#homecoming dicktiger fic

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 25

Masterlist

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.3k

Summary: Tiger gets his communicator and an existential crisis. Dick gets a phone call. They also carpool into the city for a debrief and an appointment.

Notes: Can someone other than me please post in the DickTiger omg I’m trying to keep a weekly schedule but it looks like I’m taking over

Warnings: anxiety, allusions to the torture

****

Chapter 25

“Here you go.” Tim passed Tiger an earpiece. “All yours.”

“I still can’t believe Bruce literally offered to give you one,” said Stephanie. “Is he okay?”

Tiger looked at Dick. “Well? Is he okay?”

Dick snorted, which had always been oddly endearing. “I mean, he’s being nice which is always weird but I’m pretty sure he’s fine.”

Tiger pressed the earpiece into place. Tim passed him a wrist computer disguised as a watch, which he used to tune the communicator to his first Spyral frequency.

“Dick asked nicely,” Jason said. “Of course he gave it to you.”

“I didn’t actually ask Bruce to give Tiger a communicator,” Dick corrected. “I just insisted we include Helena.”

“Same thing.”

“And I wasn’t fucking nice about it.”

Jason laughed. Dick glared. No one took him seriously.

“It’s cute when he tries to be serious,” said Stephanie.

“No, it is laughable,” said Damian.

Tiger left Dick to the mercy of his siblings and stepped into the hallway. He called Helena, who answered immediately.

“There you are. I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

“You are a hard woman to forget,” Tiger replied.

“Aw, is Dick teaching you how to charm a lady?”

“Do you find him charming? I do not.”

“You’re fooling nobody,” Helena replied.

Tiger resisted the temptation to retort. “I have arranged a meeting with Checkmate next Thursday at thirteen hundred hours in Gotham City.”

“During the day? Huh.”

“Which means most of my current associates will not be available to provide backup.”

“So you’re asking me? I’m flattered.”

“Helena.”

“Relax. I’m available. I’ll get in touch with your people and arrange logistics.”

“My people?”

“Your boyfriend’s people. His father specifically.”

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Helena chuckled. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” She ended the call.

Tiger leaned against the wall behind him. He did not know how he felt about returning to Checkmate, only that it caused an unpleasant jittering sensation in his stomach.

Actually, he did know how he felt about it: awful.

Tiger had not been a standard agent for years. Now that his undercover mission was over, he did not feel a need to return to the way things had been before.

Even though his hands shook whenever he touched a gun and he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in so long he’d lost count, he would not trade that for a return to life before the Spyral mission. The realisation felt strange. Losing the ability to take orders and carry them out, no questions asked, no sleep lost… it felt like he’d lost a part of himself. A part of his identity.

And yet…

If he compared how he felt now to how he’d felt before going undercover…

Strange.

He was happier now. In an odd way. Checkmate had recruited him from Afghanistan when he was barely eighteen. He’d been old enough to fight, old enough to have a fearsome reputation, and yet…

He’d been so young.

So confused.

He was still confused today, but about different things. Perhaps confusion was a part of who he was. Well, at least that hadn’t changed, even if the source of his confusion had.

The young Tiger King of Kandahar had hidden his confusion, his uncertainty, behind fighting. There had always been someone to defend, or someone to punish. He’d taken the name given to him for his deeds in the place of his birth and fashioned it into a mask. Armour. That title became his identity. It still was, but in a different way.

The name Tiger felt like a comfortable old coat these days, worn in all the right places. The original occasion for which he’d first donned it had ceased to matter many wears ago. It was his, and that was enough. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a barrier and started being him.

In fact, it felt less like an old coat and more like his own skin. He owed some of that to Checkmate, but most of it had changed because he had changed.

In many respects, Spyral was equally as responsible… if not more so.

His feelings were beginning to make more sense. Checkmate felt like a step backwards. The Tiger who’d joined Checkmate was not the same Tiger who was set to return.

Given the emotional state he’d been in when he’d volunteered to infiltrate Spyral, that was an improvement. It felt strange calling post-traumatic stress an improvement.

Well, in reality, it wasn’t his trauma that had changed him. That had simply come along for the ride, as Dick might say.

Tiger had grown up quickly, but only now was he finding true maturity. He’d felt so worldly when he’d joined Checkmate. Perhaps that was youth. Perhaps it was fighting the Taliban from a young age. Perhaps both.

In truth, he’d known very little. In many respects, he felt he knew less now.

“Hey,” Dick poked his head out the door. “You’ve been gone a while. Everything okay?”

Tiger nodded. “I was thinking.”

Dick joined him at the wall. “Oh?”

“Do you find that as you grow older, you know less?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Do you think it is normal?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dick leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger held very still so he wouldn’t move. “We’re getting wise in our old age, T.”

Tiger couldn’t hold back a laugh; he found it harder to control these days, especially when Dick knew how to get under his skin. “Yes, you do look very old.”

“Yeah, and you’re about to collapse into dust yourself.”

“Well, my joints make noises they never used to make. Perhaps that time is almost upon me.”

“Or you could just stop getting your ass kicked every few weeks. I’ve heard good health keeps you young.”

“I would not know.”

Dick laughed, sliding his hand into Tiger’s. “Anyway. What brought this on?”

“I was thinking about Checkmate. I was barely eighteen when they recruited me in Afghanistan.”

“And I bet you thought you knew everything.”

“To be fair, I had repelled my fair share of Taliban attacks.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive. Some cockiness is to be expected.”

“I may also have wrestled a tiger.”

“Shit. Really?”

“You will never know if I’m telling the truth.”

“You bastard,” Dick murmured.

“I volunteered for the Spyral mission,” Tiger said. He hadn’t set out to share that information, but maybe he’d needed to say it. He’d had few opportunities to talk about it with anyone.

Dick looked up at him; there was some kind of tension behind his eyes that made Tiger suspect he would have another migraine soon. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Not much of one. I was well-respected in Checkmate, but I wanted to get away.”

“So you volunteered for a deep cover mission. Naturally. Why did you want to get away?”

That wasn’t something Tiger liked to think about. He already regretted opening his mouth. He wondered if his reason was still with Checkmate, or whether things had changed there as well.

Dick took the hint. “Ah, well. Story for another time? I’m a great listener.”

“I know.”

***

The worst of the migraine had passed, but Dick still winced whenever he saw too much light. Or heard anything louder than a whisper. Tiger was elsewhere; Dick didn’t like anyone seeing him like this, even if he could tolerate another person’s presence when the pain was at its worst.

He sat on the bed in the dark, slowly sipping a glass of water. Tension still bunched in his muscles; he’d learned from experience that it wouldn’t go away properly until he found the strength to move around and stretch. For now, though, he’d just have to deal.

His phone vibrated, which set his teeth on edge. Tim had messed with the settings so the backlight didn’t hurt as much when he looked at the screen, but he still had to do it quickly. It was Kory.

She didn’t call very often. He picked up right away and put the phone on speaker so he could keep it away from his aching head.

“Hello?”

“Dick?”

“The one and only.”

Kory let out a breath. “Oh, X’Hal. It’s true. You’re back.”

“Back and better than ever,” Dick said dryly; he wasn’t sure she’d pick up on the sarcasm, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. “Jason run his mouth?”

“Who else?”

“Good point.”

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long few months. I’ll be fine.” A phone conversation wasn’t the ideal platform to hash out what exactly had been going on and why he sounded half-dead. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well.”

“Seen Roy lately?”

Starfire chuckled. “Yes. He just left.”

“Tell him I say hi next time you see him… which I’m sure will be soon.”

“Dick…”

“I’m not mad, Kory. We’ve both moved on. Go forth, be merry.”

“You say the strangest things.”

“You talk to Jason on the regular. I think your opinion of strange is a bit skewed.”

“You’re probably right.” Kory hummed softly. “Jason says you’re living with your family again.”

“Yeah, some stuff went down on the tail end of my mission. Needed to find my feet.”

“Yes, your mission.” Kory’s voice hardened. “The mission where you faked your death.”

Dick sighed; he should’ve expected this. “I’m sorry I put you through that. Just because I needed to be dead in the eyes of the public didn’t mean I needed to be dead to the people I care about.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised that.” She still sounded pissed. That was valid.

“You ever find yourself in Gotham?” Dick asked. “We should talk properly. Face to face.”

“I might be in the neighbourhood next week. To visit Jason.”

“And if we happen to bump into each other, that’ll be a happy coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Text me the details. When you have them.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll give the big guy some warning so he doesn’t get mad about metahumans in the city again.”

Kory laughed. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Dick set the phone aside and pressed his fingers into his temples. It had been easy enough to block out the pain while talking to Kory, but now it was coming back with a vengeance.

Still, he was glad for the phone call. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kory. And the last time she’d seen him was at his funeral. Not exactly conducive to conversation.

It would be good to see her. He still loved her, in a way, but the need to have her to himself had long since dissipated. Enough time had passed that he could genuinely be happy for her when she saw other people.

Yeah. Now was a good time to clear the air between them. If things went well, maybe she’d like to meet Tiger.

***

The day to visit Checkmate came before Tiger was prepared for it. Even the morning prayer had done little to soothe his nerves.

It didn’t help that Dick was coming off another migraine. He made it to breakfast with Tiger, but neither of them had much of an appetite. Tiger had told Dick to go back to bed several times, but he refused.

“Good news,” Dick said quietly, picking at the fruit salad Alfred had made. “We’re carpooling today.”

“This is the first I am hearing of it.”

“Only got confirmed last night,” Dick said. “I’m seeing a specialist in Gotham, so Alfred’s driving both of us into the city. We’ll drop you off first.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?”

“The sunglasses aren’t just for decoration.” Dick patted his shirt pocket. “I’ll manage.”

Tiger had to admit having Dick close for the journey made him feel better. He stopped protesting.

“Does this specialist know what they are doing?” Damian said, stabbing a waffle with his usual fervour.

“It’s the same guy who stopped my head exploding on a near-nightly basis,” Tim replied. “He’s legit.”

“Your migraines are a result of inferior genetics, Drake, not a torture machine.”

Tim looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Damian eyed him for a moment longer, until he evidently decided Tim was not going to react the way he wanted him to. Then Dick caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

Damian scowled. “I apologise, Drake.”

“Sure.” Tim said absent-mindedly, more focused on his coffee.

“Anyway…” Dick finally picked up some pineapple on his fork. “I don’t know if the specialist can help, but I’m willing to give it a shot. At this point, I’ll try anything.”

Dick looked exhausted. Tiger knew for a fact he was, in fact, as tired as he looked. Neither of them had slept well last night. Dick was abstaining from coffee and Tiger did not need caffeine shakes, so there was no respite on the horizon.

Once it was time to leave, they’d both managed to choke down some breakfast. Cassandra had gone ahead to meet Helena; they would remain near the building but would not enter unless absolutely necessary. Tiger did not need an extra set of eyes over his shoulder. He would be under enough scrutiny already.

He was grateful they would be close by if needed, however.

Dick still flinched in the sunlight, but he appeared to shake it off. They sat together in the back of the car while Alfred drove.

“Should you require an earlier pickup than anticipated, sir,” said Alfred, “call me and I will come. Should you lose access to your phone, I use the family’s communication frequency. Master Dick, if you would…?”

“Sure.” Dick held out his palm. Tiger dropped the communicator in his hand. Dick pressed a few buttons on his watch, frowning. Or perhaps squinting. After a moment, the communicator beeped softly and Dick handed it back.

Tiger put it in his ear. “I may need to surrender my devices.”

Dick made a pulling motion from his watch and a dim holographic display grew from it. He pressed a few holographic keys and then held his wrist close to Tiger.

“Give it a few words.”

“Hello, watch.” Tiger grimaced. “I feel ridiculous.”

The watched beeped and Dick pulled back. “That was enough. Okay, you should be able to program any communicator to patch you into our frequency. You’ll be asked to give voice confirmation. If something really bad happens, which I doubt it will, it’ll also work on all cell phones, Gotham payphones and some kitchen appliances.”

“What?”

“Wayne Enterprises gets everywhere, babe.”

Tiger would never get used to that nickname, but at least it was a pleasant feeling. He still did not feel ready when Alfred parked the car near the nondescript office building that housed Checkmate’s Gotham outpost.

Dick kissed his cheek. “You’ll be okay. We won’t be far. And Cass and Helena will be on hand if something weird happens. Which it probably won’t.”

“Yes, very comforting.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick squeezed both his hands. “You just did them a massive favour. As far as I’m concerned, the least they can do is listen to you about Bannon.”

That name always felt like a lance through his stomach. He nodded silently and slid out of the car.

As they drove off, Dick blew him a kiss out the window. Tiger tried to burn that image into his mind. He could use some encouragement once he was inside.

He approached the glass doors. They slid open for him. He stepped through, heart pounding in his throat.

He paused in the lobby. Breathed. The lobby itself was deliberately dull and sterile. Not the kind of place someone would walk into by accident. Unless they were trying to escape a murderer, Tiger supposed.

The woman at the front desk was a stranger, probably a newer agent who joined after Tiger had gone undercover. She seemed to recognise him anyway and waved him through the next set of doors. Here, things became more interesting.

A security guard passed Tiger a plastic tub. He put his communicator, watch and phone inside. Then he removed his shoes and placed them on the conveyor belt.

“We’ll need to confiscate your electronics,” the guard said. “You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Tiger passed through a body scanner and retrieved his shoes on the other side. He was almost certain Bruce had hidden a tracker on him, but it was clearly disguised enough or of such little consequence that security did not feel the need to search and destroy.

Another receptionist was seated behind another desk, this time close to a pair of grey elevators. “Welcome back, Bishop Five,” he said, stamping a barcode onto the back of Tiger’s hand. “You’re needed on level ten. Have a nice day.”

Tiger stepped into the elevator and tapped the back of his hand against the card reader. Level ten selected itself and the doors sealed him in the elevator.

Tiger fell into parade rest. He shut his eyes and took deep, slow breaths. He had never been to the Gotham City branch of Checkmate before, so it was unlikely he would run into many people who knew him. Maxwell Lord was probably here, and perhaps Amanda Waller, but anyone else? No.

The doors let out a ding and slid open. Tiger stepped out, feeling calmer. He had no reason to feel anxious. He had done his job. All he needed to do was report in and give his recommendations.

And possibly attend an evaluation, which he would likely fail. Then again, it was more likely they would schedule it for another day. If all went to plan, he would not be here for long.

Tiger started down the hallway. The barcode on his wrist would automatically open the correct door once he reached it, and this place was linear. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He had nothing to—

A door up ahead slid open. An agent stepped into the hallway. They locked eyes, and recognition sparked between them.

“Eimal,” Tiger breathed.

“Tiger.” Eimal’s face broke into an uneasy smile. The man was handsome as ever… his dark, intelligent eyes; his nose slightly crooked from being broken one too many times; his thick, black hair…

This was exactly who Tiger had not wanted to see.

Eimal’s smile relaxed, just a small amount. “It’s good to see you.”

Tiger couldn’t answer. He suddenly felt much younger, in the throes of heartbreak once again. That was a dangerous feeling. He made rash decisions when he felt like this. He had to breathe. Had to control it. This feeling was nothing more than the ghost of a relationship long since dead.

He swallowed. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Lord thought you might like to see a friendly face.” Eimal’s smile turned pained. “I had hoped enough time had passed that…”

Tiger did not know how to respond. He often felt clumsy and slow around Eimal. The man was a few years older and, he’d once believed, much wiser. He had joined Checkmate before Tiger and had been among the first to welcome him. Meeting another Pashtun had helped keep the homesickness at bay for them both.

“The past is the past,” Tiger finally said, hoping he sounded firm. He did not feel firm. He felt like the ground would soon crumble beneath him.

A flash of hurt appeared in Eimal’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Tiger might have imagined it. “Well, it was good to see you. Don’t keep Lord waiting.” He gestured to the door at the end of the hall.

“Thank you.” Tiger didn’t know what else to say. Eimal stepped aside to let him pass. Tiger felt like he was walking through water. When he turned back, Eimal was gone.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 26

Tumblr is being a pain and hiding this from the tag again, so I guess I’ll have to take out the masterlist link again. Because functioning websites are for losers, apparently.

This is part of the Human Connection series. You can find the masterlist linked on my “tags and fics” page.

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.2k

Summary: Tiger has his debriefing with Maxwell Lord.

Notes: Angsty chapter incoming.

Warnings: discussions of torture (with some detail), discussions of violence (with some detail), panic attack, vomiting, discussion of a past relationship age gap

***

Chapter 26

Maxwell Lord’s office was sparsely decorated with the barest of necessities: a desk, three chairs, a computer, a filing cabinet, a shredder. It was clear he did not intend to remain here full time. He sat behind his desk with a recording device. Tiger sat on the other side in a chair that was too soft for comfort. He felt like he was sinking.

“Well,” Maxwell Lord said, folding his hands on the desk. “It seems you’ve had an eventful few years.”

Tiger wanted to comment that Lord knew most of this information already because only a fool would send an agent undercover without any kind of oversight, but thought better of it. Dick and Helena took his comments in their stride, but Checkmate was more… formal. In some ways.

“Yes,” Tiger said. “I have.”

“I understand you are still in contact with Bertinelli,” said Lord. “She has provided recommendations of her own. I would be interested to hear yours.”

“Most Spyral agents who remain were unaware of their employer’s true intentions,” Tiger replied. “They could be rehabilitated...”

“But?”

“We need to discuss Bannon.”

“You were light on the details of his involvement,” Lord said. “I take it you wanted to speak about his behaviour as a whole?”

“Yes.” Tiger glanced at the recorder. It was still working. He was uncomfortable, but if this conversation did not go on record, it would be much easier for Checkmate to ignore his opinions.

“This recording will be transcribed and redacted,” Lord told him. “You know it’s confidential. No one can access it without authorisation. You can speak freely.”

Tiger had to remind himself to take a deep breath. “I ask your patience in this matter.”

Lord nodded. “Granted. Is this a difficult topic for you?”

Admitting weakness to his superiors never felt right… but it felt necessary this time. “Yes.”

“You have mentioned multiple encounters with Bannon. Shall we work through them chronologically?”

Tiger didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded.

“Tell me what happened after you were abducted from the store.”

Tiger did not like to think about it, let alone talk about it. He had only shared the barest of details at best, and only with Dick. Putting his thoughts in order felt like putting sandpaper on his brain.

“Bannon chained me to a wall,” Tiger said. “By the wrists. It was uncomfortable on its own, but then he struck me repeatedly in the face and torso. He demanded to know where I had been, where I was going and where Grayson was located. I refused to answer. He broke three of my ribs. My nose did not break, but I bled profusely. Those are only the injuries which left a mark.” He balled his hands into fists on his knees to stop them shaking. It was not effective. “He kept the room cold. He would leave me alone between beatings until I felt it. Shivering was painful, but I could not stop it. I was denied water. Had Grayson not come for me, denial of food was also likely.”

Lord sighed. “Tiger, the unfortunate reality is most spy organisations use these interrogation techniques for a reason. That is why we train our agents to withstand them.”

Tiger had to fight down the urge to punch him, or to run out of the room. He was not sure which would have prevailed if he had been unsuccessful.

“If you are implying that I am weak—”

“That is not what I am implying.” Lord was lying. Tiger could hear it in his voice.

“Shall I continue?” Tiger said, not waiting for an answer. “He knew which ribs were broken. He deliberately struck them to cause more pain. I am fortunate my lungs were not punctured by bone fragments.” Breathing hurt, as if his ribs were broken again. “I do not recall that as a common interrogation technique from my training. Risking the death of your prisoners seems counterproductive. The man simply enjoys hurting people.”

“He’s a rare breed,” Lord said. “We don’t have many people who are willing to inflict that level of suffering for interrogation purposes.”

“I know you have read the research: torture as an interrogation technique is ineffective. Prisoners, once they reach a breaking point, will say what the interrogator wants to hear, even if it is inaccurate.”

“Did you?”

“I was not in his grasp long enough. Grayson was, when his time came.”

“Had Grayson not located you, do you think you would have answered his questions?”

“I had hoped to delay long enough that information about Grayson’s location would be outdated.”

“You were in no condition to fabricate a believable lie?”

“I do not know.” Tiger gripped his knees, because if he didn’t hold onto something there was a chance he would walk about. Or punch Lord.

“So, you’re telling me Bannon was an effective enough interrogator that it’s difficult to lie to him?”

“No. Grayson lied to him often.”

Lord rubbed his chin. “That is interesting. Now, you say you encountered him again later.”

“He stabbed me in the shoulder. We were allies by then, to his knowledge.” Tiger hating thinking back to that fight. “Bannon started the fight when Bertinelli brought me back to Spyral. I did not expect he would attack an ally and was unprepared.”

“Do you know why he started that fight?”

“He said he wanted to prove my weakness to the director of Spyral.” That was something else Tiger hadn’t discussed with Dick. Dick knew there had been a fight, but not the details.

“Was he under orders to do this?”

“I am uncertain. Daedalus might have ordered him to weaken my connection to Bertinelli, but I have no evidence.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to ask him.”

Tiger’s stomach lurched. “I would prefer you did not.”

“Are you concerned he will know you spoke to me about this?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

“Well, it’s an important thing to know. If he chose to attack you while you were, to his knowledge, an ally, that does raise concerns. However, if he was under orders…”

Tiger wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. “What of Grayson?”

“Grayson has a great deal of valuable knowledge.”

“He forced me torture him. He placed Grayson in a machine he knew caused long-term medical problems. Even then, Grayson did not provide the information he demanded.” Tiger’s voice was rising, and he couldn’t stop it. “He caused Grayson severe life-changing injuries for no reason. He tormented me for no reason after I had already been forced to obey his orders. Bannon finds joy in hurting people. He likes it. After all the bullshit I went through to stop Spyral, the fact you want to recruit the man who—”

Lord held up a hand. “Tiger, enough. I understand this situation is distressing, but you must recognise you are too close to give an objective assessment. If you were in my place and you had a perfect candidate before you, who could save millions of lives if his energies are channelled correctly… if the only problem was he had harmed an agent of yours, can you tell me you would not consider—”

“No,” Tiger snapped, “I would not employ somebody who treated an agent in my care the way Bannon has treated me. I would be more concerned about retaining the talent I had instead of—”

“Do you intend to return to the field, Tiger?”

“I will not pass the psychological assessment. Because of Bannon.”

“But if you did pass?”

“I cannot answer that, because I would be a different person.”

“Your point about retaining talent is irrelevant if the talent is not retainable.”

That sentence was a knife through Tiger’s stomach. He’d never before considered that Checkmate would stop caring about him the instant he was no longer useful to them.

He should have known that. The foolishness of his youth had come to betray him once again. It did not matter that he had completed a high-risk years-long mission for Checkmate. It did not matter he had put his life, body and sanity on the line for them. If he was no longer useful, why would they care about his opinions, or even what happened to him?

Tiger was not a fool… until he was.

He wanted to leave.

A hand fell on his shoulder. He flinched.

“I’d like you to take the evaluation,” said Lord, “regardless of whether you believe you will pass. Same time next week. Afterwards, we can talk about your future with Checkmate. You’re a good agent, Tiger. It would be a shame to lose you.”

Tiger wasn’t sure if he wanted to cry or hit something.

***

After the meeting, Tiger shut himself in a bathroom. In such a private building, each bathroom was clean and self-contained with a toilet, shower and sink. There was also a bench, on which Tiger now sat with his head cradled in his hands, trying to remember how to breathe.

He was failing.

He desperately wanted to hear Dick’s voice, but his devices were downstairs with the security guard. Tiger was not up for the journey yet.

Lord was going to recruit Bannon. What he’d done to Dick and Tiger did not matter. Tiger should have expected this. Checkmate may have been home to him once, but they were still spies. People were tools. They might try to repair them when they broke, but they would not hesitate to discard them if they thought it was a better use of their time. Especially when someone was too broken to be fixed by stitches and a few therapy sessions.

If Tiger was lucky, they might give him a medical discharge and some compensation. Assuming they didn’t discharge him for insubordination.

He felt sick. He threw up in the toilet. Then he sat on the floor, shaking.

This had been a bad idea. He should have known Checkmate would recruit Bannon, that what he said would not matter. Many of the people involved in Checkmate also had their hands in other operations… such as the Suicide Squad, which recruited violent criminals because they were violent criminals.

Bannon’s recruitment was nothing to these people. Tiger should have known better. He should have been prepared. This should not have hurt him as much as it did.

But he was hurt. Badly. He did not know how he would find the strength to get off the floor, walk down that long corridor, into the elevator and through security. Where would he find the strength to pretend he was okay long enough to get home safely?

Home.

Wayne Manor.

He was not sure how he felt about that. Checkmate had once been home to him, too. Even Spyral, after a while.

Spyral was gone. Checkmate was not the safe harbour it had pretended to be. Wayne Manor was…

Dick was there. Jason. Damian. Tim. Cassandra. Stephanie. Alfred.

They seemed to care about him. But so had Checkmate.

A knock on the door. “Tiger, get out here.” A woman’s voice. Helena.

What was she doing here?

Tiger pushed himself to his feet, flushed the toilet, washed his hands. Opened the door.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been gone a while,” Helena replied.

“How—”

“My temporary clearance from my meetings with Lord still works,” she said. “Come on. Dick and Alfred are waiting, but Dick doesn’t look too good. We need to go.”

Tiger took a breath. “Okay.”

They started down the corridor.

“How did you know I was here?”

“I ran into Eimal at the security checkpoint.”

Tiger was quickly reaching his limit of surprises. “And how do you know Eimal?”

“He was part of the handover team who took the prisoners off our hands,” Helena replied. “Mentioned he knows you.”

“Knew me.”

Helena raised an eyebrow. “Ah, he’s your ex. Bit old for you, don’t you think?”

“Ten years is not—” Tiger stopped himself. “We are not having this conversation.” They reached the elevator and Tiger stabbed the down button. “I regret telling you I had an ex.”

“Ten years is an age gap I’d be concerned about for how young you were at the time.”

“Helena.”

“And I know he hurt you, so I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“It was a long time ago,” Tiger muttered. The elevator arrived. They entered.

“I was there when you started your mission with us, Tiger, even if I didn’t know your allegiances at the time.” Helena stared hard at him. “You were a mess.”

“I was not a mess,” Tiger lied.

Helena chuckled darkly. “Not only were you a prickly bastard, you were so… pensive.”

“Pensive.” Tiger almost wanted to laugh, but in his state, it would likely result in sobbing.

“You thought no one noticed how you’d just stare into space with that little frown of yours?”

She was saying things just to bother him now. “Little?”

“It’s a good thing I didn’t know he was your ex when we worked together,” Helena continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I probably would have punched him.”

“I can take care of myself, Helena.”

“No, you can’t.”

Pain swept through Tiger’s chest and he had to bite back tears. Helena must have been it, but she kept quiet. If Tiger were smarter, he probably would have filed his reaction away to examine later, but instead he tried to push it into a tiny corner of his mind that he would never visit again.

Helena sighed. “I hate to ask, but how did your talk with Lord go?”

“Badly.”

“They’re recruiting him?”

“I think so.”

“Fuck.”

“You suspected. Admit it.”

“Well, when I have to drag you out of a bathroom, that’s not the best sign.”

“If you tell anyone…”

“I won’t,” Helena promised. “But you should talk to someone when you feel up to it.”

Tiger held tightly to his composure. They reached the ground floor and stepped out. Muscle memory carried him through the security checkpoint, because his mind was finished. He placed the communicator back in his ear, strapped his watch to his wrist and slipped his phone into his pocket. And then that was it, until Helena pushed him to the car.

“I’ll talk to you later,” she said. “Take care of yourself. I mean it.” Then she walked off.

Dick waved at him through the car window. Tiger slid inside. He couldn’t quite get the seatbelt to click into place—his hands shook too much—so Dick did it for him.

“Are we ready, sirs?” Alfred asked from the driver’s seat.

“We’re good,” Dick said. “Let’s get out of here.” He leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder as Alfred pulled away from the curb. “How’d it go?”

“Can we discuss this later?” If Tiger lost his composure now, he would not find it again for a long time.

“Sure.” Dick twined their fingers together. “Didn’t expect to see Helena today, but at least it was a nice surprise.”

Tiger chose not to comment. “How was your appointment?”

“Fine, I guess. They did lots of tests and shone a light in my eyes so now everything kinda hurts. They’re gonna call when they have results, then maybe I’ll start trying some medication. Assuming they’ll work when the migraines were caused by machines and not the frailty of the meatsuits in which we live.”

Tiger chose to ignore the end of that sentence. “Do you think traditional medicine will work?”

Dick shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll try anything. Obviously, I couldn’t tell them why I’m getting these migraines, which might be a problem. So, trial and error, I guess. We’ve got connections with researchers, so maybe we can figure something out.”

Tiger, not for the first time, had a terrible thought that Checkmate, if willing, could probably help. He did not voice it.

After today, he was not sure Checkmate would give him anything… even if he had lost years of his life to an undercover mission on their behalf.

He had to stop thinking about it before he broke.

Dick nuzzled his shoulder. “I’m gonna try and nap for a bit. Maybe it’ll buy me some time before my head explodes.”

“My shoulder is your pillow,” Tiger replied.

Dick laughed softly. “Thanks.”

***

Dick had to go straight to bed when they arrived home. It was bad timing; he knew something was wrong with Tiger, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

The migraine had eased somewhat by dinnertime. Dick didn’t feel up to eating, but he could use the company. And check on Tiger. The man gave him space during his migraines, since it was hard to tolerate another person’s presence, but that had also robbed Tiger of one of his usual private spots. And Tiger had looked like he needed some privacy… and a listening ear.

A soft knock on the bedroom door interrupted his thoughts. Dick called for them to enter. Bruce stepped inside.

“How are you?” he asked quietly. He didn’t reach for the light switch. Dick was grateful. He could use a few more minutes in the dark.

“A little better. Was thinking about coming to dinner.”

Bruce sat on the bed with him. “I tried to speak with Tiger earlier. He asked if it could wait, and Cass insisted he train with her instead. So, I called Helena.”

“Did she know anything?”

“She knew a little. Unless Tiger misread the situation, which I think is unlikely, it seems Checkmate will proceed with recruiting Bannon.”

Dick’s nausea returned. He had to take a few deep breaths. Bruce put a hand on his back, grounding him.

“So, that’s it,” Dick said when he felt well enough to speak. “They’re doing it. They’re fucking doing it.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce rubbed his palm across Dick’s back in wide, slow circles.

“Tiger just took down Spyral for them, and this is how they repay him?” Dick glared into the darkness, thoughts spinning too fast for his head to take them in his condition. “Shit, just take me out of the equation for a second here. This guy repeatedly tortured and psychologically tormented one of their agents… and they’re cool with having him on board? How the fuck does that make any sense?”

“They don’t want to give up a resource they think they can use.”

“That’s the fucking problem. They’re not seeing Tiger and Bannon as people. They’re seeing them as resources.”

“You’re not wrong, Dick.”

The remnants of Dick’s migraine were quickly forming into a rage headache. “This is fucked.”

Bruce gently squeezed his shoulder. Dick tried to breathe out some of his anger; it wasn’t productive right now, and he didn’t want to make Tiger feel any worse when they would next be in the same room.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bruce said. “I’ve had dealings with Checkmate in Gotham before. If they want those dealings to remain cordial, they need to respect this family.”

The significance of what Bruce said was not lost on Dick. “So, when are you telling Tiger he’s part of the family?”

“When we train together. Let me know when you think he’s up to it.” Bruce got up and offered Dick a hand. “Tiger and Cass are training in the batcave. We’ll grab them on the way to dinner.”

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 22

@iontorch @dick-rarepairs

See notes for story masterpost and AO3 links.

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3k

Summary: Dick and Tiger settle back into Wayne Manor, but between Dick's new ailment and the secret they're keeping from Bruce, they're just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Notes: I LIVE. Okay, since I don’t trust Tumblr to let this post appear in the tags if I add links, I’m going to add masterpost and AO3 links in a reblog, so check the notes.

***

Chapter 22

As the days passed, Dick waited for another migraine to come along and ruin his life again. It felt like everyone was watching him with bated breath, expecting him to drop any second... Dick most of all. Tim, at least, tried to make himself useful by going over Dick's symptoms to help him figure out his warning signs for when the attack finally did come.

Tiger had clammed up since that last conversation about the shooting. That was never a good sign. The man was a classic bottler when it came to his emotions and wouldn't entertain further discussion. It would all come to a head eventually. Dick was not looking forward to it.

What made matters worse, possibly, was that Bruce was being oddly polite to Tiger. It was possible he genuinely felt bad for kicking Tiger out, but there was also a chance he was trying to lull Tiger into a false sense of security. It wasn't working. Tiger was more anxious than ever. Unless that was Bruce's plan. Dick hoped not. That was a douchey kind of plan.

Dick came to dinner one night in a not-so-great mood. Irritable for no reason. He'd already snapped at Tiger three times in the past hour, and he'd deserved exactly none of them. And his neck was kinda stiff, which made sitting in a dining chair a rather annoying experience.

Tim took one look at him, pausing in the motion of cutting his steak, and said, “You know irritability and neck stiffness are pre-migraine symptoms, right?”

“Who says I'm irritable?” Dick replied, irritably. Internally, though, his mind was a litany of shit shit shit.

“You’ll probably have, like, twelve hours from when the symptoms started,” Tim said, looking back down at his plate. “Maybe more. Hard to say. Try to get a good night's sleep if you can.”

Dick wasn't sure how he was supposed to sleep with his neck like this. Tiger was staring at him, trying to catch his eye, but Dick didn't feel like talking. Especially not after snapping at him so much.

Tiger made a show of shrugging and piling brown rice onto both their plates. Dick also received a generous load of vegetables and not as much meat as he probably would've liked. But he'd already been an asshole today, so he shut up and took it.

Dick excused himself as soon as he was finished, knowing that he was not good company tonight. Tiger, in a fit of masochism, followed him back to their room.

Then, in what could only be a lack of self-preservation, he took Dick's hands and led him to the bed. “Sit. Let me help.”

“Look, I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to be around me. I don't want to be around me.” The words came out way sharper than he'd intended. Naturally.

“Hush.” Tiger knelt on the bed behind him and dug his thumbs into the hardened muscles on the back of Dick's neck. “I forgive you.”

“Ugh.”

Tiger kissed the top of his head. “I am trying to spoil you.”

“I don't deserve it.”

“I do not care.”

Dick shut up and let him rub his neck. It helped a bit. A warm shower later, he felt almost like himself.

Sleep was elusive. Dick kept shifting position, unable to get comfortable. Tiger had ended up on the edge of the bed, well away from his fidgeting. Dick was kind of offended but couldn't really be mad because Tiger had done that in his sleep.

He was still kinda mad.

Dick fell into a fragile kind of sleep eventually, flitting in and out when Tiger got up to pray. He woke in the daylight, eyes grainy and brain fogged. Right. Fatigue. Another fun symptom. Apparently even sleeping made him tired now.

Tiger was eating a bowl of oatmeal on the bed, legs crossed with a huge photo album in front of him. “Good morning.”

“Mmph.” Dick rubbed his eyes, which helped a tiny bit. “Is it morning?”

“Barely.”

Dick used Tiger's arm to haul himself into a sitting position, slumping against his shoulder. “Whatcha looking at?”

“Jason stole a photo album Alfred kept of your first few years as Robin.”

Dick rubbed his eyes again, until he could see the photos. Oh. Oh God. The green underpants. It was actually a leotard at least fifty percent of the time, but no one believed him.

Look, it wasn't that Dick was ashamed of his childhood fashion choices. It was just... well... everyone was ashamed for him.

“Bastard,” he muttered. “I'm gonna show you his album.” He dug his chin into Tiger's shoulder. “Nice breakfast. Where's mine?”

Tiger leaned over and grabbed another bowl from the nightstand. “I was about to wake you. Here.”

There were spiced pears in the oatmeal, which lifted his mood a little bit. But he still felt kinda fuzzy and doubted that would improve.

There was one photo in the album that Tiger paused over. It was a selfie, in a way. Dick-as-Robin making a face in a funhouse mirror. Alfred had seen the mask camera footage and liked it.

“Where is the camera?” Tiger asked.

“In the mask. It was a prototype at the time. The lenses broke constantly so we had to carry spare masks and cowls in our belts.”

“Wait.” Tiger's eyes went wide and his face turned the most worrying shade of grey. “You have cameras in your masks? Does Jason have...”

“Jason has a few,” Dick said. “He only wears the cam-masks when he's working with us.”

“So there is a video of Alia...”

The shooting. Fuck.

“Jason would've thought of that,” Dick said, trying to sound sure, even if he was kinda panicking. “Right?”

Tiger sighed and shoved more oatmeal into his mouth. Good idea. Dick did the same. Soothing his panic with breakfast. They kept flipping through the album with a detachment born out of preoccupation.

As soon as Dick had scraped the last bite out of his bowl, Tiger snatched it off him. “I'll take these to the kitchen. And find Jason.”

“Yeah. Do that.” Dick wanted to trust Jason had remembered. If not... Bruce would have seen the footage by now.

God damn it.

Dick took a piss while he waited and then spent a few minutes flipping through the album, tracking Robin's fashion evolution over the years. And the Discowing outfit. He still thought the high collar was pretty cool, no matter what anyone else said. He just couldn't turn his head as much as he would've liked. Still, some of Bruce's old costumes had the same problem.

There was just something in him that made him desperate to defend even the most questionable of fashion decisions. It didn't matter if he had been questioning them himself. The instant someone else teased him, he had to take it all the way.

Voices erupted in the hallway.

“Maybe I just don't like the way you're trying to corner him.” Jason.

“That is not what I—”

“You're not fooling anyone, Bruce. You've had it out for him from the moment he entered the city.”

“This is not a productive conversation.” Tiger.

“Right?” Jason said. “You prepared to say whatever you wanted to say in front of Dick? You think he's gonna be happy?”

“You're being dramatic,” Bruce said.

“Am I, though? Am I?”

“But if you wish to be involved in this discussion, I have plenty of questions for you, too.”

“I've answered your questions already. Not my fault you didn't like the answers.”

“I am missing some context in this conversation,” Tiger said.

“So am I!” Dick yelled impulsively.

There were a few horrible seconds where no one breathed a word. Then Tiger, Jason and Bruce entered the room. Tiger and Jason at least had the grace to look sheepish.

“Is someone going to explain what the hell is going on?” Dick said. “Quickly, if you don't mind. Not sure how much time I have before my head explodes again.”

“Jason's mask camera footage is missing,” Bruce said. Well. That answered that question.

“I told you already,” Jason complained. “The equipment's been on the fritz for weeks.”

“You should've had it fixed.”

Jason shrugged. “You don't trust me with your stuff and Tim was mad at me again. What was I supposed to do? Steal your shit? I only do that when I'm really mad at you.”

Dick had a distinct feeling Jason was lying his ass off. He also had a feeling Bruce saw right through him.

Tiger leaned against the closet door, arms crossed, watching the exchange with a muscle twitching in his jaw. Dick would trust him on a battlefield, but he wasn't so sure how well he was gonna hold up in a war of words over something he already felt terrible about. Jason wasn't gonna budge. Dick certainly wouldn't. But Tiger...

“I find it convenient that your equipment failed on that night in particular,” Bruce was saying.

“Sorry. I forgot to pencil it in.”

“Do you let your grapnel gun wear down like that?”

“No, because I would die. Again.”

Bruce's face twitched; he hated it when Jason brought up the dying thing. “Jason. That's not—”

“Oh, am I playing dirty again? Sorry. Force of habit.” He was blatantly not sorry. “Sometimes you gotta prioritise the important stuff. You never look at my mask cam anyway.”

“Because I never know when you're wearing it.”

“Then why did you bother looking this time?” Jason was smiling now, but it wasn't a pleasant one. “Seems to me you were looking for something specific.”

“I deserve to know what happened when someone dies on my watch.”

“I told you what happened. Is my word not good enough?”

“No. It's not.”

“Bruce,” Dick said, before this could spiral further, “I was there, too, you know.”

“You didn't see what happened.”

It wasn't worth arguing. Bruce knew what he was talking about. Good old blood spatter analysis, ruining everything.

“I saw Jason holding Tiger's gun.” Dick wasn't about to let this go without a fight, though.

“That proves nothing. And evidence has conveniently disappeared. Where did Tiger's clothes end up?”

Tiger still looked kinda grey from earlier. It was probably best he wasn't talking much, because Dick honestly didn't know if he could keep the lie going.

Jason, bless him, kept fighting. “Well, fuck me for getting him out of that blood-soaked shit. Not like I was thinking about how you were gonna be a giant asshole over this. My bad.”

“You haven't told me where his clothes are.”

“Gone. They were wrecked. Maybe if you'd asked in a timely manner, you could've examined them.” Jason actually sounded convincing. Dick tried not to get his hopes up. Bruce wasn't called the World's Greatest Detective for nothing.

“This is all rather convenient,” Bruce said. “Your spare gun jammed, recording equipment failed and vital material evidence happened to disappear, all on the same night.”

Could they have done this better? Given the circumstances, could they have found a way to keep Tiger out of this without tripping Bruce's coincidence meter? Dick wasn't sure there was. If only Jason hadn't been wearing his mask cam that night.

Still, Bruce didn't have concrete evidence. He just had a pile of coincidences that could mean someone was hiding something. Certainly not enough for a legal conviction or possibly even a trial in the first place, but that was not what they had here.

Bruce didn't need incontrovertible proof to believe Tiger had helped kill Alia. All he needed was enough doubt in Jason's version of events.

“Enough,” Tiger said.

Bruce rounded on him, staring silently. He didn't need to speak. Dick and Jason shared a grimace behind Bruce's back.

“There were three shooters,” Tiger continued, crossing his arms tighter across his body. Dick could see the slightest hint of a tremor. “Jason, Helena... and me.”

Okay, so they were doing this now. Things were still salvageable. Maybe.

“He saved my life,” Dick added. “The three of them only had a split second to do something.”

“Murder is never the solution.”

“Then tell us, O Wise One,” Jason snapped, “what would you have done with fuck-all time to save your favourite son?”

“I'm not his favourite,” Dick muttered. They ignored him.

“I would not have resorted to murder.”

“That's not what I asked,” Jason growled. “Dick is on the floor, literally cornered, back against a wall. Daedalus's gun practically touching him. He won't miss. You have a second to do something and you don't have a good enough angle to hit his gun. If Daedalus takes over Dick's mind, he dies. If the gun goes off, he dies. If you spook the bastard, the gun will go off anyway and Dick dies. So tell me, with all your boundless wisdom, what could we have done in that second to save Dick's life without killing Daedalus? The woman he possessed isn't even a factor. She was a goner already.”

Tiger flinched. Dick wanted to go over and squeeze his hand, but that would just draw Bruce's attention while Jason tried to divert it.

“Remote-controlled batarang,” Bruce replied.

“Yeah, we didn't have one of those. Even if we did, setting it up would take time we didn't have and he probably would've heard it coming.”

“The fact remains,” Bruce said, turning back to Tiger. “You hid this from me.”

“He wasn't even there when I told you what happened,” Jason said. “You gonna get mad? Get mad at the right person.”

“People,” Dick corrected. “I helped Jason mess with the evidence.”

“You were a backseat driver, more like.”

“Stop it,” Tiger muttered.

Dick's fingers were tingling a little, which was not a good sign. He concentrated extra hard on speaking, because he was not about to let this fucking migraine muddle his words while he still had a choice.

“Tiger,” he said, “you didn't want us to lie for you.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “And yet he allowed it.”

Dick put his left hand on the bed, leaning into it to keep his balance. Even sitting was starting to get a little fraught. Fuck's sake.

“Bruce,” he said, “stop it. You've directed exactly none of this pissiness at me even though I was actively involved in the lie.” He had to take a second to get his mouth around his next sentence, holding up his right arm, which obeyed him enough, so they wouldn't talk over him. “That's why we lied. Jason and I knew you would be harder on him than anyone else.”

“Same shit, different day,” Jason said. “He was like this when he kicked Tiger out and he hasn't learned a damn thing.” Jason's voice was a touch louder than Dick's head liked right now.

“Bruce has a point,” Tiger said quietly.

“He's selectively applying that point,” Jason replied. “How about it, boss? If you're gonna be shitty to Tiger, then you should be just as shitty to me.”

“You are not dating my son,” Bruce said.

“I'm a grown-ass man, Bruce,” Dick said.

“And I happen to be your son,” Jason added. “Legally, anyway.”

“You're an adult in control of your own actions,” Bruce said. “You have made it clear that I cannot control you.”

“Uh, hello?” Dick waved his fingers, which didn't really want to cooperate. “I'm the eldest, and you're acting like I'm a teenager with a bad influence for a boyfriend.”

“Difference is,” Jason said, “he actually cares about you.”

Bruce looked like he'd been slapped. “That's not—”

Jason grinned, but it looked more like a grimace. “Am I wrong?”

Bruce was not often a man lost for words. He sometimes preferred to let his actions speak for him, but it was rare that he truly had no idea what to say or do. Witnessing it now was unsettling.

Any other time, Dick might've let Bruce work through it on his own. Things with Jason were complicated, and sometimes interfering made matters worse.

But he was really having trouble sitting up and there was a distinct numbness on the right side of his face, and down his arm. And there was a pounding building up in his head.

In the silence, Dick caught Tiger's eye. The man's features hardened, and he put himself between Bruce and Jason. Probably not the safest idea, but Dick couldn't think of another way. Damn brain fog.

“Enough,” he said. “This is not a productive conversation.”

“You do not get to tell me when I am finished,” Bruce replied.

Jason glanced in Dick's direction. “Yeah? Well, I'm done.” He made a good show of storming out in a fit of temper, rather than giving his brother some space to lie down and die for a while.

“Jason...” Then Bruce followed him.

Well, that was one way to clear a room.

Tiger fetched Dick a glass of water. Apparently a pack of straws lived in Dick's nightstand now. He wasn't sure when exactly they appeared, but they made drinking a little easier with only half a face.

“Anything else you need?” Tiger asked softly.

Dick got him to help him into the bathroom. He wasn't sure how much he'd be moving in a few minutes. He also may have thrown up in the sink a little bit while he was in there.

Then Tiger helped him lie down. “There is a pager here,” he said, lifting the little thing from the nightstand. “Do you want me with you? If not, the pager will put you in touch with Alfred if you need anything.”

Dick waved him away with his good hand. He didn't want to put Tiger through this if he didn't have to. Besides, when he was at his worst last time, he couldn't even stand the sound of Alfred breathing.

Tiger helped him put a sleeping mask on and placed a bucket on the floor. Then he kissed Dick's hand, leaving him to his misery.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 24

Masterlist (I’m going to experiment with internal links and see if tumblr will disappear this chapter from the tag if I do this)

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 5.5k

Summary: Secrets in Wayne Manor rarely remain secret. Tiger has tough decisions to make.

Notes: I'm making up my own scraps on canon because I have no idea what canon currently looks like. And, honestly, canon sucks like 75% of the time anyway. So there.

Warnings: references to alcohol, references to mental health issues. These are mostly addressed in passing.

****

Chapter 24

Tiger used to be good at multitasking. His life had depended on it as a double agent for Checkmate. Now, trying to juggle Dick’s condition, Bruce’s knowledge that he’d shot Alia, his own guilt and the looming issue of Checkmate threatened to send him into a breakdown.

He was beginning to understand why Jason drank so much, and that made him increasingly grateful for his faith. It was the only thing holding him together some days. Taking time out to pray and read the Quran forced him to slow his thoughts and direct them away from self-pity and anxiety. Thus, Tiger found himself sticking to his prayer schedule much more diligently than he had in a while. He asked Allah’s forgiveness for his lapse, and the peace he found in prayer seemed to tell him that forgiveness had been granted.

Praying alongside Damian was the only time the world felt even remotely stable.

As soon as he stepped out of the room and Dick wasn’t there to bother him, however, the world turned sideways again. Even if Dick were awake, he likely wouldn’t have the strength to drag himself out of bed for a few more hours at least.

Damian pinched his arm. “Alfred will have begun making breakfast. We should help him.”

Tiger managed a smile. “Dick tells me your ‘help’ means sitting at the counter and criticising everyone’s cooking.”

“If a talentless nobody from Gotham can be paid to tell other people how to cook, why am I not allowed to do the same?”

Tiger had no idea who exactly Damian was referencing, but it didn’t matter. “A compelling argument. Lead the way.”

“I heard you shot Agent 8 before she could turn Grayson into a puppet,” Damian said as they walked.

“And where did you hear that?” Tiger was past the point of concern, since the worst had already happened. He was, however, curious.

“Todd and Drake are not as subtle as they think.”

“Is there anyone in this house who does not know?”

“No. Brown and Cain were eavesdropping as well. Pennyworth, of course, knows everything.”

“I see.” Tiger wasn’t sure if this made him feel better or worse. “And Barbara?”

“Gordon also knows everything. She was once an information broker.”

Tiger could feel the beginnings of a headache pinching his temples. “Do any of you have privacy in this house?”

“It depends.”

They reached the kitchen.

“Good morning, sirs,” Alfred said, whisking a bowl of batter. He asked Damian to chop some fruit and Tiger was tasked with cracking more eggs. They worked peacefully together for a while. Tiger had forgotten how good it felt to keep his hands busy and let his mind rest.

He was beginning to miss gardening. He hadn’t had the opportunity since the undercover mission in Gloria’s neighbourhood had ended. He was tempted to ask Alfred if he could help him in the garden but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. Tiger could survive most social situations, but this family was not like most.

Cassandra arrived not long after Tiger had begun to grate cheese for omelettes. Alfred had her set the table. There was little discussion, aside from the occasional instruction from Alfred. Tiger found himself enjoying the peace of it… and then immediately wondered what was wrong with him.

Except for prayer time, Tiger did not consider himself the type of person to simply rest on his laurels. There was always something to do. Moments of inactivity were to be avoided whenever possible. And yet… he was quite content.

“Well, ain’t this fucking domestic.” Jason leaned against the kitchen door. He was paler than usual and the set of his mouth suggested nausea.

“Language, sir,” Alfred said mildly, dropping a fizzing tablet into a glass of water and passing it to him.

“Sorry,” Jason mumbled before immediately gulping down the whole glass.

Damian scoffed. “I thought Drake was being dramatic when he said you were indisposed last night.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and then immediately clapped a hand over them. “Ow. Bad idea.”

“I heard that, Damian.” Tim slid past Jason to grab a handful of cutlery from the drawer with the hand not occupied by a coffee mug. He smiled at Tiger. “Cass recruited me into table-setting duty.”

“Bribed you, more like.” Jason stole the coffee mug and downed its contents. Tim retreated to the dining room without acknowledging what had just happened. Tiger did not know what to make of that.

“Will Master Dick join us for breakfast this morning, sir?” Alfred asked.

“I am uncertain,” Tiger replied. Dick had been on the mend last night, but sometimes the fatigue after his migraines would linger and make it difficult for him to leave his bed.

Alfred sent him off to check on Dick. He passed Stephanie on the way, who pointed a pair of finger guns at him and made a clicking sound with her tongue. He did not understand, but it seemed friendly, so he nodded at her.

Tiger opened the bedroom door quietly, but he needn’t have bothered. Dick was sitting on the bed, fully dressed and tying his shoelaces. “’Morning, sunshine.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Mostly human.” Dick sat up. “And very hungry.”

“Breakfast will be ready soon.” Tiger helped him up. “You should eat.”

“That’s the plan.” Dick stepped closer and planted a kiss on Tiger’s cheek. “How are you feeling?”

Tiger came very close to giving a kneejerk I’m fine, but Dick’s eyes narrowed and he instantly knew that was not an acceptable answer.

“I missed you this morning,” he admitted.

Dick sighed. “I know. I would’ve been there if I felt up to it.”

Tiger took his hands, squeezing gently. “I know. I do not blame you.”

Dick squeezed back. “So, where have you been?”

“Damian insisted we help Alfred prepare breakfast.” Tiger paused, wanting to say more but not quite knowing how to articulate the feelings swirling inside him.

“And?” Dick prompted.

“I liked it.”

“Tiger, are you telling me you didn’t realise you liked cooking?” Dick grinned, haltingly at first as if waiting for it to hurt. “Have you, like, forgotten everything that happened while we were fake-married?”

“I repressed it.” That wasn’t entirely truthful, but the face Dick made at him was worth it.

Dick snorted. “Of course you did. Come on. I need food.”

 Breakfast was weird. Jason was clearly hungover, so he wasn’t saying much, and Tim was preoccupied with his laptop. Dick was grateful for the quiet, since his head still didn’t feel quite right, but it was still disconcerting.

Then Steph went for the jugular. “Where were you last night, Jason?”

Tim sighed and kept typing.

Jason rubbed his eyes. “Mind your damn business.”

“Okay, just asking…”

Cass smacked her arm. Jason mumbled something about wishing he hadn’t gotten out of bed.

Damian rolled his eyes so hard his head moved. Mercifully, though, he just kept eating his omelette without adding to the conversation.

Last night felt like a bit of a fever dream to Dick. He wasn’t sure if it was coming off the migraine, or the fact Jason had spoken openly about his feelings that had done it. Both, probably.

Breakfast settled back into quiet, but an uneasy kind of quiet. Then the door squeaked open to reveal Bruce. Jason glared up at the ceiling before pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

Bruce took a seat and poured himself a cup of coffee. “How was your meeting with Duke last night?” he asked Tim.

Tim shrugged. “Fine. I talked to the Rows as well.”

“Did you ask that Cullen kid out yet?” Jason said.

Tim fixed him with a silent stare.

“What? He wants you to.”

Tim sighed. “I’m not having this conversation. Everyone’s doing fine, Bruce. Honestly, given how well they held the city the night we took down Spyral, you can probably afford to give them a longer leash.”

Bruce nodded silently and grabbed some oatmeal. “Anyone have something to report that we didn’t cover last night?”

“Oh, Catwoman’s showing her face again,” Steph replied. “Forgot to mention. I think she’s being a good girl, though.”

An exhausted look crossed Bruce’s face before he reset his expression. “We’ll see.” He visibly fortified himself with a spoonful of oatmeal. “Checkmate is increasing their presence in Gotham for the moment. I need everyone on alert.”

Barbara slipped into the room and took a seat.

“Has Helena given us any indication what they’re going to do with their Spyral prisoners?” Tim asked, looking up from his screen.

“They’re recruiting heavily,” Bruce replied. “It’s my understanding they haven’t decided what to do with Bannon yet. Bertinelli has strongly discouraged his recruitment, but her opinion may not matter.”

“I’ve spotted Helena a few times in Burnside,” Barbara added. “She doesn’t trust me at all, but she did mention she’s not sure Checkmate is listening to her about Bannon.”

Dick wasn’t sure what to do about that. Tiger could reveal himself as a Checkmate agent, but things were precarious enough already. But if he could convince them to avoid recruiting Bannon…

Tiger sighed. “I may be able to help.”

“May being the operative word,” Dick added. He didn’t know a huge amount about Tiger’s relationship with Checkmate, except he was trusted enough to undertake a long-term undercover mission in a rival spy agency on his own. That had to count for something, right?

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Is this about your affiliation with Checkmate?”

Tiger, to his credit, took that in his stride. “Yes.”

They stared at each other, and Dick was starting to wonder if an intervention would be required.

Jason cracked first. “Oh my fucking god just say something.”

“I need to report in to Checkmate regardless,” Tiger said. “They will ask for my report and I will have the chance to give recommendations.”

“Are we all just gonna skate over the fact Tiger’s literally been a Checkmate agent this whole time?” said Stephanie. “Like, am I the only person not keeping up?”

“Checkmate placed me in Spyral a number of years ago to stop them from finishing their mission,” Tiger explained flatly. “My goals aligned with Dick’s, even if our preferred methods did not. Fortunately, Dick was able to free Helena from Daedalus before I had to kill her.”

“Unfortunate for Agent 8 that she did not have the same opportunity,” Bruce said.

“We’ve already established Agent 8 was dead long before we got in the room,” Jason shot back.

A muscle twitched in Tiger’s jaw. Dick bumped their knees together.

“Can we focus on Bannon?” Dick said. “Tiger’s offering to explain to Maxwell Lord, and probably Amanda Waller if we’re being honest, that recruiting Bannon is a bad idea. Which it is. Shall I show off my scars? Or we could just wait until the next time I get a migraine?”

Bruce exhaled loudly through his nose. “Point taken. Tiger, if you think you can convince them, I won’t stop you. Do you intend to rejoin Checkmate?”

“No,” Tiger replied.

Jason raised his hands. “Well, that settles it. Now, out of respect to those of us with killer headaches, can we all shut up now?”

But Bruce was still watching Tiger. “You remained loyal to Checkmate for the duration of a very long undercover mission, which provided ample opportunity to defect. Ultimately, however, you carried out your mission and destroyed Spyral. Why not return to Checkmate?”

Tiger had somehow managed to retain eye contact. “Perhaps I have learned Checkmate is no longer the right place for me.”

Bruce just watched him.

Dick had to say something. “Yeah, I’d say going back to the organisation that wants to recruit the guy who tortured the shit out of both of us isn’t that appealing.”

“Even if I wanted to,” Tiger added, “it is unlikely I would pass their reintegration tests.”

“They just deputise people in the field most of the time anyway,” Tim said, tapping on his keyboard again. “Checkmate can afford to let an agent retire every so often.”

Tiger twitched a little at the word retirement. It was probably the correct word, but Dick supposed he hadn’t really thought about it like that. Or much at all. They had been preoccupied of late.

“We can always use more help in Gotham,” said Steph. “I think Tiger would look great in spandex.”

Tiger raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation.

“We’ve had that discussion already,” Dick said. “He vetoed the spandex.”

“Most of us don’t even wear spandex anymore,” Tim pointed out, frowning at his computer screen. “I think it’s safe to say Dick was the only one who ever liked wearing it.”

“Being able to bounce a quarter off my own ass isn’t any fun unless everyone else knows I can do it,” Dick replied. Tiger frowned at him.

“Is this another idiom? It is a bad one.”

“Is there such a thing as a good idiom?” said Tim.

Dick put a hand over his heart. “You take that back.”

Tim rolled his eyes and went back to typing. “I am very sorry, Dick. Please forgive me.”

Tiger looked like he had no idea what was going on. Which was fair. He and Damian shared a look.

It was probably for the best when Cassandra spoke up to bring everyone back on topic. “Tiger needs backup.”

Bruce nodded. “You have a point. Tiger, could you arrange a meeting if I provided a cell phone?”

“Yes.”

“Do it. We will arrange backup once we know when you are expected.”

 It was a simple enough matter to call the external agent line and arrange a debriefing. Tiger didn’t typically use the phone line. It felt wrong to do it now. However, that was the technology Bruce had provided.

He was not sure what to make of this. He supposed it was not surprising to hear Bruce had known he was connected to Checkmate, but he still felt blindsided.

The matter of backup also had him on edge. He would have preferred Dick be on the mission, but that was not an option. Jason would likely not be chosen, either, especially now that his meeting had been scheduled during the day. He could not envision anyone from Dick’s family performing such a task in broad daylight.

Perhaps Helena was available.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dick had been lying in bed, watching the ceiling while Tiger had made the phone call. He had yet to fall ill today, but something didn’t seem… right. Tiger suspected he would have another attack tomorrow.

“I need to contact Helena,” Tiger said.

“For backup? Good idea. I’d go myself, but…”

“You are allergic to daylight.”

“Exactly.” Dick scowled; it didn’t suit him. “Fuck me… I really hope this isn’t permanent. I’m bored shitless. Seriously. I can’t even read.”

“Could you ever?”

“Oh, by all means, kick me when I’m down.” Dick pinched his leg. “This what they teach you at Checkmate?”

“Yes, we are trained to hurt your feelings. Yours specifically.”

“I can believe it.” Dick stretched. “You got a way to talk to her? I’ve got a communicator in here somewhere.”

“Yes, but Bruce may prefer to contact her himself… if he trusts her enough.”

“Ugh. I’ll talk to him.” Dick sat up slowly. “He’s probably down in the cave again.”

“The screens will give you a headache.”

“I’m already on the way to another migraine anyway.” Dick stood up and stretched. A joint cracked. “Ooh, that was nice.”

“Should I come with you?”

“Probably not.” Dick leaned down to kiss him. “I’ll be a few minutes. Probably. If you could go check on Jason, that’d be great. He’s been more off than usual since he and Bruce talked yesterday.”

“I am not the right person to address the problem.” Tiger knew very little about their problems, with the obvious exception that Jason died, came back and wanted the Joker dead.

“You don’t need to talk about it.” Dick crossed to the door. “Just hang out with him or something. Please?”

Tiger sighed. “Fine.” Saying no to Dick was hard at the best of times. So while Dick headed to the Batcave, Tiger knocked on Jason’s door.

“I’m not here,” Jason said.

“That is not how it works,” Tiger replied.

“Whatever. Come in.”

Tiger pushed the door open. Jason was sitting on his bed, twisting a screwdriver into the side of his grapple launcher. His face had more colour in it than it had this morning.

“Feeling better?” Tiger said dryly.

Jason snorted. “You really want the answer to that?” He set down the launcher. “Dick put you up to this?”

“Yes.”

“Well, at least you’re honest.” Jason patted the bed. “May as well come here. Should we braid each other’s hair? Talk about boys?”

Tiger sat down. “Are those normal activities for you?”

“Nah, I normally just scroll Grindr in my boxers while watching soap reruns.”

“Riveting.”

Jason shrugged. “Most of us aren’t one half of a battle couple.”

“A what?”

Jason laughed. That seemed like a good thing, but Tiger didn’t know him well enough to be certain. Dick would probably like it.

“You and Dick. Battle couple. You know, if you were in a movie you’d be standing back-to-back with a cool pose ready to kick some ass.”

That forced a single, bitter laugh out of Tiger without his permission. “Maybe we were like that before we left Spyral.”

“And now?”

“I’m not sure either of us will ever fight again.”

Jason lifted a knee to his chest and rested his chin on it. “Okay, so maybe if we can’t find medicine for Dick, or if he doesn’t get better on his own… he might not make it back into the field. But what’s stopping you?”

“Are you sure you want to have this conversation?” Tiger hadn’t even talked about this properly with Dick. He wasn’t sure where he stood.

“I asked.” Jason fixed him with a steady stare. Tiger had read his file; he was meant to have bluer eyes than this, but they were a disconcerting teal-green. Perhaps it was the Lazarus Pit. Either way, his stare was… penetrating. Tiger found himself answering.

“I don’t enjoy battle as much as I once did,” he admitted. “I am also experiencing… ethical concerns.”

“About killing people?”

“Yes.”

Jason sighed. “Look. I might not be the best guy to give advice, but maybe you should train more with Bruce. He’s a piece of work, but he’s a master of nonlethal combat. And maybe he’ll grow the fuck up if you spend more time with him. Hasn’t worked for me, but…”

It was worth considering, but that wasn’t the only thing on Tiger’s mind. He wasn’t sure he had the mental strength to work in the field anymore. It was easy enough to think it, but saying it was another matter entirely.

Jason was still looking at him. “I’ll be level with you, Tiger. We can always use an extra pair of hands here, but we’re not hurting for help. There are some new kids on the block who help out here and there. If you wanted to join us, I’d welcome you. But… it’s not for everyone. And, honestly? Every time someone successfully retires from this life, that’s a good thing. It proves to the rest of us that it’s possible. Because for some of us, the thought of not going out there every night is unthinkable. I mean, we literally don’t know how we’d cope without it. It’s a fucking addiction. So if in the end you decide you don’t want to fight anymore? Good for fucking you.”

“You’ve thought about retiring?”

“When I’m really fucking drunk, usually.” Jason groaned, rubbing his face. “And sometimes when I’m hungover. But I don’t think I’m ready for that. You talked about this with Dick yet?”

“No.”

“I get it. He’s got his own shit going on. You should talk to him, though.”

“I might, once we know if his migraines are treatable. I do not wish to add to his worries.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Dick likes it when you tell him shit. He’s like that with all of us.”

“Fine. If it comes up, I’ll tell him. If not…”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t know why I bother giving you relationship advice anyway. What the hell do I know?”

“Aside from how Grindr works? I have no idea.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, I set myself up for that one.”

 Dick almost took his sunglasses down into the Batcave, but then he wouldn’t be able to see shit. So he didn’t. Bruce was parked at the computer, frowning at the screen like he often did. He just looked like that, even when he wasn’t pissed.

“I used to think you were mad when you glared at the screen like that,” Dick said, leaning against a part of the computer that kept him mostly angled away from the worst parts of the screens.

“Hm.” Bruce pressed a button and the screens dimmed a little. “You did often ask what you’d done wrong when you were little.”

“Yeah, because I thought you were pissed at me.”

Bruce glanced up at him. “Stephanie tells me I have that kind of face.”

“Well, yeah. You do.”

Bruce’s concentration frown eased a little. “Better?”

“I mean, it’s like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound, but it’ll do.”

Bruce managed not to roll his eyes, but it did look like his soul left his body for a second. “Did you need something?”

“Tiger arranged a meeting with Checkmate. It’s during the day, so he was thinking Helena might make good backup instead of one of us. She’ll attract less attention.”

“And your thoughts?”

“I agree with him. Most of us are either too famous or too dead. And, I mean, a media frenzy about me taking my new boyfriend out on the town wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s ever happened, but I’m currently allergic to daylight, so…”

Bruce glared at his screen again, and this time he did seem irritated. “I’ll consider it. Cass or Stephanie are also an option.”

“We need Helena,” Dick said firmly. “If you want someone with her, that’s fine, but this is Tiger’s party. I think he should have a say in who gets invited.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Okay.” That was easier than Dick had expected. “You know I get suspicious when you give in too easily, right?”

“I know.”

“I’m naming my next migraine after you.”

“I’m honoured.” Bruce typed something into the computer. “I imagine Tiger would prefer to contact Bertinelli himself, and that you intended to give him access to your communicator. You can give him one of the spares. Have Tim code it to give him a unique identifier.”

Dick would normally do it himself, but he couldn’t look at a screen for long enough. “Will do. What are you working on?”

“Updating crime files. Tim’s been playing with an electronic-paper display e-reader that you can use when your eyes are up to it. I’ll send some audio files if you like. The reader should nearly be ready for you.”

“Thanks.” That’d be easier on his head than a backlit screen, even if he still couldn’t use it when things got bad. “So.”

“Yes?”

“You knew Tiger was Checkmate.”

“Yes.”

“What gave it away?”

“Helena’s files on the Checkmate attack on Spyral were redacted, but I put the pieces together.” Bruce leaned back in his chair. “Tim may also have hacked into Checkmate’s systems temporarily. No identifying information, but it did confirm Checkmate had an agent inside Spyral. Tiger made the most sense, given all else I know about him.”

“So you didn’t actually know for certain.”

“I was certain enough.”

Bruce had been doing this work long enough to have developed a keen instinct for his things, so Dick couldn’t say that he was entirely surprised. He often uncovered the truth long before he had enough evidence to prove it. Dick had the same instincts, though he’d never claim they were as developed as Bruce’s were.

“Okay,” Dick said. “What are you going to do about it?”

“I haven’t decided.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need some indication where your head’s at.”

Bruce switched off the computer screens and swivelled the chair to face Dick properly. “I don’t like being lied to. You know that. However, these past few months have demonstrated to me that a nuclear response is not the most effective.”

“No shit.” Dick couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice.

“So, he was going to kill Bertinelli?”

“It wasn’t personal. And he backed off as soon as I’d resolved the situation myself.”

“By taking Daedalus into your own head and kicking him out, yes. I read your report.” Bruce actually cracked a smile. “That sounds like you.”

“Believe me, I would’ve tried it again if I’d had the strength for it.”

“Hm.” Bruce rubbed his jaw. “That is the other problem. Whether it was intended or not, he did kill Agent 8 and lie about it.”

“No, he let us lie about it for him. It might not make a difference to you, but it does to me. And he did save my life, so…”

Bruce’s frown came back. “Yes. I’m aware. That makes it more difficult.”

“He wants to change, Bruce. He’s been trying. I don’t know if he even wants to do field work anymore, but he should train with us. Cass learned better. So can he.”

“I’ll consider it. After he meets Checkmate.”

“Fine. But I’m gonna tell Cass, and she’ll hold you to it.”

Bruce chuckled. “Clever.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

“I’m aware. I trained you.” Bruce got up. “How are you feeling? Up to some training?”

“Keep the lights down and we’ll find out.” Dick had missed the exercise, and it wasn’t every day he got to train with Bruce anymore.

It probably wouldn’t be a long session, but Dick could use some endorphins. Maybe a little adrenaline wouldn’t go amiss either. Lying around anticipating his next migraine had left him with a sense of lethargy. It took everything in him not to broadcast that to the world, but it was there.

Bruce kept the lights in the training ring dim, but enough to see by. They wrapped their hands and warmed up. Dick’s joints complained a little after so much inactivity, but they loosened up as he worked them.

“Tell me about Agent 8,” Bruce said once they were warm and facing each other.

“What’s there to tell that isn’t in my reports?” Dick jabbed lightly.

Bruce dodged. “I want to hear it from you.” He jabbed back. “Everything.”

Dick blocked; it hadn’t been a powerful hit. “Well, her name was Alia. She’s—she was—from Smallville.” He hit back.

Bruce blocked him. “And yet it appears she knew little of Superman.”

“He’d probably moved to Metropolis by the time she was old enough to think about it.” Dick dodged another strike. “I’m not sure of her age. Anyway, she was Tiger’s mission partner when I arrived.” He struck, and Bruce blocked him. “I worked with them on the Old Gun mission. This was before Tiger would give me the time of day.”

“Hate at first sight?” Bruce kicked.

Dick dodged. “Funny. I made some mistakes on that mission, so Tiger had to save my ass. He was… displeased. Alia yelled at me a bit, but we still got along pretty well. If you, uh, know what I mean.”

Bruce paused, sighing. “Really, Dick?”

“You have a literal child with Talia al Ghul. Don’t judge me.”

“Hn. Point taken.” Bruce increased the pace of his jabs. Dick was still keeping up, which was nice. “So, she faked her death at the end of that mission.”

“Yeah. And then Tiger and I got partnered together, which was, uh, not ideal. Until we worked it out.” Dick tried something a little flashier, ducking under Bruce’s punch and kicking the back of his knee.

Bruce stumbled but corrected. “Good work.”

“Thanks.” Dick had to dodge another punch. “Alia was working for Dr Netz and Daedalus the whole time. She masqueraded as me and killed spies who were meant to be off-limits. Helena thought it was Tiger doing it for a while, so I may have punched him in the face and abandoned him on her orders. But then Alia lured Tiger to Italy to kill him. I got there in time but lost the fight. She was still pretending to be me, so I hadn’t quite put it all together at that point. She used a Hypnos kill switch to take me down.”

“And then Tiger led Helena to believe Checkmate was behind all this?”

“Yeah. Not sure why. I guess he let Alia go so he could try to track her movements, or maybe she manipulated his affection for her.” Dick tried for another feint, but Bruce anticipated him and hit him in the stomach. Dick backed off, bending over to suck in air.

“When do you think Daedalus possessed her?”

Dick straightened, taking one last deep breath. “After she faked her death. Less scrutiny.”

“I agree.” Bruce adjusted the bandages on his right hand. “Had enough?”

“Normally I’d say no, but…”

“Better safe than sorry.” Bruce unwrapped his bandages. “You’ll need a good cooldown.”

Dick freed his hands from the wrappings and threw them at Bruce. “Duh.”

They stretched together, massaging aches out of their muscles as they went.

“One thing I don’t understand is how Tiger went from hating you, to, well…”

“Being here?” Dick laughed. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

Bruce just looked at him.

“Okay, fine. I’m going to redact some details because talking about sex with you is still fucking weird, but…” Dick lay on his back in a semi-supine position and took a few breaths to get his heart rate back down. “It’s a good story. Starts with me nearly falling out of a window, to being fake-married in suburbia, to the weirdest debrief with Helena I’ve had in my life. Get comfortable.”

Bruce and Dick weren’t really the type to talk about relationships with each other, but maybe that needed to change. Dick was willing to try if Bruce was.

So Dick told his story and Bruce listened.

At the end of it, Bruce helped Dick to his feet. They’d been down here a while.

“Tiger should ask Alfred if he can help in the garden,” Bruce said.

“That’s your takeaway?”

“I have a lot of takeaways. I’m just saying Tiger could use an outlet and he seemed to enjoy gardening.”

Bruce wasn’t wrong, but…

“I never thought you’d be giving mental health advice, Bruce.”

“I’m trying new things.” Bruce clapped his shoulder. “Look. I know I’ve dragged my feet on this matter. I don’t like change.”

“Everyone knows that, B.”

Bruce frowned at him. “Respect your elders.”

“Too late.”

Bruce threw that topic away and kept going with his original point. “What I mean to say is, I trust your judgment. Tiger has been very helpful in the short time he’s been with us. I’m not going to pretend I’m comfortable with his past, but I understand I have been harsher than I needed to be.”

Dick didn’t need to say anything. He could feel his opinions beaming out from his eyes, and Bruce was able to read them.

“Yes, I know I’m stating the obvious, Dick. I’m trying to say Tiger can stay here as long as he likes.”

“Good,” Dick replied. “Because if he goes, I go.” He smiled, and knew it was the most passive-aggressive smile he’d ever given anyone in this family. “Just so we’re clear.”

“Message received. Now stop smiling like that. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna take a shower.” But Dick paused halfway up the stairs. “Oh, and you might want to tell Tiger all this. I could talk to him, but he’ll believe it more if he hears if from you. Just saying.”

“We’ll talk when there’s time,” Bruce promised. “Now go drink some water.”

Dick rolled his eyes. It hurt a bit, which wasn’t a good sign. But at least he’d accomplished something today. There were enough problems without Bruce and Tiger being at each other’s throats.

He kept walking.

“Oh, and Dick?”

He paused.

“You were right to be angry,” Bruce said, barely loud enough to hear. “I did not anticipate I would suddenly be unavailable to you while you were undercover. That was an oversight, but I have always trusted you to think for yourself. You relied on your instincts to see you through to the end. I am proud of you.”

That was nice, but the delay stung. “It would’ve been nice to hear that months ago, Bruce.”

“I know.” Bruce looked steadily at him. “I’m sorry.”

Dick had hoped, but doubted, he would ever hear Bruce say those words. A small part of him wanted to reject the apology and wallow in his anger some more, but the more mature side of him prevailed. Dick could hold a grudge with the best of them, but it never felt good.

He breathed. “Okay. Thank you.”

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 23

For story masterlist and AO3 links, see the “my tags and fics” page on my blog. This is part of the Human Connection series.

Tumblr removed my last chapter from the tags and I’m not sure why, so I won’t be reblogging myself this time or tagging anyone. We’ll see if that works.

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen (this chapter)

Length: 3.7k

Summary: Dick recuperates, Tiger has a visitor, and Jason engages in some very healthy coping mechanisms.

Notes: Warnings for alcohol abuse, allusions to the previous torture

***

Chapter 23

It was difficult to concentrate on anything while Dick was laid up in bed. Tiger found the manor stifling most days due to the problems with Bruce and the affections of an overbearing family. Add in the argument and Dick's condition, and he couldn't breathe while surrounded by those walls.

So he found himself outside again, by the back door, leaning against a stone railing likely older than most American architecture he had seen. The roof covered the area, which was fortunate, as it was raining today.

It rained often here, cleansing the air until it was cool and fresh. Tiger leaned over the railing, catching raindrops in his palm.

He was in no hurry to return indoors and face the consequences of that conversation in Dick's bedroom. Where would he go if he had to leave this time?

“Yes, Tiger,” came a familiar woman's voice. “Water is wet.” Helena threw a duffel bag at Tiger's feet. “Your things.”

“Thank you.” Tiger wiped his wet hand on his pants. “Who let you in here?”

“The old man who answered the door,” Helena replied, leaning on the railing on the other side of the stairs down to the manor grounds. Tiger was certain Helena knew Alfred’s name, but sometimes she didn’t like to reveal exactly how much she knew. “He mentioned Dick is suffering some side-effects from the machine.”

“Migraines,” Tiger replied. “Is the machine destroyed?”

“I made sure of it.”

“And the prisoners?” Tiger had been too worried about Dick to give them much thought, but now Bannon was on his mind. Death for that man would be ideal, but Tiger would settle for a lifetime in a high-security prison.

“I've been talking to Batman about that.” Helena gazed out at the manor grounds, frowning, which could either be a bad sign or utterly meaningless. She frowned often. As did Tiger. “Checkmate is our best option for dealing with them. They will likely recruit some who can be rehabilitated.”

“And Bannon?”

Helena sighed. “I don't know. I've been in touch with Checkmate to make sure they have all the information. They know he's a piece of work. But you know them better than I do.”

Tiger hadn't spent much time with Checkmate in several years, given the deep immersion required for his mission in Spyral. They were more principled than Spyral had been, but they were still a group that believed the ends justified the means. Tiger had once thought the same.

“They might want to use him,” Tiger mumbled. Bannon had an uncommon set of skills and an even less common temperament to match. “People like that are hard to find... and control.”

“I could still make him disappear,” Helena offered.

“Do not tempt me.” The thought of Bannon being allowed to keep working made Tiger feel lightheaded. The scar on his shoulder burned.

“I can make it look like an accident.”

“Helena, please.”

Helena held up her hands. “Okay. But if you change your mind...”

“Matron.”

“Message received.” Helena joined him at the railing, nudging the bag aside with her foot. “Checkmate wanted me to bring you one of their own.”

Tiger wasn't sure he wanted to hear Checkmate's message. He sighed, and waited for her to tell him.

“Apparently you never officially quit,” Helena said. “They want you to report to their Gotham headquarters for evaluation and potential reassignment.”

Tiger sighed. “Very well. I can resign in person.”

“Not so fast. You might need their resources to research Dick's condition.”

Tiger hated that she had a point. “Fine. I will debrief with them and ask for assistance. They owe me.” The thought of what would happen when Dick's family discovered he had been a double agent this whole time, however, landed heavily into his mind. “I may not be welcome here for much longer, even if Batman is unconcerned about my allegiances.”

“Oh?”

“He knows I shot Alia.”

“Well, shit.” Helena nudged Tiger's bag with her foot. “Listen. I got Gloria home to her family, so I have no more commitments. I'm staying in Gotham a while longer. If you need a place to stay, my couch is free.”

Tiger didn't know what to say to that. Helena had already helped him run from his problems in the past, and she was offering to do it again. But Tiger would not leave without a fight this time. The thought of being separated from Dick was unbearable. He could barely tolerate being in a different room out of necessity.

“I'm using an old Spyral frequency on my communicator,” Helena said. “Your first one, remember?”

A long time ago, but Tiger remembered. “I will contact you if needed.”

“How do you rate your chances of staying here?”

“I don't know.” Tiger leaned heavily against the railing, weathering a wave of exhaustion. “Bruce can be... stubborn. But the rest of the family likes me, for whatever reason. Dick and Jason won't let me go without a fight. If the others become involved, I can count on Damian at the very least. Possibly the others.”

“You could be okay,” Helena said. “It's hard to blindside somebody twice in a row.”

“Even if I am able to stay,” Tiger muttered, “Bruce can make life unpleasant. I don't know how I can...” He sighed. “Dick is not well. I cannot leave him.”

“Remember that when it gets hard,” Helena said. “Is he up to visitors?”

“Not right now.”

“All right. I'll just have to visit another time, remind Bruce I'm watching. Maybe I'll bring the new uniform I'm working on, since I no longer have any director duties to distract me.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Hang in there. And stay in touch.”

“I will try.”

***

The pain ebbed away after several hours of suffering, but Dick had to move slowly or risk his shitty leg crumbling beneath him. He couldn't quite figure out where it was sometimes. But there were plenty of walls in this place, and Dick knew how to drag an injured body.

Also, he was just plain bored. Reading and watching television were both out of the question; his head split with pain whenever he tried. The rest of the family was likely at dinner, but Dick's stomach hadn't quite settled yet.

Pain memory was a pain in the ass, but he had managed to hold onto enough of the conversation right before he'd been knocked flat. Bruce knew Tiger had helped shoot Alia, and that Jason had practically torn out his own heart on the process of defending him.

Dick still had his communicator, so he tuned it into Jason's frequency, not quite ready to put Tiger through the pain of seeing him in only a semi-recovered state. Jason could take it, and they needed to talk... well, as much as Dick was capable. Words still took time to form in his mouth.

“Jay?” he said into the communicator, leaning against the bedroom doorway. His arm wasn't too bad as long as he was looking directly at it.

“Up already?” Jason let out a long breath through the link. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

“Bored.”

He snorted. “Right.”

“Where are you?” Dick couldn't quite enunciate the words as well as he normally would, but he got the point across.

“Shouldn't you be asking Tiger?”

“Not yet.”

“Still look like shit, huh? I'm on the roof. No way you can make it with half your limbs out of commission.”

“Help me, then.”

“Fuck's sake,” Jason muttered. “Fine. Hope I'm not too drunk yet.”

Of course he was drinking on the roof. Dick would've loved to make a smartass comment, but he couldn't quite get his mouth around the words.

“Tim's room has the easiest foothold,” Jason said. “Kid should still be at dinner. Meet me there.”

Dick didn't comment on the use of Tim's name, rather than 'the replacement' or any of the similarly asshole-ish varieties Jason had used over the years. Jason would backslide the instant he said anything.

Jason sat sitting on the windowsill when Dick staggered his way into Tim's room. “Hey, loser. You look like shit.”

Dick rolled his eyes, grateful that the migraine hadn't affected his eye movement; that would be too far. “Thanks.”

Jason slid outside and helped Dick climb through, keeping a tight grip on his bad arm as they picked their way across the sloped surface and up to a flat point with a bucket full of beer bottles, some full, some empty.

Jason set him down in the middle of the flat section, up against a chimney, and sat opposite him with his back to a slope, snagging a half-empty bottle from the bucket. “Okay. You're up here. Now answer me this: the fuck, dude?”

“Should you be that close to the edge while drinking?” The sentence came easier than Dick expected. Good.

“Fuck off.”

“I can't.”

Jason grumbled under his breath and took a swig of his beer. Dick glanced down at the bucket. More than half the bottles were empty; he'd been here a while. It was just as well Jason could hold his liquor, then.

Dick waited until he'd finished the bottle and started on another before asking, “What happened while I was down?”

“I'm not drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Give it thirty seconds.”

“Were you always this much of a smartass?”

“Yes.”

“Ughh.” Jason took several more gulps and wiped his mouth. “Okay. Fine. Bruce kept being a shithead until I told him to shut the fuck up. Then Tiger disappeared to fuck knows where. He's still in the house, though. Don't freak out. Then Bruce tried to talk to me about shit.”

“How'd that go?”

Jason raised the bottle. “How do you think?”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I really fucking don't.”

“Drinking hasn't improved your temperament.”

“How would you know?”

Dick could feel his headache coming back just from this conversation. “Jason.”

“Don't Jason me.” Jason drained the rest of the bottle. Dick was really starting to worry about him. This thing with Bruce had been going on for years, ever since Jason came back. They'd never resolved it, and Dick was starting to wonder if they ever would. Maybe some things just weren't fixable.

That wasn't something Dick was prepared to accept, though.

Jason slammed the empty bottle into the bucket and opened the next. “Why are you even out here?”

“Didn't feel like dinner,” Dick replied. “And Tiger doesn't need to see me like this.”

“You're looking better already. Or maybe I'm just getting drunker.”

“It's both, Jay.”

“Yeah.” He took a long swig. “So, you've come to keep the family fuckup company.”

“You're not a fuckup.”

A laugh burst out of Jason, most definitely louder than he had intended. “Bullshit. The only reason Bruce hasn't been on my ass as much is because he's been busy with your boytoy.”

“Call Tiger that in front of him. I dare you.”

“Get me drunk enough and I will.” Jason reclined on his side, propped up on his elbow. It was probably a more stable position given his inebriation. “God damn it. You just had to go and get yourself injured, didn't you?”

“Wasn't planned.”

Jason wasn't listening. “Here I was hoping you'd come back in one piece and step back into being everyone's annoying big brother so I didn't have to do it anymore. But nooooo.” He tipped his head backwards and emptied the bottle into his mouth. “You go ahead and make everyone think you're gonna fucking die. And, like... you don’t die. But you're too damn sick to be yourself, so I'm stuck here filling your shoes in Bruce's house and none of us even know if this is a permanent thing or...” Jason dropped his face onto his arm. “Fuck, I'm an asshole. Pass me another bottle.”

“I think you've had enough, Jay.” Dick didn't trust himself not to drop the damn thing anyway.

Jason groaned into his arm. “I forgave him, you know. For not saving me.”

“I know, Jay.” Dick had reminded Bruce of this on several occasions in the past.

“But letting the Joker live... fuck. I don't know. It's just—it's a lot, okay?”

“I know that, too.” None of this was new information. Dick had struggled with this before, with what happened to Jason and Barbara. There were times he had been so angry he easily could've killed the Joker himself. He'd come close on several occasions.

“He would've done it if it had been you, you know. All his bullshit about how he really did want to kill him and had to stop himself or he'd, like, keep killing or whatever... he would've done it.”

“You don't know that, Jay.” Dick wasn't in the mood to fight over who was the favourite tonight. “He loves you.”

Dick was getting to the point where he hoped Jason wouldn't remember this in the morning. He wasn't great at comforting Jason even at the best of times. He tried, but he didn't have the frame of reference to truly understand where Jason was coming from. Bruce had made mistakes with both of them, but in different ways. Jason's death had altered the trajectory of his life, put him in direct opposition to Bruce and the rest of the family. They'd reached an uneasy equilibrium, where Jason didn’t involve them with the more homicidal aspects of his vigilantism and they didn't dig too deeply anymore.

That didn't work for Bruce. He took responsibility for Jason's actions, especially those that occurred within Gotham. Dick couldn't see a solution without one of them giving in, and Bruce and Jason were two of the most stubborn people he had ever known.

Jason wasn't a bad person. He just had very different ideas about how to deal with the worst criminals they encountered. In a way, it had prepared Dick for Tiger and, in turn, experience with Tiger had given Dick greater patience with Jason.

It was still hard to reconcile, even when Dick wasn't coming down from hours of pain.

Jason flopped onto his back. “Jesus Christ, I'm drunk.”

“You're just noticing now?”

“Ughhhhhhhh.” Jason threw an arm across his face. “Why the fuck are we talking about this? You trying to make me cry?”

“I won't tell.” Even if Dick was strongly tempted to tell Bruce that Jason was still really messed up about this. “Nice to know you care that much about the kids, though.”

“Someone has to. And you're...” Jason gestured vaguely in Dick's direction. “You know.”

“Why, Jason, you're almost responsible in your old age.”

“Fuck off.”

“I told you before: I can't.”

A chill wind picked up, jabbing through Dick's coat. The tip of his nose was turning into an icicle.

Jason groaned and sat up. “You should get inside. Don't need to get sicker on my account.” He had to put a hand down to stop himself from pitching sideways. “And I'm way too drunk to help you.”

Dick put in a call to Tiger, who didn't arrive alone. Tim had tagged along.

“You've got to stop using my window as an escape route,” Tim complained, pulling Jason to his feet. “How much did you drink?”

Tiger helped Dick stand, peering past him at the bucket. “That... looks like many empty bottles.”

“It is,” Dick confirmed.

Tim and Jason went down first. Despite his inebriation, Jason was steady on the slope, more so than he'd been on the flat section. Muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

Tiger pulled Dick close, kissing the top of his head. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Dick pressed his cold cheek to Tiger's shoulder for a moment. “Come on. Talk more inside. Tim'll get the bottles.”

Jason had sprawled on Tim's bed when they got inside. Tim slipped back out to grab the bucket of empty bottles, muttering under his breath the whole time. Dick lowered himself into the desk chair.

“Have you eaten?” Tiger asked.

“No. Still a bit queasy.”

“Better than I feel right now,” Jason muttered, pressing his hands over his eyes. “God damn, why did I drink so much?”

“We'd all like to know the answer to that question,” Tim replied, dumping the bucket by the window, slamming that shut. Dick flinched at the sound.

“I don't pry into your shitty coping mechanisms,” Jason mumbled.

Tim crossed his arms, leaning against the windowsill. “What'd I miss?”

“A lot,” Dick replied. He wasn't sure how much he wanted to tell Tim, or how much Tim suspected already. He was a smart kid, smarter than Dick by a huge margin. There was no shame coming in second to a certified genius. Well, third, behind Bruce... and possibly some of the others. Definitely Barbara. Dick knew a lot of smart people.

“Three shooters took down Alia and I was one of them,” Tiger said.

“Oh, I know. Jason did a really bad job hiding the evidence.”

“Had no time,” Jason muttered.

“Bruce knows, too,” Tiger added.

“Yeah, because you told him,” said Dick. He still wasn't sure how to feel about it. Some tiny part of him had been hoping Jason was gonna pull off something spectacular and throw Bruce off the scent.

“He already suspected.” Tiger fixed Tim with an odd look; Dick had a vague pain-fogged recollection of Alfred telling him they had spent some time together while everyone still thought he was having a stroke. “This doesn't bother you?”

“I heard what happened,” Tim replied, giving Tiger a steady stare in response. “It doesn't sound like you had many options. Or any. I hate killing as much as anyone else in this family, present company excluded, but I would've made the same decision in your shoes. I mean, if I had quick access to a gun. Which I normally don't.”

Tiger's expression was hard to read. Confused, maybe?

Tim shrugged. “I'm glad I didn't have to make that choice. Would it help if I talked to Bruce about it?”

“Maybe,” Dick said. “Jay and I have obvious reasons for being on Tiger's side. You don't.”

“I'll catch him after patrol tonight,” Tim promised. “If it helps, I think the others would understand, too, especially if they knew how close it was. Damian and I don't always see eye-to-eye on things, but I think this might be an exception.”

Dick really didn't want to think about close he had come to either dying, or being possessed and then eventually dying anyway. Judging from the way Tiger's body language had completely shut off—crossed arms, rounded shoulders, mouth set in a thin line—he didn't either.

Tim held up his hands. “We can deal with that tomorrow. You should go to bed.” He walked over to Jason and kicked his foot. “You, too. Thanks for putting us a man down tonight.”

Jason snored loudly. Tim watched him for a moment, before sighing.

“Bastard,” he muttered, shoving the bucket of bottles into Tiger's hand. “Go stick those in his room. I'm not catching the blame for this.”

Tim headed down to get changed for patrol, leaving Jason asleep in his bed. Dick and Tiger made their way to their room, detouring to put the bottles in Jason's room.

Upon entering their room, it became clear that Alfred had been in here. The bed was made, the whole room dusted and a bowl of fresh fruit sat on the desk. Dick grabbed a banana, recruiting Tiger to open it for him.

They sat on the bed together, Dick leaning into Tiger a little. Holding his body weight up with only half his limbs working properly was damn exhausting.

“Helena visited today,” Tiger said.

“I missed her? Damn it.”

“She'll be back.”

“Did she say anything interesting?”

“She said... many things.” Tiger ran a hand over his face, drawing attention to the dark circles under his eyes. “She returned my belongings. I think Alfred was going to... ah. There they are.” There was a duffel bag in the corner. “Checkmate has taken the agents who did not cooperate with us, including Bannon. They may recruit some of them.”

“And Bannon?”

“He might be one of them.”

“Fuck that.”

“Helena told them what he did.” Tiger closed his eyes, head downturned, and Dick was surprised he hadn't fallen asleep yet. “They also want me to report in for a debrief. And possible reassignment.”

“What are you going to do?”

“That depends. If they can help research your condition... I can be friendly. Otherwise, I will resign.”

“I didn't think you wanted to go back.”

“I do not.”

Dick rubbed his forehead, willing a stab of pain to go away. “Bruce has resources. We can—”

“Checkmate has other resources,” Tiger said. “I want to give you the best chance to recover.”

“You don't even want to be a spy anymore.”

“I want you to be in pain even less.” Tiger grabbed an orange from the bowl, digging into the skin to peel it. “They owe me for Spyral.”

“You think Maxwell Lord will see it that way?”

“I will make him see it that way.” Tiger plucked out a segment and handed it to Dick. “You missed two meals. Eat.”

Dick was nowhere near well enough for this argument, not after dealing with a very drunk, very emotional Jason. There was still a good chance he could puke all this fruit up anyway, which made talking a rather unattractive proposition.

“They will make me do a psychological evaluation,” Tiger said, passing Dick another segment. “It is unlikely I will pass, and therefore will not be cleared for field work anyway.”

“About time that PTSD was good for something.”

Tiger almost smiled. Almost.

Neither of them really felt up to sleeping yet. They'd tended more towards insomnia than nightmares recently. Talking about what happened hadn't really been on the radar, either.

Right now, it was just easier to lie side-by-side, hands intertwined, staring up at the ceiling. The whole thing hung heavily between them, a thick pane of glass pressing down on their chests. It would eventually shatter, and there was no telling how much damage it would do, but maybe they could start breathing again once it was done.

They weren't ready to take that chance yet. Dick still felt too damn fragile, and Tiger, though he'd fared better physically, was just as messed up on the inside... if not more.

They needed more time, and now they had to make sure they would have it.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 21

@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

Tag, in chronological order

Shiny Masterlist of the entire series (including AO3 link because I don’t trust tumblr to behave regarding external links)

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Teen, probably? I don’t know. There’s no sex anyway. (In this chapter)

Length: 5.4k (this chapter)

Summary: Dick and Tiger get some much-needed time together. Now that immediate danger is over, however, Tiger has far too much time to overthink things.

Notes: I don't think there are any particularly common triggers, but Tiger isn't in a great space mentally and Dick is still experiencing those symptoms (but they know why now so no more panicking). 

Hopefully my source on language stuff was correct. I think the spelling is sometimes a bit different. Fewer a's. Anyway, hope it's right or I'm gonna hate myself making that a plot point.

Chapter 21

Tiger was sorely tempted to sleep in his clothes, but Jason stopped him in the hallway right outside Dick's bedroom in the manor. Tiger supposed it was also his own room, but it was strange to think of that after being absent for months.

“Give me your clothes,” Jason said.

“What?” Tiger was too tired for this.

Jason leaned in, whispering so quietly Tiger could barely hear him. “Go put on a towel or something and give me your clothes. I need to get the evidence off. Then you need to have a year-long shower or something so we can be sure there's no evidence left on you.”

“I am not getting naked in front of you.”

“Half-naked, more like.”

He was missing the point on purpose. Tiger stared him down.

Jason snorted. “Fine, fine. You can hand me your shit through the door.”

Tiger rolled his eyes and stepped into the bedroom to strip off to his underwear, throwing clothes at Jason through the tiniest opening he could manage without jamming his own fingers.

“Dick never mentioned you were shy,” Jason teased.

“It is called modesty. Have you not heard of it?”

Jason laughed at him, his voice shrinking as he moved away. Was it really common to simply... walk around shirtless in front of people you were not intimate with? Or was it simply a characteristic of this highly unusual family?

Tiger was never going to find out. He didn't really want to. Modesty was sometimes impossible while in the spy world. Wearing the lungee helped, but he had fallen out of the habit recently. He would have to start again. He had left one of them in this room when he'd left. Perhaps it was still there... unless Dick had taken it with him to his apartment.

Tiger washed his hands thoroughly before searching, finding it folded neatly in a drawer. Dick mustn't have touched it. The man never folded anything neatly if he could help it. If that was there, then maybe his Quran was... ah. There it was. On the sparse bookshelf in the corner of the bedroom. It had been a simple enough task to clear a shelf so it could have a place by itself. Most of the books Dick had were old schoolbooks or romance novels with swooning maidens and oddly attractive noblemen. And a few circus arts photo books.

Tiger was suddenly grateful he hadn't had much time to pack when Bruce forced him to leave. Helena had returned the spare Quran to him that he had originally left at St Hadrian's. He wasn't sure where it was now. Helena might have taken his things with her before she detonated the explosives. He had been... preoccupied at the time.

The anxiety that had plagued him all day still had its claws in him. He wouldn't be able to sleep in this state. Well. He needed to wash up anyway, and he had not yet given his final prayer for the night, preoccupied as he was by the escape and Dick's subsequent brush with death.

Tiger showered, washing himself thoroughly, and took the ritual washing steps required for prayer at the end. Then he dressed and wound the lungee onto his head. His Quran hadn't collected much dust. Someone must have kept it clean for him. Damian, most likely. Dick had left the manor at some point after Tiger had.

Praying helped, like it usually did. It calmed him, even if the feeling of the anxiety ebbing left him exhausted. It had been a difficult day. He had earned that.

The calm carried him to sleep, but not so well that dreams did not haunt him. He woke breathless, disoriented, heart pounding but unable to remember why. There was a strange feeling of dread in his stomach and he felt around for Dick's presence. He wasn't there. Why wasn't he there?

Tiger curled up, breaths hissing ineffectively in and out. Do not panic. Where was Dick? He had the distinct feeling he had forgotten something.

Wait. Dick was fine. He was in the batcave med bay, fighting a migraine. Well, fine was perhaps inaccurate. But he was not in danger.

Tiger sat up, putting his head between his knees until he could breathe again. He reached over and found the digital clock Dick kept hidden in a drawer because the light annoyed him. It was after two in the morning. He had slept only a couple hours.

He needed some time to calm down. He couldn't remember his dreams this time, thankfully, but there was an empty feeling that made him think they had something to do with losing Dick. He needed to see him or he would not be sleeping more tonight.

He hoped Dick was asleep or at least feeling better. Tiger found a ridiculous fluffy bathrobe Dick owned but never wore and a pair of socks that held the cold at bay, just a little bit. The wooden floors of the hallway outside the bedroom still chilled the soles of his feet, so he moved faster, grateful no one was awake to see him slipping around like a foal.

He almost expected to see Bruce at the computer in the batcave, but apparently the man did sleep sometimes. Once every year, perhaps?

There were soft voices behind the door to the med bay. Someone was awake. Tiger gently tapped on the door.

“Enter,” came Alfred's voice.

Tiger opened the door slowly, in case it made noise. It didn't.

Dick was sitting up, cross-legged in the middle of the bed with a pile of pillows supporting his back. He smiled over at Tiger, eyes bright despite the dark circles beneath them, and his lips were almost symmetrical now. Tiger breathed a sigh of relief, a little louder than he had intended.

Alfred passed Dick a child's drinking cup, the kind with handles on each side and a spouted lid for drinking. Tiger had forgotten the word people used for it. Something childlike, fitting given its usual purpose.

Dick took a sip, holding it by the handles with both hands. “Ah, water. How I missed ye.” He patted the end of the end with his right foot. Or, well, he attempted to. It wiggled more than anything. Dick glared at it and repeated the motion more successfully with his left. “Sit with me?”

Tiger sat on the spot Dick had indicated. “You look better.”

“Head's still pounding and my right limbs still kinda hate me, but yeah. I don't feel like I'm dying anymore.” He smiled over at Alfred. “I'm okay, Alf. You should get some sleep.” He set the cup down in what looked like a custom-made cupholder on a trolley that also carried a heart rate monitor. Then he wiggled his left pointer finger, which had a clamp linking him to the machine. “You'll know if I need you.”

“A few more tests, sir.” Alfred brandished a ruler.

Dick groaned. “Spoiler alert: my reflexes still suck.”

Alfred rounded the bed and held the ruler in the air, a small camera in the other hand. “One more time.”

Dick sighed and held out his right hand. Alfred dropped the ruler. Dick missed grabbing it entirely.

“Your reflexes have improved slightly,” Alfred said, crossing to input the data into the computer. “We will test you again in the morning. Master Tiger, do you intend to remain here tonight?”

Tiger would prefer that, but felt strange asking.

“I'd like you to,” Dick said. That made it easier.

“I will,” Tiger said.

Alfred ducked into another section of the med bay, pushing a screen aside. He pulled out a second bed on wheels and dragged it to the other side of the heart rate monitor. Separate out of necessity due to the medical equipment and access in the event of an emergency, but close enough that Tiger would be in Dick's space enough to go back to sleep.

Alfred stole one of Dick's pillows for the bed. Dick only complained for a few seconds. Alfred checked the vitals on the monitor, made Dick drink some more water, and then left them for the night.

“He has an alarm system in his room that'll let him know if I need help,” Dick said. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“I thought you were going to die,” Tiger found himself admitting, not entirely of his own volition. He had not intended to say that to someone recovering from hours of pain.

“Me too,” Dick said quietly. Tiger squeezed his knee, but his awkwardness probably made it less of a comforting gesture and more... discomforting.

“Can you sleep?”

“I think so. I dozed off a bit while the migraine was screaming at me, so now should be easy. Comparatively.” He nudged Tiger with his good foot. “Get in bed. You look dead.”

“Flattering.” Tiger climbed into the other bed, which was surprisingly sturdy under his weight. Everything in here had to support Bruce's bulk, so he shouldn't have been surprised. Medical equipment was not often built to accommodate Tiger in either height or weight. He actually broke a stretcher once. Before Dick's time in Spyral, fortunately, or he never would have heard the end of it. Alia been bad enough, teasing him for...

And now he had made himself sad again.

Dick reached over with his heart-monitor-wearing hand, nudging his face. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I broke a stretcher once,” Tiger murmured. “Not on purpose. I was too heavy.”

“I believe it. I've seen Bruce break chairs by sitting on them.”

Tiger found a smile working its way onto his face, despite everything. “Alia saw the whole thing. She teased me for weeks.”

“You miss her.”

“Mm.” Tiger was beginning to regret opening his mouth.

“That's okay, you know. You're allowed. Double agent or not, you still spent a lot of time with her.” Dick lay down, nudging Tiger's hand until he took the hint and laced their fingers together. “Remember the good stuff. I know she cared about you at some point. Nearly ripped my face off after the Old Gun mission when you had to go in and save my ass without sniper support.”

Maybe Tiger was not regretting opening his mouth so much. He leaned down and kissed Dick's fingers. It felt good to do that. They didn't have to hide how they felt anymore.

“No one is completely good or completely evil,” Dick said. “Remember the good in Alia. Remember how she was, not what she became. Even if she did try to frame me for murder a little bit.” He laughed, a little sheepishly. “Anyway. People are complicated. I've lost people who I had complicated relationships with. Dwelling on the bad doesn't help.”

“You should have been a grief counselor,” Tiger told him.

“Hey, I'm still young. Anything could happen.” Dick grimaced. “I'm not sure I'm ever gonna be Nightwing again, so... may as well explore my options.” He huffed out a breath and pasted a smile on his face. “Whatever. Not gonna think about that now. Happy thoughts, eh?”

“Yes. Happy thoughts.” Tiger desperately needed that, and he sensed Dick did, too. “I'm proud of you. For holding up so well against Bannon.”

Dick shrugged his left shoulder. “Necessity makes heroes of us all.”

“I admire your bravery. Do not diminish what you did.”

“Okay, okay. I'm awesome. I admit it. You were pretty darn good in there, too.”

Tiger didn't think he was, but it was nice to hear. “I... thank you.”

“I'm serious. That shit was rough.” Dick's thumb rubbed against Tiger's nearest finger. “We're gonna need time to deal with that. I'm just glad we're together now.” He grinned, but it slipped off his face immediately. “Ooh. Ow. I hurt myself smiling.”

Tiger held back his laughter, because it really wasn't funny.

“Oh, come on,” Dick said. “You can laugh. I certainly can't. Let me live vicariously through you.”

Tiger snorted.

“Eh, that'll do.”

Dick's aggressive positivity certainly helped wipe away the last traces of dream anxiety. Tiger nuzzled into his pillow, smiling over at this wonderful man, this cheerful force only a few hours removed from a torture chamber and yet burning so brightly as if he had never suffered a moment in his life. That was true bravery. His heart was burning with love. Or, he hoped it was love. He hadn't eaten enough for indigestion, surely.

“Jaanaana—”

Dick cut him off. “You know, you promised to explain what that meant once we were free.”

“Oh. Uh.” Tiger coughed nervously. He was not the type to cough nervously—who did that?—but apparently he was now. “Would you like me to...”

“I'd love you to. I've been dying of curiosity.” He snickered the tiniest bit. “Ow. Please tell me before I hurt myself doing basic human things again.”

Tiger had to take a few breaths before he had enough air to speak. “Oh. It, uh... it means my love. Or my beloved. It depends on the translation. I... it slipped out one day and...”

“Oh my God.” Dick was grinning again. “Smiling hurts a whole lot right now but I can't stop. That's so... I love it. I love you. Please keep calling me that.”

“I intend to.”

“Aww. You're so sweet.”

“Hardly.”

“Yes, you are. You're not allowed to argue with the injured guy.”

Tiger laughed, muffling it in his pillow in case the sound was too much for Dick. “Very well. I am sweet. You, however, are the sweetest.”

“Oh, stop. You're just spoiling me now. And I haven't even come up with a petname for you yet.”

“Please don't.”

“Hey, we can't let this be one-sided. I feel mean letting you shower me with affection while I sit here like, yeah thanks. Come on. Be a sport.”

Tiger could not deny Dick anything right now. Or ever, really.

Dick pulled his blankets up with his weak hand, even laughing a little bit at his struggle. He'd managed to get it to grip the fabric before Tiger could offer assistance.

Then Dick sighed, his eyelids visibly heavy. “I'm glad you came down here. I missed sleeping next to you.”

“As did I.” Tiger leaned over to give Dick's fingers one last kiss. “And I love you, too. Very much.”

They didn't need to say more. Dick fell asleep first, finally giving in to his exhaustion. Tiger watched him for a while, finding comfort in every rise and fall of his chest, every soft breath filling the air.

Fingers still loosely tangled with Dick's, Tiger fell into the most peaceful sleep he'd had in months.

Dick woke, feeling distinctly hungover with a brain full of cotton wool, to find Tiger curled up on his side. Eyes open. Watching him. Dick caught a moment of softness before Tiger registered he was awake and climbed out of bed.

“I should call Alfred.”

“Chill for a sec.” Dick rubbed his face, sleep still clinging to the corners of his mind. He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. They felt weak, but they were moving better.

Last night had sucked, except for those moments with Tiger. Dick didn't remember half of what he said—the memories lost to some kind of pain haze—but he did remember talking about Alia, and Tiger finally explaining what jaanaana meant. He just wanted a few seconds to let all that warmth wash over him again before reality set back in.

“Sit with me?” he asked. “Just for a bit?” He shuffled more to his left. “These things can take both our weight. Bruce and Jason tested them together in a rare show of familial unity.”

Tiger gave him a look that was simultaneously affectionate and exasperated—he hadn't quite guarded himself yet but it wouldn't be long—and slid into bed beside him. It was a tight fit, not exactly comfortable, but Dick couldn't have given less of a shit if he'd tried.

“Hi, stranger,” he said, just so Tiger would give him that look again.

Tiger held himself up on one elbow and played with Dick's fingers in his free hand. “I know you did not hit your head that hard last night.”

“I do have some great swiss cheese pain memory going on, though.”

“Oh?”

“Don't worry, though. I remember the important stuff.”

“We have very different definitions of what is important.”

Dick grinned up at him, and it didn't hurt nearly as much as he feared it would. Progress. Tiger was playing with him, in his own way. They both knew what Dick meant.

Tiger ran the backs of his fingers along Dick's jaw. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Kinda hungover, though.”

“...meaning?”

Right. Tiger didn't drink.

“Still kinda tired. Head's pounding. Maybe a little nauseous.” Dick was silently grateful Tiger hadn't been in the room when he was vomiting the previous night. He kept that to himself; he'd managed to keep some food down and use mouthwash between Tiger's two visits anyway. “Don't tell me you've never gotten hit in the face with, like, a sleeping drug and woken up like that.”

“Not recently.”

“Lucky you.”

Tiger smiled indulgently. Dick had half a mind to tease him about it, but it really was nice to see him looking so relaxed. Knowing Tiger, and the way he dealt with trauma, it wouldn't last. So Dick kept that to himself, too.

“Morning breath kiss?” he asked instead.

“Will you throw up on me?”

“Probably not?”

Tiger kissed his forehead instead. Dick found that an acceptable alternative. He could always pounce on him later.

“Now may I call Alfred?”

Dick sighed. “Oh, fine. He's gonna make me pee into a jar again. I mean, I definitely could pee a lot right now but I'm always worried I'm gonna miss.”

“Uh-huh.” Tiger slid off the bed. “Stay put. I do not trust you.”

Dick didn't trust himself, either. He lifted his right leg and rotated the foot. Moving okay, but he wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to stand on it.

Alfred arrived with a tray of fruits. Dick had a sudden urge to eat everything in sight.

“Take your time, sir,” Alfred warned. Dick munched on pieces of watermelon while Alfred stabbed him with needles.

Tiger got kicked out at some point during the examination process, which definitely did involve peeing into a jar. Well, a plastic cup. And more freaky brain-scanning machines.

Dick was sitting on the edge of the bed, working up the nerve to try standing while Alfred put data into the computer. Alfred seemed fairly confident Dick could stand, though he wasn't so sure about walking. Dick, for his part, was trying not to set himself up for disappointment.

Before he could bring himself to do it, though, there was a knock on the door. Dick and Alfred looked at each other. Dick shrugged.

“Enter,” Alfred said.

Bruce poked his head through the door. “How are we doing?”

“Well,” Dick said, “right now, I'm in shock that you actually knocked for once in your life.”

Bruce joined him on the bed. “Tiger warned me you were probably peeing into a jar.”

“Did he actually say peeing, though?”

“No. Urinating.”

“That sounds more like him.”

Alfred finished with the computer. “Now, Master Dick, shall we try standing?”

“Do I have to?” Because joking about his fears sounded more appealing than actually facing them.

Bruce stood, offering his hand. “Come on. I'll help you up, just this once.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Dick grabbed it with his good hand, letting Bruce pull him up. He had to adjust his stance to put more weight on his left foot, but that was easy enough. That circus upbringing had given him a near-supernatural sense of balance. Thanks, Mum and Dad.

“Do you feel secure, sir?” Alfred asked.

“Relatively. Not sure I can walk without falling on my face, though.” He hobbled a step, half-expecting his right leg to crumble. It didn't, but it wobbled something awful.

“Very good,” Alfred said, typing something into the computer. “At this rate, sir, you should have sufficient mobility within a few more hours.”

Dick could've sank to the floor with relief, if Bruce hadn't chosen that moment to drag him in for a hug. Alfred had assured him repeatedly the symptoms were not permanent and typically disappeared within twenty-four hours, but there was definitely a part of him that feared he'd be stuck that way forever. He'd be (relatively) fine in a few hours, at least until the next attack. And he had no idea when that would be. They had as much data as they could find about that machine, but there was nothing like hands-on experience.

Was this simply a case of him developing a short-term tendency towards migraines? Would this become a chronic condition? Would he end up being more or less sensitive than the average migraine-sufferer who developed their condition due to natural causes? The unknowns were freaking him out a little bit.

Bruce squeezed him but didn't offer any verbal assurances. He didn't typically offer platitudes. Unknowns freaked him out, too. At least Dick could trust him to be honest. He wasn't the type to sugar-coat things for the sake of people's feelings.

Alfred placed a spiral-bound notebook with a pen in the binding onto Dick's bed. “Now, Master Dick. You will need to track your symptoms and triggers.”

“I'm right-handed, Alf.”

Bruce stepped back from the hug, raising an eyebrow. “Did I not teach you how to write left-handed?”

“Oh, you did. I just hate it.” Dick had been trained to do pretty much everything with his non-dominant hand. Writing was still unpleasant, though.

Alfred sighed. “You may ask someone to write for you, if you must. Light and sound appear to be common triggers among the machines' victims.”

“So no going outside without cool shades. Check.”

“Dick.” Bruce almost managed to sound stern. Impressive, really.

“I've had a bad week. Don't judge me.”

Alfred made him sit back down and suffer more tests and scans. He definitely wasn't getting out of here before lunch.

Tiger was glad to spend time praying with Damian at midday, for several reasons. First, of course, was the fact he simply liked praying. Second was the fact Damian was good, quiet company during this time. Third was unique. The entirety of Dick's family had not left him alone for more than a few moments today. He was flattered Dick's family cared enough that they kept seeking him out, but Tiger had never been a people person, even less so today. Dick was resting until lunch and Tiger had honestly hoped to have some time to himself.

So Tiger lingered on his favourite verses even after he had finished praying, sinking into the familiar text. Damian lingered beside him, even as he fidgeted.

“You can tell them to leave you alone,” Damian said. “Or I can do it.”

“No, I...” Tiger didn't want to reject their kindness. Stephanie had brought him chocolate, of all things. No one did that. He and Dick didn't do gifts. It had seemed impractical for a long time. Maybe that could change now.

They were just trying to help. It was not their fault he needed some time alone with his thoughts.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Do you like suffering?”

Sometimes Tiger honestly wondered if he did. He had lingered on his pain these past few months in a way he never had in the past. Maybe repression had been unhealthy, but wallowing was equally so, as well as impractical.

There was a balance. Why could he not find it? How did other people do it? Was there something wrong with him? And why was he having an (internalised) emotional breakdown because a child offered to help him?

He's been silent for too long. Damian made a kind of tutting sound Tiger had never heard another person do in all his years. Where did this child even get that from?

“I will tell them you leave you alone today, since you clearly cannot be trusted to interact with your fellow human beings.”

“You're not wrong,” Tiger said, closing his Quran. There was perhaps an hour until lunch. The sun was almost bright today and the gardens did not seem quite as rain-drowned as they usually did. Maybe a walk around the manor grounds would help him put his mind into working order.

He and Damian parted ways outside the room. Tiger put his Quran away and found a coat in Dick's closet. Tight around his shoulders, but it would do. Gotham weather was a liar. Even when it looked warm, even the slightest breeze would chill to the bone. He considered finding a beanie, but dismissed it as too dramatic.

Tiger hadn't had many opportunities to explore the gardens behind the manor. Bruce had not wanted him wandering unsupervised during his previous stay here. Dick had to fight just so Tiger could walk to a few set locations without a chaperone.

Well, Bruce wasn't here now, and Tiger was not above complaining to Dick if problems arose. He hurried down the back steps before Bruce could show up to stop him.

The climate rendered the back gardens of the manor especially green, though Tiger suspected it was not all in the hands of the weather. The lawns were even more manicured than St Hadrian's, which had been painfully immaculate. Tiger used to sneak off to find something that looked real.

He found himself wandering a sweet-smelling rose garden, separated from the grounds by dark metal fences. Gravel crunched underfoot, and that alone made him feel more alive than he had in months. Gravel. Really? Tiger decided not to linger on the thought.

The bushes were well-tended, but a little wilder than the rest of the grounds. Every colour imaginable was here, though the overall favourite seemed to be white. Those bushes were everywhere. They reminded Tiger of a funeral shroud.

He spotted a stone bench in the centre, surrounded by the gravel path. He leaned down to read an inscription: For Martha. That was the name of Bruce's mother, yes? Tiger suddenly wasn't so sure about sitting on the bench. Was it purely ornamental? Would it be disrespectful to sit on Bruce's dead mother's bench? Tiger didn't know the etiquette here.

He didn't know a lot of things.

“There you are.” Dick was leaning against the gate, a thick pair of sunglasses covering his eyes. “Dami said he spotted you out this way.”

“How did you get here?”

“I have to tell you something,” Dick said, too seriously to be real. Unless Tiger was making assumptions. “You see... that machine did something terrible.”

“Oh?” Best to take this seriously until he knew for certain.

“Yeah. I can't walk anymore. But it gave me some pretty sick invisible wings. You know... win some, lose some.”

Tiger tried not to sound too relieved as he replied, “But how will you fit into civilian society now?”

“Tim's making me some robot legs. I'll soon be a flying cyborg who gets hemiplegic migraines that may or may not be a long-term thing.” Dick pushed the gate open and limped through. “Just kidding. Except the migraines. Check out these cool shades.”

They looked like he had stolen them from a white middle-class great-grandmother. “Very cool, Dick.”

“I knew you'd like them. Alfred shone a flashlight in my face. It sucked. So he gave me these for going bright places.” He drew level with Tiger, leaning slightly to his left. “Don't tell Alfred I'm leaning. He'll smack me with a newspaper because I'm gonna give myself posture problems or something.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Dick lowered himself onto the bench. Tiger quickly followed suit. One question answered. Now if only everything else bothering Tiger could be resolved so easily...

“Is today a brooding day?” Dick said.

“I... what?”

Dick shook his head, smiling slightly. “Never mind. I'll save the teasing for Bruce. His reactions are funnier.” He lowered his voice to a respectable imitation of Bruce-as-Batman. “I do not brood, Robin.” He coughed, laughing through it. “Man, I haven't done that voice in a while. Should've gargled some gravel first. More authentic that way.”

“Your face looks better,” Tiger said. It... did not come out quite the way he had planned.

“Thanks. I powdered my nose just for you.”

“That's not what I—”

“I know what you mean, hon. You're right. The paralysis is dying down.” He wiggled his fingers. “Give me a few more minutes and maybe I can write in that nifty migraine journal Alfred gave me. Shame I won't have anything much to write until the next time my brain goes on strike like that.”

“You could write down the symptoms you remember.”

“I made Bruce take dictation for me already, even though he whined about it since he did technically train me to be ambidextrous. Mentioned everything I remember about last night.”

“Are the sunglasses helping?”

“Yeah. Just remind me not to stare directly at the sun.” The sunlight dimmed as clouds covered the sky. Dick looked upwards and snorted. “Not that there's much risk of that in Gotham.”

“Why does anyone want to live in this place?”

Dick shrugged. “Well, historically there was a reason. I don't remember what it was. Then people put down roots and didn't wanna leave. Now a lot of people come here for work, or stay because they've always lived here.”

“And you?”

“My family's here.” Dick rested his head on Tiger's shoulder. “I know it's hard to believe, given you and Bruce don't really get along, but he was there when my world fell apart. He took in a random kid from the circus because he knew exactly what I was going through. That's what he does. And, look, he has some pretty strong views on stuff like guns and killing, but he has a reason for that. I mean... I remember the first time I faced down a group of mob henchmen as Robin. The anger that boiled in me. They weren't the man who killed my parents, but they were cut from the same cloth, you know? Bruce is like that with guns. Plus, he gets protective of his kids. A random spy boyfriend who's shot people before? Hoo boy.”

“And yet you have fought with him. Over me.”

“Well, yeah. Just because I understand doesn't mean I can't see when he's being irrational.”

Tiger was unsure Bruce's problems with him were irrational at all. Here they were, pretending he hadn't helped Jason and Helena shoot Alia. Fatally. From where he was sitting, Bruce seemed like the only rational person in the world.

Dick reached up and kissed Tiger's neck. “Hey. Enough brooding, big guy.”

“I shot someone.” The words burst out of him, shaking through the air before he even realised his mouth was open.

“To save me.”

“I shot someone.”

“You weren't the only one.”

“We are lying about it.”

“Because Bruce is not gonna be rational about this.”

“Are you defending what we did?” Tiger did not recognise the voice coming out of his mouth. This voice did not belong to him. Who was he anymore?

“No. I don't like it. But I know why the three of you did it.” Dick squeezed Tiger's bicep. “And I'm grateful, okay? I'm alive because of that split-second decision. I'm in one piece, more or less, because of you.”

Tiger did not want to talk about this anymore. He did not want to examine his feelings about this. Too much confusion. Too much fear. Too much everything.

Relief came in Jason's shape, as he leaned over the fence to yell, “Hey, losers! Lunch is served.” Then he walked back up to the manor without waiting for them to follow him.

Dick grabbed Tiger's arm before he could move. “One second, gorgeous.”

“Are you testing petnames on me?” His voice still didn't sound quite right, but close enough that they could both ignore it.

“That obvious, huh?” Dick grabbed Tiger's chin. “Now our breath's better, I'd very much like to kiss you.”

Despite the bulky sunglasses and his questionable health, Dick pounced on him. Their lips locked. Tiger forgot about everything else. Including lunch.

It was anyone's guess how much time passed before Jason came back, yelling at them to come eat some sandwiches rather than each other's faces.

Dick laughed so hard he gave himself a minor headache, but insisted it was worth it.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 20

@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight

(GUESS WHO’S BAAAACK)

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

Tag, in chronological order

Shiny New Masterlist of the entire fic series (including AO3 link because I don’t trust tumblr to behave regarding external links anymore)

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 5k (this chapter)

Summary: It's been a rough ride. As everyone slows down in the wake of the past week, dark feelings rise to the surface.

Notes: TRIGGER WARNINGS: Loved ones in medical danger & requiring hospital treatment, not knowing if the loved one is going to survive. 

I have included specifics on the medical danger and a summary of that scene in the endnote of my AO3 post on this chapter. You can find the AO3 link to the full fic in my masterlist. I don’t trust tumblr to NOT shove me out of the DickTiger tag if I post external links again.

The scene in question is the final one, when Tiger, Tim and Dick go to the Batcave.

Chapter 20

Helena took point for the journey to the rendezvous point with Jason watching for attacks from the rear. Tiger was sending updates to Batman, who had successfully taken over the facility. The rest of the family had dispersed throughout the building, collecting prisoners now that the immediate danger had passed. No one had come to an agreement about what to do about them yet.

Dick leaned heavily on Tiger while Gloria stuck to the wall, unsteady but moving. Walking was hell. Dick's legs didn't want to support his weight, even without the bullet wound in his right calf. But clinging to Tiger was exhausting in itself and his arms were already shaking. Symptoms were slowly trickling back now that the fight was over. His vision kept swimming and his head kept throbbing and his neck felt like the victim of a bad acupuncture session.

“This is not working,” Tiger said. “We need to stop.”

Helena paused. “Make it quick.”

“You should stop walking,” Tiger said to Dick, lifting him into his arms.

“I swear everyone I've dated has done this at least once,” Dick semi-complained. In all honesty, though, he was just glad Tiger had saved him from admitting defeat a few metres later anyway.

“How are you, Gloria?” Tiger asked.

“Sweet of you to ask, but I'll be fine. We should keep moving.”

Dick rested his head against Tiger's shoulder. Even though Tiger took great pains not to jostle him, every step was like a hammer against his brain. Now would be a great time to go to sleep and get away from this, but he had hit his head a few times today so it probably wasn't the best idea until Alfred could examine him. Damn it.

They passed into a room. The light was too bright. Dick squeezed his eyes shut.

“We have injured,” Helena said. “How close are we to extraction?”

Then came the voice Dick had been wishing he could hear for days. “We need time to clear out any remaining resistance,” Batman said. “Is immediate attention required?”

“No one is about to die,” Helena replied, “but sooner is preferable.”

“We'll need a few more minutes to secure safe passage. I'll send Red Robin and Batgirl to Gotham with the injured as soon as possible.” A gloved hand grasped Dick's, who reluctantly opened his eyes, just a touch, to take in the concerned set of Batman's mouth beneath the cowl. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better. Light hurts.”

“There is a small office in the corner. It should be darker in there.” Batman called for Red Robin to move blankets they had collected into the office. There were enough that Tim was practically invisible behind them. Seeing a pile of floating blankets did nothing to improve Dick's opinion of his own health.

But, soon enough, he was lying on a stack of them behind the desk in the office, largely shielded from the light of the next room. Gloria was set up on the other side, closer to the door, since she didn't seem quite as sensitive.

Dick rested his hand over his eyes, letting out a long breath. The worst was over, and the rest would be done in a matter of minutes. Then he could go home and deal with whatever the fuck was happening to him.

Tiger squeezed his wrist. “Do not fall asleep yet, jaanaana.”

“I know, I know.”

Tiger let him go and there was a shift in light Dick barely noticed through his closed eyelids, but Tiger was definitely moving away from him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“I should help Batman lock down the facility.”

“Unarmed?” came Jason's voice.

Tiger sighed. “I'll need my gun back.”

Dick wanted to stop him, but had no idea how to do that without sounding needy. He hated that feeling. He wrestled with that in every relationship he'd had. He could sometimes be suffocating and too intense and just too much. No one knew how to handle him, least of all Dick himself.

Fortunately, Jason was fighting on his behalf. “We've got it handled, dude.”

“Is anyone watching the front entrance?”

“Red Robin's traps have got it covered.”

“Just give me the gun.”

Jason sighed. “If you insist.”

Then Tiger was gone.

“Maybe he just needs a few minutes,” Jason said. “It's been a long couple months.”

“I need a few minutes for my head to stop murdering me anyway,” Dick said. Then he fully intended to go after Tiger because fuck this insecurity bullshit. He had every right to be needy after everything he'd been through. He just had to figure out how to drag his wounded ass to the front of the building.

The sounds of activity in the other room were slightly muted, but Dick could pick up a few snatches of conversation. Tim and Barbara were discussing data with Helena. Jason was guarding an entrance to the room and Steph the other. Cass and Damian were sneaking up on stragglers together. Bruce was coordinating everything.

Barbara ducked in to shine a light in Gloria's eyes to make sure she didn't have something worse than a concussion. “No pupil contraction,” she said. “You should be okay, but we have a friend in Gotham who can perform a more thorough exam.”

“I can't see Batman letting her in the cave,” Dick replied.

“He's not. Leslie's on standby at her clinic.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Dick couldn't wait for Alfred to clear him for sleep. His body was absolutely done with him.

“Just lie there and look pretty, okay?”

“Will do.” For now. Just being horizontal was doing wonders for his entire body, especially his head. There was still a good old-fashioned marching band wrecking the joint, but at least the drummers had calmed down a little.

Barbara left them to rest. Dick felt well enough to push himself into a sitting position. He rested against the wall while his head protested. He breathed through it.

Bruce and Jason were talking nearby, voices hushed. But Dick and Gloria were nowhere near as loud as everyone else, so the sound reached them anyway.

“What happened in there?” Bruce asked.

“That Daedalus guy,” Jason replied. “He'd taken over that agent's mind. Nightwing called her Alia. I think Helena called her Agent 8 in the briefings she sent.”

Bruce's glare was almost audible. He didn't need to ask why there was a dead Spyral agent.

“Daedalus was literally about to take over Nightwing's mind,” Jason said. “There was no time to waste, so Helena and I shot him. Alia was long gone.”

More silent glaring.

“You wanna hate me? Fine. Nightwing's alive because we chose his life over a dead woman's possessed corpse.”

Technically true, but maybe a little harsh.

“...where was Tiger in all this?”

“With me.”

“Why didn't he shoot? Since you insist it was the only option.”

“One of my guns jammed. He lent me his.”

Dick reached up and got a grip on the desk, pulling himself to his feet. Jason was good, but Bruce was a master of making people confess the truth. They'd committed to this path. If Bruce even got a hint that Jason was lying to protect Tiger, things would be much worse than they would have been if he'd admitted Tiger shot in the first place.

Dick made it to the doorframe, light hitting him in the face. Not great for the headache. He reached for the brightness setting on his mask and tinted his lenses, which helped a little.

“Where is he now?” Bruce asked.

“Watching the front entrance,” Jason replied.

“Fetch him. Red Robin and Batgirl are taking our injured to Gotham in a few minutes.”

“Let me handle that,” Dick said. Neither Bruce nor Jason seemed surprised to see him; it wasn't like he was trying to be sneaky.

“Lie back down,” Bruce replied.

“Yeah, that's not gonna work,” Jason said.

“Let's be honest here,” Dick said. “Alf's gonna have me glued to bed as soon as I get to the Batcave. He will probably drug me. I need to sort a few things out with Tiger, preferably one-on-one and before I'm high on pain meds.”

“We are morally obligated to respect the injured guy's wishes, you know.” Jason patted Bruce's shoulder and joined Dick in the doorway. “I'll help you get down there if you're sure you're up to it.”

“I have a limited window of time. So quit asking questions and help me already.”

Jason bent down and let Dick put an arm over his shoulders. “Of course, your majesty.”

Tiger had found himself a quiet spot near a window that gave him the best view of the gravel road leading away from the building. He wanted more than anything to leave this place, but the best he could do until then was find a few moments to himself. The gun felt heavy in his hand as he leaned against the wall, letting his arm hang loosely by his side, barrel pointed towards the floor. He wanted to throw it. He had to keep reminding himself that was a bad idea. He had no idea how Dick threw loaded guns without accidentally shooting himself, but he certainly wasn't about to attempt it. No matter how much he wanted it gone.

It was worrying to think that, only a few months ago, he had been so determined to find Alia and eliminate the threat she posed. The memory felt like it belonged to a different person. He was never going to enjoy her death, but the man he once had been would have shed a few tears for her and then moved on, confident in the knowledge that he had done what was necessary.

Now, it seemed he questioned everything, even the things no one else struggled with. Dick and Helena had been so doggedly determined throughout this past week, even as Tiger wavered. He had once been so confident in his actions. The man he was now couldn't have spent years infiltrating a rival spy organisation, doing everything necessary to climb the ranks and become entrusted with the kind of information he needed to keep Spyral from threatening the world.

The past few months had been difficult enough. This past week, even more so. He still hated himself for bringing Dick into this. They didn't know about that machine, or that Daedalus had taken over Alia's body, but he couldn't stop thinking he never should have even considered involving him. Helena thought Dick had provided a useful distraction for Bannon so she could search for intel, but was that really worth it?

That torture machine caused lasting medical problems. Dick could never be the same again. And it was Tiger's fault for being so weak, so desperate to have Dick close while he and Helena pulled the scraps of Spyral apart.

If this wasn't the end of Spyral now that Daedalus was gone (hopefully), then everything Dick went through would have been pointless. At least if they managed to destroy Spyral, some good would have come out of Dick's suffering. Even if he didn't think it was truly worth it.

“Hey, handsome.”

Tiger flinched more than he would have liked, jerking his head to find Dick approaching him slowly, mouth stretched in a thin smile that did not hide his pain as much as he probably hoped it did. Jason watched them from the nearest doorway before he shrank away.

Dick leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the window. Poor visibility there, but it wasn't like Dick was in any condition to do much anyway.

“You should be resting,” Tiger said, quashing a surge of annoyance that Dick was pushing himself now that his fight was over.

“Tim and Babs are taking us and Gloria back to Gotham soon,” Dick said, evidently ignoring what Tiger had said. “I wanted some one-on-one time while I'm still mostly coherent, because you bet Alfred's gonna drug me six ways from Sunday.”

“What does that even mean?”

Dick shrugged. “Idiom. Doesn't matter. The point is, I wanna take advantage of my brief burst of lucidity before either pain or drugs take my brain for a ride.”

Tired, shaking, in visible pain and Dick was still playing with the English language in ways that should have been illegal. So he really was quite coherent.

Tiger gestured vaguely to the window. “I am working.”

“Yeah, you looked so focused with the way you were glaring at the floor.”

Tiger came perilously close to snapping at him. He took a deep breath and tried to blow all his misplaced frustration out on the exhalation.

“There is a lot on my mind,” he admitted.

Dick rested his head against the wall, his face twisting for the barest of moments before he smoothed it out again. “We couldn't have anticipated things would go like this.”

Tiger had a sudden urge to deny he was thinking about that, purely out of frustration that Dick had so easily dug into his thoughts. The man was supposed to be resting, but he was on his feet with Tiger, thinking about him rather than his own health. That was infuriating. Even more infuriating was the fact he just knew Dick wouldn't listen if he tried to tell him to worry about himself.

“It is our job to anticipate as many worst-case scenarios as possible,” Tiger muttered.

“So, you're telling me we should've anticipated the existence of a mysterious torture machine that isn't supposed to exist, and that a murderous ghost dude we thought was gone was just gonna show up in the body of your ex-partner?”

The absurdity of this whole situation was beginning to give Tiger a headache of his own.

“I'm sorry about Alia,” Dick said quietly.

“I'm the one who—”

“Shh!”

Something else Tiger was not happy about. They were lying for him. He helped kill Alia and they were hiding it so Bruce wouldn't have cause to throw Tiger to the wolves, even if he deserved it.

“Look,” Dick said, “we can't talk about everything right now. But we will. This is the best thing for everyone, okay? Please trust us.”

Tiger didn't want to leave Dick again. He had to hold onto that. They had spent more than enough time apart. Thinking about it left a sick feeling in Tiger's stomach that he did not want to examine.

“I don't like it,” Tiger admitted. “But it is done. I have no choice.”

Dick sighed, and his calm mask slipped just enough to betray the utter exhaustion lying underneath. “Okay. I can work with that.” He smiled weakly. “I love you.” He reached for Tiger's hand. “Come on. We're leaving soon. I also might need help walking. I mean, despite my rugged good looks, I'm actually wiped right now.”

“Yes. I definitely had not noticed that.”

Jason stepped out from wherever he'd been hiding, holding out his hand. Tiger passed him the gun, pushing down the immense relief he felt now that he no longer had to carry it.

“Get back to rendezvous,” Jason said. “I'll take it from here.”

Barbara took Gloria to a Wayne family friend for medical treatment while Tim took Tiger and Dick to the batcave. Alfred had already prepared a bed in the med bay. Tim helped Tiger get Dick sitting on it before heading out to work on the computer.

“You can remain for a moment,” Alfred said to Tiger, reaching for a tiny flashlight. Tiger crammed himself into a corner, arms crossed, hoping that would be enough to stay out of the way when all he wanted to do was curl up around Dick and go to sleep with him.

“Light hurts,” Dick said quietly. He listed in the seat a little and Tiger expected him to fall. He caught himself, but it took him a while to straighten up properly.

“I am sorry, sir. I need to check your eyes.”

Dick sighed. “Fine.”

Alfred shone the flashlight into each of Dick's eyes while Dick dug his fingernails into the leather gurney and visibly tried not to flinch.

“Hm.” Alfred tapped a note into the computer nearby. “You have unequal pupil dilation, sir. We'll need to isolate the cause.”

“Did Tim send you any data?” Tiger asked. “Dick was subjected to a machine that causes long-term medical problems.”

Alfred clicked around. “Ah. Here we are.”

Dick was swaying a little again. Tiger gave into the urge to steady him. Dick rested his head on Tiger's supporting arm. He leaned more heavily against him with every passing moment Alfred spent reading the files Tim had sent him.

Dick mumbled something that Tiger couldn't understand. He tried again:

“Idonfeelright.”

“You don't feel right?”

Dick nodded weakly.

Alfred stepped away from the computer. “Let's get you lying down, sir. We can do a preliminary brain scan here, but we may need to commandeer a hospital's equipment for an in-depth diagnosis.”

Dick tried for a smile, but only one half of his face cooperated. Tiger's blood turned to ice.

No. No, no, no.

Did they even have the resources to treat a stroke?

Tiger and Alfred got Dick lying down. Dick was too weak to offer assistance. His right side seemed unwilling to cooperate.

Dick shut his eyes, face only half-twisting with apparent discomfort. He didn't try speaking again.

“I can take it from here, Master Tiger,” Alfred said, pulling a machine from the ceiling that hid the cave from view. The machine was a huge white arm with a box on the end that had a half-cylindrical piece cut from it. Tiger had never seen such a machine before and had a sneaking suspicion it was not a standard piece of medical equipment used in hospitals that had entire rooms for brain-scanning equipment.

“Are you sure? I can... hold things.” Tiger absolutely did not want to leave Dick in this condition. If this really was a stroke, it could be fatal. He wanted to punch himself for not insisting they get Dick medical attention sooner. He hadn't seemed in immediate danger. If that decision killed the man he loved...

“I'm sure.” Alfred pressed buttons on some kind of box machine that started a whirring in the arm-end. “There are snacks in the kitchen. Eat something. Rest if you can.”

Dick held out his good left hand, giving Tiger's a squeeze before pulling away. Tiger got the message. This was up to Dick and Alfred now.

“It may not be a stroke, sir,” Alfred said as Tiger forced himself to back away. “There are other medical conditions that cause similar symptoms. Do not panic.”

Tiger didn't have it in him to speak. He swallowed around the lump quickly forming in his throat, nodded curtly, and stepped outside. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it.

He was panicking. Definitely panicking. Dick could be having a stroke. Dick could be dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

“How is he?” Tim called from across the cave. Tiger took a few quick breaths—shallower than he wanted—and joined him at the computer. Tim shoved out a wheeled stool for him.

“We don't know yet,” Tiger said, slumping onto the seat. Talking hurt. Thinking hurt. “Fatigue. Unequal pupil dilation. Speech difficulties. Weakness on one side of the body.”

Tim had changed out of his uniform into civvies—a baggy t-shirt and sweatpants that looked older than Damian. A pair of glasses was set on his nose as he squinted at the data flitting across the computer screen.

“Okay, so, I think we both know the obvious possibilty,” Tim said, with an even tone Tiger envied. “If it's a stroke, we'll deal with it. People survive strokes all the time. It could also be something else. Some migraines do that.” Tim pushed his glasses further up his nose with a finger, offering Tiger a serious look that was somehow reassuring in the fact he wasn't trying to feign a lack of concern. Tim was as calm as possible without being in denial. Tiger appreciated that.

“I didn't take you for an optimist.”

“I'm not.” Tim refocused on the screen, tapping the keys every so often. Tiger had no idea what he was doing. “Listen. I get migraines sometimes. Not the type Dick might have, but I did plenty of research on the various types when trying to figure out what the heck was wrong with me. Bruce benched me for a bit when they got bad, but I got medication and function pretty well most of the time now. Whatever is happening with Dick, we'll handle it. We always do.”

“You still sound like an optimist.”

“In this family, it's more like stubbornness. Examine all the options, prepare for the worst, hope for the best. It's all you can do sometimes.”

There was something soothing in listening to Tim talk like this. They'd never spent as much time together as some of the others, but Tiger had always liked him. Matter-of-factness was more comforting than empty platitudes.

Of course, that didn't mean Tiger was going to stop panicking. His heart pounded something terrible and his throat hurt. He was also probably shaking but didn't want to check his hands to make sure.

Tim let Tiger sit there while he worked. Tiger wanted to pace around and probably throw things, but that would require energy he did not have. One part of him longed for sleep. The rest of him was too restless to even consider it until he knew whether Dick was going to be okay.

They'd been through so much. Dick had been through so much. He couldn't lose him now. What would he even do if Dick died tonight? Tiger had dragged out every ounce of strength he had and shoved it into getting them home safely. He had nothing left. He couldn't take one more piece of bad news. Not tonight. Possibly not ever.

Tiger didn't know how long he sat there, before a roaring sound echoed through the cave.

“That'll be the fam,” Tim said, swivelling in his chair. They watched the batmobile and a fleet of motorcycles roll in from the deeper recesses of the cave and park on a wide platform that held a few other vehicles in various states of disrepair.

Bruce and Damian hopped out of the car. Jason and the girls swung themselves off motorbikes. By the time they reached Tim and Tiger, cowls and masks had been discarded and other various accessories—mainly gloves—were in the process of doing the same.

“Snacks are upstairs,” Tim told the group, who all headed for the stairs except for Bruce.

“Report,” Bruce said. His hair was moulded to his head with sweat.

“Gloria has a concussion,” Tim replied. “Barbara's keeping an eye on her at one of our safehouses tonight. If there are no complications, Helena will get her home tomorrow.”

“And Dick?”

“We don't know yet.” Tim paused for a moment, face grim. “There have been some... complications. Alfred hasn't given any updates so far.”

“What kind of complications?”

“Fatigue, speech difficulties, weakness in one side of the body.” Tim listed the symptoms without inflection. Tiger could feel a swell of anxiety rise in the boy next to him, before he beat it back. “We don't know the cause yet.”

Tiger was grateful no one had tried speaking to him. He wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth. Sobbing, most likely.

Bruce sighed, unlatching his cape from the rest of his uniform. “He's strong. If anyone can survive this, it's him.” There was something about his voice that almost made that sound believable.

Tiger bit his own finger to stop himself from bursting into tears.

Jason came back down the stairs. “If you three want anything to eat, you better get up here now.”

Tiger's stomach felt like knives. Eating was the last thing on his mind. Maybe he could drink some water and try to take his mind off Dick for a moment. That second thing was unlikely but at least he could try.

Bruce stayed downstairs to update computer files based on intel received from Spyral, but Tim and Tiger both followed Jason into the manor.

The rest of the family was standing around the kitchen benches, munching on sandwiches and cookies and fruit and a vegetable platter. Jason shoved Tiger towards the food, so he grabbed a tiny stick of celery. Celery was close enough to water that maybe he wouldn't feel sick eating it.

Cass offered him a reassuring pat on the arm, but mercifully did not attempt to hug him. Embarrassed that she had read him so well, but relieved that she could, he gave her a nod. Smiling was beyond him in that moment.

Tim told the group about Dick's condition. Possibly because they were tired after a long night, everyone quietly absorbed the information and kept eating. Tiger was also grateful for that. He was barely holding together. He did not need sympathy. He kept his gaze on the counter so he wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.

Tiger ate his celery as slowly as possible, but there came a point where to continue gnawing on a piece the size of his thumbnail would stick out as particularly ridiculous. Jason shoved a glass of water into his hand instead.

Most of them were still wearing their earpieces. Bruce's voice crackled to life in Tiger's ear.

“I have an update from Alfred,” he said. “No blood clot in the brain. Dick is not having a stroke. He is in severe pain, so it would appear that he has a particular type of migraine.”

The room collectively exhaled. Stephanie quickly passed the information to Damian, who was the only person not still wearing his earpiece. The group gradually began to trickle out for showers and bed. Tiger stayed put, sipping his water slowly. If he made any sudden moves, he definitely would start crying.

Jason stayed with him. “You'll be pleased to know Helena blew up the place, with a few extra explosives in that torture machine for good measure once she'd extracted all the data from it. She's hanging out in Gotham until Gloria's up to travelling. Don't know what she plans after that.”

Tiger shrugged. Helena had been tight-lipped about what she wanted once Spyral was no longer a threat. St Hadrian's still existed. It was a school as well as a headquarters. Perhaps Helena could shut the school down or replace all the staff and change it into something less espionage-oriented. Tiger didn't much care at this point.

“You've totally got a right to freak out, you know.” Jason leaned against the counter, ducking his head into Tiger's line of sight. “You've been through a lot.”

“I'll consider it once I've seen Dick,” Tiger said, draining the last of his water. He wasn't sure when Dick would be well enough for visitors. Migraines could last hours. He didn't want to make it harder on him just to satisfy his own anxiety.

His earpiece crackled and Alfred's voice floated in. “Master Tiger, do you have a moment?”

Tiger's heart jittered in his chest, which was simply ridiculous. This was not necessarily a bad thing. Maybe Dick was feeling better.

“Yes?” Tiger managed to keep his voice relatively even, but Jason still gave him a look.

“Master Dick is asking for you.”

“Is he well enough?”

“No, but he insists.”

Tiger felt a surge of warmth, tempered by frustration. Happy that Dick wanted to see him, but not so happy he was going to make himself feel worse just to have a few moments with him.

“I'm on my way,” Tiger said.

“What's up?” Jason asked.

“Dick is in no condition for visitors,” Tiger replied, rinsing his glass out in the sink. “But he wants to see me anyway.”

“Classic Dick.” Jason waved him on. “Go forth, my friend.”

“Never speak like that again.”

Jason snickered, shoving Tiger towards the door. “Get outta here.”

Tiger headed back to the batcave. Bruce was still working on the computer, but a sandwich had appeared beside him. Either Alfred was, in fact, a superhero who could be in two places at once, or someone else had brought it to him.

Alfred was waiting outside the door to the med bay. He beckoned Tiger over and said, in a low voice, “He is sensitive to light and sound, sir. Be careful.”

“I'll be quiet.”

“Only a few minutes. Then he needs to rest.” Alfred opened the door, waiting in the doorway while Tiger crossed to the bed in the middle of the med bay.

Dick was laid up on his back, a dark sleeping mask over his eyes. Alfred had covered him with soft blankets with a damp towel on his forehead.

The fingers on Dick's right hand twitched a little. “Tiger?” His face pinched with pain best it could, his right side moving the tiniest amount. The paralysis didn't seem has complete as it had before, but it was still there.

Tiger gently took his hand, running his thumb over Dick's knuckles. He wasn't entirely sure how much Dick could feel, but apparently it was enough. Dick let out a breath and sank a little into the pillow. He was still holding himself tightly, tensing every so often.

Dick squeezed his hand. There was no strength in it. Tiger brushed his lips against his knuckles and Dick managed a small smile.

Alfred put his hand on Tiger's shoulder, nodding towards the door. Tiger gave Dick's hand one more kiss and gently laid it back down, stroking his knuckles as he worked up the willpower to leave.

Then he left Dick to rest, hoping the pain would be gone by the morning.

[iatethepomegranate]

DickTiger Human Connection Series Masterlist

This series contains the following fics

Human Connection (complete)

The Welcoming Committee (complete)

Homecoming (in progress)

See below for links.

I’m getting sick of tumblr fucking around with external links and keeping me out of the tag, so I’m gonna make a masterlist of the fics in this series and include AO3 links here, under the cut. Because this thing is long as heck.

1. Human Connection (complete)

AO3 link

Rating: Varies by chapter, tops out at Explicit.

Summary:

“Dick Grayson.” Caught off-guard, Dick nearly fell out the window, but a strong hand seized his bicep and pulled him back into the room. “Idiot.”

Agent 1 wasn’t the romantic type. Agent 37 couldn’t afford to be picky.

Warnings:

Specified in chapter summaries. Includes: islamophobia, creepiness towards young girls, canonical ableist language, lotsa sex.

Chapters and additional fics in the series under the cut.

Chapter 1 3.5k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 2 3k

Chapter 3 1.7k

Chapter 4 5.2k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 5 3.5k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 6 4.1k

Chapter 7 2.6k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 8 4.7k, EXPLICIT

2. The Welcoming Committee (one-shot, not strictly necessary to read)

AO3 link

Rating: Teen (implied sexytimes at end but Safe For Work overall)

Summary:

Dick makes his return to Spyral but, before he gets there, he is intercepted by the last person he wanted to see: the man who broke his heart. (Can be read as a standalone)

3. Homecoming (still ongoing)

AO3 link

Rating: Varies by chapter, tops out at Explicit.

Summary:

Dick brings Tiger home to meet the batfamily. Bruce is... not impressed. Things quickly spiral out of control when family members take sides, secrets are thrown into the open and Jason takes a personal interest in defending his brother's surprise boyfriend from their father's distrust.

Warnings:

Included in chapter summaries. These include: Psychological trauma, violence, injuries, torture, suffocation, needs deprivation, loved ones in medical danger

Chapter 1 2.2k

Chapter 2 2.2k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 3 1.7k

Chapter 4 3.1k

Chapter 5 3.5k

Chapter 6 3.2k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 7 4k

Chapter 8 4.2k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 9 4.1k

Chapter 10 5.1k

Chapter 11 4k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 12 4.1k

Chapter 13 3.2k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 14 4.7k

Chapter 15 4.9k, EXPLICIT

Chapter 16 4.3k, torture

Chapter 17 4.6k, torture. If suffocation is a trigger, here’s a chapter summary.

Chapter 18 5.8k, torture.

Chapter 19 4k, suicidal ideation.

Chapter 20 5k, TW: loved ones in medical danger & requiring hospital treatment, not knowing if the loved one is going to survive. See AO3 chapter notes for specifics.

Chapter 21, 5.4k

Chapter 22, 3k

Chapter 23, 3.7k

Chapter 24, 5.5k

Chapter 25, 3.3k

Chapter 26, 3.2k

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 19

@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight long time no see lmao

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

All chapters

Read on AO3

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 4k (this chapter)

Summary: The escape is on, but is Dick up to the task?

Notes: TW for suicidal ideation

Chapter 19

Dick made it into the corridor outside the prison and leaned against the wall, catching his breath. He had to pace himself. The adrenaline would pass through his system eventually and he would pay for everything he put his body through. No need to make that worse than it was already going to be.

He slid his escrima from their holster on his back, taking a few practice swings to refamiliarse himself and get a handle on how best to use them in his condition. At this point, he'd likely have to fight defensively and wait for openings. He lacked the strength to overpower anyone.

No more delays. He edged along the wall, eyes and ears open despite the pounding in his head. Gloria had to be on her way by now. He just had to keep himself in one piece—or as close as he could get—until they met up.

His heartrate picked up every time he had to peek around a corner. The next one he faced could easily hold his salvation—or his downfall.

There were sounds of a scuffle up ahead. Dick raised his escrima and stayed hidden, prepared for the worst. A thud and a grunt. Possibly male. Assuming Gloria was in that fight, she was fine. But what if it had been a bat? Or Tiger?

“Whoever's hiding around the corner, you may as well show yourself.” Gloria's voice. Thank God. Dick rounded the corner and it took all his willpower not to sink to the floor in relief.

Gloria was dressed in the standard Spyral t-shirt and slacks today—unlike her usual business casual—and stood over another agent who lay facedown on the floor.

“Just a moment,” Gloria said, pulling open the nearest door. A cleaning closet. She dragged the unconscious man inside and shut the door, shearing the handle off with some kind of laser knife. “That should buy us some time. Did you restrain Bannon?”

“Until he gets himself uncuffed, yeah.”

“Then we better get moving.” Gloria stuck her laser thing back on her belt and pulled Dick's arm over her shoulders. “How are you travelling?”

“Slowly.”

“Slow and steady wins the race, my dear.”

“I knew I should've asked that medical hallucination tortoise for pointers.”

Gloria's answering chuckle drilled into Dick's skull. Not a great omen for times ahead. Dick tried to use the wall instead of her whenever possible, just in case someone took them by surprise.

Gloria tapped an earpiece secured into her, well, ear. “Package acquired. On the way to rendezvous now.”

“I always knew I was a gift.” Even thinking up that line made his head hurt. Shame he was practically incapable of shutting up, even at the best of times.

Gloria smiled indulgently. “I'm in touch with Matron and your friends. We couldn't sneak Tiger a communicator, but his orders are clear. We'll either meet him at rendezvous or, if he's faster than us, he'll keep moving until he finds us.”

It was just as well Gloria knew where they were going, because every corridor looked exactly the same to Dick. He couldn't tell if it was his fried brain or the fact this building was created without any actual creativity.

Dick and Gloria pressed themselves up against a corner, listening for activity on the other side. How many corners did this one corridor have anyway? Gloria gently pushed Dick's shoulder against the wall, a silent signal to stay put. She peered around as she slid the handgun from the holster on her waist. Now wasn't the time for moralising about guns, even if Dick's conscience twinged.

Gloria slid out and Dick had to stop himself from holding his breath. A soft thud and Gloria gently called him out of hiding. She was already in the process of stuffing another unconscious agent into the nearest room.

“You're efficient,” Dick said, quieter than before. His head was getting worse.

“I never thought I'd be back in the field.” Gloria sliced the door handle off. “It's invigorating, but I'm ready to go back into retirement.” She holstered her gun. “Matron told me all about your aversion to guns, so don't worry. I'll only shoot if necessary. Hitting people with them is more fun anyway.”

They kept walking, Dick leaning more heavily on the wall with each step. His feet were heavier than he remembered and his skull was slowly shrinking, squeezing his brain like a sponge. If they didn't get to rendezvous soon, he was going to be in trouble.

“We don't have far to go,” Gloria assured him, but her voice was like a hammer right on his forehead. “Just keep moving.”

The attack had begun right on time and Tiger proceeded straight to the rendezvous point, where he found Jason tying up a pair of unconscious agents and shoving them in a closet.

“Got two presents waiting for you at rendezvous, boss,” Jason said into his communicator, kicking the door shut. “And they're not dead. I deserve a raise.”

“Batman does not pay you,” Tiger told him, checking the safety on the pistol he was carrying at his waist. The thing felt like it weighed a ton and he didn't want it. As soon as this fight was over, Jason could have it. He didn't care.

“Then he should start,” Jason replied. “Most of the fam is clearing the main entrance. Black Bat and I snuck through other entrances to clear a path to rendezvous. You met up with Nightwing yet?”

“No. Plans changed. A loyal agent should be with him.”

“Let's go find him, just in case.” Jason tapped the communicator in his ear. “Black Bat, I've cleared the rendezvous point and I'm going on ahead with Tiger to make sure Nightwing is in one piece. Hold the fort.” He listeneed for a moment, and then snorted. “It's a figure of speech. It means—never mind. Keep the rendezvous point clear. I'll see you soon.” He headed for the door on the opposite end of the room. “I've studied the blueprints your boss sent, but there's no substitute for first-hand knowledge.”

“Understood.” Tiger took point. The route to the cells was burned into his mind. He sometimes walked it in his dreams and it never ended happily. Jason had forgone his full helmet for a domino mask today. Tiger was glad for that. He needed a friendly face after everything that had happened these past few days.

“Bertinelli mentioned Nightwing wasn't in fighting condition,” Jason said.

“He was until last night.” Tiger didn't feel like elaborating.

“If we find Bannon on the way, I fully intend to shoot him.”

Helena's voice floated in from somewhere above them. “If I don't shoot him first.” She dropped down from a hole in the wall above them. “Secret passage.” She tossed Tiger an earpiece. “Gloria has confirmed Nightwing is with her and Bannon is at least temporarily restrained in the torture chamber.” She forged on ahead, not bothering to check if Tiger and Jason were following her. They were, for the record. When Matron led, you followed.

“What your group frequency?” Jason asked. Helena gave him a number and he passed it on to the other bats. “Helloooo, Nightwing?”

Dick's voice crackled to life in Tiger's ear, tired but there. “Hood, my head is hurting far too much to deal with that level of cheeriness.”

“Are you okay?” Tiger asked before Jason could be a smartass.

“Been better.”

“We're moving steadily,” Gloria added. “Where are you?”

“About halfway to your starting point,” Helena replied. “We should cross paths shortly. The most direct route is through the mission room, but it's a good place for an ambush so be careful.”

Nightwing snorted but groaned in pain immediately afterwards. “An ambush would be a waste. I'm not sure I can take the chivalrous types who formally announce themselves before punching me.”

“You keep complaining of a headache,” Gloria said. “Maybe you should stop talking.”

Jason snickered. Tiger was too worried to see the humour. Anything could go wrong. Dick and Gloria could be ambushed. A member of Dick's family could die. Bannon could overcome whatever restraints were keeping him out of the fight. Alia could come early and bring backup with her.

Batman's voice filled the line; he sounded different on the job, unlike most of Dick's family. “Entrance is clear. Proceeding to rendezvous. Red Robin, set those traps.”

“On it. If anyone comes through the front entrance, we'll know about it.”

“Black Bat, do you have the other entrances trapped?”

“Yes.”

Jason clapped his hands together. “All right. Let's pick up Nightwing and then we can sweep the facility for any agents we missed.”

“We've trapped a few in closets along the way,” said Gloria.

“She sheared off the door handles, so good luck getting to them,” added Nightwing.

“Whatever you used to do that, I want one,” said Jason.

“Focus,” Helena ordered. “Gloria, how close are you to the briefing room?”

“It's just up ahead.”

“Hole up in there until we get to you.”

Tiger was silently grateful Helena moved them faster. He was barely stopping himself from breaking into a run. Every moment he and Dick were separated felt like an invitation for something terrible to happen.

“We're in the briefing room,” said Gloria. “Wait. I think we were followed.”

“Move it!” Helena broke into a run. They turned a corner.

“We can seal—damn it!” Nightwing's voice was strained. “Gloria's down. Now it's just me and... fuck.” His voice shrank to a whisper. “Alia has a passenger. And here I thought we were finally done with Daedalus.” Then he was speaking loudly, barely concealing the panic in his tone. “Hey, dude. Long time no see. Did you do something with your hair?”

“Keep him talking,” Helena ground out. “We're nearly there.”

“She's not due for another fifteen minutes,” Tiger muttered.

“If Bannon isn't answering her calls, she may have known something was wrong.”

The door was just up ahead. Tiger caught a glimpse of black and blue, the swirl of a coat, before the door slid shut. Helena was too close to slow down and barely got her arms out before she slammed into it.

“You two, go around,” she ordered, digging her fingernails into the almost-invisible metal panel in the wall beside the door. “I'll try to get this thing open. Do whatever it takes once we get in there.” She tore a wire out. “You hear me? Whatever it takes.”

Tiger hadn't run this hard in a long time. He could only hope Dick could hold out.

Dick could barely recognise Alia behind the hat, sunglasses and coat. He supposed it wasn't really her anymore. Who knew how long she had been infected? Was there even a way to get Daedalus out of her at this point?

Gloria was lying facedown and unconscious in the middle of the room. She'd been taken by surprise, leaving Dick locked in a room with a dead supervillain supercharging the body of the woman who had once been Alia. And Alia hadn't been a pushover in the first place.

Helena was in his ear, telling him to stall Daedalus while she tried to get the door open. Finally, Dick's big mouth could do something useful. He'd been itching to thrash someone verbally the whole time he had been in this hellhole.

“How long have you been taking up space in her brain?” he asked Daedalus, who hadn't yet moved to take Dick out like he had with Gloria. “And not even paying rent. How rude.”

“Every good scientist needs a control.” Daedalus smirked, leaning on his cane. “I planted the seed long before you caught onto my plans with Helena Bertinelli.”

“I'm not sure that's how a control works.”

“Agent 8 has certainly given me valuable data on the degree of control I can achieve when not pressed for time.”

“Yeah, I still don't think that's not how a scientific control works.” Dick leaned up against the desk that would usually be occupied by Spyral's director; he needed to lean on something but also couldn't risk looking too weak. “But I don't have a doctorate, so maybe I'm wrong.” He really needed to collapse on the floor, but that wasn't an option right now. “So, exactly how much control do you have over Alia? Is there any part of her left?”

Seeing Daedalus's creepy smile on Alia's lips was about as disconcerting as it had been on Helena's. “Planning a gallant rescue, are you? I hardly think you're in a position to save anyone.”

“Well, you know me. Hero complex and all that.”

“A fitting end for Nightwing, then.” Daedalus charged forward, swinging his cane. Dick dashed out of the way, avoiding the strike by inches. He was nowhere near fast enough for this.

“Really? That's your supervillain line?” Dick had to duck another swing. It wasn't even worth using his escrima, really, when he lacked the strength. He didn't have to win this fight; he just had to survive. “Alia, if you're in there, you can fight this. You don't have to do what he tells you to.”

“Alia is gone, Nightwing!” Daedalus managed to catch Dick's shoulder with the cane this time, and the pain that erupted almost made him black out where he stood. “But, by all means, keep appealing to a dead woman. It amuses me.”

Alia was not a good person. Dick knew this. But she didn't deserve to have her life end this way. No one did. Perhaps it would have been kinder to let Tiger shoot her, but he couldn't go back and change things now.

Dick slipped when he next dodged the cane, landing hard on his front. “Do you ever get tired of being such an asshole?” His right hand found a stapler. “You're nothing but a parasite. You can't even exist without sucking someone else dry!” He flung the stapler with all his might, which wasn't much, but it put Daedalus off-balance enough that Dick could find his feet again. His legs were shaking. He needed that door open yesterday.

“You're more right than you could even begin to imagine.” Daedalus twirled his cane once before tapping the base of it against the floor. “You see, Alia tried to fight me, much like you did. By the time she knew I was there, of course, it was too late. But I had to force control more violently than I would have preferred, and I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left.”

“Serves you right,” Dick said viciously. He was sick of playing word games or pretending to let things slide off his back.

Daedalus's next strike took him by surprise, knocking the wind out of his abdomen. “How fortuitous, then, that I have you here in such a weakened state?”

The shaking was getting worse. Dick couldn't keep this up much longer. He batted the cane away and ducked out of range again, but he couldn't do this forever.

“You only infected me so easily last time because I let you.” Dick found a paperweight and hurled it at Daedalus's face, but Daedalus ducked this time. “I'm not feeling so charitable anymore.” He had no idea if he could back up his words with action, but he wasn't about to let his last act be one of meekness. If he was gonna die, he would go kicking and screaming.

Daedalus loomed closer and Dick braced himself to keep playing the most exhausting game of keep-away he would ever play in his life.“You are oddly defiant for a man barely able to stand.”

“Runs in the family.” Dick's vision was definitely swimming now and he did not need that. There were so many things wrong with him that he wasn't even feeling them all. The headache had somehow dimmed, but that didn't mean it was getting better. His brain was just trying to prioritise the worst of the pain.

What was taking Helena so long?

Apparently Daedalus could feel the threat of time himself, because he pulled out a pistol. “I heard interesting stories about your from Bannon.”

Dick couldn't afford to waste any more energy on chatting, so he made do with raising an eyebrow, brace to dodge at any moment.

“Apparently our fine Agent 1 lured you here. Or is that wrong? Perhaps it was your plan all along? One additional inside man to tip the odds in Batman's favour.”

Daedalus fired, but Dick was already throwing himself towards the desk. He wasn't strong enough to reach it in one go and his landing, sprawled on the ground, was less than graceful, but at least the bullet missed. He crawled for cover, plastering himself to the floor as another shot went off.

“I'm not doing to kill you yet, Dick Grayson. I need your body.”

Dick wondered privately if his body, as wrecked as it was from the torture, would be of any use to Daedalus anyway. But there was only one way to find that out and he wasn't about to allow it. No matter whether he won or lost, he was not going to let Daedalus possess him. He didn't have the strength to fight Daedalus off if he managed to get inside Dick's head. In the event of failure, that only left one option. An option he didn't want to take. To come this far, to survive this long, only to die with rescue right on the opposite side of the door would be such an awful end. But better that than possession.

Dick just had to fight with everything he had to avoid reaching that point, if he could. If Helena could just get that door open...

Daedalus's shots were getting closer, his cane landing more often. Dick was slowing down and there was nothing he could do about it. Gloria stirred the tiniest amount but fell still again. It was unlikely she was present enough to be any help anyway, given how long she had been out.

Dick had to keep flitting between the desk for cover and the rest of the room for space. He dived behind there once more, his arms giving out beneath him as he landed. The gun fired. A sharp pain exploded in his calf. Daedalus had shot through the tiny gap between the desk and the floor.

Breathe through the pain. Ignore it. There's no time to nurse wounds. Get up. Get up.

Dick dragged himself to his feet but Daedalus was already upon him. The cane struck his shoulder, his gut, his head. He staggered and his legs went on strike, leaving him in a pile on the floor.

Keep moving. Any way you can.

Dick shuffled backwards on his ass, even as Daedalus stepped closer. His head hit the wall. Hard. Pain rippled down from the top of his head, all the way down his neck and back. To his left was a corner, and Daedalus was angled just slightly to his right, cutting off that avenue of escape. Dick slumped against the wall. This was it.

Daedalus grinned down at him, prodding at the bleeding wound on Dick's leg with his cane. “Finally.”

Maybe Dick could get the gun off him. He probably wouldn't expect that, would he? Or at least get a grip on it so he could set it off. He couldn't hope to break Daedalus's grip outright. His only hope of survival lay in Helena getting that door open, but time was running out. He couldn't delay much longer.

“If you don't resist, you will survive longer,” Daedalus said.

A growl forced its way out of Dick's throat. “Me? Or you?” The exertion had robbed Dick of his oxygen, but he wasn't exactly using it to run around trying not to die so he may as well talk some more shit before committing to this.

Daedalus crouched before him, wisps of Alia's blonde hair falling in front of the glasses. “Now, stay very still and this will all be over soon.”

Then several things happened in quick succession. A whooshing of doors. Three voices. Three rapid bangs. Blood. Daedalus's weight collapsed onto Dick.

Heavy footsteps. Daedalus's weight gone. Dick was halfway across the room to Gloria on his hands and knees before his focus returned. Jason was crouched over Daedalus's—Alia's—body, holding two guns. One was identifiably his. The other was Spyral standard issue.

Time caught up. The doors at both ends of the room were open. Across the room, Helena was helping Gloria sit up. Dick was completely out of breath by the time he reached them.

Jason was talking. “If anyone asks, I borrowed your gun because one of mine jammed. Helena and I shot. You didn't.”

Tiger was leaning heavily against the doorframe closest to Jason, face ashen. “I do not want to—”

“Can it, Tiger. I'll take care of this. Go check on your boyfriend and stop him from breaking any more land speed records before we've stopped his bleeding.”

“Get over here, Tiger,” Helena ordered, probing the growing lump on the back of Gloria's head. Gloria was conscious now, at least, even if she wasn't as alert as Dick would have liked.

Tiger unfroze and dashed across the room, whipping a bandage and a sterile wipe from his pocket. “Give me your leg.”

“Hello to you, too.” The wipe stung like nobody's business and Dick absolutely saw stars for a few moments there. Then it was over and the bandage was around his calf. Apparently the bottom of his pants had been ripped off at some point without Dick noticing. He wasn't noticing a lot of things at the moment.

Then his face was smushed against Tiger's chest, the man's frantic voice in his ear. “Jaanaana. Focus. Are you injured anywhere else?”

Breathing was difficult, but Dick couldn't tell if that was Tiger's grip, his own exhaustion, a potential lung injury—please no—or the sheer relief that he had been rescued.

“Everywhere,” he managed, pulling back to watch Jason, who was still crouched over Alia/Daedalus. “Spyral's gunpowder is different from yours, Jay. Think of the gunshot residue.”

“Good point.” Jason then fired Tiger's gun and his own into the body. “Problem solved.”

“How are we dealing with the residue on Tiger?” There was something to be said for concern about a loved one that could sharpen the mind and dull pain.

“Do not help him do this, Dick,” Tiger said through his teeth.

Jason responded as if Tiger hadn't spoken. “Well, he's covered in blood so as long as we make sure to get rid of his clothes and he washes thoroughly before Bruce can even think to test him, we can make it work.”

“And that will not make him suspicious at all,” Tiger muttered. You knew things were bad when he of all people resorted to sarcasm.

“Suspicion is better than knowledge.” Jason holstered both guns. “Listen. We're doing this for a reason. You did the right thing, but you know how the big guy is.”

Tiger's voice dropped so low even Dick had to strain to hear it. “What if it wasn't the right thing?”

“Alia was possessed for a long time, T,” Dick said. “It wasn't her anymore.” He had to pause for breath, holding up his hand to stop Tiger from cutting him off. “If you three hadn't shot, that could've been me.” It wasn't a great idea to mention he'd planned to shoot himself with Daedalus's gun to avoid that. So he kept that to himself. Talking was getting harder anyway. Air. A marching band pounding on his head. A stinging gunshot wound. A bone-deep weariness that threatened to drag him under if he let his guard down for a second.

“Tiger,” said Gloria, rubbing her forehead vigorously as if that alone would chase away the possible concussion. “You did the right thing. There was no time for a more elegant solution.”

“If there even was one,” Helena added. “Don't drown yourself in guilt for doing what you had to do. In fact, that's my final order as Matron. As soon as everything in this building is destroyed, we're free. Don't waste that.”

“Listen to the boss,” said Jason.

Tiger gazed for a long moment at Alia's body. Then he sighed so deeply that he seemed to deflate. “We should get back to rendezvous.”

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 18

@prettybeefballs @iontorch @darkmagicianknight

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

All chapters

Read on AO3

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 5.8k (this chapter)

Summary: The interrogator has a few tricks up his sleeve.

Notes: More torture. Mentions of a real technique but the one actually shown is a machine I made up.

Chapter 18

Dick was relieved to find Tiger was put back on caretaking duties. However, he no longer hung around once his job was done. The most he touched Dick outside of medical necessity was to squeeze his hand. They couldn't risk Bannon walking in on them again.

Bannon pushed the both of them even harder in interrogation. He still favoured electrocution and other methods that didn't require physical force. Maybe he didn't want to give Tiger a chance to hold back. Each session stretched longer than the last.

Dick needed this to end.

After one particularly packed day—Dick now knew what waterboarding felt like, and wished he didn't—Tiger still came to fetch him late that night.

Dick barely held back a groan. “What now?”

“Bannon needs you upstairs,” Tiger said dully, securing cuffs around Dick's already raw wrists. Even the loosest setting Tiger dared use felt like burning against his skin.

Tiger escorted him out of the cell block and into the facility proper. Helena was waiting by one of the doors in the world's most boring hallway.

“One of Dr Netz's machines is in there,” she warned. “It never made it past the prototype stage. It was designed as a torture device that left no lasting effects, but every test subject has suffered long-term physical ailments if used too long. So don't be a smartass.”

Just one more day, Dick reminded himself. Tomorrow, his family would arrive and they would get out of here. He had to keep himself in one piece for the occasion.

“You seen this thing before?” Dick asked Tiger, who shook his head.

They stepped inside. Helena didn't follow.

The machine took up most of the room, with big metal boxes of computer shit, a vertical gurney covered in straps, and an enormous control panel manned by Bannon and one of Netz's scientist protégés. Gloria hovered near another panel that appeared to be a heartbeat monitor.

“Strap him in,” said Bannon. “Tightly, if you please. We wouldn't want our friend hurting himself, now would we? And don't forget the electrodes.”

Dick was already worn out from three torture sessions during the day. But he couldn't do anything about it, so he let Tiger lead him to the gurney, dodging electrodes and metal spikes and other nasty shit. Tiger helped him step onto the platform and pulled the straps tight across his body. Dick's arms were trapped by his sides, which immediately freaked him right out. The scientist stepped forward to attach some of the electrodes to Dick's temples, which didn't help matters.

Tiger and the scientist retreated behind the control panels, leaving Dick up there alone. A glass dome slid into place around the lower half of his body.

“This machine is designed to help interrogators extract information,” Bannon said. He nodded to the scientist and the machinery inside the dome began to whirr and shift. A metal spike pressed against Dick's thigh and other, more blunt metal arms followed suit, creeping him the fuck out and they hadn't even done anything yet.

“The machine is primed for stage one, sir,” said the scientist.

“His vitals are up and running,” Gloria added. No hiding how much the machine freaked Dick out, then.

Bannon placed one hand on the control panel, leaning into it with a locked straight arm, and smiled up at Dick. “I have been very patient over these past few days. Despite your resistance, you have provided useful information. However, the questions I wish to ask now, I expect you will not answer without additional persuasion.” Bannon's shoulder gave an audible pop as he leaned more deeply into his hand. “Now, first question. Spyral had a file containing identifying information about the superhero community. It is missing. What have you done with it?”

“Nothing,” Dick answered. Helena had removed it herself. She probably had a copy as insurance, but Dick didn't know for certain.

“Are you sure?”

“I never witnessed him accessing such a file,” Tiger supplied.

“Perhaps he did so without your knowledge.” Bannon nodded to the scientist, who pressed a button.

Dick's head split with pain and he flopped against the restraints. His vision burst and suddenly everything was too bright and loud and he was drowning in it. Beeps turned to screams, whirrs into roars. If he could've covered his ears, he would have.

And then it stopped. He sucked down huge lungfuls of air as his head throbbed in protest.

“That was just a taste of what this machine can do,” said Bannon. “Now what did you do with that file?”

“Nothing.” Dick's voice cracked on the word. If his hands were free right in this moment...

“Again,” Bannon said to the scientist.

It was worse this time, sharper, louder in his head, coursing throughout his whole body. Somehow, it tipped over the brink, and suddenly it dimmed, quietened, but then there was a sharp pain in his thigh and he was back. He hadn't escaped. The metal spike had jammed into his leg, injecting something that forced him awake.

Fuck it. He screamed.

The room was pulsing, turning, blurring, burning. This wasn't Spyral. This was hell. He had died and gone to hell.

And then it stopped. Tiger's eyes were boring into him, but that was the last place he could look right now. The metal spike detached itself from his thigh, which fucking hurt.

“I'll ask again,” said Bannon.

“I had nothing to do with that file, you fucking asshole.”

“Then who removed it?”

“I don't know.” Now he was lying. If Bannon wouldn't accept that, maybe he'd have to lie again, pretend that he actually did delete the file. Claim it was gone and there was nothing anyone could do about it. That was only if he had to, though. Bannon would take far too much pleasure in punishing him for that. And he couldn't even pass out to get away from it because of whatever drugs had been in that spike-needle-thing.

Bannon watched him for a long moment, but then shrugged and moved on. “Very well. Turn the machine up to the next level. This next question will require more persuasion.”

“Remember you can't give him another dose of the wakeup drug for another four hours,” Gloria said. “The side-effects would make him incoherent until the original dosage stops taking effect.”

“Is the calibration complete?” Bannon asked the scientist, who nodded. “Good. Now, Nightwing. Owing to the fact our superhero files were stolen and our technology hampered, identifying you and your Gotham compatriots has proven quite difficult. You're going to help me with that.”

Like hell, Dick thought. He kept his mouth shut. Tiger had raised his eyebrow behind Bannon's back. It wasn't exactly a secret the Gotham vigilantes kept their identities particularly close to their chests. Asking one of them to give up that kind of information would be less productive than talking to a brick wall. Dick had plenty of experience with that, having been raised by a brick wall himself.

To be perfectly honest, Bannon probably just wanted an excuse to fry Dick to within an inch of his life, if not further.

The man's smirk was enough to inspire pacifists to declare war. “Now, where shall we start? Ah, yes. Why exactly does your face not exist to facial recognition software?”

“Uh, because that'd defeat the purpose of the whole secret identity thing?”

“How did Batman manage to infiltrate every piece of this software I have encountered?”

“Because he's Batman.” Any futher explanation would require digging into Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne leveraging his connections with other companies that produce that kind of software, and the Justice League's space station that had technology designed to detect when a member of the community was at risk of exposure.

Bannon nodded to the scientist and the pain drilled into Dick's skull all over again. Light burst in his vision, which didn't help one bit.

“How has Batman gotten his hands on the software?” Bannon asked once it had stopped.

Dick took a few deep breaths before he could answer the way he wanted to. “Because he's a technological genius you can never hope to match. Ask him if you want the details. I just reap the benefits. Next question.”

Bannon eyed him for a solid minute. Dick didn't give him the satisfaction of breaking eye contact.

They moved on. “Very well. Next question it is. How many vigilantes affiliated with Batman reside in Gotham City?”

“I don't talk to everyone. I couldn't tell you.” This was true. Dick had a rough idea, but there were a few part-timers and newer heroes he didn't know very well. And Catwoman was anyone's guess regarding what side she was on.

“With your friendly reputation?”

“That was before Spyral, buddy.”

“Do you really expect me to believe you don't know who is operating within your own city?”

“As long as Batman knows, fine by me.”

“So Batman's word is law? That's how it is?”

“Obviously.” Dick wasn't quite picking up on the point of this line of questioning, but he couldn't tell if that was the lingering pain or Bannon being particularly squirrelly.

“And you have never disobeyed his orders?”

“I disobey a lot of people.”

“Does he know you're here?”

Ah. So that was the point. He wanted to know if Batman was about to mount a rescue.

“He forbade me from coming,” Dick said, which was somewhat accurate, even if Batman had ultimately relented.

“Does he know you ignored his orders?”

“I don't know. I don't usually tell people I'm about to disobey them.” Hopefully the vitals Gloria monitored wouldn't give away the lie, given the torture had probably thrown them off already. She certainly wouldn't tell Bannon if they did, but he could always look for himself. And then they would all be in trouble.

“And what exactly did you intend to do here?”

“I had received assurances that Spyral was heading in a less shitty direction. I came to see for myself. We all know what happened next.”

“And how likely is it that Batman is going to appear on our doorstep?”

“No idea. As much as I'd like to live in a fantasy world, it wouldn't serve me well to pretend he knew I'd been captured at this particular location.”

“If he did know, it wouldn't serve you well to tell the truth, would it?”

“I don't know what to tell you, man.”

“Maybe more persuasion will help clear up your confusion.”

It was longer this time. The pain, which had been concentrated in his head, exploded downwards into his neck, his already overtaxed shoulders, his chest, legs, feet. Everywhere. His teeth were fucking rattling.

Hell, they were screeching, right there in his mouth. It was all too bright, too loud, too sharp. A monstrous merry-go-round of pain and noise and light and death, whirling faster and faster and he screamed and screamed and begged to get off the ride.

His head was going to explode or his neck would snap or he would burn from the inside out—eyes popping, eardrums exploding, throat tearing—until there was nothing left but a smoking skeleton and then—only then—would he know peace.

“Enough,” said Bannon. The pain stopped. “Now, tell me the truth. Does Batman know you are here?”

That last bout had left Dick physically shaken, his stomach staging a protest. He swallowed against it. “No.”

“Do we need to go another round?” said Bannon. Tiger twitched, just a touch, beside him. Neither of them could afford the truth to come out. No matter how much he had to endure, it was better for Batman to be able to infiltrate the facility as planned than it would be for Dick to be in fighting shape. They could work around his condition, but Spyral anticipating the attack would leave the whole plan in shambles and then Dick would never get the fuck out of here.

The scientist adjusted the settings on the control panel once more and the machine began a deep, bone-rattling hum. Dick had to endure this.

He had to.

Hours later, Gloria tended to Dick, who had finally lost consciousness, in the cell. Tiger didn't want to leave.

“I've got this covered,” Gloria kept telling him. It didn't help.

Dick hadn't changed his answer, not even when Bannon changed tactics, leaving the machine running and swearing only to stop it when Dick provided the answers he wanted. Alia's imminent return had made him desperate for have something to show for the days of having a captured vigilante with no directorial oversight. Eventually, however, even the wakeup drug waned just enough that it couldn't stand against Dick's body trying to protect itself and he had passed out. There were perhaps two more hours until he could be dosed again, but it was late at night and there were preparations to be made for Alia's arrival so Tiger sorely hoped they were done with this.

“Tiger,” Gloria said firmly, at odds with her gentle hands probing the base of Dick's skull. “You need to report to Helena, make sure she knows Dick will be of limited use tomorrow. I'll medicate him best I can, but he will need help. The longer you're down here, the smaller your window to discuss that.”

Tiger forced a breath. She was right. With Bannon's suspicion, it would not be long before he sought Tiger out to make sure he wasn't misbehaving. It seemed unlikely Bannon knew the true depth of Tiger's allegiances, but at the very least he seemed concerned that Tiger was experiencing far too much empathy for Dick's suffering.

Helena was still seated at the desk in her office despite the lateness of the hour. “I expected you ten minutes ago. Report.”

Tiger rested his hands on the back of the nearest chair, but couldn't bring himself to sit down. “Bannon believes Batman knows Nightwing is here. Nightwing refused to corroborate that and passed out from the sustained torture. Gloria is tending to him.” Forcing himself to speak like this, like the person he cared for most in the world had not just suffered terribly before his eyes, took everything he had.

Helena drummed her fingers on the tabletop, frowning. “We will have to tread carefully, then.”

“Gloria believes his fighting ability will be limited.”

“I'll have you and Gloria help him as soon as you're able tomorrow.”

“Did you find anything useful?” Tiger didn't even try to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Using Dick's torture as a diversion so Helena could keep digging for information left a bad taste in his mouth. Allowing that machine to exist—how had Helena thought such a thing did not deserve to be destroyed?—made him furious.

“I found the automated alarm system. Batman and his allies can infiltrate the building entirely without detection. Of course, if someone sees them and manually raises the alarm, that advantage is gone.”

“Was it worth it?”

“Given we have little control over what Bannon does to—”

“The machine, Helena. That thing should have been destroyed.”

“I thought it was,” Helena admitted. “I ordered them all decommissioned as soon as the dust settled. Alia must have had access to one I didn't know about. She and Dr Netz kept many things hidden from me.”

Tiger swallowed down his anger, even though he wanted to throw something. “As soon as we have control of this place, destroy that thing.”

“I intend to.” Helena pushed back her chair. “It's late. We both need rest. I understand your frustration, but it is not productive in our current situation.”

That only made Tiger want to stab something now, but she had a point. He would just have to wait until the fight tomorrow. He could channel all his feelings into violence then.

Tiger had been neglecting his prayers these past few days, but there was still time to wash up for the final prayer of the night. He missed the peace it brought him.

There was no place of worship in this place, so he made do with his bedroom. He had almost forgotten what this was like. Slowing down, for a short time, to connect with something bigger than himself. Bigger than this whole mess they were in.

The process calmed him enough that he thought maybe, just maybe, he could sleep tonight.

Until Bannon barged in at the end, of course, like the piece of shit he was. “What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“That should be obvious, Bannon.” Tiger lifted his Quran, which he had just closed. “I have met infants with better observation skills.”

Bannon made himself at home on the end of Tiger's bed; now Tiger would officially be incapable of sleeping there. “Shall we talk?”

“Can it wait until morning?” Or until never, as Dick would quip. Thinking about him only served to bring back the impotent rage Tiger had managed to set aside. So much for peace.

“I'd prefer if it didn't.”

Tiger put his Quran away and leaned against the nearest wall. “Fine. Spit it out.”

“I understand your decision to hand Nightwing over to Spyral has put you in a difficult position.”

“I would prefer if you spoke plainly.” Tiger did not have the patience for this feigned concern and genteel bullshit Bannon liked to wear like a coat every once a while, before a shift in weather allowed him to discard it, now that it no longer served his purposes.

“You appear to feel remorse for choosing to remain loyal to Spyral rather than your lover. You have reacted poorly to his interrogations. I am concerned you will be unable to do what must be done when the director returns and provides orders regarding our prisoner.”

Tiger had to fight to keep his expression unreadable, even as his blood chilled inside him. Whether the order came immediately or not, Alia would eventually have Dick killed. Assuming the plan he had created with Helena and Batman worked, Dick would not remain imprisoned long enough for this to be an issue. But it was still a cause for concern. If something went wrong and Batman's attack was delayed too long, Dick could die. That could not be allowed to happen.

“This still does not explain why you have invaded my bedroom at this hour.” It wasn't hard to show irritation. Tiger was plenty irritated, and more.

“I think it best we put you under arrest until the boss's orders have been delivered and carried out.” Bannon plucked a keycard from his pocket. “Fortunately, I can lock you in this room rather than dragging you into a cell. You will have all your usual comforts.”

A wild thought crossed Tiger's mind that maybe he could fight and overpower Bannon right now, hide him somewhere until the attack. But Bannon had gotten the better of Tiger in their previous clashes, even when they had been on equal footing and Tiger was not chained to a wall and—he forced himself to cut that memory off before it took hold of him. Anything less than guaranteed success was too risky. So Tiger discarded the idea, for Dick's sake.

“If that is what you must do,” he forced out.

Bannon smiled benignly—when he was anything but—and patted Tiger's cheek on his way out. Tiger couldn't have stopped a flinch if he'd tried.

Tiger climbed into bed, even though he mind whirred far too fast for sleep. Perhaps it would happen eventually. All he could do now was hope Helena figured something was wrong when he didn't appear for breakfast in the morning.

Sleep did not come easily, but he found it.

And then the door creaked open, and he lost it again. Tiger whirled out of bed, seizing the nearest object—a lamp—as a weapon.

“I'm not here to kill you,” came Helena's voice, as the door snicked shut again. “Put that thing down.”

Tiger slammed it back on the nightstand. “Yes?” His patience had run out days ago, and that was before Helena had snuck into his room while he was trying to sleep. Never sneak up on a sleeping spy, even if Tiger did not consider himself much of a spy anymore.

“Gloria was coming to update you on Dick's condition,” she said. “She overheard Bannon speaking to you. We'll rearrange our plans. I'll assign Gloria to get Dick out of the cellblock as quickly as possible and meet with you at the extraction point, or on the way if you move quickly enough.” Tiger's room was on the other side of the extraction point, so they wouldn't miss each other. “She has already hidden his equipment in an adjacent cell and, if he is taken to the torture chamber, will provide him the means to free himself if Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure him.”

“How is he?”

“He woke briefly, coherent enough to understand what she said to him, but not in a condition to speak yet.” Helena pressed a copy of the keycard to Tiger's bedroom door into his hand. “Do not let them find that. Use it at 2100 hours.” When the attack would commence. Alia was expected half an hour after that. “If the time has to move forward, I will release you myself as soon as I have disabled the alarm system. Dick will need most of the day to recover enough to be worth interrogating, so he should not be in serious danger too early.”

Tiger hoped that would remain true. “Are you sure the agents we chose are loyal?”

“As sure as I can be in this business. Even if my assessment of the others is inaccurate, Gloria won't turn against me. Even if she wanted to, I know where her children live and have provisions in place should we not survive.”

Most other agents did not have loved ones who could be threatened like that. Once upon a time, Tiger had been one of them. Given what Dick had suffered because of him these past few days, maybe he should have stayed that way.

“Enough self-flagellation,” said Helena. “Go back to bed. We have a fight to win.”

Dick's head was killing him. Gloria had neglected to provide him pain relief all day, citing that it would be better if he remained useless until closer to go-time. It made sense to keep Bannon at bay, but Dick was fully prepared to jump out of his own skull. Even hearing Gloria's voice, soft as it was, had made him want to cry in agony. Sometimes Tim got these really bad migraines that knocked him flat for hours, though the severity had dropped off once he'd started taking medication—well, when he actually remembered to take it. Was this what it felt like? No wonder Bruce had benched him for a while.

Gloria's plan, as horrible as it was, apparently worked. Bannon didn't bother questioning him until well after dinner, when Gloria had finally relented and given him some pain relief.

“Where's Tiger?” Dick asked as Gloria led him—gently, by the elbow, like an old woman crossing the street—into the torture chamber.

“Bannon put him under house arrest,” Gloria said, quietly in deference to the lingering remnants of Dick's pain. “He doesn't suspect your ruse, but he also believes Tiger is too empathetic to tolerate your treatment for much longer.”

The bright lights of the chamber caused an explosion of more pain in Dick's head. Gloria led him to the chair.

“Close your eyes for a moment, dear.” The leather straps tightened around his legs. “Are these loose enough to allow for escape?”

Dick gripped the arms of the chair and kicked his legs forward, eyes open the tiniest amount to make sure he didn't hit Gloria. His ankles pulled free of the restraints. Gloria reset them and performed the same procedure on the wrist restraints until they were both satisfied he could force his way out if needed.

“Once the fighting starts, I'll come get you,” said Gloria. “Your equipment is hidden in the cell next to yours, beneath the bed. If Bannon attempts to kill or severely injure you, can you fight him?”

Days of torture, poor nutrition and yesterday's hell-machine had weakened him. But in this case, he would have the element of surprise if he played his cards right. Could he execute a headbutt without knocking himself out in this condition? He most likely would have to. He could possibly free one or two limbs before Bannon caught on, but he'd need the man distracted to do better than that.

Ideas were forming. The prospect of escape sharpened his mind.

“Yes,” he said. “Does he carry a gun?”

“Not while interrogating. He prefers a more personal touch.” Gloria smiled wryly. “I had a colleague like that once. Terrifying woman. She used to challenge the rest of the squad to fistfights. I only got out of it because I was their best medic and someone had to patch them up afterwards.”

“My kinda lady.”

“She would have hated you.”

“Some of my strongest friendships came from hatred.” The light wasn't killing him as badly now, but the throbbing was still there, an extra and unwanted heart living in his head.

Gloria shook her head at him. “I should leave. Only fight him if your life or fighting capability are in danger. Otherwise, I'll surprise him for you.” She pinched his cheek and left him in there alone.

So this was it. Soon, the fight would begin. Now he had to their endure Bannon one more time, or kick his sorry ass. Well, he had always hoped for the asskicking but he could wait if he had to.

Bannon arrived in short order, smiling as he often did. There was something particularly disturbing about it today, though. He wasn't just pleased he had a human chew toy. He was ecstatic. Hopefully not by having a human chew toy. Maybe he couldn't wait for Alia to get here. He could wait forever, as far as Dick was concerned.

“Today's a special day, Nightwing,” Bannon said fucking brightly, unrolling his leather toolkit of horrors.

“Is it your birthday? Gee, you should've told me. I would've gotten you something.” A boot in the ass, preferably. The night was still young.

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised not even last night could fix your attitude.” Bannon plucked a set of brass knuckles from the kit. “If I could put you back in there right now, I would. Sadly, I have been informed that could kill you. Another day, perhaps, assuming the boss doesn't have something else in mind.” It didn't take a genius to figure out Alia would likely have Dick killed instead. He hadn't been a particularly cooperative informant, not with the big things that really mattered.

“Who is the boss anyway?” Dick asked. “Someone I've met before?”

“I believe you have, yes.” Bannon was outright grinning now, as he slid the brass knuckles onto his fingers. “I hear you know her quite well, actually. Or, rather, she knows you.”

Hopefully, Alia had not been exempt from the wipe that erased Dick's identity from the minds and databases of everyone who was not supposed to have that information. Hard to say. In any case, she had not shared any information with Bannon, assuming she even knew Dick was here yet.

“Now,” said Bannon, “you were very adamant that Batman does not know you are here. Is that still your answer?”

“Yes.” As if he was going to ruin everything now.

“Even now that you've had time to think about it?”

“Yes. Next question.”

“How are you feeling today?”

“Seriously?” He may as well answer. It was the easiest question he was likely to get. “My head's killing me and your voice is even more grating than usual. No offense.”

“Neck pain?”

“A little. Not as bad as the head.”

“Weakness?”

“Some fatigue. You put me through the wringer even before that machine came into the picture.” It wasn't a good idea to telegraph exactly how much that had weakened him, though. If Bannon got too cocky, he might start fucking with Dick just for fun. Or just kill him if he didn't think he was useful anymore.

Had Dick been in a better condition, he probably would've noticed the fist coming before it hit, slamming and cutting his cheek. His head pounded so violently it was as if someone was beating him repeatedly with a hammer.

“How's the head now?” Bannon didn't have a fucking reason for that one. He just did it because he felt like it.

Fuck. His vision was swimming. And he kinda wanted to throw up.

Fortunately—or maybe unfortunately—Dick was saved from answering when Bannon pressed a finger to a communicator in his ear. “Boss?”

Well, shit.

“Good to hear, ma'am. I have news. We captured Nightwing.”

Dick blinked profusely until his head cleared, just a little, and he braced his hands against the arms of the chair. If the kill order came, he would fight. Even if he'd rather curl up into a ball and cry.

“Shall I wait for your return? Okay. Will do, ma'am.” The grinned that stretched Bannon's face was the most sickening to date. “Bad news, prettyboy. The boss has decided you're far more useful to us dead than alive.” His hands came down on top of Dick's and he leaned in. “How shall we do this, hmm? Short and sweet? Long and painful? Perhaps I should fetch your lover, or do you think he sympathises with you a little too much?”

His head was just out of Dick's headbutt reach. Just a little closer...

“I suppose we could chain him up so he couldn't interfere even if he wanted to. What a tragic pair you two make. Betrayed for duty, and he can't even take pride in a job well done. I hear he used to be a fine agent, until you ruined him.” Bannon came closer. “I bet that was your plan all along.”

Dick reared back with all the strength he could muster and slammed his head into Bannon's, angling it best he could to make sure the thicker part of his skull made contact. Bannon recoiled, ramming into the instrument table, holding his nose, and Dick, his head screaming and reeling, wrenched his arms and legs out of their restraints.

He had to press his advantage while he still had one. He leapt at Bannon, ripping the brass knuckles from his slackened hand, and slammed them into his face.

Bannon got his fingers around Dick's weakened wrist and squeezed, forcing him to drop the knuckles. Dick pressed his free forearm to the man's throat, slamming his foot onto the hand on that side until he stopped trying to move it. Bannon released his other hand, choking loudly, and tried to pry Dick's arm away, but it was easy enough to shove it away with the hand he'd just freed. Dick had the stronger position, even if he was currently weaker. He pressed his whole body weight down.

But Bannon kept wriggling, coming close to dislodging him. This wouldn't have been a problem if it hadn't been for that machine last night.

Bannon managed to roll onto his stomach, but Dick stayed on him, wrapping both his arms tightly around the man's throat as he crawled on his stomach towards the instrument table, which had dropped all its implements on the floor, mostly on the other side except for the stun gun. Fuck. Dick couldn't let him touch that, but he was having little luck stopping him.

He had to think of something else. They were approaching arm's reach. Dick shifted his grip to Bannon's shoulders, his feet finding purchase on the back of the man's thighs, and shoved himself ahead, grabbing the stun gun. He rolled, clumsily, finding a kneeling position. Bannon got his hands  under the table, reaching for something that glinted.

Dick shoved the stun gun against Bannon's neck and turned it on. He shrieked, arms flailing, body shaking. Dick felt with his free hand for the brass knuckles; just as well Batman had taught him how to punch with his left hand. He turned off the gun and slammed the knuckles into Bannon's temple.

Bannon went limp, but he would wake soon enough. Dick spied a set of handcuffs that had fallen off the table. Of course, now he had to drag Bannon somewhere he could use them. The chair was closest, and bolted into the floor. Dick secured one cuff around Bannon's wrist to free his hands, and got his hands under the man's armpits. He pulled. Bannon maybe moved an inch, if that. God damn it.

Dick pulled again. And again. He was already panting from the exertion but, little-by-little, Bannon slid in the direction he wanted.

Finally, he was close enough and Dick fed the cuff around the leg of the chair before securing the other cuff onto Bannon's remaining wrist. Bannon was already stirring, so Dick staggered out of the chamber, slamming the door shut.

He leaned against it for a second, catching his breath. Gloria had said his equipment was hidden under the bed in the cell next to his. Walking those few feet had him gasping for air all over again. He knelt on the floor beside the bed, uncertain he could even get up again, and slid his hand underneath until it hit a box. He dragged it out, lifting the lid. He'd missed that black and blue.

He dressed as quickly as he could while his body—head in particular—complained about what he had just done. In this condition, he had to find help, and quickly. Was it worth waiting in the cellblock for Gloria to find him, or would it be better to head to the rendezvous and meet her on the way?

What if one of Alia's agents decided to come down here to take him out as soon as the fighting started? Surely it couldn't be long now, if it hadn't already begun.

Dressed and equipped, Nightwing hauled himself into a seated position on the bed, catching his breath. He was weak and hurting, but at least he wasn't bleeding profusely or anything else that indicated he was about to die. He peered into the box, where Gloria had left one last thing:

One of Batman's low-dosage adrenaline injectors. Enough to help him get past the pain, but weaker than an EpiPen, which could cause health problems if used incorrectly.

Nightwing jammed it into his thigh. It wouldn't work for long, but at least it would get him on his feet. Now, to find Gloria before someone found him.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 17

@iontorch @darkmagicianknight @prettybeefballs

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

All chapters

Read on AO3

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 4.6k (this chapter)

Summary: Tiger didn’t want to do this.

Notes: I am very sorry. More torture, of the suffocation and electrocution varieties.

Chapter 17

Tiger had known all along this was going to happen, but that didn't mean he was ready. He could never be ready for this. Dick had been worn down by hours of being chained to that pole without food or water. There was only so much Tiger could do without arousing suspicion. Helena believed Bannon would know Tiger had helped Dick even the small amount that he had. Tiger could not bring himself to care.

Helena had a smaller office than she used to, when she was director of Spyral. She also took less pride in its condition, half-heartedly dusting it every so often when visitors were expected. There was one window, looking out at distant mountains. They were oddly hypnotising, or maybe that was simply Tiger's exhaustion leading him to stare at them for long periods of time before Helena would finally catch his attention.

Helena joined him at the window. “Can you do this?”

Tiger was unsure, but that answer would not satisfy her. “Yes.”

“It may be more difficult than anticipated,” Helena continued. “We didn't account for the deprivation treatment. He may not handle it as well as he would have otherwise.”

That had been weighing on Tiger's mind ever since he'd discovered Dick's situation a few hours ago. A tiny amount of food, water and bladder relief would not help much.

“You need to have the strength he won't have,” Helena said.

Tiger nodded curtly, eyes still fixed on the mountains. Better out there than in here. Why had he ever thought returning to Spyral had been a good idea? It was difficult to not be bitter about Bruce Wayne's behaviour now, given what it had ultimately led to. Tiger never should have let Dick become involved in this.

“Bannon is interrogating you as much as he is Dick. Remember that. Remember your cover. Do not let either of them see how much it hurts you. I'll use the time he's down there with you to break into the director's office.” The one that should've been hers, which Bannon was currently using but didn't actually own. That honour went to whoever was in charge now, whose identity Helena had taken upon herself to discover.

Bannon found the two of them in Helena's office shortly thereafter. Tiger had to fight nausea every time he saw the man. He hadn't had a single good night's rest ever since Bannon had shown his face here.

Bannon smiled horribly. “I have a job for you, Tiger.”

Tiger didn't bother asking what that was.

Bannon turned on his heel and marched out the door, evidently expecting Tiger to follow, which he did. “Our guest has provided some limited information, but his attitude irks me. I would rather not continue wasting time with his word games in order to receive scraps of information. Perhaps you can help with that.”

Tiger would have to communicate to Dick after this what Bannon wanted. Maybe if Dick acted defeated, Bannon would go easier on him. Tiger wouldn't know. He hadn't been captured for long enough to reach that point, even if it had not been far away when Dick found him.

Then again, doing that was totally outside Dick's nature. Maybe it wouldn't be convincing if one session with Tiger seemed to break him. The thought of needing more than that to convince Bannon Dick's changed attitude was real made Tiger feel sick all over again.

Stop thinking. Compartmentalise. Getting through this first trial was all that mattered right now.

Dick was still chained to the pole, pallid from both the terrible lighting and hours of restraint. His eyes sharpened when Bannon and Tiger entered, but not by much. Tiger couldn't determine whether it was the pain, hunger, thirst or just plain exhaustion that had dimmed him.

Tiger unchained Dick per Bannon's instructions and half-carried him to the chair, doing his best to ignore the half-swallowed gasp when Dick was forced to use his shoulders in any way. Tiger strapped him in, focusing on the leather straps rather than Dick's face. They both needed a moment.

Then Bannon handed Tiger a stun gun.

“Something easy for your first time with us,” said Bannon. “All you have to do is press a button when I say so.”

“You're a real asshole, you know that?” said Dick. His voice was scratchy, likely from dehydration.

“Shock him.”

Tiger touched the stun gun to Dick's torso, well away from his heart, and pressed the button for as short a moment as he dared. Dick jerked in his seat, but didn't make a sound. This time. It wouldn't take long for Dick's muscles to be exhausted in his current state. Potential burns aside, the buildup of lactic acid would, at the very least, result in aches and pains and general fatigue after this was over.

“Now, I am very interested in how you managed to seduce our friend here,” Bannon said to Dick.

Dick tried to shrug, gritting his teeth as he evidently remembered the shit his shoulders had just gone through. “Just kinda happened. Take your victories when you can, you know?”

“And...?”

Dick came visibly close to rolling his eyes. “We slept together a couple of times. Shit happens. I figured having Agent 1 on my side could be handy, so I took it further. Clearly, that ended well for me.”

Tiger consciously reminded himself there was no way Dick was about to tell the truth to Bannon. Not on this. They had been through enough to know their relationship was secure. Dick had come all the way out there for him, after all.

“Feel free to shock him again,” Bannon said. “He is being quite rude to you.”

That was less of an invitation and more of a thinly-veiled order. Tiger pressed the stun gun to Dick's torso again, earning another jerk and a grunt this time. Dick exhaled loudly afterwards, and probably wouldn't have remained upright if he wasn't strapped securely to the chair. This was wearing him out quickly, and Tiger was only doing the bare minimum.

“And how did you come to sleep together?” Bannon asked. Oddly personal.

“I don't do well with isolation. Realising that, Tiger came onto me. I rebuffed his advances, then realised it was probably a good idea. Get in his good graces.” Close to the truth, but not quite there. Sometimes it was better not to stray too far from the truth so it was easier to keep the story straight. Other times, like the Batman communication question, the further from the truth they were, the better.

“You are aware Spyral has rules about fraternisation, yes?”

“Which generally aren't enforced,” Dick pointed out. “Don't tell me no one knew I was sleeping with Agent 8 once upon a time.”

“Any other agent lovers I should be aware of?”

“If there were, you'd already know.”

“Is there a point to this?” Tiger found himself asking.

“Oh, I'm just trying to determine the true breadth of Nightwing's influence on our agents,” Bannon said mildly. “No matter. Nightwing has clearly proven he is incapable of hiding his sexual conquests.”

“I feel like I should be offended,” Dick said. Tiger wanted to tell him to shut up.

Blessedly, Bannon ignored that. “Where did you and Tiger go after leaving Spyral?” It was a question Bannon could've asked Tiger, but maybe it wasn't as fun to ask someone you weren't torturing at the present moment.

“Gotham, obviously.”

“How did you convince Tiger to leave with you?”

“Spyral was a mess after the Daedalus thing. I figured that was my best chance for getting out and, at the time, I believed Tiger to be of the same mind. Just as well he never met my family, then. I'd hate to tell the big guy I brought a traitor into the batcave.” Dick made sure to voice that last part very pointedly at Tiger, who showed no reaction. There had to be a reason for the lie. Perhaps it would be safer if Tiger didn't appear to know the identities of the Gotham vigilantes.

“You should shock him for that,” Bannon said.

Tiger had to oblige. Dick cried out once as his whole body stuttered, and groaned once it was over. Sweat was collecting at his hairline and he was breathing far too heavily for Tiger's liking.

“You should really curb that tongue of yours, Nightwing,” said Bannon. “It seems to be getting you into trouble.”

Dick opened his mouth to make a smartass reply, but apparently thought better of it at the last second. Good. Maybe they could get out of this without too much more pain.

“Ah, you're learning.” Bannon retreated to his table—Dick and Tiger both held their breath—and picked out a... plastic bag? “You might want to get that breathing under control, Nightwing, before I do it for you.”

Dick had already been quite pale due to his previous treatment. This did not help.

“Now, your fellow vigilantes in Gotham City have proven to be quite a thorn in Spyral's side,” said Bannon, shaking the bag out until it formed a more open shape. “They have proven quite adept at finding our footholds and removing agents from the city. How were they able to find our agents so easily?”

“Tiger and I were followed into the city,” Dick replied. “Not that hard to figure out there are Spyral agents there. The rest was good old-fashioned detective work.”

“They completely bypassed our dummy bases. How did they know to do that?”

Dick and Tiger had provided their share of information about operation tactics in the time they'd spent at Wayne Manor. But Tiger, according to Dick's lie, had never been there. Dick had provided useful information, but most of it had been Tiger's. Whether Bannon would believe Dick had provided all the information himself was anyone's guess.

Dick seemed to realise that, too, because he was playing hard to get with the information Bannon sought. As in, he remained completely silent. Tiger hoped he was doing that on purpose to make whatever clever lie he had seem more plausible when he finally shared it.

“Shock him. Don't stop until I say so.”

Tiger had been dreading that order. He placed the stun gun in a new position—Dick probably had a burn in the old one—and turned it on. Dick's body shook, teeth jammed together. Tiger wanted to stop already, but he couldn't. Dick grunted from the pain, again and again, louder each time. Tiger was of a mind to kill Bannon and get the both of them out of here. Fuck the mission.

When Bannon finally told him to stop, Dick barely had a moment to gasp before Bannon had shoved the bag over his head, wrapping the base tight around his neck to stop any more air from getting in. Dick jerked weakly, locked in place by the restraints and his exhaustion. Bannon only let up when Dick stopped moving.

Dick was conscious, but only barely. He sucked down air.

Bannon shoved the bag into Tiger's hands. “Now. I'm going to ask again. How did your allies know how to tell the difference between a dummy base and a real one?”

“I stole files,” Dick said quietly. He breathed. “Before.”

“Before you left Spyral?”

Dick nodded.

“What files?”

“Field ops. Decoy protocols. Agent assignment algorithms.” Dick and Tiger had taken a whole lot more than that, plus the information stored in their brains, but the less Bannon suspected Batman knew, the better.

“Of all the available files, that's all?”

“We were in a hurry.”

“And how did Batman receive this files from you?”

“Ever heard of a flash drive?” Dick bit out, apparently having recovered just enough to be pissed off by the whole situation. “I handed it to him. Did you think I used some kind of high-tech brain link to beam the information to him?”

Tiger backhanded him before he said anything else that would get him in trouble. He couldn't pull back his strength as much as he would've liked, given Dick's condition, so his head snapped right to the side. Dick closed his eyes for a moment.

“It seems you want us to hurt you,” said Bannon. Tiger wanted to say anger was a natural reaction to what he'd been through, but wasn't sure how to phrase it without sounding like he was defending Dick. Even if that was what he wanted to do.

“I am uncertain he will provide any more useful information in this state,” Tiger said, hoping that would suffice. “Additional torture would be more entertaining than useful at this time.”

“I am quite enjoying myself, I will admit. Shock him again.”

Damn it. Tiger found a new spot, still far enough from Dick's heart that it wouldn't cause immediate heart failure.

“Don't stop until I say so.”

Tiger pressed the button, half-watching Dick's reaction and half-watching Bannon putter around his table of torture implements, putting the plastic bag away, straightening his knives, stroking the hammer. Dick screamed, breathless, barely loud enough to count. Tiger had to force himself to keep doing this. Stopping now, raising suspicion, would make everything Dick had suffered utterly pointless.

Bannon packed up his kit, taking his time to make it all neat and ordered. Dick's head listed to the side, eyes closing, and it was only then that Bannon finally gave the signal to stop. He took the stun gun from Tiger's hand, sliding it into the leather toolkit.

Dick's head drooped forward, shirt transparent with sweat.

“Put him back in his cell,” Bannon said, smiling his way out the door.

Tiger reached for the nearest wrist strap, slowly feeding it out of the buckle until it was open. “Are you with me, Dick?”

Dick's breathing shifted deeper, but he didn't respond. Tiger unstrapped his other wrist and knelt to free his ankles.

It was that point Dick's breathing hitched, fingers on his uninjured hand clenching around the arm of the chair. He didn't try to move, even after his ankles were freed. Tiger leaned sideways, to try and meet Dick's eyes. They were still closed, screwed shut, lashes wet.

“He's gone, Dick,” Tiger said, as gently as he could manage when all he wanted to do was chase after Bannon and snap his neck. “We're alone. I'm sorry.”

Dick had lost track of everything as soon as the last shock had begun. He came back to himself much later, head pillowed on Tiger's chest as they lay on the bed in his cell. Dick was lying more on Tiger than the bed, which would be a problem if Bannon returned, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Dick's whole body was wrung out. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. A few spots on his torso burned, but dealing with them would require getting up. Evidently Tiger had been unable to do much about them while Dick had been out of it.

“Are you with me now?” Tiger asked softly.

Dick nodded, not even bothering to lift it.

“You should eat something. Have some water.” But neither of them moved. “Are you in pain?”

“A little.”

“Burns?”

Dick nodded.

Tiger sighed, his chest lifting and dropping Dick's head. “Helena will look for me soon. And scold me for wasting time down here, most likely.” Not that he was making an effort to do anything about that.

The door squeaked open. “I heard that, Tiger,” Helena said, jabbing at the communicator in her ear as she stepped inside.

“No one told you to listen in.” Tiger's response was a little snappier than usual.

Helena ignored it, resting against the bars. “Injuries?”

“Burns,” Tiger replied. “I was unable to examine them earlier.”

“You should do that now. You've already spent far too long down here.”

The look Tiger gave her could've stripped paint off the walls.

“Don't look at me like that. You're well aware it's a risk.” She was right, but Dick also didn't want Tiger going anywhere. Being alone right now was... not ideal. In his exhaustion, he had no control over his body language. His thoughts were damn well on display, which sucked because Tiger was having a hard enough time without Dick telegraphing his anxiety all over the place.

“This was a bad idea,” Tiger muttered into Dick's hair, holding him closer.

“We're committed.” Helena was doggedly sticking to being the voice of reason. Someone had to, and Dick and Tiger certainly weren't up for it. “I got into the director's office. It's as we expected. Alia is behind this.”

“Do we know when she will return here?”

“In five days.”

“It is possible she will simply order Bannon to kill Dick. We should arrange the attack to begin just before she arrives. Too soon for her to aid the defence too much, but too late to retreat.”

“I'll find the exact timing and make the arrangements. Tiger, when Dick is feeling better, help him memorise the building's layout.”

Dick had to endure this for five more days. How could a unit of time be so short and yet horribly long at the same time?

Helena rested her forehead against the bars. “Dick? Have you eaten?”

Dick shook his head.

“I'll bring you something. Tiger, check his injuries.”

Tiger pushed him into a seated position and helped him remove his shirt. Tiger had hidden a first-aid kit under the bed, since Bannon didn't seem to give a shit about the cell. All the more reason to get the attack underway before Alia arrived. She probably would care about such minute details.

Tiger cleaned the three burns from contact with the stun gun. Dick tried not to flinch, but he had little control over his body, which was aching all over as if he'd run a marathon without warming up first. Lactic acid was an asshole.

Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's bare shoulder and used stick-on bandages to cover the burns, just for a little while. Helena returned with a small amount of fruit and fresh water, plus a clean shirt. Dick didn't feel like doing much of anything, let alone eating, but he wasn't about to give either Tiger or Helena the opportunity to force it in his mouth if they had to. Which they totally would.

“Don't stay much longer,” Helena warned Tiger, taking the finished tray away with her.

Tiger helped Dick into the fresh shirt and they lay down again.

“You'll have to leave eventually,” Dick said.

“I'll leave when I'm ready,” Tiger muttered bitterly. “When you're ready.”

Dick was never going to be ready. He'd spent hours chained up, in pain and alone, and had just been tortured by the man he loved against both their wills. He wanted Tiger to stay, both for his own sake and for Tiger's.

Tiger made a slow circle on Dick's back with his palm. “Get some rest. I'll leave when you're asleep.”

Despite his exhaustion, sleep wasn't really on the cards. He was more in the mood to lie here and be miserable. Maybe it would've been kinder to make Tiger leave, knowing the man was paying very close attention to how Dick was feeling, but Dick couldn't bring himself to enact that kind of selflessness right now.

“We can do five more days,” Tiger promised.

Dick almost said he didn't want to, but that wasn't helpful, even if he'd rather have a complete nervous breakdown than spend another minute in this place. But he had to. He chose to do this.

But, fuck he hurt all over. If he never had to move his shoulders again, he would be a happy man. So far, he'd been able to lie his way out of providing accurate information that he didn't want Bannon knowing. But he couldn't rely on that. Sooner or later, his creativity would fail him. He certainly couldn't have come up with a lie if he'd been asked something sensitive at the end of today's interrogation.

Tiger cradled the back of Dick's head, resting his chin on top. “Dick. You need your rest. I will wake you in a few hours, I promise. You will need to eat small amounts at regular intervals anyway.”

Dick had managed to sleep while chained to the pole, but it seemed impossible now. He'd known this thing with Tiger was coming, but that hadn't helped. There was no way he could voice that without making Tiger feel worse than he already did.

“You're quiet,” Tiger said. Dick didn't have it in him to be a smartass, even with Tiger stating the obvious. He dislodged his head from beneath Tiger's to meet his eyes, which were full of concern. Dick managed the weakest of smiles and reached up with what little strength he had to kiss his cheek.

Bannon didn't always call on Tiger to assist in interrogations. Helena continued using Bannon's interrogation time to investigate restricted areas, passing the intel onto Batman.

Tiger, when he could afford to linger, set about helping Dick memorise the building's layout and the plan they were putting together. There weren't many points of entry available to outside forces, so the bulk of the family would be entering through the front door, with a few slipping in through other, smaller, entrances. They would wait to enter until Bannon was with Dick and Tiger would then help him take the man out.

“And what about those allies you and Helena were going on about?” Dick was propped up against the wall on the bed, nursing a nosebleed into a tissue. Nothing broken. It would pass soon enough.

“Most are not interested in fighting either side,” Tiger said, passing Dick a fresh tissue. “Those people have escape routes planned. A small group have agreed to assist. Gloria is one of them.”

“Huh. Been a while. Would've thought she'd want to escape so she could see her kids again.”

“She wishes to make sure we succeed. Desertion will put her family at risk if we do not.”

“Fair enough.” Dick pushed the map further down his legs, the better to see with his tissue-holding hand in the way.

“How's the bleeding?”

Dick dabbed at his nostrils. “Getting better.”

“Did you tell him anything?”

“He asked how much Batman knew about hypnos. He had to make this nosebleed happen before I answered, so I guess I convinced him Batman hasn't had a chance to study them properly.”

Tiger dampened a tissue in the sink and passed it to Dick, who cleaned the dried blood off his face. Tiger took the tissue from his hands after a few moments, taking over the task. That was fine by Dick. His shoulder had been killing him anyway.

“Will you be able to fight when the time comes?” Tiger asked, swiping the damp tissue across the corner of Dick's mouth.

“In this state? Probably. I don't know if my answer'll be the same if I have another round with that pole.”

“Just three more days, Dick. Are your shoulders still hurting?”

“When I use them too much, yeah. I probably won't notice it as much in the middle of a fight.”

Tiger threw the tissue into the toilet on the other side of the cell and hid the map underneath the mattress. “I'll try to get to you as soon as the fighting starts. You will not be left alone if I can help it.”

“I'm starting to suspect I'm more of a hindrance than a help.”

Tiger cupped Dick's cheeks between his palms. “No. You are providing a useful distraction for Helena's investigation and, to my shame, I prefer having you close, even under these circumstances.”

“You smooth talker, you.”

Tiger made a sound of disgust. “You must be feeling better.”

“For the moment.”

Tiger pressed his lips to Dick's forehead. “I love you. I'm sorry I put you in this situation.”

“Well, to be fair, you did try to stop me.” Dick could just feel Tiger wanting to argue, but he kept quiet. They were both doing a lot of that. Some things were better left unsaid, especially in a situation such as this.

They kissed instead of arguing. The door squeaked and they separated, which was just as well, because Bannon had returned.

“Well, isn't this cosy?” The man looked like he'd just won the lottery. Fuck.

“Someone had to clean up the mess you made of my face,” Dick shot back immediately. It wasn't technically a lie, so...

“Still mouthing off, Nightwing? Haven't you learned your lesson yet?”

“I'm a slow learner.”

Tiger shot him a look that clearly said shut up. It was probably in Dick's best interests, but he'd never been good at looking after himself.

“Who did you think was patching me up after you were done with me, Bannon?”

That just made Bannon smile even wider. “You seem awfully keen to defend your betrayer.”

“I don't see many people down here and you're a grade-A asshole, so I don't have an endless supply of people who'll patch me up and talk to me every so often.”

“Guilty conscience, Tiger?”

Tiger always seemed to struggle with answering back to Bannon, which was no surprise. “A healthy prisoner will last longer,” he finally came out with. “The longer he survives, the more information he will give us.” Dick made sure to school his expression into that of hurt, though he couldn't telegraph it too much or Bannon would realise he was bullshitting. This whole plan could fall apart if Bannon stopped believing Tiger's handing Dick over to Spyral was an act of betrayal.

Bannon's face was positively gleeful. “Oh, I'm sure. Perhaps you could convince me further. But don't bruise your knuckles too quickly. Or perhaps I'll let you borrow my brass ones.”

That was all the warning Dick got before Bannon had Tiger deliver him to the torture chamber once again.

Multiple sessions in one day wore Dick down, breaking him faster. Perhaps that was why Bannon always made sure he'd had his own session before he brought Tiger in to do the dirty work.

This time, however, Tiger was not permitted to stay and tend to Dick's medical needs. Dick's head throbbed as he lay in bed, lights out in a mimicry of night. No dinner had come, but Dick probably couldn't have eaten anyway. His ribs were definitely bruised and there had been a few gut punches that made him want to vomit.

But the door squeaked on its noisy hinges. Dick thought, for a second, maybe Tiger had managed to get away for a moment, but...

“Hello, dear.”

“Gloria?”

“Matron sent me.” A flashlight clicked on and she unlocked the cell door. “Your partner couldn't get away from Bannon. I only have a moment, so show me where you're hurt.”

“Not much you can do without ice,” Dick said, lifting his shirt to show her the bruises on his torso. Gloria produced a handful of washcloths.

“These won't work as well as ice, but better than nothing.” She dampened them in the sink, pushed Dick onto his back and laid them over the worst of the bruising. She put one over his eye, which had swollen slightly. “Whoever is bringing you breakfast will take them, but be sure to hide them just in case.”

“Do you think Bannon suspects Tiger now?”

“Bannon suspects everyone. If Tiger's position is too tenuous, I will take over his caretaking duties until the reckoning begins.” She patted his hand. “Matron tells me you're Nightwing. I take it that's your preferred name?”

“Around people who can't know my identity? Yes.”

Gloria's smile was barely visible in the thin beam from the flashlight, but it was refreshing all the same.

[iatethepomegranate]

Homecoming Chapter 16

@iontorch @prettybeefballs @darkmagicianknight

The whole fic is a sequel to Human Connection (can be read as a standalone, but character personalities make more sense if read together)

All chapters

Read on AO3

Pairing: DickTiger

Rating: Mature

Length: 4.3k (this chapter)

Summary: The interrogator interrogates.

Notes: There is a lot of torture here. Pain-based and deprivation-based.

Chapter 16

The first few hours of Dick’s captivity were incredibly boring. Not one visitor. Not even a spot of torture. Then again, he and Tiger had arrived in the dark hours of the morning. It was a miracle Bannon had even deigned to acknowledge their presence. Guess it wasn’t every day you got to manipulate a former victim of yours to give someone else up for the same treatment.

The mattress was thin, doing little to soften the metal frame digging into Dick’s back. He’d already counted all the cracks on the ceiling and had started on the little black specks of indeterminate origin. Mould? Spiders? A visual representation of humanity’s collective soul?

Well, at least it could be washed—or painted over—if that were the case. It was a nice thought. A few dark spots here and there didn’t have to ruin everything.

The door to the cell block creaked open and Tiger slipped inside. He looked even more worn than he had the last time Dick had seen him only a few hours ago.

“Bannon will be here soon,” Tiger said, sliding a key card into the lock on Dick’s cell door. “He has tasked me with moving you into the…” He trailed off, nudging the door open.

Dick rolled off the bed. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

Tiger didn’t bother cuffing him for the short trip to the door at the other end of the cell block, keeping a perfunctory grip on his arm instead.

The torture chamber was the same concrete as the previous room, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Dick had somehow expected something a little more… medieval. A flaming torch on the wall rather than fluorescent ceiling lights, perhaps?

Tiger sat him in the metal chair in the centre of the room, strapping his wrists in place. There was also a thin metal pole nearby with scrapes along its surface. Probably from cuffed victims writhing in agony. Happy thought.

“Bannon’s preferences vary,” Tiger muttered, strapping Dick’s ankles to the chair. “He does like to leave his victims chained to the pole for extended periods of time, but that is not his plan today, it would seem.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be best friends by the time I kick his head in at the end of all this.”

“Do not run your mouth in front of him.”

Dick tended to run his mouth whenever people tried to interrogate him. He wasn’t sure if it was a problem or not. Sometimes it got him in trouble, but other times it distracted the interrogator from whatever they’d been trying to get out of him. A Spyral interrogator probably wouldn’t be so easily led, however.

Tiger must’ve seen something in his face, because he gripped Dick’s shoulders. “Listen. You cannot afford to be seriously injured by angering him.”

“I’ll do my best, but if he’s asking for information I’m not willing to give, there’s gonna be hell to pay anyway.”

“Bannon does not always inflict pain for the sake of information.” Tiger’s grip on his shoulders was bordering on painful. “Sometimes he does it for fun.”

“Wonderful.” Dick had seen enough of that shit with people like the Joker back home. At least it was familiar. And maybe he could learn a thing or two while he suffered this man’s hospitality. No one ever said interrogations had to be one way. In fact, Batman had trained him from day one to turn them into sources of information. There had even been occasions when they had let themselves be captured on purpose just so they could gather intel.

“I’ll be careful,” Dick promised. He’d be no use to them if he aggravated his captor enough for receive an injury severe enough to render him unable to fight.

“You had better.” Tiger pressed his lips to Dick’s forehead, just for a moment. “I will do what I can to protect you.”

On any other day, Dick might’ve teased him for that protectiveness. But, in this situation, he’d need all the help he could get.

“I’ll try not to make your job any harder than it has to be.”

Tiger had to leave quickly after that, evidently not wanting to cross paths with Bannon when he didn’t have to. That gave Dick a few minutes to assess the situation.

The chair and the pole were the two forms of restraint available in the room. There were no windows and the door was the only way in or out. However, being so far removed from the security system and the rest of the building, it would take time for anyone to notice if someone went missing down here. That could both work for and against Dick, depending on whether he was the one missing or had caused someone to go missing.

The level of soundproofing was unclear and noises would likely echo off the rough concrete that comprised the walls, ceiling and floor, but the distance from the rest of the building also made that unnecessary anyway.

This place could either be his saviour or his undoing. Only time would tell.

Bannon’s arrival put an end to his wondering, at least for now. There was a little metal trolley in the corner, on which Bannon set a rolled up piece of leather that likely contained the tools of his trade.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Bannon said mildly, unrolling his toolkit. Dick wasn’t seated at a good enough angle to see its contents. “Had to catch up on my beauty sleep.”

“I was just thinking you looked oddly beautiful this fine morning.”

“I see captivity hasn’t curbed that tongue of yours yet,” Bannon said, running his fingers along the tools without picking any of them up. “Good.” He stepped away from the table, rolling up the sleeves on his cheap buttoned shirt. He probably had a thousand of them in the event any were ruined during torture. A little blood spray here or there, perhaps. A standard-issue Spyral t-shirt probably would’ve served him better, but clearly this guy thought he had an image to uphold.

And he probably liked walking around with the blood on him as if it made him look intimidating. Seemed like the type.

“Let’s start with something easy.”

Dick bit back a snarky comment about how he would never give away his mother’s recipes. It’d be a shame to waste that one on this asshole. At least the Joker would find it funny. Then again, he found everything funny.

“Who helped you gain access to Spyral?”

“It wasn’t hard,” Dick replied. “For a big, sneaky spy organisation, you’ll let anyone join.”

That earned him a backhand across the cheek. Subtle.

Dick rolled his eyes. “The Matron needed a new partner. I needed to disappear for a while. It worked out for both of us.” He wasn’t exactly sure how much information this guy had about his identity, aside from knowing he was Nightwing. Helena had tried to wipe all traces of identifying information about him from Spyral’s files. Best to keep the details under wraps, just in case.

“And why would someone like you be interested in such a position?”

That was a piece of information Dick was not interested in sharing. “You mean, aside from the fact I needed to disappear? Because that’d be a great motivator for most people.”

Another backhand. It stung, but wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him. Bannon didn’t bother asking the question again. He could always be saving it for later. He had no reason to believe anyone would be coming to help Dick given that Tiger had made such a show of betraying him, so they had time to draw things out.

“I suppose I should be nice today,” Bannon said. “After all that heartbreak.”

Dick glared up at him. It wasn’t difficult, considering all the shit he had done to Tiger, even if he was angry for a different reason than Bannon believed.

“Oh, I don’t doubt your original plan was to seduce him for your own ends,” Bannon continued. “But, clearly, that didn’t work out too well for you, falling for your own game. That’s the problem with you heroic types. You can never keep your heads on straight. Spies don’t make good lovers, sweetheart.”

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Did Batman put you up to that?”

Dick snorted. “Please. You think I’d be his first choice for that kind of mission?”

“With Tiger’s preferences, yes.”

“You seem to think we had access to more information than we actually did, buddy.” Dick leaned back in the seat best he could; not quite the lounging smugness he was going for, but it would have to do. “I hate to break it to you, but we don’t actually know all that much about Spyral.”

“You’re a better liar than I expected, Nightwing.”

Dick smiled. “It’s a gift.”

“We have plenty of time to change that.” Bannon left him there, still strapped to the chair.

Time passed in fits and starts, flowing in and out with Dick’s concentration. He hadn’t been hit all that hard yet. He was just bored as hell. Just as the thoughts of forced starvation and dehydration flitted into his mind, the door opened to deliver Tiger into the room.

He rushed forward to undo the restraints. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Not sure. A while.” At least an hour, probably. Time was funny in this room.

“I only saw him in the hall a few minutes ago.” Tiger helped him up, gripping Dick’s arms when his legs weren’t quite ready to wake up after sitting for so long. Dick’s head ended up on his shoulder somehow. Tiger held him, just for a moment, before he led Dick back to his cell.

Dick sat on the bed, shaking out his legs, while Tiger crouched on the floor beside him. “I’m okay,” he promised. “He smacked me around a little but I’ve done worse to myself in training. He definitely thinks I’m heartbroken over your shocking betrayal.”

Tiger nodded sharply, just once. “He will attempt to use that. I may still be forced to torture you.”

“Whatever happens, I trust you.”

Tiger lowered his gaze, hand reaching up to squeeze Dick’s. “Helena and I will continue to gather what intel we can. We may still have an ally or two left in the building.”

“Be careful. They could’ve been turned.”

“I know.” Tiger kissed his knuckles. “I should leave. The longer I am absent, the greater the suspicion upon our ruse. I have been assigned caretaking duties, so I will be along soon enough with a meal.”

“Assuming Bannon doesn’t decide to try the good old food and water deprivation trick.”

“He better not,” Tiger said darkly. He left shortly thereafter. Dick lay down, feeling his cheek throb from the blows Bannon had inflicted. Annoying, unpleasant, but could’ve been worse. Would most certainly get worse before this was all over. Of that, Dick had no doubt.

However, he would continue to hope. Positive thinking could do wonders.

Tiger couldn’t linger when he came to provide… well, it was probably breakfast. Or lunch. Dick still couldn’t get a handle on the time. He’d figure it out come dinner time, probably.

Bannon left him alone for the rest of that day. Dick’s internal clock reoriented itself at dinner as expected. Tiger turned out the lights for sleep, which meant it had to be night. Surely. Unless they were trying to confuse him on purpose. Nah. It was night.

Tiger was quiet when he brought Dick back to the torture chamber shortly after an unsatisfying breakfast of soggy cornflakes. Dick was almost more offended by that than the whole being a prisoner thing.

He’d more or less forgotten about it by the time Bannon showed up in a fresh white shirt. “I take it your accommodations are comfortable?”

“Oh, absolutely. The bars are a nice touch.”

“You’re far more interesting to talk to than your former partner,” Bannon said lightly, back slightly turned as he sorted through his toolkit of terror.

“A sense of humour goes a long way.”

Bannon picked up a hammer and Dick was suddenly all-too-aware that his hands were strapped in place. A smash to the fingers would be unavoidable. Dick took a deep breath and didn’t let that spike of fear show on his face. He’d faced worse than this. He’d had a bomb strapped to him and had to be killed just to stop it from blowing. This was nothing.

Bannon bounced the hammer in his hand. “I think you know what this is capable of. Shall we talk?”

“You’re a lot more polite than you were to Tiger.”

“I was pressed for time. Here? I have all the time in the world. You will talk, one way or another, even if I have to wear you down little-by-little.” He rested the hammer against the fingers of Dick’s left hand. Nice of him. “Now. How exactly did a vigilante get access to Spyral?”

“Quite easily, really. I already told you Helena was looking for a new partner and that I needed to disappear. I had a number of useful skills already, so it wasn’t the same as training a newbie from scratch. Hell of a culture shock, though.”

“Did Batman send you here?”

That was pretty obvious, so Dick let that piece of information go. “Who else would?”

“How did you communicate with him?”

That information, however, was not negotiable. Helena had access to similar technology to keep Batman informed, so he couldn’t afford to say anything. Dick smiled at Bannon instead of answering, which, predictably, resulted in a thick burst of pain in his fingers. Dick grunted, but managed to curtail the rest of his reaction.

“I’ll ask again. How did you communicate with Batman?”

Dick wasn’t sure how far Bannon would go to secure this information. He needed a believeable lie. And he also needed to hold out against the torture long enough that Bannon would swallow it.

His fingers were throbbing, and the next blow was stronger. His fingers weren’t quite broken yet, but it wouldn’t take long if Bannon kept upping the force each time. He couldn’t afford to break his fingers. He needed that lie, but the pain slowed his thoughts.

Bannon asked the question again. Then, an idea. Would it be unrealistic that he possibly could get off St Hadrian’s grounds to speak to Batman personally at a nearby location? That could work. But how would they—OUCH—arrange a meeting?

“Your fingers cannot take much more,” Bannon said. “How did you communicate with Batman?”

Dick had the answer. “I snuck off the grounds every so often to brief him in person. We would arrange the next meeting then.”

“And if circumstances changed?” The hammer hovered, threatening.

Dick swallowed against pain-nausea, the throbbing in his fingers somehow igniting a sympathetic throb in his temples. “I’d pay a local to send a letter to a mailbox Batman rented under an alias in Gotham. Don’t bother asking for the location, or the alias. He stopped using them after I got out.”

“Convenient.”

“But true.” Dick wasn’t looking forward to his fingers breaking if Bannon didn’t accept that.

But Bannon stepped back and set the hammer down on the table. “It appears the Matron didn’t keep as tight a leash on her charges as she should have.”

“Minos was in charge when I got there, and we all know he was shit at his job. Matron’s takeover had a rather messy transitional period. Unavoidable, really, considering it was all quite sudden.” At least talking kept his mind off the painful throbbing in his fingers.

“You had issues with Minos?”

“Who didn’t?” He made a killer robot and tried to murder both Dick and Tiger with it. Of course he held a grudge. Dick definitely wasn’t going to volunteer any information about that, however, much less that Minos’s construction of the robot in question was the original reason Dick was assigned to infiltrate Spyral in the first place.

Mercifully, Bannon left him. Of course, his absence meant there was nothing left to distract Dick from his hand. Strapped in as he was, there was no way to relieve the pain. There was a whole heart, throbbing just in his hand, pushing burning blood through his fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to look. One of his fingernails hurt more than the others. He didn’t want to know why that was. Ignorance, in this case, was surely bliss.

Time was slow this time. Dick counted his breaths. He had to focus on something other than his hand before he lost it. It was just a hand. Nothing was broken as far as he could tell. He would be fine. Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Dick lost count three times, at which point Tiger finally came to put him out of his misery. His face was thunderous as he unstrapped Dick from the chair, not even giving him a chance to try and stand before he lifted him and carried him to the bed in his cell.

Dick sat on the edge, leaning sideways against the wall. Tiger reached for his hand, but Dick recoiled, unable to stop himself.

“I need to examine your hand,” Tiger said slowly.

Dick had to hold his breath before he could let Tiger touch it. Tiger bent each finger and Dick swore loudly in response.

“They’re not broken,” Tiger said. “This nail is severely damaged. Rinse it in the sink and then keep your hand elevated. I’ll get you some ice.”

Holding it under the water provided some relief. Tiger was back quickly, breathless, with a tied cloth full of ice cubes. Less suspicious than raiding the medical supplies, perhaps.

“Lie down.” Tiger moved Dick’s hand onto his own chest once he had, setting the ice on top. “You’ll be okay. Nothing’s broken.”

“I’m fine,” Dick said, a little croaky. Tiger helped him drink from a cold bottle of water. “Any luck finding the boss?”

“Not yet.”

“But you suspect Alia.”

“I do.” Tiger sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand on Dick’s knee. “What did you tell Bannon?”

“Nothing dangerous. Some truths and a lie. Batman assigned me, everyone hated Minos, I made up some lies about how I communicated with Bats. Face-to-face meetings, anonymous mailboxes in Gotham.”

“Are you still in pain?”

“Not as much.” The ice had dulled it somewhat, even if he’d still prefer his fingers didn’t exist. “Will he come back today? It’s still early.” Dick couldn’t keep the trepidation out of his voice, which was the last thing Tiger needed to hear.

“Possibly. He did little to you yesterday. He may need to compensate.”

“Great.”

“You can survive this, jaanaana.” Tiger had used that word on a few occasions before. Dick had been tempted to look it up, but felt that wouldn’t be in the spirit of things.

“Are you ever going to tell me what that means?

“When we get out of here, perhaps.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Dick really needed to learn Pashto.

Tiger definitely lingered longer than he should have, until someone else entered. Fortunately, it was only Helena.

“You’ve been down here too long,” she warned. “I could’ve been someone else.”

A muscle jumped in Tiger’s jaw, but he nodded all the same.

“Any news?” Dick asked.

“Communication with your backup has been established. Now we need to minimise it to necessary information only. I got them a schematic of the building and will pass additional information as I find it. Tiger, we need to get out of here. You can come back here at lunch.”

Tiger squeezed Dick’s knee and followed Helena out, leaving the ice behind. Dick supposed he could either hide it, or possibly not even bother, if Bannon showed up. Would he even care? Hard to say. But he’d probably figure out Dick had been icing it even if he did try to hide it. So maybe it wasn’t even worth trying. Maybe it would appear that Tiger was fucking with his emotions. That could work.

Bannon did come back sometime after lunch, only to chain Dick to the pole—hell, he even did his own dirty work this time—and leave him there with his arms twisted uncomfortably as they remained in a raised position behind him. Lovely.

Dick couldn’t be certain, but he was sure hours passed with no one looking in on him. His shoulders were prickling with pain and his back ached from trying to contort himself into a position that would relieve them. Standing didn’t work. He had to bend himself backwards in a way the pole wouldn’t quite allow, because his hands were chained too low for that. He had to keep shifting between sitting, crouching and half-standing in an attempt to find relief for short spaces of time before a different part of his body would start complaining.

It had to be past dinner time by now. Surely. Was Bannon really going the deprivation route? Could Tiger or Helena possibly help him out before it got too dire? Food and water aside, he’d have to pee sometime and he’d really rather not wet himself if at all possible. He wasn’t sure he would be given a change of clothes.

He already kinda had to pee. Not urgent yet, but that did not bode well for the hours to come. His stomach was already grumbling, throat already dry. This was going to suck.

Time passed slower when you were hungry. Or thirsty. Or needed to pee. There was a dripping sound echoing through the room, from a leak in some hidden corner somewhere. That did not help.

Dick couldn’t decide what was the best thing to focus on. If he could just pick something out of the postural discomfort, hand pain, full bladder, hunger or thirst then this all would be so much easier.

The bladder thing was definitely what he had to focus on least. And, of course, knowing that made it that much harder to think of anything else. God damn it.

Was having a penis more or less convenient in times when you had to hold your urine? There should be a study on that, if there wasn’t already. It was an important question. And one that was not helping Dick right now.

His shoulders were really starting to hurt. His hand still throbbed. And his tongue felt like sandpaper. Or like he’d eaten the entire Sahara Desert.

This was not going well. If he could just find a comfortable enough position to sleep, maybe he could get away from this for a few hours. He certainly was tired enough.

He’d have to sit for that. If his shoulders could take it. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, it’d happen eventually.

Or he could try to knock himself out on the pole. Probably ill-advised.

He couldn’t rest his head against the pole comfortably in this seated position, so he let his head droop forward instead.

It worked, at least for a time. There was something to be said for Batman’s training. Sleep where and when you can. Even when your shoulders are at risk of being removed from their sockets.

But the whole situation had only become more dire in however long he’d managed to drift off. Probably not long. But now his mouth was drier, stomach emptier, shoulders almost numb except for stabbing pains, and his bladder needed to empty yesterday.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He was going to bust a kidney or something at this rate.

And then, finally, salvation. Tiger.

“We don’t have long,” Tiger hissed, unlocking the cuffs. Dick’s arms were stiff and he needed Tiger’s help to bring them down against his sides.

“I am going to piss myself if I sit here much longer.”

Tiger hauled him to his feet and back to the cell. He leaned against the outside of the bars, watching the door while Dick relieved himself. It was painful after holding it that long. Once the urgency had died down a bit, he was able to take in his surroundings a little better. There was a tray of food and drink on his bed.

“Only have a little,” Tiger advised once Dick had finished, washed his hands and sat on the bed. “I may not be able to get you out again for a while. He’s wearing you down for something. I do not know what, but he has been very interested in my whereabouts.”

This could be the time, then. Dick took a few sips of water, ate enough food that his stomach wasn’t digesting itself. Any more could create problems if he was stuck on the pole for too long. His kidneys probably couldn’t take much more of those bladder emergencies. Whatever happened, he knew he’d have to have his wits about him. Tiger would need that from him.

“I do not know how I will fare,” Tiger said, still watching the door rather than Dick.

“Me neither. I’ll try not to traumatise you too much.”

“I share the sentiment.”

All too soon, it seemed, Tiger had to chain him back up, but he’d swapped the cuffs, apparently, because Dick was damn sure his hands hadn’t had quite that much freedom to move along the pole previously. Tiger put a finger to his lips. Message received.

The door shut behind him with echoing finality. Soon, they would both be tested. Pain was one thing, but coming from Tiger, and knowing how much it would affect the both of them, was something else.

[iatethepomegranate]

alt title: HOMOcoming

:’)

(Because this is showing up in the search and my actual fic chapters aren’t, I’m just gonna link to my fic tag)

[iatethepomegranate]

I’m rereading my dicktiger “homecoming” fic and it’s making me crave noodles