following his short stint as Black Mask’s punching bag the previous night. He was careful with his motions knowing he was on the strong meds, stopping the moment anything pulled even slightly. Alfred wouldn’t approve but Dick was restless. When Batman started lecturing Robin he kept an ear out to monitor the conversation. When Tim’s voice started rising in register he abandoned his exercises and started making his way over to the two standing face to face in the middle of the cave.

Suddenly Jason stepped between Tim and Bruce, facing their father. He looked murderous. Dick continued moving closer, worried for Jason, he was still injured, he shouldn’t be up and moving. 

“Bruce,” Dick called, trying to get him to back down so they could get Jason back to bed. He was not surprised when he was ignored.

“This concerns neither of you,” Batman said and Dick nearly rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the comment but he was too wary of the standoff to take his eyes off his father and brother.

Then Batman moved and Jason flinched, hand coming up to cover the scar on his next protectively. Dick’s breath caught. He had seen the jagged red mark that sliced across the right side of Jason’s neck front to back. The scar was lumpy and uneven, clearly a product of the poor stitching job, and Dick had assumed Jason had done it himself but hadn’t thought much more of it. The Red Hood’s disappearance following his fight with Batman suddenly made a lot more sense if Batman had sliced Red Hood’s neck open.

Anger roared through Dick’s body, fire radiating from his chest before settling into an icy chill that froze its way up his spine. The world around him fell away. Bruce said something but Dick didn’t process it.

“Not your son,” Jason replied, and that sliced through the haze. Dick’s vision sparked white and his breath stuttered like a punch to the gut from Bane. The three words cemented the knowledge that Bruce had hurt his brother as truth.

“Bruce, I think you need to leave,” Dick said when he could breathe again. He had thought it was only him. Batman had only hit him a few times over the years and he had never seen evidence of him doing it to Jason or Tim. His relationship had always been more contentious than the one Bruce had with either the other two. The man was a good dad and Dick had goaded him into it. It was fine he had let it go. He regretted it now.

“You’ve done enough damage,” his voice said as Batman turned the full force of his attention on Dick. Jason’s flinch replayed in his head and he looked past the wall of black armor to Jason’s startled face and Tim’s wide eyes.

“Leave,” Dick repeated, fully aware he was in no shape to take on Batman. The man took a step toward him and Dick’s blood sung with the promise of a fight anyway. He was desperate for somewhere to put all this anger, filled with a vicious desire to make his dad look as broken as his little brother standing just behind him. Something must have shown in Dick’s expression because Batman paused.

“I’m going to change and we can have this conversation once you all have calmed down,” Batman said, then swept toward the locker room with a dramatic swirl of a cape that made Dick want to lunge forward and yank him back by it. 

He held himself still and watched Batman until he disappeared and then closed his eyes, breathing through the anger. As it faded he felt a sick remorse for wanting to hurt his dad.  Dick wasn’t any better than him, wanting to hurt his family just because he was angry.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to his brothers.

“What for,” Jason said gruffly.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” he said, looking over at where Jason was standing, still shielding Tim from the locker room with his body. He was pale and shaking. Tim was looking between them and the locker room, brow furrowed the way it did when he was putting together the pieces of a case.

“Fuck that. Bastard deserved it,” Jason said, but it lacked heat.

“Do you have somewhere you can stay to recover?” There was no way Dick was letting Jason stay here with the man who had, apparently, slit his throat.

“I’m not leaving the kid,” Jason said. They stared at each other for a moment, both grappling with the problem Tim represented. He was a minor and officially in Bruce’s custody.

“I’ll take him, we can go to the penthouse or something.”

“Fine,” Jason said after a long moment. Then moved toward where the minivan was haphazardly parked. He ducked back into the medbay for a second and emerged with his gear. 

“I can take care of myself,” Tim objected.

“I know,” Dick said reassuringly, “But until I know more I don’t feel comfortable with you here.”

“We’re taking the minivan,” Jason says, already walking toward it.

“There’s no way you’re driving with that bullet wound again.”

“I haven’t actually agreed to go with you, and I’m still in my suit,” Tim said.

“We can deal with the trackers later.” Dick waves his hand at Tim, beating Jason to the van and pulling open the driver’s side door before Jason could get any more ideas. 

“Don’t worry squirt, I’ll get you some new clothes,” Jason said, ruffling Tim’s hair. Both of them completely ignore Tim’s main objection.

Dick looked at Tim warily, if he didn’t want to leave there wasn’t much Dick could actually do about it. Tim looked between them dubiously. Then his gaze settled on Jason and, as Dick watched, he started following his big brother like a brightly colored duckling.

Letting go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Dick stepped aside to let Jason hotwire the car. He ordered Jason into the back when he was done. He got a glare in return, but Jason went with minimal grumbling showing just how much pain he was in. Tim helped Jason into the back and closed the door, muttering about how whoever had designed this door should be strung up from the car headquarters by their toes for how difficult it was to move.

Confirming everyone was settled in, Dick pushed logistics problems aside for later him and peeled out of the cave before Batman could emerge and try to stop them.

Chapter Text

The minivan rumbled and rattled through the quiet Bristol streets. Jason could hear a loose belt. He focused on the sound of the car, trying to diagnose what else was wrong with it. Anything to keep his mind off what had just happened. He had confidently determined the left rear tire was out of balance when Dick spoke.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Dickface, I’m just peachy.” Jason rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t in too much pain?”

“You loaded me with plenty of drugs, I’m fine.”

“Tim?” Dick directed his focus to the teen in the back seat.

“What,” Tim squeaked, sitting up straighter, surprised to be addressed. “Yeah, I’m good. I wasn’t injured.” Dick’s lips twisted downward clearly that wasn’t what he meant by the question but he chose not to push the issue.

“Right,” Dick said. The car fell back into silence.

Jason tried to focus back on the car, but kept getting distracted by Dick’s fidgeting. His brother tapped his left foot, then swapped to drumming his fingers on the steering wheel interspersed with aborted movements for the stereo. Jason was about ready to snap at him when he stilled and spoke again.

“Did he really-” Dick started before trailing off, unable to finish the question. The way he glanced at Jason and tightened his grip on the steering wheel made it abundantly clear what he was asking about.

The drugs were still running through Jason’s system, the fading floating feeling still strong enough to keep the worst of the emotions away. Jason remembered the steel of Dick’s spine as he stood between Jason and Batman. He deserved the truth.

“I asked him to choose between me and the Joker. I had a gun at the Joker’s head, he threw a battarang to stop me pulling the trigger.” Jason said into the continuing silence. The sounds of the city grew louder around them as they left Bristol and entered Gotham proper.

“He hit me.” The words were strangled like they had been forcibly pulled from his older brother’s mouth. “Not often, just a couple times. I didn’t- I thought it was just me.” Even through the darkness of the car the glow of the streetlights shifting through as they passed below them illuminated Dick’s face enough for Jason to see that he was ashamed. Jason wondered if that was the first time Dick had ever told anyone, ever said those three words aloud. They echoed through Jason’s brain on repeat.

“He’s a bastard,” Jason said. Dick frowned and opened his mouth to argue then closed it. Tim made a dissenting noise in the back of the van.

“He’s Batman,” Tim argued, like that excused any of his behavior.

“I don’t care, he-”

“Please-” Dick cut him off. “Please not right now.” Jason took a calming breath, he wanted to shake his brother into understanding that Bruce didn’t care. But Dick looked as broken as he had in Jason’s apartment so long ago yesterday. Jason never wanted to be the reason Dick made that expression again.

“Okay,” Jason said. “Where are we headed?”

“The penthouse.”

“Seriously I thought we were trying to get away from him, not just walk right back into his arms,” Jason said, startled into shouting. Dick winced and he felt shame wash through him.

“I don’t have a place in the city Jason.” Dick sounded tired.

“It’s a good idea,” Tim said from the back seat. “If we have to leave it makes sense. He lost his mind when Dick went missing last time. He’s less likely to show up if he knows where we are.”

“He’s a control freak, he’ll show up anyway.”

“He won’t,” Dick said firmly. Jason shot him a dubious look. “If he does I’ll deal with it.” Dick assured a core of steel in his voice even through the clear exhaustion.

Jason huffed but decided to leave it alone for now. He clearly wasn’t going to change Dick’s mind. Tim agreeing, however reluctantly, made it two against one, he was outnumbered. With a grumble Jason let it go and shifted to try and settle more comfortably in his seat, his bullet wound starting to protest his upright position.

The rest of the drive to the penthouse was silent. They pulled into the building’s underground garage and parked easily. They took the private elevator and Jason had to reluctantly admit there were perks to being rich. It really reduced the amount of sneaking around required. 

“Tim, why don’t you grab a shower first?” Dick said when everyone had emptied into the massive open floor plan living space.

The kitchen was to the left, separated by a massive marble topped island. Several modern style couches were arrayed in the rest of the open area. They looked like they had been designed more for aesthetics than any level of comfort. A hallway to the right led deeper into the apartment to the private areas and bedrooms.

Jason found himself staring out the floor to ceiling windows that wrapped around making up two walls of the space. Gotham was laid out before him, glittering in the predawn light. He couldn’t stop from searching for the flickering shadow of Batman between the lights.

“Sure,” Tim said. Jason saw him glance between them in their ghostly reflections. “Oh yeah,” Tim came up to Jason holding out his hand “Here, I swiped this before B got to it.”

In Tim’s hand sat Jason’s phone. Not one of his burners, but his reliable work phone. Only a few of his lieutenants had the number. It was the only consistent way to contact him.

He looked at Tim as he took the phone from the kid’s outstretched hand. Tim looked back up at him, still dressed in the Robin colors. Away from the dim lighting of the cave and sans domino the bags under his eyes were easier to see, the slight tremble in his hand and drooping of his posture showed how exhausted he really was. Looking down from his new height Robin looked like an exhausted kid in a costume. Jason wondered how he could ever have forgotten Robin was more than a suit and symbol, that Robin was a child. Jason wondered if he’d been that small when he died. Dick’s stories might have helped Jason realize Robin was Dick’s little brother, but something about the exhausted kid in front of him made it more real somehow.

“Thanks,” Jason said, voice strangled.

“No problem,” Tim said. With one last apprehensive glance between him and Dick the kid disappeared further into the hallway to the private area of the apartment.

After a long moment Jason focused back on the phone and was instantly overwhelmed by the number of messages and missed calls he had. A quick skim showed it was mostly demands for updates and proof of life.

The little bubble he’d been in since he’d worked with Robin to rescue Nightwing burst. This was a nice fantasy but he couldn’t stay here and play house with Nightwing and Robin. He needed to take care of his people. If anyone thought for a moment he was weak they wouldn’t hesitate to attack.

He closed the phone and set it down on top of the pile of gear he’d abandoned on a nearby couch. With a sigh he ran a hand down his face. The pain in his abdomen was increasing and he took the moment to center himself and push it out of the way. Looking over at Dick, he saw his brother was braced on spread hands against the island countertop, gaze focused on the swirls in the marble.

“I need to leave,” Jason said. It felt like a betrayal and he hated it, but he couldn’t let everything he’d built fall apart either. Originally the Red Hood Gang had been a means to an end but at some point he’d started caring, had started building something more than a distraction to grab Batman’s attention.

“What?” Dick whirled around.

“I need to leave. I need to deal with this mess Sionis created.”

“You can’t just leave, Jason. What about Tim?”

“I trust you. You can protect Tim, but I have a whole organization below me and I can’t just disappear on them.”

Dick stared at him, emotions warring across his face. Guilt swirled in Jason’s gut for ruining Dick’s relationship with Bruce and abandoning him. Tim barely knew him, he’d get over it, but he’d already learned Dick thought he was responsible for everything and here he was adding to it.

“I’m not-” Jason paused, gathering his thoughts. Talia’s voice rang in his head ‘be honest with yourself first’. Jason let himself feel his emotions. Below the anger was the fear of being in Batman’s space, for the people under his protection; the guilt for abandoning Dick after causing this mess, for ever wanting to hurt Robin; The wonder that Dick didn’t hate him, that his big brother had stood up for him. For a second everything threatened to swamp him, then he clenched his fists and slowly released the tension in his body, letting everything bleed out with the motion and rebuilding his walls. He boxed everything up and focused back on his brother.

“I’ll be around. If you need anything I’ll be there, but I can’t be here . This is still Batman’s territory and I can’t-” Jason struggled to find the words for a moment and then gave up when nothing came. “I just can’t. I’m not trying to abandon you, I still want to help- and I will. But I can’t abandon my people either, I need to be in my territory.”

“Okay,” Dick said after a long silence. His eyes flickered between Jason and the windows at the mention of Batman. “I get it. “ His brother didn’t look any less devastated, but he looked like he was starting to try and pull himself together.

Jason watched his brother as he closed his eyes and his breaths stuttered through what Jason recognized as the same pattern he used for panic attacks. It was like watching someone try and repair a plaster wall with cardboard and string. He found himself in front of Dick reaching out. He didn’t know what he was planning to do, but Dick answered the question for him, stepping forward and pulling him into a hug.

In response Jason returned the hug. With the new size difference, his brother felt fragile in his arms. He squeezed tighter at the thought. Jason wasn’t going to let Dick think he was alone anymore. He resolved to make sure he was there to support Dick in whatever he needed. Even if he couldn’t be here right now he wasn’t going to leave brother on his own.

Jason didn’t know how long they stood there hugging, but eventually Dick pulled back. He looked tired, but less like he was a priceless glass artwork Jason had just shattered into a thousand pieces.

“Okay,” Dick said. “Just- just come back?”

“I will,” Jason said. “You can call or text me anytime.” They gave each other weak smiles as Jason grabbed his gear and backed into the elevator.

_*_

Tim looked around the living room as he walked in, toweling his hair dry. The events of the night were swirling through his mind, but he was too tired to process anything.

“Where’s Jason?” His gear was gone, Tim wondered if he’d grabbed one of the bedrooms to crash in.

“Gone,” Dick said from where he stood against the breakfast bar.

“What, but he was just here. He’s injured he can’t run around he-”

“I know,” Dick cut him off. “He left. He has to take care of Crime Alley.”

“Can’t he do that from here?” Tim said. Distantly he could tell his voice was getting louder but he couldn’t get his body to listen to his orders to stop.

“He doesn’t feel safe here baby bird,” Dick said gently. Tim blinked away the tears trying to form in his burning eyes. 

“When are we going home?” he asked. Dick looked startled, then his expression crumpled.

“I don’t know. I need to know you’re safe.”

“The manor is safe.”

“Bruce nearly killed Jason,” Dick said. “And he’s- he has a history.” Dick didn’t need to elaborate, Tim had heard the conversation in the car just fine. He took a moment to really look at Dick. He was visibly exhausted, his shoulders slumped. His skin was pale under the bright lights of the penthouse that highlighted the bags under his eyes. And he was uncharacteristically still, all of the small fidgets and constant movement slowed to nothing.

Tim thought about Bruce, trying to imagine him hurting Tim. He was the best parent Tim had ever had. He took the time to personally pick Tim up from school when he could. He asked Tim how his day was and was genuinely interested in his answers. He wanted to know about more than Tim’s grades, things like how his friends were and what classes and teachers he did and didn’t like. Batman and Tim had once spent an entire patrol debating whether running in the rain made you more wet or less, and later he helped Tim write out an equation based on the heaviness of the rain and the speed of movement. Was all that worth nothing?

“I have school on Monday,” Tim said, pointing out the first reason he could think of to go back. Dick just sighed.

“I’ll go to the manor and pick up your stuff, it’s only Friday, or Saturday at this point I guess.” Dick said, glancing out the window at the brightening sky.

Tim glared. He could feel the tears he tried to stop escaping from the edges of his eyes. 

“I’m going to bed,” he declared and stormed into his usual room at the penthouse. He slammed the door just because it made him feel better.

He flopped onto the bed and let the silent heaving sobs wrack his body until they finally stopped as abruptly as always. He flipped the now wet pillow over and fell asleep wrapped in the unfamiliar bedding.

_*_

Jason ignored Tom’s glare as he pulled his shirt back on and started on his armor.

“Please don’t pull those stitches. I’m a nurse not a surgeon,” Tom groused at Jason’s movement. Jason just rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for checking it over,” he said.

“I’d feel better if you’d agree to take something.”

“I did agree to take something,” Jasojn said, grinning at him and shaking the bottle of antibiotics someone had scrounged up at Tom’s orders.

“God save us from the stupidity of youth,” Tom muttered.

That had been a surprise when Jason took his helmet off for Tom’s check-up. Only Tom and Luka were in the room, but both had been shocked by his age. At least neither had questioned his competency.

“You’re not invincible,” Tom said, giving Jason a stern look.

“I know,” Jason met Tom’s eyes trying not to think of crowbars and smoke. Tom looked at him doubtfully but let it go. Jason felt bad but he couldn’t exactly explain that painkillers didn’t last that long when because he’d been dunked in a magical glowing pool.

“The crew’s ready when you are, boss,” Luka said, coming back into the room. He was a pale skinny man, taller even than Jason with salt and pepper hair the only indication of his age. He was in charge of shipment logistics and requisitions. He had a solid head on his shoulders and Jason trusted him not to make decisions rashly. He had proven he could think through future ramifications of plans often from angles Jason hadn’t considered. And most importantly he wasn’t afraid of telling Jason his opinion.

He’d once called Jason a ‘self-sacrificing idiot’ to his face in front of his assembled lieutenants and told him to ‘stop being so damn stubborn, you have a team asshole, use it’. The final plan had provided Jason with far more backup and gone flawlessly.

“There’s some concerns about your closeness with Nightwing and Robin,” Luka said with forced casualness. Jason’s attention snapped to him. Luka simply stared back impassively, not providing any additional commentary or indicating his opinion of the matter. 

“Thank you for the heads up,” Jason said. “Let’s get this show started then.” He crammed his helmet on and shrugged on his jacket.

Jason walked into what he had been affectionately calling the War Room flanked by Luka and Tom. He headed to his seat at the head of the meeting tables and Luka sat in his normal seat at Jason’s right. Tom settled into a guard position at the door. Jason’s eyes flicked to him, he had expected Tom to stand outside. The way the man’s sharp eyes surveyed the assembly combined with Luka’s earlier comment made him increase the estimation of threat level. He turned his attention to his assembled lieutenants.

They were arranged in various cast off chairs around the two long folding tables that had been shoved together to accommodate the massive maps Jason liked using for planning. A pile of the maps detailing various areas of Gotham were scattered across the table. A rolling white board was pushed to the edge of the room, currently blank.

“Thank you for coming,” Jason said. Before he could get any further he was bombarded with questions.

“Are you friends with Nightwing?”

“Did you work with Robin to rescue Nightwing?”

“Are you allied with Batman?”

“Enough!” Jason shouted over the ruckus. Luka had updated him on the situation in the alley including the bat’s crusade while Tom looked him over. Why anyone was asking him if they were working together was baffling.

“I am not working with Batman,” Jason spat the name out. “Black Mask taunted me with the body of one of our own. I could not let that stand.” A few people tried to speak but he held up his hand and they quieted down. He had thought about how to spin this if it came up, he just needed to stay calm. “I worked with Robin, who was already at the warehouse when I got there since our goals aligned.”

He took a breath, the next bit was less true and he needed to sell it. “Batman was looking through our territory for Nightwing, he clearly thought we were responsible for his disappearance. If Black Mask killed Nightwing we would have been blamed. Until Nightwing went missing Batman left us alone, that status quo was working. Saving Nightwing will hopefully buy us some favor with the Bat.” Jason knew that was complete horseshit, but his men hopefully didn’t. “Saving Nightwing was a good tactic to get the bat off our back and damage Black Mask in the process.

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you’ve been all buddy-buddy with Nightwing recently?”

“No,” Jason said. “I am not working with Nightwing or any of the bats for that matter.”

“You’ve been seen talking with him,” Ling said and Jason took note of how much he was pushing, he’d asked several other questions as well.

“Hurting Nightwing or Robin is the fastest way to invite a bat problem which is what I have been trying to avoid. It has been made clear he is not welcome here.” It hadn’t, but Jason would let Dick know to butt out as soon as he had a free moment with his phone. He wouldn’t be patrolling the next few days anyway, between his injuries and Tim to look out for.

“Is that all?” Jason said, his tone making it clear the topic was closed despite the phrasing. He looked around the table. Luka had started shuffling through the maps, Ling glared down at his own papers avoiding eye contact, and Michael scowled back at him from his seat across the table. He recalled Michael and Ling had been the most vocal and made a mental note to keep a closer eye on them. He would need to keep an eye on them. They were both in charge of different branches of the drug trade, and he wouldn't expect them to be able to work together, but he also knew better than to make assumptions.

“What we need to focus on here is Black Mask. He has declared war with this stunt. He was injured in the fight at the warehouse. Now is the time to strike.”

“What’s the plan boss?” Luka asked. The rest of the table shifted at his words, fully focusing on the task before them.

“First we need intel. I want to know where he’s holed up, what’s his protection look like. And I want a list of who’s available for an assault and our weapons situation.”

The room quickly transformed into the organized chaos of a well oiled machine. Tasks were laid out and distributed. Jason grinned behind the helmet, Black Mask was going to pay, and this time Jason wasn’t going to fucking miss.

Chapter Text

Dick sat in one of Bruce’s overpriced cars, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It was the only available car at the penthouse that had any hope of transporting suitcases. Dick just wished it wasn’t uncomfortably close to Nightwing blue and graced with vanity plates that said BRUCIE.

He looked out the window at the front door of the manor and willed himself to get out of the car. His body didn’t move. Burce and Alfred definitely knew he was here, there was no reason to keep stalling. 

Maybe he should have called first. At least that would have given him some kind of gauge of where Bruce was at. He had walled off in the cave before the three of them had fled like idiots. Bruce didn’t like surprises, and he would not have been pleased to emerge and find them gone. He could also be an overprotective control freak and they had left with two of them injured and sent no updates. There was a very good chance Bruce was going to be angry and meet Dick with lectures and demands.

On the other hand, Bruce had asked to discuss when everyone could be rational, and that was technically what Dick was doing. There was no telling who Dick was going to get when he opened that door. Either way Bruce was not going to take Dick keeping Tim from him as well. He liked ultimatums even less than he liked surprises.

Dick refused to think about Alfred. He didn't know why he felt so betrayed by the man’s silence about Jason. Alfred had always been loyal to Bruce first. His silence should have been a matter of course, not a burning brand of hurt in Dick’s chest.

Eventually, Dick found himself climbing out of the car without conscious thought. More an attempt to run from his swirling thoughts than any desire to hasten the confrontation.

It felt odd walking up to the front door. Normally they used the door from the garage or the cave to come and go. The main door was for guests and non-family. Something about the situation just made him too uncomfortable to barge in like normal. As if somehow he was a thief despite having codes and keys and technically living here, up till last night at least.

With a deep breath Dick raised his hand and pressed the doorbell. The old door felt like it should be knocked on, but the manor was too large for that to ever be practical. There was a perfectly modern doorbell next to the massive door. The chimes that rang inside at the button-press only increased the sense of weird-wrong.

After a minute, during which Dick failed not to fidget despite knowing exactly how many cameras were focused on him, Alfred opened the door. 

“Master Dick,” he said as if absolutely nothing was odd about the situation. Something about that eased Dick’s anxiety. Something about that infuriated him.

“Alfred,” Dick greeted. Alfred stepped aside and Dick followed him into the grand entryway, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.

“Master Bruce is in the family room if you would like to speak with him.”

“I-” Dick hesitated. Seeing Bruce had been phrased as optional and not a requirement. Dick could proceed to collect what he needed and leave without speaking to him. The confrontation with Bruce terrified him, but at the same time he knew the anxiety would tie him into knots if he didn’t go. It would drive him crazy not knowing how Bruce felt and waiting constantly for him to show up and demand answers. He couldn’t make his mouth form words so he just nodded to Alfred.

“I shall prepare tea for you,” Alfred said, still unruffled. The man turned and headed toward the kitchen. With a breath Dick started making his own way to the family room.

A part of him was relieved that Bruce had picked a space in the manor and not the cave. The other part of him continued to spiral in anxiety. At least with the cave Dick knew to expect Batman. Picking the family room was strategic, everything Bruce did was. Dick couldn’t think through the anxiety to work out what Bruce was trying to communicate with it. 

The family room was the living room that everyone preferred to hang out in to relax. It was chosen mostly due to its proximity to the theater and stairs to the family wing. He wasn’t sure he wanted the memories of this conversation forever tied to the room, especially if it went poorly. Not that Dick knew what the conversation going poorly would look like, or what going well would either for that matter.

Eventually Dick reached the room and walked through the open door. Bruce was seated on one of the couches, texting on his phone. He put it down as Dick walked in.

“Hey chum,” Bruce said, he looked calm, his body language open.

“Hi,” Dick said, failing to mask the nervousness in his voice. He moved to sit on the enormous couch chair opposite Bruce. There was plenty of space for Dick on the other end of the couch Bruce was in without even having to be close to him. The chair put half the room and the coffee table between them. It also put him closer to the door. He knew Bruce would recognize what he was doing, but he was anxious enough without putting himself within arms reach and he tried not to think too hard about that thought.

The two of them stared at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Dick didn’t have the first idea of how to start this conversation.

“Why did you leave?” Bruce startled both of them with the question. Dick stared at him incredulously for a second. Did the man have no idea of the problem at all? Any relief that Bruce appeared to be handling this rationally got lost in overwhelming frustration.

“You threw a battarang at Jason’s throat.”

“That explains why Jason left. He has made his opinion of me quite clear,” Bruce said, his lips downturned in a sad frown. “Why did you and Tim leave?”

“You nearly killed my little brother. And you-” Dick thought about the feeling of Bruce’s hand striking his face, the memory held more surprise and hurt than pain. It had only been a few times when Bruce was emotional. He wondered if Bruce even remembered. His mouth was open but wouldn’t form the words.

“Jason’s situation is complicated,” Bruce said when Dick had been quiet too long.

“He is your son,” Dick said, his voice harsh. “He’s your son,” he repeated softer.

“Jason doesn’t agree with that assessment.” Bruce’s voice held the blankness Dick knew he used when he was covering strong emotion. The memory of Jason’s wrecked declaration in the cave played in Dick’s head, the scar vivid against his neck.

“Have you considered that maybe that’s because you tried to kill him!” Dick shouted.

“You do not have all the information regarding the Red Hood.”

“Because you won’t tell me! You kept the fact that my little brother came back to life from me.” Dick swallowed against the lump in his throat, trying to keep his voice from breaking.

“This isn’t about Jason, this is about why you and Tim left.”

“Yes it is! Tim is your son too,” Dick said. He didn’t point out his own status. Technically he’d never been adopted and that was a can of worms he wasn’t touching right now. 

“You are worried I will hurt Tim,” Bruce said, surprised.

“Yes,” Dick said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Bruce didn’t respond, his brows pulling together in that way they did when he was trying to process evidence for a case. Dick didn’t know if he was frustrated that the man was just realizing the situation now or glad he was acknowledging the problem at all.

Alfred came in with the tray of tea, breaking the heavy silence that blanked the room with the soft clink of china. He paused when he was done for a moment, uncharacteristically hesitant. Then he turned and left. Dick let the silence linger, giving Bruce the time to process. Pushing was only likely to make him defensive.

“I do not want to hurt you or Tim,” Bruce said eventually. It was as close to an ‘I love you’ as the man ever got. Dick noticed he had been included but Jason hadn’t.

“I know B, but sometimes that’s not enough,” Dick said. He had never doubted that Bruce loved him but that hadn’t changed their harsh words to each other or stopped Bruce from getting physical those few times.

“I can’t- until I know he’s safe I don’t want Tim around you.” Dick winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He expected Bruce to get angry at what was effectively an ultimatum. Instead Bruce just looked sad.

“What would make you believe he’s safe with me?” Bruce asked and Dick stared at him incredulously, completely thrown by the acceptance that Dick was the authority here.

“I don’t know,” Dick said, surprising himself with the knowledge that he would let Tim return under some set of circumstances, even if he didn’t know what they were. “We need time.”

“Okay,” Bruce said, though his lips were twisted down in displeasure. “What about Robin?” Dick winced. Robin was an issue he had been avoiding thinking about.

“He can patrol with me for the time being,” Dick said after a long moment to think it over. He hadn’t had much time to think about it, but he knew benching Tim would just make him go out on his own. Bruce nodded at his statement.

The room fell into awkward silence and Dick sipped his tea for something to do. Bruce turned his cup in his hand looking pensive. If it was anyone else Dick would say he was fidgeting.

“I would like updates,” Bruce said eventually. Dick frowned, instantly defensive. He reminded himself that Bruce had been very reasonable so far. He hadn’t demanded they return to the manor, and had accepted Dick’s need for time.

“Okay,” Dick said. “But communication goes through me.” Dick paused thinking it over more. “I won’t give you any information on Jason. Any communication he wants is his decision.” Dick was pretty sure the amount of communication Jason wanted with Bruce was none, and would probably be pissed Dick was sharing anything with their father.

“Daily text messages on Tim’s status,” Dick offered.

“And you.”

“What?”

“Updates on how you’re doing as well, and I want to be allowed to ask follow-up questions.” Bruce sounded earnest. Dick’s brows pulled together in thought.

“Okay. Daily text messages about myself and Tim. You can ask questions but I have the right not to answer. Any phone calls are initiated by me.”

“I agree to those terms for now. I would like to reevaluate in a month,” Bruce said after a moment of consideration.

“Okay.” Something in Dick’s chest eased. He had been so anxious since the reveal in the cave. Most of him had expected the worst of Bruce, but now sitting in front of the man sipping his tea he wondered why. In the past he had had similar conversations with Bruce over the years when there had been disagreements. They had sat in Bruce’s study and negotiated things like how often Dick was allowed to patrol and homework expectations.

Bruce had been angry in the cave, but he’d also been the one to step back when things got heated. He hadn’t made a move to hurt anyone. The silence between them now was comfortable like so many times before. 

“If you need anything please don’t hesitate to call. I don’t agree with your decisions but I can see it’s what you need right now. I lost you before, and I lost Jason. I don’t want to lose you over this. I will be here if you need me.

Dick stared at Bruce in surprise. That was better communication than he thought he’d ever gotten. His throat closed up and he was unable to do anything but nod in response.

“I’ll be in my study if you need anything,” Bruce said standing up. He paused to place his hand on Dick’s shoulder for a moment, telegraphing his movements. The feeling was comforting, bringing back memories of all the times Bruce had done this before.

He sat there in the silent family room long after Bruce had left gathering his thoughts. Eventually he couldn’t delay any longer. He’d left Tim alone in the penthouse and there was no telling what trouble a Robin could get into when sufficiently bored.

_*_

Jason sat on top of the rooftop opposite the nondescript office building Sionis was currently holed up in. He stayed below the parapet, invisible to any guards. Stealth was important on this op until everyone was in place. It had taken three days to plan and the timing was crucial. He listened to the check-ins of his crew as he set up his sniper rifle and double checked the rocket launcher next to it.

He had wanted to lead the charge into the building, show everyone that the Red Hood was alive and kicking. But he had been convinced to settle for firing the opening salvo from a safe distance and serving as backup to pick off anyone who tried to run. His men were taking his bullet wound way too seriously. He couldn’t disagree that he was by far the best sniper they had though, even if the shots he would be expected to take wouldn’t be particularly difficult. A small part of him acknowledged that he was not in any shape to fight hand to hand. Even the rocket launcher was probably pushing it.

After final checks were complete Jason grinned and stood. Nobody could see his expression with the helmet on but there was a vicious satisfaction in it anyway. Shouldering the rocket launcher caused a twinge in his abdomen but it didn’t feel like he’d torn any stitches. He aimed at the front doors of the building and fired. Info had suggested they were reinforced, but very little was able to withstand a rocket launcher at what was basically point blank range for the weapon in question.

The resulting explosion blew a hole in the front of the building far larger than the doors. Parts of the street and all of what could be seen of the interior was on fire. For a moment there was silence then Jason’s assault crew pulled into the street in several vehicles. They streamed into the building armed to the teeth in the best weaponry they had. The fact that most of it had been stolen from Roman was a bonus. Soon the night filled with the sound of gunfire and shouts.

They had paid off the police to delay response, but Jason had started a countdown to an estimated emergency response time in his helmet. He didn’t need this becoming a three-way with his people caught in the middle.

Ignoring the ache in his bullet wound, he set the rocket launcher down and lowered himself into position behind his rifle. The rocket launcher had maybe been a bit much, he could reluctantly admit. But visuals were important. He needed to be seen participating, not just barking orders from the sidelines. With a breath he pushed all his aches and pains away and focused on the scope. Manny’s group was guarding the building, he could trust them to hold any attack from behind.

The world shrunk to the view through his scope and the feel of the gun where it came in contact with his body. The first runners stumbled out of the still burning hole in the facade and Jason picked them off easily. Clean headshots. At this range it was hardly a challenge.

The timer was approaching the retreat mark when several of his people emerged dragging a mostly limp Black Mask between them. They dropped him to his knees just past the blown out entrance and one dragged his head up to face where Jason was hidden. Jason wanted to jump down, to beat Black Mask into a bloody pulp. He wanted to deliver all the pain Roman had caused ten-fold. He wanted the man to know why, to make sure he knew this was for Stephanie, that there would be no more dead Robins. 

Instead he breathed out calmly and pulled the trigger. Two in the head and the rest of the clip in the chest. He only noticed that he’d lost count of his shots once he felt his gun click empty.

It would never be enough. Roman Sionis deserved so much worse, but Jason had to let practicality rule over his emotions. His teachers had tried to drill that into him over and over. Completing the job was more important than the emotional satisfaction. Batman had been the one to hammer that lesson home.

His people dropped Black Mask to the ground and Jason stood. It was a risk, but he wanted to be seen. He needed to stand victorious over Sionis’ dead body.

The countdown beeped softly in his ear. He activated his comm and gave the order to retreat. The crew monitoring the police frequency hadn’t indicated any activity but Jason saw no reason to tempt fate today.

He packed up along with everyone else, a feeling of relief in his chest. He still needed to debrief before he could go home, and tomorrow he would need to start consolidating his power over Sionis’ territory. But for now he let himself feel the vicious satisfaction of avenging a Robin, even if it wasn’t him.

_*_

Jason trudged up the stairs of his apartment building. He checked his security on autopilot more than any conscious decision and it took him a moment to register his alarms were disengaged.

Adrenaline spiked through his sore body and he drew his gun. He started to check the door for evidence of explosives. He was feeling along the jamb when the door swung open. He raised his gun and then immediately lowed it when he recognized Talia’s exasperated face.

“Do come in habibi,” she said. He holstered his gun, somehow more exhausted than before.

“It’s my place,” he grumbled. Talia just tutted at him.

“I texted,” she said. Jason reached for his phone, surprised and saw she had indeed texted over an hour ago from a burner. He’d been too busy handling the aftermath of the raid to notice.

“Hello brother,” Damian said and Jason’s head whipped over to look at his first little brother where he perched on the edge of the couch. His face looked as aloof as always, but Jason could see the nervous tells in his body language. His back was straight shoulders tight, and he was too still, all the little fidgets of a small child contained into his tense body.

“Hello little prince,” he said with a smile that came out as a grimace. He looked back over at Talia. “What is going on?”

“I have brought Damian to stay with you,” Talia said as if that was a natural and sensible thing to do. “Close your mouth, it is unbecoming.”

“I’m too tired for this T. Can we do this in the morning?” He scrubbed a hand down his face trying to will his brain to work.

“It is morning,” Talia said, gesturing to the lightning sky through the window. Jason groaned. “And we do not have time. I have delayed long enough waiting for you to return.”

Jason could feel alarm trying to push through the exhaustion at that statement. Talia would not have come here, and certainly not with Damian to drop him off and immediately leave unless something was truly wrong. With a sigh he sat down on the couch next to Damian. He gestured for Talia to get on with it. Her raised eyebrow made it clear exactly what she thought of his rudeness, but she must have truly been in a hurry because she left it at that.

“My father has taken an interest in Damian. I do not believe he has Damian’s best interests at heart.” Talia explained. Jason felt his eyebrows rise in surprise at that . For Talia to admit Ra’s was wrong, and to go behind his back about his acknowledged heir it had to be bad. 

“Given the bat’s response to your return, I felt leaving Damian with him to be a risk until Damian is better adjusted to life outside the league and the expectations that come with it.” 

“And you think I’m the best option? We’re hardly on speaking terms. I don't know sh-” he glanced at Damian, “anything about his expectations.” He stumbled over the swear. He was well aware of Talia’s opinion of what she called crass language and Damian’s propensity to repeat it. Jason noted she hadn’t called Batman beloved, he was too tired to hope it was on his account.

“There is hardly anyone else with whom I could entrust my son in the face of my father’s wrath.” Something  warm and fuzzy filled Jason’s heart at the display of trust from a person who managed to be more paranoid than the Batman.

“Okay,” Jason said. He turned to Damian who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Normally the kid had a thousand things to say to Jason. “How does staying with me sound?”

“It is acceptable,” Damian said stiffly. Jason decided he could address whatever was up with his brother when he was less exhausted.

“Then it is sorted,” Talia said, moving toward the door.. “I will be out of contact for some time. I leave Damian’s safety in your hands. You have my permission to involve Batman as you deem necessary.” 

“Wait, T,” Jason called, suddenly terrified at her leaving.

“You are a good brother habibi. This is not a permanent goodbye, my father has proved himself a threat to both of my sons and I cannot let that stand.”

Before Jason could form a response Talia was gone, the door shutting behind her with a final click. Talia had just verbally declared him her son and stated she was going to war against her father for him and Damian as if they were equal in her eyes. The apartment was silent for a few minutes while Jason’s sluggish brain tried to process that revelation. Damian sat perfectly still next to him. Eventually the pain drove him to get off the couch.

“I don’t have a second bed here, I’ll fix that, but for now you can sleep on the couch or join me in the bed.” Jason decided he was going to fix it by getting a bigger apartment but he was too tired to want to think about apartment hunting.

“I am the prince and heir, I should get the bed,” Damian demanded. Jason sighed, he didn’t have the patience for a grouchy kid.

“My bullet wound isn’t going to be happy about the couch, but, as I said you’re welcome to join me,” Jason said. Damian glanced over at him sharply at the mention of his injury, his eyes, always too calculating for his age, looked him over. Jason ignored the scrutiny, he was not encouraging Damian’s overprotective streak.

Jason stood up and walked a few steps away from the couch. It was always a toss-up with Damian whether or not his desire for independence would win out over his unexpected clinginess to Jason specifically. He was more likely to accept affection when it was offered neutrally with no attention drawn to it.

“Then you should not have gotten shot,” Damian said, sniffing derisively. “But I suppose we can share.”

“Great,” Jason said. “Bedroom’s through there, bathroom on the right.” He gestured toward the small hallway leading off the main room.

“I know, mother and I swept the apartment while waiting for you to arrive.” He started toward the hallway though so Jason decided to call it a win.

He sighed, running a hand down his face once Damian had disappeared. He had no idea what he was doing, but he decided this whole mess was a problem for future Jason.

Chapter Text

Jason stared down at his little brother wondering what had happened for this to be his life. Being bullied by an eight year old was not his bingo card for his second life but here they were.

“You have spent the last three afternoons on the computer. I demand a turn,” Damian said, glaring up at Jason. 

“Damian, that was me working,” Jason said. He knew the only reason Damian hadn’t outright challenged him to combat was because the little shit knew he would lose. If this was the League Jason probably would have challenged Damian himself by now just to make the little shit shut up. But they weren’t in the League and Jason was trying to acclimate Damian to life in regular civilization. The parenting books said to lead by example so he was not going to physically fight an eight year old over a computer. But he dearly wanted to.

“This is for research. I do not see how that is any less important than your work.” Damian’s bottom lip was starting to tremble and Jason knew how much the kid hated crying or showing any weakness. Damian was as stubborn as his father. Jason ran a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We are going to the park this afternoon and you promised to bring bread for the birds. I must research to ensure we do not accidentally harm them,” Damian said.

“Fine,” Jason said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. He had a meeting with Nora about the finances later he wanted to prepare for, but it looked like Damian was ready to argue this until the meeting itself. “You can use the computer from now until we leave for the park. You can only use it for this bird research or whatever and I am in the room the whole time.

“I accept your terms,” Damian said solemnly after a moment of consideration.

The books had said he should monitor his child’s computer usage and suggested installing parental controls. Jason found the idea of attempting to use parental control software with Damian laughable, there wasn’t much left that could scar the kid any further if the kid didn’t just immediately bypass it. However, he didn’t want Damian digging into Red Hood business. He figured he could monitor the screens from the couch while he read.

Damian rushed off to his room as Jason logged onto the computer and cleared all the Red Hood information away. Damian returned to the living room with a notebook and a pack of color pens clutched to his chest. When he reached Jason at the computer his excitement dimmed slightly to apprehension as if Jason would take back his agreement.

“It’s all yours brat,” Jason said before Damian could fall too far down that emotional rabbit hole. When Jason saw Talia there were going to be words about some of her parenting decisions with Damian.

The kid eagerly climbed into the chair as soon as Jason had vacated it. It absolutely dwarfed him. His toes didn’t even reach the ground. Damian hauled himself into position in front of the keyboard by grabbing the desk and bodily pulling himself over.

Once settled Damian focused entirely on the screens and completely ignored Jason even as he wandered in and out of the living room to fetch his books.

Initially getting Damian to the park had been difficult. He had insisted he didn’t need to play like a child. Jason knew keeping a previously active child indoors for extended periods of time was a terrible idea even with their morning sparring routine. He also wanted Damian to at least see how his peers behaved even if he refused to interact with them.

Jason had made a point to walk through the park on their way back from the grocery store the previous day and Damian had been instantly enamored with the wildlife. Jason hadn’t seen him this animated in the two weeks since Talia had dropped him off. He had been delighted at Damian’s enthusiasm until he had insisted on using the computer.

When Jason’s alarm went off a few hours later he set his book aside and went over to where Damian was still absorbed in the writing on the screen. His notebook was out in front of him and filled with writing in multiple colors.

“It’s time to go to the park Little Prince,” Jason said.

“My research is not completed,” Damian protested.

“You like the park,” Jason said, trying to keep the coaxing tone out of his voice. Reminding children why they wanted to do something was supposedly helpful for getting them to do it.

“But I need to know about the birds before we go.” Damian showed no signs of moving and every sign of repeating the computer fight. Jason was absolutely not above bribery.

“How about we go to the park now, and you get two hours on the computer again to do your research tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” Damian’s head cocked to the side as he considered the offer. “I do not want to lose my place.”

“I won’t mess with your tabs and you can come back tomorrow to exactly what you have up now.” Jason prayed this would work. He had already put Nora off three times and he didn’t want to cut the park visit short in order to make the meeting.

“I will concede on those grounds,” Damian said, though he was frowning and still had not moved.

“Go put your shoes on,” Jason prompted. Damian gathered up his pens, and with a last glance at the computer, he hopped down and disappeared into his room. Jason sighed in relief.

On their walk to the park Damian prattled on about his research. Jason now knew the little brown birds as common as pigeons were called House Sparrows and weren’t actually native to  the Americas at all. Damian had moved on to discussing the harm non-native birds could cause when they finally arrived. He only paused his chatter once Jason had settled them on a bench. He passed Damian a slice of bread and took one for himself, tearing a few pieces off and tossing them to the ground.

“No, stop!” Damian cried, jumping down and grabbing Jason’s bread back off the ground. “ You cannot throw such large pieces. The pigeons can choke. They will not distinguish where the bread is of the appropriate size for them and attempt to eat it anyway.”

Jason personally thought if the pigeons were that stupid they deserved what they got, natural selection and all that. But he relinquished his bread slice to Damian and sat through a lengthy lecture on how to feed birds that morphed into their general biology. Jason was impressed with how much Damian had managed to learn in such a short time.”

“Of course I was able to find out so much information. I am very skilled at research,” Damian said when Jason mentioned it to him. He sounded as aloof as always, but Jason caught the way he sat a little taller and the tiny curl to his lips. It could be interpreted as an arrogant smirk but Jason knew it meant his little brother was pleased.

Praise was rare in the League and Jason tried to make up for it when he could. Damian did not appreciate praise if he didn’t feel he had worked hard enough for it, but when Jason got it right and Damian’s eyes crinkled at the edges and his lips twitched up it was completely worth the effort.

“Why don’t you write up the rules for feeding the birds for me and I’ll put it up on the fridge,” Jason suggested.

“What is your obsession with putting things on the fridge?” Damian asked, frowning in confusion, brow scrunched.

Jason had been trying to get Damian to give him a drawing from his sketchbook for the fridge since he’d bought the kid the damn thing. Damian in turn had staunchly refused to let Jason even see a single page. He was respecting Damian’s boundaries and had left the book alone. He knew the kid had precious few boundaries before. But Jason remembered the pride he felt the first time Bruce had put something of his on the fridge to show off to everyone. He wanted that for Damian.

“I don’t know the rules, so if they are on the fridge I will see them often so I can learn them faster,” Jason said.

Damian didn’t respond and simply turned back to the pigeons, but Jason counted it as a win. Not arguing meant Damian was at least considering the idea.

Damian refused to let Jason throw any more bread. He let his eyes wander over the park while Damian quietly fed the birds himself. Occasionally he passed over another slice when the kid requested, but otherwise it was peaceful. The air was filled with noise of passing cars and children shouting as they played on the nearby playground. Periodically a dog would bark. The rhythmic clunking of someone hammering could be heard beneath it all. Jason basked in the sounds of life around him.

“I am done for today. We may return to the apartment now,” Damian said eventually. He packed his supplies and they walked side by side out of the park headed to the new apartment. Jason had gotten it under his most stable alias after Talia had dropped Damian off.

Later that night after dinner Jason suited up for his meeting with Nora and the following patrol. As he was strapping on the last of his weapons Damian emerged from his room with two notebook pages. He shoved them at Jason.

“For the fridge so that you can learn the necessary information,” Damian said. He looked off to the side slightly and Jason could see the red in his cheeks.

“Thank you Damian. I will be sure to memorize all of it,” Jason said. They both knew Jason only needed to read through the sheets once to have it memorized. He couldn’t hold back his smile that Damian had given him something to put up, flimsy excuse or not.

“They are only the salient points,” Damian said stiffly as the magnets clicked against the metal of the fridge. “These are each for one bird. I will need to add more as I identify and research more animals.”

“Of course,” Jason said, grinning broadly with his back turned where Damian couldn’t see. “I’ll put every one up.”

When Jason turned around Damian nodded seriously in response. Jason stepped back to admire the first fridge decoration. Each page was titled in bold marker at the top, one said ‘Pigeons’ the other ‘House Sparrows’. Each sheet was covered in Damian’s neat handwriting in a variety of different colors of pen.

“Thank you Damian,” Jason said, bumping his hip against Damian’s shoulder. “I need to leave for Red Hood work now though.”

“I do not understand why you will not permit me to join you,”Damian said pouting petulantly. “I have the training to be useful.”

“I know you are capable, but your mother left you with me to keep you safe, that is much harder with random thugs on the street trying to hurt or kill you.”

“I trust you are capable enough to protect me and you would be safer if someone was there to guard your back.”

“The answer is still no,” Jason said. His chest warmed at his little brother’s statement of affection. “I will see you in the morning. Be in bed by nine, and stay in the apartment. You have the panic button to call me?”

“Yes, I am not an imbecile, it’s hardly your first patrol,” Damian said with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I just like checking,” Jason reassured, he didn’t want Damian to think he was questioning his intelligence.

“Well, there is no need.”

“Got it, got it,”Jason said, grinning at his little brother’s adorable affronted expression. Then he turned and climbed out the window

_*_

Tim watched Dick get ready for patrol from where he was sitting on the couch. He knew it was rude and unproductive but he still found himself glaring. Dick had made it clear early on that there would be no patrolling as Robin on school nights, and that if he wanted to do case work all his homework had to be complete first.

Dick had actually followed through on checking the homework status. He had even tried to implement a bedtime, though that endeavor had thankfully failed. It wasn’t like he was even around most evenings to enforce it.

Tim had never had a bedtime before and he didn’t need one now. His parents hadn’t been around enough and Bruce respected Tim’s ability to take care of himself. He was there if Tim needed something and always ready to listen if he had something he wanted to talk about, but he didn’t monitor Tim’s schedule. Tim didn’t know how long Dick intended to try and keep him here but he already wanted to go back. Dick was a great brother but he was not Tim’s parent.

Tim had initially left because he wanted to be with Jason, his Robin. In the two weeks since Jason had walked out of the penthouse he hadn’t been back once. But Tim had a plan to fix that. If Jason wouldn’t come to them, he’d go to Jason.

Tim had spent his available “casework” time figuring out where Jason was currently staying. By working out and tracking his aliases he had narrowed the apartment selection down to a ranked list of most to least likely.

“I’m heading out baby bird,” Dick said from the door. “I’ll see you in the morning, don’t stay up too late.”

“Whatever,” Tim said. He looked back down at his computer so he didn’t have to see Dick’s sad expression, it never failed to evoke feelings of kicking a puppy.

Once Dick had left, Tim waited thirty minutes, and then made himself wait another thirty just to be sure Nightwing was well and truly on patrol before standing up from the couch.

He ignored the jitters under his skin and calmly walked into his room. Then he changed into dark clothes perfect for rooftop hopping. Once dressed, he clipped his collapsible bow staff to his belt and then went back to his computer.

He activated the sneaking out protocols on the penthouse security, another thing he had been spending his casework time creating. When activated, the protocols would hide Tim’s entrance and exit from the alerts and logs without affecting the security system’s functionality. The apartment would still be protected, but Dick would never know Tim had left. He just needed to make it back before Nightwing’s patrol ended.

Ten minutes later Tim was bounding across rooftops toward Crime Alley. He reveled in the freedom of flying over alleys and streets, throwing a few Robin flips in just because he could. It didn’t take long until he was on the roof opposite Jason’s most likely apartment.

Tim knew there was a chance Jason was out on patrol, but he could wait for the Red Hood to finish, and if he did a little research while waiting, nobody could blame him. He ignored the voice in his head that said it was snooping not research. It sounded like Steph and the memory burned.

He grappled quietly onto the fire escape and walked down to the correct window. The security was absolutely overkill, but Tim carefully disabled each part. It took twice as long as he had expected it to, but the extra security suggested this was Jason’s primary residence. The window slid up silently and Tim slipped in.

He wasn’t even fully through the window when he was flipped to the floor on his back, a knife at his throat.

“Who are you,” a young voice demanded and Tim realized the person straddling his waist wasn’t kneeling, but standing, and instead of a knife, the child was holding a katana. Part of Tim wondered where the kid had acquired a live katana correctly proportioned for his tiny body.

“What the hell?” Tim said eloquently.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” the child said, pushing the katana in slightly harder.

“Uhh, I’m Tim?” It came out as more of a question than a statement. The kid’s eyes narrowed, the blade didn’t move, rock steady against his jugular.

“You are the replacement Robin,” Damian said after a moment of scrutiny, but the sword was lowered. “Stand, by right of combat I shall demonstrate I am the superior son of Batman.”

Tim’s mind blanked. He decided to ignore anything except that this tiny kid looked like he was ready to fight to the death and armed. Tim was absolutely not being murdered by a preschooler. Tactically, he reasoned he had the advantage in grappling.

“Yeah, no thanks,” Tim said, and took the opportunity to twist and knock the kid’s legs out from under him. The kid collapsed down on top of him. They grappled, the katana quickly abandoned for an endless supply of shorter knives. Every time Tim managed to wrest one away from the kid he pulled another one from his person or the surrounding furniture. The kid was scary good for a five year old.

They crashed around the room, knocking into various pieces of furniture. Tim definitely felt the coffee table collapse under his shoulder when he toppled onto it at one point. With a particularly well executed throw by Damian, Tim nearly went careening into a very fancy computer set-up but Damian pulled him back at the last moment.

They both froze, staring at each other, breathing hard. Eventually the kid stood up and backed away. Tim stood as well and took several healthy steps away from both the kid and the computer. 

“You are a worthy opponent,” The child said solemnly once they had both caught their breath. “I request a rematch in a more suitable venue.” What kid used words like ‘suitable’ and ‘venue’. Where the hell was this kid from?

“Maybe we should start again,” Tim said, falling back on politeness in the face of the sheer weirdness. “Hello, I’m Tim, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry for startling you, I’m looking for Jason.” Tim held his hand out formally for a handshake, he could feel his shoulder’s square in the way his father had taught him so long ago.

The kid only glared at a moment, then bent down and retrieved his katana. Tim tensed for another fight, but then the kid dug a sheath out from the remains of a side table and slid the blade back into it.

“I am Damian, Jason’s brother.”

Tim stared at the kid as his brain blue screened. He knew the kid had mentioned being Jason’s brother earlier but there had been more pressing issues since.

“How?” he heard himself ask as his hand lowered to his side and his shoulders hunched back to normal.

“Jason might not be of my blood but he is still my brother,” Damian said. Tim could hear the defensiveness in the kid’s tone.

The tiny child then proceeded to launch into a tale of exactly how Damian, Al Ghul apparently, was Jason’s brother. He was happy to explain how much Jason had ‘proved he cared’ through increasingly specific stories with almost no prompting from Tim. Tim was ecstatic to hear about where his Robin had been for the last four years.

_*_

Dick flipped over another empty alley trying to get his mind off Tim. His little brother had made it clear he didn’t want to stay with Dick and resented him for taking him away from Bruce. He also resented Dick’s attempts at trying to parent him. The shift from being Tim’s sibling to his guardian was something they were both struggling with. It didn’t help that Tim still saw Bruce as his only parent and considered everything right now temporary.

He knew Tim’s relationship with Bruce might have started out distant but over time and circumstance Bruce had grown into a true father for Tim. And Bruce was a good dad.

Bruce had encouraged Dick’s interests outside the mask and been involved in his civilian life. They had their rough patches, but over time declarations had shifted to suggestions and fights to discussions. Dick and Bruce had come to understand each other and their points of view and through their struggles Bruce had grown as a parent. Dick hadn’t thought the occasional emotional outburst mattered in the greater scope. Not until Jason’s reaction in the cave and declaration in the car.

He had been thinking over what he wanted from Bruce to prove he was comfortable letting Tim return and was coming up with a blank. Somehow he was surprised he would ever accept something from Bruce to let him parent another child, and simultaneously part of him expected Tim would eventually return.

Dick had been sending updates as agreed and had taken Bruce up on asking for advice a few times. So far Bruce had respected the boundaries Dick had set, and his advice had been genuinely helpful.

A few hours into patrol Dick decided he was too in his head, and more likely to get hurt than accomplish anything. Not that there was anything for him to even get involved in.

When Dick had made the trek back to the penthouse the elevator doors opened on an empty living room. Dick knew something was wrong. Tim would never have gone to bed this early. Still in his Nightwing suit he knocked on Tim’s door and opened it when he got no response.

Tim had complained extensively about going to bed at a reasonable time for a healthy teen. That was the first thing he had asked Bruce about. Bruce had advised Dick to pick his battles and Dick had abandoned trying to enforce a bedtime. Which was why when Tim’s room was empty Dick felt his stomach fall out below him.

He searched the Penthouse increasingly frantically, calling Tim’s name. After he’d checked every room at least three times, he called Tim only to find his phone on his bed next to his panic button. Then he called Bruce.

“Dick, chum, what’s wrong?” Bruce asked. Dick realized abruptly that Batman was probably still out patrolling.

“I can’t find Tim.” Dick could hear the panic in his voice. “He was here when I left for patrol two hours ago, but he’s not here now. The security system doesn’t show anybody leaving or entering except me and there’s no sign of a struggle.”

“Alright,” Bruce said. “I need you to breathe for me.” Dick realized how short his breaths had become and forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Once he was breathing normally Bruce continued, “Did you confirm if his Robin uniform is still there?”

Dick felt like an idiot for not checking that first, and all but flew to the cabinet where his Tim’s uniform and Robin supplies were stored. He fought through the security, cursing how long it took to get through all the layers. Tim had added extra features to ‘test out new concepts’.

The compartment eventually opened to reveal Tim’s suit and all his weapons and gadgets exactly as they should be except for his preferred collapsible staff.

“It’s all here except his bo,” Dick told Bruce. “Did he go to the manor?” He suddenly wondered if Tim had just had enough and decided to leave. The cave had its own Robin suit and supplies.

“I will confirm,” Bruce said, his voice all Batman. Then his end of the call went silent, presumably as he switched coms to speak to Alfred.

There was a pause while Dick stared at the Robin uniform like it could somehow provide the answers he needed. Tim was his responsibility, how could he have let this happen.

“Agent A says he has not shown up at the manor. If that changes I will notify you.” Bruce’s calm voice did nothing to sooth Dick’s rapidly beating heart or too fast breaths. Distantly Dick recognized it as Batman’s victim voice.

“Does he have a tracker?”

“Not on him. His panic button is still here.”

“I will start looking for him, why don’t you see if you can find any clues about where he might have gone,” Bruce said.

“Okay. Thank you,” Dick said “For helping.”

“We will find him,” Bruce reassured. Dick tried not to think about Jason or Stephanie. Robin’s current or ex did not have a good track record with disappearing on their own. He’d just gotten one brother back, he couldn’t lose his other one.

Once he had hung up with Bruce, Dick took another breath. If Tim was missing it wouldn’t hurt to have more people looking and Jason would kill him if he found out he had been left out of the loop. Plus he had resources neither Bruce or Dick had through his gang. Jason had said he would be there if Dick asked, but he hadn’t felt anything had been important enough yet. This felt important enough. He dialed his brother’s number and waited as it rang.

_*_

Jason was sitting with Nora going over the accounting. Nora wasn’t an official lieutenant because she had viciously turned the suggestion down, but she still handled all the money, both cash and banking accounts. Jason recognized talent when he saw it and he wasn’t going to pass her over for hating, as she put it, ‘boring meetings with egotistical assholes that could have been emails anyway’.

Only half of his mind was on the spreadsheets in front of him though. Tom had given his nightly rundown and let him know the whispers about Jason’s bat affiliations were still circulating. The reasons he’d provided to the lieutenants were apparently not enough. Tom felt he should address the gang as a whole directly. Jason knew he was right and had added it to his mental to-do list that only seemed to be growing longer since Nightwing’s rescue and Damian’s arrival in his life.

Jason had found himself recently relying on Tom to keep him updated on the internal rumor mill. He also added officially unofficially promoting Tom to internal spymaster to the ever growing list.

Nora was walking him through the monthly trend sheet when Jason’s phone rang with the ringtone he’s set specifically for Dick. In the two weeks since he’d set the ringtone it hadn't gone off once. Jason felt his heart stutter in his chest and his breath hitched.

“I need to take this,” Jason said to Nora, then clicked to send the phone to helmet audio only. “What’s up?” Jason tried for casual, but could tell he hadn’t managed to keep all of the panic out of his voice. Dick wouldn't call for the first time during patrol hours if it wasn’t an emergency.

“I can’t find Tim,” Dick said, his voice frantic. “ I called Bruce, and he hasn’t seen him either.” Dick kept going but Jason took a moment to calm down the spike of rage and hurt he felt at Dick calling Batman first. Jason had promised to help, whenever Dick needed.

“I haven’t seen him,” Jason said into Dick’s panicking once he had taken a few breaths. “I don’t have the equipment here to look. Meet me at this address.” He rattled off his current apartment, it had the best computer set-up. He needed the highest quality equipment available, and it might not be the batcomputer, but it was damn close.

Dick made an acknowledging noise and hung up. Jason made his excuses to Nora and raced home. He wasn’t going to let anyone hurt his little brother. He would kill anyone who tried, bird sensibilities be damned. No more dead Robins.

When Jason finally made it to his apartment, he threw open his door and froze at the tableau in front of him.

The apartment was wrecked. Furniture shattered, pieces scattered across the floor. Several knives were embedded in the walls between holes of varying sizes. The coffee table was broken clean in half with three crooked legs splayed out around it. Several of Jason’s previously hidden emergency weapons were piled on top. 

Jason’s brain ran through the list of enemies and their attack styles as he cataloged each bit of damage. The only weapons were his and Damian’s which suggested an unarmed attacker or someone cleaning up after themselves. Clearing evidence suggested the League but then why just pile the extra weapons instead of taking them too. He didn’t know what enemies Tim might have made recently to factor them in and he did not like the unknown.

Then his eyes landed on the couch beyond the ex-table and arsenal. Damian was sitting on it properly, feet on the floor, but his torso turned toward Tim. And next to him Tim was sitting cross legged sideways on the couch entirely facing Damian. They were both looking at him, eyes wide, Jason was reminded of deer staring into the headlights of an oncoming car. Jason could see Damian’s hand had drifted to a hidden knife.

“Jason,” Tim said, expression shifting into a genuine grin. Damian’s hand came away from his knife. Jason stood there and stared, jaw hanging open. Eventually his brain caught up to reality. He very carefully shut the door without slamming it.

“What the fuck?” he managed, then the door slammed open into his back knocking him forward. He stumbled, reaching for a weapon as he turned and found Dick framed by the doorway, chest heaving. Jason could tell the moment he spotted Time because his breaths stopped completely.

“I found Tim,” Jason said, gesturing weakly to the couch. Dick stared for another moment, looking between the boys on the couch. Then he turned to Jason.

“There’s two of them,” Dick said. Abruptly Jason realized he’d never told Dick about Damian.

“Come in and shut the door Dickhead,” Jason said. His mind was still spinning but he didn’t need his neighbors hearing or seeing anything. He was distantly relieved Dick hadn’t shown up as Nightwing.

Jason looked back at Tim and Damian. Tim’s smile had faltered with Dick’s entrace. Damian’s eyes were narrowed at Dick in suspicion and he had his hand back on his knife. Dick had the courtesy to shut the door quietly.

“Jason, who is this rude man,” Damian asked, managing to make ‘man’ sound like a deep insult. Jason was pleased he hadn’t used a more derogatory word. They’d been working on appropriate vocabulary.

“This is Dick, you know about him, he’s our older brother,” Jason said. Damian’s eyes narrowed and Jason saw the impending violence. “Don’t attack him,” he said tiredly, suddenly too exhausted for this.

He realized he was the only one in his gear, “I’m gonna go change,” he said and then walked into his bedroom leaving his brothers awkwardly in the living room. Tim and Damiann had done so much damage already he doubted there was much else left the three of them could break anyway. Right before he shut his bedroom door he heard Dick say “brother?”

Chapter Text

Dick watched Jason walk out of the room, his heart still beating a mile a minute. He looked at the two boys on the couch, relieved to see that despite the damage surrounding them they both seemed unharmed.

Tim had shifted to sit face forward on the couch, his hands folded in his lap. The other boy was watching Dick quietly, his nose scrunched in perfect match to Jason’s when he was concentrating on a particularly confusing problem.

“Are you hurt?” Dick asked the boys.

“We’re fine,” Tim said, rolling his eyes. The other boy clicked his tongue, seemingly offended at the very idea.

“As if this replacement could ever cause me harm.”

“Right,” Dick said, glancing at Tim for his reaction to being called a replacement, but there was thankfully no visible reaction. He let the feeling of relief wash through him. Tim was safe, and so was the surprise child. As the adrenaline faded with that knowledge he felt exhaustion tug at his limbs.

Trying to find a working chair in the ruins of the apartment sounded like far too much effort. Instead he just sat on the floor in front of the couch where he had been standing. The apartment fell into silence. Dick watched the kid next to Tim trying to process the knowledge they apparently have a new brother.

The silence stretched on until Jason emerged from his room dressed comfortable in a t-shirt and sweatpants. He glanced at the three of them and then pulled the chair over from in front of his suspiciously untouched computer desk.

“Are you going to properly introduce me?” The kid asked. The formal diction and tone from what appeared to be a seven year old made a part of Dick uncomfortable and another part sit up in alarm.

“Sure,” Jason said with a sigh. “This is Damian, he’s Talia and Bruce’s kid.”

“He’s B’s” Dick asked, “Where’s he been this whole time? Does Bruce know where he is?”

“He’s been with his mother, and no, Bruce doesn’t know he exists.”

“Wait, you’re Talia’s kid?” Tim asked.

“Of course,” the kid- Damian said. “I told you I was a prince, what did you think that meant.”

“I didn’t think you meant it literally!”

Dick froze as his brain caught up with the implications of the child being both Bruce’s and Talia’s.

“Biologically?” He asked weakly over Tim and Damian’s bickering.

“Of course,” Damian said. “That is what parent means.”

Dick felt his face do something odd as his brain filled in the knowledge that Talia and Bruce had sex. He had known in theory but he’d never been forced to face the concrete evidence in the form of a child young enough to prove they had sex while Dick was Robin.
And by his apparent age they’d definitely conceived this child while he was Robin.

He could feel the others watching him and closed his eyes to block out the thoughts. He’d never be able to wipe the knowledge from his mind, but he could put it in a box and shove it deep into the back of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about it ever again. Hopefully.

Dick looked over his new little brother, thoughts firmly buried. The kid was sitting stiffly and he noted how he held his shoulders squared off more like a soldier than an elementary schooler. Before he could process any implications Jason started talking.

“Do either of you want to tell me why my apartment looks like a hurricane hit it?”

“I heard Drake at the window and decided to defend against the intruder,” Damian said.

“Damian, we’ve been over this, what are you supposed to do if you hear someone at the door or window and I’m not home?” Jason asked, his voice had the weariness of repetition and his mouth was pulled tight in frustration.

“Activate my emergency button and hide,” Damian said, looking down at his hands.

“I know you can defend yourself, but I want you to be safe,” Jason said. “I’m going to cut your computer time in half for not listening, extended for a week for starting a fight with your brother.”

“And?” Damian asked. Dick looked between the two, confused. Jason’s face dropped and his shoulders slumped slightly at Damian’s question.

“That’s it Damian. Nothing else. I told you punishment’s are different outside the League. They are not supposed to be physically painful or restrict the things you need to live like food and water.”

Dick remembered saying the kid had grown up with his mother. Jason’s exhausted explanation threw that knowledge into a whole new light. The kid being with Talia meant he’d also been with the League of Assassins. A wave of horror hit him as his brain ran through the implications. The precise diction and stiff posture suddenly told a very different story.

“Understood,” Damian said, though it didn’t sound very convincing to Dick.

“Tim,” Jason prompted into the following silence.

“What?” Tim asked, looking away from Damian and over to Jason in confusion.

“Want to tell us why you came here without telling anyone? And broke in instead of using the door.”

“You haven’t visited,” Tim said. There was a moment of stunned silence and then Jason spoke again.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.” His voice was stilted. “Is there a reason that required breaking in through the window instead of using, once again, my perfectly functional door?” Jason asked, clearly determined to keep the conversation on track.

“Um, I didn’t really think about it?” Tim said, looking down, his face slowly turning a deep shade of red.

“I would have let you see Jason if you asked, why didn’t you just let me know? You didn’t need to run away to visit him,” Dick said. He didn’t know where he’d gone so wrong that Tim felt like he couldn’t ask for anything.

“You say no to everything, and have a thousand rules, why would you say yes to this?” Tim’s voice grew in volume with each word, by the end he was shouting, a choked noise causing him to pause for breath. “You aren’t my parent, Dick!” Tim surged to standing, looking down at Dick, and he could see the way Tim blinked rapidly in an attempt to stop tears from leaking from his eyes.

Dick stared up at him completely at a loss of what to say to make this better. He hadn’t meant to hurt Tim but clearly he had completely fucked this up somewhere.

“Right, okay,” Jason said, breaking the tension. “If Dick and I leave, can you two manage not to kill each other?”

“We succeeded just fine prior to your arrival. Your presence is clearly unnecessary for our interactions to remain peaceful,” Damian said. Jason eyed the remains of his apartment dubiously for a moment before sighing and running a hand down his face.

“Dick?” He asked, standing and turning slightly toward the hallway that led deeper into the apartment. Dick smoothly stood and followed Jason to a room at the end of the hallway and shut the door.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and there was a bed neatly made in the corner. The shelves were only half full, but Dick recognized some of the titles as Jason’s favorites before his death, though many of them he didn’t know at all.

With a sigh Jason sat down on his bead and, after a moment, Dick joined him. They sat in silence for a moment shoulder to shoulder. Dick’s mind spun with the roller coaster of emotions that had been the last hour and the sinking feeling that he had failed Tim.

_*_

Jason sat next to his brother on the bed. He had seen the way Dick froze up at Tim’s shouting. Dick’s face had gone blank in the way Jason remembered from after the bar, when Dick had woken up hungover in his apartment. He didn’t know how to fix it, but he knew staying in the other room with Tim and Damian was only going to make it worse.

Dick’s weight was warm against Jason’s shoulder, and he felt Dick slowly lean into him more. The silence stretched as Jason waited for his brother to break it. As the silence stretched Jason worried his brother was spiraling further.

“How are you holding up?” he eventually asked, hoping the question would pull Dick out of his thoughts enough to answer and give Jason some idea of what was going on in his head.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with Tim,” Dick said, his voice soft. He was still looking straight ahead, his eyes unfocused. “He doesn’t even want to be with me, he wants to go back to Bruce. He doesn’t listen to anything I say. I’m just trying to keep him safe. I didn’t even know he wanted to see you.”

“It’s hard going from a brother to a parent.” Jason said. “Damian’s at least used to following rules and orders from people he respects. But trying to enforce what he needs over what he wants is difficult. I’m trying to acclimate him to life outside the league and I just keep seeing all the ways I don’t know how to live as a civilian anymore either.”

Dick reached up and rubbed both of his hands over his face. Jason suddenly felt bad for dumping his worries onto Dick, he was supposed to be comforting him, not making it worse.

“It sucks,” Dick said after a moment. “I asked B for advice and it helped some, but clearly not enough I just-” Dick froze. Jason’s whole body tensed and pulled away, he felt as if a pit had opened in his stomach with the realization dick had asked Bruce for advice.

“You went to Bruce?” He asked weakly, but Dick wasn’t paying attention to him.

“Shit!” he nearly shouted, Jason winced at the volume so close to his ear. “I forgot to let him know I found Tim. He’s probably panicking and still looking for him.” Dick shifted slightly farther down the bed to pull out his phone. Jason listened to the quiet ringing numbly, and after a moment heard Batman’s deep voice say something through the tiny speaker.

His mind was spinning with the knowledge that Dick had gone to Bruce first not only tonight but with help parenting Tim. He’d thought they had an agreement when he’d left the penthouse that Dick could call him for anything. When had that changed? Had it all been a lie?

“Jason, Little Wing,!” Jason felt Dick’s hand on his shoulder and looked over to see Dick’s concerned face looking back. The phone was nowhere to be seen. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

Jason shrugged Dick’s hand off and turned to face him, the familiar feeling of anger beginning to boil in the hole Dick had just ripped in his chest.

“You went to Bruce,” Jason spat. Clearly Dick didn’t trust him, all Jason wanted was to hurt him back. “I told you I would be there if you asked, but you never texted, you just went right back to Batman.”

“Woah, what?” Dick said. He leaned back away from Jason. His eyes raised in surprise before pulling back together as he frowned. Jason felt a vicious satisfaction, he opened his mouth to continue but Dick cut him off.

“You said you’d come back,” Dick said, the hurt in his voice a match for the feeling in Jason’s own guts. The strength of Dick’s emotion made Jason pause, the anger freezing in his lungs. It was enough to get him to listen to Dick’s words.

“You said you’d come back,” Dick said softer. “I thought you needed space. I didn’t want to push.”

“So you went to Bruce?” Jason forced through the invisible constriction around his throat.

“We’ve been speaking,” Dick said, holding up a hand to stop Jason from responding. “Please let me finish, then you can be as mad as you want.”

“Okay,” Jason said, just managing to keep his voice from trembling. He felt like an asshole for not reaching out to Dick and Tim, the emotion somehow piling onto the hurt of Dick reaching out to Bruce first and the two churned together into a mess in his chest.

“I spoke to him when I went to pick up some stuff from the manor. He was reasonable, didn’t pressure me and Time to return,” Dick said. “I know he lashes out when he’s emotional,” he continued in a rush. “I’m not okay with what he did and I’m not willing to let Tim go back right now. But he’s a good dad most of the time.”

“I know,” Jason said softly, surprising himself with the response. Bruce had been a good parent before, and somehow that made everything so much worse.

“I’ve been giving him daily updates, and he’s been respecting the rules I set. I just am so lost for what to do with Tim and I wanted advice.” Dick was looking down at the bed between them, hands twisting into the bed covers.

Jason’s chest still felt hollow and full all at once, but without the anger he could understand Dick’s situation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back,” Jason offered into the silence between them.

“It’s fine,” Dick said. “You had Damian and I know Red Hood has been consolidating the power vacuum left in the wake of Black Mask’s death.”

“That’s not,” Jason started then paused. It was exactly why he’d been distant. He had hurt Dick enough he didn’t want to lie to him either. He thought about Tim and Damian in the other room and how hard it was to suddenly be responsible for a kid.

“What if we share,” he said before he’d even formed the thought.

“What?” Dick’s nose scrunched in confusion.

“What if we share the kids,” Jason repeated. “Obviously Damian can’t go to the penthouse because of Bruce finding out, but Tim can come here. And we can trade off watching them when one of us is busy or just needs a break.”

“You’re okay with me talking to Bruce?”

“No, I’m absolutely pissed you went to him first,” Jason felt the anger flare again at the reminder and pushed it back down. “But I get it. It’s just that we’re both struggling, so maybe if we work together it will be slightly easier. Plus Tim clearly wants to spend more time with me based on tonight's behavior. And Damian needs more socialization beyond a Crime Lord.”

Dick’s confusion softened into a smile, and Jason felt his face heat up as he realized he’d been rambling. 

“Sharing them sounds great. I’m still going to give B updates, but I’ll keep Damian out of it for now. Though I do think we need to have a discussion about it later. He deserves to know he has another child,” Dick said.

Something in Jason’s chest eased, the knowledge he wouldn’t be alone in handling Damian lifted a weight he hadn’t registered. Even if it came with an extra teenager, knowing he wasn’t alone was a relief. He saw Dick’s wrists and fingers twitch up and then back down. He was thrown back to when he was new to the manor and the two of them were sitting on the couch in the library. Dick had been so cautious with Jason back then following their disastrous first meeting, so worried anything he did would drive Jason away from him.

“You can hug me if you really need to Dickface,” Jason said with a sigh, not quite managing to keep the relief he was feeling out of his voice.

Jason was suddenly enveloped in his brother’s arms, Dick practically in his lap. His body instinctively tensed at the close contact and it took concentration to slowly force his muscles to relax. After a minute he cautiously lifted his own arms up and returned the hug. Dick’s body was warm where they were leaning against each other and the last of the tension in his chest eased. He rested his head against Dick’s where it had settled on his shoulder and let the moment linger.

_*_

Tim slowly sat back down after Dick rose and followed Jason out of the room. His chest felt tight, and he focused on breathing slowly. He settled his hands on his lap, feet properly flat on the ground. His hands burned with the need to move but he kept them carefully still. He had embarrassed himself enough for one day.

Dick and Jason were clearly close despite all the time and Jason’s death sitting between them. He knew he shouldn’t be so difficult but sometimes all the restrictions were so frustrating. Damian was right, he was just a replacement for Jason and now Jason was back. He rubbed the tears out of his eyes refusing to let them fall.

Cautiously he glanced over at Damian next to him on the couch. He was sitting cross legged looking at his own hands playing with a small knife. The silence stretched awkwardly between them. The hum of the refrigerator and the sounds of Gotham filtering through the windows the only noises in the apartment. 

In an attempt to regain the easy comfort of their earlier conversation, and curious to hear more about Jason’s time away from Gotham, Tim prompted Damian into continuing the story of his first mission with Jason.

“How did the mission end?” He asked.

“What are you referring to?” Damian asked, stiffly turning to look at Tim.

“You were telling me how Jason took a sword to his stomach for you and you were waiting for rescue.”

“Ah,” Damian said. “The sword stabbed him in his abdomen, not his stomach or he would not have survived. We were waiting for five hours for extraction before they found us, despite the GPS locator we had working just fine.” Tim could hear the traces of frustration leaking through Damian’s voice with the memory. “By the time we got back to base, Mother was livid.” The phrase ‘mother was livid’ took on a totally different meaning now that Tim knew Damian’s mother was Talia Al-Ghul.

“It took three weeks before the doctors would allow him to do anything but standing and walking short distances. Mother tasked me with staying with him in between my lessons.” As he talked Damian’s posture relaxed, caught up in the story. “I asked him why he would risk his life for another’s when he had nothing to gain. It is not the League way. He told me it was his job as my older brother. We have been brothers ever since.” Damian said solemnly, like being brothers was the most sacred relationship.

Tim somehow doubted Jason would see that story in the same light. Tim’s Robin would have taken that blow for any kid, and as much as Jason had changed, Tim didn’t think that part of his personality had. Red Hood was well known for protecting kids. 

Given that Jason had considered Tim a brother nearly on sight he bet that Jason had thought of Damian as his brother long before that mission had even started. He could understand that spending fire hours waiting with someone who was dying because they had chosen to save your life could be a strong bonding experience even for someone as prickly as Damian seemed to be.

Tim wasn’t sure how to respond to the rest of the story, but he was burning to know what down time looked like in the League of Assassins. If he also found out what Jason’s hobbies were, that would be a plus. He hadn’t gotten his chance to snoop through the apartment after all. 

“What did you do with Jason when he was recovering?” Tim asked.

“He had also broken several fingers and had trouble holding things, so he requested I read a book aloud to him,” Damian said. 

“What book,” Tim asked when Damian didn’t elaborate.

“It was called ‘The Hobbit’. It was very boring except for the bits when Bilbo spoke to the dragon. The conversations between them were fascinating.” Damian’s face lit up, Tim could even see a small smile at the edges of his lips. Tim couldn’t see the appeal personally, he’d barely made it ten pages in, but he made a note apparently Jason like Tolkien.

“The writer’s artwork was far more interesting,” Damian continued, and then launched into a detailed description of Tolkien’s art style and art in general that got increasingly technical as Tim didn’t interrupt.

“Watercolors are the superior art medium to highlight ink drawings.” Damian paused and looked at Tim expectantly. Tim had been lost several minutes ago, but he didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings.

“I don’t know much about art,” he admitted and saw Damian’s face begin to close off. Frantically he tried to think of any art he had been remotely interested in. “My skateboard has an airbrush picture on the bottom,” he tried, but Damian didn’t react. “I like the vibrant colors.” He managed to keep the question out of his voice, trying to keep the conversation alive.

Damian’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Skateboards have art on them?”

“Yeah!” Tim said, surprised Damian knew what a skateboard was but not that they were decorated. “They have art on the bottom that can be seen when you do tricks. Damian nodded seriously, and Tim congratulated himself for managing to recapture his interest.

“What is an airbrush?”

Tim opened his mouth to answer and then closed it when he realized he didn’t know. He reached for his phone to look it up before remembering he’d left it at the penthouse. He was blessedly saved from answering by Dick and Jason returning.

Tim stiffened the embarrassment at his previous outburst returning in full force. He glanced between the two, trying to gauge their mood. They both looked relaxed, standing close together nearly touching shoulders.

“We have come to a decision,” Jason said. Tim fought to keep his expression blank as his anxiety spiked. He had no idea what Dick and Jason could have been discussing that would lead to a declaration like this.

“Tim and Dick will be splitting time between here and the penthouse. The two of us,” Jason paused and gestured between himself and Dick, “we’ll be co-olderbrothering.”

Tim stared at Jason’s broad grin so much like his Robin grin transposed onto his older face. Tim’s fingers itched for his camera in the back of his mind as he tried to process what had been said and only got errors. A glance at Damian showed he looked just as confused.

Next to Jason Dick sighed looking over at his resurrected brother, a small smile lifted his lips. Tim realized it was the first real smile he had seen Dick make since Bludhaven had gone up in green flames.

“What this idiot is trying to say,” Dick said, turning back to Tim and Damian, “is that instead of Tim and I spending all our time at the penthouse separate from Jay and you, Damian, Tim and I will be coming over more frequently. And Jason and I will sometimes trade off responsibilities.”

“Oh,” Tim said as the explanation filtered into his brain. “So like an actual family,” he said without thinking, they weren’t really a family. Bruce was what tied them together and he wasn’t even included. Both Dick and Jason froze for a moment and glanced at each other. Then Dick melted and a true broad smile broke across his face.

“Exactly, Baby Bird,” he said.

“Yeah, whatever you wanna call it,” Jason said, looking distinctly awkward and vaguely uncomfortable.

“Want to,” Damian said from next to him on the couch. Tim looked over, Damian was sitting ramrod straight, lips in a tiny pout. “It is not ‘wanna’ it is ‘want to’. Proper grammar is important.”

Tim had no idea why that was the part of the conversation Damian was focused on. Out of the corner of his eye Tim saw Jason relax slightly and smile at Damian.

“You’re right it is ‘want to’” he said. “Tim and Dick probably need to head home now though. I know Tim at least has school in the morning. And it’s past your bedtime Little Prince. We can talk about this more in the morning, just the two of us.” After a moment of consideration Damain nodded once, though he did not look any happier.

“Right then,” Dick said. “Come on Tim, Jason’s right, we should head back to the penthouse. But we’ll come by tomorrow night.”

Tim stood up and started following Dick to the front door. As they walked down the many flights of stairs he registered that Dick hadn’t called the penthouse home.

Chapter Text

“I think that’s everything we can do today,” Nora said, packing up the laptop sitting between her and Jason on the folding table that served as Jason’s desk. “I’ll make the corrections we discussed and finalize the files.”

“Thank you,” Jason said. “I’ll investigate the discrepancies on my end. Don’t worry too much about them.” He didn’t bother telling her to keep silent about the problem. Nora had been running the books since the first few months and she had never once spoken about their contents to anyone without his direct permission.

Nora smiled at him as she stood up, tucking a strand of shoulder length grey hair behind her ear.

“See you next month.” She shut the door soundly behind her.

With a sigh Jason took off his helmet and buried his face in his hands, resting his elbows on the desk. For just a moment he let himself feel the exhaustion tugging at his body and mind. He could feel it sunk into his bones, slowing his movements and thoughts. All he wanted was a nap but there was no time.

Nora had found some discrepancies in her monthly review and they had spent half the night looking through the spreadsheet for the problem only to turn up jack shit. Which meant the problem was external and now Jason had to figure out who was hiding money and why and how to deal with it.

His mind kept straying to Tim and Damian alone at his apartment. The friendliness of the first night had apparently been a fluke and the two had been at each other’s throats near constantly every meeting since, sometimes literally. He and Dick had tried sparring all four of them together this morning, and it had somehow managed to make the situation worse. The only upside was that Damian had watched Dick repeatedly put Jason on the ground and earned instant respect. He had also decided he wanted to learn Dick’s fighting style and asked non-stop when he could start lessons.

A knock on the door pulled Jason back into the present and he shoved the exhaustion back down, sitting up and hiding all traces from his body language and expression even as he reached for his helmet.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Tom,” Came the muffled reply in Tom’s distinct accent.

“Come in,” He called. Relieved he wouldn’t need to put the helmet back on.

“Boss,” Tim said casually as he walked in. He paused after shutting the door and looked Jason up and down. “You look like shit.”

“Is it that obvious?” Jason asked. That wouldn’t be good. He was still on shaky ground about Nightwing’s rescue and the continuing fight to consolidate the power vacuum left in Black Mask’s wake.

“Not when you’re wearing the helmet,” Tim said and Jason felt the relief like a physical thing. “But those eye bags are getting quite dark.”

“Good thing I don’t take it off much then,” Jason said.

“Hiding it does not make you need rest any less.” The disappointment in his voice was palpable and Jason felt his face heat in embarrassment. He had no idea when he had started respecting Tom’s opinion so much.

“Things are just busy right now, once we finish the Black Mask mess it will get better,” Jason said though he knew that was unlikely. There was always something else. Tom raised his eyebrows in a way that reminded Jason painfully of Alfred. Thankfully he didn’t call Jason out on his bullshit verbally this time.

“I’m here with that weekly report you wanted, boss,” he said. Jason was relieved at the topic change.

He took a moment to remember what kind of report he had asked for. He refused to think about the fact that he wouldn’t be having this trouble if he had managed more than eight hours of sleep over the last three days. He had finally gotten around to promoting Tom to internal spymaster. Tom had disagreed on the title but taken the raise and additional duties without further complaint. Part of those duties was a weekly report on morale and any possible spies.

“Right,” Jason said, gesturing at the chair next him that Nora had recently vacated.  “Lay it on me.”

“The biggest issue to moral right now is the lack of information about the competition. It feels like we’re running blind.”

Jason frowned at the knowledge. He knew the lack of planning prior to Black Mask’s eradication meant he didn’t have as much information about his operations. In the aftermath that meant competitors were popping up from holes he didn’t even know existed. It was like playing whack-a-mole, take out or subsume one and the three more had popped up in the meantime. He knew it was an issue but was at a loss of what to do about it.

“Do you have any recommendations for how to help?” Jason asked. Tom paused considering the question. Jason waited, sometimes he took a minute to come to a conclusion but Tom had some of the best ideas of all his lieutenants.

“Right now we are fighting everyone at once, perhaps we should pick our battles,” Tom said eventually. That sounded good on paper but he knew it would be hard to find an actionable solution. 

“I’ll think it over and see what I can do,” Jason said. “What’s next?”

Tom launched into the rest of his report. There were additional morale problems and several people Tom thought might be spies that Jason would need to look into.

“Thanks Tom,” Jason said when he and Tom were finally done reviewing everything.

“You can thank me by getting some rest. You’re no good to us half dead.”

“Alright, I hear you,” Jason said, trying to smile but only managing more of a grimace. Tom gave him a concerned look but left without further comment.

Jason’s mind was spinning, chewing on Tom’s comments about picking battles and working through different ideas. Frustrated, he thought back to Talia’s training. “What was the end goal?”

The easy answer was control over Crime Alley, and Jason realized that somewhere in the mess of Black Mask he had lost track of that. He was trying to take over half of Gotham, thinking more like Batman and trying to protect the whole city. The rest of Gotham had never cared about Crime Alley, why should he care about them. He had lost his focus but he knew now how to proceed, protect Crime Alley and damn the rest.

With the barebones of a plan forming Jason decided it was time to call it a night. He could work out the gritty details tomorrow when he was less tired.

_*_

Dick trudged up the seemingly endless stairs to Jay’s apartment. Patrol had been particularly rough even if he hadn’t sustained any injuries that required attention. He had gathered a number of bruises and strained his still recovering shoulder in a dodge.

When he finally reached the right door he could hear the muffled sound of raised voices drifting through it. Too tired to bother dealing with the overkill security system he just knocked in his unique pattern. The voices silenced immediately.

After a long moment Dick knew was far longer than it took to disable the security Tim opened the door just wide enough for Dick to see his face and half his body. His face and body language were carefully neutral. If the loud voices and  sudden silence hadn’t been a warning sign, the careful eye contact and perfectly still hand Dick could see on the door handle definitely were.

“Hello Dick,” Tim said. Dick raised an eyebrow waiting for Tim to move aside.

“Are you going to let me in?” Dick asked when Tim didn’t so much as twitch. Tim didn’t do anything as obvious as look over his shoulder but his hand tightened on the door knob. They stood in a stalemate for a long moment. But before Dick could decide if it was worth shoving past Tim to get inside, his brother released the door and stepped back.

Nothing was immediately wrong. All the furniture was accounted for in more or less the same condition it had been last time Dick saw it and there were no new holes in the walls. Tim’s homework was out on the new second-hand all purpose table and Damian was sitting at the chair across from the spread out papers, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him.

“Are either of you injured?” Dick asked, walking in and bending his knee to reach his shoelaces. The motion pulled a seam in his jeans across a shallow cut on his thigh from a few nights before and he fought down a wince, nearly missing the way Tim and Damian shared a glance before looking back at him.

“No,” Tim said and Dick breathed an internal sigh of relief. Suspiciously he eyed the apartment more closely as he stood up from lining his boots up at the door. Nothing stood out to him as different.

“Did you break anything?”

“No,” Tim said too fast this time. Dick debated how to interrogate the two of them, he would need to be careful not to be too harsh or imply to Damian that punishment would be severe. He took a step toward the couch and was reminded of exactly how much everything ached. His right shoulder in particular was hurting where the bullet had recently punched a hole in it. Dick really didn’t want to antagonize his brothers over something that might not even matter.

“If Jason is pissed about whatever you broke I’m not defending you,” Dick said. Bruce had emphasized picking his battles and he was choosing not to pick this one. Tim and Damian both visibly relaxed and Dick felt like he’d made the right decision.

“How’s homework going?” He asked as Tim settled back at the table, trying to change the subject.

“It would be easier without being bothered constantly,” Tim said, glaring at Damian who glared right back.

“I do not understand why you must perform tedious tasks when you clearly understand the material. It is a waste of your time that could be spent training,” Damian said, derision dripping from his words. At least that explained what the fight was over.

“You’re not allowed to train in the apartment,” Dick said. They really needed to get Damian enrolled in school, but if this was his reaction to someone else’s homework Dick could only imagine how bad he would be about being forced to do any himself.

“Exactly!” Tim said, gesturing angrily at Dick. “Plus homework might be dumb but if I fail the class he won’t let me patrol.”

“There is no need to worry about patrolling, as I have said, I can fill in for you.”

Tim’s face spasmed. He looked hurt briefly, glancing at Dick before smoothing his face into calm professionalism and looking straight at Damian. Dick understood now how the fight had gotten physical. Despite their constant bickering and verbal sniping they had mostly managed to stay peaceful. Dick had noticed a few signs that Tim felt insecure in his place in the family but this was a confirmation. He would need to talk to Jason about this as well.

“Damian that’s not how it works-” Dick said, trying to reassure Tim without being obvious.

“Of course it is. That is how it always has happened. One person can no longer patrol as Robin and the next one steps up,” Damian cut in.

“Tim is Robin and that isn’t changing,” Dick said firmly. “That’s the end of this conversation. Tim needs to do his homework despite how tedious and pointless anyone finds it.”

Dick’s declaration was followed by a smothering silence. Tim glared down at his homework holding a pen over the homework but noticeably not moving it. Damian frowned at Tim from across the table, back straight and brows furrowed like he was trying to study his brother.

Before Dick could find something else to say that would probably just make the situation worse the window alarm beeped the all clear and Jason shoved past the closed curtains.

He was still wearing his helmet so Dick couldn’t see his expression, but the slump in his shoulders was visible even with all the padding. He scanned the room, clearly picking up on the tension.

“I’m gonna go change,” he said, voice flattened and emotionless through the voice modulator. He turned and walked into his room, heavy combat boots clunking uncharacteristically on the hardwood floors.

After a moment Damaian came over to the couch, producing a sketchbook and pencil case from somewhere. He placed Dick between himself and Tim, carefully angling his sketchbook away from both of them.

Dick’s head spun replaying the earlier conversation over and over, hating how much he sounded like Bruce and his ultimatums. When Jason came back out, freshly showered, he looked even more tired than Dick felt.

“When was the last time you slept?” Dick asked and Jason just shrugged, walking to the tiled section of the room that delineated the kitchen.

“You look like death warmed over,” Tim said, finally looking up from his homework.

“Drake is right, much as it pains me to say.” Damian’s face twisted in dislike, looking much like he had when Dick had given him sour patch kids for the first time.

“Technically I am death warmed over,” Jason said with an attempt at a crooked grin, but there was no energy behind the quip. Something in Dick’s chest burned at the reminder of Jason’s death, the memory of standing in front of his brother's grave for the first time floods through his body. Alone, funeral long over, grass beginning to cover the disturbed earth, the bright sunlight reflecting harshly off the ostentatious angel Bruce had placed on top of his little brother’s body.

The room came back into focus with the smell of coffee, Jason was standing in front of the machine, alive, grinding the coffee in his stupidly expensive hand grinder. Everything all felt like too much, trying to balance patrol with raising two of his brothers. It was like walking a tightrope with no net and no platform on the other end, just endless rope.

Dick shoved himself off the couch coming to a decision. This was unsustainable. 

“No,” He said, walking over to Jason and grabbing the grinder out his hand and setting it back on the counter..

“Dick-” Jason started, but Dick didn’t let him finish.

“No,” he repeated, “You are exhausted, you’re going to bed.”

“I still have to-” Jason tried reaching for the grinder again.

“No you don’t,” Dick cut him off again, grabbing the grinder and holding it away from his brother. “You need to sleep.”

“Dick,” Jason said warningly, and Dick would be concerned if Jason didn’t look two seconds away from collapsing.

“You can barely walk in a straight line.” Dick was forced to back up as Jason made another grab for the grinder. He cursed that his Little Wing got so tall.

“That’s what the coffee is for, idiot,” Jason said.

“Grayson is correct,” Damian said from the couch. “You are useless without proper sleep.” He set his sketchbook to the side, and looked ready to join drag Jason to bed himself despite being a quarter the size of his older brother.

Instead of seeing reason, Jason groweled and lunged for the grinder with a snarled “fuck you.” Dick danced away, past the table and into the living room. His brother followed for a few steps and then crashed to the ground with an audible thud at the feet of a bored looking Tim who snorted at him derisively. Looking closer he noticed Tim’s foot tangled with Jason’s.

“Fine,” Jason said into the floorboards after a long moment.

Looking down at his brother on the floor Dick could feel his own tiredness, forgotten in the struggle, tug on his limbs.

“We need a day off. Tomorrow’s a weekend and we’re all going to sleep in, absolutely no patrolling,” Dick declared to the room. Both Tim and Damian turned to look at him and Jason dragged his head off the ground to stare at him like he thought Dick was crazy.

“I’m the oldest,” Dick said and it hit him how true that was. He went from having one little brother to having three in the span of a few weeks. Jason might be an adult, but Dick was still the oldest sibling by over half a decade. He smiled with the warmth that filled his chest, looking around at his three little brothers staring back at him in disbelief.

He returned to the penthouse with Tim eventually, all his younger brothers convinced to listen at least for tonight, though he’d had to personally turn off all of Jason’s morning alarms.

Dick laid in his bed contemplating what to tell Bruce. He pulled out his phone and found himself staring blankly at the message chain of short updates and shorter questions and replies. The phone connected the call before Dick even realized he’d hit the button.

“Hello,” Bruce said. “Dick?”

“Hey,” Dick said. He desperately wanted to tell Bruce about Damian and Tim’s fight. To ask why Tim was so insecure in his role as Robin. He wanted to tell him how Tim tripped Jason and Damian had teamed up with Dick in telling him to sleep. It hurt that he couldn’t without upsetting the balance he and his brothers had built.

“What’s up chum,” Bruce asked haltingly.

“Tim has been working on his math homework, he got an agreement from his teacher that he could do the old ones for partial credit, so he’s on track to pass math. I told him he can’t patrol until he finished the backlog.” Dick said instead of all the other things he wanted to.

“That’s good to hear,” Bruce said. “How are you doing?” He asked when Dick didn’t continue.

“Tired,” Dick said without thinking. The silence stretched as Bruce waited for him to elaborate. Dick hated it, Bruce used it as Batman too and the overlap had always bothered him.

“I’m fine, just a rough patrol,” Dick said eventually, caving to the silence.

“If you are hurt you can come-”

“I’m fine, “ Dick said. He knew he should be mad, Bruce was pushing him to come back when Dick had explicitly said he didn’t want to. Bruce had hurt him, emotions were no excuse. But he wasn’t. Bruce wasn’t ever easy to talk to but the conversation was comfortable in its familiarity.

“I won’t make you stay. I just want you to be safe,” Bruce said gently.

“I know,” Dick said, and he did. He trusted that Bruce would let him use the resources in the cave and let him leave when he was done. “We’re taking a rest day tomorrow.” It was more information than he meant to give but it felt right.

“That’s good, breaks are important.” Bruce said and Dick smiled.

“You’ve never taken a break in your life, how would you know?” He joked. Bruce huffed a silent laugh into the phone speaker, the sound fuzzing into static.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Sure sure, hypocrite,” Dick accused but there was no heat behind the words.

“Goodnight chum,” Bruce said.

“Night,” Dick hung up, still smiling. He plugged his phone in and rolled over. He was asleep before the screen had dimmed.

Chapter Text

Jason watched Damian and Tim from across the skatepark as Tim explained how to skate to Damian who stood in that perfect stillness Jason knew meant he wanted nothing more than to jump on the skateboard. Jason hoped whatever Tim was explaining it included how to stop. He was too far to do anything useful if Damian fell, and the kid wasn’t wearing any pads. Tim skated without them and they didn’t have any armor small enough that could be repurposed without questions.

This was the furthest he’d been from Damian outside the apartment since Talia had dropped the kid off. Jason consciously took a deep breath that did little to loosen the tightness in his chest. He resisted the urge to check his phone for a distraction, they were supposed to be having a work-free day.

Tim had wanted to skate and Jason had tagged along with Damian instead of going on their normal park visit. Dick had tried to join but he had looked ready to fall over and was favoring his shoulder. It had taken Jason an hour and threats of a sedative to convince him to stay at the apartment and rest. In the end Dick had acquiesced to resting on the couch while the three of them went to the skate park.

Jason leaned against the chain link fence next to one of the two entrances to the skatepark, and settled in to watch Tim and Damian from across the cement jungle gym of obstacles and pits instead of hovering over them like he wanted to.

Tim released Damian to skate on his own and the kid went surprisingly straight with only a slight wobble. Jason figured his combat training was transferable in the balance department. Damian skated smoothly past the far entrance and proceeded to plow directly into the cement wall of the building that bordered the skatepark, falling backward onto his ass. Tim rushed over, but Damian was already popping back up. When he turned in Jason’s direction momentarily he had an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

Jason forcibly relaxed his body and retraced the few steps he had already taken to lean back against the fence again. Watching Damian eagerly hop back onto the board for another try he felt the corner of his own lips twitch up.

_*_

Tim watched Damian skate across the pavement with even less wobble than last time. This time confident he would be able to stop before he hit the wall.

He saw the men before Damian, three bulky adults ran through the open gate focused on Damian just as he skated past it. Tim was already running before the last man had crossed into the park.

They weren’t wearing armor or protective gear but they moved as a unit, clearly used to working together, professionals. They weren’t wearing masks and were aiming for speed over subtlety. On a Saturday the park was full of teens and young adults, these guys weren’t afraid of being seen, possibly they wanted to be seen.

He reached the goons just as the first one grabbed Damian around the waist. Tim angled for the third goon, trying to get between them and the gate. His fighting style relied on keeping distance and surprise, without his bo staff, or any weapons for that matter, keeping his distance was going to be impossible. The third goon, the last through the gate, had already clocked him and was turning his way ruining any advantage surprise would have given him.

Tim knew Jason was across the park and he would come for Damian if not for Tim. He didn’t need to stop all three, he just needed to delay them until Jason got there. He resisted the strong urge to look over and confirm Jason was on his way and stayed focused on goon three.

He heard a shout of pain from Damian’s area but was busy dodging a clumsy grab. He followed up with a kick at the man’s left leg. Instead of toppling, when his knee collapsed he kept his balance and went down on one knee. It put him in the perfect position to catch tim’s follow-up kick at his head. His hand reached nearly all the way around Tim's ankle, and a hard tug wrenched Tim off balance.

The finger’s released as Tim went down, the man taking the opportunity to stand assuming Tim was down for good. With his ankle free Tim recovered into a roll clear of the third goon but to the side of the gate, leaving the exit wide open.

The second goon had Damian slung over his shoulders. The first goon was clutching his arm, splotches of dark blood staining the ground at his feet, though his clothes were too dark to show any.

Tim could hear people shouting, starting to notice the kidnapping. Jason was pulling his gun as he leaped and dodged around various obstacles and skaters. The goons were almost at the entrance and Tim could tell Jason wasn’t going to make it.

Tim darted for the second goon, going for a faint to grab Damian dropping into a slide at the last moment. Just a few more seconds and Jason would be there.

The sharp retort of a gun sounded as Tim dropped. The second goon jumped clearing Tim easily and a body thunked down next to Tim, the first goon, his face blown out, only blood and brain matter left where eyes and a nose should be.

Then there were arms hands on him around his chest, pinning his arms against his side and a hand yanking his head back. He saw Jason still running, gun raised but not firing. He looked furious. After a second the gun lowered as he jumped a grinding bar and Tim felt his feet dragging as he was pulled backward. He kicked out and connected with what he assumed was a shin.

The goon holding him swore and the hand in his hair tightened. Tim tried again but hit only air as he was suddenly lifted. Then there was the black interior of a van door sliding between him and Jason.

“Drive!” Someone shouted and he was thrown clear across the empty back of the truck as it peeled away, the door cutting out the last of the natural light and then clunking shut.

The dark space was filled with shouts over the roar of the engine, thinking sounds followed as everyone was thrown around by the truck swerving and the two adults struggled to control their struggling captives.

Tim thrashed as he was manhandled, trying to land any hits he could and wriggle out of the more professional hold the good was attempting.

Unfortunately Tim’s size and the confined space put him a severe disadvantage. All too soon he was pinned down and the sound of a duct tape roll cut through the air. Tim realized he couldn’t hear Damian’s voice and thrashed harder even as his own wrists were wrenched behind him sharply and he felt the gross feeling of duct tape glue on his wrists.

The unforgiving material was wrapped around his wrists and forearms until he couldn’t move, his shoulders already aching. And then they kept going. Something was stuffed in his mouth and then wrapped around the back of his head silencing him.

The van quieted into the sound of the engine punctuated by the periodic sound of more duct tape being pulled to wrap around Tim’s arms, and then his ankles.

“Fuck,” one of the goons said.

“No shit,” the other one said.

The sound of the tape finally stopped and Tim sagged in relief for a moment. Then there was a hand in his hair again. He snarled but the gag blocked the sound. Something touched his forehead and he twisted even as the hand in his hair yanked harder, pulling against his already sore scalp. His struggles did nothing to stop the bag from being yanked the rest of the way over his head, the hand disappearing just before the bottom was cinched tightly around his neck, just below his chin.

“Little shit,” one said and Tim guessed it was goon three, or was it two now that one was dead? His blown out face flashed vividly against the black interior of the hood.

“The little one bit me,” definitely goon two said, sounding petulant.

“Oh don’t fucking whine, Jim’s fucking dead.” The car fell into silence at that statement. The engine rumbled around them, steady enough Tim knew pursuit had ended.

“How did he even make that shot?” Goon two asked into the silence.

“Well he’s definitely the red hood,” a third voice said. The driver, unless there was a fourth goon in the car but Tim doubted it. “He nearly took out the damn tires.”

“Shit seriously?” Goon two asked.

The men continued to chat idly but Tim ignored them, trying to piece the situation together. He needed to find an angle to work to get them out of here.

It was a surprise that they knew Jason was Red Hood but it gave reasoning for the kidnapping at least. Damian had been the target, Tim was just extra. At least he had been right about one thing, they had wanted to be seen. They wanted Red Hood to know they took Damian.

The four were definitely a team based on how they worked, but the casual reaction to goon one’s death suggested they weren’t emotionally invested in each other. Tim could use that, divide them and break the coordination. He worked his jaw around the slowly dampening rough cloth and revised that idea. If they ever let him talk he might be able to. He didn’t need to test the tape to know he wasn’t managing anything physical, though he couldn’t help squirming against them anyway.

“Stop that,” goon three said, cuffing Tim on the head. Tim flinched, more from surprise than pain, it had been relatively light. “You’re just a bonus, behave and you get to stay in one piece.”

Tim stilled as he processed what that meant for Damian. He wasn’t letting them lay a finger on his, well, Jason and Dick’s little brother.

_*_

Watching his brothers Jason felt a vibration against his leg and reached down to fish his phone out of his pocket. He expected it to be Dick, but instead it was Eoin, Michael’s second. Jason had made it clear that morning to only contact him for dire emergencies, and Michael generally handled all interactions himself. If Eoin was calling something had gone terribly wrong.

He angled himself away from the park trying to minimize the phone picking up the sound of the skatepark.

“What?” Jason said into the phone.

“Boss,” Eoin started. “There’s been an incident at headquarters.” His voice was shaking slightly, and while Jason didn’t interact with him much, he had always been steady in the face of emergencies.

“What happened?” Jason asked.

“We need you here,” Eoin said instead of explaining and Jason paused. Eoin wasn’t supposed to be at headquarters today. There were plenty of other people who would be in a better position to call him. Plenty of people who would have called him before Eoin.

He looked across the park to assure himself that Damian and Tim were still fine despite knowing they were in no danger. Instead he saw three men attacking his bothers a white van just beyond the gate side door open. Damian was fighting off two men and Tim dodging a third.

Everything dropped away except his little brothers across the park fighting men twice their size. He pocketed the phone without hanging up, breaking into a sprint calculating a route through the maze of skating obstacles and civilians. He drew his gun as he leaped the first grinding bar.

One of the goons got a grip on Damian, and Jason felt the growl vibrate his throat but didn’t hear anything but static.

He dodged right, around a pit and narrowly avoided getting hit by a scooter mid trick. He focused back on his brothers in time to see Damian lifted up from a grip at his waist by one goon and Tim expertly dodge another,

It felt like there was no air in his chest but his lungs continued to pump air evenly with every pouding step forward. The goon holding Damian shouted and shoved the eight year old toward the man Tim wasn’t fighting. The man slung Damian over his shoulder, a dagger glinting in the sunlight as it fell from Damian’s hands.  The man turned toward the gate and Jason got a clear look at both goons’ faces before they had fully faced away toward the gate. Jason’s brain helpfully supplied both  names but Jason was too focused on dodging a teenager on roller blades to focus on why.

Sean took off with a struggling Damian toward the van and Jason realized he wasn’t going to make it. Tim was executing a classic Robin move, faint high and slide to take out the legs, aiming for Sean. Jason took aim at Jim, following behind still clutching his arm.

Jason’s bullet hit, but Tim missed, Sean jumping straight over him and Grant coming up to the group and grabbing Tim himself. The two kids were dragged out the gate and into a nondescript white van, Jason aimed but was unable to get another clear shot with the third goon, Grant, holding Tim up as a human shield.

The van took off before the door was fully closed. Jason followed into the street.

He slammed one knee down in the middle of the road ignoring the vibrations through his hip, and took aim at the tires. The recoil reverberated through his arms and shoulders as he fired at the erratically swerving van. He reached for his ankle gun as he fired the last bullet in his first one, dropping the empty pistol even as he raised the second. He got two more shots off from the lower caliber weapon before the van turned a corner and he lost his chance.

He stayed knelt, staring after the van as recognition of the license plate number registered. That was his van. Panicked shouting from the skatepark filtered in, the static in his ears receding. A car honked and swerved around him. He was still in the middle of an active street, the van now long gone. He didn’t have any of his gear let alone his grapple and had no chance of catching the van on foot

He reholstered both his guns, and shoved himself back to standing. His knee twinged and buckled slightly beneath his weight and he limped slightly back to the entrance of the park as his knee slowly recovered from being slammed into asphalt with no padding.

His eye caught on Tim’s skateboard abandoned next to the gate and he absently picked it up. His skin crawled and his limbs itched for motion. His entire body screamed for violence, for him to do something, anything. He ignored it. There was nothing here left for him to hurt except Jim’s cooling corpse.

He bend down and rifled through his pockets but came up with nothing. He stood up and forced himself to turn away. His skin felt too tight and his lungs contracted. He knew this crew, he had worked with Jim and the others personally before.

Jason found himself turning around and kicking Jim’s corpse with a scream. The feeling of ribs crunching under his boot was satisfying, the body lifted and flopped over limp. He kicked a few more times just to release the tension.

When the static running along his skin had receded he stopped. His breathing was ragged as he stared down at the now mangled body on the ground and he could feel the rage building back up.

The pointlessness of beating up a corpse just made him angrier. He needed to find a real target which meant getting his emotions under control.

Jason forced himself to breathe through the anger. Talia’s voice echoed in his head. Her calm voice reminding him that anger was a tool and he couldn’t let the anger cloud his judgement and rule his decisions. He needed to separate why he was angry and let it direct his goals but not his plans.

He clenched his fists at his side and forced himself to regulate his breathing, and focus on what he needed. Recover his brothers and make an example so clear nobody would ever consider touching his people again.

His destruction of Black Mask hadn’t been deterrent enough, this needed to be bigger, closer to his first night out as Red Hood. That initial takeover had taken months to plan and the key had been to make it look effortless. Now he needed to one-up that performance in a matter of hours.

This time he wasn’t alone, he had Dick. Dick who was currently alone in the apartment hopefully still sleeping. Jason’s breath hitched at the thought of telling his older brother he lost Tim and Damian. A separate fire flooded his veins at the realization that if they knew to go after Damian they must know where he lived.

Before he had even made the conscious decision the phone was at his ear, the familiar sound of ringing echoing as he prayed for Dick to pick up.