#this is worse than when nightwing moved to bludhaven

[dc-sideblog]

Tim: so when I became Robin you were so opposed to teenage vigilantism you almost killed me over it, but when Scarlet does teenage vigilantism you make her #2 in your criminal empire???

Jason: exactly. Now you're getting it, Timbo

[space-dreams-world]

DPXDC AU: Bludhaven's Hero/ Sugar baby Dick!

For whatever reason, Danny flees to Bludhaven instead of Gotham after something in Amity Park gone wrong, and since Gotham is the next ecto-rich area, Danny avoids that. (And since Bludhaven is supposed to be worse than Gotham,well...)

Danny coincidentally arrives to Blud around the same time that Dick does. Danny does visit Gotham to see his sister as she is registered as Fenton in University.

As Danny is legally registered as a Nightengale, taken under Clockwork's wing, he needs to be surrounded by new people. (Sort of like accidental crime lord Au Danny, but for Bludhaven, but with the violence of threats.)

Most cannon shit happens to Dick, but at some point, Dick starts getting to know Danny. They live nearby to where Dick lives and is an all-around helper to the community.

Danny sort of vigilantes as a cryptid as a back-up for Dick sometimes as good cop, worse cop situation. Danny works as Dick's gear maker, patch up buddy, and informant for Dick's nightly activities.

Danny helps out when Slade threatens to bomb Blud with Chemo, when Blockbuster starts hunting out Dick with Tarantula, when the Court of owls attacks, when *Ric* happens,etc...

In fact, when Tarantula attempts to SA Nightwing, she gets shot through her shoulders so that she can't do this shit again and can't be a vigilante or makes it difficult for her to continue it.

When Dick starts dating Danny, they decide to move in together in Danny's space and use Dick place as a safehouse. Danny also convinces Dick to be a private detective instead of a cop, as he could see it wear him down. Or at least he sees that Dick in Law enforcement is unhappy.

In fact, Dick and Danny only come out to Dick's family after they have been together for a few years, and Dick has Haley and Danny has Ellie after a de-aging and DNA melting mishap.(But, before Bruce kicks it in the time stream)

[curryalley]

I need Clint Barton to meet Dick Grayson.

I need Clint to roll into a SHIELD ops assignment meeting having absolutely not read the briefing materials before the meeting. I need Phil Coulson to explain that there has been a serious threat against the life of Dick Grayson. Wayne Corp is about to announce some new initiatives. Intelligence confirms a criminal syndicate plans to kidnap Dick Grayson to force Bruce Wayne to call off the plans. SHIELD needs Wayne Corp to go through with it (and kidnapped sons of billionaires are always a headache) so Clint, we've created an identity for you as a Wayne Corp employee to keep an on things.

And Clint has to be like, "Yeah that won't work."

The analysts immediately take offense. "It's an airtight identity, you've done worse undercover work than babysitting a billionaire's kid."

Clint interrupts. "I can't pretend to be someone else around Dick Grayson. I know him. Me. Clint Barton. We were friends when we were kids."

Everyone at the meeting is losing it and Clint stares at them all. "How many circus kids do you think there are? Haley's and Carson's didn't tour together but our paths crossed in the offseason."

That explains why during his afternoon walk home, Dick Grayson comes across his childhood friend, Clint Barton, wearing jeans and a purple tank top, juggling and doing tricks for cash on the street. SHIELD has adjusted Clint Barton's identity so he's down on his luck, busking for spare change because it's hard to get a job when you're a deaf former circus performer with barely a GED.

Of course Dick wants to help and they reconnect. Dick asks Clint to perform at a Wayne gala. The same gala where the goons attempt to grab Dick Grayson. Dick keeps trying to slip out and change into Nightwing but? Somehow? Clint is always behind him? They're both trying to fight off the goons, still in their civvies, each trying to rescue each other while also not giving away their secret idecities,

"Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"I used to be a cop. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

"Would you believe me if I said bar fights?"

When it's all over, there's some disagreement about who is walking who home but Clint insists since Dick was almost kidnapped. Clint gets into his Hawkeye gear and plans to spend the night watching Dick's building for trouble when he sees Nightwing go swinging away from it.

Naturally he follows. Nightwing is meeting with the bats to report on the kidnapping attempt when there's a wild bit of confusion and mistaken identity as one of the bats slams Hawkeye to the ground and demands to know why he's following Nightwing.

Clint's lying there partially stunned at being nearly splattered by one of the robins or something when Nightwing leans over him.

"Clint?"

"Hey, Dick."

Clint and Dick were already friends but that's the story of how Hawkeye meets Nightwing.

(In the sequel, Clint turns up outside Dick's apartment months later. He's wearing multiple bandages, drinking a coffee with the name on the cup horribly misspelled with a K and holding Lucky's leash. He looks at Dick and says, "The Tracksuit Mafia has moved to Bludhaven, you got any plans tonight?")

[too-much-tma-stuff]

I Never Blamed You (Part 6)

So, where has Dick been?

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Dick was not going to reach out to Bruce first, he absolutely was not. He wasn’t wrong, and Bruce was never going to change anyway! Their fighting was the reason he had gone to Bludhaven in the first place, and their relationship had only gotten worse when Bruce had taken in Jason, and worse again when he died. Dick had blamed Bruce, but he had blamed himself more, for not being a better brother to the kid. Ya sure he hadn’t wanted a brother, but that was how siblings usually worked! He should have been there! And now here he was, not being here for Tim either, and feeling like complete shit about it.

He apartment was a fucking pigsty and he didn’t clean it. He hadn’t been taking care of himself, he’d been eating junk, he was barely sleeping. He was not doing well and he didn’t care. He didn’t care about much other than his patrols and being Nightwing, he didn’t care about much besides saving people. Like maybe if he saved enough strangers he could make up for not saving his brother.

He couldn't. 

He still checked in on the rest of the family sometimes, and he never blocked Batman on official channels so if they really needed help they could call him. Bruce had never blocked Dick either, or locked him out of their servers, if he did Dick would probably cry.

It had been a few months so it was time to check in again. He still wasn’t locked out thankfully, so he had a look around at the most recently updated files. What were Bruce and Tim having issues with in Gotham?

The most accessed file in the last few weeks was the one on Red Hood and his partner Hyena. Dick really didn’t know that much about them besides they were Gotham’s new crime lords, and he had heard on the news Hyena had killed the Joker. Dick felt like he owed Hyena for that. He had succeeded where Dick had failed after all. He still held a small grudge against the people who had resuscitated the bastard, Nightwing had killed him on purpose after all.

Dick opened the file on Hood, propped his chin on one fist and leaning against the desk, bored and tired, ready to skim the file before moving on. He froze, his body going completely rigid as any trace of his previous fatigue fled his body.

Alias: Red Hood

Civilian name: Jason Todd

It couldn’t be the same Jason Todd, he was dead, it had to be an awful coincidence surely! But he read on with rebid hope anyway. It wasn’t a coincidence. It was Jason, the Baby bird. He’d grown so much, he’d changed so much! 

Dick barely remembered to turn off his computer before he grabbed his suit and headed straight for Gotham, and Crime Alley. 

It was half a miracle that Dick didn’t crash on his way to Gotham with how fast he was going, and how little attention he was paying. He wound in and out of traffic to get to his little brother as quickly as possible, ignoring everything else till he reached Crime Alley. He abandoned his bike more than parked it, and went looking for Red Hood.

They must have access to the cameras in the Alley, or maybe just a network of informants, because they came to meet him long before he would have found them. Both Hyena and Hood were there, but as soon as Dick saw Red Hood he zeroed in and barely noticed Hyena, didn’t even hear the way he snarled when Dick rushed towards Jason.

Jason made a ‘down’ gesture to Hyena who subsided and stopped growling, fading partially into the shadows, though he was still watching them intently. 

“Is that really you Little Wing?” Dick breathed, he felt like the hope was choking him and he didn’t even know if it was real. He’d had delusions and hallucinations before, and Jason featured in them regularly. Hood looked tense, his arms were crossed and his posture closed off, he didn’t seem exactly happy to see Dick.

“What do you want, Big Bird?” He asked. The nickname, even through the modulator Dick recognized the way Jason said it.

Dick was shaking he realized, and he could feel the burning of tears behind his eyes as he crumpled in on himself. Hardly a warm reception, but of course it wasn’t. Why would Jason want to see him? He had been a terrible brother, he hadn’t been there when Jason needed him, he hadn’t been there for Tim. He shouldn’t have come, shouldn’t have intruded on Jason’s new life. He was probably better off without Dick anyway.

“I’m so sorry,” He managed to choke out. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, that I wasn’t here. B didn’t tell me, you- No, you didn’t have to tell me, you don’t have to accept my apology. But I wish-” He was interrupted by a little hiccupping sob. He shook his head and brushed away his tears with the back of his hand, furious at himself for his useless self pity. “I wish I’d been a better brother to you. I should have been there, I should have saved you.”

A pair of strong arms wrapped around Dick and he surrendered to them immediately, if Jason hurt him he probably deserved it. But no, Jason just… held him. “I don’t blame you Dicky,” Jason said softly and the floodgates just broke. Dick wrapped his arms back around Jason and sobbed into his broad chest, clinging like a child and barely processing it as he was picked up. Hyena leading the way and Jason brought him to their nearest safehouse.

Dick passed out before they got there. 

----------

Danny opened the door for Jason and quickly disabled all the traps so Jason could carry Dick in and lay him down on the couch. He covered Dick with a throw blanket and slumped down into a chair, taking his helmet off and took a deep breath, letting his head fall back against the chair with a soft thunk. 

Danny trotted to the kitchen and put a pot of coffee on to brew. Once it was done and Jason had a moment to collect himself Danny poured Jason a cup. He pressed it into Jason’s hand and curled up on Jason’s lap purring softly, Jason was sure he wasn’t actually happy right now, but knew Jason found the sound soothing and was doing it for his benefit. He appreciated it.

He absently rubbed Danny’s back while he processed his feelings. Danny didn’t say anything, they never really demanded answers of each other, Jason appreciated that too.

“I didn’t know he cared this much, or that he was doing this badly,” Jason told Danny softly. “I should have reached out to him. I thought he already knew and just didn’t care.”

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t have a great relationship with him before did you? You didn’t think those things for no reason,” Danny told him. 

“Ya, he’d left by the time Bruce took me in and he was barely around. And when he was Bruce and he would fight and he’d storm off,” Jason said with a sigh. “But he’s thinner now, and so tired. I didn’t realize-” He cut himself off, hiding his face in Danny’s shoulder.

“He’s here now, we’ll work it out,” Danny promised, and his confidence did soothe Jason, at least enough to come out of hiding and sip his coffee.

---------

Dick woke up to the smell of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. For a moment he thought that he must be at the manor, and it felt like it had when he was a kid, but when he stretched he realized he was sleeping on a couch. He paused for a moment, and all the memories from before came back. He sat up abruptly and looked around wildly. 

“Well welcome back Sleeping Beauty. Seriously, how long has it been since you slept?!” Jason asked, and the other man sitting at the kitchen island cackled. He recognized the laugh, even if Hyena was out of his suit. “You’ve been asleep all night, I made cinnamon rolls.” 

As if to prove it Hyena held up his half eaten cinnamon roll, and then took another big bite. “There’s coffee too,” Hyena said with his mouth full, Jason whacked him with a spatula for it and Hyena dramatically pretended to be hurt. Jason rolled his eyes. 

Dick blinked and got up, warily approaching the counter as if he expected them to reject or attack him. Jason just got him a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll as he sat down. Dick picked it up and nibbled it, it was delicious enough that he kept picking at it, even though he didn’t have much of an appetite. 

“How long have you been back?” Dick asked Jason softly. He should introduce himself to Hyena properly, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Jason right now. He’d grown so much, he looked older than he was. Where had that little boy gone?

“I came back about six months after my death but I wasn’t all there,” Jason said, turning away to pour his own cup of coffee. “The League of Shadows found me and dumped me in the Pit. I had the worst case of Pit Madness afterwards. It took me a year of training with them, and another year with the All-Cast before I really knew who I was enough to come back to Gotham, and I’m still not the same as I was before. I never will be,” Jason said like a warning as he pulled up a stool and sat down across from Dick and Hyena. 

“They’re pretty common ongoing side effects of resurrection like that,” Hyena added, finally drawing Dick’s attention to him. “Increased violence and obsessive tendencies are pretty normal. So are the grudges and the need for closure, I mean, it makes perfect sense doesn’t it?”

He stretched across the table towards Jason, and Dick finally noticed the white in his hair. It matched Jason’s now, though the placement was different. Jason absently brushed his fingers over Hyena’s open palm in a brief but practiced caress. Hyena grinned up at him fondly. It made Dick feel out of place.

“How would you know?” Dick bristled, he didn’t mean to, and he shouldn’t have. He just hated how well Hyena obviously knew Jason when Dick didn’t know him at all. He had always been a bit of a jealous person.

“Because I died too and I was the same! And I wasn’t even exposed to this Pit stuff,” Hyena explained with a little shrug before straightening up again.

“Oh,” Dick sounded, deflating again, he really shouldn’t be picking fights. He'd rather focus on Jason anyway. “Why didn’t you tell me you were back,” He said looking at Jason and trying not to cry again. “You’ve been back for, what, 8 months? You could have reached out.”

“I didn’t think you'd care, we weren’t exactly close,” Jason said with a  shrug. Dick felt like he had been punched in the gut. “When I revealed myself to Bruce and asked why he hadn’t avenged me he threw a batarang at me to stop me from killing the joker and slit my throat,” He said, tilting his head to show the scar. Dick felt like he might throw up at the sight. “I guess I didn’t want to risk reaching out again.

“I figured I was pretty well disowned and didn’t have a family anymore-”

“Besides me!” Hyena chirped, smiling at Jason who gave his partner a look of fond exasperation. 

“Yes, besides you. So I just kept going with what I was doing, making Crime Alley a safer place and stuff. I did reach out to Tim and we’ve had dinner a few times, but I guess I figured… I heard through the grapevine you didn’t come to my funeral. I didn’t think there was any reason to reach out.”

“I was just in denial,” Dick admitted in a near whisper. “I didn’t want to believe you were gone. I never got a chance to be a better brother, I thought that I’d have more time I guess. Bruce and I, we both fell apart after your death. He got violent to the point Tim felt like he needed to step in,” Jason was nodding, Tim must have told him about that. “But I did too, I had nightmares, and didn’t sleep to the point I started hallucinating you. I beat the Joker to death and never forgave the fucking EMTs who resuscitated him, even though I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I missed you.”

“Damn… I’m sorry Dick, if I'd known it fucked you up that bad I would have reached out. I just assumed since Bruce and Tim knew, you must know too. I wasn’t that surprised you didn’t come, but I didn’t blame you.

"Not this time, and not when I died either. I was mad at Bruce, not you, you didn’t ask for a brother and I understood that. I wasn't your responsibility.

"But, I guess, you’re here now, and I am too. We can try and start over. It’ll have to be slow though,” he glanced at Hyena, who nodded encouragingly. “This is going to be… a lot. For both of us I’m sure.” 

“Right,” Dick agreed sheepishly. “Whatever you need Little Wing, I’m sorry I just showed up without warning last night. I just needed to see you.”

“It’s okay, I’m… glad to know you care. No one told me that you tried to kill the Joker.” Jason paused and shoved the plate of cinnamon rolls towards Hyena. Huh, Dick hadn’t noticed him trying to sneak another one. Hyena looked sheepish as he took another, Jason shook his head at his boyfriend before continuing. “Just take better care of yourself okay? Next time I see you I don't want you passing out in my arms again,” Jason chided him.

“Ya, ya I will,” Dick agreed with an embarrassed little blush. “I’ll reach out to Tim too.” It was way past time to do that.

“Good, he’s a good kid but his self worth is in the fucking gutter. He’s going to work himself to death before he’s 30 if someone doesn’t give him a healthy role model, and some support, and we all know Bruce won’t do it,” Jason huffed, rolling his eyes. 

“I’ll do my best to help,” Dick vowed. This was a second chance he never expected, he was not going to waste it. 

[frogaroundandfindout]

Random highly specific dick grayson fanfics I’ve been craving

An exhausted 18/19 yr old Dick finding Jason trying to steal the wheels off of Nightbird (his car) and instead of reprimanding him he just launches into a really proud rant about his car and how much work he put into her and god kid you got a good eye for parts. I just replaced the tires with ones where the rubber self heals. And none of that commercial crap either, actual self healing rubber that could get a bullet shot through it and still close up a second later. Oh and did you notice the seats? Just polished the leather on em! Go on sit, sit! Comfy, huh? You wanna get a bite to eat? Cool. I think bat burger’s hero-meal comes with a bat-mobile toy. Not as cool as my lovely lady of course, but close enough. Jason is absolutely baffled. This is Nightwing? The one all those new gangs that moved from bludhaven decided facing was worse than fighting for territory in the narrows? Fleeing unsuccessfully might be add considering Nightwing’s presence in gotham. He was so…nice? In that weird slightly off putting way that most of the real good people he knows have.

Dick and Damian both longing for the days where it was just them: Batman and Robin. The best. Dick having a whole moment where he curls around nearly completed adoption papers and sobs because Damian was his. For a year Damian was his to protect, his to guide, his to love. But now they aren’t even in the same city and barely go on patrols together let alone have movie nights cuddled up on the couch (it’s only reasonable Richard. Penguins huddle to conserve body heat). And Damian in the manor staring blankly at his drawing of gotham that Bruce hung up in his office. He didn’t make it for him. He made it for Richard. But what was he supposed to do when Father saw a piece dedicated to “dad” while Damian was flipping through his sketchbook? Tell him it was actually for his oldest son instead of him? Tell him that sometimes Damian wishes bruce never came back so that Richard didn’t have step back from them?

Dick who cooks tons of different cultural dishes within the same meal (like rice and curry served at the same time as sushi and fried plantains) and when questioned about it he’s just like ???? That’s what my mom used to do??? We lived in so many different places it felt weird limiting our food to one culture per meal.

Dick being like Garfield Logan’s big brother long before Jason comes into the mix. Gar frequently turning into a baby elephant just because it makes dick coo over him more than any form. Even a kitten!

[gatorbites-imagines]

Dick grayson x male powered reader who's the son of Oliver queen

Powers can be whatever like vibration control, vocal manipulation etc

Dick Grayson x male reader

Headcanons

You would most likely have met Dick when he was still robin and joining up with the titans alongside Roy as you both were working under Oliver. You would both be able to use a bow and arrow, but you focused more on your other powers where Roy focused on the bow.

You have the ability of sound manipulation, echo location and mimicry, meaning you can mimic any other voice or sound. Meaning human voices, animal noises or anything really, even computer sounds or stuff like that.

I feel you and Roy would be closest in the beginning since you’ve known each other for way longer than you’ve known the team. Then over time you both get closer to the team, and you get along the most with Dick.

During missions you’ve always kept track of everyone using your echolocation, meaning your always clicking your tongue softly during the day, as its just become a habit and second nature at this point.

It becomes a sound that your team all come to expect and which ends up comforting them to some extent as they know your always keeping an eye out for them. So if you were to go silent over comms they’d know something was wrong.

As you grow older your relationship with Oliver suffers the same way his relationship suffers with Roy. You and Roy have different issues with your dad, but its enough to go low contact or cut contact completely outside of hero work.

You spend a lot of time trying to take care of Roy who’s spiraling even worse, and you end up leaning on Dick a lot during this time, making you two grow even closer as he’s the only person you can be vulnerable around.

During this time your feelings for each other really develop, but he knows you aren’t doing well mentally, and you know he’s in a similar situation to yourself with Bruce, so you both suppress your feelings.

At some point you both end up moving in together in Bludhaven, and you become a hero of that city alongside your dear friend and crush. When you upgrade your suit you end up making it a little more similar to nightwings, and less like Green arrows, which everyone notices but no one really mentions.

Dick immediately falls even more in love with you when he sees you wearing his colors or with a suit similar to his own. Which the team always uses to tease him and make him flustered.

As roommates you two live like you’ve done before, though you get even closer. Now that you live together you two end up cuddling a lot without really realizing. You hug each other, cook for one another, or just care for the other.

You sass him using your mimicry, meaning if he says something you’ll say it back in his own voice, or even copy your friends and teammates voices if you have too.

You’ve used your mimicry multiple times during patrols to catch criminals as you can copy their allies voices to make them put their guards down.

Working side by side only solidifies your feelings for each other, and you would confess your feelings during patrol one day, after you’ve just had to scream down some bigtime villain and you two were standing on a rooftop overseeing the police taking the villain away.

Dick would just be looking at you, watching you be so serious about what you do, and hed just confess right then and there without really meaning too.

Youd stop your clicking out of shock, turning to look at him with wide eyes as you quietly ask him what he just said. Dick would go red and start apologizing, saying he must have said something wrong, or you didn’t hear anything.

Then you take his hand and tell him you feel the same way, leading to you both standing there blushing. It ends up with you clearing your throat and saying you should get back to this conversation after the villain is put away, to which Dick agrees.

After you two get home from patrol that night you talk through your feelings and end up dating after making sure you’re both on the same page.

No one is surprised when you two start dating, your friends and family just casually tell you two they’ve been waiting for you both to come out with your feelings.

After all this time your relationship with Oliver has gotten better, and Dicks relationship with Bruce has gotten better too, so you both spend time with the others family. Though, you spend more time with Dicks family just because they’re a lot closer than your own.

The way you and Dick live doesn’t really change, as your both overly affectionate, just now you can kiss. Which you do, a lot. Dick loves to kiss you, so much. He’s waited all this time to be able to do it, so he can’t get enough.

Listening to you click your tongue for your echolocation is one of his favorite sounds, as he likes laying on your chest with his ear pressed against you so he can hear it even better. It comforts him and helps put him to sleep.

You both wear each other’s hero merch, there’s no question about that. Of course, nightwing is your favorite hero and you’re his favorite hero if anybody asks during the day.

Your friends and family are probably sick of how lovey dovey you two are even after months of being together, though Alfred would find it endearing since he’s just happy to see Dick so happy with someone.

[sparkypantaloons]

Safe, Sound

Bruce checks in on each of his kids before he goes to bed. Even if most of them are adults who live in their own homes...

~~

Most nights, Bruce does his best not to give into temptation. Well... paranoia, to be more accurate.

Contrary to the many admonitions from his children, he has actually had therapy. And whilst he's not always been the best at employing the coping tools he learned in his sessions, it didn't take $300 an hour to know that indulging in unhealthy behaviours was... well, unhealthy.

Some nights though, he can't help himself, and rationalises that indulging a little every now and then is by far the least destructive of all the available options.

Better a light rain, than all out storm.

Still, he does his best to 'reign it in', as Jason would say, as much as possible.

Tonight, as much as possible is zero.

It could be the weather, he considers, racing towards Bludhaven, through hail that is falling in sheets. All the bad things that have happened in his life have happened in bad weather. Pathetic fallacy at its worse. Dark clouds have always made him worry.

Or, perhaps, it might be the fact that he's exhausted, he thinks, scaling the fire-escape to the sixth floor apartment. Perpetually so, but particularly this week. Back to back nights facing nothing but the infantry of Gotham's worst. No detective work involved, just a battle of attrition, against thugs and goons and scum. The fatigue of it settling in his bones. Slowing him down, when he needs to be fast.

Then again, there's every chance it's Jason. He mulls it over as he disables the security measures on the apartment window, squeezing his sizable frame through the much smaller opening. Last he spoke to his second son, the twenty-four year old had told Bruce to go fuck himself, before promptly jumping off the nearest roof. Jason had always been one for melodramatics, but the first time his boy had stormed off in such a huff he had literally died, so Bruce isn't too hard on himself that a repeat performance makes him anxious.

Maybe though, he decides, stepping lightly across the wooden floor, careful to avoid the warped beams that would sing under his weight, maybe, this is just being a father. And whether your children are adults or not, whether they fight crime in disguises or not, some nights, for no reason at all, you just... worry.

When Bruce had been a boy, a little boy, no more than six or seven, his parents had bought him a rabbit. Flopsy, she'd been called And he'd been obsessed. Such a soft, fluffy little thing. He'd watched her fall asleep in the evenings, all snug in her hutch. Only to wake in the middle of the night, suddenly convinced she wasn't breathing. Having to rush over and check, carefully watching for the rise and full of her tiny body.

It's the same example he had given his therapist, when explaining why some nights he just needs to check, needs to see with his own eyes that his children are okay. That they're safe. Alive. If only to stop the runaway train of terrible thoughts that loops his mind.

He looks down on Dick's sleeping form, the younger man's cheeks flushed with warm. His hair is sticking out all over the place, his arms flung above his head. Blissfully unaware that the Batman stands over him.

Dick has always slept like the dead. Had spent his early years in the circus afterall, a perpetual hive of activity and movement and noise. Dick impervious to it all, falling asleep on whatever comfortable surface was available. Totally oblivious to the world around him.

Bruce watches the gentle rise and fall of his boy's chest. Slows his breathing to be in time with Dick's. Lets the calm of it wash over him. Then he turns to leave the way he came. Resetting the security measures as he goes.

These days he has a tried and tested routine for checking on his family. With Dick in Bludhaven more often than not, he usually has to start there, (depending on Nightwing's evening activities). Then he loops back to Gotham, and moves on to the next.

Stephanie is easy to check. Easier than he'd like, in fact. Most of his kids, and kid-adjacents, have inherited his own paranoia around security. Have layers and layers of protection around their homes. But Steph still lives with her mother. A mother who hasn't even the remotest suspicion that her daughter is Gotham vigilante Spoiler, by the way. So the former Robin can't exactly booby trap their apartment windows.

She does have a couple of cameras set up outside of them though. So Bruce's first step is always to hack their system. Set them to loop the last three seconds, so she doesn't know he's been there. Then he'll slide open the window. Sit in the frame and watch until his heart calms that fraction more.

Except tonight, there's no way to open the window without waking her. Weather as awful as it is. Hail plinking against the pane. The best he can do is press his forehead to the glass. Watch her through the heat vision lenses of the cowl, and try to untwist the worry in his heart.

Steph sleeps like Dick does, arms splayed above her head. As though she was too tired to do anything but fall into bed. The sheets are a tangle, strewn across her sleeping form. Arms and feet and leg left uncovered, diagonal across the bed.

Bruce slips quietly away. Unloops the camera traps as he goes.

Jason is next. And couldn't be more opposite to Steph when it comes to security. Maybe most like Bruce in some respects.

He never sleeps in the same place two nights in a row; uses a complicated pattern for choosing which safehouse to stay in next. The security on each is as complex as anything Bruce has ever seen. And if it wouldn't immediately trigger a flurry of furious epithets from the younger man, Bruce would tell him how impressed he is. How proud he is.

However impressed he might be, Bruce is still Jason's Dad. Is still the one that taught him, gave him the solid foundation that his skills and training are built on. It takes him a while, but Bruce still manages to disable the security measures on the living room window of safe house 13. Makes his way carefully to the bedroom.

Jason has never been an easy sleeper. More like a cat than anything else. Ready to wake and bolt at the slightest of disturbances. He curls up like one too. Duvet and pillow hugged tight to his chest. Face set in perpetual frown, knees drawn close to his body.

He grinds his teeth too, and Bruce briefly wonders if his boy has been wearing his mouth guard, like he's supposed to.

He resists the temptation to check. Resists too, the urge to gently rub away the worry lines from Jason's forehead. Instead just listens in wonder, at the gentle snores that provide the incontrovertible proof that his darling boy is alive.

He always lingers a little longer with Jason, always so grateful that Jason's there to check at all. Instead of the cold, empty room that had been left in his place for so long.

Then he leaves the way he came. Takes his time ensuring the security measures are restored just right. Before slipping back into the wind and the hail and the night.

Tim is next. And Bruce isn't sure which is worse, that Tim now lives on a boat or that he's got a boyfriend.

Bruce hates boats. No real reason, just never been a fan. And... well, no, okay, he doesn't hate that Tim has a boyfriend. But he does hate that Tim having a boyfriend means checking in on him is now a little... weird.

Consider: doting father checking in on his much loved son? Acceptable. Understandable. Endearing even.

But: much loved son in bed with his new boyfriend, when doting father arrives? No longer endearing. No longer endearing at all. Now weird and uncomfortable and a little bit creepy.

Small mercies mean that, tonight at least, Bruce knows Bernard isn't around. And for that he is thankful. Whatever is driving this particular bout of paranoia won't be satiated by a vitals check. Even if Tim is the only one of his children willing to let Bruce monitor them 24/7. The silver lining of a missing spleen, Bruce thinks.

The real problem with Tim though, is the sleep talking. More than once Bruce has been sure the younger man has seen him, when he starts angrily garbling out sleep-tinged words. Only for Tim to then end the sentence with something utterly bizarre, like "put the gravy in the toilet", or "remember to pay the elephants".

It's adorable, and dangerous. Because Bruce is then left trying desperately not to laugh and blow his cover. It wouldn't do for the Batman to fail at his most basic stealth training because he got caught giggling, after all.

Tim is already mumbling to himself by the time Bruce reaches him. The younger man's face smushed into the pillow, one arm flung over the edge of the bed.

"I need the teapots to unsubscribe." He says angrily, words slurring together with sleep. "Why did you promise me parachutes?"

Bruce tries not to grin too wide as he makes his way from the boat.

The hail has turned to snow now, and it's nearing half four in the morning. The Batmobile cuts through the flurry, heading West across the river and out of the city. Bruce puts a call through to Cass.

"What's wrong?" She says as she answers, face appearing in the Batmobile HUD. She knows how early it is in Gotham.

"Nothing," Bruce says with a tired smile. "Missed you."

Cass rolls her eyes affectionately. "Home next week."

"How's Hong Kong?" Bruce asks, as the car pulls off the bridge.

Cass frowns, tilts her head side to side. "Unhappy." She says.

"Hn." Bruce replies. He's been following news of the unrest relentlessly since Cass has been gone. It's not even a week, but he'll be happier once she's home. Always worried she'll make the trip permanent, like she had once before.

"Bad night?" Cass asks.

Bruce shakes his head. "No." He lies.

Cass sees through it. "More sleep." She admonishes gently, and taps her watch on the screen. "Nearly home?"

Bruce chuffs a small laugh, he's meant to be the parent here. "Nearly home." He reassures her.

Cass nods, blows a small kiss to the screen then clicks off the call. Bruce pulls into the Cave.

Alfred is stood waiting by the car bay. He looks unipressed. "What time do you call this?" He asks, eyebrow raised as Bruce climbs out of the car.

Bruce looks sheepish. Shucks off the cowl. "Sorry," he says "I—" He cuts himself off. Chest tight again as he thinks back to the start of the night. The all-consuming worry for his family. The inescapable need to check, to know that they were okay.

Alfred gives him a sad smile, holds a hand to Bruce's face. "You need more sleep, lad." He says gently. "Let's get you to bed."

Bruce nods. "That's what Cass said." He leans into the touch ever so slightly.

"Smart girl, that one." Alfred says with a grin, gently helping Bruce remove the cape and gauntlets.

"Let me check the boys first." Bruce says, once his uniform is off. Alfred leading him out of the Cave.

Alfred heaves a sigh. "Safe and sound asleep for at least four hours, Bruce."

"I know, I just..."

Alfred nods knowingly. Squeezes Bruce's shoulder. "Sunday brunch is at 11am. I expect you to be on time." He says.

Bruce gives him a small smile. "G'night Alfred."

"Goodnight, son."

Bruce heads to Duke's room first. The teenager isn't often at the Manor. Stays with his cousin Jay in The Narrows most nights. But the commute to Gotham Academy is shorter from the Wayne Estate and he has exams this week.

The teenager's lights are still on, school work strewn across his desk. He's half sitting in bed, a physics text book open against his chest, glasses still on. Bruce crosses the room quietly, easier now he's in slippers and pyjamas, and gently pulls the book from Duke. Carefully slips his glasses off his face. Duke stirs ever so slightly, sliding further down the bed to be more horizontal. Bruce tugs the covers up. Switches off the light.

Damian's room is next to Bruce's and as he pushes the door, Bruce is ready for the night to be over. For the tightness in his chest to finally ease, and the unbidden thoughts that taunt him with unfulfilled horror to cease. But Damian isn't there, his bed empty, sheets kicked to the floor.

For a moment Bruce's vision whites out in panic, his lungs paralysed as he tries to make his brain work again. Kick-start his mind's hard drive and scan all the contingencies it stores, because his boy's, his darling littlest boy is—

"Father?" Says a small voice, thick with sleep. A warm little hand, slips into Bruce's own. Damian looks up at him. He's wearing dinosaur pyjamas. Rubs at his eyes with a small fist.

Bruce picks him up without thinking. Sits the nine year old on his hip and hugs him close.

Damian settles his head against Bruce's shoulder. Pushes his palm to Bruce's chest, frowns at the rapid beating of his father's heart.

"Wosswrong?" He mumbles, eyes already slipping closed.

Bruce squeezes him tight. "Nothing son, nothing at all."

He considers for a moment putting Damian back down in his bed, but the nine year old's fingers cling to his shirt.

Instead Bruce takes them both to his own room, settles the pair of them under his own covers.

Damian falls asleep almost immediately. He's curled into Bruce's side, clinging to his arm like a baby koala. Bruce runs a hand through his boy's hair, let's out a long, slow breath.

Sleep is calling him now, the world outside muted by the snow that steadily falls from above.

He has one more check to make. Reaches for his phone and thumbs in the passcode for the interface that will show him the status of his team, his family. A text comes through the encrypted comms chat before the information loads.

Oracle > Batman: About time you got home. Safe & sound here. See you for brunch x

Bruce smiles, finally gives into the temptation to sleep as relief washes over him at last. He fires off a single character response before he slips away to dreams.

Batman > Oracle: 🦇

[somereaderinblue]

Walker Siblings Rewrite

I totally did not write this bcz I have a soft spot for siblings. Also, Melanie is frickin gorgeous, she deserved better. DC hire me.

ANYWAYS! Upon reentering the BB fandom, I’ve decided to try my hand at writing for it, which brings me to this. Ft. my Bludhaven Beyond AU! Enjoy!

Melanie Walker/Spoiler

Loved her the moment I saw her, hated how the show treated her. Especially the comics, god don’t get me started on it. Why why why did they reduce her to a Faux Action Girl & Stalker who literally went into action just to impress Terry? Hell no, we ain’t doing my girl dirty like that so here’s how it’s gonna go.

Melanie’s primary goal doesn’t just revolve around Terry; it’s about breaking away from her parent’s emotional abuse/manipulation. It’s about breaking away from a self-destructive lifestyle of crime she’s stuck in out of misguided loyalty to them.

Thus, she and her brother move to Bludhaven for a fresh start. It’s a lot easier since no one would rlly gives a damn there. Plus, it ensures their parents will never find them.

She’s content to continue as a restaurant helper & even teaches kids basic coding part-time. Her brother had a harder time adjusting which caused some tension, especially after he got fired. Fortunately, he soon found employment at Dick’s gymnastics studio, easing her worries.

Unfortunately, the peace wasn’t gonna last for long.

At first, she thought her brother was desperate for adventure when he came to her with his crazy theory about Mr. Grayson being an ex-assassin. She decided to humor him like siblings wont to do (she’s the sane sibling to Jack’s irresponsible, you can’t change my mind).

They discovered he was half-right.

Redemption time baby! Time to stick it to the asshole parents by becoming what they hated most!

Her brother blackmails convinces Dick to teach him so he could take on the Nightwing mantle. Dick didn’t think it was a healthier alternative to dealing with whatever parental issues the siblings had but between vigilantism and crime, the former was the lesser of two evils.

Melanie wasn’t interested and for a while, she was Jack’s ‘guy in the chair’. However, as her brother got into worse scuffles due to rising gang activity, she realized she had to step in. Not just to protect what family she had left but to prove that she’s better than her parents.

Thus, she modifies her old Ace costume and debuts as Spoiler. Lame moniker compared to Nightwing but hey, she’ll take it over Ten any day.

Jacqueline ‘Jack’ Walker/Nightwing

(The fandom page literally just calls him Jack so I made up his civilian name, don’t judge.) 

I surprisingly came to like Jack despite what little screentime he had. Which is why I’m disgruntled with how the tie-in comics treated him. Him going back to being a criminal & getting beaten up by Batman just felt like the writers were pointlessly kicking the dog (Melanie) more. After all the crap she’s been through, she could’ve at least gotten one decent family member. So, let’s give this guy more depth.

I hc that Jack found it harder to straighten out bcz he’s an adrenaline junkie & kleptomaniac; something his family’s criminal lifestyle unhealthily enabled.

He tried to accept his restaurant job but his urges made him pilfer silverware/ small valuables from his coworkers. That combined with his haughty attitude got him into trouble until his boss finally fired him.

Pissed, he went for a walk to clear his head until he stumbled upon a gymnastics studio. He had some gymnastic/acrobatic skill thanks to his time as a criminal. So, he walked in and after chatting with Mr. Grayson, landed himself a job there.

Surprisingly, he enjoyed it. The physicality gave him the adrenaline rush, Dick (having caught on to his kleptomania) helped keep his urges in check & the kids loved his knife tricks (he has a heart, okay?).

One day, a local gang tried to rough them up for ‘protection money’. He helped Dick scare them away but after seeing his mentor kick ass, Jack began to suspect he had a secret. An ex-criminal would naturally recognize another ex-criminal! Or assassin, either one was cool, really.

He managed to needle his sister into snooping around until they finally found the old Nightwing costume. Jack’s heard of Nightwing from online forums and he’s a closeted fan.

Seizing this golden opportunity, he begged Dick to teach him more. He won’t admit it but he’s not just interested in vigilantism for the thrill but bcz he’s realized he can care for others and that he does care.

Also, this would be the ultimate middle finger to dear old daddy.

Thus, Bludhaven had a Nightwing once more. And after one too many close calls, he had his sister joining his side, this time as Spoiler.

So maybe he can’t have riches. But hey, the wellbeing of his sister, mentor and the kids were good enough compensation for him.

Oh, and Dick totally doesn’t adopt these ex-criminal siblings with parental issues. He totally doesn’t become a cool supportive healthy father figure to Melanie & Jack who no longer have to be accomplices in crime to earn affection. Look at him, Bruce, he doesn’t enable your chronic adopting.

(A/N: note my sarcasm.)

[redjaybathood]

(am I writing jaytim (?) dick killed joker au after yesterday? yeah and what about it)

Jason never liked the "come back wrong" trope. He feels vindicated, now, walking the streets of his hometown and not recognizing anything at all.

He didn't come back wrong. It was everything else that turned topsy-turvy.

Even this one thing he wanted more than anything else - Joker being six feet under - was messed up. Nightwing was the one who did it. And while he didn't turn himself in, he didn't stick around either. Dick Grayson turned his badge in, leaving Bludhaven PD the same nightmare of corruption and institutional racism, and was globe-hopping with Arsenal (who lost his daughter, and even a chance of getting revenge, seeing as Oliver Queen shot the bastard and was awaiting trial, currently) and Starfire (Jason wasn't sure what that was about). 

And Bruce, he got himself a new Robin. But it alone wasn't what made him feel sick.

With Joker being long gone before Jason finished his training with All-Caste, with Gotham being raised to the ground and rebuilt again, now with cheap materials in even poorer neighborhoods, boondocks; while fancier districts like Fashion, or West End, had historical landmarks erased, and the stupid ceiling-to-floor windows of business centers and shopping malls came into being instead. Come on, this is just a trauma due to a shockwave from an explosion nearby, waiting to happen! And these monuments to corporate greed served the community none, taking up valuable public space.

But most importantly, people.

Yeah, Joker was gone. But, as he traced the information by reports, official and not so much, of what happened during No Man's Land (how did it happen? How did it happen?)... Gangs got much more power than before. That time when the only way you could survive was being in a gang, with a top honcho telling you what to do, or you would literally starve... It changed Gothamites for the worse. It didn't help that companies like Luthorcorp were "helping" with rebuilding efforts, pocketing much of the city relief fund and taking contracts from local enterprises. Didn't help that freaks like Two-Face, Penguin, and Scarface, who stayed in Gotham, got more power after they stuck it out. Mafias were weaker, sure. Street-level gangs wised up.

It all made Jason want to go mad. Except that wasn't a luxury he could afford now.

See, along with the intel gathering, one of the first things Jason had done after getting into Gotham was check on his old connections. Not Batman - he knew about Robin, and he was yet to decide what he wanted to do about it. He was putting off any confrontation before that.

But his friends - people he mostly left behind after Bruce picked him up.

And, see, here's the thing. While he was still alive, he kept tabs on them. He knew when Harlowes moved to a new house. He was able to sneak Max some money - he didn't even ask Bruce for it. Won in a poker game with Two-Face, at some point before he found out he killed Willis. He was worried about Numbers' decision to apply to military school, so asked Bruce to find a good one, if there was such a thing. He ran a background check on Gabbie's fiance and warned her anonymously about him scamming his past girlfriends. After Chris, Jason asked Bruce about setting up a fund to help with legal representation for youthful offenders.

It wasn't much. They, Max said once, would rather have him there, with them. Not with them, with them, living in the slums. They knew he was better off living conditions-wise being off the streets than on them. But just like, hanging out. Talking to them for more than 5 minutes when he dropped something off - it felt like charity, like he was buying off his guilty conscience that he didn’t want to be seen with them anymore.

Yeah, but Jason could not be in three places at once. And if Robin was his job, and Jason Wayne was his cover for said job, Jason Todd had to give way. Every time.

Until there was nothing more to give.

But even after his death, Gotham still took from him.

The worst thing, the thing he didn't think he would ever be able to forgive himself, was Max Dawkins. Dead at seventeen. Few weeks before Jason came back home. At the time Jason probably was still doing katas, or kissing Essence under a three-thousands years old tree that was vaguely related to sycamores, now. Or was training his vision to focus on the future with his right eye and the past with his left. 

Point is, Jason doesn't even know and will never know, and it doesn't even matter, because Max won't be any less dead.

Overdose, can you believe that? Max didn't even sniff glue when they were both young and stupid. They want to believe he would go hard on speed after receiving acceptance letter with full ride scholarship for GCU? He wanted to drag the cops who closed the file on Max as soon as the medical examiner sewed him back, onto the street, behind the dumpster his body was left behind, and...

He stopped that trail of thought. Fumbled for the phone. Opened BetterMe Mental Health app. Grief, his plan for today said.

He put the headphones in.

Three minutes later, he stood up straight and cracked his neck this side and that. What he loved about this app was, unlike with Ducra, it was a really low-commitment, no risk of being thrown out of his own body on astral plane, meditation. It wasn't a panacea, but it helped. He wasn't throwing things around, he wasn't screaming at no one, he wasn't crying. He was breathing evenly. He was thinking straight.

The report he stole said the body was in the morgue, still. Unclaimed. The autopsy was obviously a hack job, with inconsistencies showing how little the ME cared about a dead guy nobody will come to claim. It's not like he will get an opportunity to recommend a respectable funeral home to make sure your loved ones were comfortable on their last journey - and that the ME gets his kickback. Now, though, this guy will find out what a real kick in the back feels like.

No. He can't make noise.

He got Talia to agree to reinstate him among the living, legally-speaking (done thanks to her contacts in Qurac councilship), and then take her last name.

It was the most 'fuck you, Bruce' way for Jason to return to the States. He was alive again, and Bruce had no idea, and he wouldn't, because Jason Head nee Todd wasn't his in any way. Anymore. But if he wanted to keep it from Bruce without going fake identity for the rest of his life, he needed to be low-key.

So. Jason Head went to the city morgue as himself - but also a third cousin twice removed of Maximillian Dawkins' maternal aunt. Which, actually, was the truth. There was a reason Max was tasked by his grandma to hang out with him from time to time when things went rough at home. That, and Catherine never liked Chris.

Good judgment, if only she could apply it to Willis as well.

He waved a couple of hundred dollars bills around. Said he wanted to take Max to bury him - but he also wanted to find out what actually happened. And couldn't they redo the autopsy? 

They could, agreed the guy. He even allowed Jason to be present.

Downstairs, they almost ran into a girl. Despite the poor lighting, Jason didn't plan to take off his sunglasses, hat, or a jacket that added bulk to his shoulders, not until he needed to put on a white suit and protective mask, glasses and gloves. He still managed to see the way her makeup was a touch overdone, didn't mash with the brand clothes she was wearing, and the hair, he was pretty sure, was a wig.

He noted the name and the bullshit excuse the girl gave, and stopped trying to supress his irritation and impatience.

The girl gave him a once-over too. Asked why he was there. Jason told the truth: he was here for his nephew, preparing for the burial.

"Why not during working hours?"

"Because I work during working hours," Jason explained to her. "Nobody is going to give me a day off, doesn't matter if I'm his only family."

"Capitalism," the girl sighed.

Jason huffed a laugh.

"Yeah, I don't think I would have paid leave for this somewhere like China or North Korea. It's funny but the exploitation of the working class doesn't stop regardless of what fancy words they use to keep the sheep complacent."

"Are you an anarchist?" The girl eyed him warily and even moved a bit back, almost dropping into a defensive stance.

"What I am is tired and have a long to-do list, ma'am." He stepped closer to the opposite wall and motioned for her to go on.

She caught herself not quite finished mouthing off "ma'am" and finally, thankfully, left. Jason looked at her gait, slightly swaying on way too high heels (in Jason's estimate, anyway; he would never be able to walk a step in them).

"Are all of your doctors so..." He said when he caught the ME looking at her as well.

He didn't like that gaze.

"Fine?"

"Rude."

[thevindicativevordan]

Comics this week ?

Batman #137 - Jimenez art is carrying this hard. If he wasn't drawing this I would skip it. Bruce's actions make sense given what Zdarsky has been doing with him, but the rest of the Batfamily are morons.

Steelworks #4 - Superbooks don't get enough credit for how well they're handling interconnectivity right now. Genesis pops back up here and is relevant to the plot, but it's handled in a way that is surprisingly organic. Dorn has shown improvement with each issue, DC should give him another book after this if he's interested.

Superboy: Man of Tomorrow #5 - Trav is my favorite new villain for Conner in ages. Such a delightful little sociopath, and this issue was extremely 90s in an entertaining way when it comes to the fight scenes. Conner using his TTK to deflect Trav's blasts, ripping off Trav's arm (it's not something Clark would ever do but that's why I liked it!), Trav rigging his own arm to blow, then transferring his consciousness into the Kryptonian clone body was great. One more issue to go!

The Riddler: Year One #6 - Great ending to a great mini. Makes me want to rewatch The Batman.

Birds of Prey #1 - Solid first issue, but it didn't wow me. Normally I'd keep reading through the first arc, but I have to cut back so this gets dropped.

Fire & Ice #1 - Beautiful art, decent comedy book. But again, I gotta cut back so I'll drop this.

Blue Beetle #1 - Mandatory to read Graduation Day if you want to read this, but the quality is at the same level as the mini so that’s not a problem for me! Bummer that the movie wasn’t a bigger success so we could hopefully get a longer run. I liked seeing old Ted foes show up, I’m curious if they’ll be bringing in Jenny Kord from the movie here too since they already moved Jaime and his cast to Palmera City.

City Boy #4 - Pak played up Cameron's moral grayness, and this is the issue that focuses on that. He's practically a supervillain in how he enslaves Bludhaven to attack Nightwing, with the only saving grace being that he was trying to do right by someone else. That, and I couldn't help feeling bad for him when he saw that his mom ditched him because she didn't want him. Heavy stuff, hope the Swamp Thing showing up is Levi. He had family issues too, I bet he and City Boy could have a good back and forth about dealing with your parents.

Immortal X-Men #15 - Even Gillen is starting to decline in enjoyment for me at this point. Still I think end is in sight for this book, and I want to see what the plan is for Xavier since he’s going to get off his ass at some point.

Fantastic Four #11 - Everlovin’ Thing indeed. Nice to see Ben be the one using his brains to get the F4 out of a trap.

Dr. Strange #7 - Strange has always been his own worse enemy, making that literally true has been quite exciting. Kind of funny how much Marvel touts that they’ve never rebooted and everything is canon when they still pick and choose what to acknowledge. Feels odd to not bring up the OTHER time Strange destroyed himself out of desperation to achieve his goal, during Hickman’s New Avengers run.

Scarlet Witch #8 - Winning a duel of words with Loki? Hopefully the Wanda fans will take that feat as much cooler than a magic contest. Oh and Joseph is being used as a pawn again, since they beta you over the head with that this issue I’m sure no one is surprised. I am looking forward to how the fight with Hexfinder goes. Wanda could use a good rival and she shows potential.

[enigmatic-robin]

Brainteaser

Continuation of Happy Accidents

Summary: Stephanie wants to be just like her fathers, Edward Nygma and Jonathan Crane. Including the villainy. Edward isn’t so sure how he feels about his child having a criminal record.

Words: 1263

Edward knew, of course, that teenagers were supposed to be so much worse than children. Edward himself had stopped submitting to his fathers punishments at twelve and began fighting back. It was the time when children started gaining their will, becoming more and more the person they were meant to be.

Of course no parenting book prepared him for this.

“Daddy, come on! Robin has to be like ten!”

“Well do I look like The Batman? He can parent his way, I personally don’t want to involve my child in the fight” he argued, running a hand through his hair tiredly.

“Red Robin and Black Bat too, they have to be around my age.” Stephanie pouted, still pushing. “I learned everything Aunt Diedre and Aunt Nina know, and I won’t even fight Batman, I’ll just distract Robin while you fight him”

“I said no, I’m not getting my sixteen year old a criminal record”

“Then I’ll do it myself” she hissed, running up to her room. Edward groaned, heading outside into the aviary, joining Jon on the bench.

“She is exactly like you” Jonathan chuckled softly.

“You heard?”

“Windows open. You know your answers ain’t gonna satisfy her, they wouldn’t satisfy you”

“So what do I do, just… let her put herself in danger? I can’t do that”

“Now when in the hell did I say ‘let our daughter get punched by a neurotic in a fetish suit? I’m saying to act like you’re talking to a younger version of you, what would you respond to?”

Edward groaned, running a hand over his face.

“I wouldn’t. I’d go get punched by the neurotic in the fetish suit, Jon. That’s the problem” Edward lamented, leaning all his wait on Jonathan, who almost fell off.

“Oh lord. My husband, ever the dramatic” Jon pushed him, trying unsuccessfully to move him.

“When I let Tim work with me in the lab he seemed to settle.”

“I already let her write riddles, but it’s not enough, she needs to watch the bats struggle with it”

“Look, why don’t you…just once maybe let her go; Diedre and Nina will protect her, she’ll see just how much of it is just waiting around, and she’ll drop it. You could even dress her like one of the girls and have that one stay home, he’d never know. Either way, she ain’t giving in”

“Fine! Fine, I’ll figure something out”

—-

Nightwing wasn’t in Bludhaven, which meant the Batman patrolling wasn’t actually Batman; perfect time for Steph to come out. She had insisted on dressing similarly to him, though the purple and green had been inverted.

The riddles had been spread out, leading to the Gotham museum, or more specifically a large emerald on display. It was almost laughably easy to get in, especially for a Gotham museum exhibit. Stephanie held the large stone, needing both hands. She looked over thoughtfully before passing it to Edward.

“Matches you real well. It looks like your eyes a bit”

“Won't match his Arkham uniform, though” a voice said from the shadows. Stephanie and Edward looked up, finding Red Robin and Black Bat on top of a large exhibit case.

“Oh, look. It’s the former Boy Blunder and his silent knight.” Edward huffed, turning to Query and Echo. “I trust you can take Bird Brain?”

“Yessir” Echo confirmed, Edward taking several steps back. Red Robin turned to Black Bat, muttering quietly to her. She nodded sharply and leaped towards Edward as her companion entered the fray with Query and Echo.

“Shitshitshitshit-“ Ed muttered, motioning for Stephanie to follow him as he started in the opposite direction. She kept pace, keeping an eye on their pursuer, who was gaining on them steadily despite their head start.

“Daddy, keep going, I got this, take it back to base, I’ll meet ya!”

“What-“ Edward was cut off as he ran through the doorway to the next exhibit, only to hear it shut and lock behind him. “Oh for fucks sake-“

—-

Steph locked the door, turning around in time to swing around and hit Black Bat with her cane, standing her skidding back slightly.

“Alright, time to fly back to your little cave” she huffed, kicking out, only for her leg to be grabbed. Black bat pulled, wiping her remaining foot from under her. Steph caught her cape on the way down, sending the vigilante down with her. “Now now, it’s not nice to pull someone’s leg”

The girls grappled to get the upper hand on each other, both keeping each other on the ground with clumsy kicks and pushes like school children.

Stephanie was caught off guard by a hit, yelping as she was pinned to the ground.

“Never seen you before” Black bat said in an almost accusatory tone, one hand on Stephanie’s shoulder and the other twisted into her waistcoat.

“Call me Brainteaser, or Teaser for short if you’d like.” Stephanie leaned up, biting the loose section of the mask between the tip of the nose and the chin. She tugged hard, straining the stitches on the lower half of the face. Black Bat pulled at it, but Stephanie kept her teeth locked warningly. She wasn’t even pulling, the vigilante was pulling on her own enough for the stitches to loosen. She shook her head, loosening them more before pulling hard, stretching out the stitches on the left. Where the cowl hung, Stephanie could see a bottom half of a light tan face and a panting pink mouth, leaving her stunned long enough for Black Bat to throw her to the side, running to most likely regroup with Red Robin. Steph scrambled to her feet, face pink. Daddy didn’t have to know about that.

___

As soon as Stephanie opened the door to the Riddlair, Edward was wrapping his arms around her.

“Stephie, honey, you have a red mark on your jaw, that’s probably going to bruise. Are you alright? You came back fast but it feels like times been moving so slow, don’t you ever pull a stunt on me like that again” he rambled, mother henning as he helped her with the catches on the suit

“I’m fine, daddy. Let’s just go home. Dad and Timmy are going to want to know everything” she insisted, throwing her soft purple dress over her tank top and shorts, giddy with adrenaline still.

—

“And so I was pinned, yeah? And I realized her whole face is covered, so there’s gotta be a loose spot ‘tween her nose and mouth, and the bats are very particular about their masks, so I bit down on it and pulled and it ripped a little and- uh, she was able to get me off, but she ran, and I made it back to the rendezvous so Aunt Nina and Diedre could bring be back” she recounted, rocking on her heels. Tim beamed, hugging her tightly before picking her up and spinning her.

“You did so good! Look at my big sister, you did amazing!” He enthused, putting her down after she started laughing.

“I’m still gonna do better my first run, right, dad?”

Stephanie and Edward turned to Jonathan, who froze. Confused.

“Yeah, course you will. You’ll be with me after all, not an overzealous theater kid” he motioned toward Edward before pressing a kiss to Stephanie’s head.

“Brainteaser, I’m proud of you. You’re gonna give those bats a run for their money”

She grinned, thinking about the black clad vigilante. She couldn’t wait to go back out there.

And hey, getting caught didn’t seem like the worst thing either, anymore.

[bearly-writing]

Hello! I absolutely loved "Bite the Bullet!" If you are still taking requests for Hurt/Comfort Bingo, could you possibly fill CPR with Dick Grayson/Nightwing receiving CPR from someone in the Bat family - preferably Bruce/Batman or Jason/Red Hood? Keep up the great work :D

Thank you so much for the lovely request! I’m really glad you enjoyed Bite the Bullet! I can only apologise for how long this fill has taken 😅

All of my prompts have been requested! I know it’s been a very long time since I last filled one of these, and I’m not sure if any of the prompters are still interested in these (or even remember that I was supposed to fill one for them 😂) but I am definitely going to finish these, including the Voltron ones!

Pale Reflections

Fandom: Batman

Prompt: CPR

Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Warnings: Near death experiences, Drowning, Past character death, blood and injury

Summary: Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick.

And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.

Read it on AO3 here!

Bruce doesn’t actually see Dick go into the water. There’s a shout - Jason, Bruce thinks - the confused sounds of a struggle, the splash of something heavy disappearing into the river. Bruce doesn’t have time to worry about it, not with the horde of Joker’s goons he’s trying to keep from overwhelming him.

So he doesn’t see his son hit the murky water. Doesn’t see his muscles seize at the shock of icy cold. Doesn’t see the dark gape of his mouth or the flash of black hair as Dick struggles to stay at the surface, his arms rigid and useless at his sides, his face tipped up to the dark Gotham sky and then, abruptly, not.

By the time Bruce has dropped his final opponent and turned around, Jason has already pulled him out. They’re both soaked, filthy water running in rivulets over Jason’s leather jacket, dripping off the curly ends of his hair. There’s a small puddle of it under Dick, who’s lying motionless against the concrete of the docks.

For a moment, Bruce doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. There’s Jason, kneeling on the ground, his helmet gone, face tight with fear. There’s Tim, standing over them, mouth wide, eyes gleaming in the dim light. There’s Dick, lying still underneath them, so <I>still</i>, the lenses of his domino flipped up, his eyes shut, wet strands of hair plastered to his pale forehead.

Bruce’s heart seizes in his chest. Thuds to a stop behind his ribs. Around him, the night is cool and dark but Bruce feels suddenly too warm, flushed with phantom heat. He blinks, lashes rasping against the lenses of the cowl and it’s somehow still there - that morbid plateau, his children blocky shadows in the darkness.

Bruce blinks again. A chill breeze brushes against him, searching for a way through his uniform. Concrete, Bruce tells himself, it’s concrete, not sand. It’s water, not blood. It’s Dick.

And yet, he’s as still as Jason was then, as lifeless. Bruce moves without thinking. He isn’t thinking. His mind is utterly blank, a void in his head.

Jason glances up when Bruce reaches them and his eyes are wide and white and he <i>snarls</i> as Bruce reaches out towards Dick, hunching over his brother, getting in the way. Bruce ignores him. Kneels. Close up, Dick looks even worse: pale and shining damply like some water-logged corpse.

Bruce has to swallow against a surge of acrid bile. He yanks off his gauntlet, tosses it across the dock. Presses fat, nerveless fingers against the crease beneath his son’s jaw. For an aching moment, he feels nothing. No thrum of blood beneath his skin. No sign of life. The sun is hot against his back. Sand shifts beneath his knees - or maybe it’s ash, thrown up by the smouldering debris. The smell of blood is heavy in the air.

Then, weak and thready, but there - a struggling pulse.

There’s a ringing in Bruce’s head so loud that he almost misses Tim crouching beside him, the three of them lined up on their knees like men at prayer. Bruce tilts Dick’s head back and his face is like a mask, waxy and unnaturally blank and it looks so <i>wrong</i>. Bruce drops his own head and stares intently at his son’s chest instead. No puff of air against his cheek. No steady rise and fall of Dick’s ribs. Bruce yanks his cowl back with a shaking hand and presses his face right against Dick’s lips. Still nothing.

The world drops out from underneath Bruce.

“Is he breathing?” Tim asks. He sounds very far away, as if he’s the one who’s underwater. The air is thick as jello and just as hard to breathe,

Bruce’s throat is too tight to speak, the words sealed inside his chest. All he can do is shake his head.

He’s not breathing. Dick isn’t breathing. Bruce’s <i>son</i> isn’t breathing.

Remember his training: CPR, one of the first things he had learned. Clear the airways - Bruce has already tilted Dick’s head back the way you’re supposed to. So: rescue breaths. Bruce gently presses Dick’s mouth open, using his other hand to keep Dick’s head tilted back. Then he seals his mouth over his son’s.

One. Two. Three.

Check for breath. Nothing. Time for compressions, then. One palm flat on his sternum, the other curled around his own splayed fingers. Arms straight to keep the force behind the movement. Don’t worry about breaking ribs, right now, it’s more important to get his chest moving.

There’s a rhythm to the whole thing. A song: <I>Nelly the Elephant packed her trunk and said goodbye to the circus</I>.

Dick - Dick has a little stuffed toy elephant. Zitka, she’s called rather than Nelly, after the actual elephant he had known, back when he’d been part of the circus. Bruce has seen it a hundred times. Dick used to cart the thing everywhere - out on family walks on the grounds, cuddled in his arms during movie nights, tucked under his chin when he’d snuggled against Bruce after sneaking into his room at night, seeking comfort after nightmares.

Does he still have it? Bruce doesn’t know. Maybe it’s back at the manor, safely tucked away in a closet in his old room. Maybe it’s in Bludhaven, sitting proudly in the middle of a messy bed. It’s not like Dick is ashamed of that sort of thing - of needing comfort, of his fond nostalgia for his childhood.

Bruce should find it for him. Bruce - he needs to find his little boy’s elephant, he needs to make this better, because Dick is <i>hurt</I> and Bruce needs him not to be.

How many compressions has that been? Dick is still and silent under Bruce’s hands. When Bruce pulls back, he half expects Dick to be watching him, eyes bright, but his lids are still closed, pale and waxy in the dim light. The only eyes on him are Tim’s and Jason’s, burning heavy against the side of his face.

More rescue breaths. Dick’s chest rises a little beneath Bruce’s palm, but it’s only his own air forcing his child’s chest to move. More compressions. Tim is saying something, sounding like he’s speaking from the other end of a very long tunnel, and Bruce can’t hear him over the thundering of his own pulse in his ears. Something about an ambulance, maybe? It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting Dick to <i>breathe</I> again.

Something cracks under his palm. Bruce falters. His ribs. His little boy’s ribs are cracked and broken under his fingers. A jut of jagged bone, slick with blood and viscera presses against him. Bruce snatches his hands back like they’ve been burnt. Stares at them blankly in the dim light. There’s - they should be soaked in blood, gloves torn by debris, but there’s only the slight shine of water against the black.

There’s a roaring like distant thunder. Like desert wind. The air is so dry. Bruce can’t breathe. His chest is so tight. Like iron. Like his own ribs are caved in. His vision blurs like the whole world is spinning around him.

Someone pushes Bruce out of the way. He tries to plant himself in front of his son, his little boy. No one deserves to touch him. No one should have a chance to hurt him. But Bruce’s muscles don’t seem to be responding to him and he’s too weak to fight against the forceful shove.

Broad shoulders block his view of his son, brown leather stretched between them. Bruce stares blankly at the man’s back as he takes over compressions. Muscles ripple beneath his jacket. The thud of each push echoes in Bruce’s ears.

It’s Jason, Bruce realises, as slowly as if he’s swimming through treacle. It’s Jason pressing down on his son’s chest with measured, forceful thrusts. But that isn’t right, because it’s Jason on the floor, his body broken and ruined, his chest still.

Or - no - it’s not Jason. It’s not Jason lying shattered on the desert sand. It’s Dick. This isn’t a memory of the past. A painful ghost of a horror that Bruce couldn’t stop. This is real and this is happening. To Dick. To Bruce’s eldest son.

And Bruce is sitting helplessly at the side as his son dies.

No. No. This isn’t - this isn’t happening. Not to Dick. This isn’t possible.

There’s a strange disconnect in Bruce’s mind. It keeps him frozen as Jason bends down and forces Dick’s shattered chest to rise. As Tim shuffles closer, pale hands fluttering, brushing damp locks of hair from Dick’s still face.

In the distance, a siren wails. Bruce hears it as though it’s coming from another planet. How many times has Dick been on another planet? How many times has Bruce worried himself sick over the danger his boy might be in, where Bruce can’t protect him. And now Dick is dying right under Bruce’s nose and he hadn’t even <i>noticed</I>.

The breath feels caught in Bruce’s throat. If Dick isn’t breathing, then Bruce doesn’t see why he should. <I>Please</I>, he begs, please let him take Dick’s place. Bruce can’t bury another son. He can’t.

He barely notices the ambulance arrive. It only registers when Jason pulls away, making space for the paramedics to take over saving Dick’s life. A desperate possessiveness rises in Bruce’s chest then. These people don’t know Dick. They don’t remember when he messed up sliding down the bannister and skinned his knee. They’ve never tucked him into bed with them after a nightmare, feeling tears soak through their cotton shirt. They’ve never held him in their arms after he took a bad tumble on patrol and felt how small he is, how fragile.

When he lunges for his son, not even entirely sure what he’s planning to do, strong arms catch him. Bruce fights against them without any finesse. Snarling. Desperate. But the grip holds firm. Someone is murmuring low in his ear but Bruce can’t hear them over the pounding of his heart and his own frantic noises.

“B,” the voice growls. “Stop. They’re trying to help him. You need to let them.”

Bruce hears the words, but doesn’t register them. All he can think is that Dick is hurt and someone is keeping Bruce from him. Someone is stopping him from getting to his son.

“B!” A different voice. Less growly but no less desperate. “Listen to Hood. Calm down.”

It’s Jason’s vigilante name that finally breaks through the static in Bruce’s head. It’s Jason’s arms around him, his voice in his ear. It’s Tim standing in front of them both, face pale beneath his domino.

Bruce slumps. Jason takes his weight with surprising ease. When did his boy get so strong? So big? Bruce had missed it. Missed Jason growing from the skinny little teenager he’d been to the vigilante he is now.

Tim closes the distance between them, blocking Bruce’s view of the ambulance and whatever the paramedics are doing with Dick. His face is so pale he’s almost glowing. His dark eyebrows are pulled low over his eyes in concern.

“He’ll be okay, B,” he says, shakily.

Bruce shuts his eyes so he doesn’t have to see the fear on his face or the ambulance as it pulls away, taking his son with it.

***

Dick is fine, Bruce tells himself. The heart monitor is beeping softly and steadily in the background. Dick’s hand is warm in his own, fingers limp but soft and dry. They’re only keeping him in the hospital to monitor for dry drowning and to let his ribs heal up a little. The worst danger has passed.

Jason is fine too. And Tim. They’ve gone to get coffee and snacks from the vending machine down the hall. They were in here just a few moments ago. Jason is here. Tim is here. Dick is here.

Bruce hasn’t lost anyone today.

As if spurred by the thought, Dick’s fingers twitch in Bruce’s grip. Bruce squeezes them in his own almost automatically. Then he shifts to lean over the bed, brushing Dick’s hair back from his pale face. Dick blinks, dark eyelashes fluttering. He groans.

“Dick?” Bruce asks, lowly. He hadn’t meant the name to come out so tentative, so broken, but his throat feels like it’s been torn to shreds.

Dick’s head lolls against the pillow. Bruce shifts to cup his cheek and hold him steady. Blue eyes peek out at him from beneath heavy, waxy lids. Bruce’s mouth feels so dry. Like a desert.

“B?” Dick murmurs. And if Bruce had sounded bad, Dick sounds as though he’s been gargling glass.

“I’m here,” Bruce says. “I’m here, Dick. You’re okay.”

Dick frowns. He blinks but his eyes are still glazed and unfocused. “What,” he manages, “what happened? Where am I?”

Bruce strokes a trembling hand over Dick’s cheek. Why is he shaking? Batman’s hands are supposed to be steady. And Dick is fine. He’s here. He’s talking, even. Perfectly okay.

“You’re at the hospital, sweetheart. You were thrown into the harbour during patrol.”

Dick swallows dryly. His throat clicks. It sounds like it hurts and Bruce can’t stop himself from wincing.

“The hospital?” Dick whispers.

“Gotham General.”

“Why?” Dick asks, dark brows low over shiny eyes. “Why not…the cave?”

Bruce’s throat is thick, his words unwieldy. “You nearly died,” Bruce croaks. “You were…you weren’t breathing. We needed an ambulance. Otherwise…”

He can’t bring himself to finish. Stupidly, Bruce feels quick heat rising behind his eyes, the threat of tears. Suddenly, he can’t breathe. His hands are shaking so badly. To try to stem the trembling, Bruce clasps them close to his chest. Then he bends over them, pressing his face to Dick’s sternum. His son’s heart thuds beneath his ribs.

“B?” Dick asks, again, voice small and unsure. A hand touches Bruce’s head, nimble fingers threading through his sweaty hair.

“You nearly died,” is all Bruce can manage, muffled against the hospital sheets.

Dick makes a soft sound. He pets at Bruce and a swell of painful affection crashes through Bruce’s chest.

“I’m here,” Dick whispers, voice rough. “I’m still here, B. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Bruce whispers back, but he can’t bring himself to lift his head. The thud of Dick’s heart is too reassuring. He remembers it weak and thready against his fingers. He remembers pressing his face to a shattered chest and hearing nothing but hollow silence.

Dick doesn’t reply, but his hand continues to move against Bruce’s hair. Bruce appreciates the reassurance - the way Dick implicitly understands that Bruce needs to know he’s awake. He’s alive.

They sit like that for long enough that Bruce is surprised Dick doesn’t fall back asleep. Eventually, Jason and Tim return. If they’re surprised by the scene they stumble on - Dick awake but not fully aware, Bruce bent over him like a man at prayer - they make no comment.

“Glad to see you’re awake,” Jason says, gruffly. “You nearly gave the old man a heart attack.”

Dick hums. Bruce wants to defend himself, but he can’t seem to dredge up the words.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” Dick says, softly. “All of you.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Jason says, dismissively.

Bruce remembers the wide, wild look in Jason’s eyes. The way he had snarled at Bruce when he’d first reached Dick’s side.

He doesn’t remind Jason of that.

“Still,” Dick says, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Bruce says, finally lifting his head. He cups Dick’s cheek again, fondly. “I’m just glad you’re still here.”

Dick swallows again. Bruce will have to ask Tim or Jason to get some ice.

“Me too,” Dick says. “I’m not going anywhere, B.”

[bluegarners]

By popular demand, I have written a Part 2 for mainstay for @viceturtle. Thank you so much @newsical for being an immense help with this!!

Part 1.

This chapter was inspired by this conversation between @bigskydreaming and @fuyunoakegata

ao3

There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He thinks everyone has at least some degree of it within themselves. A refusal to move or consent to something. Sure, some don’t hesitate long. They give. They bend. They break. But the stubbornness is in that hesitation. That moment of ‘Am I really doing this? Should I be doing this? Why in the world should I do this?’. It’s about the pause, is what he’s trying to get at, that makes stubbornness so inherent to each individual. 

It breathes in the form of grudges. Arguments. Games of she-said-he-said-they-said. Right or wrong. I told you so’s and I’m not sorry’s. 

Jason does all of those things like it's second nature. He’s not going to pretend like he’s some saint who can understand the other side and reason with them. If he thinks he’s right, it’s not a matter of if the other person is actually right or wrong. He knows he’s right, so it doesn’t matter in the end. He knows what he knows, and if he doesn’t— whatever. Immovable object and all that.

So, yeah. There’s a lot to be said about his stubbornness. 

He calls Red Robin anyway.

“He’s gone.”

“Sorry, what? I need context for this. There’s a lot of people this could apply to—”

“Dick. Dick is gone.”

“Oh. Like, just now he left?”

“I don’t know. Some guy came and took him.”

“As much as I love vague conversations, this isn’t helping me and I don’t understand why you’re calling in the first place.”

“Dick is fucking. Gone. What do you not understand about that.”

“Jesus, I don’t know, Jason. What, is he not supposed to be gone? He said he was going to leave again. He already said ‘hi’ to Damian, so I don’t see why he would stick around any longer.”

“Hm.”

“Fuck me, didn’t you know? This was all just- just some visit for him. Sure, he’ll be back eventually, but fuck knows if he’s actually—”

He hangs up. Pockets his phone. Listens as the rain continues to drench the world outside of his little apartment. His shoulders hurt. There’s a bruise on his chest. Right between his fifth and sixth ribs. He has a split lip. He put ointment on it earlier but it still stings. His knees ache. He has a distant memory of his mother complaining about her knees too. Something about the weather making them act up.

He’s twenty-three.

He’s getting old.

On the table next to him is a box of cigarettes. Low-tar. Filtered. In his right pocket, there’s a lighter he got from someone years ago. He doesn’t know. Maybe he stole it. Found it. 

He pulls it out. Shakes a cigarette out of the thin box. Holds the paper wrapped nicotine between his lips, lifting the lighter and thumbing the flink strike. 

Click. 

He shakes the lighter. Tries again.

Click.

Gotham hasn’t had this much rain in a long time. It’s nearing October. Maybe it’s in season or whatever weather does. He doesn’t know the term.

Click.

It’s raining outside. Jason can see it. There’s raindrops on his window. He can hear it clattering against the fire-escape. Gray and black and mixes of yellow from street lamps below. Jason is inside on the comfort of his couch. Sure, it’s not the best apartment, but it doesn’t leak. The ceiling is fine and he hasn’t had any problems with it before. His face is wet though. He doesn’t know why.

Click.

Click.

Click.

The cigarette falls from his lips and lands with a thud on the stained carpet. The T.V is on. Says the storm over Gotham will last for the next few days. An unprecedented seven inches of rain predicted. The GCPD is advising everyone to stay indoors. Crime is expected to rise with the water levels.

Click.

His clothes are still soaked. He’s probably ruining his couch. He can’t remember if he took his boots off or not. 

Click.

Jason sighs. His chest feels heavy, like someone is sitting on top of him. It’s just him though. Only him in his apartment. He likes having his own space. The neighbors get loud sometimes, but it’s not as if he’s a five star resident either. It’s always been like this. He is…. Alone.

Click.

Dick was gone. Came back. And now, Dick is gone again. Did he do that? Did he drive him away? Is this his fault? Jason doesn’t know. Doesn’t care. Doesn’t know if he doesn’t care at all, but at least the rain is nice to listen to. Yeah. The rain is really nice. Consistent. Steady.

Click.

He didn’t take off his boots.

 ~oOo~

One month is all it takes. 

One month and Nightwing is out spotted in Bludhaven, his photo splashed across every news outlet from Gotham to Metropolis. New Jersey missed its boy in blue and cheers at his return.

Nightwing stays in Bludhaven though. Red Hood stays in Gotham. Just as it used to be. Back to normal. Yeah.

The rain stopped a week ago.

Jason misses the noise.

 ~oOo~

“Won’t you come?”

“No.”

“Please, Master Jason? We would love to have you here. It has been too long.”

“I can’t.”

“I thought you loved turkey. There’ll be plenty of leftovers and I know you’ve been meaning to return the tupperware from last time. It’ll be good for you to leave that apartment of yours.”

“I have better things to do than play nice and talk politics in Brucie Wayne’s mansion. I’m not coming.”

“I know you have your own quarrels with Master Dick, but—”

“It’s not about him. I don’t give a fuck about what he’s doing or what stick Bruce has up his ass this time. I am not walking into the line of fire just to save everyone else an evening of beating around the bush. I. Am. Not. Going.”

“. . . Then won’t you at least visit? I miss you. I worry about you.”

“I’m sorry, Alfred.”

“I am too, my boy.”

  Click.

 Jason spends Thanksgiving out in the Narrows. He’s not rich, doesn’t want to be, but he has money. Plenty he doesn’t need to spend on himself. He goes grocery shopping. Fills two, three carts worth of canned food and rotisserie chickens. Goes home, carries the bags in all at once. Organizes them. 

Single. Partners. Family.

He leaves his apartment. He is not Jason Todd. He is not Red Hood. He’s just some guy out in the Narrows. 

He hands out the bags. Has the decency to look the people in the eyes, knowing he was that street kid once. Seeing his mother in each dirty, beaten face he comes across. Pitying the drunken men and the addicts. They accept his offerings. It would be stupid not to. No one says thank you. He doesn’t need them to.

He goes home. His arms are sore. The bruises have completely faded.

The apartment is empty.

  Click

 Sometimes, there are days where he doesn’t know why. 

That’s a big concept: why? 

He thinks it carries too much weight. Maybe if he had survived past tenth grade, he could’ve signed up for a philosophy or debate class, maybe shed some light on that particular question, but he didn’t. Survive. So, he only has his own mind to ponder the concept. He’s read a couple books. Never fully understood the words he read though. He would’ve liked to, but he didn’t. Understand. 

But it’s up to interpretation right? So, here’s where he’s at.

Jason doesn’t understand or know why sometimes, and it becomes a problem.

He doesn’t understand why he got such a bad hand for parents. Why Bruce didn’t grieve like Jason wanted him to (so desperately yearned for, screamed for, died for). Why someone thought it was a good idea for him to live out a second-still-the-same life. Why he came back so different. (Was he? Different? He doesn’t think he came back wrong but he doesn’t know a lot. Well, he does. But, if he came back wrong then that means he wasn’t right to begin with and he’s always right and if he’s wrong then—). 

He doesn’t know why he punched Dick. He didn’t want to. Not really. But he did. Want to. Badly so. Wanted proof, wanted penance, wanted forgiveness, wanted retribution, wanted that sting that comes with reality and the regret of a little something called mortality. Horse drawn carriage alongside Death, patting the seat next to it. 

Okay, he knows why .

He doesn’t understand why, though.

Jason doesn’t understand why he gets so angry sometimes. It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel right, like he’s supposed to be feeling something else but he’s just flipped upside down so there’s no point in trying to right himself. He’s always right anyway. Yeah. Yeah.

He doesn’t understand why he says things, why he opens his mouth at all when he regrets them so quickly after. He yells a lot. Raises his voice and spits mean words and cusses worse than anyone else he knows and regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. But he doesn’t learn. Doesn’t rethink it, doesn’t look back and remember the lesson he taught himself. You can’t be taught if you’re always right anyway, so what’s the point? Why regret it when he’s just going to do it again? 

That’s a big word: why.

There are answers attached to the word. Reasons for the question being asked. Explanations and solutions and resolutions.

Jason is good at solving problems, is quick to work around it and get the job done. And a question is just a problem being asked, right? It’s verbal, that’s the only difference, so if he’s such a good problem solver, if he’s such a goddamn good thinker and understands things like philosophy and literature and great big concepts and words—

Why did he do that? Why did he say those things? Why can’t he make up his fucking mind? Why is he the way he is? Why does he just push and shove and drive away everyone and everything? Why did he come back different? Why did he come back wrong? Why didn’t Bruce love him enough to end things? Why was he worth a second chance when he screws up and regrets so much? Why do people still fucking try with him? Why can’t he get one goddamn thing right? Why is he always—

Click.

“Why didn’t you come to dinner?”

Click.

Red Hood is in Gotham. Nightwing is too. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. The air is cold and there’s ice in the wind. It’s a clear night. A quiet frost coats the rooftop and Jason can hear his brother’s footsteps.

“We missed you, you know. Here, Agent A wanted me to give you these.”

Jason turns. Dick is holding out a duffle-cooler. He stands six feet away.

“They’re just leftovers. Turkey, sweet potatoes, casserole, pie; the fixings.”

Jason doesn’t move. Neither does Dick. To anyone else, it would look like a stand-off between Nightwing and Red Hood, neutral ground tensions. They both know it’s not.

It is cold and there is ice in the wind and the rainy season is long past. When they breathe, it erupts out of them in the form of white vapor and Jason can only think of the fact that it looks like smoke. His lighter still doesn’t work. It sits in his right pocket. He wants to take it out. Hear the click. 

“There’s some beer too,” Dick adds softly, voice carried away and twisted in the sharp air. “I have a bottle opener.”

Nightwing walks a few paces away to sit against an A/C unit, shielding himself from the wind. He sets the cooler down beside him, unzipping the duffle and pulling out two bottles of a brand Jason doesn’t recognize, and pats the space next to him. Horse drawn carriage. 

Why is a big concept. A big word. Maybe one of the bigger questions in the repertoire. 

He doesn’t know nor understand why he takes the offered seat. He just does. It feels right to do so. Jason takes the offered bottle too and opens it himself. Hands back the blade. Takes a sip.

It’s cold. It warms him. 

He doesn’t understand:

“Why?”

Dick swirls the alcohol around, bubbles rising to the surface. “Why, what?” 

There’s a lot of things Jason could say. Could ask. He’s had two months to think about a question that would fit the answer he’s trying so hard to get; one that would satisfy the cavern that just keeps getting wider and wider, this empty presence that digs deeper inside him. He likes to think it would be a really intelligent question, one that would stump his all knowing brother; the one with all the answers in the world and a smile to accompany it. Dick had been on this pedestal for as long as Jason can remember. Had been placed so high above himself, even now, it’s impossible for him to reach, fingers a thousand miles away from ever grazing the top.

A lot of people would tell him he’s done this to himself. That the things he decides to do, his actions, what he says to other people and what they do as a consequence; all a product of his own creation. Even the cavern inside of him, filled with stalagmites and cobwebs and so many empty boxes, perhaps he did that to himself. He— He did that. To himself. 

But Jason doesn’t like being wrong. Doesn’t like the fear that invades every nerve in his body when faced with the possibility of being so far off from the mark that it comes back and strikes him in the face. He’s paid the price for being wrong, has the scars and the memories and the stories to prove it, but he’s also been right, over and over again, and it feels so good to be right.

It felt good to punch his brother.

It felt good to have a reason to do so. 

The anger, the fear, the possessive guilt that clung to him in those months where Dick was dead and he was at the wheel, knowing he was going to crash and burn eventually and probably take everyone with him. He played the long game and knew the end result. Jason had fooled himself with the thought of taking Dick’s place, thinking he could climb up that enormous pedestal he had placed there himself all those years ago. Torn down and resurrected today.

He doesn’t have a question though. Not a singular, all encompassing question that would piece together every missing hole inside of him and fill the void. His mother used to tell him he talked too much, that a big mouth like his would one day get him into trouble. She also told him that he was smart and curious and kind and so much more than anything she would ever be able to give him. Jason doesn’t understand why she said so many contrary things.  Wishes he could ask her, have the opportunity to finally get the answers he wanted from her when he left everything behind just for a chance to do so. He can’t though. She died. He died too.

Dick didn’t.

“Why did you leave?” 

His brother stops swirling the contents of his bottle, choosing instead to release a heavy sigh that travels into the air in a thick cloud of tired gray and remorse. “I wasn’t in a good place at the time. Leaving felt like the only good thing left I could do. Batman gave me the mission and I… I took it.”

“What part of letting us all think you were dead was ‘good’? How does that translate to ‘good’ in your world?”

“I wasn’t a part of that decision,” Dick says pointedly, setting down his beer and thunking his head back to rest against the unit. “I was still comatose by the time Batman had broken the news to everyone else. I told you, Hood, I had no choice. Leaving was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it was all that made sense to do.”

He pauses, a hand coming up to scrub at the sides of his face. “Robin had just… died. Protecting me. I got captured by people with faces I’ve known my entire life and couldn’t escape them. I let myself get hooked up to that- that machine and exposed my identity to the entire world. Do you have any idea what that would’ve done to you all, had I stayed? Everyone knew who Nightwing was under the mask. It would’ve— People would have figured the rest out soon enough. When Batman offered me the opportunity to at least make something right, I took it.”

Something unsettles inside Jason’s chest. Leaking, fracturing. It feels wrong. He feels- “So, what? You left because you felt bad ? Gallivanted off as soon as the opportunity was presented? Oh, I’m sure you’d love to do that again. Hey, Nightwing, tell me, are you feeling bad right now? Would you like a one-way ticket to Spain? I bet that’d make you feel much better.”

Dick frowns, head swiveling to look at Jason. “If that’s how you’d like to picture it, then fine. Yeah, I felt bad about exposing my entire family’s identities. I felt bad about letting down Batman and getting myself taken. I felt bad about dying and not being—”

“Quit fucking saying you died! You didn’t. You put on a good show, I’ll give you that, but having a model that looks just like you being buried in the ground doesn’t qualify as you dying. Get the fuck over yourself.”

A sharp crack meets his words and Jason snaps his head over to see Dick’s bottle broken against the ground, the older man having knocked it over with his hand.

Nightwing’s white lenses are staring at him and Red Hood meets his gaze unflinchingly, if only for the reason that he can’t see his brother’s eyes. There was something to be said about clear eyes in a city full of smog and endless voids, and Jason has looked enough people in the eye to know when to blink and walk away. The dark does not have a gaze to collapse within and yet there is empty white surrounding them.

“Come with me.” 

Why is too big of a word.

 Jason follows anyway.

He’s at the end of his rope in asking questions he knows no one will be able to answer. Knows that the answer he wants is not one anyone is willing to give, or even can give. See, Jason knows why. Has an understanding with the concept in a personal way unlike anyone else will ever have. He knows, understands, gets exactly what the question demands with all of its little fallacies and conundrums and ever so many follow ups. If he could, Jason would shake hands with it, an agreement to never speak a word of its existence ever again. But, how could he ponder the question when he himself cannot bear to fathom his own existence?

Nightwing is already scaling down a fire-escape, duffle-cooler slung over his shoulder, and Jason watches his head disappear below the roof line. He stands up, feet numb and hands feeling bitten, and side glances the broken bottle and the one he’s leaving behind. Even with the bleak, gray weather, the glass twinkles and shimmers in the ice, and, just faintly, Jason can smell the alcohol in the wind. Gotham is a city filled with muck, grease, scum, and litter. There is no difference in adding their own to the ever increasing pile, and yet Jason cannot help amend himself with the thought that at least their trash is beautiful in the cold.

He walks over to the edge of the roof, peering down to where he can see Nightwing traveling up a different, rusted ladder, ready to seek a new vantage point for wherever it is he’s decided to lead Jason. He doesn’t have his helmet on tonight, just a plain domino to hide his face, and the frost cuts against his nose and lips. A shiver runs through his body and Jason slides down into the alleyway below, keeping his brother in eye-sight. Nightwing launches a grapple, clinging to another building about 200 meters away, and Red Hood follows suit, the chill buffering inside of his jacket.

They arrive at one of those motel looking buildings, the outward appearance completely abandoned. Bruce had built this many years ago, one of the first of several safe-houses, and for all intents and purposes, it served to only attract the kinds of people that knew how to keep their mouths shut. The “general office” is where Dick walks into, a separate facility from the boarding rooms. He waits for Jason to enter, having taken a back door of four inches of solid steel, and locks it behind them once the younger has entered as well.

Dick throws the duffle onto one of the chairs inside the room, and rolls his shoulders in a circular motion, a long sigh escaping him. Somewhere, Jason can hear the heater kicking on.

He thumbs his lighter.

Click.

He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to be doing, waiting by the door for Dick to make the first move. His brother says nothing though, continuing to move his joints around and rub his hands furiously together. He doesn’t even glance at Jason as he leaves the main room, entering another side door and into, what Jason assumes is, a bathroom. Left alone, Jason keeps his boots on and sits down.

Click.

He waits. Peels off his mask and winces at the pull on his skin. Rubs at his eyes and forehead. Sighs.

Click. Click.

He stares at the domino in his lap, regretting having taken it off. Dick could look him in the eye now. He didn’t— He doesn’t like that. You only look people in the eye when you want to convey something, be it emotion, honesty, or purely how much you don’t give a shit. Jason doesn’t know what it meant when he looked at all those people in the Narrows a few days ago. Doesn’t know what it meant when they looked at him. Who was he, then? He was no one. No one. 

Click.

The bathroom door opens and Dick steps out wearing a thick tank top and a long pair of joggers. Just beyond the cracked doorway, Jason can see his Nightwing suit hung up against a rack. The remnants of irritated skin also pepper his brother’s face, red and splotchy. 

Dick looks up and meets his gaze.

Click.

“This the part where you try to argue yourself right?”

His older brother frowns. “No, it’s not.”

Jason looks away.

Click. Click. Click.

“What’s that in your pocket?”

“Just some old lighter. It doesn’t work.”

“Ah.”

The stiff silence reverberates between them. Normally, when conversation isn’t invited, Dick would go off somewhere and find something to do; something in his head urging him to seek out an offering. It was a tactic the older man used often, something to hold or something else to focus your attention on making an otherwise shaky atmosphere comfortable. When he was still Robin, it was a ploy Jason found himself enjoying sometimes, where Nightwing would meet him on some pre-designated roof carrying hot chocolate or donuts and Jason would gripe to the older man about Bruce’s latest restriction or Batman’s newest growl. Their conversations would last well into the night and it was their secret they kept together, a fall-back to go to when things were too uncertain or days were too long.

Those memories were nice. Fond, even. 

Dick does not have an offering this time.

“Did you believe I was dead?”

Jason sucks in a breath, fingers stilling against his lighter. “Yes.” Pause. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” Jason fires back. “It was on live television for Christ’s sake, Dick! Half the world watched you die.”

“It’s not as if doctored film has never been done before, even if it was live. At some point, it cut off too. I’ve watched the video myself. My death wasn’t shown on screen.”

“There was audio. I could hear your heart stopping on the machine.”

“There was a lot of fighting going on. It was chaos.”

“Fine, I didn’t see you die and the video was shit. But Bruce told us you were dead. Batman told us you had died.”

“And Batman doesn’t lie.”

“Fuck you.”

Dick sighs, leaning back against one of the walls. “Look, I’m not trying to pick another fight with you. I don’t want to.”

“Then what. Do. You. Want,” Jason grounds out, rising from his chair. “I’m sick of this. I am so sick of not knowing what the fuck is going on with you and Bruce, with all of your little secrets and fake-deaths and—”

“It wasn’t fake,” Dick interrupts, standing his ground. “It may not have been for long, but my heart did stop. I died in that machine, Jason, and I’m upset you guys accepted that.”

“Well, what the fuck else were we supposed to do?” Jason erupts, flinging his arms wide. “Fucking poke at your body until you were alive again? Wait next to your corpse in the morgue with your suit on hand, just in case you decided to wake up?”

“You could’ve at least doubted, ” Dick hisses. Jason can hear the heater still humming. The room is cold though. Bitter. “At the very least, you guys could’ve looked into it. Bruce isn’t the perfect, untouchable beast we’ve made him into. He left a trail. A trail that would have led right to the fake body he created while I was comatose. A trail that would have shown the Batmobile needing repairs it shouldn’t have needed. A trail that would have shown the documents he forged to get me into Spyral. There were so many things, Jason! So many goddamn things that would have shown you guys I wasn’t dead!”

“If you wanted to be found so badly, why didn’t you tell us?” Jason snarls, that leaking fracture in his chest pooling into his lungs. “Why didn’t you say a single word if you were so desperate for someone to notice?”

“I already told you,” Dick says quietly. “I needed to make things right. Bruce offered a way to do it and I needed that; the space, away from everything, everyone, in my life that I knew I had failed. I don’t regret it, and I am sorry it caused so much pain, but—”

Click.

“—was it really so wrong to want someone to save me?”

The leak implodes and Jason stops breathing.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“I know it sounds ridiculous. I should be able to handle these things, but I— there was this moment where I convinced myself that none of what was happening was real and that it was all some nightmare I was watching.”

The blows had stung and burned in the way only rusted metal against bone and flesh could. His left eye was bleeding and his nose had been broken long ago. After the thirtieth strike, Jason had somehow convinced himself it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t there, in that old warehouse, and that he wasn’t some child-soldier-hero being beaten to death by a maniac who laughed and giggled at his pain. 

“When I woke up, I really believed that. I-I was so convinced and then Bruce showed up and gave me this mission and, god, Jason, how could I have ever said no? I had failed. Bruce told me I failed. ”

He remembers that sadistic clock in the corner. Silent up until the last ten seconds. It had its own little tick, a click, and it was the stupidest looking bomb Jason had ever seen, bright red and just any old alarm clock with a few extra wires. A nightmare. All just a nightmare and Jason had begged the universe for him to wake up. For someone, anyone, to save him. For Batman to come swooping in and rescue him from his stupid fucking mistakes but—

Click.

Dick breathes out, a shuttering exhale that rocks him to his core. “Spyral, the mission, everything after… It was my penance, I think. Bruce’s way of forgiving me for failing. There was just no other way, Jason. It was all I had left. I guess I had just hoped someone was still in my corner, even after fucking it all up, you know?”

He does. Jason does know with a clarity that haunts him every morning he wakes up and finds the events unchanged. There are cobwebs and old boxes inside his cavern, the place where his soul used to be, but he knows. He knows he came back wrong. That he came back different. That something inside of him was missing when he opened his eyes to mystic green and an emptiness that plagued him until he came back to Gotham; rage, fear, and a deep sadness taking up that empty space inside of him. He doesn’t know how many times he’s asked himself ‘why?’ only to ignore the answer given to him. Too many. 

And maybe Dick has asked that same question as well. Maybe he has his own cavern deep inside of him, filled with his own fragmented cobwebs and starved crates, ghosts that continue to follow his every step, and whispers that forever ring in his ears. Perhaps the dead carry memories and questions wherever they go, and perhaps that is their sole purpose. They only stay to recount and wish and want and only breach the word “if” and “maybe”. 

But they are alive now. They live. They breathe. 

Jason thought death connected himself to his elder brother, but perhaps it was the voids inside of them both that bound them together. The desperation that clung to their beings, seeking approval, seeking retribution, seeking out anything that’ll make them feel whole once more after having been stripped bare and left in the throes of Death's carriage. This was the tie that bound them together. It wasn’t Bruce. It wasn’t Robin. It wasn’t death.

It was simply the missing pieces inside of them. Brothers not by blood, but by the very nature of their search for meaning. And that was all.

“Yeah,” Jason says, the molten gravity of this answer leaving him boneless. “Okay.”

Dick stares at him with the same clear eyes he’s looked at his younger brother with since day one. Something passes behind those eyes, a shift in the monumental focus that is Dick Grayson’s ever present gaze, and the heater continues to thrum in the background, just as ubiquitous as Gotham always was and always will be for them. There was a fundamental alteration inside them both, something taken from them that can’t be replaced, and Jason feels as though he is not alone anymore. There is another presence, another existence, in his life full of betrayal that shares the same scars and the same emptiness that has captured him since the day Bruce stopped hoping for him.

“Okay?” Dick repeats quietly, and Jason can hear the echo inside his chest. “Is that all?” 

“No,” Jason murmurs, easing back into the chair he had left. “No, it’s not. But I… I can’t do more of this right now. I don’t want to.”

“I don’t either,” Dick sighs, the exhaustion from his own ordeals weighing down his shoulders and causing him to slide down the wall. “It’s— I never wanted to, Jason. You know that, right?”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I guess- We deal with it, right?”

Jason wants to laugh. Maybe give a little less weight on his back to the warm air around them, but it sounds like a lot to do. He exhales instead, something maybe interpretable as a tired grin lifting his mouth. “Another time, then?”

Perhaps that is a statement that can’t be guaranteed nor promised. Time is scarce in their world, more so than anyone else's, but it is a scarcity they are well accustomed to. Death had departed in Its carriage, the seat left warm by their presence, but for now, they had left and that was all that really mattered. Why they left, why they need time they don’t have, why the caverns inside of them exist. All questions that have been answered before. Maybe when the sky isn’t gray, or when the rain isn’t pounding against fractured ceilings, they can begin to make amends and go from there. But the safe-house is warm.

It is warm.

“Another time.”

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

whumptober day 10: crying

slightly more straightforward h/c this time!

summary: set after the ric grayson/joker war arc in nightwing. 

dick’s been missing for two months. jason finds him first, but it’s just the first step in finding how very, very lost dick really is.

warnings: SPOILERS for the aforementioned nightwing arcs. plentiful cursing. moderately graphic descriptions of injuries.

crying

The last time Jason received a family-wide SOS to help them rescue Dick, the guy was a twice-brainwashed mess whose brain was being pulled in opposite directions by the Court of Owls and the fucking Joker, and that was after said brain had been shattered by a fucking sniper’s bullet. (And a period of being left to fend for himself with a broken brain in between, but Jason doesn’t really like to think about that.) This time, he doesn’t know quite what to expect. He can’t imagine things have gotten even worse than the last go-around, but then again, Jason knows from personal experience that there’s no end to the list of ‘things that are worse than dying’.

Besides, the alert came from Babs. And, in quick succession, Tim, Bruce, Duke, and Cass. If nothing else, Jason is curious.

Dick disappeared from Bludhaven about two months ago. The reason the oh-so-precise Bats have the word ‘about’ in that statement is because nobody can really pinpoint the exact date it happened. Donna can recall dropping by his place ten weeks ago. Tim maybe exchanged a few emails or text messages a few weeks ago but didn’t really get alarmed about Dick not responding to his messages until the radio silence stretched for over a month. Bruce had his trackers on (that bastard) but Dick hates them and is known to destroy the ones he finds. And they can’t even really depend on reports of Nightwing sightings in the city because having his brain knocked around and pulled apart like taffy means Dick takes regular holidays from patrols if he’s not feeling particularly steady that day. (Look what being sensible and having a smidgeon of a sense of self-preservation got him.) And the CCTV in his apartment complex was shit, so. 

It’s almost like it was a planned thing, like he was kidnapped, but honestly it’s how things go and how they’ve gone for a very long time: they drift in their own worlds for long periods until an event brings them together, and then it’s back to being scattered across the country again (or sometimes the world, or sometimes the galaxy). Dick is more prone to this than most; he’s probably gone undercover more than any of them, and he’s lived the longest on his own as well. 

Even after the clusterfuck that was the last year and change, it’s nothing new. And if that isn’t the most fucking depressing thing that Jason’s had to think about today, it turns out that not only have the Family figured out where Dick is, but that Jason is the one that’s closest to his location. 

So here he is, shivering, on a particularly icy night on the Gotham docks, scoping out the warehouse where Dick’s supposed to be. It’s not very well-guarded, which either means there’s nothing in there and this is a massive waste of his time, or that it’s a trap and what’s waiting on the other side is a fucking bomb or something even worse. It’s not a great situation to be in either way, and Jason’s got half a mind to have Tim or even Bruce take over--but it’d take too long for them to get there and Jason’s never been fond of the idea of handing over to someone else anything that he could potentially do by himself.

Besides, like he said, he’s curious.

He crouches down at his vantage point overlooking the warehouse and presses the communicator in his ear. “Two guards in front but nothing else; the place is practically abandoned. Infrared picking up three people inside.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, bracing, ready to spring. “I’m about to go in.”

Tim grunts. “I’ll be there in fifteen, give or take a couple.”

“Twenty,” Bruce says. Then: “Hood, you--” An uncharacteristic pause, and Jason can feel the sudden, uneasy chill across the entire comm channel. Bruce clears his throat. “Be careful. Assess the situation first. Don’t engage alone unless it’s an emergency.”

There’s a thanks for stating the obvious on the tip of Jason’s tongue, but something about the gravity of the situation, the mildest quaver in Bruce’s voice (he’s been missing for two months, god, two months) has him say, instead: “Roger that.”

Jason makes quick work of the guards in the front, leaving them in unconscious heaps on the ground before he creeps in. They’d hardly put up a fight, which just makes Jason’s stomach twist in anxious knots. The anxiety is made worse by the complete lack of resistance when he’s actually inside: there are only two huge, cavernous rooms, and one of them has two of the three people that he’d detected. They scatter as soon as they see him and Jason considers chasing, but now his nerves are stretched so taut that he thinks he’s going to vomit if he doesn’t see Dick now--

The night-vision on Jason’s helmet catches a figure sitting, slumped, in the corner of the room. A chain connects a manacle around its ankle to the wall, and another between the same wall and… a collar around its neck. Jason’s blood is already boiling before he steps closer and recognises the figure as Dick. His hair is long and shabby, having grown past his chin, curtaining his face. He’s shirtless but wearing ripped, stained jeans. His hands are cuffed in front of him, the thin metal biting into his wrists enough to leave his hands puffy and slightly purple from the lack of effective circulation. He looks considerably thinner--Jason can just about count the ribs under his skin--and every visible part of his torso is painted in bruises in various stages of healing. And--

--and he’s breathing.

Well, thank fuck. That’s a start.

Jason crouches in front of Dick and presses his comm again. “Found N. Little worse for wear, but alive and safe.”

He ignores the immediate clamour of questions from the others to focus on trying to get Dick awake. He brushes Dick’s hair aside and gently lifts his chin to have a look at his eyes. 

Dick smiles at him. “Hey.”

Jason is beset by an onslaught of emotion that’s part relief, part incredulity and part anger, so much so that he thinks he’s going to fucking burst with the pressure of it. Of course that would be the first thing out of Dick’s mouth--hey--like he’s meeting Jason for cocktails after work instead of being rescued after two months of captivity and torture! Well he can take that hey and shove it right up his fucking--

“Is there anything else here we need to worry about,” Jason says, busying himself with picking the locks on Dick’s manacles so that he doesn’t snap and say something he’ll regret.

Dick shakes his head. He’s got a shaggy beard going and he stinks of sweat and urine and filth, but there’s a sense of… togetherness to him, like he’d always known that Jason was going to show up at this exact minute and that had always been part of his plan. “They scattered as soon as they got word that you guys were coming,” he says, voice thin and raspy. “I guess not enough of them were curious to stick around to find out why so many capes would be coming for me.”

Jason pops the manacles and collar loose and goes to work on the cuffs. “So you weren’t taken as Nightwing.”

Dick sighs, then winces as the motion pulls on the gigantic bruise around his neck. “I wasn’t taken as Dick Grayson, either.”

The cuffs come off with a click. Jason stares at him. “So… what, you were just some poor mug they picked up off the streets to… torture for shits and giggles?”

Dick is silent for a moment. His eyes flick to a point behind Jason and back again. “They knew me as Ric.”

It takes a moment for the name to click in Jason’s brain, but he finally remembers that it was what Dick called himself during his brain-injured year in Bludhaven. “Why would Ric have enemies?” he says, without thinking.

There’s that smile on Dick’s face again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Ric did have a life, Jason. And friends. And… enemies.” He begins to move, bare feet shifting against the floor and shifting his weight onto his hands as if he’s trying to figure out a way to stand up, but barely manages an inch of elevation before he runs out of energy, breathing heavily. “Ric--I used to fight. Street fights. Involved a lot more money and people than I remembered, and… apparently a lot of people felt betrayed when I just up and left the city one day. I’ve been fighting matches here almost every day.” A sudden, sharp grin. “I haven’t lost yet.”

Jason--stops. Utterly freezes, hands midway to helping Dick sit upright, because there’s something terribly, terribly wrong here. “Why didn’t you ever try to escape? And how--I mean, in the first place--”

How did you even get caught?

To Jason’s horror, tears start rolling down Dick’s face. His expression doesn’t really change, so Jason’s not sure that Dick’s even aware that he’s crying, but right now Jason is already halfway to being mortified. “I was on my way back from the gym,” Dick says finally, “and I think I--I blacked out. It happens sometimes.” Dick gives a wet laugh. “Talk about bad timing.”

“And--and what, you blacked out for two months?”

At this Dick’s face crumples, and suddenly Jason gets it: this is a man pushed and pushed to the end of his rope and beyond, utterly exhausted, past the point of caring who knows about it or why. “I guess…” Dick swallows. “I didn’t really see the difference. Between--between here and out there.”

Jason wants to scream, shake his shoulders--a shameful part of him even wants to hit Dick--and tell him that of course it was different outside of this stupid, dank warehouse: he has friends and family and a lifetime of experience to support him while he flies free. It’s ridiculous to even compare the two, and Jason is ready to put these words down to the effects of too much pain and too little food.

Except--

(plucked you right out of one life and stuffed you into another, didn’t they? treated you like a puppet without a past and a future, didn’t they? didn’t let you entertain the idea of a different life even for a minute, did they? punished you for straying, reminded you there was just too much at stake, and that those stakes were always, always bigger than you or your health or your happiness or your future--)

“Dick, I--” Jason really doesn’t know what to say. Tim says, “ETA five” in his ear while Bruce says, “Right behind you, Robin” and Jason knows, just knows, that this isn’t how they would want to see Dick, and more importantly, this isn’t how Dick would want them to see him.

He gathers Dick in his arms and presses him to his chest. Dick freezes for a second, surprised, then melts into his embrace. His shoulders shake, hands coming up to weakly grasp at Jason’s jacket. The sobs reach a crescendo quickly, a pathetic keening muffled into Jason’s chest, before tapering away and Dick is still, just… breathing. 

Jason breathes with him.

That’s how Tim and Bruce find them a couple of minutes later. Dick peels away and somehow musters the energy to reassure them. Bruce helps him up and carries him to the car while Jason follows; just as Dick’s lowered into the backseat his hand shoots out, grasping Jason’s arm in a silent plea. 

Jason gets in with him. Neither he nor Bruce say anything through the whole drive at the tears that continue to pour down Dick’s face, but Jason doesn’t let go of his hand for the whole ride.

[red-jaebyrd]

Somebody That I Used to Know

Here is the long awaited sequel to “My Brother’s Keeper”. Sorry it took so long I was in in the process of moving out of state. Thank you to @brokenhearted-queen for your awesome beta work! I really appreciated it.

This wasn’t part of the plan, but since Jason and his brothers had arrived in Bludhaven nothing had happened according to their plan. They weren’t supposed to make contact with Ric this soon, this fast, but it happened. They had agreed in the beginning to simply sit back, watch him, and make sure he was safe from The Court of Owls.

As far as Jason knew The Court had been trying for years to acquire Dick to their cause to become their Talon. In each encounter they were not successful. Opportunity struck when Dick had been shot in the head. What better opening did an evil organization need to swoop in and take advantage of an asset with amnesia? Jason, Tim and Damian could not allow that to happen, which meant they had to get to Ric first.

The plan eventually was for Jason or Tim to insert themselves into Ric’s life and keep him safe away from the Court.  Acquire the intel they needed to further implicate The Court and figure out a way to reverse the damage they had done to Dick and hopefully fix it.

But then Ric’s cab broke down and Jason had a crisis of conscience. He couldn’t in good faith just leave Ric with a busted cab on the side of the road, so Jason helped and then got invited to have a beer. It was only supposed to be one night; one beer and Jason would disappear and “run into” Ric again at a later time.

Except Jason’s curiosity had got the better of him and he had allowed himself to get attached. All those nights talking with Ric, Jason came away learning new things about himself and  his long lost brother, or rather, a man that looked a lot like his brother, but wasn’t his brother. Jason found that Ric was very easy to talk to. Not that talking to Dick was difficult, but sometimes conversations with Dick would turn into the older man telling Jason what he should have done, rather than just letting Jason talk.

Jason had discovered that he could truly talk to Ric about everything, especially all the shit that had happened to him lately like losing Roy and the fallout with Bruce. To his surprise there was no judgment from Ric, just empathy; no unsolicited advice, just commiseration. It was unsettling yet welcoming as Jason began to realize that this was the exact brotherly relationship he had always wanted with Dick. How fucked up was it that it had to take a bullet to the brain and amnesia to make this happen for both of them.

Before Jason knew it, he and Ric were becoming fast friends. Ric didn’t suspect a thing and everything was going back to the original plan. Only this time, they had an active eye on Ric instead of solely relying on CCTV footage.

All of it was going great until that fucking Talon had attacked them, Jason and Ric had moved together, fought together in sync like no time between them had passed. Like a bullet to the brain hadn’t changed anything between them. Muscle memory had taken over and Ric was not letting up. It had been just like old times all those years ago out in the field as Robin and Nightwing fighting and kicking ass. The victory had shattered when Ric called him ‘Little Wing’.

All the air had left Jason’s lungs as the familiar nickname reached his ears. Ric saw it too as his smile faltered realizing the strange name that had come out of his mouth.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Ric stared wide eyed at Jason, his breaths coming in ragged as the fight had ended. “What just happened? I don’t know why I called you that. Why did I call you that?”

Jason looked around. They were out in the open standing over an unconscious assassin in plain sight. This was not the place to have that conversation.

“Later, not here. It isn’t safe,” Jason said in clipped tones. He grabbed Ric by the shoulder and steered him toward his car. “I promise I’ll explain everything. Get in the car.”

Ric was quiet the whole ride to Jason’s apartment while Jason told him everything; how Jason knew him; how long they had known each other and their connection to Bruce Wayne. But once they got inside, Ric didn’t hold back and Jason couldn’t blame him.

“All that time pretending to be my friend, was it all an act?” Ric snapped.

“No, I wasn’t pretending,” Jason confessed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Was I just another case to solve, another problem to fix?” Ric shouted, gesturing wildly at Jason and pacing the small space of the living room. “Or was it all just… just a means to an end…to get what you wanted; to get him back.”

The accusation sucked, but it wasn’t that far from the truth. Jason glanced over and saw Tim eavesdropping near the hallway. Jason motioned for Tim to come into the room. Tim hesitantly inched his way slowly next to Jason waving nervously at Ric. Ric ignored him.

“No, it wasn’t like that, Ric. I swear,” Jason sighed, putting his hands out in a calming gesture. He looked over at Tim for help.

“He didn’t lie about his name, only about who he was to you, or used to be to you, to Dick,” Tim rambled talking with his hands and almost hitting Jason in the face. He quickly shoved them in his pockets. “Not everything was a lie; he just didn’t provide specific details about how he knew you.”

Ric glared at Tim causing the teenager to look away in shame. Tim quickly shuffled way from Ric and Jason and sat on the couch.

“Really not helping, Tim,” Jason sighed, running his hand down his face in exasperation.

Ric looked up and finally noticed Damian who was edging into the room from the hallway. Ric’s jaw clenched in anger. “You’re working for him!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at Damian. “Did he…did Wayne hire you to find me?”

Damian shrunk under the accusation. He looked close to tears even with a scowl on his face. This was getting worse by the minute. The boy stomped off to the kitchen out of sight from Ric.

“Bruce didn’t send us. We’re not doing this for him,” Jason scoffed. “Fuck that. We’re doing this for us, for you. You belong with us, not here on your own.”

Ric crossed his arms in defiance. “I’ve been doing just fine on my own before you guys came along and fucked things up.”

“Bullshit!” Jason argued, leveling a look at Ric. “You’re waking up in strange houses, drinking all the time to numb the pain and dull your memory from all the nightmares. I’ve seen it. I’ve heard it from your own mouth what those nightmares do to you. Your memories are coming back and you're scared shitless.”

“Fuck off!” Ric bellowed, stalking away from Jason toward the dining room table. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Jason had hit a nerve. He glanced at Tim and hoped he saw it too. Tim nodded and headed to the desk grabbing a thick file folder from the top drawer.

“You have to believe us when we tell you that you’ve been played by the Court of Owls this whole time,” Tim interjected, handing Ric a thick file folder. “They took your memories of us with a regimen of drugs and deep hypnosis. They knew that taking away your memories of us would make it easier to groom you into their Talon. So if anyone lied to you, it was them, starting with Dr Haas.”

Ric haphazardly flipped through the documents in the file and then set it down on the table in front of him. He jammed the heels of his hands in his eyes. “I can’t. I can’t do this right now.” He crossed his arms angrily and turned to Jason, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I thought you were my friend, but you lied to me.”

“I -” Jason started, but shook his head in frustration.

But that was just it; Jason had never lied to him at least not about anything they had talked about at The Prodigal. He may have omitted names in their discussions as well as certain details concerning their shared history, but Jason was truthful about everything else. All of their conversations were based in truth. Jason made sure he had never lied to him, not like Dick had done all those years ago while he was ‘dead’. It still pissed Jason off whenever he had thought about it.

“You know, I didn’t have to say yes to that beer, but I did and let’s just say a part of me was curious to see you.” Jason shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe I wanted to see if you remembered me, but I didn’t need you to remember. In all honesty I didn’t want you to remember so imagine my immense relief when I met you and you didn’t have a clue who I was. I was just a random stranger to you.”

Jason walked over to the table positioning himself next to Ric who was still standing in front of the table staring daggers at the folder. Jason leaned against the table and tilted his head to get Ric to look at him.

“And every time we sat down and had a beer, all the baggage and history of all the horrible shit I had done in the past was not rubbed back in my face by the guy who had my brother’s face,” Jason continued. “The ‘Golden boy’ was gone and in his place was this guy, my friend who never offered a lick of advice to me but instead just listened to my bullshit without judgment. I got to do the same in return for him with no agenda of jogging memories. It was perfect.

“So yeah, I’ll admit that I took advantage of a bad situation. I bent the truth a bit and left out certain details. But, I never lied to you, not like you lied to us all those years ago.”

Ric’s head snapped up at Jason’s last sentence. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“Jason, low blow. Now’s not the time for this discussion!” Tim cut in standing between Jason and Ric.

Jason narrowed his eyes at Tim and crossed his arms. Tim opened his mouth to protest, but decided against it. Instead he shook his head and walked away leaning against the wall. Jason took a deep breath and refocused his attention back onto Ric.

“Once upon time you faked your own death and didn’t even let us in on the secret.” Jason said coldly. “For months we thought you were dead. Don’t remember that do you, Dickie? Well it sucked.”

Ric rubbed his right cheek and returned his focus to the contents on the table.

“You said your lie was to protect us, but it was really to protect you, to protect Bruce, to protect the mission. You put the mission ahead of us, because that was what we had been taught. It’s how he raised us in this life.”

Jason slumped in the chair next to Ric and caught a quick glimpse of him biting his lip. Jason closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he continued.

“And you know what, as much as it sucked, being lied to by you and believing that you were dead, I get it now. I get why you had to lie and carry that secret. So yeah, I kept who I was from you and I put ‘this mission’ ahead of your feelings, but I did it because you’re a Rob-.” Jason stopped to clear his throat. “…because you’re our brother. I did it because that’s exactly what Dick did for us.”

“I’m not him anymore. I-I don’t…” Ric shook his head, gesturing at an old picture of Dick from the file folder. “I –I really don’t know who I am right now.”

Jason closed the file folder and pushed it out from Ric’s reach.

“I know who you are. You’re my friend, Ric and like I told you at the bar, you’re still the same guy I met on the side of the road with a broken down cab,” Jason reaffirmed. “You’re still the same guy I have beers with and play pool. And you’re right. You’re not Dick Grayson, but that’s not gonna stop us from trying to protect you from yourself and every other motherfucker lining up to take advantage of an amnesic former vigilante.”

“How do I know I can trust you guys?” Ric challenged, crossing his arms and leveling a look at Jason.

“You don’t, but just hear us out,” Jason said, getting up and pulling out a chair for Ric. “If you don’t like what you hear you can leave. We won’t stop you.”

Ric furrowed his brow at Jason for a split second but sat in the chair keeping his arms crossed.

“Excuse us for a second,” Tim said as he steered Jason by his sleeve into the kitchen out of earshot from Ric.

“What are you doing?” Tim whispered loudly as he kept his grip on Jason’s sleeve.” We can’t just let him leave.”

“We can’t force him to stay.” Jason retorted, yanking his arm out of Tim’s grip.

“The hell we can’t.” Tim argued. “Damian and I worked too hard on this to give up now.”

“Do you think I want to let him leave? You don’t think I want to tie him to a chair and make him stay? We can’t force him to stay, otherwise he’ll take off and then what?” Jason snapped. “Once he hears everything we have to tell him, he isn’t going anywhere.”

“You better know what you’re doing, Todd.” Damian said, glaring at Jason as he opened the cupboard to retrieve the box of tea bags.

“I do. Stay in the kitchen, understood.” Jason instructed, putting his hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Tim and I will handle this.”

Damian nodded, placing a teabag into the mug and pouring hot water into it.  

Jason and Tim made their way back into the living room to talk to Ric. Jason’s palms started to sweat at the thought of getting this all wrong and Ric storming out of the apartment in anger. Jason was already taking a risk by giving Ric permission to leave if he didn’t like what they had to say. But Jason had to remember that they weren’t showing Ric video footage of his shooting, nor were they force-feeding him memories of Dick Grayson and his old life. They were simply explaining their presence in Bludhaven and showing Ric evidence of him being duped by The Court.

Tim kept wringing his hands despite the determined look on his face.

“This is gonna work, Tim,” Jason reassured squeezing Tim’s shoulder. “Like you said, you and Damian worked too damn hard collecting evidence and research. He’ll believe us.”

Tim nodded, swallowing thickly.

He watched as Ric fought to sit still in the chair. Ric uncrossed his arms and leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs. He ran a hand up and down his neck in exhaustion before massaging his temples. He then straightened up, crossed his arms again, and started bouncing his knee up and down so fast Jason was surprised Ric’s calf wasn’t burning. He looked like a spring ready to snap and hightail it out of the apartment. Finally Ric got up from the chair to pace the space of the living room. Jason knew he wouldn’t last long sitting still.

“We were only going to keep an eye on you and not interact until absolutely necessary,” Jason explained entering the living room from the kitchen.

Ric continued to walk around the apartment. He looked like he was listening, the tension in his shoulders was still present, and Jason could also see the muscles working in Ric’s jaw. Jason glanced at Tim to take over.

“We hadn’t planned on ever really talking to you…” Tim continued clearing his throat. “…not this soon at least. Our main intention was just keeping you safe, because you’re important to us.”

Ric finally stopped pacing and turned around to face Tim.

“I don’t know you,” Ric said flatly. “I barely know Jason.”

Tim’s shoulders sagged in defeat at Ric’s words and Jason could see the muscles in Tim’s jaw clenching. Jason knew the kid was fighting back tears. Jason walked over to Tim blocking his view of Ric and gave him a one armed hug. It wasn’t a Dick Grayson hug, but it would do in a pinch.

“Kid, you alright?” Jason quietly asked crouching at Tim’s level to get him to look at him.

“I will be,” Tim sniffed and took a deep breath. He plastered on a fake smile that did not reach his eyes and returned his attention to Ric.

“I know you don’t know me, but you trust Jason and I know a part of you wants to trust me too,” Tim reasoned, leveling a look at Ric. “Deep down your gut is telling you that we are important to you too, isn’t it?”

Jason watched as Ric’s shoulders slumped and his anger deflating as Tim’s words sunk in.

Ric stalked over to the table toward the file folder and opened it. He thumbed through it slowly and thoroughly.  Jason and Tim watched as Ric took in all the evidence Tim and Damian had collected over the last few weeks. Photos, notes, detailed documents of his past medications and prescriptions and their intended effects on the nervous system, particularly his. Ric sunk into the nearest chair as he held aloft a sketch of his neurologist, Dr Haas.

“This is all so fucked up,” Ric turned to give them both his full attention still holding the picture of Dr Haas. “So what you’re saying here, what these documents are saying is that I was drugged and hypnotized with suggestive thoughts to alter my memories so that I could be lured into an old secret society called “The Court of Owls’?”

“Sounds far-fetched but it’s on par with their reputation,” Jason added.

“Yes, you are the key to them continuing their work,” Tim clarified, pointing out certain photos of the Court to Ric. “You are who they refer to as the ‘The Gray Son of Gotham’. Their intention was to raise you into taking over your great-grandfather’s position, to be their Talon, basically their enforcer.

Tim pulled out a chair and sat next to Ric.

“We wanted to get close, but not so close that we would give ourselves away to you.” Tim continued, talking nervously with his hands. “That all backfired when Jason ‘met’ you sooner than we had intended. Still, the meet proved to have been beneficial because now we had an active eye on you.”

“So you were spying on me?” Ric quipped. “Were you also wearing an earpiece?”

“No,” Jason retorted, appalled that Ric would even suggest such a thing.

“Jason wouldn’t wear one,” Tim replied nonchalantly.

“Shut up, Tim.” Jason said through gritted teeth.

Jason turned to Ric. “Everything I ever said to you was never made up or fabricated. Again, I never lied to you. I swear. I just omitted names and certain details. Everything you told me, I never shared outside the bar. I promise.”

“Ric, are your memories coming back?” Tim asked.

Ric cringed at the question, his shoulders inching toward his ears. He swallowed thickly and looked over at Jason. Jason gave him an encouraging nod to answer the question.

“Yes, I think so,” Ric answered, looking down at the file folder and thumbing through the photos. “Mostly in dreams, but tonight was the first time I remembered something while I was awake. I think the muscle memory of fighting that Talon with Jason triggered something.”

“How so?” Tim probed.

“I called Jason ‘Little Wing’. At the time I didn’t know why I said it,” Ric explained. “It just came out as the most natural thing to say to him, but in the car I remembered that I used to call you that when you were younger?”

“When we had fought together as Robin and Nightwing,” Jason finished. “I hated the nickname at first, but I learned to like it later on. You still call me that now even if I’m not so ‘little’ anymore.”

Ric nodded and rested his chin in his hand and slowly scrutinized every piece of paper in the file folder with his free hand. He didn’t say a word the whole time. His brow furrowed in thought as he read page after page of notes. Ric’s silence was starting to unnerve Jason. He was still always so used to Dick being chatty regardless of his emotions. It was what made him annoying and endearing all at the same time. Jason had to remind himself that Ric wasn’t Dick. Maybe silence was how Ric liked to process things.

“I don’t want to go back to Gotham,” Ric said breaking the silence. “I’m not ready to see – I don’t want to see Bruce just yet.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going back there for a while,” Tim assured. “It really isn’t safe to go there. We’re going to lay low here for the time being. You can stay here until we clear this mess with The Court.”

“It’s just that everyone who says that they know me keeps wanting me to be someone I can’t remember and I can’t handle it right now if he…”

“You don’t need to be anyone other than yourself, Ric. It’s okay. No one here is going to tell you how you should or shouldn’t be living your life.” Jason said the last sentence louder so it carried over to the kitchen. “Right?”

“Correct,” Damian answered from the kitchen.

“We’re still interested in getting to know you. Will you give us a second chance, please?” Tim asked. “We won’t push an old life you can’t remember down your throat.”

Just as Ric was going to answer Tim he stopped and sniffed the air. “What’s that smell? Is the old man here?”

“Alfred? No, it’s just the kid making tea,” Jason replied, his mouth going suddenly dry.

The smell wasn’t just from any ordinary tea. The scent was of home and comfort that brought with it memories of simpler times when a cup of tea fixed everything. The rich aroma of Earl Grey tea filled the living room and flooded Jason with memories of sad times turned to happiness with a simple cup of tea with Alfred. Jason almost couldn’t take it. Tim stared at him with wide eyes. Ric looked lost in a memory triggered by the strong scent of bergamot. It was Alfred’s comfort tea. At least that is what Dick had named it all those years ago when they had tried to coax Jason out of a bad mood. It was the type of tea Alfred had made on bad days that contained just enough caffeine to counteract anything from crying jags to bad moods. It was the tea he’d make in the special Robin’s Egg blue teapot with matching cups. It was Alfred’s way of comforting them the only way he knew how, with a cup of tea and a listening ear.

Jason didn’t even know he had Earl Grey tea in the apartment. Alfred must have stocked his pantry with it the last time he was here and now Damian had found it.

Damian walked into the room handing a steaming mug to Ric. “Drink this. It –.”

“–will make you feel better,” Ric finished. “He – he used to say that to me on bad days while he handed me a cup of Earl Grey tea.”

Damian sat in the empty chair next to Ric, cradling his own cup of tea. “He said it to all of us, Richard.”

Silence filled the apartment as Ric and Damian drank their tea. Tim gathered the scattered contents of the file and placed them back into the folder. Jason made his way into the kitchen to collect himself. He slumped against the kitchen counter and took a deep breath.

The evening’s events replayed themselves in his mind’s eye. Jason shook his head as he thought about what they could have lost tonight. They got lucky that Ric hadn’t bolted out of the apartment and disappeared. Tim had known that playing to Ric’s instincts would pay off. Jason had known that if he stated his case and showed the evidence, the detective buried inside of Ric would wake up and believe them. It had been a gamble, but it paid off. Jason rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. Exhaustion was starting to settle into his bones.

“Hey, you okay, you’ve been in here a while,” Tim asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“I’m fine. What are they doing now?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“They finished their tea and now Damian is trying to get Ric to play ‘Cheese Vikings’.”

“Is it working?”

“I think Ric is warming up to him. They’re no longer scowling at each other, so that’s progress.”

Jason nodded.

“What’s wrong, Jason?” Tim asked, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “You did it. You brought him back to us.”

He knew he should be happy, relieved that all four of them were finally under the same roof. But Jason couldn’t help but feel like he was slowly losing his friend. He didn’t go into this to just get Dick back, even if that is what he had told Tim and Damian at the start. He went into this to also keep Dick safe. But then he met Ric and they had gotten to know each other, which is when everything got complicated. There was always the possibility of Ric getting his memories back, that was a given; and with getting those memories back there was the possibility of Jason losing his friend. Jason just thought he’d have more time, but then that Talon fucker attacked them and Ric had called him ‘Little Wing’, and all bets were off.

Was it even possible at this point to have his brother back and still keep his friend? Jason didn’t know.

Jason grabbed two beers from the fridge. He opened one and took a swig.

“I’m happy he’s safe now. It’s just been a long night.”

Jason wasn’t going to bother explaining his apprehension to Tim. The kid was finally smiling after months of wearing a perpetual scowl to match Damian. There was no doubt Tim was happy that Ric decided to stay with them, and he should be happy. He and Damian worked damn hard collecting and curating all that evidence just to prove to their brother that he had been duped by the very people that were supposed to be helping him.

“You’re lying.”

Jason glared at him. “Just drop it.”

Both of them made it out of the kitchen and into the living room with Ric and Damian. Ric now had a controller and seemed to be doing an okay job navigating the game.

Jason handed the unopened beer to Ric and sat in the armchair next to the couch.

Ric handed the controller back to Damian to open his beer and took a drink.

“You know, I’m still a little mad at you,” Ric groused with no heat in his voice.

Jason smirked. “I know, but you’ll get over it.”

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Hark the Angels sing; It’s MORE Random Mary Grayson Headcanons!!.....I have apparently lost control of myself but hey these are fun XD 

Some of these are ones that focus on what can possibly fit into proper DCU canon while some are from AUs I have in mind (prominently, ‘What if the Flying Graysons all survived yet their son still became a Robin and eventually Nightwing?’ or ‘What if Mary was resurrected as a Talon for the Court of Owls yet was her personality more or less got brought back to normal?’)  

 I appreciate any to all feedback from replies to likes, but ESPECIALLY Reblogs  and more so, Reblogs with additional headcanons 

Either way, enjoy this nonsense 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU)  Mary is perhaps one of the very few people alongside Batman, Red Arrow, and Lian Harper who can actually eat Green Arrow’s infamous chili recipe. Not even her husband can do it, with the latter having to chug two whole gallons of milk to soothe the burns. 

- One of her favorite hobbies whenever not practicing on trapeze is reciting and acting out Shakespeare plays. Her favorites being Romeo & Juliet, King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Macbeth. Most of the time, John and her often love playing the final scene in Romeo and Juliet as the titular characters respectfully. Apparently Mary has a hidden natural skill of playing dead so well it looks convincing to anyone who doesn’t know better. 

- (Talon!Mary AU) Upon regaining her memories and most of her personality back, one of the first things Mary asks is naturally of who was it that raised her son while she was gone, especially since this person was apparently the one that taught Dick into honing his acrobatic skills into crime fighting. When learning it was Gotham based billionaire Bruce Wayne, Mary made a briefest of stops to Wayne Manor to confront him about it. On the one hand, as a mother, she was all too commonly concerned and a bit baffled about this acquaintance of her husband and her being the one to do this for Dick without their permission. On the other, had it not been for Bruce as Alfred rightfully points out, Dick’s fate could’ve been far worse given the care system Gotham had him or even the Court of Owls double crossing their deal with her and making Dick a Talon anyways. Also, Bruce explained indeed it was ultimately Dick’s decision to swear an oath to crime fighting and his choice to avenge what happened to John and her, finding the thugs responsible for it. She acknowledges this and rather than have any animosity, Mary thanks Bruce for doing what he can and helping her son becoming the young man he is nowadays, a leader of the Titans, defender of Bludhaven and generally probably her greatest wish, a good person int he end. She declines Bruce’s offer to stay in either Gotham or Bludhaven but does say if a Crisis get too much for him and the Batfamily to handle on their own, she’ll more than willing to lend a hand. Such irony, an owl being a friend with a bat. 

- Being a Catholic, Mary often prays the Rosary prayer every Sunday at night before bed and especially during Holy Week. Dick carries on this tradition when moving into Wayne Manor and even nowadays in either his Bludhaven apartment or his room in Titans Tower since that’s what his Mother taught him. 

- Mary firmly understands the general fear of clowns some people tend to get. She firmly understands of the numerous unfortunate implications that come with the bright make up, goofy antics and general oddness clowns exhibit when being approached by casual folks. But thankfully, she definitely knows plenty of good clowns that are among her closest friends at Haly’s Circus and can say for certain they are the norms, not this Joker and his partner Harley Quinn everyone keeps paying attention to instead. Mary generally dislikes Joker and Harley and for good darn reasons.  

- She designed almost all of the Flying Graysons uniforms for each and every one of their tours and shows. They usually depend on the types of performances they perform for the night on their tour maps, helpfully categorized by John with colored pins on said maps. If the show’s a blue pin (safest of the stunts, safety nets set up), Mary and her family are wearing an all blue outfit with disco-esque collars and bird motifs (New 52 Nightwing origin ones); on red pins (larger crowds,bolder stunts yet safety nets still set) an green sleeveless bodysuit with a giant yellow stylized G on the torso (All Star Batman and Robin and Nightwing [2018-] Annual #2); and finally for Black Pins (Largest of crowds, most bold of stunts, no safety nets, example being Gotham) a green scaly leotard with a red tunic, green pixie boots and a pre show yellow cape. Said tunics having a black and yellow letter on the right side meaning their first names for example ‘M’ for Mary on hers and an ‘R’ for Richard, or as she calls it, ‘Robin’.  

- During tours in Japan, Mary always insists to bring with them before they leave an entire week’s worth of the dish called Katsudon, beef or pork cutlet on top of rice along with other ingredients. It’s basically a buffet dinner in one bowl.  

- In terms of music, Mary likes rock n roll in almost all of its subgenres. What she listens too depends on her mood at the time of the day. For instance when cleaning their trailer on bright sunny day, The Beatles are likely being blasted on her record speakers. Conversely on rainy nights with the trailer to herself and in the mood for something a bit heavier, Black Sabbath and Metallica are what’s pumping out in her headphones, performing air guitar like crazy without noticing John or Dick walking in to see that, much to their amusement. Dick actually bought those same songs his mother plays on his phones when moving to Wayne Manor. Bruce actually liked a lot of the stuff Dick played, in particular Black Sabbath......except for any songs by the Ramones, the Misfits or any hardcore punk rock. Bruce just wasn’t a fan. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary and John, after the events of the Circus and settling into a decent apartment in Gotham with Mr Wayne as their landlord, take jobs at a nearby fitness center. In particular, they are trapeze teachers for anyone willing to give the ropes a try. No matter the students they get, both Graysons are given the opportunity to impart their skills and their amazing acrobatic prowess to a new generation beyond their son. It probably helps that since they’re at said fitness center until it’s closing hours, they arrive home at almost the same time their son barely comes back from his Robin patrols. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary ADORES her grandchildren Mar’i and Jake. She is almost THE go-to babysitter for them whenever her son and his wife Kory are away on a very intense Titans and/or Bludhaven mission. Though it must be said, watching over two Tamaranean-Human hybrids proves no easy task since either one or both of the two rascals can accidentally do some damage to the apartment with their starbolts or enhanced strength when not carefully. Perhaps the trickiest period was when Mar’i was barely coming out of her toddler phase but still had their stubborn temper that can ignite said starbolts. Thankfully as Mar’i got older and her baby brother Jake proved on being far more relaxed and chill than his older sister at his age, watching over the two of them became far easier. Whenever, the three interact in small talk, they all speak primarily in lovari Romani Chib. Sometimes when reading them Tamaranean bedtime stories, the kids help with Mary’s Tamaranean since she’s always curious to learn new languages. More often than not, whenever getting a call for Dick to help watch Mar’i and Jake,the first thing she does almost immediately is check their mustard supply given what her grandchildren drink. Overall, Mar’i and Jake are a joy when they visit Mary and John and she can’t be any happier than that.