Under The Shadows

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/54633559.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: Gen
Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &
Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members &
Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd,
Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd
Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members (DCU), Tim Drake,
Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne
Additional Tags: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has Issues, Lazarus Pit
Madness (DCU), Lazarus Pit Side Effects (DCU), Hurt Dick Grayson,
Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs
A Hug, Or Will By The Time I'm Through With Them, Emotional
Manipulation, Emotional Hurt, Suicide Attempt, Psychological Torture,
I'll Care About Canon When DC Does, Canon What Canon, Jason Todd
is Not Red Hood, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Protective
Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson Misses Jason Todd, Dick Grayson Loves
His Family, Dick Grayson Has Eldest Daughter Syndrome, Good Sibling
Dick Grayson, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Canon-Typical
Violence, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Jason Todd Loves Dick
Grayson, deep down, Dick Grayson Loves Jason Todd, Hallucinations,
Suicidal Thoughts, Bruce Wayne's No-Killing Rule, Tim Drake Has
Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Tim Drake, Feral Tim
Drake
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2024-03-21 Completed: 2024-04-05 Words: 27,000 Chapters:
8/8
 Under The Shadows
by SummerKnight717

Summary

Jason Todd returns to Gotham. He is not okay, and he is only too aware of it. He wants
revenge. On the clown who killed him. On the family who was not there to save him. It will
be - it should be - only the guilty who should suffer. Not the new little Bird. Not Gotham.
Only the pair who should have been there.

But this is Gotham. Mind Games have a way of going horribly wrong. Jason might well find
himself regretting just how effective his revenge has turned out to be.

Notes

* I wasn't sure if I could add Inspired By, given the absolute difference in tone between that
fic and this, but I got the idea from it as well as the Tumblr prompt. So, linking it :)

Warning: Suicide Attempt.

Written for Tumblr Prompt https://www.tumblr.com/ghost-

bxrd/745258819136978944/prompt-warning-suicide-attempt-been-on-a

Inspired by Grave Pretender by Ghxst_Bird

 Set The Stage
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason Todd is not okay.

He isn’t sure what exactly is the problem, the diagnosis if someone dragged him to…To
whoever the hell is qualified to deal with crap like this.

Maybe it is the Pit Madness the League talks so much about.

Maybe it is residual brain damage that the Pit didn’t quite manage to heal or didn’t bother to.

Or, hell, it might just be plain old PTSD.

Anyone who got beaten to death in a warehouse by a psychotic clown and then had to claw
his way out of the grave? Even Talia would grant him the right for a bit of PTSD reaction to
that.

Whatever. He isn’t too bothered about the exact reason right now, not when he is still trying
to get a lock on the effects.

Whatever the reason, Jason Todd is not okay. And he is hundred percent aware of that.

If said awareness slips at any moment, all he needs to do is to get a look at his journal.

Jason has always been meticulous.

That was one of the things that had surprised Batman back then – Jason had immediately
assumed it was because they stereotyped him as a dumb street rat, at least till he encountered
the original Robin. Dick ‘My ADHD has ADHD’ Grayson. No wonder Batman was shocked
to see his new Robin kept well indexed plans.

(Yes, maybe Jason does have a history of jumping to conclusions – especially when said
conclusions are that everyone will default to believing the worst of him)

Well. These plans.

A lot of the time Jason wants to tear them to pieces, but he knows he can’t. he might forget,
again. The Green has a way of making him forget. (What else has he forgotten…how much
has he forgotten…)

He looks over his own plans to remind him how bad it could go if he slipped.

The plans…
Take over as Crime Lord. Detailed plans for keeping Gotham safer than Batman did – by
taking over crime in general.

Taking over the weapons trade. The drug trade.

The drug trade.

That is the part that makes him want to tear the pages the most, even if there are objectively
far worse things in the plans.

Take his cut from the drug trade.

The Green might have taken way too much of his Robin years, but it has left everything
preceding.

It has left his mom’s (yes, she was his mom, not that bitch Sheila) vacant eyes, the
trackmarks on her skin, the dealer’s faux-affable smile as he promised her this one was light,
this one wouldn’t hook her quite so bad, it wouldn’t be worse than her prescribed meds.

It has left the images of her stumbling around the apartment, even in the haze trying to put
together lunch for him to take to school, forgetting he has stopped going months ago.

It has left that final image, her wasted form on the couch, arm hanging limply off it, cold
skin, so pale, so…

Jason shudders. His plans included taking his cut from fucking drug deals. Drug deals. With
some conscience smoothing tripe about not letting anyone sell to kids.

And the other plans, his so-called freaking master plan for taking over the underworld of
Gotham…

Oh, perfect, Jason. Abso-fucking-lutely perfect. Why don’t you just start a nice little gang
war.

Why don’t you just stroll into the middle of a precarious balance and start throwing around
your weight.

Heads in duffle bags, delivered straight to the cops.

How dramatic. How glorious. Exactly what Gotham needs, right? Exactly what the kids in
Crime Alley needs. You’ll definitely be able to protect the kids that way.

It isn’t like anyone else would start shooting back, right? It isn’t like anyone will get caught
in the crossfire. It isn’t like other duffle bags would start showing up soon. Maybe not to the
cops, straight, but to the others.

He has been in the streets. He knows how it goes, when some bastards decide they want to
shoot it out for territory.
 He remembers nine year old Cray, lying where he fell, eyes still wide open in shock, caught
by a bullet meant for someone on one or the other side of the shooting war. Nine year old
Cray who hadn’t been fast enough to get out of the way.

His body had just lain there, getting hit by random shots, convulsing each time even after it
should long have been dead, likely shaking just with the impact of bullets. It had just lain
there till the shootout was over and the fighters ran back into their own territories.

He remembers Annie, one of the working girls who used to slip him a sandwich or two
whenever she could afford, carved into bleeding pieces and left in front of a mob run
restaurant as a warning to the group that ‘owned’ her.

Annie with blond wavy hair and a shy smile so different from the one she flashed her
customers. Annie, whose sister took her place in the same corner the next night, because
there were still two younger kids at home and a mother long gone senile.

He knows what the casualty count of gang wars are, and not even half of it are people who
are choosing to fight.

He knows who pays the price when crime lords want to get into a dominance contest, even
one that isn’t to death.

Was the him who wrote those plans just willing to ignore it all? Convinced that by some
magic he will be immune to the laws of reality, that he can simply waltz in there and make
his pretty little script work?

Or did he just assume some deaths were acceptable damage, collateral damage for the
greater good?

Was the other him that far gone? Is the other him still in there? Jason does not want to think
about it. He doesn’t like the other him. At all.

And the part of the plan for the kid, the new Robin… God, what was he thinking of, when he
cooked that up?

Of course, on the surface, the plan isn’t too bad. Get into Titans’ Tower, scare the kid, maybe
rough him up a little, get him to quit being Robin.

Perfectly reasonable – if you are a brain dead sociopath.

See, Jason might be brain damaged, but he knows the kind of kids who become Robins. And
he has heard enough about the kid’s career.

No Robin is going to shed the uniform because some nutcase beat them up and threatened
them. That is, like, every other Tuesday for Robin.

No, he will never get the kid to quit that way.

And… Well. Jason doesn’t trust himself around the kid. The Green… The Green is always
too close by when he thinks about the kid.
About the Replacement.

That is what he has called him in the ‘plan’, when he wrote it down. Not the name, not ‘kid’,
not ‘Robin’. Replacement. Like that was the only detailed Green!him could focus on.

No. If he went to the Tower like that, if he ended up face to face with the kid like that…

Just ‘scaring’ won’t be enough, especially given how hard a Robin would be to scare.

And he won’t stop at ‘roughing him up a little’. He won’t be able to stop. It has happened
before, during League trainings.

Jason has had the Green drain from his vision and leave him standing amid the broken
bodies of his sparring partners while Talia or Ra’s looked on in admiration tinged with
something less decipherable.

No. He can’t get close to the kid. He can’t let himself get close to the kid like that.

Yeah, he is still furious at yet another kid in Robin colours, a new Robin before the last one’s
body had time to cool, but that isn’t on the kid.

Probably just another starry-eyed kid struck by the ‘magic’ Robin is supposed to have (Jason
has seen real magic now, and none of it is Robin-Pretty, Robin-Bright).

Another good little soldier for Batman’s crusade.

Jason is furious. He has a right to be furious. But that isn’t on the kid.

That’s on him. On Batman.

And on the original Boy Wonder. On Dick Grayson, who seems to have adopted this Robin
as his little pet, this one good enough for him unlike the street rat.

They are the ones he needs to go for. Not the kid. Not Gotham.

“No collateral damage” Jason tells himself, glaring into the green tinted eyes he can see in the
mirror. “No collateral damage. No more dead Robins.”

He has the plan. The new plan, for his revenge.

Focus on them. On the Bats. The Bat and his golden bird. No one else involved. No one else
should be involved.

This is between him and them. Make them face what they did. Make them face what they are
doing. Make them admit it.

Jason doesn’t really trust the way the Green pulses behind his eyes when he thinks of it, but
at least it isn’t as bad as the plans written down in the journal.

And… Well, he does need a plan, okay? He has to do something. And fast. If he doesn’t…
Well, Jason is not okay. Unless he does something to quiet the Green… He may fall back on
his earlier plans.

And if he does, he will never be able to come back from it. Not all the way. Ever.

So. So it’s time. So he is going back. Back to Gotham.

“Ready or not” he smiles, and doesn’t like the look of that smile in the mirror “here I come.”

………………………………………..

He has planned this out.

He has actually enjoyed planning this out. Hell, maybe he can make this a back-from-the-
grave present to his dear dad and big brother, right?

After all, this is the kind of games they play so often. With one Rogue or the other. Should be
fun for all. Jason looks at himself in the mirror once more.

Talia, ever ready for any antic that will make life chaotic for her ‘beloved’ ex, has provided
him with sufficient funds. Long enough for his purpose, anyway.

After that… Well. He is used to taking care of himself. And he is far better suited to do that
now than he was before.

The date. Good.

Pretty close to… Pretty close to it.

To the funeral. The one Dick didn’t even bother to attend

. If this goes the way he wants, the way he has planned it out, the grand finale should take
place on the day it ended.

The day… Sheila Hayward, the crowbar, the red digits counting down… Jason clenches his
fists, barely feeling the nails dig into his palm.

Stop. It is over. You are here.

Do they remember the anniversary? Or has that been tossed aside too, once they put a new
kid in the suit? Do they pretend the second Robin was a bad memory…

Stop. The Green likes it when he thinks this way. He can’t let it take over. Not here. Not now.

Okay. First step. Scout out the ground.

Talia has given him the dossier on Bats. The kid seems to be fitting in perfectly, a nice happy
little family. Would be a pity if something happened to it.

Stop. The kid has nothing to do with what happened to you.

Remember? No collateral damage. No dead robins. Focus on the pair you want. The ones
who were there. Who should have been there.

What was he thinking about…Yeah. Scout out the ground.

………………………………

The overgrown rodent was right in one thing. No plan survives contact with reality.

Scouting out the ground, as he out it, already reveals to Jason the major obstacle to his plan.

He isn’t there.

Bruce Wayne is not in the city. Away on a vacation, apparently. A little bit of deeper scouting
reveals what he wants to know.

Batman is not on the planet. Not on the freaking planet.

A Justice League mission. Away on a Justice League mission.

Of course, it hasn’t been officially confirmed, no one is dumb enough to officially confirm
when the ‘heroes’ are out of reach, but verification is not hard to obtain. Jason has to do
hardly any hacking at all.

“He’s not here.”

Deep breaths. Stay calm, stay grounded. You knew this could happen.

Yeah, he knew. But the green haze stealing over his brain doesn’t know. Or pretends not to
know. He planned this out. He doesn’t want to postpone.

He is pretty sure he can’t afford to postpone. He needs to do this. Needs to get some sort of
closure to quiet his screaming brain.

Batman is away in space, doing hero things with his hero friends.

Joker is laughing at the world from his cosy little cell in Arkham, till he inevitably breaks out
yet again.

Of course, Jason is reasonably sure he can get into Arkham, grab the Joker… That part of the
written plan, that he’s okay with. Maybe he will still have that as the climax.

But to do that, he needs Bruce. Without the big bad bat around, it just won’t play out right.

So. Postpone the Joker business. He needs to put Plan B into action. Keep the Joker to play
with the Bat. The rest of it, though…

Nightwing is here, he can see as he scrolls through.

Nightwing is back, filling in for the bat. Playing babysitter to the little bird, too, no doubt.
Maybe they are keeping a closer eye on this one.
Jason knows he shouldn’t feel quite as much rage at the idea as he does.

After all, isn’t that what he wants? For them to know it isn’t right to let the little birds out
there alone, where anyone can hunt…

Isn’t it what he wants, for them to keep the Robin safe?

No more Robin. No one can keep a Robin safe. So there should be no more Robins.

Maybe just as well that he gets to play with Nightwing first.

The Big Bird is going to be easier to convince than the Bat, and by the look of it the baby
bird cares more about what his big brother thinks than what Batman does. Can’t really blame
the kid there.

Okay. So stay calm. Stick to the plan.

………………………………………….

He watches Nightwing for a bit.

Watches him fly across the skyline. Sees the laughter in his face, in his eyes.

Dick has never really lost Robin.

He may have changed the name, changed the suit, got out of Batman’s shadow. But the Robin
magic, the one Jason is no longer childish enough to believe in, Dick manages to hold onto it.

He watches him drop down beside the group of kids clearly expecting him, handing out the
clearly promised candy bars and some other stuff, sitting cross legged on the ground beside
them to chat.

He doesn’t try to persuade them about foster care, doesn’t try to convince them, just stays and
chats. Adding little tips about which places would be the safest, where Ivy is camping.

Just stuff. What he says is less important than being seen talking to them.

Making it clear to whoever may be out there that Nightwing is keeping an eye on the kids.
That they aren’t easy pickings. That if one of them vanishes, someone will come looking.

Jason was the one who started doing it, as Robin. He knew the difference it made out here if
people in the streets knew someone was watching you, maybe watching out for you. The
mere hint of a safety net might well be the difference between life and death.

Apparently, Nightwing has kept up the tradition.

Jason watches from where he is hidden, and glares. He sees the easy laugh, the relaxed
posture, the deliberate posture that announces safe-trustworthy-protector.
Nightwing, the hero, will stay and play big brother to a bunch of random kids. Dick Grayson
couldn’t be bothered to do that with his actual brother. (Couldn’t he? Or did the Green steal
those memories, too?)

……………………………………

He schedules the first call for 4.35 A.M. He knows Nightwing’s schedule.

Right now, the hero would be just getting comfortable in sleep after returning from patrol.
Just starting to dream.

The phone will startle him out of sleep. Does Dick still wear those superhero pyjamas to bed?

Jason prepares himself as a sleepy voice on the other side answers “Hello? Who’s-“

“Dick?” Jason pitches his voice higher, the way it was back then, just past cracking, but even
then slipping back when he was scared, like when… “Dick? Big Bird?”

He recognises the voice. That is evident in the way all trace of sleepiness vanishes. “Who…
Who’s this?”

Ah, the fearless Nightwing is shaken?

Jason smiles, but makes sure no trace of the smile finds its way into his voice. “Dick, are you
there? Are you… You picked up!”

“I… Who…”

“It’s me!” Jason lets his voice go even higher pitched than normal, cracking a bit. “Me,
please, please, Dick, you gotta come get me, you gotta…”

He throws in a sob there, making his breath hitch.

“Where, Little Wing?”

That nickname. That nickname. Jason almost drops the phone and the act.

Does… Does Dick call the Replacement that? Did he lose that name too? Is that why Dick is
so worked up, he thinks it is his new Robin calling?

“Little Wing?” there is clear desperation in Dick’s voice. “Can you hear me? Please, please
say something. Are you there?”

“Come get me” Jason pleads, making his voice as close to full on blubbering he can get
without going incoherent “Come get me, Dick, the countdown… I can’t stop it, I tried, I
swear I tried, I’m too dizzy, please…”

“Jay?”
 Oh, so it is not meant for his baby bird. Jason was expecting a little more disbelief, a little
rage at first for whoever is imitating a fallen Robin, if he even recognised the voice.

Probably Dickhead is still half asleep and/or convinced he is dreaming. Well. Let’s see if we
can turn this little dream into a nightmare.

“Help me!” Jason makes his voice rise into a half strangled scream. “Help me, please, please,
I didn’t mean to…It hurts…it hurts so bad, Dick…”

“Jay!” Now Dick is screaming. If he is in the Titans Tower, the rest of them will be rushing
in to check on their darling leader. “Jay, where are you, Little Wing, please, just tell me, I’ll
come get you-“

“The countdown… It’s almost to zero, Dick, please, please come get me, call Wally or Kori
or… Please!”

“I’m coming!” Dick shouts, and by the sounds it seems like he has flung himself out of bed
and is struggling into the suit. “Where are you?”

“Help me…Please, Big Bird…” Jason lets his voice die out in a whimper, the only sound he
could manage back then.

He hadn’t even managed to scream at the end. Just…just cling on to her, thinking he could
shield her, and then…

He flings the phone away, letting it smash against the headstone.

Here lies Jason Todd.

Fortunately, he doesn’t lose it completely this time. He is still together enough to gather the
fragments of the burner phone and toss it into the river before a dishevelled Nightwing traces
the call back to the cemetery.

Maybe he should be a little concerned about his dumbass brother answering a ghost on his
phone and promising to go anywhere to fetch them.

Maybe he will include that in the planned monologue. Basic survival instincts. What the hell
kinda role model is he for the new kid?

Chapter End Notes

* I am fully aware the canonicity of pit madness and the question of just how
responsible Jason was and is for his actions are a matter of debate. But if Jason is
actually responsible for the things he did as Red Hood, he will need a 50K+ Redemption
Arc before he can actually be written as a hero, forget re integrate into the Bat Family.
Since I don't have the patience nor time for that, I'm going to go with my headcanon of
Pit Madness and PTSD driving him.

*Like most long running comic franchises, DCU has a habit of getting the canon
majorly tangled up. (Evidence:
https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/ContinuitySnarl/TheDCU ). Given this is what
the official writers do, I'm gonna just pick and choose as I wish from the canon so that I
can have my messed up but still supportive and doing their best Batfamily dynamics,
like in Wayne Family Adventures :)

*Hmm, why is Dick quite so fast to believe it is Jason? Why no question of it being an
imposter? Answers upcoming...

*Jason, the theatre kid... By the way, if you want some fluff to take the angst off, check
out the Inspired By fic. It's perfect.

*As always, comments of all kinds welcome and appreciated. They are my main
motivation to post, lol :)
 Assumptions...
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Here lies Jason Todd.

The tomb is as it always is. He visits often enough to keep it clean, but not often enough that
Bruce catches him there.

Their relationship has improved, the cracks almost mended, but not enough for Dick to trust
either of them with an encounter here.

Jason Todd. Robin. Fifteen years old.

The body… Dick never saw his corpse, he wasn’t on earth for it, he wasn’t there for the
funeral…

But he has seen the autopsy photos. Hacked them, though the Titans pleaded with him not to.

They didn’t get it. He had to see.

It was part of the punishment. He had refused to see when he should. Only fair that he looked
at what he helped cause.

Oh, Dick isn’t stupid. He knows it wasn’t all his fault. He doesn’t have a guilt complex,
despite what some seem to think.

It was Joker who killed Jason. It was Bruce who pushed the boy away, bad enough that Jason
would go to any length for a parent who wouldn’t abandon him.

But… Neither would have happened if Dick was there.

That has always been his role, from the beginning. Robin, to soften Batman’s darkness.

A promise that the Bat is not just vengeance incarnate. Someone to smile and talk, someone
in bright colours, someone who could be what Batman couldn’t.

Dick has enough experience covering for Bruce, enough experience translating for him.

He knows full well that Bruce loved Jason – he also knows that Bruce would never have been
able to express it in the way Jason needed. Dick should have been there.

He could have helped Jason see the subtext. He could have coaxed or threatened Bruce into
actually saying the right words instead of believing it would all be deduced.

If he had been there, if he had been the big brother he was supposed to be, Jason would still
be alive. There’s no denying that.
Joker is psychotic. Bruce is a mess. Dick is the one who is okay.

He is the one who could have been there and chose not to be. Because his so-called
independence was worth more than his little brother. Because his freedom was worth a kid’s
life.

So, it is of no surprise that this is happening to him. He is the one in this equation who had a
real choice.

Raven had warned them all, that there might be aftereffects.

The mission was resolved, the spirits sent back to where they belonged, but an encounter like
that would leave everyone involved with a certain aura for a while.

Meaning you would basically be a beacon to certain kinds of spirits. Beings. Things from out
there.

Raven had warned all of them to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary, even if it
is something as simple as a misplaced item or unexplained bruises. Anything that might be a
hint something from beyond the veil has crossed over.

A hint. Dick smiles wryly. Yeah, receiving a phone call from his dead brother counts as a
hint.

He knows what he should do now.

They have clear instructions.

He is supposed to call Raven right now, alert her to what is going on. If she’s not taking the
call, Zatanna. Or Constantine. Or Strange. Immediately.

Those from beyond the veil, no matter what they were in life, no matter what their intentions
for crossing over, are dangerous. The dead cannot walk among the living. They must be sent
back.

He should call Raven.

Dick looks down at his phone. He knows he should call Raven. He is the leader, he is
supposed to be the responsible one.

It will be easy.

Just call Raven. Let her know.

She will be sympathetic. She of all people knows what it is like to have the past reach out for
you with claws. No one else would even need to know.

But… But Dick has seen how the exorcism works, okay?
Raven tries to be gentle, tries to be kind. But there is little she can do to make the process
itself gentle.

The spirits – especially the young spirits, the ones who never really got to have a life –
instinctively cling on to the world of the living. They have to be torn away.

He saw how the other spirits, the ones the Titans had to tangle with, were banished. He heard
them scream, he heard the screams turn into whimpers at the end.

Now he hears Jason’s voice in his ear, pleading for help, the scream dying into a whimper.

He pictures Jason’s spirit screaming, screaming as the rift is torn open once more and he is
pulled back behind the veil. Jason reaching out for him, pleading….

He shudders. No. Not again. Please, not again.

But Jason… Jason needs to be sent back. Needs to rest. He can’t just let his brother wander
like them, lost, scared… Maybe even stuck reliving the last moments of his life.

He needs to help Jason. He has to.

There are other ways, he knows, of helping spirits find their way back.

They looked it all up, during the mission. Backup plans for the exorcism. Many of them are
even nastier than Raven’s exorcism.

But there is one option. They can be persuaded. Given closure. Guided back to where they
should be.

It is difficult, a far longer process than exorcism. And far riskier, to the one attempting it, but
that is not a consideration right now.

That was something to be considered when the spirits were those of strangers. Not when it is
your little brother. Your little brother you failed too many times already.

He can’t let Jason down again. He can’t. Screw the risk. He’s not going to stand by and let
Jason be dragged screaming and agonized into death. Not again.

Dick takes a deep breath. It’s okay. He’s got it under control.

Just as well that they are in Gotham.

He’s off-duty from the Titans (unless the all-hands-on-deck SOS goes out) till B gets back.
Gotham is not the kind of place that can be left for Robin to take care of alone.

Gotham will help. A familiar place. A familiar world.

Maybe he should move back into the Manor, instead of staying at the penthouse? Will a
more familiar environment help Jason?
Or… No. He can’t do that.

Yeah, maybe he would be the only one affected by Jay’s spirit. But they tend to become…
more restless, as time goes on.

He can’t risk Jason manifesting in the Manor. Spirits sometimes – not always, but too often –
tend to wear the wounds they died of.

He…He’s not going to risk Alfred or Tim seeing Jason’s broken corpse. Especially not Tim,
who adores the second Robin.

No. This is his problem to solve. He can deal with it. He has to. God, please let him deal with
it.

………………………………………

The next time Jason calls, Dick picks up even before the first ring is done.

It is kind of flattering, to see that the great Nightwing is on edge enough. (And apparently not
sleeping, a slightly too concerned part of his mind reminds Jason. It is four thirty in the
morning, after all)

“Jay?”

He does not want to be called that.

It is a memory of the past, a memory that he doesn’t want to have. It was not enough. The
stupid pet names, the claim that Jason was his brother. And he wasn’t there. He was not there.

“Jay, can you hear me?”

Can’t have him hang up.

“Dick?” This time, Jason makes his voice sound hollow, numb. Lifeless. Like a corpse
talking. “It’s so cold in here, Dick. So cold…dark.”

“Where are you, Jay?”

Concern in the voice. No disbelief, but concern. But then again, that is only to be expected,
isn’t it? This is Dick Grayson. Golden boy.

Of course he would feel concern. He would feel concern if it was the Joker himself on phone
asking for help. Damn him.

It meant nothing. That was what Jason hadn’t known the first time around.

It didn’t matter if Dick hung out with you, if he clowned around to make you smile, if he
hugged you and ruffled your hair and called you pet names.

That doesn’t mean you are anything special. That doesn’t mean you mean anything to him.
That is just what he does with everyone. That is just reflex to him, like breathing. It doesn’t
mean jackshit.

“It’s so dark in here, Dick” Jason keeps his voice flat, numb. With just the right undertone of
despair.

He has seen Nightwing talk would-be-suicides off the ledge. This is a tone Dick would be
familiar with. Jason is counting on that. It is the dead talking, after all.

“Jay” Dick’s voice cracks. The tears don’t mean much, either, Jason tells himself. The tears
mean no more than the smiles. They are too easily won from Dick Grayson. “Jaybird, tell me
where you are. Please.”

“They cut me open” Jason keeps reciting. “They cut me open, Dick. I can still feel where
they cut me. I can still see where they cut me. It… It looks so awful, Dick.”

“Don’t look, Little Wing”

Jason wants to yell, wants to tell him he lost the right to call him that, but it will break his
cover. His scene.

“It feels so wrong, Dick. It feels so scary. Like, like if I moved wrong, I’ll split open…”

“Jay…”

“Did they take out everything in me, Dick? Isn’t that what they do? When they autopsy
people? Didn’t you watch Bruce do autopsies?”

“Jay, don’t think about that, please don’t think about that-“

“It’s so cold… I feel hollow, Dick. Did they take out everything inside me? Is that why I feel
so hollow?”

Dick tries to say something at the other end, but it is too lost in sobs to be coherent. Dick has
always cried too easily. Jason has seen him cry for strangers.

It, like everything else about Dick Grayson trademark Caring Hero performance, means
nothing.

“Why didn’t you come for me, Dick? Was I that bad a little brother? Is that why?”

A strangled word from the other end that was probably an attempt at saying no. Jason smiles.
The Green is pulsing at the corner of his vision with every sound.

“I was, wasn’t I. A bad brother. A bad Robin. No wonder you were glad to get rid of me. No
wonder you wouldn’t hurt the Joker for it. He saved you both so much trouble.”

He doesn’t give Dick the chance to answer, cutting the call.

……………………………..
Dick spends the rest of the night curled up on the bathroom floor, throwing up, sobbing.

He’s not entirely sure how long he stayed there. Everything just kind of melts, the way they
used to back then.

Right after… Right after mami and tati.

When he kept seeing them in nightmares. When he kept seeing them fall.

Seeing them standing before him the way they were on the sawdust ring, crushed and
bloodied. (The way Jason had been…)

Kept seeing them. Kept hearing them.

Hearing them tell him they would have been okay, they would have made it, if only he was
out there too, on the trapeze.

If there was a third catcher on the trapeze, if there was a third trapeze they could grab, they
would have made it.

They would have made it if he was better, if he was good enough that they didn’t have to
delay his entry into the performance.

Standing there, telling him it was his fault. He wasn’t there. He is never there. Not when it
counts.

He got over the nightmares. He could get over the nightmares.

He could tell himself that it was not real – that he was just a little boy, he would never have
been able to catch an adult, even if his swing was not tampered with as well. If he was out
there, he would have died too, and that was all.

He could tell himself that.

He could tell himself that mami and tati would never blame him, would never ever look at
him like that, with cold disgust and disappointment in their eyes.

Never ever. Not even if he was actually guilty. Not even if there had been a way he could
have saved them.

The nightmares were just that. Nightmares.

Mami and tati weren’t back. They didn’t hate him. They weren’t mad at him. He convinced
himself of that.

But this… This is not a nightmare. Even if Jason is talking the way he did in the nightmares
Dick used to get after…after Ethiopia…

This is not a nightmare. He can’t fool himself about this. This is real. This is Jason. This is
his little brother. And he needs to find him. Needs to help him.
Dick manages to pull himself off the floor, reaching for his phone. No missed calls. No voice
mails. Thank God for that.

He is reasonably sure he didn’t black out or doze off, but it still feels better with a
reassurance that he didn’t miss yet another call from Jason. Never again.

Jason thinks they left him to die. Jason thinks he was not worth saving.

He doesn’t know how it tore Bruce apart, how Bruce almost killed himself trying to get
revenge, how Superman himself had to hold him back from killing Joker.

He doesn’t know they care. He doesn’t know they still mourn. He needs to be told. He needs
closure.

……………………………………

Jason keeps calling. He doesn’t keep fixed intervals anymore, just making sure the frequency
of the calls increases.

He has the script planned out. He wants it building to a climax before he puts in his own
appearance.

He keeps watching Nightwing.

He’s still out there, every night. Clearly, he hasn’t told anyone. Not the Bat. None of his
Titans.

Or so it seems, because surely even they wouldn’t be crazy enough to let an apparently
hallucinating vigilante keep his patrol. At least, he hoped not.

Dick is starting to lose a bit of his Nightwing cheer, and has lost more than a bit of his colour.
The domino mask hides them, but Jason is sure there are dark bags under his eyes.

Good. Lose a few nights’ sleep. That’s the least you owe.

He keeps apologizing, keeps pleading – or trying to, when he can manage coherent words
between the tears.

If this was the Bat breaking down, Jason might possibly have relented. But tears from his
brother are too easily coaxed. He needs more from Goldie.

“I called for you” Jason says, his voice deliberately that of a little boy, a boy even younger
than he had been when he died.

A lost kid. Performance guaranteed to pull at heartstrings.

“I knew you weren’t there, you are never there. But still I called for you. Why not? You were
Robin. You were the Boy Wonder. The one who always managed to work miracles. I called
for you when I felt my ribs break, when I saw the countdown rushing by too fast. I called for
you because I needed a miracle. And you weren’t there.”
“Jay…Come to me” Dick pleads. “If you can’t tell me where you are, please come to me.”

“You don’t want me. You never wanted me.”

“Jay… Please. Just come to me. We can… Oh God, we can’t set this right, I can’t set this
right… But we can make it better, Little Wing. Please.”

Jason cuts the call, but smiles.

Come to me, huh? Make it better. Of course Goldie is convinced he can make it better. If he
ever bothers to.

Let’s see whether he means it. Let’s see whether he means it when he sees what has come
back.

Jason had meant to drag the performance out a bit longer. Maybe leave bloody handprints
over his place or something.

But somehow, he has started to lose the taste for this game.

The Green still surges, of course, and there are times when he loses it all in the thrill of
righteous vengeance. But sometimes… Sometimes, when he hears Dick’s voice lost amid the
sobs…

Maybe seeing him will work better.

Give the Green something to latch onto. Especially if Nightwing changes his mind about
wanting to see his ‘lost little brother’ once he actually sees what is left.

………………………………….

Jason has been planning this long enough. The makeup is part of the plan. He doesn’t need to
think about it.

He is glad he doesn’t have to think about it, because he is afraid he might change his mind if
he did. If he thinks too much about how Dick sounded on phone.

Why is he so…eager to believe? Dick isn’t stupid. He should know there’s a high chance this
is an impostor…

Wait, maybe that’s it? Nightwing believes he’s an impostor, the whole ‘come home Little
Wing’ sob story is a way to catch him red-handed?

That…makes sense. Makes a lot of sense. Dick has always been the best at acting, after all.
always the performer.

Jason smiles. If Nightwing has laid a trap for him…

Well. He can make sure what falls into it is nothing he will be able to touch. Maybe his
makeup could do with a few more touches.
……………………………………

Jason looks at himself in the mirror.

He’ll have to be very careful no one catches a glimpse of him on the way to Dick’s
penthouse.

Sure, he may have changed his mind about the no-kill rule, but he definitely doesn’t want his
first kill in Gotham to be a heart attack induced on some old lady looking out of the window
at the wrong moment.

There’s mud – graveyard dirt, he is keeping this realistic – and fake blood all over his face.
His hands.

The good kind of fake blood, the one with the right smell and colour. Not the stupid
Halloween thing. Good enough to take in even someone who has been seeing blood covered
bodies since nine.

He’s wearing a suit, like the one he was buried in.

Dickhead wouldn’t know that, he wasn’t there for the funeral and it was closed casket
anyway, but it looks appropriate.

He wanted to be wearing a Robin costume, wanted Dick to see the dead Robin before him in
all his glory, but… Well. He couldn’t find one that wouldn’t look ridiculous on him.

On his fifteen year old, shortstack self, sure.

But now? No.

Even the proud owner of the Discowing costume would be well within his rights to laugh him
out of the room if he showed up in that. Especially since you don’t really get any adult sized
Robin costumes.

No. The suit will be fine.

Jason supposes this was how he looked back then, when Talia found him. When he clawed
his way out of the grave.

The suit is carefully torn, enough that the Y-Scar of the autopsy is visible.

Jason rubs some makeup on it too, to make it look redder, more visible. Checks his face to
make sure the makeup is the right shade of greyish pallor, the beginning of rot.

Right. He’s ready. Let’s go see what Goldie will make of his new/old little brother.

He very much doubts even Nightwing’s apparently dormant survival instincts would let him
get close to this thing, even if he’s convinced it’s an impostor. Jason looks like every zombie
movie induced nightmare ever.
Chapter End Notes

* The mission mentioned is something that I've made up, mostly to explain why Dick
jumps to the conclusion Jason's ghost is talking to him. The Titans canon is pretty mixed
up, especially with all the retcons, so I'm putting Raven into the team with Dick even
though they may not have been members at the same time.

*Dick, declaring he doesn't have a guilt complex. Also Dick, convinced that everything
that went wrong was due to him screwing up. Also Dick "Eldest Daughter" Grayson,
convinced that he is the only one of the family who is okay, when he is very much not.

*As always, comments of all kinds, including concrit, welcome and appreciated.
 Face to Face
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Dick had thought he was ready for this. He was convinced he was ready for this.

After all, he had seen them already, hadn’t he? Stood there right with Raven while she
banished them. They all had.

He had seen how they looked. He knew what they could look like. Especially the ones that
changed forms every moment or so.

He was… He should have been ready. But he can’t help instinctively flinching back when he
sees him.

Yeah, Jason doesn’t actually look as bad as many of those spirits did. But this is…this is
Jason. This is his kid brother.

And dammit, Dick just flinched back from his kid brother. After telling him to come to him.

Jason laughs. The sound is raspy, nothing like the laugh he is used to hearing from the kid.
“Not the pretty Robin anymore, right, Goldie?”

Goldie. Jason only calls – called – calls him that when he’s in a really bad mood. Well. If
there was any time where the kid had the right to be in a bad mood this is it, right?

“I’m sorry, Jay” Dick manages to smile.

He forces himself to look at Jason, look him in the eyes.

The bright blue eyes he remembers are now tinged with green, a shade that reminds Dick too
much of graveyard moss, of the fungus they once found growing on an abandoned corpse,
one Bruce tried to keep the then-Robin from seeing.

“You’re…You’re taller than me now. Bigger than me.”

This is what grown up Jason would have looked like.

This is what he would have looked like if he had lived to grow up.

He had just been starting to get his growth spurts back then… Delayed growth spurt due to
all those years with barely enough food….

This is what his Little Wing would have looked like in a kinder world.

“Bigger than you” Jason echoes. “That the first thing you noticed?”
 No. The first thing was the autopsy scar. Red, accusing. Half hidden by the suit they buried
Jay in. The next was the way a side of his face still looked…caved in. the marks of a crowbar.

It takes every bit of self-control Dick has to keep from shuddering. Jason doesn’t need that
from him.

“Guess I can’t call you Little Wing anymore” he is starting to get a little dizzy.

Maybe he should have made himself eat something today, at least those protein bars. But
every time he tries, that voice on the phone comes back again, and he just ends up throwing
up.

“Jaybird… Jaybird still okay?”

Jason glares at him. “Why don’t you just call me Robin. Oh, forgot. You can’t do that
anymore, can you? You got yourself a new Robin.”

There’s so much anger in Jason’s voice, and it looks like the green swirls deeper in his eyes.
Or that’s just Dick getting lightheaded. “Jay, no… It wasn’t-“

“Did you even wait till they buried me? Was that why you weren’t at the funeral? Were you
out there scouting for the next kid to die in that suit?”

“NO!” There’s so much to unpack from that sentence, so many explanations that are due, but
he can’t… “Jay, no, please, I wasn’t, we weren’t-“

Stop. Stop blubbering. You need to find the right words. You have to find the words he needs.

But Jason doesn’t give him the chance. Even if he could have found the words. Even if there
were any right words to be found.

“You got yourself a new Robin. Batman got himself a new Robin. Another little soldier for
his crusade. Another kid to die out there. And you…You let him. You and all those lunatics in
bright colours out there, the so-called freaking heroes. You let him put a kid in that suit
again!”

“Tim… Tim isn’t going to…We are…”

“You are what? Going to keep him safe? That worked fucking great, didn’t it?” Jason
gestures to himself, to the blood, the scars. “I was fifteen!”

“I know” Dick’s voice cracks. No, he can’t cry, not now, not now. He has to stay together.
“You were so…so small, Jay”

The autopsy report. 4’8 and 80 lbs. Fifteen years old. The body on that autopsy table.

“I was alive, you know” Jason continues “The beating didn’t kill me. He knew that as well, I
guess. I was alive. I was trying to stop the countdown. He had taught me. Taught me to
defuse a bomb. When I was twelve.”
 Dick can remember that, remember how proud Jay had been, when he finally managed to
beat the timer for the first time. He can remember ruffling the kid’s hair as he beamed at him.

“I knew how to defuse it” Jason smiles. Something dark glints on his teeth. “That’s kinda
what made it worse, you know. I knew how to do it. I could have stopped it. If, you know, I
hadn’t had my head half bashed in and most of my blood outside my body.”

Dick flinches. He hasn’t eaten anything, there should be nothing left in his stomach to come
up, but he’s struggling hard not to throw up again.

“Guess that’s why you two were so disappointed. It was my fault, wasn’t it? I disobeyed
orders. I was too stupid to figure out I was walking into a trap. I was too stupid to read the
situation. And after everything, when I had the chance to save myself, I was too stupid to use
it.”

Dick knows he must say something, anything. But his throat is too dry, words somehow just
out of reach.

“That’s why you guys didn’t bother after, right? Too stupid to be a Robin. Too worthless to
bother avenging.”

“No!” Dick screams. Or tries to scream. The word just comes out as a whimper. “Jay, no, it
wasn’t like that, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault, we never thought so, we’d
never think so, Oh God, Jay… No. It wasn’t-“

He’s rambling, he knows. He had thought up what to say when he finally saw Jason, but
those words are all gone.

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Jason’s laugh is almost a sob this time “Then if it wasn’t my fault, why were
you so eager to grab a replacement? Why are you so sure this kid isn’t gonna end up six feet
under too? Your baby genius? He’s smart, right? So freaking smart. What if someone puts
him in the warehouse next, Big Bird? What if next time it’s him bleeding out… D’you have
the next replacement lined up?”

Dick doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. He can’t breathe. It feels like his throat has
closed up. He tries to struggle past it, tries to fight through. He tries.

Dammit, he hasn’t had a panic attack in ages, he can’t have it now, not now, not when he has
to…

“Never…never replaced…” he manages to say, but the words sound strangled beyond
coherency even to his own ears. Jason doesn’t seem to have heard it.

“You made it through. The Boy Wonder. The Magic Robin. And that made him think – made
them all think – that it was fine. The first little Robin is still flying strong, isn’t he? He’s still
smiling, he’s still fighting, he’s everyone’s darling. He’s still the guy every freaking hero out
there would jump through fire for. He’s perfect. Robin didn’t break him. Batman didn’t break
him.”
Jason barks out another bitter laugh.

“So if the next Robin ends up broken, that means the little idiot messed up, right? That he
wasn’t tough enough. Smart enough. So just toss him in the trash, defective model. Toss him
in a grave, give him a pretty little headstone, cut your losses. Then go looking for the next
Robin. This time make sure you don’t pick a defective model. No garbage from the streets. A
worthy little brother for the Boy Wonder”

“You’re my brother” Dick tries to say, but he can’t. There isn’t enough breath in his lungs to
speak.

He tries to reach for Jason. His hand would likely go through, but some of the spirits are
solid- This one is solid enough to knock his arm away, push him hard enough to send him
crashing to the wall.

And then Jason is gone.

………………………………………

Jason almost sprained an ankle leaping out the window, but he doesn’t stop running till he is
back at the safehouse.

The Green was too close to the surface.

He couldn’t let Dick touch him. That would have been the last straw. Already his control is
starting to slip.

He locks the door, sinking to the floor cross legged. Meditate. Push away the Green.

He can’t, not fully.

But at least… At least he didn’t do anything to Dick. He didn’t, right?

There’s no blood on his hands, no marks on his knuckles. His carefully applied stage makeup
hasn’t even been smudged. No indication that he was in a fight with anyone, forget
Nightwing.

Okay. So that’s fine.

The first face to face encounter went as planned.

Though he wasn’t… Well. He wasn’t as prepared as he thought for seeing Dick freak out.
That’s fine, though. That’s peachy keen. He intends to get quite some practice at that.

He had expected Dick to talk a lot more, though. To argue. To try and activate whatever trap
it was that he had set up.

He surely had a trap set up, right? Batman’s golden boy would never neglect such simple
precautions.
So the whole visual must have been gruesome enough to knock him for a loop. Glad to know.

Next time… Next time he intends to give the bastard some more time to talk. He’s curious to
know what the excuses are, the explanations.

Because of course precious sunshine boy Dick would never come out and say ‘you weren’t
good enough’. Batman might say that. Batman would say that.

Dick would find a way to dance around the truth, some way to wrap it up in pretty colours.
The way he always does.

…………………………….

Dick isn’t stupid. Careless, sometimes. But not stupid.

He’s fully aware that in Gotham, when one sees something that looks like it stepped straight
out of a nightmare, there’s one test you have to run ASAP.

Sure, Scarecrow is still locked up tight in Arkham, but that doesn’t mean someone hasn’t
grabbed a bit of his product. There is a high value trade going on, one that they are close to
rounding up.

He needs to be sure.

Tim is in the cave when he gets there, parked in front of his laptop.

From the way he jumps, Dick is about ninety seven percent sure it was nothing work related
that he was looking at. He is about eighty nine percent sure it was a chat with Kon. His baby
bird is adorable.

“Dick! What’s wrong?”

Huh? Is it that obvious?

“What?” Dick laughs “I can’t visit without a crisis?”

Tim narrows his eyes. “You’re too pale. And you look like a racoon with those eye bags.”

Well. When Tim Drake starts lecturing you on not getting enough sleep…

“I’m fine, baby bird. Just a later than usual late night.”

“You should be in bed.”

“So should you.”

“I’m never in bed.”

“That’s not the winning argument you think it is, Timmy” Dick moves as if he means to
scoop Tim up and carry him to bed.
 It works as intended. Tim screeches in indignation and moves as if to dump his coffee on
him. Dick retreats, laughing and holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Seriously. You look like crap, man.”

Dick wants to shrug it off with a joke, but Tim won’t let it go. And much as he wants the
reassurance of staying near his brother, Dick knows he’s not in shape to be interrogated by
Tim Drake.

“I know, I know” he gives in with a sheepish smile “Don’t worry, I’ve got no plans for the
day except a long nap. Just need to run some tests first.”

“I can do the tests for you.”

Wow. Just how bad does he look?

“It’ll only take a couple of minutes, Tim. Just a blood sample to be tested.”

“For one of your cases?”

Dick nods, keeping his eye on the screen. Tim is the best detective among them all. he
intends to give him no further clues. He’s certainly not going to meet his eyes and lie to him
face to face.

“Which one?”

Dick sighs. “Baby bird, I do need a nap, ‘kay? Just let me run the tests and go. We’ll talk
about the case later.”

Much, much later. If ever. He won’t put it past Tim to figure out some way to see spirits, if
only to catch a glimpse of his hero Jason.

Dick has seen what Jason looks like now. He’s not going to risk Tim seeing that.

There’s still hesitation, but Dick must have really looked like crap, because Tim takes pity on
him and turns away. Letting him run the Tox screen in peace.

He’s not entirely sure what outcome he is hoping for.

On the one hand, if it is just fear toxin, it’s something that can be fixed with just an antidote.
if not... If Jason is back, if Jason hates him…

Clean, the batcomputer announces.

Clean. No toxins. No fear toxin. No Ivy Pollen. Clean.

It is really Jason. And…and he did say what Dick thinks he heard him say. He said it. He
meant it.

He manages to wrestle back the tightness in his chest.

It’s just confirmation of what he already knew. Jason… Jason is trapped here. And he needs
closure before he can return.

Okay. He can deal with that. He will deal with that.

…………………………………………..

He doesn’t get to take a nap.

When he gets back home, Jason is already there. This time, Dick doesn’t flinch. He’s ready
for this. Hopefully.

“Hello, Jay”

He remembers the directions in the grimoire. Act normal. Act the way you would if they
were alive and before you. Ignore the…deadness.

He spectacularly crashed that part of the directions before, but this time he is going to
manage. He has to.

“Back from playing with your little brother?” Jason’s voice is raspy, but at least it is not the
numb, dead voice Dick heard on the phone.

There’s anger, sure, but he can take anger. That’s at any time easier to deal with than
numbness

“With my baby brother” Dick smiles “You’re my little brother.”

He sits down on the couch beside Jason. There’s little smell of rot. Thank heavens. He can
ignore the smell of blood and dirt that coats Jason.

He wonders whether they could clean up. Whether Jason might feel better if he appeared in a
more lifelike form.

“I was never your brother” Jay spits out.

Dick tries not to wince. Of course, he should have expected this, given what Jason talked
about on the phone, and the last time he visited.

“You were. You are. Always” he looks Jason in the eyes, deliberately not reacting to the
green tinge.

Act the way you would if they were alive and upset.

“And I am more sorry than I can ever say that I didn’t make sure you knew that when you
were…when you were here.”

He wants to reach out to Jason. Place a hand on his arm. Maybe try to pull him into a hug.
That is what he would have done if Jason was alive and upset. That is what he has done…
though never often enough.

But he’s afraid to, given how Jason reacted the last time he tried to touch him. Sometimes
those who return do not like the touch of the living. Sometimes it burns them.

“You are sorry” Jason echoes. “And that is supposed to fix this? Supposed to make us all go
back to being a big happy family again?”

Dick shakes his head. He knows he can’t fix it all. he never could. Not all, and nowhere
close to enough. “I know. I just…just had to say it. You don’t have to accept it.”

“I don’t have to accept it” Jason glares “Seriously? Therapist talk?”

Dick makes sure his smile doesn’t waver. “Well, I am kinda going to school for that now,
so…”

Jason snorts. “Thought you were a cop these days. What, quit because that’s too blue collar
for you?”

“Too close to our night job” Dick shrugs.

Jason doesn’t need the whole story. No one needs the whole story. He just told them he
changed his mind. After all, they can’t be too surprised about that.

Dick Grayson is always changing his mind, right? About his name. About college. About his
job. It shouldn’t surprise them anymore.

He gets the feeling Bruce is mostly glad about this change, anyway. Alfred certainly is.

Jason just looks at him, eyes narrowed.

Dick shrugs again “Can you eat? Alfred sent over a casserole. I was about to reheat it.”

No, he was about to try and stuff a granola bar down his throat before crashing onto bed.
Jason doesn’t need to know that, either.

“Quit acting” Jason growls.

Dick turns to him. “What d’you mean, Jay?”

“Quit fucking playing house with me.”

Okay. Sure. Most spirits feel better with a cover of normalcy, according to the grimoire. So
either the book is crap, or his brother is, as usual, the exception to norm.

“I’m sorry. I was… I dunno, thought it’d be easier if we…”

“If we pretended everything was fine. If we pretended you were the perfect big brother all the
time. If we pretended I didn’t fucking DIE!”
 Dick lowers his gaze from the rage in Jason’s eyes. He deserves this. “I’m screwing this up,
ain’t I.”

“Oh, you screwed up way before this, Goldie. Not that anyone would dare imagine that.”

You’d be surprised, Jay. But that isn’t what this conversation is about.

“What do you need me to do?” he settles for asking. Going by the textbook has never really
worked with his family.

“I needed you a couple of years back” Jason snarls.

Dick nods. “I know. I wasn’t there. I should have been. I’m sorry.”

He knows he’s saying sorry too often. That word often lacks meaning, given the frequency
with which it is used. He can’t blame Jason for the way he is looking at him.

“You’re sorry. You’re fucking sorry. But that didn’t change anything, did it?”

It did.

He made sure to be there for Tim. As much as he could.

No matter what was going on between him and Bruce. He made sure Tim would never be left
in doubt that he had a big brother he could call.

But is it enough? Is he doing enough? Or is Tim also left like Jay was? Does Tim know he
can call?

A day ago Dick would have been certain he could, but now doubt is gnawing at him.

What if he’s screwing up with Tim, too? But Tim has his friends, his own team… Surely…
He isn’t alone like Jay was…

“I’m trying” he settles for saying.

“You’re trying” the venom in Jason’s voice is unmistakable. “Then why the hell is Joker still
breathing?”

Dick’s breath catches in his throat once again. Oh. Oh. He…should have expected this.
Jason… His last memories… Of course he’d want…

“Why the hell is he still breathing?” Jason repeats “Joker, Two Face, Croc… All of them
fucking locked up in their cosy little cells in Arkham, free to break out whenever they want,
again and again and again. And you…you won’t FUCKING DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT!”

Dick manages not to flinch back when Jason screams in his face. “You wanted us to kill Joker
in revenge, didn’t you?”

“Brilliant deduction, Dickwad! What clued you in?”

 Dick takes a deep breath. He’s not sure how he can explain it.

He is reasonably sure that it will not be an explanation Jason will – or can, in this state –
accept, no matter how he phrases it.

That’s okay. He… He owes him an answer, at least.

Chapter End Notes

*Of course, more angst. And equally of course, it will have to get worse before it gets
better... I kinda love hurting poor Big Bird a bit too much.

*As for Dick's career change... I've always thought Dick would be far better a social
worker than a police officer. A career that allows him to play detective often enough.
Plus, he would have plenty of experience with social services - especially child services
- from his own and Jason's experience. So, in my headcanon, Dick is going to be a social
worker.

*As always, comments of all kinds welcome and appreciated. They are my main
motivation to post :)
 Why They Don't Kill
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

“We…We couldn’t, Jay”

Dick is prepared for the explosion of fury that follows the answer.

Jason is solid enough in this form, at least. Solid enough to grab hold of Dick, throw him off
the couch and into the wall.

Solid enough that Dick can feel his grip on his throat, cutting off his airway. Dick doesn’t
fight back. He can’t. Not against Jason.

“You…You damned…” Jason’s voice has lost a bit of the raspiness, and he is trembling.

For a moment Dick is convinced he is going to strangle him then and there. Maybe…maybe
they could go together, he could maybe convince Jason to leave if they are leaving together…

But Jason lets go of him, lets him drop to the floor.

“You couldn’t” Jason glares down at him, eyes blazing green. “You couldn’t. Because your
oh-so-noble morality couldn’t stand it?”

Jason says ‘morality’ like it is a swear word.

Dick has to struggle to force air and words through his bruised throat, but he manages to.
“No. Because our sanity couldn’t.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dick has never had to put it in words. Bruce has never given him that reason.

Bruce has, of course, his own reasons for his no-kill code, reasons that he will expound on at
length.

They are good reasons in their own way. Reasons that can be debated for hours.

But Bruce knows, everyone who puts on a suit and lasts more than a year knows at least at
the back of their minds, that this is the main reason.

“I’ve been in this life since I was nine, Jay” It hurts to talk, but ignoring pain is something
they have all become adept at “And B has been doing this for years. You… You know the
kind of things we see out there. You know the kind of things that we have to deal with, out
there. Every night, it seems.”
“And you know who is responsible for those things” Jason growls “You know how to stop
them. You just won’t.”

“It never stops when someone dies”

Dick tries to look up, tries to meet Jason’s eyes, but he can’t lift his head. He’s too damn
tired.

“It never stops. One Rogue dies, another fills the place. We still find the bodies. We still find
the blood, find the broken people. We still deal with it. Wilson threw himself into the river
and drowned. Another slasher turned up in a month. One Clayface dies, another turns up.
Rogues dying never stops the bodies piling up. If Joker dies, there will just be another Joker
just as soon. He isn’t that special. It’s too good a gimmick for them to leave alone.”

“He would be dead, though” Jason hisses “The bastard who killed me would be dead. And
you think that would be so terrible an outcome as to break freaking Batman’s mind?”

“I know it would be”

Dick knows, in person. He knows what he felt when he saw Joker’s corpse before him, when
he knew he had killed someone. (He knows what he felt when Catalina shot… No, he’s not
thinking about that. Not now.)

He knows if Bruce hadn’t gotten there, if he hadn’t brought that creature back to life… He
knows he wouldn’t have been able to come back from that.

“Jay… This life… The kind of things we do… That’s not something which leaves people
okay. No matter how strong you are. No matter how brave you are. You see this every night,
you’re walking a tightrope. No one who puts on one of these suits is really okay. Not after
they’ve done this for a while, if they were ever okay to begin with.”

Jason is still glaring, but at least he hasn’t left.

“We… We need armour for our minds too. The cheesy names, the silly costumes… I don’t
know just how it helps, but it does. Maybe makes it a little less real. Makes it possible to keep
going out every night, knowing what we will find. Makes it possible to come home and take
off the costume and… I dunno, be okay for a little? We’re all a bit crazy. We need to let
ourselves be a bit crazy, because the alternative is going literally crazy.”

Dick looks down at his hands. Remembers them soaked in Joker’s blood.

“And part of the armour…part of the armour for our minds… It’s the no-kill rule. We’re
outside the law. Some of the heroes, some like Clark and Diana, they are completely outside
the reach of law. If they decide they want to do what they want, no one can stop them. Guys
like us, we’re not that immune. But we’re still a lot immune. Especially since… Well. All of
us know how to make a body and evidence disappear forever, don’t we?”

Jason nods. If Dick looks up, he will notice that his eyes aren’t quite so green anymore. He
doesn’t, though. He’s not sure he can.
“We swore to keep Gotham safe. We swore to do whatever it takes to keep Gotham safe. But
someone who leads our kind of life…someone like that doing whatever it takes…they will
lose it. Sooner or later. There has to be boundaries. There has to be a clear cut code. And the
no-kill one… We need it. It’s an anchor. Maybe not an entirely logical one, but it is the
anchor. We… Can’t afford to lose it. I guess it is selfish. But…it’d have broken Bruce. It’d
have broken us. That fucking Clown would have won.”

People aren’t built to kill.

That is something military trainers noticed first.

Even in a war, the ratio of bullets fired to injuries incurred is so skewed because soldiers
instinctively fire to miss.

Even in a life or death situation. Even facing a group that you have been taught to be your
eternal enemy. Even then, people can’t bring themselves to kill.

The military has to spend ages training that out of their recruits. Training them to kill,
training them to choke down the instincts that go against it.

And it results in a lot of those trained coming home damaged. Maybe not broken all the way,
not all of them, but damaged in a way even they can’t fully articulate.

And the heroes… They aren’t trained to kill. And when someone who is not a trained killer
kills… especially if their psyche is far from well to begin with…

“We need it to stay sane. Batman can kill. Nightwing can kill. But we can’t…we can’t kill
and keep going. The Joker deserves to die. It isn’t a question of morality. A sane person, a
healthy person – one who will likely never have to be put in a situation like that again – can
pull the trigger on him and no one will call it a sin. Hell, I’d cheer. But someone like a cop,
someone like a hero…Someone who will have to put themselves in showdowns like that
again, and again, and again… That’s different.”

“Someone like a cop” Jason frowns. The voice is not all that raspy now. Closer to Jay’s
normal tones. “That why you quit? You shot someone?”

Not likely to be in the papers. Cops shooting some guy, especially in Bludhaven or Gotham,
that’s not news. Maybe a single paragraph somewhere, without the name of the officers
involved.

“My partner did” Dick sighs “We were…We were there to arrest the guy. He… He
surrendered once we broke down the door and charged in. His gun was in the room, but out
of reach. He was on the ground, hands behind his head. We could have cuffed him, easy. We
didn’t need to shoot.”

“And your partner did.”

A sharp nod.
 “The guy… He was a killer. A nasty one. Killed his wife and their kids. My partner… And
everyone else who was on the case… They declared it was only fair. That the guy deserved
death. There was an IA investigation. My partner – and the others in the team – said the guy
was reaching for his gun, that it was almost in his hands.”

“And when they asked you, you told the truth.”

Dick nods. “It didn’t matter in the end, of course. Even if it wasn’t just my word against
those of every other cop there… Well. These investigations are pretty much a formality,
unless somehow public sympathy catches on. And that wouldn’t happen in this guy’s case.”

“But you gave evidence against your partner” Jason’s tone makes it clear he knows what that
meant.

“I was pariah from then on” Dick admits. “I called for backup. No one came. Evidence I filed
got mislabelled. I called for cover during a firefight, and no one responded.”

“You screwed with the thin blue line.”

“They made it clear” Dick smiles wearily “They couldn’t trust me to watch their backs, so
they would no longer bother to watch mine.”

Jason swears.

“I tried to keep going, anyway. Didn’t work. Wouldn’t work. It was putting civilians in
danger, not just me. I… I had to quit.”

Jason is silent for a long while. When Dick finally manages to look up, he’s no longer there.

“You think they were right, don’t you”

It’s not really a question, even if Jason was there to hear it.

…………………………………….

Damn it. Damn it all. He should never have started with Dick.

He should have waited for Batman. Just bided his time. Maybe shot some bastards while he’s
at it.

Right now he’s very highly tempted to go target shooting at Bludhaven PD.

And yes, Jason recognises the irony of it. He is a literature nerd, after all.

Starting with Dickhead was a mistake. He has always been able to find the right words, the
bastard.

With Bruce, the showdown would have been satisfying.

Bruce, if asked why he didn’t kill the Joker, would have brought out the old lines Jason has
heard a million times. How no one has the right to be judge, jury and executioner. How
killing would make them as bad as the criminals they fight.

The righteous declarations Jason could throw back in his face. Or hell, he may not even
bother with explanations, might have just gone straight for punching it out. Even more
satisfying.

But of course, Dick had to be Dick. Had to offer an argument to which there was no easy
counter.

An argument that wasn’t based on what is right or what is moral, just based on what the
person behind the mask can do and move on from.

Selfish? Even if it is selfish, a refusal to do something that they know – or at least deeply fear
– would break them… Is that really so much to ask for?

To be allowed to keep the no-kill code… Is that really too selfish a demand?

For people who risk their lives every night out there, for them to ask to be allowed a line they
won’t cross… For the sake of their own minds…

Aren’t they allowed that right?

That still makes them guilty, the Green tries to surge back. That still makes them guilty for
every life the Joker takes!

Maybe.

As guilty as every judge who wouldn’t ignore the insanity clause and pronounce the death
penalty.

As guilty as every cop who didn’t arrange a custody death or an officer involved shooting.

As guilty as every staff member at Arkham who didn’t give him an ‘accidental’ overdose.

Jason still wants revenge. But making Batman or Nightwing take that revenge for him…

Joker can be replaced. Will likely be replaced.

Can Batman or Nightwing be replaced that easily? If it did break them… Would taking down
the Joker be worth losing Batman or Nightwing?

And even if the chance of it breaking them isn’t as much as Dick claims it is…Is it a gamble
worth the pay-off?

And if he himself takes that revenge he wants…Will that change him?

He has killed before, but that was in the League, and in most of those cases he barely
remembers what was happening, in the midst of the smothering green.
Will it be safe for him to enter Arkham with the Green surging, knowing that guards and staff
will try to stop him, knowing that Joker won’t be the only casualty?

And if he fights back the Green, if he enters the asylum as himself and kills the Joker, eluding
security in a way Green-Crazed him cannot…

Will that be different from the way he has killed before? Will he be able to put that behind
him? Will it help quiet his brain? Or just add to the chaos within?

And…will that actually get rid of the Joker? Or will just another nutcase in a clown mask
pop up, taking over the wildly successful gimmick? Will it be different if he knows it’s not
the same Joker? Will it be worth it all?

Jason almost wants to let the Green take over again, just so that he doesn’t have to think
about this any longer.

Dammit all. He should have waited for the Bat to get back.

………………………………

Dick wants a night off.

More than he ever has. He needs a night off. Of course, he’s not going to get it. This is
Gotham, after all.

Well, at least, as far as such nights go, it’s pretty much routine. A bunch of thugs who has
stolen some of the supervillain items from one of the less well guarded GCPD evidence
storages.

Gordon called in Bat-Aid mostly because he is pretty sure at least a few of his officers are
involved in the theft and he’s not sure which ones yet.

Not much danger, but a lot of running around and scouting required. Dick and Tim are kept
pretty busy throughout.

It’s almost three in the morning by the time Dick tracks down the last of the bunch. Maybe he
might have punched the idiots a bit harder than absolutely necessary.

“Items secured” he calls over the comm. GCPD will come round up the tied up thieves.

The items in question will have to be delivered by hand to Gordon directly. Not taking
chances again.

Later, trying to trace the progress of events, the Bats would be astounded at just how many
things had to go wrong in just the right way for this to happen.

First, the theft had to occur and be discovered this very night.

Second, it had to be Nightwing rather than Robin who recovered this particular package.
Third, this package had to be labelled Mr. Freeze’s tech because that was what it mostly
contained, but also had to include a tiny vial of fear toxin which was apparently tossed in
because there wasn’t room anywhere else (in case no one has figured it out yet, GCPD
evidence filing sucks).

Fourth, the vial had to get crushed to powder when one of the thugs landed on top of the
crate during the fight.

Fifth, Nightwing had to open the box and check to make sure everything was still inside,
getting the toxin on his gloves and then his face when he reached up to adjust the domino
mask – and touched a cut on his cheek that was still bleeding, getting it in his bloodstream.

And of course, this had to be one of the older toxins, one which Nightwing – and most of the
Bats – have built up something of an immunity to.

Which, combined with the smaller than usual amount, meant none of the typical fear toxin
symptoms, none of the fast-acting ones which would have triggered an alarm. But yes, some
of the not so typical symptoms. There he wasn’t quite so immune.

But that will only be discovered later.

And at the moment, Dick Grayson hands over the package to a Commissioner who looks as
tired as Dick feels, and heads home to the penthouse, completing the check-in with Alfred as
he goes.

……………………………………..

Dick enters through the window to see that, once again, Jason is already there.

But this time Jason looks like the boy he was. Looks like the corpse he saw in the autopsy
pictures. He is in the Robin costume. The one he died in.

“Jay” Dick smiles, hoping that his exhaustion is not too obvious.

He doesn’t want to continue their talk now, oh God, he certainly doesn’t, but he’s not going
to let Jay find that out. The kid already has more than enough abandonment issues.

“You weren’t there” Jason’s voice has gone back to the numb, dead tone that came out of the
phone.

Dick nods, managing not to wince. He had hoped their last conversation meant some kind of
a breakthrough, if not exactly a catharsis at least the beginning of one, but apparently it has
only made things worse.

“I know, Jay. I… I’m so sorry.”

“You aren’t”

The words are not in the angry, accusing tone he heard before. They are calm, matter-of-fact.
Like Jason has already accepted the basic truth of it all, and just wants the pretence ripped
away.

“No” Dick can’t handle this talk now – but he can even less handle allowing his kid brother
to remain convinced of that a moment longer than necessary. “It hurt like hell, Jay. Missing
you, knowing I could have stopped it, that I could have saved you-“

“It can’t have hurt too bad. Not when you’re still laughing, still flying.”

Dick stops, not knowing what to answer.

“You can say it hurt all you like, but both of us know it didn’t. Not really. You just…you just
cried a bit and moped around a bit till everyone felt sorry for you, till they came and coddled
you, like you were the one who had the right to mourn. Like it wasn’t your fault. You moped
so that they’d tell you it wasn’t your fault. So that you could hurt Bruce.”

There’s something wrong, something very wrong. It’s different from all the times before that
he saw Jason, talked to Jason.

That Jason was angry, furious, brimming over with hurt and rage. This one is…cold. There’s
far more hate in the voice than anger.

Because he's had enough of you, another voice speaks up in his head. Because you gave him
that drivel about the no-kill rule when he needed help.

But he was trying to help! He thought it would help, explaining to Jason why they didn’t kill
Joker…

Well, it didn’t help. The evidence is standing right before you. Or d’you want to ignore him
some more? You’re pretty good at that.

“It wasn’t like that” he tries, but Jason’s cold eyes freeze the words on his lips.

“You wanted to hurt Bruce. You knew he was hurting, you knew you could help.”

“I couldn’t!”

That was no lie, oh god, surely that was no lie. He had tried. He had tried to talk, gone to the
Manor, but both of them had been hurting too bad, both of them too messed up…

“You wouldn’t” Jason’s voice allows no argument “You wouldn’t go back even when Tim
came by pleading for your help. Even when you knew Bruce was killing himself.”

“My going back would only have made things worse, Jay…”

“You are lying.”

“No-“

“You never cared. Not about me. Not about Bruce. Alfred. Tim. Anyone. If you ever cared,
you wouldn’t have let me die. If you ever cared, you wouldn’t have left Bruce to mourn
 alone. You. Never. Cared.”

Dick reaches out for Jason, but this time the phantom is not solid. His hands go through the
figure. Jason wavers and vanishes, the scorn filled expression unchanging.

Chapter End Notes

* I kinda hate the argument that the heroes with no-kill codes are responsible for the
deaths or damage their opponents cause. As Jason is starting to think in this version, if
they are to be held responsible, we'll also have to hold responsible every single person
who had the chance to kill the villain and didn't.

*It's especially noteworthy that most of the time heroes with no-kill codes kill, they tend
to go through a mental/emotional crisis. Happens to Superman himself in the comics,
and Dick literally has a mental breakdown over letting Catalina kill Blockbuster. The bit
mentioned about military training flouted by no-kill instincts is a legit study. (
https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/hope_on_the_battlefield ) The heroes are
allowed to have their limits too. They already put themselves through hell and back on a
daily basis.

*Of course, Bruce being Bruce gets overly righteous about the whole no-killing code,
and often goes overboard with it. But that is kinda par for the course for Bruce "seven-
hundred-neuroses-wrapped-in-a-cowl" Wayne. Dick is comparatively healthier and
would be able to admit vulnerability.

*The next chapter is going to be seriously brutal for Dick - he has mentally assigned
himself far more guilt than Jason ever would to him, and the fear toxin turns a mind
against itself... Poor dear.

*As always, comments of all kinds - including concrit - welcome and appreciated.
They're my main dopamine source for posting, lol.
 Darkest Before Dawn
Chapter Notes

WARNINGS: Suicide attempt, victim blaming, vague mentions of past rape/non con,

Honestly, I'm going to be putting Dick through the wringer in this one. Fear toxin, guilt
and gaslighting is not a good combination at all.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Jason keeps showing up, after that, at random intervals.

Or maybe he’s always there, just making himself visible when he chooses.

That’s probably it, because Dick can feel eyes on him almost every moment, a twitchy feeling
that just won’t leave.

Even exhausted, he can’t sleep. The couple of hours snatched are littered with nightmares.
Mostly to do with Jason.

Jason screaming for him. Jason, broken, bleeding. Jason, dead. Bruce, dead. In some dreams
he is just watching, helpless. In some dreams, he is the one pulling the trigger. At least in one,
he moves aside to dodge a bullet, only to doom Tim – or is it Jason, the faces seem to merge
and shift – who was behind him.

And always, Jason’s voice pursues him. You aren’t sorry. You never cared.

Dick has never been more grateful for his makeup skills, learned early on to cover suspicious
bruises. They work just as well to hide sleep deprivation.

Tim, the resident expert on the subject, notices of course. But equally of course, he doesn’t
know what is going on during the hours he is awake.

Thankfully, Jason is still invisible to everyone but Dick. He hopes it stays that way. He
doesn’t want to know what Jason will say to Tim in this state.

…………………………………….

“Great detective work” Dick gives Tim a thumbs up, looking at the evidence he has put
together. Ready to be mailed to Commissioner Gordon. “B couldn’t have done better.”

Jason, standing beside them, looks at him coldly. “He’s smart, right? They taught him pretty
well at that fancy private school. Not like the street rat.”
 “You were brilliant” Dick mouths to Jay, turning away a little so that Tim wouldn’t see.
“Straight As, class topper. B was – we all were – so proud of you.”

Jason scoffs in disbelief and vanishes. Dick hates that he feels a pang of relief when Jay is
gone.

……………………………………………………..

“Great talk about the no-kill code” Jason says, when they are on the rooftops on patrol.

It has started to rain. Dick is thinking about wrapping up patrol a bit early.

“Doesn’t apply when it’s your ass on line, does it?”

“I didn’t…” But he knows what Jay is talking about, and he doesn’t want to know.

This is not something he wants to be talking about to his little brother. Or to anyone, really.

“Oh, you didn’t. You just let her do your dirty work, didn’t you? Then pinned all the blame
on her.”

“I didn’t… I didn’t want her to. Catalina…”

Jason’s expression shows clear disgust. “Come on, Dick. I’m dead. You don’t need to lie to
me like you lied to everyone else. You wanted him dead, and she was a good weapon. Keep
your hands clean.”

“Jay, stop. Please. I don’t want to… You shouldn’t. You shouldn’t know-“

“Know what? How you were so turned on by it that you-”

Dick shudders. He doesn’t want this, he never wanted this, it… Why can’t it at least stop
raining for a bit? Just a bit? “Jay, please, you’re a kid-“

“Not too young to die, not too young to know” Jason smirks, and Dick can see blood on his
teeth. “What, you gonna do that whole poor lil victim act again? Pretend you didn’t want it?
That the great Nightwing couldn’t have stopped her? It might have worked great with your
friends – took them all in. But we both know you could have stopped her, right?”

Dick is already running, grappling through the skies, before he even knows he’s started to
move.

He needs to get away. He needs to outrun it. Him. He shouldn’t. He ought to stay with Jay, he
ought to be helping him.

But he can’t. Not right now. At least…At least not till it’s stopped raining. He hopes he
imagined the voice that shrieks after him “You could have stopped her!”

……………………………………………
Jason doesn’t mention Catalina again.

Dick is thankful for that. Talking about Catalina is not going to help here. This is about him
and Jason. About Jason. About helping him get the peace he’s owed.

“Tell me” Dick pleads, at last. “Jay, please tell me how I can help.”

“If you just want to get rid of me you can call Raven” Jason picks at the blood in his hair,
looking at it with interest. “That’s what you want to, right?”

He wants to call Raven, yes, but not for the exorcism. He’s not going to do that to Jay. But
maybe she can figure out how to help Jay move on…

“You were with them when I died” Jason continues absentmindedly “Did you guys have fun?
Were you laughing when that clown was getting started on my ribs?”

Dick knows he’s on the verge of hysterics because a startled chuckle forces its way past his
lips. The mission, that damned mission…

Jason looks at him coldly. Before he can answer, the boy’s figure is fading out. Again.

…………………………………….

Jason catches sight of Nightwing often enough in the past two days. He makes sure to stay
out of sight.

No more ghost sightings, till he has decided what to do. And that is proving far more
difficult than it should be in any reasonable world.

He once struggled to understand why his mother couldn’t just…just stop. When it was clear it
was hurting far more than it helped. When it was clear it was hurting Jason, too.

He loved her, he knew she loved him, so he couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t. He knew,
of course, intellectually. They all had the Just Say No campaign and DARE classes at school,
after all.

But in his heart, he could never figure out what was so irresistible.

Now, with the Green… He can kind of understand.

He knows it hurts, that letting it take over will only make things worse. But everything else
hurts as well, and at least the Green can make the other hurts go away for a while.

He wants to – needs to – call someone. But there isn’t really anyone he can call, is there?

Other than Talia, and… No. He’s not going there.

Okay. Just be mature about this.

 Dick is not…Well, not as much at fault as he was supposed to be. That doesn’t let him off
the hook. Just because he apologized, just because he seems sincere…

That doesn’t change what happened. And it most definitely doesn’t change that he did let
another kid become Robin.

But he doesn’t want to go for Dick right now. Not when the guy is clearly going through
enough of a mess of his own.

Besides, it’s Bruce who he actually needs to target. It’s Bruce who owes him – them – the
most.

So just delay it for a little while till Bruce is done with his space trip. And as for Dick…
Maybe he should keep an eye on Nightwing.

It… Really shouldn’t be natural to assume that the creepy zombie that walked into your
penthouse and started yelling at you can be and should be reasoned with.

Anyone with basic survival instincts should have pressed SOS alert the moment they saw
him. Yeah, maybe he should be keeping an eye on Dick.

Especially since the Nightwing sightings show the man as noticeably less quippy and flippy.

Another visit, maybe? And this time go easy on the whole makeup?

Maybe Dick will figure it out finally and they could have a shuffle. Would be easier than
trying to talk it through.

Jason sighs. Alright. Tomorrow. And swear Big Bird to secrecy as far as Bruce is involved.
Jason has absolutely no intention of letting the Bat off the hook.

………………………………….

“You know how you can help” Jason tells him.

Dick much preferred it when he looked grown up. This version of Jay… It hurts to look at
him. At how small he was. How young.

“I’m not sure, Jay” Dick knows his smile is…not up to par, but tries to look encouraging.
“But if you tell me, I swear I’ll do it. Do anything.”

Even if it is to kill the Joker. He will do it, if that is what Jay needs to move on. He will just
have to do it as Dick Grayson, not Nightwing.

There are ways to manage it. Do it, then turn himself in.

Bruce will be so disappointed. Tough luck.

He hopes he will be sent to Blackgate, not Arkham. Would they decide he must have been
insane to do it and automatically send him there? Never mind. That’s a consideration for
later.

“Life for a life” Jason says.

Dick nods. He expected this. All the sources he referred confirms it. A spirit that is so angry,
so lost… Especially a young spirit… They will demand blood. That is part of the risks of
following this method.

“I wasn’t supposed to die” Jason looks at him without blinking. Blood drips down into his
eyes from matted hair. He doesn’t seem to notice. “I was a kid. It wasn’t fair.”

“I know, Little Wing.”

“My life was taken” there’s so much venom in the voice, so much rage. But colder than
before. Much colder. “My life was taken.”

“What do you need, Jay?” Dick refuses to look away from him. Refuses to flinch. Whatever
Jason demands from him, he won’t flinch.

“Life for a life” Jason says quietly. “That is fair enough, isn’t it?”

Dick nods. He has been expecting this, after all. “Whose Life, Jay? The Joker?”

Jason shakes his head. Small drops of blood fall to the floor and vanish. “My life was taken
long before Joker finished the job.”

Dick feels the cold dread begin to grow, begin to suffocate him. He pushes it back with all he
has.

“My life was taken the moment he put me in this suit. My life was taken the moment you
decided to run away. And then the kid took my name. Took the life I was supposed to have”

Dick has to fight to keep his voice steady “Jay… When you say you want a life to pay for
yours…”

His little brother looks at him through glassy dead eyes. “One of you three.”

“Little Wing…”

“If you are actually sorry. If you ever cared. Otherwise, you can just call in Raven. It hurts,
but that’s not anything new to me, right? You can just call your friends. And you can keep
your hands clean again. She will do the dirty work for you. That isn’t anything new either.”

Dick tries to keep it together. Tries to think. He can talk Jay down. He is good at that. That is,
he used to be good at that.

But not now, apparently. Everything is…the past few days… God, has it been just a few days,
it feels like it has been his whole life…
“Bruce is messed up” Jay says quietly “We all know that. You knew that the best. You knew
that and left me with him.”

Dick knows he should focus. The grimoire…things Raven said when they found out what
they were dealing with… He can try to bargain…

But Dick finds himself unable to try that. It’s… Jay has a point.

Dick was the only one in the situation who was okay. Who could have made a real choice,
and chose wrong. Chose selfish.

He owes the kid. Life for a life…

It's like there’s a fog in his brain and those are the only words that keep echoing. If it will
help Jay… If it will help him move on…

And, if he didn’t agree… If he didn’t give Jay the closure he needs… What if he moves on to
Bruce? Or worse, to Tim?

Dick winces. He knows just how low Tim’s sense of self worth is. He will gladly cut his own
throat if he thought that would help his hero.

And Bruce…How long did it take for him to return from the brink? If he sees Jay like this,
hears Jay blame them…

Dick takes a deep breath. Nods. About time he took responsibility. About time he paid what
was owed.

“Alright, Little Wing.”

……………………………………………….

Dick finds himself moving like in a dream. He’s not quite in his body.

It almost feels like he is hovering beside Jay, watching his body move to the desk, write
down the notes.

Separate notes, for all of them. He needs to make it clear it isn’t their fault.

He doesn’t tell them about Jason. Can’t blame this on the kid. The kid just made him realise
what has to be done. Can’t have them blame Jay.

He’s done letting others take the fall for him. Done pretending that his hands are clean. This
is on him.

This will hurt them, he knows that. That is on him, too. All he can do right now is to do his
best to lessen that hurt. If he can.

The first note to Bruce. Clear. Precise. Like a mission report.

He knows he owes more than that, but whenever he tries more, he finds his hand shaking too
much to write.

How do you say goodbye to your dad like this? Especially when you can’t give him the real
reason?

He settles for assuring Bruce that this is his own decision, that no one else is to blame. It’s
only justice.

Justice, Bruce understands. It’s only fair. He’s…paying what he owes. That’s all.

Dick ends the note with his sign and his code. Bruce will analyse the note, every speck of ink
on it, every word.

Can’t give him reason to doubt. Reason to start chasing after whoever he will assume was
responsible, if he decides it’s a murder.

Or would it be easier if they all think it is murder? Will they feel less guilty that way or…

Just get it done.

He can feel Jay’s eyes on him, waiting. Mami and tati briefly join him. There’s even a
moment where Catalina smiles at him, telling him they all know he could have stopped her
easily if he hadn’t wanted it.

His note to Tim is longer. Mostly telling him Robin stuff, the stuff he hasn’t had time to
teach him yet. Telling him where to find the ‘secret’ caches that are almost certainly not
secret from Alfred. Telling him to keep it up with his team, with Kon.

He knows he’s annoying Jay with how long the note is getting, he’s afraid Jay might think he
is delaying on purpose, but he can’t let down another little brother.

Well, he already is. But… Okay. Can’t let him down any worse.

“You’re doing it again” Jason growls from beside him.

"Doing what, Jay?”

“Making yourself out to be the good guy. The victim. You’re making sure they will all feel
sorry for you.”

Oh. Is he? That’s not what the letters were supposed to… But maybe it looks that way. Like
every stupid teen drama where the protagonist writes the long, pathetic letters.

He thought he is trying to make them feel less guilty, but what if this makes them feel more
guilty? Like they should have noticed, like he’s some sort of victim they should have
rescued…

“You’re not a victim. You’re just paying what you owe.”

Dick nods. Okay. Okay. He’s been…getting away with stuff too long.

Once again, he’s starting to feel like he’s not quite in his body. He’s trembling, he can see/feel
that.

Stupid. Can’t have Jay think he’s backing out. Can’t have Jay think he doesn’t want to do
this. He owes him this.

Mami nods, telling him that is right. Jay keeps looking at him with cold eyes.

……………………………………….

Jason has an uneasy feeling that things are spiralling out of control.

There is no reason to feel that way. There is nothing happening right now, for heavens’ sake!

But it’s a feeling he has had before, it is the way he felt when he was on that flight to
Ethipoia, the way he felt on that ‘grocery run’ (read shoplifting expedition) he was on the day
he came home to find his mom’s body.

He hasn’t felt like this often. It’s not any sixth sense, though he once liked to think that way.
It never gave him any warnings worth listening to as Robin. (Except for Ethiopia… and that
had been easily dismissed as nerves).

But now he can feel it building once again.

It’s not exactly dread or fear, more a calm awareness that something, somewhere, is
beginning to go off the rails. Go off the rails so badly that he may never be able to set it right.

But setting things right is no longer really his game, is it? He isn’t Robin anymore, he isn’t
the good little soldier anymore.

There’s…there’s nothing for the feeling to warn him of. He keeps telling himself that. Keeps
trying to focus on his sandwich.

Maybe Bruce found out.

The idea goes through him like an electric shock. Yes. That must be it. Batman found out.
Dick finally cracked and poured out his confession to his dad

. Bruce has always been his dad, even during the worst of their fights. And he’s always
known that. Of course he told Bruce.

Or Bruce just found out, the way he always seemed to know intuitively if there was
something wrong with his real son (he has sometimes known with Jason too, but Jay can no
longer really remember what those occasions were, or how frequent).

That must be it. Bruce knows, and after testing Goldie for fear toxin or pollen or whatever,
and playing CSI on the apartment, he knows what is going on.
At least, suspects what is going on. Jason got careless.

But no. Batman isn’t back yet. He would know. He’s been keeping an eye on all Justice
League related information.

None of the others are back yet, Superman and Wonder Woman aren’t the type to keep a low
profile if they got back, and Bruce can’t have gotten back alone. He’s still out there.

So why the antsy feeling? Feeling like your gut is trying to crawl back up your throat and
out? What the hell is wrong?

He is half expecting Talia and/or a squad of ninjas to melt out of the shadows in his crappy
motel room and demand he go back to Nanda Parbat.

……………………………………….

The knife is pretty sharp.

He uses it just for cooking, and given he doesn’t cook in the penthouse often, it hasn’t had
time to lose its edge. Dick still sharpens it. He may not be able to get to re sharpen it once he
begins.

And… Well. He kind of wants this over with fast. Okay. That’s enough.

“One final email to send” he promises Jay. He can see the dented skull, the gleaming white
of bone, through his brother’s bloody hair by now. “Set it on a timer.”

One to officer Montoya. He feels bad, involving her in this.

But he doesn’t want it to be Tim who finds his body, the way he likely would if he got
worried about Dick missing the Friday night dinner and came to check on him. He’s done
that before.

He had considered just sending a mail to GCPD official, but they rarely check. And there’s
too much of a chance of Commissioner Gordon finding it first.

Jim Gordon has known him since he was eight, seen him grow up, driven him to the prom. It
won’t be fair to have him be the one to walk into this first.

Montoya… He likes her and thinks she likes him, but they aren’t that close. It should be
okay for her.

And she’s close to Jim Gordon, will be able to break the news gently to him. And he could
break the news to the family.

The email is queued to be sent twelve hours later. Long enough for this to be over, and not
long enough to risk Tim coming in for a check in.

…………………………….
Jason had no intention of visiting Dickface again so soon, but maybe he should go and get a
lay of the land.

Just in case the Bat is back. Or the Titans turned up. There isn’t really any shortage of people
Goldie can call on.

In any case, he should probably call. It won’t do to let Dick get too comfortable and dismiss
his visitation as temporary hallucination or something. He’s not getting rid of him that fast.

Anything to quiet the antsy feeling that keeps growing in his gut.

………………………………..

Better do this in the bathtub. Easier to clean up. No need to make it any messier than it has to
be.

Jay is still there. Of course he is. He won’t leave. He can’t leave. Not till they are both
leaving together.

Though Dick is pretty certain he won’t get to go where Jay is headed. At least part of the
way? Long enough to know that Jason will be alright?

“You don’t get to do this like the stupid TV show” the glare is still dead, but there seems to
be a trace of life in it.

Rage, yes, but that is better than the nothingness. Jay seems to be getting better. Even though
his body is starting to look more and more battered.

“You don’t get to make this look pretty.”

It never looks pretty.

Dick has seen enough of the…aftermaths to know that. No matter how considerate they tried
to be, it never looks pretty. Never looks like they are just asleep.

They just look dead. It’s a pretty much unmistakable look.

He hopes Tim and Alfred never see him. Not till the coroner or whoever cleaned him up. He
hopes Tim’s team will be more successful than his Titans were with him when it comes to
stopping him from hacking the crime scene photos.

Everything is kind of starting the blur at the edges, and he hasn’t even started yet.

“Do you want to do it?” he offers the knife to Jay, who shakes his head.

“It’s your job. You don’t get to hand off the dirty work again.”

“Okay…”
 It’s easier to go along with what he is told to do. He is only halfway aware, mostly retreating
to the haze in his mind.

He’s not sure where the haze came from. He can’t remember when he has last eaten or slept,
and that might possibly have something to do with it. Never mind. That’s not going to be a
concern much longer.

“You have to be honest this time” Jay orders.

He can’t remember Jason ever sounding this cold. Angry, yes, but never the cold kind of
angry. That was mostly Bruce’s thing.

“You have to let them know what this is the punishment for.”

Dick glances at the notes he has left half finished.

Jason shakes his head. “Not your drama queen lies. Not the hero game. The real reason.”

He indicates the knife. “They used to brand criminals. Used to carve their crime on their
skin.”

Chapter End Notes

*Ouch. I might have gotten a bit carried away writing the angst. But at least, this isn't
the real Jason, just Dick's fear toxin hallucination. Next chapter is gonna be Jason
suffering... You can guess how.

*I was a bit torn on how to do the hurt scenes. On the one hand I like writing hurt scenes
a bit too much, on the other this is a pretty sensitive topic... I hope the end product isn't
too nasty.

*Comments of all kinds including concrit welcome and appreciated. They're my main
motivation for posting :)
 Only One Place to Go to
Chapter Notes

WARNING: Suicide attempt, self harm, descriptions of wounds.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Dick doesn’t pick up the phone. Hmm. That’s new. Or old, rather.

Jason can remember only too clearly that last phone call he made, before…before Ethiopia.
The voice mail he left. He hadn’t wanted Bruce there, not really, but he hadn’t actually
wanted to go alone, either. Only…

He’s not picking up, for the first time since Jason came back.

Annoying. He really doesn’t like to readjust the plans. The in-person visit is still an option,
but for that he has to wait till dark.

He’s good at the whole makeup thing, but it’s a lot more effective when it isn’t light out.

Like the stupid Bat costume, which always looks ridiculous on daylight photos.

Especially the Justice League photos, where he’s flanked by a bunch of parakeet level
colourful capes and suits. Not that Bruce’s attempts to add colour has ever gone well.

Dick would never let him live down the Rainbow batsuit – and once actually made Bruce
wear it on patrol as the penalty for missing Jason’s drama club Shakespeare performance.

Even Jason wasn’t able to maintain his sulking after catching sight of Bruce in that thing.

Why the hell is he thinking of that right now, anyway? These days his memory tends to take
off down rabbit holes before he knows what’s happening. At least it’s a nice rabbit hole this
time.

Why can’t Dick pick up his phone?

……………………………………..

“Traitor” Jay says.

It hurts like hell, carving the word onto his chest.

 It should be on his forehead, criminals used to be branded on the forehead so that everyone
could see, but his hands are trembling too badly no matter how much he tries to hold them
steady.

TRAITOR.

Dick struggles to keep down any noise. He’s used to that. And it isn’t like his apartment at
Bludhaven. The penthouse walls are sound proofed.

No one will hear even if he screams. He’s not gonna do that, though. He’s not being forced
into this, he’s just…paying what he owes.

His hand was a bit unsteady, the letters are crooked. But still legible.

Legible enough, anyway, enough for a brand.

He has managed to carve it deep enough. Deep enough that it would scar, if there was going
to be time for that.

A slight, cold smile flashes across Jason’s face. They’re almost there. Almost done.

“Alright?” Dick smiles up at him.

“You know it will never be alright” Jay reminds him “But at least you didn’t chicken out this
time. Unless you’re going to, now?”

He isn’t. The knife should be cold, but it feels searing hot across his wrists.

……………………………………..

Screw it. It isn’t quite as late as he wants to wait for, not quite as late as the other visits. But
Jason can’t just sit still anymore.

That stupid warning – if it ever was a warning, and not just his nerves acting up – is not
fading, just getting worse. A trip to terrorize Dickhead some more is just what he needs right
now.

Don’t ask him for explanations, don’t give him the chance to talk. There’s more he needs to
vent with Goldie. Even if he is a bit more messed up than he expected.

Okay, maybe go a bit lighter on the makeup this time? Maybe not look so much like rotting?

After all, he doesn’t want Goldie to crack too soon and call in someone else. This is between
him and the Bats. No outsiders need apply.

………………………………………

The security systems are not on. That’s the first thing Jason notices.

What.
Okay, the other times the systems didn’t stop him, and he managed to get through without
even putting any visible damage on them. But still, completely ditching it?

Really expected less sloppy work from you, Goldie. Daddybats will be annoyed his favourite
soldier slipped up.

Jason welcomes the Green pulsing behind his eyes with every thought of Batman.

That is good. He doesn’t want to lose track of what he came to do. Dickface being a sap has
nothing to do with forgiving him – certainly not forgiving him. No kidding himself.

Even the window is open. The traps no longer deployed. Jason curses under his breath.

Then again, maybe Dick is expecting someone to come visiting? Maybe his baby bird?

That will be great. Catch two birds with one trap. And he won’t have to worry about the
Replacement getting hurt too bad, not with darling big brother over here.

Jason might just be able to indulge himself a little tonight.

Maybe let the Green out to play a little. He laughs at that idea, so maybe he has already let it
out, a little bit at least. And a little bit is all it needs.

No one reacts to the laugh. Or the crash his intentionally clumsy entrance made.

No one comes running to check. Not that Dick would, not that any Robin would, if they
suspected something was off.

No cautious silhouettes watching from the shadows or creeping closer, either.

Dick isn’t home?

But the place…somehow doesn’t feel empty. Even before he sees the notes placed carefully
on the table, Jason’s heart is pounding.

…………………………………….

For too long a moment, Jason finds himself back in a completely different apartment. In a
time that now seems both centuries and only a moment ago.

A pale figure, limp in the bathtub. Head tilted back, eyes half closed.

Flashback, Jason tells himself, though he hasn’t had this flashback for years now. Now his
flashbacks involve wild laughter, countdowns and warehouses.

This isn’t real. He isn’t seeing this. He is not. He can’t be. Not Goldie.

Ground yourself. Ground. You know how to. Focus on your senses. What you see, hear,
smell.

The Nightwing suit carelessly flung down on the bedroom floor.

A bloodstained knife lying by the bathtub, as if dropped from a limp hand.

The metallic smell of blood, too fresh blood, too much of it.

Dick, so goddamn pale, blood still sluggishly pulsing from his wrists and his chest, bleeding
scars carved into-

Jason is not sure how or when he moved from the door to kneeling beside Dick, but he is
shaking him screaming at him, telling him to wake up. Wake up and stop acting. Stop acting,
okay?

“That’s my thing. Acting. You ain’t supposed to, you can’t scare us like this, Dick, Big Bird,
please…”

The pale hand is slippery with blood in his, but Jason can feel a pulse. Weak, horribly weak,
but still there.

That, thank whatever luck they still have left, is the signal for Robin Training to kick in.

Jason doesn’t need to – and can’t – think about the next series of actions.

It is automatic. What B has trained into all of them. Emergency response. First aid. The
difference a couple of minutes can make.

There’s no time for panic attacks now, no time for anger. The Green seems to have retreated
for now, or gotten lost among the very different kind of madness that has taken over.

This is not real. This can’t be happening. But he’s still got to act like it’s real. Just in case.
Just in case.

Jason is on autopilot for most of it.

There are flashes of grabbing the first aid kit (Dick still keeps it in the same place, they all
have the stashes of first aid kits, always), of lifting Dick’s limp body out of the tub (cold, too
cold, no please no, not too late, not this time), a glimpse of the bloody word carved into his
chest (traitor, who, who dares to…).

He’s good at first aid, they’re all good at first aid, major part of the training, lots of practice.
He’s managed to halt the bleeding, dressed the wounds.

And it is nowhere near enough. Dick’s lips are tinged blue, he’s barely breathing…

Call 911…

No. Can’t. Suicide attempt, but suspicious enough to be declared a crime scene till
confirmed.

The suit, case files, notes, weapon stashes. No time to be wasted cleaning up. Too many
questions asked.
The Wayne heir attempting suicide is news. Too big a news to trust doctor patient privacy.
Staff lets things slip.

And anyway… Too much scrutiny. More scrutiny than Dick can – or should – take, if his
condition is any proof.

There’s… There’s only one place to go. There’s always been only one place. And honestly,
he can get Dick there faster than an ambulance can get here.

The penthouse is made for sneaky entries and exits, always a consideration in their line of
work.

Dick is light in his arms, too light, too small. And way too still. Dammit, he is bigger than
Dick now. Bigger than his big brother. That thought shouldn’t feel like a stab wound.

Jason refuses to let himself think about what he’s doing. If he does, he’ll freak out. He knows
he’ll freak out. He can’t…Dick can’t…afford that kind of time.

So don’t think. You don’t need to think. You know what to do. He drilled that route into your
mind too many times for you to ever miss.

………………………………….

Tim supposes he should have known. He should have suspected.

He’s supposed to be the best detective in the family. He’s supposed to notice. He should have
known. He didn’t anyway.

He wishes he could say he had at least suspected something, that he was planning to go check
on Dick or something.

But no. Too caught up in stuff. Too distracted.

He is in the Cave when Dick’s car screeches in, almost crashing right into the walls.

Tim is already on his feet, ready. Dick may drive like crazy, but it is smart crazy, like his
parkour tricks. This isn’t smart crazy driving, it’s scared crazy.

Tim may pride himself upon being prepared for anything, but he is certainly not prepared for
the sight of Jason Todd – the second Robin, the dead Robin – stumbling out of the car, eyes
wild with horror, Dick’s limp body in his arms.

“Alfred!” Jason screams, barely seeing Tim. “Alfred, help!”

The intercom in the cave is on. Alfred no doubt heard the scream. Tim still presses the
emergency button before darting to the other two.

“Bring him to the medbay”

Tim is good at keeping calm in an emergency. None of this makes sense, none of this feels
real. That doesn’t matter. He can make it make sense later.

Jason Todd, who should be dead, is alive. That’s a matter that requires considerable
investigation, but no urgent attention.

Dick Grayson, whom he last saw two days ago smiling and healthy, is lying half dead before
him. That merits urgent attention.

Fortunately, Jason follows instructions well enough despite – or more likely because of – his
dazed state.

Tim takes in Dick’s condition. Rather clumsily, but more or less effectively, dressed wounds
on the chest and both wrists. Severe blood loss. No defence wounds. No sign of having been
in a fight.

He refuses to think about the implications right now.

Even as Alfred runs down into the cave, Tim has got the IV started. “He’ll need a
transfusion. Urgently.”

Alfred’s eyes dart from Jason to Dick and back again, then he seems to make the same
decision Tim did, moving smoothly to Dick’s side.

“I will attend to it, Master Tim. Please contact Dr Leslie. And…kindly attend to Master
Jason, meanwhile.”

Okay. Okay. Call Leslie. Easy. Jason. Dammit. There’s no automatic script for this.

Leslie first. But the Leslie conversation isn’t automatic either.

They’ve called in the longsuffering doctor for multiple emergencies, but this time when she
asks what is wrong, Tim freezes up for a moment.

He wants to say he isn’t sure and hang up. Leslie doesn’t need to bring any medical supplies.
They’ve got everything needed in the cave. Alfred can tell her – she can see for herself –
once she gets here. Tim doesn’t have to be the one to tell the words.

“Tim?” Leslie’s voice softens, becomes the voice she uses with young patients. “Can you tell
me?”

“Dick…” Tim almost chokes on the words “Leslie, I think Dick tried to…Dick tried to kill
himself.”

There. The words are out. He can’t take the thought back.

“And Jason is kinda in shock or something.”

“I’m not” Jason rasps from behind him.

“Jason?!” Leslie asks.

Oh. He hadn’t gotten around to that bit of a bombshell. The dead Robin came home.

“Please get here fast, Leslie” Tim pleads, and hangs up.

Jason is still standing there, eyes locked on Dick’s face. The second Robin is covered in what
looks like very smeared zombie makeup, complete with mud and…

“Is that your blood?” Tim steps closer to check.

Jason shakes his head numbly. “Fake blood. And a lot of his blood.”

Fake blood. Stage make-up. Tim has the idea there is an interesting story in there. Not one
that he can afford the time or energy to decode right now.

“So… Want to tell me what happened?”

Jason lets out a cracked sounding laugh.

Tim nods in sympathy “Yeah, probably way too tall an order right now. ‘Kay, what happened
to Dick?”

Jason glances at him. “Found him in the bathtub.”

Despite everything, Tim was hoping this wasn’t what it looked like, that it might be a
mission gone wrong, something that just got mistaken, that they’d laugh about it later, about
the very idea Dick Grayson of all people wanted to die. Why, the very idea’s absurd…

“And…what happened to you?”

Rituals, Tim is thinking. There are rituals that can bring back the dead. None that works well,
as far as he has been able to tell, and far less reliable than something like cloning.

But that might explain it. That might explain… If Jason is back and Dick is… Maybe it’s a
ritual. And yeah, Dick dabbling in necromancy is scary, but not as scary as…this.

“Lazarus pit” Jason says quietly “I’m not all that clear just what all else was involved.”

“Recent?”

Please say recent. Please say recent, that you woke up in Dick’s apartment with him bleeding
out and pentagrams on the floor and what not.

That would make Dick idiotically self-sacrificing and reckless, but that is just…Dick. That’s
par for the course.

B will yell at him a bit and then hug him, Alfred and Leslie will give him very disappointed
looks and lectures, Jason will be furious and Tim could also be furious and they can tell him
he’s an idiot, but then it will be alright, Jason will be here, Dick will be alright…
“A while ago” Jason says, sending Tim’s runaway train of thought crashing. “I… I was away
for a bit.”

Tim goes silent after that. He doesn’t want to ask anything more. He knows he should be
helping Jason, but he doesn’t know how. He can hardly move, right now.

This is just a dream or something. Or he got tagged with fear toxin. Something like that. This
isn’t real, that’s why nothing makes sense.

He gets up to help when Leslie arrives, but she gives him a hurried hug and tells him to go
stay with Jason.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t want to be with anyone right now.

………………………………………….

For Jason, getting lost in a haze is nothing unfamiliar.

Not since he came back. But this haze isn’t green. He wants the Green back, wants to feel
angry.

At Dick, for doing this to them, to the rest of the family, for not…not fucking asking for
help. At the rest of them for not noticing.

And…Well, mostly himself. Because he knows exactly what caused this, right?

Okay, maybe not the only cause. Stuff like this don’t have a single cause, it’s rarely that
simple.

But the trigger. He knows he was the trigger. Even if he had any doubt, that bloody word
carved on his chest…that should have removed any doubt.

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you. You got your revenge. You broke him. And you
know what this will do to the Baby Bird and Batman.

He may not make it. Too much blood loss.

And even if he does, how long was he lying there, bleeding out? Enough to do permanent
damage? Will he be able to be Nightwing again? Will he be Dick Grayson again?

Shut up. Just shut up. They will save him. They will find a way to save him. They have to.
Jason is simply not going to let himself visualise a universe where they don’t.

Jason is only vaguely aware of answering the new Robin. The kid takes his pulse, does the
usual first aid checks, confirms he’s not injured, takes a blood sample, feeds it into the
computer.

DNA identification.
 There is a spark of excitement in the kid’s face when the computer confirms his identity, but
his eyes go to Dick and the excitement fades.

Must suck to be the kid. One Robin back from the dead, the other trying to-

Leslie arrives at some point not much later. Her eyes widen as she catches sight of him, but
the Batfamily’s on-call physician is more than used to rolling with whatever insanity is
thrown her way.

She checks his vitals, hugs him with a fiercely whispered “Welcome home, Jay” and moves
to Dick’s side.

There’s no time for anything else.

Jason wonders if maybe he should offer to be a blood donor. He’s O Negative, after all. Dick
is B Positive, a blood group so on the nose that neither Jason nor the Titans could resist
ribbing him about it.

He could offer to donate…

Of course, that’s stupid. There’s always enough blood supplies in everyone’s groups set ready
in the cave, plus enough O Negative to tide over a crisis worse than usual.

Besides, after Lazarus Pit and whatever the League did… Is his blood even safe to donate?

Alfred comes over, leaving Leslie with Dick.

That must mean Dick is getting better, right? That must mean he doesn’t need so much
urgent care anymore, right?

Yeah, or that they have already done what little they can for him and there’s nothing left to
try.

Chapter End Notes

*I'm a bit worried I went overboard. Did I go overboard?

*According to some canon versions at least, Jason finds his mother having OD'd in a
bathtub. So extra hard flashback here.

*Right now the Fam has absolutely no idea what to make of Jason or how he came back.
Unfortunately there isn't any time to catch up, given the situation. The next chapter will
have the team finding out what happened.

*Poor Timmy...
*Comments of all kinds - including concrit - welcome and appreciated.
 What Needs To Be Said
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

……………………………

“Master Jason” Alfred places a gentle hand on his arm. Jason doesn’t like how gentle he is
being.

“I’m sorry” Jason whispers. “I…”

I didn’t mean to, he wants to say. But didn’t he? What exactly did he mean to, anyway?
What did he want, with this stupid game?

“Dick…Is he… Will he…”

“He should recover, in time” Alfred answers, and Jason wishes he could be sure it is the
truth. “Master Tim already told me what you said about your…return.”

Huh. That happened, right? He hadn’t noticed the kid leaving. Come to think of it, he isn’t in
sight.

Alfred follows his gaze and sighs “Master Tim is likely in one of the cubicles. He…Would
likely want to be alone for a little while. Pull himself together.”

Jason feels like he’s about to break apart any moment. He ought to confess. Ought to tell
Alfred what he did. But his tongue refuses to move.

“It has been a harsh homecoming for you, my poor boy”

He lets Alfred hug him, but can’t return the hug. “Dick tried to…”

“There are traces of Fear Toxin in his blood.”

A flood of relief courses through Jason. Fear toxin. That explains it. That’s… That’s okay,
then. Dick… He wasn’t, he didn’t know what he was doing.

Jason didn’t do this. And better still, fear toxin has an antidote. An easy fix.

“The blood transfusion will flush it out of his system.”

Which would be possible only if Dick has lost most of his blood already. Jason doesn’t want
to think about that.

“You…You should go back to him, Alfie. He shouldn’t, you know, wake up alone…”
“Leslie is with him. Besides, I’m afraid he will not wake up for a few more hours at least.
The crisis is past.” Alfred hesitates “The physical aspect of it, at least.”

“But…You said it was the Fear Toxin, that he-“

“The toxin no doubt contributed to his actions” Alfred sighs “But… There wasn’t enough of
it to make him completely irrational. He was influenced, but…”

“He knew what he was doing.”

“In a way. It would be more like the level of impaired responsibility that comes with
drinking too much.”

Jason inhales sharply.

Alfred pats his shoulder. “There’s little we can do for Master Dick till he has woken up and
we are able to get a clearer idea of his…condition. Right now it is you we should be focusing
on.”

“I’m fine” the response is automatic.

Alfred smiles. He has heard that response too often in this manor. “My dear boy, you literally
returned from the dead and went to your brother, only to find him in…such a state. No one
can be fine after that.”

Oh Alfred…

This is the time to confess. Jason knows that. He ought to tell them. He owes it to tell them.
They will need to know, if they are to help Dick.

But with everything that today has thrown at him, he’s not sure he can take Alfred’s reaction
to the truth.

Alfred, Leslie, the kid… He started out vowing no collateral damage. No more dead robins.
He really thought it’d work out that way, didn’t he?

Jason wants to dig his way back into the grave. He was better left there.

“Jason?” It is rare for Alfred to drop the formal address, even with Bruce. But then again,
this has been a pretty emotional day for the man as well.

“Alfie, I’d… I’ll tell you, okay? I’ll tell everything. But… I need a bit of space right now,
okay? I can’t… Not right now.”

“Of course, my boy” Alfred’s eyes are full of compassion Jason knows he doesn’t deserve.

“And Leslie too. Not right now, okay? The kid’s run all the tests already. I’m fine – okay, I’m
fine physically. And the rest of it can wait an hour or so, right?”
“Of course. Take as long as you need.” Alfred is looking exhausted, looking old for the first
time in the years Jason has known him.

The day has been an emotional rollercoaster for everyone involved. He has no intention of
making Alfred and Leslie take another plunge down it right now.

After pulling him into another hug, Alfred moves over to talk to Leslie, who is watching
them carefully from Dick’s bedside.

Jason ducks away into one of the medbay cubicles. He will write it all out. He’s always been
better at written communication than spoken, anyway. He will write down exactly what
happened, what he did.

The way he used to file reports as Robin. The way criminals sign their confessions.

Write it all down. Give them all they need to help Dick. Then leave. Get out of the city. Out
of the country. Away from them.

He’s hurt them all enough. Stay away. As far away as possible. It will be like he never came
back. He never should have come back.

And if Batman, once he comes back, wants to hunt him down for what he did, for hurting his
real son… Well. Jason isn’t sure he will fight back.

It is with this plan in mind that he stumbles into one of the medbay cubicles. It is only after
he has sat down on the bed to write that he notices there is another occupant of the room.

The kid is curled up in a corner, hands curled around himself. Not sobbing. Not making a
noise. Just silently crying.

Jason knows what makes a kid learn to cry like that, cry without a sound. It is old instincts –
maybe not so old – that takes him to his replacement’s side.

“Kid? T…Timothy? Tim?”

“I can’t do this again” the words are barely a whisper. They manage to freeze Jason, all the
same.

Again? Again? But Alfred, Alfred acted as if he was shocked too, as if this was the first time,
as if they had no way to expect…Did he say that or was it just filling in the blanks or…

“What do you mean?” his voice goes a little sharper than intended. “Again? D’you mean…
Has Dick…before…”

The kid shakes his head. “Not Dick. Bruce.”

He heard wrong. He must have heard wrong. There’s no other explanation that makes sense.
None.

“Bruce? Are you telling me…Batman tried to…”

Tim Drake nods shakily “I mean… It wasn’t… It wasn’t as obvious as plain cutting his
wrists. He… He wouldn’t have done that. Went about it in the more roundabout way.”

“What’s… What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jason is glad he is already on the floor
beside the kid. The world seems to be tilting around him.

“He went about trying to get himself killed.”

Once the kid starts talking, he goes on. Some of the words get garbled by tears and barely
choked sobs, but the picture he paints is clear.

Batman, reckless, driving himself to exhaustion. No longer caring what happened. No longer
wanting to come home, a home that went empty in too many ways.

Mourning the only way he knew how to. Mourning, guilty and…and with no reason anymore
to keep going.

And the kid with the camera, the kid who attended the funeral of one of his heroes already,
watching the other unravel.

“He needed someone. He needed a Robin” Tim states matter-of-factly. “Dick…Dick tried,
tried talking to him…But he was hurting too, and he was grown up, he was Nightwing. He
didn’t… need Bruce to come home the way a Robin would.”

“He needed a Robin. Kid… That doesn’t mean he should get to have an emotional support
kid. No one gets to demand an emotional support kid.”

“Yeah” Tim nods. “Still, he needed one. Needed someone to need him. Besides… I wasn’t a
kid.”

“You were thirteen.”

The kid shrugs. “So?”

“So you should have been… I dunno, doing kid stuff! Being a kid! Not running around
risking your life and half getting yourself killed and…”

Timothy Drake laughs, and there’s just enough of a ghost of real amusement in it to make
Jason wince. “I’d forgotten what it means to ‘be a kid’ till I became Robin.”

Jason has the feeling that the kid is usually nowhere near this eager to talk, but right now he
is clearly doing everything he can to keep his thoughts from what he just saw.

From the image of his big brother with wrists slashed open, with that bloody word carved by
his own hand on his chest.

So he talks. Jason isn’t entirely sure the kid is aware he is talking at all, forget what he is
saying.
A kid left home alone, nannies who never lasted long enough to care, staying home alone
since nine, housekeeper to drop off groceries.

Parents too busy roaming the world to remember the kid they left behind.

Parents who would no doubt be extremely offended at the very hint that they might be
abusing their son – after all, they provided every bit of luxury the kid needed, right? What
more could a kid want.

A kid who never got to be a kid because he was born to bastards who had him just because it
was the expected thing to do.

A kid so desperate for a connection with someone that he went out at night through the worst
areas of Gotham, trailing his heroes who never knew he was there.

Hell. It’s entirely possible that the kid is actually safer as Robin than living as he did before.

“So…you… volunteered for the job?”

The kid gives a laugh that’s practically a sob “Blackmailed my way into the job.”

“What.”

“He didn’t want me. He didn’t want another Robin. Said…said pretty much the same thing
you did. That he should never have brought a kid into this mess. That one dead boy on his
conscience was enough.”

“But that didn’t stop you…”

“I couldn’t let it” Tim murmurs “He was… He was gonna die out there. I couldn’t…”

“So you…”

“I told him what I’d been doing. The photos. Knowing who he is. Everything. That I’ve been
going out there for a long while. And that I wasn’t gonna stop.”

“He…can’t have taken it well.”

“Tried to scare me away. Yelled at me. Threatened me. But it wasn’t like he could actually do
anything, could he? I swore I’d keep going out. I even got a Robin outfit put together. I made
sure he had to choose between either letting me go out with him or letting me go out alone.”

“…fuck. Kid…I think you may be even more messed up than I am.”

The boy shrugs.

“We managed to bring Bruce back from the brink” Tim says softly “It… It took a while. It
took both of us, me and Dick. We managed to, though, in the end.”

“You saved him.”

“Someone had to” there is a finality in the way the kid says the words, as if daring Jason to
argue. Then he deflates. “But… I can’t do it again. It…it took everything I had. I can’t do it
again, not even for Dick. I won’t be enough. It took me and Dick to save Bruce. And…and
now it’s Dick and…”

The kid buries his face in his hands. “I can’t do this again.”

“You won’t have to” Jason finds himself promising before his brain has caught up with his
mouth. “Not…not alone.”

………………………………………………………..

Jason does write down the confession.

If he tries to say the words, he knows he’ll get them messed up. And entirely possible one of
the others will interrupt, one way or the other.

So he writes it all down. From the beginning.

Clawing his way out of the grave. Unable to breathe, choking on the mud and roots, a
blankness that settled on his mind as his brain was starved of oxygen.

A hazy awareness of someone beside him, being taken…

The Green of the Lazarus Pit.

The old haze of brain damage retreating, only for a different kind to take its place.

Talia. The League of Assassins.

He wonders for a moment whether he should mention the child he saw with Talia, the child
with something in his eyes that reminded him of Bruce.

But that…that isn’t really relevant, is it? He has to stop himself from wandering. Stick to the
point. Stick to what they need to know.

The League of Assassins. The training.

Talia filling him in – and as he is now aware, leaving some careful blanks – on what Bruce
has been up to since his death.

Then…His plans.

He includes all the plans, discarded or not. They need to know what he is capable of. They
need to know he isn’t the Robin they lost.

And… This plan.

The plan that has led to this. The plan which drove Dick to…
By the time he’s finished, Jason’s hands are shaking too bad to grip the sheaf of paper.
Alfred takes it from his hand.

“Can I…” Jason hesitates, then plunges on “Can I stay with Dick? While you guys…read
that?”

“Of course, my dear boy” Alfred smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder “And… I know you
fear whatever is written here will change the way we feel about you, but-“

“Alfie, please. Don’t, don’t promise anything till you’ve read it. Till you know.” Know what
I am. Know what I did.

Alfred sighs. “Whatever you did, whatever was done to you…that does not change what we
all were to each other. You are family. No matter what happened, that can’t be changed.”

Jason turns away, not able to answer.

Even one day ago, he would have thrown the words back in Alfred’s face, screamed that he
is not and never was family.

He wishes he could keep on believing that. That way, their coming reaction wouldn’t hurt so
much.

That way, it wouldn’t hurt too much when they realise he is not family, after all. Family
doesn’t hurt each other they way he did.

He takes his place by Dick’s bedside.

There is something horribly wrong about seeing his brother so pale, so still.

He wants to reach out, wants to take Dick’s hand in his, but he doesn’t. he shouldn’t. Not
when he is the reason for this.

How long will it take Alfred and Tim – and Leslie too, she is still there, she won’t leave till
Dick wakes up, and he’s given the okay for her to read it as well – to read through what he
has written?

How long does he have till they come tearing in here, pulling him out of here, away from
Dick?

Will Alfred bring the gun? Does he want Alfred to bring the gun?

They need to know, though. And more importantly, Dick needs to know.

Needs to know what Jason is. Needs to know he isn’t worth mourning for – certainly not
worth dying for.

“Why the hell would you do that, anyway” he wants to be angry at Dick, but that’s kind of
impossible right now, especially knowing what is carved under those bandages on his chest.
 “Why wouldn’t you call someone. Anyone. We’re a bunch of neurotic nutcases – even the
kid is, as it turns out – but you’ve got others, right? You’re ride-or-die with like, every
freaking hero on the planet. And you couldn’t call any of them? Before…”

“…Jay?” Dick’s voice is barely a whisper, but once again, it is enough to freeze Jason. He
doesn’t want to – can’t – talk to him, not now, not after…

“Jay?” Dick opens his eyes, but doesn’t seem able to focus on anything just yet. “Is it…is it
over? Am I…”

“You aren’t dead, you idiot” Jason growls.

As always, when anger and any other emotion mixes up in his head, it’s always anger that
grabs the mic.

Dick’s eyes widen in horror as they finally take in Jason, take in where they are. “The Cave…
they found…”

“Of fucking course you were found, what d’ya think, pearly gates looks like this?”

“No…” Dick looks horrified “I… I didn’t mean to… Jay, I swear I didn’t…”

“Didn’t mean to? What, you accidentally slashed your-“

“I didn’t mean to let them find me, I swear I didn’t, I’m sorry” Dick is babbling by now, and
it is Jason’s turn to look horrified as he catches on what exactly Dick is actually apologizing
for “Please, Jay, don’t…Don’t hurt them, Tim, Tim and Bruce, please, It should be me, I’ll…
I’ll do it, I’ll make sure-“

Dick’s hands scrabble at the bandages on his wrists, as if he’s trying to tear them open again.
That is what finally breaks Jason’s freeze reaction.

“What the hell! Dick, stop! ALFRED! LESLIE, SOMEONE!”

And then they are all rushing in, but Dick doesn’t seem to be seeing any of them. He’s
practically in hysterics, somehow locked onto Jason.

Apologizing. Pleading him not to hurt the others, not to go after the others. Promising to
complete his…attempt.

Jason finds himself rushing from the room. He can’t take this anymore.

He’s not sure how much time passes before Alfred comes to find him curled up in one of the
cave’s tunnels.

“Master Jason?”

Jason doesn’t look up. He doesn’t need to see Alfred’s expression to know how…torn the old
butler is looking.
What do you do when one of your children, a child who has been hurt worse than anyone
should, hurts another like this? Whose side can you take, what balance can you find between
anger and pity and love?

“Dick…”

“We had to sedate him” Alfred’s voice is calm, seemingly untouched by any emotion. Jason
has known the man too long to be fooled by that. “Given past experiences on how he
recovers from injuries, he is likely to be more coherent once he wakes up from the sedation.
It will be better if he does not see you as soon as he wakes up.”

Jason nods.

Alfred continues. “He seems to be under the impression that you – your vengeful spirit, to be
exact – demanded his life in tribute. And threatened to take the lives of Master Bruce or
Master Tim if he did not indulge your demand.”

Jason shakes his head numbly. He knows he likely won’t be believed, that there is no real
proof he can offer. “I didn’t… Alfred, I swear I never… I was horrible to him, yes, but I
never asked, I never would have made him…”

“That particular demand might have been a fear toxin induced hallucination” Alfred agrees.
“Especially since your…description of events claim you have not approached him during the
past couple of days. And he seemed to have been seeing the corpse of your fifteen-year-old
self.”

“He…hallucinated me telling him to kill himself.”

“The Fear Toxin hallucinations end to be influenced by recent experiences. Besides…both

him and Master Bruce tends to see you while under the toxin’s influence, even without any
external influences.”

Jason is not sure just what he feels about that. He wants to deny the idea, claim that they
never cared enough for that.

That would make this so much easier. And if he said that out loud right now, Alfred may
actually fetch the gun.

“But the hallucinations never told them to…”

“If it did, they never attempted to follow the order. Mostly they tend to see you calling for
help. Or see your corpse.”

“But this time…it told him to kill himself.”

“It did.”

They just remain there, silent, for longer than Jason wants to think about. Finally, he is the
one to break the silence.
 “What…what do I do now, Alfie?”

There’s a long moment before Alfred answers “I don’t think I have ever heard you ask
another for guidance on what you should do, Master Jason.”

Jason laughs, a tinge of hysteria in the sound “Well, following my own guidance hasn’t
exactly worked out great, has it.”

Alfred sighs “There are a great many things I believe you must do, Master Jason. But to
begin with, I believe you should return home.”

Chapter End Notes

* Yeah... Jason finally gets a Non-Talia side of the story on how Bruce reacted to his
death. And realizes the Baby Bird is far from the starry eyed little soldier he has been
picturing. Of course poor Timmy is gonna spill everything - this is his Robin, his hero.
And he doesn't know at the point Jason's role in what happened. The Tim Jason
confrontation after Tim finds out...that's coming in the next chapter and won't be pretty,
lol.

*Poor Dick... He wakes up to find the 'Hallucination' back again, apparently

furious...That episode must have been terrifying for everyone concerned. He'll get to
have a more lucid talk with his Little Wing soon, don't worry :)

*Comments of all kinds - including concrit - welcome and appreciated. They're my main
motivation :)
 Brothers
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Leslie had to go back to the clinic. Emergency call. She promised to be back as soon as
possible.

Alfred is in the medbay with Dick. Not going to leave him alone, not even for a moment. Not
now.

Jason suggests that he will go upstairs and wait, out of sight, but Alfred insists just staying
out of direct line of sight of the cubicle will be enough.

It’s clear the older man does not want either of the boys out of his immediate reach right
now.

So, Jason waits.

The Cave hasn’t changed much while he was gone. Some new tech. some modifications.
Some stuff the new kid added. But basically…still feels the same. Still feels too much like
coming back home.

He isn’t sure when the kid materialized at his elbow.

“I used to dream about this, you know”

Jason almost jumps, catching himself just in time. The kid moves silent as a shadow. Bruce –
or Dick – trained him well.

Or – remember the silent crying – is it a skill he learned before Robin? A skill he had to
learn?

“About Robin. About you” Tim Drake continues. He doesn’t look at Jason, eyes darting all
over the cave. “I used to dream one day you will just be back, back in Robin colours… That
we will be out patrolling and something will go wrong and then, suddenly, you will be there,
you will save us. The first couple of months I used to pretend I could see you there, giving
me pointers. And when I was asleep and dreaming, you’d really be there.”

Jason wants to reach out and pull the kid into a hug. He doesn’t quite dare to, though.

“The dreams never explained how you came back. Didn’t matter. It just seemed…something
that’d happen, you know. Something that just happened. Of course Robin would come back.
Robin is magic.”

Jason can’t help a mirthless chuckle at that. Robin is magic. Right. Till he isn’t.
The kid looks at him, meeting his eyes for the first time, and Jason almost flinches back at the
sheer rage there. If looks could kill, they would be planning Jason’s second funeral soon.

“You should have stayed dead.”

“Yeah. Had that thought already.”

“That supposed to make me feel sorry for you?”

Jason shrugs “Nah. Just agreeing with you. Would have been a lot less complicated to just
stay dead.”

“They were starting to move on” the kid glares at the floor “They were alright, after a long
time. And you had to come back like this and…and…”

“Shake everything up?”

“I know I’m supposed to feel sorry for you” the kid’s voice is cold, eerily reminiscent of
Talia’s, in a way “You died, died a really bad death, and if everything you wrote was true,
you went through some pretty bad shit even after you came back. I know I should
sympathize.”

In any other circumstance, the phrase ‘should feel sorry for you’ would have had Jason
bristling. But right now he can’t manage much more than a weary

“I’m not asking for your pity”

“Good, because you aren’t going to get it.”

The kid’s hands are clenched, white knuckled. It looks like it’s taking everything he got to
keep from throwing a punch. Or drawing a dagger. Kid seems the type to keep one of those
hidden.

“You know what’s gonna happen now, right? You know how this is going to play out.”

“Kid-“

“Dick will forgive you. Of fucking course he will. he’s Dick Grasyon. Hell, he’s going to be
spending whatever energy he’s got left trying to convince you and everyone else that it
wasn’t your fault.”

“Freaking martyr.”

The kid doesn’t respond, but continues as if he never heard Jason “Alfred and Bruce…they’re
gonna be torn, but they love you both… They’ll forgive you too, in the end. Not as quick as
Dick will, but they will. really quick. I mean, you’re literally back from the dead. Can’t really
hold a grudge with a kid who came back from the grave – even if he did almost put another in
there, in exchange.”

Jason winces. “For what it is worth, I never meant for this to happen.”
“Yeah, and Bruce never meant for you to die. That didn’t count for you, did it?”

“…Can’t really argue against that.”

“You know” Tim sighs “I’m actually kind of glad – no glad is really the wrong word, but I
can’t really find a right one… It’s actually better this happened.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“At least it stopped. You’d just have kept going. You’d just have kept torturing them. For
daring to move on after you died. For not letting your death destroy them.”

“Is that what you think this was about?”

The kid looks at him with unflinching eyes. “I read your fucking confession. And that is
basically what is there. You’re angry they didn’t kill Joker. You’re angry there’s another
Robin. Never mind you were the first replacement, you are too special to be replaced. Never
mind you held Batman back from killing the Joker before, your death is more special than all
the people he’s killed.”

Jason thought the Green was gone, but a trace of it pulses behind his eyes now. “I just didn’t
want him pulling another damn kid in to be his little child soldier! I just didn’t want some
other kid caught up in that fucked up crusade of his-“

“Shut up.” Robin snarls.

And Jason actually does. Only for an instant, but he does. There’s so much venom in the
boy’s voice.

Jason has time to think God, how bad did Bruce screw this one up already before the kid
starts talking again.

“Child soldier. Pulled into his crusade. You know, it’s in the news every time there’s an
opinion piece. Robin is a child soldier. Batman is destroying kids’ lives by making them fight
for him. They fucking love that line.”

“To be fair, it’s a pretty sensible line.”

“Oh, sure. Perfect. Perfect for virtue signalling.”

The kid is breathing too rapidly, trying to clam down on his rage. Jason knows the feeling.

“My dad. My dad’s in the hospital.”

Jason knows. He’s picked up on that while scouting.

“If he finds out, finds out about Robin… He’s gonna stop me. Probably storm in here and
make a huge scene. And everyone will agree he’s right to do it. After all, he just found out his
teenaged son is going out in a stupid cape and tights with the masked furry neighbour to fight
psychos, right? Of course he’d be doing the responsible parent thing by putting a stop to it.”
 The kid looks furious – Jason has an idea it isn’t just him the anger is directed at anymore.
“It’s like they’re actually trying to be stupid. So that they don’t have to see.”

“See what?” Jason is pretty sure he won’t like the answer, but he has to ask.

“That Robin is safer than like seventy percent of the kids out there in Gotham.”

“What d’you-“

“This is Gotham. Gotham. Not Metropolis. No one is gonna swoop down from the sky to
save the day. This whole place is cursed.”

Not…exactly a point he can argue against convincingly. But Jason gets the impression the kid
means cursed in a more literal sense than usual.

“They can pull out all the statistics they want, how poverty breeds crime and everything, but
anyone who actually looks into it can see its way worse. Bludhaven has poverty. Hell, even
Metropolis has the Suicide Slums. None of them have the kind of things that comes out to
play in Gotham. We’ve got the Court of Owls nesting in the background, a Lazarus Pit
somewhere down there – we still haven’t managed to locate it – seeping into the water, the
harbour is so messed up from all the Joker Toxin and Ivy’s chemicals and what not that’s
been spilled into it that it doesn’t even count as water anymore, there’s a freaking bat demon
bound to the city’s soul… Gotham doesn’t play by the rules.”

Jason blinks. Okay, none of that is exactly news to him, but that’s because of the League and
the whole All-Caste mess.

Bruce… Well, it’s not that Bruce doesn’t exactly know. More like he has a tendency to go a
bit into denial when he’s dealing with supernatural stuff.

Makes him feel helpless. And that’s an emotion the big bad bat has never been good with.

He has an idea the kid found out most of it on his own – if Bruce even knows, to begin with.

“This place…” the kid continues “This place gets in our blood. Changes us. Vigilantes or
criminals or civilians… Doesn’t matter. No one in Gotham is normal. Kid or grownup.
Normal world rules don’t apply. At least… At least Robin knows to fight. Robin knows
what’s out there. Robin has at least one grown up with him who, even if he can’t always be
there, at least won’t close his eyes and pretend everything is fine. Which is more than most of
the kids ‘doing kid stuff’ out there can say. Robin is a child soldier? Well, every kid in
Gotham is living in a war zone. Robin just knows how to fight back.”

“And I thought I was cynical.”

“Don’t. don’t you freaking dare joke about it. Not after what you did.”

Jason sighs. “I know. Dick-“

“Not just him. And no, not just us. Gotham. You… Your stupid confession went on about
how you think you are doing the right thing for Gotham, that you’re saving the city… And
you start it by going after Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson. And yes, you would have started
with Bruce if he was here, and both of us know that would have gone even worse, don't we.
You'd have fucking broken him. He’d never have managed to actually talk to you the way
Dick did. And you would have gone back congratulating yourself on showing up Batman or
whatever. It’s not like anything else matters, right? Not as long as Jason Todd won.”

The kid kicks something on the floor, still glaring.

“Now you’re sorry – because you actually got to see Dick dying. With Bruce you’d never
have gotten a reaction this visceral. You wouldn’t have gotten satisfaction.”

“Kid, if you think I wanted Dick to-“

“Oh, sure. You never ‘wanted’ this to happen. It’s just that you’re a whiny selfish brat who
can’t look beyond his own nose. Ooh, my family didn’t murder someone for me, they never
cared! I read that plan of yours. Your stunt with Joker. Force Bruce into killing. Because who
the hell cares what that will do to him, right? Who the hell cares what it’ll do to Gotham once
Batman kills and Gordon can’t justify looking the other way from the vigilante stuff
anymore, right?”

“It was for Gotham!”

“Yeah, definitely for Gotham. Go take down Bruce Wayne, the guy who funds practically
every social security net Gotham has. That’ll definitely help Gotham. That’ll definitely make
things freaking better. But who cares, more desperate people, more criminals, more people
for you to shoot, right?”

“I never shot anyone!” No one in Gotham. The ones with the League… No, not going there.

“But you want to. You plan to. Because you’re convinced it’ll fix things.”

He’s not…entirely convinced of that. Not quite. Not after that talk with Dick – because…
Well. New nutcases keep popping up. Taking one down…is not as permanent as it should be.

Jason isn’t about to ditch the plan completely, but still… He is willing to give it a bit more
thought. Later. When he’s calmed down. When Dick is alright.

“Like no one’s tried that before. Some angry white boy with a Freudian excuse, convinced
he’s gonna be the ‘good guy with the gun’. We’ve had them before. The vigilantes. Copycats.
Copy bats, I guess. Staking out their territory. People scared enough to play along with them.
Playing at being protectors. It always ends with shootouts. Someone else trying to stake
territory. Someone who doesn’t like how it’s going. Most of the time, we get there in time.
But sometimes…”

The kid almost winces, then shrugs it away. Jason wants to protest that it was not going to
end that way. Not for him. He had it all planned out.

But then again… He doesn’t really have much room to argue for the solidity of his plans,
given recent history. Maybe the kid does have a point about him not being able to see far past
his own messed up head.

“Sure, you had horrible stuff happen to you, and that made you want to lash out. But you
know what? That’s true for practically everyone who’s locked up in Arkham. Hell, from what
we know, that is the Joker’s origin story. And you don’t even have the excuse of being
completely insane like them.”

Jason wants to yell something back, but what he’s not sure.

Tim sighs. “Alfred told me to go easy on you. Not to… Well. Not be like this. Till you’ve
had a little more time to get your head sorted out.”

Jason can’t help a slight chuckle. Getting his head sorted out…the way it’s going, that’s likely
to take way longer than any of them has.

“Appreciate not going that route”

That’s something the Pit hasn’t changed. Better get the worst over with. But he has the
feeling the worst is far from over as far as his dealings with the kid is concerned.

“The way I see it, as soon as Dick wakes up properly, he’s gonna be assuring you none of it
was your fault. Alfred, Bruce, maybe even Leslie, they’re all gonna be finding excuses for
you. So I’ve got to give you the harshest straight-talk I can, to make sure there’s a balanced
opinion expressed.”

Jason isn’t sure what to answer to that. The kid…does have a bit more bite than you’d expect
from your typical Robin. Probably just as well.

He shrugs “Well, at least one guy in this household has some self-preservation instincts still
working.”

Tim nods grimly. “By the way, about the no-kill rule… I prefer to stick to it because death
isn’t as reliable as it should be. And often too quick, too kind. More than some deserve.”

Huh. Jason blinks. Where…where exactly did Bruce find this kid, anyway?

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes” the kid admits without hesitation.

For someone who doesn’t even reach up to Jason’s shoulder height, he manages to make it
look way too credible.

“The others love you. They’ll want their son or brother back. But me… Well. You were my
hero. Dick is my brother. There’s absolutely no choice. You ever hurt him again, I can and
will make what Joker did to you seem like mercy.”

“…Kid. I think I’m starting to like you.”

……………………………………..
Jason has spent most of his previous life facing horrors of one kind of the other.

Starting from a drunken Willis Todd, to the sight of his rapidly deteriorating mother to the
pervs who figured a street kid is easy prey to the multitude of psychos Robin was pitted
against to the League of Assassins.

He has spent most of his life wrestling down fear. Being terrified, but going on anyway.

But this… Opening this door and going in… That is shaping up to be the most terrifying
challenge he has faced.

Alfred looks at him and nods encouragingly. Jason takes a deep breath. He owes this. Owes
this to Dick, to them all. He opens the medbay door.

“Jay?”

Dick is half sitting up in bed, propped up with pillows. Still pale, much too pale. Even after
the transfusions. And worse, looking about as scared as Jason feels.

Looking like he barely dares to believe this is real. Looking at Jason – at the guy who was
trying to break him – like his very presence is too good to be true.

That look is almost enough to make Jason turn and flee, because if there is one thing he is
certain of, it is that he does not deserve it. Not anymore.

The fifteen-year-old Robin who died, the kid whose last act in life was to throw himself
between an explosion and the woman who doomed him, yes, maybe. Not him. Not the thing
that was moulded out of that kid’s body and mind.

“Jay?” Dick calls again.

The only reason Jason manages to step forward is that he knows Dick will drag his almost-
died-an-hour-ago body out of bed to try and chase after him if he left now.

As it is, Dick does almost fall out of bed in his haste to grab Jason’s hand.

“Hey, watch it-“

“You’re real” Dick’s eyes dart all over Jason’s form, as if desperately looking for confirming
evidence.

“Alfred…Alfred told you, right?”

Dick nods, somewhat dazedly “Yes, but… Wanted to see you. Had to see you. Jay, I’m-“

“Don’t you freaking dare say ‘sorry’ again, Dickhead.”

That gets him chuckling. “You’re…you’re not mad at me anymore?"

"You better believe I’m mad at you” Jason waves a hand expressively at the bandages
“You…You just… You thought a ghost wanted revenge and you…”

He wants to snarl, but tears keep getting in the way. Dammit, this…he can’t…

Dick reaches out, somehow managing to pull Jason into the bed with him. This time Jason
returns the hug.

He’s not sure just how long they stay that way, both of them crying – Jason is pretty sure this
is the first time he cries since he came back – both of them barely able to bring themselves to
believe that the other is there.

Jason finds his hand hovering above the bandages covering Dick’s chest. Covering the
accusation carved on his flesh.

“It’ll fade” Dick says quietly “The scars… I’ve always had the scars fading pretty fast. And
we’ve got some pretty good scar removal stuff at the Titan Tower med bay. Kinda need it,
with all the messes we’re getting into.”

Jason winces. “You… You know it wasn’t… I’d never… Dammit, I guess I did, but…”

He wants to apologize, but can’t get past how hollow the word ‘Sorry’ would sound after
something like this

. “Dickie, it wasn’t… It was never your fault, you know that, right? You… You weren’t even
on the same planet and-“

Dick hugs him tighter. “Don’t. Let’s not go there, okay? Let’s, let’s just… Call it even?”

“Call it even” Jason echoes “Dammit, the kid was right about you.”

Dick laughs “What, you’ve been back home for less than a day and my baby brothers are
ganging up on me?”

Jason groans. “Dickie, you freaking tried to… Because a so-called ghost guilt tripped you…”

“It wasn’t guilt. I mean, not just guilt. I… I thought you were…your spirit was…trapped,
you know. Trapped and couldn’t move on till you got closure… It wasn’t a guilt thing.”

“Do you. Do you actually think that makes it better?!?”

“…sorry?”

“Dammit, what did I say about apologizing?”

………………………………………

It takes a little while for the elephant in the room – and no, not the freaking stuffed elephant
toy that always seems to migrate into Dick’s bed whenever he’s hurt – to be addressed.
“Bruce?”

Jason grimaces “I… Dickie, I get why he wouldn’t… What you said about the whole no-kill
thing does make sense… And the Robin thing… Honestly, can’t really blame B there.”

“Really?” Dick blinks. He was clearly expecting to have a much tougher debate about it.

Jason shrugs. “We talked. Honestly, if B hadn’t Robined him, we’d have been dealing with a
brand new supervillain in two years’ time.”

“Two years? I’d have given it two months.”

Jason pauses, contemplates, then nods. “But I’m still mad at B. Kind of. Need some
catharsis.”

“How about we play the game smarter this time?”

Both the older boys jump far more than suited to dignity.

“What the hell, brat!”

“Tim? When did you come in?”

“I was not going to leave the pair of you unsupervised, given the demonstration we got of
your self-preservation skills and common sense ratio.”

“What.”

“Timmy…”

“I already called Dinah and made arrangements for your therapy appointments. For both of
you. Starting from tomorrow.”

Jason growls. Dick whines. Tim ignores both.

“Now, you said you wanted catharsis, right, Jason?”

Jason nods reluctantly. Tim pulls out his laptop, PowerPoint presentation open.

“I’ve gone through your self-reported initial plans. I think we can tweak them. With multiple
people – especially myself, Alfred and Oracle – involved in observation and implementation,
we can make sure nothing...goes off the rails. The end result will be the unflappable Batman
making an utter idiot of himself in front of the Family as well as whichever JLA members – I
suggest Clark and Hal – we wish to involve.”

Dick blinks.

Jason frowns “We’ll include Diana too, among the witnesses.”

“Done.”
 “No casualties except Bruce’s ego” Dick declares.

“Can be arranged” Tim promises. “We’ll make it a family bonding activity. I’ve already
phoned Stephanie. Now, get a look at this…”

Jason and Dick exchange glances. “See what I said? Baby super villain.”

Chapter End Notes

* Yes, Tim is very aware of the role played by Talia in the mess. But right now Talia
isn't here and Jason is, so he's got to deal with the present threat first.

*As for the Joker... Okay, it is tempting to have his death happen in the background
preferably courtesy of Tim... But it'd feel out of place after all the talks about the no-kill
rule.

* My take is that the Joker who killed Jason is already dead. His behavior has changed
so much in canon since then that it can make sense (not that I'm particularly concerned
about canon). And no, no heroes killed him. It wasn't anything dramatic or spectacular.
Just a random crime gone wrong, a thug on the opposite side shooting him dead
unceremoniously, no one even aware who exactly was killed. But as Dick said, the
gimmick is too good to be left alone. Another guy, this one even more unhinged, has
taken on the costume. Jason can find out about it later.

*Yes, in canon Stephanie is dead - or presumed dead, after retcons - having died a short
while before the events of Under the Red Hood. Which makes it even more awful that
canon never has her fate thrown in Bruce's face by Jason, or even plain remembered in
flashbacks or something by the team. Especially given all the parallels to Jason's death -
a Robin desperate to prove their worth, going off on their own after Batman fired them,
tortured to death by a villain while Batman was distracted, everything you could want.
And Steph's death was far more Bruce's fault than Jason's was. Canon did Steph dirty.

*Couldn't have that, with the fluffier timeline I'm pulling for, and the better dad/mentor
Bruce. So Steph is fine, she's Spoiler, was never Robin because Tim never quit, and has
taken over patrol along with the Birds of Prey for the next few days while the Fam (she
is relatively a newcomer at this point, closer to Tim rather than the Batfam in general)
closes ranks around Dick and Jason.

*Comments of all kinds - including concrit - welcome and appreciated :)

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!