Chapter 1: Lay Down (Black Gives Way to Blue)
Chapter Text
"She's our best hope." Diana said, a pinched look in her eye.
Hal scoffed. "How much use can a Goddess be that no one remembers? Diana, she doesn't even have a name."
"Diana's right. She's our best hope," Clark said.
Damian scowled from where he'd taken up his post by the door. They were in a small room on the watchtower, listening as heroes ran the halls and prepared for war.
Of course, they wouldn't know of the lunacy their leaders were considering.
Of all the half-witted, poorly thought out ideas, asking an old, forgotten goddess for her blessing in the fight against an invading squadron of aliens was the most imbecilic plan he'd ever heard. Not only was the goddess a being that no one but the Amazonian princess had any knowledge on, but the plan relied on her being willing to place a protection on one Dick Grayson.
Truly idiotic.
"How do we know if she's powerful enough to place any form of protection on anyone?" Hal demanded.
"Do you doubt my word?" Diana spat, insult in her eyes.
Damian clenched his fist. Hal was correct to question her, but Damian felt his reasoning for doubt was plebian at best.
No. The problem wasn't lack of power. What if she was too powerful? Frankly, to ask a Goddess of family for protection was one thing, but not one person seemed to consider the danger of asking a possibly powerful Goddess to bless a man who didn't have any living blood relations. What if she was offended by the idea? What if she only viewed blood as family? How old was the idea of family of choice?
The consequences would be on Grayson's head.
At least Damian knew that his father would put a stop to it. Of course, he would think through the consequences of such a poor plan -
"She's right." Bruce stated.
"What?" Damian exclaimed, and several eyes flashed to him. "Father -"
"We're wasting time." Bruce sent a dangerous glance Damian's way, but Damian did not allow himself to be cowed by such a look. "This is the best option."
"I assume you will go with him?" Diana questioned.
Damian rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I -"
"You will remain here." Dick interrupted as he stepped into the room. He was decked out in his full Nightwing gear, and he was wearing a winning grin despite the fact that he was trying to walk to his possible doom without his Robin. "You're not going near that cave."
Frustration built in his chest. "But you are?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Dick said, but he gave Damian a soft look. It read I'll be fine and I need you to listen to me and I want to protect you and I know you don't like it and I'm sorry and a slew of other things that Damian simply did not want to understand. He crossed his arms as Dick stepped further into the room.
"Someone needs to go with him." Diana said. "She's a goddess of family. Her blessing will come from the strength of his familial ties."
All the more reason I should go. Damian thought.
Bruce and Dick shared a long look. Perhaps to the others in the room, it was a fast, indecipherable look, but Damian caught the pull of Dick's mouth and the tightness to his father's jaw. However, it was Bruce that said "Red Hood and Red Robin."
Damian's eyes widened.
Grayson was as good as dead.
It wasn't fair. Todd and Drake both had acted as though they mourned deeply, but Damian could not help but doubt their sincerity. Damian was mature enough to recognize that such doubt was not fair in the face of such an extreme situation, but he was also angry enough not to care. The moment Dick had returned from Spyral and answered all their prayers, the two acted as though Dick's return was a curse. Instead of being grateful that he was alive, they'd turned their backs on him.
Now they'd be the reason he returned to the grave.
"A bond of brothers." Diana said approvingly. "This will please her greatly."
This was unacceptable.
When the three of them arrived, it was in a bitter silence.
When Dick had tried to fill in the other two, Jason had stalked off to the back of the plane, and Tim hadn't waited long to follow. Dick would have insisted if he hadn't known that Bruce had filled them in. Instead, he stayed in the front and tried to ignore the pit in his stomach that had steadily grown into something just a little bitter and full of self-loathing.
They stood outside the cave, and even there, Dick could feel the air on his neck standing up. The magic inside was insurmountable.
Dangerous.
"Look," Dick said, "I know this isn't -"
"Isn't what?" Jason turned on him, eyes hard. "Isn't necessary to win? Isn't a good use of time?"
Tim said nothing.
"Jason." Dick sighed.
"There's a fucking army of those - those - whatever the fuck those things are, and we're here making sure that you have protection? Just you?" Jason snarled. "Can't have the golden boy risk breaking a nail, right? Who cares about the rest of us?"
"Jason, no -"
"Come on, Jason." Tim interrupted. "The sooner this is over the sooner we can do what we have to."
His words weren't as biting as Jason's, but Dick couldn't help but clench his jaw at the blatant disregard in his tone.
The two started to head toward the entrance, and Dick took a deep breath before following.
When Dick stepped inside the cave, he found himself squinting into the darkness before switching on night vision. The magic in the air was so heavy that Dick felt like he was breathing in water, drowning in something heavy and sacred. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The closest he could think of was Zatanna. When the magician cast her magic, he'd sometimes feel a prickle or a strange warmth that would tickle as it passed him by.
Suddenly, it was too thick. It felt like an eel pressing down his throat (like a pill, not a pill, stop), and Dick gagged, his chest burning. He stumbled before stopping, knees trembling.
"Hurry it up, Dickface!" shouted Jason, but Dick didn't have the words to reply.
A voice echoed in his mind.
Thy soul is long-suffering, gray one.
Dick blinked slowly, clutching at the air in front of his chest. Incoherent thoughts warbled through his mind, one after another, but he knew one thing. The Goddess was here.
Come further. I beseech thee.
The pressure suddenly lifted, and Dick sucked in a large breath, spots in his vision. However, he steeled himself.
There was a throne room. Rising out of the ground were stone stalagmites that rose up and twisted until they formed a throne so large that any sane human being would have needed stairs to reach the seat. With the night vision on, Dick couldn't quite see colors, but he could tell that the walls were covered in paintings, carvings, and writings in languages far too old for records.
Dick continued to survey the room when he caught Tim's gaze. He had a twisted look on his lips, but it was the slight tension in his shoulders that made Dick's big brother radar go off.
"Tim -" Dick started, but Tim turned his head away in a sharp motion that said all he needed to.
"Not now, Dick." Tim stated coldly.
"But you -"
"Just call the goddess." Jason snapped.
"I will! I just -"
Jason whirled around from where he stood, suddenly stalking toward Dick like he was a deer to be skinned. "Shut up, Goldie! Just fucking stop. What you did - That shit - You can't fucking do that shit and then act like you care. You don't. You're just a fucking hypocrite."
Jason opened his mouth to continue when the ground beneath their feet began to rumble.
YOU DARE SPEAK TO THE ELDEST THIS WAY!
The heavy magic suddenly returned tenfold, but it wasn't centered on Dick.
Jason crumpled to his knees, gasping.
Tim looked up, a look of genuine fear on his face as his breath too stuttered in his throat.
IN MY DOMAIN, YOU DARE DISRESPECT ME? YOU SPEAK TO YOUR OFFERING SUCH?
Jason bent over at the same moment Tim had to go down on one knee.
The ground shook beneath their feet again, and Dick turned his gaze toward the throne.
YOUR VERY BEING IS FORFEIT FOR YOUR FOOLISH TONGUE, YOUR DISRESPECT, YOUR IGNORANCE!
Dick threw himself down at the foot of the throne, pressing his forehead to the cool, stone ground. "It is my fault! Let me take the punishment!"
The ground stopped shaking, and Dick squeezed his eyes shut as he heard deep, gasping breaths behind him.
She'd released her hold on his brothers.
SPEAK.
Her voice still had thunder in it, but at least her ire was no longer directed at the two behind him.
Dick wet his lips, and let out a slow breath. He was all too aware of how much weight his words would carry - for better or for worse. "Their disrespect comes from my failure. It is the responsibility of the eldest to lead his brothers in how they act, is it not?"
So it is.
"Then for my failure, I ask that the punishment be mine."
Very well.
"No!"
Dick's heart dropped.
Damian dashed forward, brushing past Jason to fly to Dick.
"It is not Grayson's fault that these - these - these ignoramuses choose to act like -"
"Damian, enough!" Grayson snapped.
Damian fell silent.
"I told you to stay back." Grayson whispered.
Damian bowed his head, but when he spoke, his voice was still loud enough to be heard by all. "I did not trust them with you. I knew they would fail you."
"Oh, that's rich." Jason muttered.
Silence.
Dick shot a glance toward Damian. The boy was kneeling, his hands flat on the floor in a tense position that almost mirrored Dick's own. The idea that the boy had rushed in to save him left Dick dizzy with anxiety. Last time the boy had done that -
Last time -
There was so much blood.
Gray One, you came here as father, brother, and offering, yet you kneel as failure. Dick felt his face heat, and he clenched his hands into fists. Your child is disobedient. Your middle brother has a foolish tongue, and your youngest brother is filled with resentment. Their failings are yours. Your crime is that of inaction. It is the eldest's purpose to share their wisdom, and so that shall be your punishment. Your chance to speak is past. Now I choose.
Then his chest began to burn.
Dick choked on his cry, barely managing to suppress the noise as it felt like his skin began to burn from the inside out.
There was a little, distressed sound behind him, but Dick couldn't pay it any mind.
Now go, and stain my presence no more.
The ground beneath their feet rumbled once more, and Dick thought Thank you. Thank you.
He didn't know if she heard him, but he didn't waste time finding out. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed on tightly to Damian's shoulder, eyes scanning Jason and Tim compulsively before pressing them forward. His heart was beating hard and fast, the area around his heart pulsating as a painful reminder of how colossally he'd fucked up.
But they were alive.
That - That was more than enough for Dick.
"What the fuck, Dickhead?"
"Language." Dick murmured halfheartedly from his seat in the plane.
That was the wrong thing to say.
Jason was vibrating with anger, his muscles taught with tension. He'd pulled off the hood, and even with the domino mask on, it was obvious how much anger was there. His face was twisted into something ugly and bitter (and just a little hopeful). He looked ready to kill.
He spun on his heel and disappeared into the back.
There was enough silence that Dick thought he could slip into sleep, but Tim spoke just before he did.
"We didn't get the protection."
Dick glanced over. "That's okay."
"It's not." Tim bit out. Just a little tension slid out of him before he whispered "It's not."
"I'll be fine."
Tim didn't say anything. He didn't have to.
When the plane landed, and they disembarked to meet Batman, Dick gave him a giant smile and said "Guess who's ready to sneak onto an alien ship?"
Chapter 2: I'm Just Gettin' Back, But You Knew I Would
Summary:
He made quick work of getting in, and it was then that he started the all too slow process of finding the symbol that would start takeoff.
He'd only just found it when he felt something heavy press against his back.
Shit. Dick thought.
Another tentacle wrapped around his ankle, and he wasn't shocked when he felt a third grip onto his shoulder before practically turning into a snake as it curled down his arm to his fingers.
Well. He knew he wasn't making it out of this anyway.
Chapter Text
Dick didn't lie. He just didn't tell the truth.
There was a difference.
Of course, the main difference was how likely Batman was to catch him, but that was all semantics.
What was important was the fact that Dick just couldn't die before he achieved his objective. Without the goddess's protection, he knew he was a dead man walking. That was plain to see from the aliens.
They were jellyfish-like creatures. They were blobby and somewhat round at the top. However, their tentacles were far more terrifying. They were thick at the top and slowly slimmed down into a thin, slimy membrane. With at least nine tentacles on each one, there were too many arms to count, and the creatures were huge. They were easily the size of two men, and that was without the tentacles. The creatures floated passively until they attacked. Then their tentacles were dragging them forward in a move that would be funny if it weren't for the reaching, grabbing tentacles that would scramble a human brain with a single touch.
They were lucky J'ohn was the first victim. Martian Manhunter would make a full recovery.
A human, though? As good as dead.
Which was why Dick was the only one not to wear a full face covering.
After all, he didn't need one with the blessing of the unnamed goddess.
Dick rubbed absently at his chest, the painful spot still twinging, but he tried not to think about it. He didn't have time for that.
Instead, Dick waited until he spotted a round of the aliens leave their ship. The army of monsters heading toward the heroes was a horrifying sight, but Dick forced himself to ignore it.
There was a town down below. They needed as many heroes down there as possible to hold them off. It wouldn't be long before one of the monsters got past the barricade of Earth's defenders.
Which meant that Dick was wasting time.
Dick silently slipped onto the ramp leading up to the ship and had to do a fast dive roll to avoid a tentacle he didn't expect. Grateful the creatures didn't have sight, Dick tucked himself up against an uncomfortably soft wall as the creature he'd almost run into floated forward toward the battlefield. He took a second to breathe and then pressed forward.
Inch by inch, Dick managed to make it into the main part of the ship.
Instead of hallways, the place seemed to be made of chutes going up.
This was why he was chosen. They needed someone who could handle the alien tech and who could physically make it to their control room.
Dick readied himself, checking for aliens and letting one pass before taking a running jump toward his best guess of which chute to go in. In a lucky but disconcerting miracle, the soft walls made his assent far easier as he alternated between climbing, jumping, and flipping up the walls.
There was only one room in the chute, and Dick felt beyond lucky when it was the exact room he was looking for.
Unluckily, there was a ginormous alien there.
Softly, as not to alert the frankly disgusting the creature, Dick crept around the tentacles laying on the floor. A tentacle shifted to the side, and Dick moved into a fast summersault, landing on the very edge of a giant computer. It was then that he got to work.
Luckily, Batman had already spent a solid amount of time analyzing their tech. Otherwise, Dick wouldn't have known how different their systems were from human ones. He made quick work of getting in, and it was then that he started the all too slow process of finding the symbol that would start takeoff.
He'd only just found it when he felt something heavy press against his back.
Shit. Dick thought.
Another tentacle wrapped around his ankle, and he wasn't shocked when he felt a third grip onto his shoulder before practically turning into a snake as it curled down his arm to his fingers.
Well. He knew he wasn't making it out of this anyway.
He raced through the protocols one-handed, a single button away from the ship taking off when he felt the edge of a tentacle touch his jaw.
"Too late." Dick snapped, and he pressed the button.
The ship beneath him rocked, a piercing sound ripping at Dick's eardrums. He was knocked backwards into the creature, and Dick let out a grunt as the creature squeezed his shoulder just a bit too tight. The tentacle on his jaw slid up his cheek and over his eyes, and he thought I guess this is as good as any way to die.
Except he wasn't dead.
His back arched as burning pain rocketed through his chest. The creature suddenly released him, jolting back into a corner. Dick picked himself off the floor, turning to face it when he saw the tentacle that had been on his face burnt and smoking.
Dick grinned, wiping the slime from his face with the arm it didn't grab onto.
Thank you. he thought. Thank you.
He didn't know why the goddess had still given him her protection, but he wasn't going to complain.
He jumped out the door, clinging to the wall before scaling it further up. Unfortunately, there was no exit hatch. He pulled out a wingding and chucked it at the ceiling, turning his face away as there was a nasty blast. When he looked up, the ceiling was pulsing before it began to close up. With a mighty jump, he was able to just reach the sagging surface and use it to help him flip up onto the top of the ship.
The winds were strong, but they were only just a bit off of the surface of the Earth. Dick let out a sigh of relief, reaching for his gauntlet to call the batplane when he realized. "You've got to be kidding me."
His arm was completely covered in goop so thick that at the touch it jiggled. He tried to call the plane anyway, but it was no use.
He was stranded.
He stared down below, watching the heroes fight a couple stragglers. However, it mostly seemed to be a select few as the rest were racing toward the ship in a giant stream. It would have been an ethereal sight if Dick didn't have bigger things to worry about.
There was a strange noise behind him, and Dick turned to see three aliens had followed him above. In the lead was the one that'd had it's tentacle nearly burned off for touching him. Dick gave it a grin. "Nice seeing you again. Sadly, though, I've got to bounce. See you, uh, never?"
He prayed that the protection was as strong as Wonder Woman had claimed before stepping backward, flinging his arms out on either side, and trust falling backward thousands of feet above land.
Chapter 3: I was Stone and He was Wax
Summary:
"It turned out fine, didn't it?" Nightwing grinned.
"What happened in that cave?" Batman demanded, and Nightwing bristled at his tone.
"I got the protection. What more do you want?"
Before the tension could racket up higher, Dick felt his chest began to burn, and there was a high cry of "Red!" behind them.
The group whipped around to see Red Robin crumple to the ground.
Chapter Text
Dick had always loved flying, soaring through the air as he rose up to grab the bars, waiting hands, or even just hanging onto his grappling hook. He was made to do it.
However, falling was just as important to a Grayson.
(He grimaced, a pained smile spreading across his lips as he tried to envision his mother's smile instead of her twisted body, blood seeping through her hair.)
The wind whipped around him in an exhilarating rush, and Dick closed his eyes, enjoying the fall despite the pounding in his chest. He didn't want to look at the grotesque aliens disappearing onto their ship. He just wanted to feel.
"Nightwing!" came a distant call, but all he could hear was the wind.
Dick's ears popped, and suddenly, the fall was gone. He opened his eyes, just a little dizzy to see Superman's relieved but somewhat disapproving smile. Of the heroes down below, he was the only one who had gone in maskless (despite Batman's bitter "You don't know that you're immune").
"Oh, hey." Dick grinned. "Fancy meeting you up here."
Superman snorted. "You could have shouted for me."
"Eh. You gotta enjoy the little things." Dick replied. "And sorry about all the goop. You're probably going to need to send your uniform in to get cleaned."
"I'm not the only one." Superman shook his head, amused before flying down toward the group. "You did great. Looks like they really do treat the ship like a homing beacon."
"You doubted Batman's word?" Dick asked, mock shock in his voice.
Superman gave him an oddly fond look. "Never."
Then he dropped to the ground. Superman set him back on the ground, and Dick pulled his shoulders back, giving a winning grin as he refocused himself as Nightwing. There was a small group of heroes there. Quite a few people, namely Green Lantern and Booster Gold, were on the ground laughing and enjoying being out of battle while other heroes, spread across the battlefield, were picking through the remains. Before him were Batman, Wonder Woman, and Cyborg. A bit off from them, Nightwing could see Red Hood and Red Robin whispering with Batgirl. When some of the heroes realized he was there, they started to wander toward them.
Batman, his face entirely covered, nodded at him. "Any complications?"
"None." Nightwing said. "They're taking off, and I changed enough of the programming to more common human methods that I'm sure it'll take them a long time before they figure out how to change course."
Cyborg grinned, offering a fist, and Nightwing hit it with no hesitation.
There was a pause before Batman nodded, about to end the conversation when he was knocked to the side by a blur of movement, cape flapping behind him. Robin stopped right before he reached Nightwing, but Nightwing reached out and gave him the hug he knew he wanted anyway. After a moment, the boy pulled away, but he didn't go far, staying close to his Batman's side.
Wonder Woman removed her mask, smiling at them before Nightwing turned his gaze to Batman.
Even with the mask, he knew what the man was thinking.
"B -"
"You didn't get the protection." Batman snapped.
"Actually, I did." Nightwing replied.
"You didn't know it when you went in."
Nightwing paused, running a hand through his hair. "I can't deny that."
Cyborg's jaw dropped. "N-"
"It turned out fine, didn't it?" Nightwing grinned.
"What happened in that cave?" Batman demanded, and Nightwing bristled at his tone.
"I got the protection. What more do you want?"
Before the tension could racket up higher, Dick felt his chest began to burn, and there was a high cry of "Red!" behind them.
The group whipped around to see Red Robin crumple to the ground. Batgirl was over him in a flash, pulling up his mask to feel for a pulse on his neck. Red Hood stood next to them, gun drawn and searching for threats. The group was there fast.
"I've got a pulse!" Batgirl exclaimed.
"Cyborg -" Batman started.
"Already on it." Cyborg interrupted, scanning the former Robin. "There's . . . There's nothing wrong with him. For all intents and purposes, he's just asleep."
"No foreign bodies? No chance of toxins? Or -"
"I already checked, Batman." Cyborg interrupted. "There's nothing."
"If it's not science, then perhaps it's magic." Wonder Woman interjected. "What happened in the cave, Nightwing?"
Suddenly, all eyes were on him, and Nightwing felt that pit of self-loathing open up once more. "I . . . I messed up -"
"Oh, shut up." Red Hood snapped. "You saved our asses."
"Explain." Batman snapped, voice holding back a tidal wave of anger.
"I offended a goddess. Real shocker, huh?" Red Hood snapped. "So somehow, she got angry at Red Robin and Robin, our little stowaway, and Nightwing said he'd take the punishment."
"Then why is Red Robin the one on the ground?" Batgirl asked.
"Let's ask questions later." Nightwing said, dropping down to gather his younger brother into his arms. "Right now, we need to get him inside."
"Then what happened?"
Dick sighed, leaning against the door and sneaking another glance through the window to where Red Robin lay completely unresponsive. Wonder Woman and Batman were standing there, boring holes into Dick, Jason, and Damian. He was sure that if he hadn't put his foot down, B would have all three of them in an interrogation room, but he didn't want to be away from Tim.
(Especially not if this was his fault.)
(God, this was all his fault.)
"Then she chewed me out, and . . ." Dick's eyebrows furrowed. "She said that my punishment would be to share my wisdom, and my chest started to burn."
There was a silence.
Dick sighed. "Really, B?"
He rolled his eyes behind the mask, and without hesitation at the fact that he was standing right there in the hallway of the watch tower outside of medical where there were tons of heroes coming and going, began to unzip his suit.
There was a wolf whistle from down the hall, and Red Hood flipped them off.
Dick peeled the suit away from his chest, and everyone stopped when they got a look. Right over his heart was a symbol that seemed as though it had been burned into his skin from the inside. It almost shifted and changed shape when one wasn't looking, but the longer they looked, the more it burned their eyes. Dick looked up at the Amazonian to see a disturbed look on her face.
"That's her name." Wonder Woman said.
A momentary silence fell, and Dick quickly zipped his suit back up before anyone else could gawk at his bare skin.
"She called you her offering." Damian whispered. "She said you came as brother and offering."
Dick could tell Jason was staring at Damian, but with the hood still on, he couldn't read his face.
"Her offering?" Wonder Woman breathed. "Then . . . Then she's claimed you."
Dick's eyebrows shot up. "What does that mean?"
She shook her head. "The practice died out long before I was born."
"Great." Dick said, just a little breathless. "Well, I guess that's that."
"What?" the Red Hood said.
"There's nothing else to say, nothing else we can figure out right now." Dick said. "Research can come later - after Red Robin's tests come back, and we figure out what's going on."
"I can't believe this." Red Hood hissed. "Always running away from problems, huh, Dickface? You just want to leave it even though you've been fuckinig cursed, and Replacement is -"
"Stop it." Damian demanded. "That is the very behavior that caused all this in the first place!"
Jason turned on Damian, violence in every line of his body, before he turned on his heel and stalked away.
"Hood." Batman called, but he ignored them.
Dick sighed. "Just let him go, B."
Wonder Woman laid a hand on Dick's shoulder, eyes earnest as she said "I will speak with my mother. I'll see what I can find out about this practice."
Dick smiled at her. "Thanks."
She nodded, before walking away purposefully. Dick ruffled Damian's hair, turning to go into the medical room.
"Nightwing." Batman said.
Dick shook his head and kept going.
Batman didn't follow him.
Chapter 4: See You at the Crossroads
Summary:
"Dick." Red Robin called as the other man turned toward him. "I -"
That was as far as he got before Dick walked through him.
He didn't feel anything, not even a gust of wind. It was like he wasn't even there.
Am I dead? he wondered, staring blankly toward the window. His mind began rushing through a million possibilities, panic rising up in his chest before Dick's voice cut through the absurdity.
"I thought I heard something."
Red Robin turned around, hope rising up through him before an icy feeling went down his back.
In the front room, Deathstroke the Terminator was sitting on his brother's couch.
Chapter Text
Red Robin held his tongue as he watched Nightwing go without a full face mask into the fray. The masks were thick and heavy, difficult to breathe through and limited. They didn't have enough for everyone, and frankly, whoever went into the ship would need to be protected without it. After all, if the aliens had enough time, they could wriggle one of their slimy tentacles beneath the material no matter how tight it was to the face. It made sense to get a special protection on whoever went in. It would even allow an extra hero on the battlefield.
However, Nightwing didn't have it.
Nightwing, rather than explain what happened or try to sneak a mask, was heading in completely unprotected.
Red Robin wanted to scream. He wanted to get him an extra mask. He wanted to tell Batman. He wanted to tie Nightwing down and send him back to the cave.
Instead, Red Robin let him run to his death.
The battle was long - too long. He found himself fighting on autopilot, saying nothing even as Batgirl turned a suspicious gaze on him, her blonde hair catching the light. Their tactics began to become more and more brutal as the aliens proved themselves to be practically invulnerable. All they could do was hold them back, and it wore on Red Robin in a way that battle hadn't in a long time.
It wore on him just enough for a slimy tentacle to wrap around his middle and lift him high into the air. Red Robin struggled against the squeezing grip, but his ribs protested as it only squeezed harder. The breath whooshed out of his lungs, but then his gaze caught on something in the sky - someone.
An uncomfortably wet sound hit his ears, and Red Robin hit the ground hard.
"You imbecile." Damian hissed, a sword in hand and the remains of the tentacle on the ground as it continued to writhe despite being severed. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
Red Robin could have said many things, but what ripped out of his throat was a terrified "Nightwing!"
Robin's gaze suddenly jolted to the sky, and they both watched in horror as the man fell through a swarm of the tentacled beasts.
Red Robin felt his stomach drop. For the man to survive the ship with so many of the monsters only to die from falling off the ship was - it was unbearable. As people began to celebrate around them as the creatures began to turn away, the Bats simply watched the sky in abstract horror. Then Superman blurred through the sky, and all their fear was for naught.
Red Robin felt numbness slip into his fingertips as Superman set Nightwing down. He turned away as Robin rushed forward, barely catching a glimpse of Red Hood loosening a fist.
An elbow knocked into his arm. Even without being able to see Stephanie behind Batgirl, he could imagine the concerned eyebrow she'd have raised. "What was that back there?"
"Nothing." Red Robin muttered.
"Really? Because it looked like a death wish to me." Batgirl snapped.
Red Robin rolled his eyes, trying to push past her, but she stepped in the way. "Batgirl -"
"What is this about?" she demanded.
"Trouble in paradise?" Red Hood called, loose steps still just a bit too military to be relaxed as he came closer to the two.
Red Robin scowled. Paradise. Right. Any chance of that had been over since she had faked her death, and that still left a bitter taste in his mouth that tasted too much like blood and tears and loneliness.
He gritted his teeth as Batman's voice, just slightly heightened, reached them "You didn't get the protection."
Both Red Robin and Red Hood stiffened at the same moment Batgirl softened. "Oh."
That gentleness in her body somehow made him feel worse - more than that. He was angry.
"Stop it." Red Robin hissed. "Just stop it. I don't care what's going on with him. I don't care. Let him do whatever he wants. Let him play superspy or bat or villain - I don't care what team he's on, so long as he stays away from me."
Before he could stalk off with whatever was left of his pride, a sudden dizziness took over him. He didn't have time to react to Batgirl's attempt to catch him or Red Hood's immediate shift into defense.
He saw black.
There was carpet beneath his gloves. It wasn't heavy soil with a few blades of grass. It was musty, gray carpeting.
That was the first thing that Red Robin realized when he woke up. Not that he was alone or that he wasn't where he was last. Just that he was face down on carpet that was definitely older than he was.
He staggered to his feet, leaning against a wall for support. He was in a short hallway just barely lit by a streetlight shining through a window. Red Robin narrowed his eyes, a hint of familiarity striking him, but he couldn't quite identify where he was. Then a door swung open. Red Robin jumped back, looking for a place to hide, but he relaxed just a little when he saw who it was.
None other than Dick Grayson walked out of a steaming bathroom in nothing but a towel. His hair was wet, dripping on his shoulder. Red Robin kept his eyes off of the scars standing out so starkly on Dick's skin. It wasn't fair to stare.
They all had them.
"Dick." Red Robin called as the other man turned toward him. "I -"
That was as far as he got before Dick walked through him.
He didn't feel anything, not even a gust of wind. It was like he wasn't even there.
Am I dead? he wondered, staring blankly toward the window. His mind began rushing through a million possibilities, panic rising up in his chest before Dick's voice cut through the absurdity.
"I thought I heard something."
Red Robin turned around, hope rising up through him before an icy feeling went down his back.
In the front room, Deathstroke the Terminator was sitting on his brother's couch. His completely defenseless brother.
Red put himself between the two, but neither looked at him. He didn't risk touching Deathstroke, but he was sure that the man couldn't see him either. He gritted his teeth. If Deathstroke attacked -
Well.
"Hey, kid." Deathstroke said as if he had any right.
Dick appraised him coldly before saying "What are you doing here?"
"Can't I say hello to my favorite Bat?" he asked.
Dick gave him a look. "Your favorite?"
"Of course." said the man. "I always thought Renegade should make a return. Though as much as I like you in red, I think you'd look better in orange and black."
Red Robin clenched his hands into fists, looking between the two. He expected Dick to kick the man out or say something, but he just looked at him with something dark in his eyes. And just a hint of . . . temptation?
"Dick?" Red Robin whispered, horrified.
Then Deathstroke seemed to catch the very thing that made Red Robin's heart drop into his stomach. He stood, holding Dick's gaze.
"Think about it, kid. I've missed having a partner, someone at my back." Deathstroke said, and standing across from Dick, he looked so huge. Yet when he slipped the mask off his face, the only thing in his cold, blue eye was a grudging respect. "You were always good, and I've only seen you get better. Don't you miss being on a team? Having people who care about you? You've never done well alone, Dick. Trust me. I've been watching."
"We care." Red Robin breathed out. "We care!"
But Dick was still looking at Deathstroke silently, thinking.
Deathstroke walked around the coffee table, getting into Dick's space. Dick didn't flinch back, holding the gaze of the bigger man even in his vulnerable state.
"We could do amazing things, Renegade." Deathstroke whispered almost intimately.
Before Red Robin tried to attack him despite knowing he couldn't, Dick spoke. "You already know my answer."
Disappointment slipped into Deathstroke's face before he could hide it. He stepped back, pulling on his mask. "That's too bad, kid."
"What are you really here for?" Dick demanded, sounding every bit Nightwing.
Deathstroke waltzed toward the window. "Professional curtesy. I've got a hit tonight. You've got two hours."
Dick stiffened. "Who?"
"As if I'd share that." Deathstroke chuckled, opening up the window. However, he paused before he jumped out. "They don't deserve you, you know."
Then Red Robin was gasping awake into florescent hospital lights and the beeping of a heart monitor.
Chapter 5: You Finally Made Your Brother Cry
Summary:
"So when were you going to tell me?" Dick seethed, barely contained rage obvious in the red flush high on his cheeks. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Batman didn't even blink.
Then Dick reached into his leather jacket's pocket, pulling out a torn newspaper of all things. He slammed it onto the counter, staring hard at Batman.
Jason leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the clipping, and reared back when he saw his young face smiling out of it in black and white.
"I didn't even get to go to his funeral!" Dick snarled, and Jason -
Jason trembled. Jason stared. Jason didn't know what was happening -
Because Dick hadn't cared enough to go to his funeral.
Chapter Text
It took a single second for Tim to recognize the medical room at the watchtower. Seeing Martian Man-Hunter unconscious in the bed was the biggest indicator, but the other heroes and the set up of the medical wing itself made it obvious where he was. Sitting up wasn't difficult, either, so he could only assume he was uninjured.
However, he couldn't stop himself from freezing up after he saw who was at his bedside.
"Red! How are you feeling?" Nightwing's earnest smile hit him full on, and he . . .
He didn't know what to say. His mind was whirling, conflicting feelings and thoughts battled each other, and all he could think about was the respect in Deathstroke's naked stare. Of all people to recognize Dick, of all people for Dick to allow near him when he was vulnerable -
Was Dick still vulnerable? Deathstroke had said that he did better when he wasn't alone, and Dick had been alone a long, long, long time.
Were they the reason he was so tempted to go rogue?
Was this their fault?
"Red? Can you hear me?" Nightwing's smile slipped into something more serious, concern in the tense line of his shoulders. "Batman, we need -"
"You were gonna join Deathstroke?" Red Robin demanded, the wrong words slipping past his lips without his consent.
Nightwing's body went taught as a bowstring, and Red Robin realized how loud his voice had reverberated through the room. Heroes on other beds turned their eyes toward them, and Red Robin made eye contact with Batman where he lurked in the medical bay door way. He sucked in a breath as Nightwing silently waved away the concern and wide stares from the other heroes, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make Batman unhear what he'd said.
Nightwing let out a breath, quietly whispering "I was never going to join Deathstroke."
But you wanted to. Red Robin thought. I saw it in your eyes.
"How do you even know about . . ."
"I saw it." Red Robin said. "I saw it in a dream."
Nightwing rubbed a gloved hand over his forehead, getting slime in his hair. He grimaced. "So what exactly did you see?"
"I just told you. You don't know when he asked you to join him?" Nightwing was silent. Red Robin's eyebrows furrowed. "Wait. This has happened more than once?"
Nightwing's lips tightened into a thin line. "Look. Let's talk about this later. Right now we've got a bigger problem."
Red Robin was going to argue that there wasn't a bigger problem than Dick joining Deathstroke the Terminator when his gaze was drawn once more to the looming figure of the Batman. "Later."
"We'll have to see if it's the same with Robin and Red Hood, but if you're seeing my memories -"
"Your punishment is to share your wisdom." Red Robin breathed. "The goddess is going to show us your memories."
Nightwing's face went deathly pale, and his hand went to his chest. His lips parted, and he whispered "She's doing it right now."
Red Robin pulled back the covers and swung his legs off the ledge, but Batman was suddenly there beside them. "Stay down. The tests aren't back, yet."
"Tests won't show anything." Red Robin snapped. "She said she was punishing Nightwing, not us. It wouldn't make sense to -"
Batman glared at him so harshly that he flinched before glaring at him himself.
"B, back down." Nightwing snapped, standing up.
Batman gave him a look, and something went between them that Red Robin . . . had seen before.
He'd seen it over and over, and he hadn't paid it any attention, because his anger over Nightwing's fake death had eclipsed everything. However, there was a new dynamic to how the two acted around each other. Batman still held authority, but before, Nightwing didn't hesitate. His trust was so implicit that anyone could see it, but now -
Now, Nightwing didn't trust Batman . . . with him?
That couldn't be right. Could it?
Batman stepped back, and Red Robin could see the slight loosening of Nightwing's jaw as he turned back to face him. "Red, try to relax. We'll find Hood and Robin, and see what the situation is."
Batman stalked out of the room, Nightwing right behind him.
Red Robin looked around at the heroes shooting them questioning looks, and then he got up and ran out of the room.
No one followed Red Hood when he rushed away, and he gave a bitter smirk beneath the mask. No one had realized it as he had zetaed down to Earth and taken the Batplane for a joyride. The last location was still programed in, so it was easy work heading back to the cave. No one so much as radioed in.
It was completely silent until the plane hit the ground in a slightly rougher landing than necessary.
Then the Red Hood did something extraordinarily stupid.
He walked in.
It was just as he remembered - dark.
Red Hood walked in confidently, straight to the throne room where Nightwing had dropped to his knees and put his head to the ground like a dog. A humiliated snarl took residence on his face as he looked at the throne and called "Is anyone there?"
Silence.
"Look. I want to know what you did to my . . . to my brother."
More silence.
Frustration built in him, and he shouted "What did you to him?"
Mind your tone, Fire Heart, lest your brothers have to say goodbye to you once more.
Red Hood startled, staring around him as the cave suddenly felt full. A prickling, icy feeling lit beneath his skin, and he curled his hands into fists to stop himself from saying something he would regret.
"I want to know what you did to Nightwing. And why did Red Robin collapse?"
Something brushed along his back, and the Red Hood spun around. His body felt both warm and cold, and he could feel anxiety prickling at him before it turned into hot anger. He turned back to the throne only to jerk back as a human face loomed close to stare into his night vision camera.
Remove thy hood. She demanded despite never moving her lips, and he hesitated a single moment before he removed it.
Jason expected to be plunged into total darkness, to be taken back to that horrible moment he could barely remember when the air around him had been heavy and soft sheets beneath his hands had comforted him for a few seconds before the stark reality hit him that he'd been buried alive and -
She gently touched his forehead, and peace unlike anything he could ever remember slowed his blood and soothed his tense muscles.
Stay in this moment, Fire Heart. There is nothing for you back there.
She had a soft glow about her, and though he stared at her hard, he couldn't quite see what she looked like. Some moments, her hair shined red like Roy's while others it looked soft like his mother's had when she had tried to get clean. Her eyes were bright blue, and he thought he could recognize those bright, hopeful blue's from the way Dick looked at him when he'd finally started coming to the mansion for family dinner night -
Jason took a deep breath, and he whispered "What did you do to us?"
She smiled softly.
I did what you came here for. I accepted your offering.
"What does that . . . Was Dick the offering?" Jason asked.
Did you not bring the Gray One to me?
"We only wanted protection. We didn't . . ."
You play with things beyond your understanding. She said sternly, and Jason could hear Alfred's strict tone from his childhood ringing in his ears. He is mine now.
Jason flinched. "What does that mean?"
He carries my power, and he gifts me his heart. This is the way.
"That doesn't answer my question!"
Calm yourself. She boomed, and suddenly, it was the Batman standing before him, and green marred the edges of his vision. Insolent child. Your impudence does not bear you well. You will learn respect.
"Respect is earned! It's -"
Respect is love, and you do not see what is right in front of you. She said, voice sad as her edges faded into the too solid form of one Dick Grayson.
However, he wasn't the man that Jason had seen earlier that day. He was young - He was how Jason remembered him long ago when he was Robin. His eyes, just a little more youthful, a little more soft, sparkled. He reached out to Jason, arms outstretched, and Jason stumbled backward.
"Stop! Stop - You're not -"
"You do not know how much he loved you and still does." She said, the Dick Grayson before him speaking along with her. "You do not see what he has earned, what he has lost, and why my punishment is so harsh. But you will."
Then Dick's calloused hands cupped his face and covered his eyes.
Jason woke up abruptly, laying on one of the medical cots in the cave. He sat up slowly, feeling along his arms and legs only to find nothing wrong with him. He jumped to his feet, ready to ditch before anyone came to check on him when he heard the engine of a motorcycle. Scowling, he walked out and headed into the main area of the cave only to pause.
The Batcave was off. It was wrong. It didn't look the way it was supposed to.
However, it took until Dick's motorcycle roared into the cave to understand why.
The Batcave looked like it did in Jason's day. The only addition was his bloody suit, a standing testament to a fallen soldier. A copper taste filled his mouth, and Jason turned away as Dick - the young Dick (the Dick that sometimes in his mind he thought of as his Dick, not the grown up one that kept trying to act so mature and like he wasn't so fucking angry) stormed toward the Batcomputer where Batman sat.
He didn't so much as turn to face Dick, and Jason crept closer, morbid curiosity filling him.
"So when were you going to tell me?" Dick seethed, barely contained rage obvious in the red flush high on his cheeks. "Were you ever going to tell me?"
Batman didn't even blink.
Then Dick reached into his leather jacket's pocket, pulling out a torn newspaper of all things. He slammed it onto the counter, staring hard at Batman.
Jason leaned forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the clipping, and reared back when he saw his young face smiling out of it in black and white.
"I didn't even get to go to his funeral!" Dick snarled, and Jason -
Jason trembled. Jason stared. Jason didn't know what was happening -
Because Dick hadn't cared enough to go to his funeral. Dick hadn't gone, because he wasn't a good brother. Dick hadn't gone, because he was selfish. Dick hadn't gone, because he was glad his replacement was gone.
All those things he'd thought and ached over and had practically possessed him when he saw him with Tim and even Damian - None of them were true.
Dick didn't know he was dead.
"You were supposed to be there." Dick snarled, and there was a broken, desperate look in his eyes that made Jason vaguely sick, but he couldn't look away. "You were supposed to protect him. Where were you?"
Batman was made of stone.
Dick finally lost it, roaring in a tone Jason hadn't head since his Robin days "He's dead because of you!"
Jason reared back as the chair moved, and Batman was on his feet. A loud smack rang through the air as he hit Dick hard across his perfect jaw, gauntlet and all. Dick sprawled backward onto his ass and rolled across the hard ground.
Jason didn't see him shift back onto his back and sit up because he was too busy throwing himself at Batman -
Only to go straight through him.
The rage didn't ebb as he realized he couldn't grab him, couldn't make him regret laying a hand on Dick -
You've hit him before, too. You've shot him. A voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Shut up. He thought as Batman finally spoke.
"No. He's dead because of you." the dead tone made Jason flinch backwards, and he saw it as Dick's lips parted silently. "I checked the call logs. He called you before - He called you, and you didn't answer. If you had answered, you could have stopped this. You could have saved him. Jason would be alive if it weren't for you."
Dick looked like he was going to argue, but then he closed his mouth, leaning back, and Jason saw the most heartbreaking sight he could think of - belief.
Dick believed him.
"No." Jason snarled. "No, no, no, no!"
He stormed over to Dick, but before he could grab him, he was suddenly thrown into darkness.
All alone in the cave, Jason raged, his sight tinged green even in the complete blackness.
Chapter 6: Well, If it was Any Other Man, I'd Put Him Straight Away
Summary:
"Yeah." Nightwing agreed. "We think that the goddess is showing you all memories."
"So what I saw . . . was real?" Jason asked too slowly.
Hesitantly, Nightwing nodded.
A bitter expression overcame the man's face as if he'd bitten down on an old lemon, and he said in a disturbing monotone "I thought that might be the case."
Then suddenly, Jason was raising his gun and pointing it at Dick - except it wasn't at Dick. It was over his shoulder.
At Batman.
Bang!
Chapter Text
Nightwing knew where Robin stalked off to. As much as the boy hated to admit it, he didn't like being in the Watchtower, and every time they came up here, he either stayed close to a Bat or one of their allies. Since Batgirl said she was off to get something to eat, it stood to reason that Robin stomped off to the cafeteria to annoy her and glare at anyone who threatened to approach them. Though Nightwing hadn't interracted with him, he was pretty sure he spotted a red-haired archer as well when he was falling from the sky, so he had hope that Red Hood would be there, too.
Nightwing knew that Batman knew that, too.
So why they were going toward the elevator was anyone's guess, but Nightwing couldn't help the slight sigh that slid from his lips. Anyone's guess wasn't as good as his.
He knew what was happening when they stepped inside the elevator. He merely leaned against the wall as Batman hit the emergency stop button and whirled around to face him, glaring.
Batman stared.
Nightwing stood.
Batman stared.
Nightwing stood.
Batman stared.
Nightwing yawned.
Batman's jaw tightened a fraction of an inch.
"Look. You're going to have to start the conversation, 'cause I'm not sure what you want me to say." Nightwing said despite the fact that he knew exactly what Batman wanted him to say.
"Deathstroke the Terminator." Batman said simply.
"I know of him." Nightwing agreed, his tone passive enough to make that fraction of an inch tighten into a clear sign that Batman was gritting his teeth.
"You have a history."
"Yes."
"Tell me everything." Batman finally snarled.
"You know everything you need to." Nightwing replied. He reached for the emergency stop, and Batman's tight grip closed around his wrist. Nightwing raised a single eyebrow. "Really, B?"
"He's dangerous."
"So am I." Nightwing said, his gaze darkening. "And right now, you're keeping me from checking on my brothers."
The two stared at one another, their locked stares charged with a history that was too long and disturbing to put into words. With each second, they seemed to know exactly what one another was not only communicating but just how much was hiding underneath the surface. Finally, Batman loosened his hold on Nightwing's wrist and let his cape envelope him. Nightwing gave him an unimpressed look before releasing the emergency stop.
When they rushed into the cafeteria, side by side, Robin was sitting beside Batgirl, glaring around.
Nightwing crossed to them, eyes searching for the Red Hood and scowling when he didn't see him.
"N!" Batgirl grinned. "Did you hear anything on Red Robin?"
Nightwing smiled tightly at her. "He woke up. What about you, Robin? Not feeling any dizziness or anything?"
Robin made a tt sound. Nightwing ruffled his hair, and the boy immediately shoved his hand away.
"Do you know where Hood is?" Nightwing asked.
"Oh. You think he collapsed, too." Batgirl said, and the two younger heroes immediately went into attack mode, searching the room themselves and catching Superman's eye as he walked toward them, concern in his face but keeping his steps discretely calm.
"Let's check the security cameras." N said.
Before any of them could disappear as Bats were wont to do, Red Robin rushed in. Superman reached Nightwing's shoulder, giving him a serious but supportive look as Red Robin quietly told the group "Red Hood's gone."
"Where?" Batman demanded, and Red Robin's lips thinned.
"You're not going to like it."
"What's going on, RR?" Nightwing asked urgently.
Red Robin let out a breath and said "He took the Batplane."
"He what?" exclaimed Batgirl. "He's insane."
"We already knew that, Fatgirl." Robin taunted, and she went to give him a solid whack on the shoulder that he managed to evade.
"Enough." Batman snapped.
Nightwing sighed. "He's right. No time for fun and games right now. Red Hood doesn't like to use autopilot -"
"If he crashed . . ." Superman trailed off as Batman put a hand up to his ear.
"Oracle. Get a lock on the Batplane." The group waited with baited breath, anxiety stealing the moments away until Batman turned to them. "It landed safely at the cave."
"Not the cave with the goddess." Superman said, and silence met him.
"Let's go bring Hood home." Nightwing said, and the group rushed to the hanger bay.
With Superman's speed, they were able to board and get the ship out of the watchtower in record time, breaching the atmosphere and speeding toward the destination. Even so, the tension was thick as each second turned to minutes and then hours. Though Superman and Batgirl tried to ease the tension, it was thwarted by Batman's icy silence, Red Robin's less than subtle staring at Nightwing, and Nightwing's own attempts at chatter that were just a little too off. When they landed, the group headed out, and as Superman went to walk off the ship, Batman stood in front of the doors.
"Stay."
"But I -"
"No, Clark. Stay out of this." Batman hissed.
However, before he could stalk off, Nightwing was there. "We don't have time for this, B. Superman loves Jason. He is family, and you won't get in his way."
Instead of staring down the Batman, the younger vigilante simply stalked off the plane, and Superman's jaw dropped as Batman gave him one last stare before stalking away. The Batman had given in far too easily . . .
"You noticed it, too?" Red Robin asked quietly.
"Do you know what's going on?" Superman asked, but the teen simply shook his head and continued into the sunlight - right into chaos.
Jason was sitting in front of the cave when Nightwing stepped off the ship, and he found himself stopping short. The man's hood was sitting on the ground next to the rock he was perched on, and his eyes were bloodshot. His face was pale, making the freckles that they could normally overlook stand out sharply. There was a gun in his hand.
Nightwing stepped forward. "Jason . . . ?"
His eyes flashed as he stood. "So I saw something. I saw . . . I saw something."
"Yeah." Nightwing agreed. "We think that the goddess is showing you all memories."
"So what I saw . . . was real?" Jason asked too slowly.
Hesitantly, Nightwing nodded.
A bitter expression overcame the man's face as if he'd bitten down on an old lemon, and he said in a disturbing monotone "I thought that might be the case."
Then suddenly, Jason was raising his gun and pointing it at Dick - except it wasn't at Dick. It was over his shoulder.
At Batman.
Bang!
Nightwing turned horrified eyes back to see Superman standing before his mentor, bullet in hand. A breath of relief slipped past his lips even as Batman's posture shifted into that of a fight.
"Jason -" Superman started, but Jason cocked the gun again, eyes wild.
"Move."
Nightwing stepped in front of the gun, arms raised as nonthreateningly as he could.
Jason's grip on the gun tightened. "Get out of the way, Dick."
"I can't do that, Little Wing." he said softly.
"Step aside before I make you." Jason snarled.
"Jason -" Red Robin tried, stepping forward, but a completely mad look came over the older Robin's face, and Red Robin couldn't help but think of his days early on when replacement was said with spite and thinly veiled threats of violence.
"Let's talk about this, okay?" Dick said. "Jason -"
"I don't want to talk!"
"I know, Jason. I know." Dick said softly. "But I need to know what you saw. Please?"
There was a stand off, long and quiet. No one was willing to interrupt it lest Jason try to shoot Nightwing, but finally, Jason spoke.
"He hit you." Jason hissed. "He hit you so hard you hit the ground. He could have broken your jaw."
Nightwing blinked, eyebrows furrowing. "You saw -"
"Batman hit you!"
Suddenly, there were shocked and narrowed eyes turning toward Batman. Though Superman kept his eyes on the gun, even his form was taught with anger.
"I'll kill him."
"Jason -"
"Shut the fuck up, Goldie!" Jason roared. "He hit you, and you're still here vying for his attention like a good dog and - and - He didn't even tell you I was dead!"
There was a sharp intake of breath, and Nightwing carefully didn't look to where Batgirl, Robin, and Red Robin were watching to the side. "You're right. B didn't tell me you were dead. He let me find out on my own, and - and he did hit me."
Jason tried to step to the side to get a better angle, one without Nightwing's head in the way, but the man moved with him, staying surely between the barrel of the gun and the Batman. "Get out of my way."
"Jason . . ." Dick said softly. "You need to understand what things were like."
"Like hell I do! Nothing excuses hitting your son!" Jason snapped, and a wounded look came into Dick's eyes.
"You're right. It's not excusable." Dick agreed, voice careful. "But that's not all there was to it. You were dead, Little Wing - Jason. You were gone, and for me, it was . . . I found out and stormed over, but for B . . . he was the one that found you. He buried you. He was there, and he didn't handle it well. Every day, he got more and more violent - I thought he was losing his mind. That day, I crossed a line, and then he hit me. It's not excusable, but it was understandable, and I forgave him for it. Neither of us were in the right frame of mind to have that conversation. That conversation never should have happened at all, and I'm sorry, because . . . that day, your death was more about our problems than you, and you're more important than that. I'm sorry, Jason."
The gun trembled in his hand, and Jason wavered. When his eyes shifted past Nightwing towards his target, Nightwing struck.
He grabbed for the gun, twisting it toward the side where none of the heroes were and breaking Jason's grip. The gun clattered to the rocks below, but before Jason could grab for it once more, Dick rushed forward -
Pulling his brother into a hug.
Jason struggled hard, but Dick held on tight before both of them were sliding to their knees. Jason was limp, exhausted, and Dick clutched him tightly.
"Would you still say the same thing if it was one of us?" Jason whispered, and Dick tensed. "Would you say it was understandable if Bruce broke my jaw? Or Cass's? Tim's? Damian's? Steph's?"
"He didn't break my jaw." Dick stated.
Jason pulled back, and Dick let him. "Fuck off, Dick. Just . . . Just fuck off."
He stumbled just a bit, almost drunk, and disappeared into the plane without a single glance at Batman. Then Nightwing stood, looking at the younger Bats and giving them a nod. The small group headed inside the plane, and Nightwing walked up to Superman who still looked furious - though not at Nightwing.
"I'll take him home." Superman said simply.
Nightwing felt his shoulders droop. "Thanks, Clark."
Superman gave him a soft smile, placing a firm but comforting hand on his shoulder. "Remember. If you ever need anything, you can just ask."
Nightwing nodded, heading past him. Batman simply looked at him, saying nothing.
There was nothing to be said.
He walked onto the plane, setting the autopilot when Stephanie dropped into his seat, pulling her mask off entirely. "You said you forgave Batman."
"Steph -" Tim hissed from where he and Damian sat (without Jason), but he didn't deter her at all.
"You didn't say he apologized." she said sharply.
Nightwing bit the inside of his cheek before turning to face her with a slight grin. "You know B. He never apologizes."
The group lapsed into silence.
What else could they say?
Chapter 7: Let's Let Him Make His Own Mistakes
Summary:
Alfred sat heavily beside Dick. Dick blinked, staring into the older man's deep eyes. "Alfred?"
"We do not have long before young Master Damian returns, so listen very carefully, Master Dick."
Dick nodded.
"Stop saving your brothers."
Dick blanched. "But Alfie -"
Chapter Text
When they arrived back at the cave, Batman still hadn't returned. Instead, Alfred stood at the bottom of the stairs. As they made their way inside, he gave a stiff but warm smile. "I see your mission was a success."
Nightwing grinned. "It went off without a hitch."
Red Robin scoffed.
Nightwing's grin fell just a bit as Alfred's stare bored into him. "Okay. Maybe there was a hitch, but it wasn't bad."
Red Hood stalked off the plane, shoulder knocking angrily against Nightwing's and shoving past Batgirl without a word. He couldn't look at Alfred, instead disappearing into the showers.
Alfred raised an eyebrow.
Nightwing sighed. "Okay. It was . . . It's pretty bad. I don't know how we're going to fix it."
"And what, pray tell, is "it," Master Richard?" Alfred questioned.
"Yeah. I've been wondering what exactly is going on, too." Batgirl said.
Nightwing sighed, peeling off his mask and wincing at the stickiness he could feel around his eyes.
"Whenever you are ready, Master Richard." Alfred said with a distinct air of explain right this second, young man.
Dick looked up at them. "So we needed someone on the inside of the ship who could change the alien programming in their ship. That meant it had to be a bat, but since the aliens fly, Batman felt that I would -"
"Yeah, yeah." Stephanie interrupted. "We all know why you were on the ship, and we all know how important it was that you get the protection from the goddess. What we need to know is what happened after that."
Dick hesitated. The extra time explaining was gone, and so was the time he wanted to spend coming up with a vague but believable reason that the goddess would be angry without throwing his brothers under the bus -
"Jason and I offended her." Tim interrupted Dick's spiraling thoughts. "More Jason than me."
"Naturally." Steph agreed as Alfred gave a longsuffering sigh.
"Oh, my boy."
"Anyway, Dick told her that he would take the punishment, and she cursed him, but she also gave him the protection." Tim continued clinically, but Dick could see the minute clench and release of his hand.
"A curse, Master Richard?" Alfred asked, and there was a gentler note in his voice that made Dick's heart pound at the same time that his tight shoulders finally relaxed.
"Yeah, Alfie." Dick said. Alfred pursed his lips at the name, but he didn't correct Dick. "She's . . . She's, uh, showing them my memories. Tim and Jason already saw, but . . ."
A lump formed in Dick's throat as Steph threw him a pitying look, and sudden anxiety crept up his spine. Would his memories only be shown to Jason, Tim, and Dami, or did his curse extend to the rest of the family, too? As bad as Dick could see it being for Steph or Cass or god forbid Babs to see in his head, his blood chilled at the idea of Batman being inside of his head.
"Oh, dear. I believe that calls for tea. Chamomile, Master Richard?"
Dick breathed out a sigh. "Yes, please."
"Then get changed and come along." Alfred stated.
Dick blinked, momentarily startled, before going to do as Alfred said. Damian followed alongside him, a silent shadow - far too silent.
"What's going on, Little D?" Dick asked.
Damian made a tt noise and didn't answer. Dick ruffled his hair, and Damian smacked his hand away. However, the scowl on his face was overexaggerated, and Dick knew without a doubt that it was hiding the hint of a smile. The two of them began to change when Damian spoke oddly cordially.
"Grayson, are you in need of medical assistance?"
Dick blinked, glancing down at himself. He expected Damian's eyes to trail on his chest where the goddess had laid her claim, but instead, the boy's eyes were trained just to the side. There were long, twisting bruises down his arm, and his shoulder was mottled with colors. He could even make out a couple of suckers from the alien's massive tentacles imbedded in blues and purples in his skin.
That would explain the ache. Dick thought.
"Grayson?"
"Nah." Dick said smoothly as he swapped the short sleeve top he was going to wear with a sweatshirt. "It doesn't even hurt."
Damian gave him a tight look, but he nodded. It was together that the two took to the stairs and made it to the kitchen. Alfred gave the two a look, the kettle already on the stove.
As Dick took a seat, Alfred made a "hmm" noise. The elder gentleman turned his rapt eyes on Damian. "Master Damian, it seems I've left the tea try in Master Bruce's office. Would you get that for me?"
Damian blinked, eyebrows raising for a moment, but he nodded and turned on his heel.
After his footsteps disappeared into a heavy silence, Alfred sat heavily beside Dick. Dick blinked, staring into the older man's deep eyes. "Alfred?"
"We do not have long before young Master Damian returns, so listen very carefully, Master Dick."
Dick nodded.
"Stop saving your brothers."
Dick blanched. "But Alfie -"
"I do not mean when you are out in the night or in a fight." Alfred interrupted. "I mean that you protect them from growing. My dear boy, you have done more for them than Master Bruce, and I am proud of you for that, but there are times you go too far. When you protect them from the truth, from hurtful words, from reality itself, you take away their chance to grow."
Dick sighed. "What if I don't want to face the truth, either? The truth has consequences, Alfred, and I don't want things to change more."
"They have already changed."
"Yes, but what would it do to . . ."
A pained look entered Alfred's eyes. "What it does to Master Bruce is of little consequence. What right does he have to your silence when truth would free you?"
"Still . . ."
"Richard." Alfred said gravely, and Dick's eyes jumped up. "I know he hurt you, and though he won't admit it, he knows as well. I have watched since you returned to us, and the way you have made yourself into a shield between him and the rest of our family - Whatever he did, he must face it. I'm afraid that habit is my fault. I never made him face losing his parents. I never made him face the people he hurt. I felt losing them was punishment enough, and it is only now I see my folly."
"That's not fair." Dick said. "You were a new parent of a traumatized child overnight."
"And while I am proud of Master Bruce in some ways, in other ways, I am incredibly heartbroken." Alfred stated. "I protected him from things I shouldn't have the same way you are protecting those boys. It's time for both of us to let them grow up."
The two shared a smile, but after a moment, something haunted Dick's eye.
"I know Tim and Jason are ready, but Damian -"
"I only advise you on how to handle your brothers. Damian is not your brother, and you know it." Alfred stated simply, a knowing gleam in his eye.
Dick felt a warmth in his chest, smiling oddly fondly at the memory of the goddess of family claiming him to be Damian's father. He'd thought of the boy as his own for a long time, but it was something he'd told himself over and over again that was not reality. Bruce was Damian's father. There wasn't room for him at the table. However, the goddess of family acknowledging it . . .
Alfred's gaze raised to the door, and his face fell.
Damian was standing there, a flush high on his cheeks, but his expression was cold as stone.
"Damian, come sit. The tea is almost ready." Dick said before frowning. "What's wrong?"
"There is nothing wrong, Grayson." Damian said hotly, dropping the tea try and all that was on it on the table with a loud clatter. "Since I am clearly not needed here, I will be going elsewhere."
Dick stood, reaching for the boy's shoulder, but Damian jolted away in a second, a knife in hand.
"Master Damian!" Alfred exclaimed.
"Damian, there are no weapons in the manor, remember?" Dick said.
"Why should I listen to you?" he snarled, grinding his teeth. "We are not blood. Clearly, you are not my brother or -"
He snapped his mouth shut, and Dick's eyes softened. "Damian, no. You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly!" Damian snapped. "Do not follow me or I will remove your hands."
With that, he stalked away. Dick gave a heavy sigh, rubbing his face hard.
His phone buzzed, and he glanced at it. He groaned at the alert that one Mr. Freeze was terrorizing a cancer research facility.
"Will you be going downstairs, my boy?" Alfred asked blankly.
Dick opened his mouth, but in that moment, burning pain shot through his chest. The undeniable truth shot through his mind in a single word. Damian.
"No." Dick said. "I'm going to go find my son."
Alfred smiled at him. "Very good, sir."
Chapter 8: A Parent Smile is Made in Moments
Summary:
Damian scowled, looking away. He felt . . . He felt like an intruder. He didn't want to be here, staring into the eyes of a dead man and stealing the memories his mentor had kept tightly locked away in his mind. It was too close - too personal. He wanted to be on the streets safely hidden behind a mask and draped in mystery. He was a hero, not -
"I'm not a kid!" Dick cried. "I'm a performer."
Damian's eyes snapped back to the scene before him.
Chapter Text
Grayson knew Damian's spots. He knew where Damian went. If it were father, it would be easy. Father never looked for him, but Grayson always came running like a golden retriever or a black lab. Sometimes it took him some time, but he always came.
Even when I don't want him to. Damian thought bitterly.
So instead of taking the long corridor down to the library and climbing the highest bookcase or slipping away into the unused rooms deep in the manor's unused corners, Damian went to the one place Grayson surely wouldn't think to look for him.
Grayson's room was woefully clean unlike those days long ago where he'd been Batman and Damian had been his Robin. The bed was made perfectly. The only true mark of Richard Grayson was the Flying Grayson's poster hanging above the bed and the multitude of framed pictures that were scattered everywhere else. Damian kept his eye on the faded poster as he sunk down onto the bed.
When Mary and John Grayson had met their untimely demise, they'd left a hole in their son's life that Damian couldn't quite understand. He could understand his father's pain perfectly well. It was a hole of grief and obsession, something Damian had been intimately familiar with during his time in the League of Assassins. His Grandfather had many reasons for his attention to the detective, but Damian knew that respect and awe was a minor part of it.
Obsession recognized obsession. Bruce had looked into the pit, and Ra's looked back.
However, Grayson was different. He didn't live in his thoughts, in the old memories, or even in the what ifs. He'd always been right there beside Damian.
At least, he'd thought that.
Damian turned his back on the poster. There was nothing there for him anyway.
(Even if in the most secret part of himself, he'd dreamt of swinging on a trapeze with his hands stretched out towards Grayson. As he leapt from his perch, his body twisted into a flip - once, twice, three times. Grayson let out a joyful laugh as Damian's hands clasped his, and down below the elder Graysons, now just beginning to go gray, clapped.)
There was only Batman and Robin.
He was already gone by time his head hit the pillow.
There was straw digging into his cheek. Damian huffed, pulling himself to his feet and blinking at the dim light. He was in some kind of wooden enclosure inside of a massive tent. Though he couldn't see outside of it, he could easily hear heavy breaths of something far bigger than he was. He turned around, and his eyes widened at the creature behind him.
There was an elephant. She (Damian was certain she was a she) wasn't a baby, but she very clearly wasn't full grown. She was laying down, her trunk resting on something against her side. Damian walked around her, a part of him secretly hoping to spot a baby elephant.
Instead, he stopped in his tracks to stare at a frankly tiny Richard Grayson. His eyes, sparkling blue, betrayed him. He had to be Grayson. Yet instead of bright eyes and a daring grin, his cheeks were stained with dried tears.
Right.
Damian knew that the others had seen . . . something from Grayson's past. However, he'd gathered from when Todd had attempted murder and Drake's stony stares that they were terrifying, traumatic memories. This . . . This didn't look traumatic in any kind.
"Dick." came a gentle call, and Damian whirled around, automatically dropping into a crouch.
A man walked into the enclosure, and Damian blinked. The man looked so much like Dick that it was startling. He was taller and thicker, but he had the same sharp jawline, the same soft expression, and he moved with the confidence of a man who had looked death in the eye and made a friend. His dark eyes caught on Dick and softened.
"Dick?" he called, and Damian was surprised at just how close Dick's voice was to his father's, because there was no way he wasn't standing before John Grayson.
"Go away." Dick said with a little lip wobble.
"I'm not going to do that." John said, taking a seat against the elephant as well.
Awkwardly, Damian sat on the hay, unwilling to stand above them.
"Talk to me, Dickie bird. What's going on?" John asked.
Dick crossed his arms, unwilling to look at his father.
A long-suffering patient look came over the elder Grayson's eyes, and Damian immediately recognized the look. How many times had he seen Nightwing look at Todd that way?
(How many times had that look been aimed in his direction?)
John gave him a little nudge. "Alright. You don't want to talk. I hear you. How about this? I talk and you listen."
Dick didn't say anything, laying one of his hands against the elephant's side.
"You've grown a lot in your skills over the last year. Your mother and I are really proud of just how far you've come. We never thought you'd be able to do a triple summersault this early. But that doesn't change the rules. You can't join the act until you've worked with us with nets for at least two years."
"But Dad!" Dick finally cried, and Damian startled.
"No." John said. "I'm sorry, Dickie, but you don't have the experience behind you that your mother and I have."
"I've been on the trapeze since I was a baby." Dick complained.
"And how many times did you fall?" John asked. Though there was no bite to his voice, both Dick and Damian flinched.
"That's not fair." Dick whispered, eyes filling with tears.
"I'm sorry, Dick, but I'd rather be unfair than see you get hurt."
Damian scowled, looking away. He felt . . . He felt like an intruder. He didn't want to be here, staring into the eyes of a dead man and stealing the memories his mentor had kept tightly locked away in his mind. It was too close - too personal. He wanted to be on the streets safely hidden behind a mask and draped in mystery. He was a hero, not -
"I'm not a kid!" Dick cried. "I'm a performer."
Damian's eyes snapped back to the scene before him.
"Dick, you are a kid, and you're far more than a performer." John said, and he pulled the child into his lap. "You're a Grayson. You're clever and funny, and you can make friends with anyone. You're our little Robin. Performing isn't who you are, kiddo. It's something you can do and do well."
"I . . . I . . . But I still want . . ."
"I know." John said. "But you still have to wait to join the main show. However, your mother and I have been talking with Haley, and we've come up with a compromise. If you keep up with your schoolwork, you can work with us. We're extending our act. Our trapeze show without the nets will be the big finale, and we'll have a more safety-conscious act beforehand that you can be a part of."
"Really?" Dick whispered.
"Really." John agreed.
"So I can . . ."
"Your mother's working on your costume right now."
Dick threw his arms around his father's neck, and Damian huffed out an angry breath.
"Why tease me with something I can't have?" he hissed.
There was no answer before darkness took over his world.
"Damian?" Grayson's overbearing voice interrupted Damian's fuzzy world. Grayson was sitting by his side, leaning over him with the overly concerned eyes of a grandmother.
"How did you locate me?" Damian demanded, sitting up and immediately shifting away from the older man. Grayson's eyes sparkled, and Damian decided right then and there that he didn't want to know the answer. "Leave me be."
"I'm not going to do that, Dami." Grayson said, and Damian stared at him.
(He looked so much like John Grayson, and he didn't even know it.)
"Look. You don't have to speak. I just want you to listen for a moment. Can you do that?"
Unwilling (unable) to speak, Damian nodded.
"You walked into the room at the wrong moment, kiddo." Grayson said. "Alfred and I were talking about - about something I need to work on. When you came up in conversation, I know how it sounded, but . . . The truth is that you're not my brother, Damian."
Damian swallowed. "I understand -"
"I look at you as my son."
Damian's lips parted just a little. A million thoughts and racing ideas rushed through his mind, but he kept himself seated, stiff and regal despite the impulse to fling himself at the older man. Instead, he looked Grayson in the eye and managed to say "I will refrain from bringing weapons into the manor."
Grayson laughed, and Damian felt a small smile grace his lips before it fell once more.
Damian shifted closer. "I feel I must admit that I saw . . . I . . ."
Damian looked at the poster, and Grayson breathed out an "Oh."
"John Grayson was . . . He was a good father." Damian said.
Grayson let out a soft breath. He ruffled Damian's hair, and the boy didn't shift away. "He was. He would have loved you."
Before Damian would have had to figure out what to say, his phone vibrated. He pulled it out and glanced down. "It's Mr. Freeze. We need to go."
"No. I'll go. You should rest." Grayson said.
Damian nodded, mind slipping back to the goddess's anger when he'd appeared in the cave despite Grayson's command to stay back. And Grayson was the one who paid for it. "Very well."
Grayson stared at him for a moment before standing. "I'll see you when I get back."
Damian watched him walk out the door, footsteps falling silent down the hall in a way that John Grayson's footsteps never had.
Chapter 9: Where Life's River Flows No One Really Knows
Summary:
"I said give it back!" Freeze roared, and he just barely managed to get a hold on the gun before Nightwing could dodge away once more. The two went back and forth, neither willing to release their grip. Nightwing had just managed to get the upper hand when his heel caught black ice, and his eyes widened as he slipped backwards. Freeze followed him down, pressing the gun against the vigilante's throat with a crazed look in his eye.
"You're not keeping me from her!" He exclaimed.
"N!" Red Robin cried as he just managed to free Hood, but before either could do anything, the falling snow froze in place. The air seemed to solidify into something solid, something physically present. Freeze stumbled back, dropping the gun. The freeze gun had partially melted, looking more like a warped toy than anything of value let alone a weapon, and Nightwing . . .
Chapter Text
Red Robin's gut clenched before they even left the cave. Frankly, it hadn't unclenched since Jason had tried to murder Batman, since he'd stood powerlessly between one of the most dangerous mercenaries to face the League and his brother, since Dick had dropped to his knees to appease the goddess and begged to take Tim's own punishment, his lungs burning and eyes streaming with tears-
(God, I don't want to think about that -)
All that to say that Red Robin knew before they even reached the cancer research facility that this battle wasn't going to go well.
"Hurry it up!" Red Hood hissed.
"I'm trying!" Red Robin snapped.
He was trying.
(He wasn't succeeding.)
Red Hood's boot was frozen to the ground. While he'd managed to dodge to one side before he was frozen solid, he hadn't managed to save his boot from becoming part of a grotesquely beautiful ice statue spiraling upward from the asphalt. Red Robin knelt beside the sharp crystals, trying to melt the ice in vain.
Heavy footsteps slowly stalked forward, and Red Robin knew exactly who it was by the tightening of Red Hood's fists.
"Go." Red Hood said.
Red Robin shook his head, simply trying to will the ice to fall away.
"Stop being a fucking idiot, replacement." Hood snarled. "Move it."
"Shut up. You're distracting me." Red Robin mumbled, his breath ghosting out in front of him.
"Get the fuck out of here." Red Hood grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to push him aside, and Red Robin flailed for a moment, the tool in his hand swiping Red Hood along the side. Hood let out a pained noise, and Red Robin flinched. "That's hot!"
"Yeah! That's the point." Red Robin said through clattering teeth.
"You're wasting time."
"I'm trying to make sure you keep your toes!"
"I'm trying to make sure you keep your life!"
"And I'm trying to make sure you stay out of my way."
Red Robin spun around, staring Mr. Freeze in the eye as the man prepared to shoot the huge freeze gun mounted on his shoulder. Red Robin quickly thought through the possibilities, and with each thought, his face grew more grim. If he dodged out of the way, Red Hood would still be hit, frozen alive. If he tried to charge Mr. Freeze, he wouldn't be fast enough to get the gun from him. He or Red Hood would still be hit.
There was one option.
Red Robin stood his ground in front of Red Hood, heart pounding.
Then a shape bounded out of the darkness, flipping over Mr. Freeze's huge form and grabbing the gun by the barrel. The gun shot uselessly into the air, and after a moment, snow began to fall on the fallen form of Mr. Freeze as he crashed into the black ice beneath him with a cry.
Nightwing turned to the two former Robins with a grin. "No time to freeze up there, Red."
Red Robin rolled his eyes, but his shoulders slumped in relief.
"Give that back!" Mr. Freeze exclaimed.
"Finders keepers, Freeze." Nightwing said.
Red Robin gave a relieved laugh, beginning once more to unfreeze Red Hood's boot.
"I'm surrounded by children." Red Hood muttered.
"I'm older than you are!" Nightwing called, affronted.
"Only physically."
"I said give it back!" Freeze roared, and he just barely managed to get a hold on the gun before Nightwing could dodge away once more. The two went back and forth, neither willing to release their grip. Nightwing had just managed to get the upper hand when his heel caught black ice, and his eyes widened as he slipped backwards. Freeze followed him down, pressing the gun against the vigilante's throat with a crazed look in his eye.
"You're not keeping me from her!" He exclaimed.
"N!" Red Robin cried as he just managed to free Hood, but before either could do anything, the falling snow froze in place. The air seemed to solidify into something solid, something physically present. Freeze stumbled back, dropping the gun. The freeze gun had partially melted, looking more like a warped toy than anything of value let alone a weapon, and Nightwing . . .
Nightwing wasn't there.
A woman slowly pulled herself to her feet, platinum blonde locks spilling around her. She was draped in ice like a winter goddess, sparkling despite the darkness. Her form was regal and thin, something dark and cruel hiding beneath her fantastical form. However, when she looked up, her eyes were soft and warm. She looked at the villain kneeling before her as if he had personally hung the moon and sun.
"Nora." Freeze whispered.
Red Robin shot a look at Hood, but with his face covered, he couldn't see what the older man was thinking. However, he was certain that he recognized the touch of the goddess hanging tightly around them.
Nora smiled thinly, waving her hand, and Mr. Freeze fell to his knees.
"Nora." he whispered again.
"Is this what I would have wanted?" she asked, and though her voice was soft and sweet, it echoed like thunder. "Tell me, Victor. Should I be proud of you? Should I be grateful to you?"
"Nora . . ."
Nora approached his kneeling figure and reached for his helmet. He didn't even try to stop her from opening the glass that kept him alive. Yet when it slid away, he was exactly as he was. She placed her hands on either side of his face before giving him a gentle kiss like an offering.
A parting gift.
"Do not lose what made you mine in your pursuit to salvage what is lost." she said before whispering something in his ear, something sacred - something not meant to be heard.
Suddenly, the air thinned once more, and Nora was gone.
In her place was Nightwing's confused form. He stumbled back, pulling his hands away from Freeze as if he'd been burned. Red Robin breathed out a tense breath, but just as he relaxed, Red Hood began to run. Red Robin looked up, startled, watching almost in slow motion as Nightwing's body went limp and dropped to the ground.
"Nightwing!"
Chapter 10: Their Father's Hell Did Slowly Go By
Summary:
Clark let out an angry breath, stronger than he meant to in his anger. Bruce's cape blew just a bit as Clark hissed "You hit him."
Bruce said nothing.
"Bruce, I understand -"
Suddenly, it was the Batman rearing on him, not Bruce, snarl on his face. "Don't talk about what you don't know."
"You're not the only one who mourned Jason!" Clark cried. "You're just the only one who's still mourning him."
Chapter Text
"Bruce -"
A cutting glare immediately shut down the conversation.
Clark Kent had always known when to push and when to pull back. He'd always been a good-natured man, bright and easy to talk to. With a cheesy grin and just a little bit of farm boy charm, he could make friends with almost anyone. With that ability had also come the ability to know when someone was ready to talk and when someone wasn't.
However, Bruce would never be ready.
That was the thought that whirled about his mind as he intentionally took the Batman home far slower than necessary - slow enough to have a million conversations rather than the poignant silence that chipped at Clark's good demeanor bit by bit.
Clark could just leave it be. He could drop off the other man and leave him to it. He could say it was family business, and he could pretend it was fine.
But then he thought of Dick, young and full of laughter and free in a way that Clark missed. He thought of Jason when he was less bitter and jaded, sneaking cigarettes and somehow thinking that Clark couldn't smell it on him a mile away (literally). He thought of Jason looking haunted and sick, snarling "He hit you." He thought of the wounded, exhausted slope of Dick's shoulders.
He thought How did it ever get like this?
The image of Bruce, spitting with anger, overwhelmed with grief, and his arm broken by Clark's own hand, came unbidden to his mind, and he had to breathe out a swift breath.
He knew when everything went wrong. He knew exactly when everything went wrong.
As he landed on solid ground, he almost turned on his heel, thinking He's suffered enough.
But so had the boys.
"You're following me."
Bruce's voice was carefully emotionless, empty of anything Clark could use.
"We need to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Bruce -"
"Get out of my cave, Clark."
Clark squared his shoulders. "Not until we talk."
"There's nothing to talk about."
Clark let out an angry breath, stronger than he meant to in his anger. Bruce's cape blew just a bit as Clark hissed "You hit him."
Bruce said nothing.
"Bruce, I understand -"
Suddenly, it was the Batman rearing on him, not Bruce, snarl on his face. "Don't talk about what you don't know."
"You're not the only one who mourned Jason!" Clark cried. "You're just the only one who's still mourning him."
Bruce jerked back as though slapped.
The two stood there for a moment, tension and hurt loud enough to buzz almost audibly.
Clark sighed into the thick air. "I'm sorry."
Bruce narrowed his eyes.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you when you needed me." Clark said, eyes earnest and shining. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to step in. I'm sorry I wasn't there for Dick. I'm sorry that I wasn't here for Jason's return. I'm sorry I stayed away so much. I'm sorry I wasn't as involved in Tim and Damian and Stephanie and Cass's lives as I could have been. I'm sorry I let you lose your son and a friend. But that ends now. I'm going to be here. Every time you have a hairbrained scheme, every time you start to shut down on them, every time it gets too hard, every time you're tempted to -"
He cut himself off, but both of them felt the words hurt them in the ensuing silence.
"You have your own family."
"You're my family, too." Clark stated, and Bruce seemed to freeze up, staring. "I'm not leaving again."
Though Bruce was completely still, Clark could hear his blood rushing through his veins and the fast beat of his heart. He wasn't offended in the slightest when the other man turned on his heel and stalked into the cave. He knew the man had reached the boiling point, needing to think.
That didn't stop him from following on his heel, only stopping when they made it into the cave and spotted Wonder Woman herself, a cup of tea warming her hands.
"Diana." Bruce greeted without a single hint of emotion in his voice.
She nodded at them in greeting. "I've spoken with my mother. I have something you'll want to hear."
Bruce strode toward her, footsteps harsh and swift.
Diana went to speak once more when the roar of a motorcycle echoed through the cave. Bruce and Diana looked unperturbed, but Clark was immediately on guard. He could hear the speeding of hearts, panting breaths, whispered pleas, a prayer -
"Something's wrong." Clark warned them just before two bikes sped into view.
Red Robin was in the lead, swinging to a stop that could easily have turned into an accident with just how fast and rough he hit his breaks. He stumbled off his bike just as Red Hood came to a stop, though a more careful one than he usually used. Red Hood didn't move, instead hanging on to the slumped figure sitting in front of him, completely lax.
Nightwing.
As Red Robin ran to the bike, helping stabilize Nightwing while the Red Hood got off the bike, Batman's voice rumbled "What happened?"
That broke Clark's momentary shock, and in a second, he was prepping a bed in the medical area. Red Hood shot the Batman a sharp look, grabbing Dick and shoving past the dark knight. Diana reached Clark swiftly just as Alfred appeared at the top of the steps, the click of his stiff jaw loud as thunder to Clark. He was there beside them by time Red Hood had too gently laid the unconscious figure down on the white sheets.
Alfred instantly took his wrist, deactivating the shock mechanism and peeling back the glove. As he pressed his fingertips to the heartbeat and began to count, he gave Red Hood a sharp look. "Injuries?"
"None." Red Hood stated.
"Then how did this happen?" Diana asked.
"The goddess." Red Robin replied, holding back from the group despite the intense gaze he held on Nightwing. He went to say more before side-eyeing the Batman and falling silent.
By that point, his mask had been removed and tossed gently aside. Alfred peeled back Nightwing's eyelids on one eye, shining a flashlight against the pupil.
It was that moment that Nightwing gasped, other eye opening just as wide. Alfred released him, pulling back the flashlight as he sat up. He sucked in breaths in deep heaves before coughing a little and looking up. He gave them a half-hearted smile. "I see it's a real party. I'm glad I could make it."
Red Hood scowled at him, and Red Robin managed to crack a tiny smile. Clark was the only one to give him a real laugh.
Nightwing gave him a grateful smile before spinning on the cot, his legs dropping to the floor.
"Master Richard." Alfred intoned with a severe look.
Nightwing gave a heavy sigh. "Yeah, okay, Alfie."
He stayed seated.
At that moment, Batman spoke once more. "Report."
Nightwing scowled, and a spark of suppressed anger flashed through his bright blue eyes before being hidden so thoroughly that Clark wondered if he had actually seen it at all. "The goddess possessed me. There's your report."
"Nightwing -"
Batman started to approach when suddenly, the Red Hood blocked Nightwing from sight. Though his mask hid his face, every muscle in his body radiated violence. "Take another step, old man."
Hood's hand inched toward his gun.
"Am I missing something here?" Diana asked the room, narrow eyes zeroing in on Clark of all people.
Nightwing huffed out a laugh, suddenly looking much more like Dick Grayson again, and Clark couldn't tell if it was real or not. He wondered when he'd stopped being able to tell when Dick was faking. "It's just family stuff. You know how that goes."
She gave him an amused smile. "Well, then, I'll let you all get to it, but first, you and I should talk."
Immediately, all the present bats' attention was suddenly on her.
"I'm ready when you are."
"I spoke with my mother. What she had to say was . . . well, disappointing. Sparse. But it is something, and I hope it helps you." Diana said, and Dick nodded encouragingly. "The goddess is of family, but she was also a goddess of love and wisdom. She had many temples where her chosen lived. They were much like priests and priestesses, but unlike other gods, we know that she chose people with families - usually mothers."
"No change there." Tim teased, but his words were too tight and only made the tension in the room rachet up higher.
Diana continued as if he hadn't spoken, saying "Full families lived in her temples, but it was rare she chose more than one chosen in each family. Now, my mother also said that when she chose a person, that they carried her power. I assumed this to mean the protection, but my mother implied that the powers were far stronger. Unfortunately, that was all she was willing to tell me."
"That's okay, Diana. I'm pretty sure I have an idea of what those powers are anyway." Dick said, his patient smile falling just a bit. "Thank you. I appreciate you going to your mother."
"Of course, Dick." she gave him a soft, lenient smile, and Clark sucked in a breath.
Diana was a force of nature. She was strong, powerful, and oftentimes, ruthless. She was an avalanche of a woman that Clark never wanted to meet on the battlefield. It was easy to forget that she'd been there in the beginning, giving Dick soft looks and sweets when he'd first appeared in his scaly underoos.
"I'm afraid I can't stay longer, but if there's anything I can do -"
"I won't hesitate to call." Dick said with a winning grin.
With just a hint of regret and a soldier's march, she was gone, her empty cup of tea left on the bedside table.
"I've got to check on Damian." Dick announced, standing. He glared hard at Batman, but it was Tim that blocked his path.
"Are you sure you're ready to go upstairs? I mean . . ."
"I'm fit as a fiddle." Dick said, but his voice was strained.
"You sure, princess?" Red Hood said, equal parts callous and concerned. "Landing one on Mr. Freeze certainly took you out."
As Alfred's eyebrows raised, Dick seemed to whirl on him. "Don't."
"Relax, Goldie."
"Jason -"
"It's not like there was any damage done -"
"There was to me!" Dick snapped, anger ratcheting up swiftly and suddenly before he went ice cold. "I'm going upstairs."
Everyone got out of his way, watching his back retreat as he snatched his mask off the bedside table and headed to change. It wasn't until he was gone that the Red Hood scoffed. However, it was Tim that said "We're missing something."
"Like what?" Clark asked.
"I . . . I don't know." Tim admitted. "You saw it, though, right? The way he tensed up when you teased him."
All eyes went to the Red Hood. "You think he's a crossdresser or something?"
Tim scowled. "I think he's hiding something. I think -"
Whatever he thought was lost when his knees went weak, and both he and Red Hood slipped out of reality into the least blissful of memories.
Chapter 11: There's a Noise in His Head, and He's Out of Control
Summary:
"Just being with you, silly." Mirage said, giving the hero before her the same look a mother might give a two-year-old. Jason's hackles only raised. "In the future, you and I were a team. We had each other. We didn't need anybody else. Certainly not her."
An ugly look came over her face as Nightwing roared in a tone Jason hadn't heard since his Robin days "What are you talking about?! Maybe you are as crazy as the others. Look, I don't know about any future 'us.' Hell, I don't even know you!"
She turned partially away, but Jason could all too clearly see the smirk on her face. "You certainly seemed to the other night."
There was a ringing in his ears, because -
Because -
Chapter Text
Jason had barely opened his eyes before he hissed out "shit" and immediately rolled underneath a slab of broken concrete for cover.
The world was in chaos. The area looked like an earthquake had struck it. Metal beams stuck out of the ground, rubble littered the earth, and there were broken bits of wall and concrete . . . everywhere.
Of course, that was not to mention the literal gleaming giant in the sky. Her (oddly familiar) voice echoed around and through Jason's very bones despite the fact that he was hidden from the winds and the open air. He pressed a hand against the slab above him and took a breath.
He knew he was in a memory. He knew there was absolutely no chance he'd passed out in the cave and woken up in a warzone. However, it didn't stop his instincts from screaming at him that he needed cover if he didn't want to be crushed or attacked.
Before he could climb out, the voice above practically screamed "Now!" Then there was the feeling of an almost sonic boom, the air around him decompressing. Carefully, he climbed out of his hiding spot, glancing around just in time to see a giant flash of red hair zoom into the sky after the thankfully gone goddess.
Nightwing's hand was outstretched toward her, crying out "No, Kory -- Don't! Kory!"
Jason almost snorted at his suit despite his brother's tense cry when he found himself face to face with a predatory grin and gleaming black eyes. Something within him stopped him, though, as she crooned "Oh, let her go."
Jason scowled, about to walk past her when suddenly she was on his brother. She hit him with enough force to knock him off balance, something Jason would call a feat if her arms weren't wrapped around his back, pressing her chest into his. She wedged a thigh between his legs, pressing it against -
Jason went oddly cold.
"After all, you don't need her. Not with me around to help you."
"W-What --?" The genuinely baffled look on Nightwing's face twisted into fury. "Hey!"
He struggled for a moment, but he managed to break her hold on him, pushing her away roughly with a "Miri . . . Err, Mirage -- Cut that out!"
Jason placed himself as a firm wall beside Nightwing. He wished for a desperate moment that he was really here, that he could stand between them like a buffer, because there was no way he was here for the fun of it. This was only going to get worse - just like the last memory. Before rage could set in again, Nightwing hissed "What the hell do you think you're doing!?"
"Just being with you, silly." Mirage said, giving the hero before her the same look a mother might give a two-year-old. Jason's hackles only raised. "In the future, you and I were a team. We had each other. We didn't need anybody else. Certainly not her."
An ugly look came over her face as Nightwing roared in a tone Jason hadn't heard since his Robin days "What are you talking about?! Maybe you are as crazy as the others. Look, I don't know about any future 'us.' Hell, I don't even know you!"
She turned partially away, but Jason could all too clearly see the smirk on her face. "You certainly seemed to the other night."
There was a ringing in his ears, because -
Because -
What the fuck?
Nightwing's lips parted, confusion too clear on his face, but revulsion slowly, horribly took over his features as she said "Remember, that was me disguised as Kory. If we weren't meant to be, seems to me you should have sensed the difference."
"What kind of fucking rapist logic is -"
Jason was cut off by a sharp laugh as she said "Guess that means no 'midnight olympics' tonight!"
Nightwing's expression completely went blank. Though there was a scowl on his face, Jason could see it as Nightwing seemed to swallow down and compartmentalize his fucking rape. He knew that expression too well, and he could imagine those blue, blue eyes going dead as he hid somewhere deep in his head, using hot anger as a guise to hide the numbness.
And Mirage - She was still grinning, laughing -
"Dick, you slut!" Jason jerked backwards, shock visible on his face as he stared down a furry woman in a disarming mask with fiery hair. "So tell me, who was better? Huh? Huh? Huh?"
Nightwing turned that cold expression on her, hands clenching into fists, and Jason's stomach dropped as he snapped "Back off, Pantha! You know I love Kory."
Jason turned, and there were people - people he didn't really know - people he had dismissed when he'd zeroed in on Nightwing, and -
"Fuck." Jason hissed, because this wasn't just a trauma, a discovery that his body had been taken from him without his knowledge - This was a public humiliation.
Jason opened his eyes in the cave, chest tight. He was grateful there was no one there to witness him lay there and stare blankly at the ceiling.
Well, almost no one, but he clearly wasn't in any state to see anything.
Tim laid there on a cot next to him. Though someone was kind enough to remove his helmet, no one had the decency to pull down Drake's hood.
That's gonna suck. He thought, about to leave him like that, but he imagined Dick's disapproving frown and sighed.
Jason swung his legs over and walked over to the other Robin only to stop short.
There were tears dripping down from beneath his cowl in a thick stream.
A sick part of Jason wondered what he was seeing, but the rest of him reared back from even the thought of a memory that could reduce the replacement to crying in his sleep. Jason was oddly careful as he pulled down the hood and did his best to use the pillows to make sure it wasn't too uncomfortable at his neck. He took a quick moment to try to wipe some of the tears dripping down his face, but they just kept coming.
Jason was glad he took down the cowl. That would get uncomfortable quick -
But his hands were shaking. There was something under his skin, and when he closed his eyes, he saw black eyes and a whisper of You should have sensed the difference -
He grabbed his helmet and stormed to his bike.
Roy opened the door with a yawn, sweatpants and the drool on his shirt obvious indicators of what he'd been doing before Jason had rapped harshly on the door.
"Is Lian here?" Jason asked.
Roy blinked. "Oliver has her for the night."
Jason nodded, and then he landed a hard punch on Roy's chin. The redhead stumbled back, a hand coming up to hold his jaw.
He looked up. "Shit, Jason. What -"
"You told me Dick cheated on Kory." Jason snapped.
"Yeah?" Roy demanded, glaring at him.
Jason shook his head. "He - He -"
A concerned frown took over the irritation, and Roy opened the door wider. "You should come in."
It was almost surreal for Jason to follow Roy to his kitchen. The other man grabbed an ice back from the freezer and pressed it to his face, turning around to give Jason a considering look. He nodded to the table, and Jason sat heavily, mind whispering No midnight olympics -
"Alright. Out with it."
Jason's eyes snapped back to Roy. He said nothing.
A bit of impatience slid into Roy's expression, but his words were calm. "What about what I told you?"
He's better now that Lian's back. Jason thought absently.
"Jason -"
"You told me Dick cheated on Kory."
"Yeah. 'Cause he did." Roy said.
Jason shook his head.
Roy frowned. "Did you talk to Dick?"
Jason said nothing.
"Jason, look." Roy sighed. "You weren't there."
Jason's temper flared once more. "No, you weren't there!"
Roy startled, dropping the bag of ice from his face. "How do you -"
"If you were there, you would know he was raped!"
The color bled out of Roy's cheeks. "What? But Kory said he slept with her, because she looked like . . . like Kory. Fuck. She was a shapeshifter. Why didn't I -"
"They blamed him." Jason said. "Called him a slut."
Roy stared at him. "Have you talked to Dick about this?"
Jason shook his head. "I can't - Not right now."
Not when he could hear her voice in his ears, making him as sick and dizzy as a concussion, and definitely not when the anger was so thick in the back of his throat that he thought he would choke on it -
"Jason -"
"Why weren't you there?" Jason roared, or at least, he tried to. Instead, his voice broke into something ragged.
Roy looked down. "The Titans - They were in trouble. I was trying to get them out of it."
"They looked like they could've used you where they were." Jason snapped.
"You weren't there." Roy hissed. "They were in trouble with the government. People were turning on them, okay? I was doing everything I could, and Dick wasn't - I guess that makes sense. He was - defensive. On edge. I was trying to help him, and he thought I was trying to - to fuck him over."
"No wonder." Jason managed. "Everybody else did."
Roy stared at him blankly.
Jason felt something cold enter his chest.
"He told me once that - that he couldn't imagine sleeping with someone he didn't love." Roy murmured. "When he started - I should've realized. The signs were so obvious."
Jason's mind flashed to the watchtower, to Dick scowling as he peeled back his suit by the Batman's orders as a whistle came down the hall. He thought about the less than subtle leers he'd seen from heroes and villains alike. He thought about magazine columns dedicated to Nightwing's ass, to stollen pictures of Dick Grayson's flesh, of Dick's wild eyes when he said there was no damage done -
Tim's tears.
Jason slammed his hand down on the table, and the entire thing rattled.
Normally, Roy would tell him off or threaten to kick him out, but this time, he just looked at him.
"What am I supposed to do?"
The words slipped out without Jason's consent.
Roy swallowed and shook his head.
Chapter 12: Brother is a Light that Does Not Come Cheap
Summary:
Slowly, he stood and approached the edge. He was on a rooftop overlooking the godforsaken city. Though the building wasn't the highest, it was high enough that the buzz of the city was lost. Screams, cries, the roaring of cars - none of that could be heard up above.
Tim had hated Bludhaven. The only time he came was to see Nightwing, and even then, he usually tried to get N to visit him in Gotham instead.
A bang interrupted his wandering thoughts, and he spun around. The roof access door had been slammed open, and Nightwing -
Nightwing didn't look good.
"Dick?" Tim whispered.
Notes:
If you're going to be triggered, it'll probably be in this chapter. Skip if you need to. Tim has a very bad time.
Chapter Text
When Tim opened his eyes, he found himself staring up at dark, cloudy skies. Rain peppered his face, and though his costume didn't seem to get wet, he could feel the rain. He pulled off his cowl, breathing in the night.
It smelled like soot.
Bludhaven.
Slowly, he stood and approached the edge. He was on a rooftop overlooking the godforsaken city. Though the building wasn't the highest, it was high enough that the buzz of the city was lost. Screams, cries, the roaring of cars - none of that could be heard up above.
Tim had hated Bludhaven. The only time he came was to see Nightwing, and even then, he usually tried to get N to visit him in Gotham instead.
A bang interrupted his wandering thoughts, and he spun around. The roof access door had been slammed open, and Nightwing -
Nightwing didn't look good.
"Dick?" Tim whispered.
He was unshaven. Instead of Dick's usual clean face, he looked like he'd not looked in a mirror for days. His hair was the same, longer than usual and snarled, and -
There was a piece of brain in his hair.
Tim's brain short-circuited.
As Nightwing stumbled closer, Tim saw too much. Blood - Blood on his hands, in his hair, streaked on his neck, splattered on his face, on his arms and his legs and his chest - everywhere - staining everything. Rips - the costume had been worn thin in a way that their costumes were never supposed to be. His breathing - he wasn't. His chest was still for a scary moment before he sucked in a painful-sounding breath, huffs and puffs and gasps and - and a panic attack. He was having a panic attack. Exhaustion - Dick moved wrong. He was normally fluid, an acrobat flying even when his feet were on the ground. He was never supposed to move in that jerky, robotic way, but it was clear that his strings had been cut, and he was falling.
Literally.
Nightwing hit his knees hard, and Tim flinched at the too loud noise they made against the concrete.
Tim threw himself in front of Dick, panic making his chest tight.
Nightwing - Dick wasn't supposed to look like that.
"Dick." Tim whispered as Dick stared at his shaking hands. The blood - God, some of it had congealed against his gloves - mixed with the rain. Dick's hands dropped to the ground, his body bent forward as if the weight of the world had finally managed to break him.
"So sorry." Dick managed, and Tim's throat clogged. He wanted to throw up. "Bruce . . . I'm so sorry . . ."
Tim let out a strangled noise, and then he spotted her.
Tarantula. Tim's mind supplied. He'd never really had much reason to pay attention to her, though he'd met her in passing once. She looked at Dick with an undecipherable look, but Tim could see the downturned lip and the furrow of her brow.
Just a little bit of relief loosened his chest. There was nothing Tim could do to be there for Dick - He was completely out of control, but she could.
Dick kept whispering to himself as she approached, saying "I failed you. I . . ." as she approached.
She knelt down by him slowly, and Tim blinked through the rain as she placed her hand gently on Dick's unshaven face. She turned his face toward her, and his body seemed to move automatically toward her. Tim sat there by his brother's side, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat when she said "Don't talk to yourself, Querido, talk to me."
And Tim -
Dick was crying.
Tim couldn't do it. He let out a sob, pressing a gloved hand against his mouth as he cried with his big brother. He felt so small - small as when he watched the Flying Graysons fall, small as when he read that Robin had been murdered, small as when Dick had led him through training with a half broken, half angry expression no matter how gentle he tried to be -
"I failed you. Utterly. Catalina, I'm so, so sor-"
She pressed a gloved hand to his lips. "Shh."
And Tim was so grateful, because he couldn't listen to another word -
But then her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him backwards. Dick went down harder than Tim would have expected, and he winced for him. She climbed on top of him, and Tim's brain stopped for the second time. Dick managed to sit up just a bit, but Tim could see the tremors of his muscles, the torture in his face -
"Don't . . . touch me. I'm -"
"Everything's all right, baby. It's all okay . . ." Her voice was soothing as she pressed him to the ground, and a look of anguish tore into Dick's face as his head fell to the side.
Tim couldn't breathe. He watched as she smiled, pulling the hair tie out of her hair, and suddenly, Tim could smell sewage, couldn't breathe without feeling the grime on his skin, couldn't breathe -
"Poisonous . . . Numb. I . . . killed him. We killed -"
She clicked her tongue at him, and Tim gagged as she said "I killed him. Now hush . . ."
"No." Dick said, and Tim managed to suck in a breath. "You're my responsibility. It's my fault, my fault . . ."
And she smirked.
"Quiet, mi amor. Callado . . ."
Her hand went down, feeling his chest over the symbol that had always given Tim comfort when he saw it, and suddenly, he was back.
Desperately, his hand shot out, trying to grab onto his brother, but he went straight through him. He clutched at the air where his brother's arm was, where his shoulders should be, where his big brother was right there and out of reach as she began to undress him, and -
"No!" Tim cried. "Please, please, please . . ."
He just wanted to be able to touch his brother.
Instead, a terrible, awful wet noise began to fill the roof, and Tim had the awful thought of Dick would never have wanted me to see this.
With a sob, Tim turned around, facing the night. He couldn't leave him. He didn't think he could walk if he tried, but he would not look.
Catalina moaned, and Tim's hands clutched at his head, trying to block out the sound. He pressed his forehead against the ground, big drops of rain rolling down his neck.
"That's good. That's right . . ." her voice invaded his mind unwillingly. "We're free now . . . Alive, Querido . . . Yes . . . You and me . . . He can't hurt us anymore, baby. It's all over. It's all over . . ."
Tim slammed his forehead against the concrete, but he didn't even get the satisfaction of pain. Tears slipped down his face, unnoticed, from where he was frozen, listening. It's never going to end. He thought, horrified. He could only hear her and that noise, and Dick - Dick wasn't making a single noise, wasn't talking, wasn't doing anything to stop the wet slapping that seemed to go on and on and on.
He can't. Tim thought numbly. He can't do anything, and it's not going to stop - Stop -
Tim thought about Dick and his bright smile and his stupid puns and his righteous anger and his godawful sense of style, and hatred, hot and all consuming, filled his chest. He felt stupid, felt angry, betrayed that he had ever thought that this - this spider was ever going to help his brother who was good and who tried and messed up sometimes but who never deserved to call himself poison.
"I'm going to kill you." Tim whispered against the rooftop. His breath hitched as she moaned again. "I'm going to kill you."
She made a high noise, and Tim nearly threw up. The noise stopped.
Relief of a different kind filled him. A bitter, sick relief.
At least it was over.
He turned around as she finished dressing his brother. Dick just laid there, looking like a broken doll, and Tim leaned against the space his brother should have filled.
"Dick . . ." Tim whispered, a strangled keening noise making it past his lips, but he was interrupted.
"Come on, Querido." she said. "I have you."
And she was touching him again, pulling him up, and Tim staggered to wobbling feet. "No!"
But he couldn't stop her from dragging Nightwing's catatonic form away.
Chapter 13: But I'm Going to be Here Until I'm Nothing
Summary:
"No." Dick hissed into the open air. "Stop it!"
Nothing happened. He hadn't expected anything else, but it still hurt.
By the time Dick finished changing and rushed back into the cave, there were only two lone figures on the cots - Jason and Tim. Dick let out a heavy breath, making his way first to Jason. His fingers were careful as he disengaged the safety and tilted up Jason's head to remove the helmet, setting it aside. Just before he was going to head to Tim, he glared hard at the wall.
"I can hear you lurking, you know." Dick said, voice hard.
Chapter Text
Dick practically stormed into the changing rooms. He felt somewhere between vindicated and embarrassed (though not quite humiliated), and the feeling drove a hole straight through his chest. Steam lost, he dropped heavily onto a bench.
It was times like this where a sick, sick part of him missed Spyral.
There was no one to trust, no one to hurt, and no one who could hurt him - not truly and deeply.
Just the happy delusion he built up in his mind more and more each desperate, bloody week of coming home. Tired, desperate mirages of Jason willingly hugging him the way he had when he was a scrappy kid who was too hardened to admit that he was excited to meet Dick, excited to train with him. Mirages of Tim so relieved and happy and teasing him over not growing a single inch in his absence (whether he had or not). Mirages of finally patching up all the broken holes and rips in his relationship with Barbara. Seeing Steph and Cass and Alfred -
Mirages of Bruce apologizing. Whispering Chum, I never should have -
But a mirage was just a pretty lie. He should have learned that years ago.
Dick ran a tense hand through his hair, breathing out a deceptively slow breath when -
Harsh, stinging pain ripped through his chest.
"No." Dick hissed into the open air. "Stop it!"
Nothing happened. He hadn't expected anything else, but it still hurt.
By the time Dick finished changing and rushed back into the cave, there were only two lone figures on the cots - Jason and Tim. Dick let out a heavy breath, making his way first to Jason. His fingers were careful as he disengaged the safety and tilted up Jason's head to remove the helmet, setting it aside. Just before he was going to head to Tim, he glared hard at the wall.
"I can hear you lurking, you know." Dick said, voice hard.
The Batman said nothing.
Dick turned around and crossed his arms.
"Mr. Freeze is asking for you."
Dick blinked in surprise. "What?"
"He wasn't even back in his cell in Arkham before he started screaming for you, asking for Nightwing." Batman stated.
Dick's palms prickled, and his knees felt cold. "I don't want to see him."
"What happened?"
Dick chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Take it off."
There was a long pause where the emotionless white of the cowl seemed to bore into Dick's soul, taking him apart piece by piece. Then he reached up and pulled it off, revealing Bruce Wayne's calculating eyes and the secretly concerned furrow of his brow. "What happened?" he asked, just a little softer.
Dick couldn't tell how much was manipulation and how much was Bruce's genuine worry, but he didn't focus on it. Frankly, even the Batman couldn't tell anymore, and Dick was tired of trying to be better than either Batman or Bruce Wayne.
"You think that's an easy question, don't you?" Dick asked tiredly.
Bruce said nothing.
Dick rubbed a hand across his forehead.
"Look, one second Freeze and I were fighting, and the next second, the goddess invoked her protection on me." Dick scowled. "The freeze gun melted in my hand, and I was . . . Well, I was there, could see everything, but I couldn't control a single thing my body was doing. If it was even my body. It was the goddess or Nora -"
The line of Bruce's mouth twitched.
"Yeah. Nora." Dick confirmed.
He expected Bruce to spin around with a dramatic flair of his cape and stalk to his computer, but he just stood there, staring. He shifted his weight onto one foot, the most embarrassed that Bruce could really do before hesitantly asking "Are you . . . ?"
"I'm fine." Dick said, exhaustion creeping into his voice.
"You should go upstairs. Rest."
Dick stared at the man in front of him, the man that had spent more of his life playing the role of father than Dick's own dad had, the man who had come to comfort him when he would scream all alone in a huge room, the man who had helped shape him into a hero, the man who had physically beaten him after he'd thought he was finally safe -
"Yeah. Night, B." Dick managed.
Bruce watched him go, but Dick couldn't find it in himself to care.
When he finally found his room, he climbed into bed over the sleeping child there and wished for a dreamless sleep.
When Tim woke up, he stared at the ceiling of the cave for half a minute before promptly rushing for one of the bags in the cabinet beside the bed. New tears pricked at his eyes as he gagged, the stench of putrid vomit burning his nose. Even after he was done, his stomach was unsettled enough that he didn't feel confident enough to move from the spot.
He wiped his itchy face. He could feel the harsh remains of tears caked on his cheeks and on his eyelashes, but he didn't have it in himself to really care.
It's like Paris. The thought drifted hazily through his mind for half a second before he rejected it with a firm hand.
It wasn't like Paris.
He didn't think about Paris.
Even when Paris happened, he'd firmly compartmentalized it (primarily so he'd never have to deal with this.)
Tim gagged on mucus. "Shit."
When it seemed nothing more would come up, Tim tied up the disgusting bag and disposed of it with extreme prejudice. Then he glanced at the time.
Tim groaned, rushing to change. He had enough time to get to Wayne Enterprises for the meeting that he'd had to reschedule once already for the alien invasion (he was so sick of alien invasions), and even though he wanted to just call in sick, another part of him whispered that the investors were very important, and they could make or break a new project that had been proposed.
As he threw on the most professional clothes he could find down in the cave, his mind struggled to latch onto what the project was for.
I need to know this. Tim hissed at himself as he buttoned up a shirt. Why don't I know this?
He struggled with it all the way up into the manor and out the door.
It was raining.
Tim stopped, staring up at the storm clouds above as they rumbled in displeasure. Fat drops of rain fell through the air in almost slow motion, barely visible through the early morning darkness. Tim's hair flattened to his head, and two drops of rain slithered down his neck. A voice started to whisper in his ear, moaning out That's good. That's right -
Tim spun on his heel.
He made it back to the cave without meeting a single soul, and he dropped into the chair at the batcomputer heavily. It took him no time for his fingers to type out almost unwillingly "Catalina, Nightwing."
Results poured forth, and Tim grew to hate himself just a little.
(Just a little more.)
Chapter 14: If We Hit on Troubled Water
Summary:
Tim stared at him in silence for a moment, and then he said "You know, too, don't you?"
Jason gritted his jaw, hating that he immediately knew what Tim was talking about. He gave a sharp nod.
Tim slumped into the chair. "I hate her."
Jason didn't know if he meant Mirage or the Goddess, but he full-heartedly agreed.
Chapter Text
Jason pulled into the cave in a strange limbo.
Nothing had actually changed, of course, but the new knowledge that seemed to eat away at him made the place feel twisted and wrong. He could barely believe it was the same place that he'd spent years dressed like a traffic light in, the same place he'd avoided vehemently despite dreams dragging him back, the same place that he'd finally found some tentative peace with (the rest of?) the Bats, the same place he'd stood before that shitty costume case and mourned Nightwing -
(The same place he'd found himself running to when Nightwing was alive, and he'd been too betrayed to feel relieved.)
It was different now.
He parked his bike and gave her a pat before his eyes landed on the computer. His eyebrows raised as he saw all of the pictures and files opened. Gang violence to murder filled the screen.
Normally, Jason's curiosity would lead him to poking and prodding until he could give the case a look, but instead his eyes dropped to the figure in the chair.
Tim looked awful. Despite being in an expensive suit, his skin was a clammy white with a flush high on his cheeks. His eyes were red and irritated, the bags beneath them only highlighting their watery gleam. His hair was messy, strands falling flatly in front of his face. Of course, all of that was not to mention that he didn't seem to have noticed in the slightest that Jason was there.
"You look like shit." Jason said bluntly.
Tim's eyes snapped to him, and in less than a second, the files were gone from the screen.
Fair. Jason thought.
Tim stared at him in silence for a moment, and then he said "You know, too, don't you?"
Jason gritted his jaw, hating that he immediately knew what Tim was talking about. He gave a sharp nod.
Tim slumped into the chair. "I hate her."
Jason didn't know if he meant Mirage or the Goddess, but he full-heartedly agreed.
"We have to talk to Dick." Tim said.
Jason scowled. "The hell we do."
"It's only fair." Tim argued.
"What's fair about it?" snapped Jason. "What's fair about dragging up old memories that we were never supposed to see in the first place?"
"Dick deserves to know that we know." Tim said coldly.
"Dick deserves to do whatever the hell he wants about this. He should have been able to talk when he was ready -"
"Dick will never be ready."
Jason scowled. "Look, Replacement -"
"Jason, how many years has it been?"
That drew Jason up short. "Huh?"
"How long has it been?" Tim repeated.
Jason frowned, thinking about that godawful suit and the angry shout that Nightwing had given - a shout he hadn't heard since his Robin days. A grim look settled into his skin, and Tim rubbed his forehead slowly.
"Exactly." Tim managed, his energy seemingly zapped. "He was never going to tell us. He was never going to tell anyone."
"Can you blame him?" Jason clenched his fists.
"We need a plan on how to approach this."
"You think you can plan for this type of shit?"
"We have to."
The two former Robins stared at one another for a moment before Jason breathed out a quiet "Fuck me. Fine. Let's make a plan."
Everything immediately spiraled.
After Batman attempted to order them off patrol (and was nearly shot for it), they'd come to the tentative agreement to stick close to Nightwing. They noticed the explicitly absent Robin, but neither had mentioned it. Frankly, there was both a level of relief and heavy tension that clung to them at the decision. After spending both so few and far too many memories standing beside Nightwing, it settled them finally being able to do something.
(Although the fear that they wouldn't be able to do anything this time either sat heavily enough in their bones to warrant Batman's long stares.)
With all three of them together, fights were brutally easy.
Until they dropped into the middle of two gangs' territorial dispute.
That was not so easy.
"Hey, boys! Hope you don't mind if we drop in." Nightwing grinned.
The shooting started immediately.
There weren't too many of them, but there certainly were enough of them - especially when they realized that some of them had the bane juice.
Red Hood let out a frustrated grunt as he brutally kicked in a huge figure's knee. As the gang member collapsed with a cry, there was a whoosh of air behind Hood, and he spun around in time to see Red Robin finally make his way to him. After the two of them took out a few more, Red Robin huffed out a breath. "Nightwing?"
Red Hood immediately turned in the direction he'd spotted the eldest Robin in and got to watch as a juiced-up gangbanger slammed him backwards against a wall. Nightwing grunted but clung on. His legs were wrapped tightly around the gargantuan man's neck, trying to choke him out in a warped version of a piggy-back ride. However, the second knock against the wall made Nightwing go slack, and the practical monster was able to pull him off by his knee and toss him to the floor.
"Wing!" Red Robin cried out.
His grappling hook was in the rafters immediately, and he was swinging -
But not before both watched in vague horror as the man over him reached down toward the zipper on the back of his suit.
The Red Hood saw green.
His gun was in his hand in an instant, but before he could shoot, the brute on Nightwing began to spasm and cry out. He collapsed to the ground, twitching and drooling. Red Hood stilled as Red Robin landed, both quietly staring as Nightwing pulled himself to his feet with a scowl before zip-tying the man on the ground.
"Good night's work." Nightwing said, voice cheery. "Seems about time to call this in."
Then he turned his gaze back and saw Red Hood frozen with his gun in hand and Red Robin silently staring, a tremble in his hand.
A pinched expression made its way onto his face before smoothing out. He stood and approached Red Robin, dropping a heavy hand onto his shoulder. He flinched but didn't otherwise move. Red Hood's hand fell, the gun dropping heavily to his side.
"Come on. We've had a good night." Nightwing said.
Dick's apartment was a mix between cheap and actually decent, the couch stained but the floor hardwood. After all three of them weren't dressed as masked crusaders, Dick stood at the coffee pot while his brothers sat on his couch, stealing looks at him but unwilling to stare. The clock was too loud as it seemed to announce each second, and it was only as two coffee cups hit the table that the sound retreated into the back of their minds.
Dick sat down on the coffee table in front of them.
"Alright." Dick said. "Let's talk."
Chapter 15: Brotherhood is Nothing Without Your Brothers
Summary:
"This isn't about you. It's about me. This is my problem. So I'm going to be as - as candid and open as I can about this, but . . . but sometimes, I'm gonna struggle with it. Sometimes, I need to remember that you're both adults. Sometimes I might even need a reminder that - that you're not kids. But I need you both to promise me something."
"What?" Tim asked.
"This stays between us." Dick stated. "Damian . . . He's been through a lot, acts older than he is, but underneath it, he's still a kid. Eventually, we'll have this conversation, but not until he's ready."
As both Jason and Tim nodded, Dick gave them searching looks before letting a silent breath out between his lips.
Chapter Text
After a heavy silence fell, Dick surveyed them slowly, body deceivingly loose. He crossed his ankles as he finally said "I know you both saw something, and I know it's throwing you off more than this whole mess already is. Tim, I know you missed your meeting this morning, and a little birdie told me that Roy's got a hell of a bruise on his jaw. Something tells me they're related."
Tim stared into his coffee, seemingly unwilling to take a sip.
A muscle jumped in Jason's neck.
Dick sighed. "Whatever you saw, I've already been through it once. I'm not going to break if we talk about it."
"That's not - That's - It's . . ." Tim made a frustrated noise, clenching his coffee even harder.
"We shouldn't be seeing this shit in the first place." Jason scowled. "This is your shit."
Dick rubbed his forehead. "Well, now it's our shit. For better or worse."
"What? Are we getting married?" Jason asked dryly.
"Well, those vows were originally between a mother-in-law and a daughter." Tim managed.
Dick gave him an encouraging smile. "See, Jay? If anything, it seems like we should be saying it to Bruce."
An equally disgusted and bitter look came over his face. "I'll die first."
"You really held to that, huh?" Dick asked.
Jason gave him a sharp grin. "And I'll do it again."
"Let's not." Tim replied.
The brothers sat together, the air settling into something just a bit softer, though the tension still blanketed around them like a living thing. Despite feeling a foreboding anxiety deep within his chest beneath the goddess's brand, Dick couldn't help aiming a fond smile toward the two of them.
"What did you see?" Dick asked.
There was a pause. Then the two spoke at the same time.
"Mirage."
"Tarantula."
Tim and Jason turned to stare at each other so fast that Tim's coffee spilled down his hand, and he gasped in pain. Dick, his face pale, jolted forward and snatched the wet cup out of Tim's hand. He dropped it onto the table carelessly, swiftly dragging Tim toward the sink.
Tim let out a shaky breath. "Dick -"
Dick turned on the sink, testing it before shoving Tim's hand underneath.
"Dick -" Tim tried again, but Dick turned a sharp eye on him.
"Okay?" Dick asked.
"Yeah. Yeah." Tim said, but his voice was too quiet.
Jason stood there staring at them.
"What the fuck?"
Dick took a breath and stepped away from Tim, leaving him to handle the last of the slight stinging on his hand himself. He raked a hand through his hair, huffing a breath. "Okay. Let's - Let's talk about it. Sit down."
Jason stayed rooted to the spot. "It happened twice?"
Dick clenched his fists.
The sound of the sink turning off assaulted their ears with silence. Tim turned to them before slowly making his way around the table and sinking into a chair. He kept his face down as he weakly asked "Mirage?"
Dick glanced between Jason and Tim before wearily taking a seat himself. "Mirage. Miriam was - wasn't entirely her fault -"
"Bullshit." Jason snapped.
Dick swallowed. "You don't understand -"
"You said the same shit about Bruce hitting you." Jason snarled.
Dick snapped right back with "Sit down and shut up. I'm not explaining this twice."
For a moment, Jason stood obstinately, but then he dropped into a seat.
Dick paused, staring between them.
"Look. I'm - I'm trying to do my best to treat you both as adults." Dick said slowly.
Jason bared his teeth. "What, you think we can't handle this?"
"Of course you can. You're both more than capable. You're old enough. I just - I have a hard time not seeing that punk kid that tried to steal Batman's wheels and you as that little boy that came knocking on my apartment door." Dick said fondly but with a creeping anxiety beneath his tone. "This isn't about you. It's about me. This is my problem. So I'm going to be as - as candid and open as I can about this, but . . . but sometimes, I'm gonna struggle with it. Sometimes, I need to remember that you're both adults. Sometimes I might even need a reminder that - that you're not kids. But I need you both to promise me something."
"What?" Tim asked.
"This stays between us." Dick stated. "Damian . . . He's been through a lot, acts older than he is, but underneath it, he's still a kid. Eventually, we'll have this conversation, but not until he's ready."
As both Jason and Tim nodded, Dick gave them searching looks before letting a silent breath out between his lips.
There was a pause.
"Miriam was brainwashed." Dick said, and he watched as the two of his brothers stared at him in silent horror. "She thought she was from the future where she and I were in a relationship. She genuinely believed that we were lovers or would be, so she disguised herself as Kory and -"
"Raped you." Jason said simply. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, but Jason pressed forward. "See, when you said brainwashed, I thought you'd give a legitimate reason that she'd do that. She wasn't in control of her body, she didn't know it was you, she blah, blah, blah - But thinking that she has some kind of right to you? That ain't a reason. That's just a regular rapist. If she thought you were her partner, she should have respected you, but if that's how she treats people she loves, that's fucked."
"I don't know if she really knew how to love." Dick said softly. "She was . . . She was possessive. It used to really get to Kory. She said so many things that - Well, I guess I just ignored. A part of me thought that she'd stop. I'd chosen Kory, you know? But it seemed to just encourage her."
"And I bet the rest of the Titans really helped that problem." Jason said sarcastically.
"Don't talk about them like that." Tim defended. "The Titans are like family. They'd never act like that."
"Tim, he's right." Dick admitted, and Tim's eyes widened in surprise. "Mirage - after we slept together, she told everyone. Everyone except Kory. I had to do that myself. For a while, we were just - drama, I guess. A fun thing to talk about to pass the time. Everyone had something to say. Donna was the only one that didn't. Honestly, I don't know if anyone even told her. People were more careful about what they said around her."
"Pantha didn't waste a single second." Jason said.
"Don't be so harsh on Pantha." Dick replied. "At least she knew it was messed up. She spent most of her time testing to see if she could make us hate her, make us drop her. Make us turn our backs on her. Pantha was one of the most powerful people I ever met, but she was also the most scared. She wasn't born that way. She was a regular person once with people who loved her. Pantha was created, and she spent every waking minute terrified and searching for answers. Answers she didn't get." Dick clenched his fists, for the first time looking truly bitter and heart-wrenchingly sad. "I've looked for her. Investigated. I haven't found much, but I had hope that - maybe it'd help her rest."
Jason glared at Dick. "I'm hearing a lot of excuses for the people that fucked you over. Oh, Bruce was mourning. Mirage was brainwashed. Pantha was too scared of having friends. Boo hoo. I don't care. That doesn't make what they did right. Next you're gonna say that it's okay that Kory told people you cheated."
Dick hesitated.
"Oh, you gotta be fuckin' kidding me." Jason said.
"I would have thought she'd let it go." Tim said. "After all, you tried to get married."
Dick looked at the table, shoulders starting to slump. "Tried is the operative word. It was - Things were hard. Legally, we couldn't be married."
"The hell are you talkin' about?" Jason asked.
"At the time, things were tense. The news reports were pushing that the Titans were dangerous. That we needed to be under government control, and Kory - Well, she was an easy target." Dick sighed. "Being an alien meant that they were arguing whether or not she was a person at all. When we went to try to get the marriage license, people were lined up outside with signs. I was so angry. I just - I don't know. Things were fuzzy back then."
"Fuzzy?" Tim asked.
"I didn't know it, but Brother Blood was influencing my mind. Everything felt - wrong, but I didn't know why. Hell, I even picked a fight with Deathstroke."
"You know he's called the Terminator for a reason, right?" Jason crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow even as Tim's eyes darkened.
"Yeah, well, Deathstroke has always been complicated, but I knew he was dangerous. It just didn't matter. Nothing fully mattered. I just knew that I loved Kory, and I was ready to have a life with her." Dick clenched his hands. "She was the only person that felt right."
Jason stared at him. "How the fuck are you alive?"
Dick gave him a wry smile. "Luck and a pretty face."
Tim shivered.
"Look." Dick continued, voice serious. "I don't want you to be mad at Kory."
"Too late." Jason muttered.
"Kory and I went through a lot together. I still love her. I'll probably always love her." Dick admitted. "The problem was that we weren't on the same page. We were fighting the same war but not the same battle. Kory needed the assurance that I didn't care for Mirage. I never told off Mirage, never stopped her flirting, never said anything even when I should have. To Mirage or the other Titans. And before Mirage - did what she did, we'd even flirted. That's on me. I should have realized how that affected Kory. It wasn't harmless. It just encouraged Mirage."
"That doesn't give Mirage permission to - to do what she did." Tim said.
"No. It doesn't." Dick agreed. "But it wasn't only me that she hurt. When she was transformed as Kory, she posed naked for a spread."
"Kory does that herself." Jason dismissed.
"Because it's her body." Dick said sharply. "Besides, Kory likes artsy photography. Mirage . . . Mirage posed in a pornographic way specifically to hurt Kory. It was sick, and I didn't do enough to support Kory. I was more focused on trying to make sure that we could really be together. That we could get married and have a real life. I don't regret fighting for that, but I regret that we were so far apart and didn't even realize it. By the time we finally broke up, we'd been disconnected for a while."
"Mirage can't get away with that." Tim said sharply.
Dick sighed. "She didn't."
"Like you'd do anything to punish her." Jason said.
"You're right. I didn't. Honestly, I just wanted to pretend that nothing happened. I treated her like a distant friend. I would've even invited her to Kory's and my backyard wedding."
"Dickface." Jason said.
"I know, I know." Dick rubbed his face tiredly. "I didn't. But I told you that she thought she'd had a relationship with me in the future. Well, he showed up."
"Oh." Tim said. "You're right. I remember him at the wedding."
"Yeah, well, he visited Mirage first. She'll never touch anyone like that again after what happened." Dick said. "It was - cruel."
Jason looked lost. "So he what? Had a harsh word for her?"
Dick stared at him and then at the equally confused look on Tim's face. "The difference between me and Miriam is that I couldn't get pregnant from what happened. She did."
Equal looks of horror dawned on their faces.
"I don't go near her or her kid." Dick said darkly. "She has enough reminders of what happened."
"Fuck." Jason whispered.
"I know." Dick said. He rubbed his forehead. "It was a hard time. I don't - I try not to think about it. Honestly, I think that was the beginning of the end with Kory. Her and the Titans. Hell, at the time, I messed up and couldn't keep track of rent. I got evicted from my apartment, and I didn't trust anyone enough to ask them for help. I didn't even try to crash in the Tower. I called Alfred to ask for money instead."
Dick looked ashamed, and Tim winced.
"Ah, yes. How dare the traumatized, brainwashed kid forget to pay rent?" Jason scowled. "I'm sure Bruce didn't even notice the money missing. He's got more than enough."
"I guess." Dick said.
"I'm sorry." Jason said abruptly, and Dick startled.
"For what?" Dick asked.
"I teased you about Mr. Freeze." Jason squeezed his eyes shut. "It shouldn't take me knowing about Mirage to be sorry, but it did. So I'm sorry."
"It's okay." Dick said, still looking a bit shocked.
"It's not. Knowin' how Mirage tricked you and then how the goddess uses you -" Jason shook his head. "If I say anything like that again, hit me."
Dick laughed, short and tired. "I'm not going to hit you."
"You should." Jason said. "It's better than finding out later how much of an ass I was being."
"It's part of your charm." Dick grinned.
"Tarantula . . ." Tim breathed, and the small bit of levity that they earned shattered.
"Tarantula." Dick agreed softly. "That tale is - messy. Give me a second to figure out where to start."
Jason's eyes flickered between the two, watching as Dick stared at the table and Tim tap tap tapped silently against the table. When Dick began to speak, he went deathly still.
"I guess it starts with Desmond - Blockbuster." Dick admitted. "I was a newbie on the force, and I thought things were going well. Nightwing cleaning up the streets and Officer Grayson cleaning up the force. I was wrong. I was on a chase through the city, and I disrupted traffic. Desmond was stuck there."
High patches of angry flush appeared on Tim's cheeks. "A traffic jam? That's what it was about?"
Jason's eyebrows went up at the vehement response.
"No. His mother was in the car. She had a heart attack." Dick said.
Tim paled. "And with the traffic jam . . ."
"The ambulance couldn't get through." Dick agreed. "Meanwhile, I continued on my merry way. I didn't even know it happened."
Jason scoffed. "That's not your fault."
Dick shrugged. "Desmond thought it was. So he figured out my identity."
Jason, the only one that this was new information for, jerked back. "What?"
Dick looked at him with dead eyes. "There's a reason we keep them secret. Too many people already know who I am. Don't follow that."
Tim shook his head. "Even Batman's identity isn't totally secret."
"Well, yours should be." Dick snapped, but his voice intentionally softened not a second later. "Yours needs to be. There are some people that can't be helped, times where - where there's nothing you can do, but this? This was preventable."
"What did he do?" Jason asked.
"He systematically took everything." Dick said quietly. "It started with Babs. We were engaged at the time, and he sent Tarantula to - I don't know. I don't know what she was actually supposed to do, but she told Babs that we were together. Barbara called the engagement off, and I can't blame her."
"You wouldn't cheat. Barbara has to know that." Tim defended.
"She heard the stories about me cheating on Kory." Dick said simply. "She had every reason to believe I would."
"Fuck." Jason whispered.
"Honestly, I'm glad." Dick managed, clenching his hands. "If something had happened to her, I never would have forgiven myself."
The other two glanced at each other, something dark and unreadable crossing between them.
Dick cleared his throat. "After that, was - was probably the circus. Desmond hired Firefly to burn it while I was - A lot of people died. I tried to . . . Well. A lot of people died. Then my apartment building was blown up. Desmond hired some low-level thugs. They didn't know that there were people inside, but - It was my apartment building. I owned it. I chose who I rented to, and I hired someone to play landlord. Most of the people there were good people down on their luck. People who needed a little help. Families that . . ."
"I'd kill that fucker." Jason whispered, and Dick flinched.
"Where did you go?" Tim asked quickly.
"Nowhere."
"Nowhere?" Jason questioned. "Dick, where did you stay if your place was gone? The manor? A hotel?"
Dick glanced at him. "I didn't go anywhere. Everything I had was blown up except for me and my Nightwing uniform. I'd just swung out of my window when it happened."
"So what? You were just sleeping on the street in a box?" Jason said, flabbergasted.
"More like under newspaper on a fire escape." Dick said, a small smile on his face.
"But you were a cop. Shouldn't they have done something?" Jason demanded.
"I'd been fired." Dick said.
"Did they know, too?" Tim asked.
"Well, Amy figured it out. Amy was my partner for a while, and then she was promoted to chief. Deathstroke the Terminator had a hit on her family, and while I was protecting them, I dropped my Nightwing voice. She recognized me, and that was that. I was off the force." Dick said.
"She sounds stupid as hell." Jason muttered.
"Amy was the best cop on the force." Dick snapped. "She's the reason I'm not in jail right now."
"What are you talking about?" Tim demanded.
"Look, I was in a bad place." Dick said. "Bad enough that Amy offered me back my badge so that I could legally kill Desmond."
Tim stared at Dick, his expression unreadable. "And Desmond is dead."
"Yeah. So I turned us in."
Tim swallowed, sounding sick. "But Tar-Tarantula said she killed him. She said she did it."
"She had the gun." Dick said. "But I let her do it."
"You couldn't have stopped her." Tim said.
"Of course I -"
"No, Dick." Tim snapped. "I - I saw the rooftop."
Dick went pale. "I'm sorry you had to -"
"Stop it." Tim interrupted. "Stop, Dick. I saw you. You weren't - I've never seen any hero in that bad of shape and live."
Jason's eyes snapped to Tim. "Hell of a thing to say."
"It was a hell of a thing to see." Tim bit back, temper flaring.
"How bad?"
"You can't figure it out?"
"I'll fuckin' figure you out -"
"You heard him. Caught in a fire, an explosion, and homeless?" Tim snapped his teeth at Jason. "And that's only what he said. There were reports of assassins in Bludhaven at the same time -"
"Stop." Dick said. "It's not worth fighting over."
"Then fucking what is worth fighting over, Dickface?" Jason slammed a fist on the table.
"Jason." Dick managed, and his voice was so worn thin and exhausted that Jason stopped. His shoulders slumped forward, and he took a shaky breath. Tim bit his lip, hiding a sour look by staring at the table.
"So let me guess." Jason said too calmly. "Amy got you out of it somehow."
"Yeah. Lost the documents, let me go, and then she spun a tale of me being on an undercover job." Dick said. "When I came back, I was a detective, and everyone was congratulating me for taking out Desmond."
"But first . . ." Tim breathed.
"Yeah. The rooftop." Dick said. "Tarantula . . . She was someone I thought I could help."
"That figures." Jason muttered.
Dick gave him a weak smile. "I didn't know she was working for Desmond at first, but then the tides changed. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right?"
Neither brother said right.
Dick huffed. "I took her under my wing, but she was too violent. Too angry. Too willing to kill. She was . . . She wasn't a psychopath, but she didn't have much empathy. So when we killed Desmond, I - I guess I checked out. Couldn't breathe. But she, uh . . ."
"You told her not to touch you." Tim whispered.
"And sometimes that doesn't work." Dick said gently.
"It's not fair." Tim suddenly burst out.
Jason gave him a grim look.
"I know." Dick agreed.
Tim's fingers started tap tap tapping again. "I - I was in Paris, and I was - She wanted to give Ra's another heir, one that wouldn't fail him, and she was going to - going to take it from me. But then Cass was there, and it stopped. But then when she had her hands on you - I was just - I couldn't do anything."
A heartbroken look came over Dick's face, and he slid over the table in an instant. "Come here."
Tim grasped onto to Dick's shirt, his hands shaking.
Dick rubbed a circle into his back, eyes shifting to Jason as he sat there still as a stone.
"This - This is the truth." Dick said. "There are people that you can help. People that get better. People that grow. But there are also people that don't. Maybe they can't or maybe they just don't want to. Either way, they'll hurt you - They'll hurt you in new ways, ways you didn't know you could be hurt. But that's why we do what we do. We give them a chance to grow or we stop them if they refuse to. But the things they do? That's on them. Mirage, Tarantula - Their actions are their own. Sometimes, it doesn't feel like it. Sometimes it's easier to blame yourself, but you need to remember this. It's not your fault."
Dick ran his hand through Tim's dark hair.
"You really believe that?" Jason asked quietly.
"I do."
"Then why do you keep makin' excuses?" Jason questioned.
Dick paused, eyes flickering to the window for a moment. When he looked back at Jason, his eyes were sure. "Context matters. It doesn't take away anyone's responsibility, but it can make you understand where another person is coming from. It's a reminder to be empathetic. Nothing is black and white. If a man robs a bank to pay for a lifesaving surgery for his daughter, he still robbed a bank. However, I can understand what drove him to that point, and I can stop it from happening to someone else. I can understand how Bruce would hit me after I blamed him for your death, because that's what he'd been doing for months - blaming himself. I can understand how Mirage would try to - to possess the only person familiar to her after being supposedly ripped from an apocalyptic future. And I can understand how Tarantula . . . How Tarantula could . . ."
His voice festered out, and he took a slow breath.
"How Tarantula could have a rush of relief, of happiness - or - or whatever the hell she was thinking after she felt safe for the first time . . . for the first time maybe ever. It's not okay. It doesn't make any of it okay, but it means that I don't feel so sick when I think about it. It means I can keep going as Nightwing some nights, knowing that I've got the chance to prevent another Mirage or Tarantula from being created."
Jason looked at him coolly. "Cool motive. Still murder."
Dick blinked, cracking a tiny smile. "Did you just quote Brooklyn Nine-Nine at me?"
Jason shrugged. "Just sayin' it's okay for things to be black and white sometimes. Bruce hit you. Mirage raped you. Tarantula raped you. You're the fucking victim here. You don't owe them any - mercy or empathy or fuckin' understanding."
"He wouldn't be Dick if he didn't." Tim murmured.
"He's a dick alright."
Dick laughed, but Tim kept his head down, one hand still fisted tightly in Dick's shirt.
"Where did she take you?"
Dick frowned. "What?"
"After the rooftop." Tim whispered. "She - She took you somewhere, and you - you said you were homeless. You dropped off the map. No sightings or - Where were you?"
Dick glanced between the top of Tim's head and Jason before saying "A hotel. Tarantula - Catalina took me to a hotel."
"For how long?" Jason asked.
Dick was quiet.
"Dick?"
Dick smoothed down Tim's hair a little bit too harshly before pulling back his hand.
"I don't know." Dick finally said.
There was an edge in Jason's voice when he said "What do you mean you don't know?"
"That I don't know." Dick snapped.
The silence settled around them like a heavy snowfall, cold and biting. It was nearly a physical thing like the thick presence in the cave that had begun this entire mess. Dick started to stand before he came to an abrupt halt, staring at Tim's hand where the younger man refused to release him. Slowly, Dick breathed out of his nose until his limbs were loose once more. He sat back down.
"Tim, can you look at me?"
Tim raised his face, a wretched look etched into the line between his eyebrows and the sharp clench of his jaw despite how blank he forced his expression to go.
Dick looked at him and then at Jason.
"Tell me you can handle this."
There was a pause, but then, nice and slow, Tim pulled back. He released Dick's shirt, instead placing a steady hand on Dick's forearm. His eyes were determined, though pained. "We can handle this."
Jason nodded, his eyes speaking far louder than his gruff "Yeah."
Dick let out a breath. "Okay. Okay. So Tarantula took me back to a hotel. We lived there together for - for I don't know. Weeks? I spent most of that time drunk or wishing I was drunk. When I wasn't drunk, I was sick. The days bled together. Usually, we spent the time in bed. It was . . . It was bad. I don't drink anymore - not like that. Maybe one drink once in a while, but now it just tastes like poison."
Tim clutched his forearm a little tighter. Dick laid his own hand over Tim's, smiling in a way that screamed.
"What made you leave?" Jason asked quietly.
"I don't know." Dick said. "I really - I really don't know. I was going to marry her."
"Marry Flores?" Tim demanded, sounding sick.
Dick shrugged. "She was the devil I knew. By then I felt - responsible? I didn't feel for her. I didn't love her. Not like Kory or Babs, but she was important to me, and I didn't process what she did to me. Maybe I couldn't. It's kind of funny, isn't it? That we could go up and get a marriage license drawn up, that I was allowed to marry my rapist, but I couldn't marry Kory when I loved her because of where she was from."
"I think your sense of humor is fucked up." Jason replied.
"Maybe I'm just fucked up." Dick admitted. "My parents . . . My parents were practically soulmates. They loved each other, and a part of me always wanted that. I thought I had that with Kory, and I thought I had a second chance with Babs. With Cat . . . We were bonded together by something sick, and a part of me thought I deserved it. I thought I deserved to be ruined. I can't . . . Every relationship I've had since then has been superficial. Even with flings, with sex - I don't say no anymore. I can't even say if it's because I want to or because I'm scared that they won't accept no for an answer."
"You're right." Jason said. "That is fucked up."
"We're all fucked up." Tim defended. "But we're here. We're all alive. We're all home."
"Yeah, Timmy. We are." Dick agreed. After a moment, he leaned back into his chair. "Things have gotten better at least."
"Did they?" Jason asked. For a second, Dick thought he was being an ass, but then he saw the serious stare the other man was sending him.
"Yeah." Dick said, a lump in his throat. "I mean there are worse times, times where I can't, but there are also better times. Times where it doesn't matter at all. And I figured out things to make me more secure. Like -"
"Like the suit?" Jason asked.
Tim's gaze sharpened. "Yeah. That guy got electrocuted when he went for the zipper."
Dick grinned. "He sure did. Now no one can take off my suit except who I want to."
Tim bit his lip. "Is that - Would that work in my suit?"
"We'll make sure it does." Dick said before turning to Jason. "For you, too, if you want."
Jason pursed his lips. "I'll think about it."
Dick nodded.
"How do we know when you're having a bad day?" Tim asked.
Dick blinked. "Uh -"
"You said you have worse times and better times." Tim pressed on. "Like you said, it's our shit now. So - So how do we know when it's a bad day? How are we supposed to help?"
"You always help, baby bird."
Tim shook his head. "Don't do that."
Dick pulled back. "Right. Right. Not a kid."
"No. I'm not." Tim said. "So I know that when you came back from Spyral, we didn't help. And - And I can't lie. I'm still so - angry. And I don't know what to do with it, but I'm trying. We're trying."
"It was shitty, but we've all pulled some shit." Jason said simply. "So let's just be done with it."
Dick looked between them, eyes shining just a bit too brightly. However, no tears fell. He just swallowed and nodded, relief bleeding through every cell in his body. "Thank you."
"I just - I just want to help." Tim said.
Dick smiled. "You do help. I don't need you to save me, Timbo. I don't need either of you to. I just want you to be my brothers. That's what helps."
For the first time that night, the silence wasn't weighted with pain or anxiety. It was a quiet that seemed to drape about the place like an old blanket - warm and a bit frayed but familiar. Dawn broke through the window, and all three of the former Robins found a peace there together.
Chapter 16: How's He Living with All That Unforgiving?
Summary:
For a moment, he stood there. There was a light, almost unreal feeling that permeated the apartment. However, Dick's soft humming and the gentle sound of streaming water turned it into a soft, comforting place instead of some kind of impossible idea like a Shakespeare set or a scene in a book he could get trapped in. His eyes wandered to where a tuft of Jason's hair and his arm stuck out from underneath a ratty, old blanket on Dick's crap couch.
Tim could have stayed there. He could have ignored his phone, told Dick he'd been wrong, and closed the door.
Instead, he thought What would Deathstroke do?
Chapter Text
If it weren't for the notification on his phone, Tim could have stayed there for the rest of the day. He could see it in his mind - closing his eyes, sinking down into one of Dick's awful chairs as if it actually was made for comfort, grabbing another cup of coffee, breathing in the silence as Dick washed the dishes, considering trying (and, of course, failing) to draw something on Jason's face where he'd fallen asleep. He would've spent the day together with his brothers. He would have been content.
But then his phone buzzed in his pocket, silently but efficiently ripping him from the peace he could have had.
Tim stood, heading towards the door. It wasn't until Tim had slipped one shoe on that Dick's quiet voice floated over to him. "Heading out?"
"Yeah. Sorry. I just had a breakthrough in a case." Tim replied, palms sweating.
Dick ducked over, footsteps perfectly silent. He ruffled Tim's hair. "Come over whenever you want, Tim. Don't be a stranger."
"Yeah. 'Course." Tim managed.
Dick gave him a shyer smile than he usually did and slipped away, back to the sink where he'd left the water running.
Tim shoved his foot in his other shoe and opened the door.
For a moment, he stood there. There was a light, almost unreal feeling that permeated the apartment. However, Dick's soft humming and the gentle sound of streaming water turned it into a soft, comforting place instead of some kind of impossible idea like a Shakespeare set or a scene in a book he could get trapped in. His eyes wandered to where a tuft of Jason's hair and his arm stuck out from underneath a ratty, old blanket on Dick's crap couch.
Tim could have stayed there. He could have ignored his phone, told Dick he'd been wrong, and closed the door.
Instead, he thought What would Deathstroke do?
Deathstroke was a killer for hire with loose morals, but anyone could see a fierce loyalty there. The man had once been a soldier, and it was clear he knew the meaning of brotherhood - even if Tim didn't want to admit it. The temptation that Tim had seen in Dick's eyes came from that. It came from the wish for a brother's bond, a bond that said life or death, a bond he should have been able to rely on Tim and Jason for. It was something sacred and rare but something that Tim knew Dick needed more than he wanted to admit.
However, Tim knew that it would be a lie.
If Deathstroke had managed to pin Dick down and hold onto him, he would have clipped his wings so he could never leave. It wouldn't be a brother's bond, a partnership, a true and honest kinship forged in blood and tears. It would be ownership.
Deathstroke would possess Dick.
Not the way Mirage or Tarantula or even Bruce did, though. Not with force. Not with ultimatums. Not with control.
No, Deathstroke would get in his head. Deathstroke would make Dick want to stay or make him feel like he couldn't leave - or like he owed him his loyalty. Deathstroke would do whatever it took to earn Dick, not fair and square but with an exhilarating fight. He'd take him like the prize at a racetrack when the car in second place had its brake fluid bleeding out of a knife wound that no one noticed. Deathstroke was a cheater with a razor-toothed smile.
If Deathstroke knew what Catalina Flores had done to Dick - if he had her location, he'd kill her. Then he'd use it to keep Dick - forever.
Tim was better than Deathstroke.
Her death would be a quiet affair, forgotten and brushed over so that Dick would only know if he looked.
And Tim knew that Dick wouldn't look.
Tim closed the door softly, crushing the quiet hiss of don't in the back of his mind.
He began down the hallway and dialed, relieved that Steph picked up on the first ring. "Do you know what time it is?"
Tim rolled his eyes. "It's ten, Steph. You should've been awake for hours."
She groaned loudly.
"Look, I need a favor."
"So you're asking me this early in the morning?"
"Once again, it's ten in the A.M." Tim said, mouth quirking up just a little before falling again.
"What is it, boy blunder?" she asked.
"I was supposed to take Dami with me on patrol tonight, but I had a break in a case."
"So you want me to take the little demon with me?" she demanded.
"Yeah." Tim said. He glanced at his phone as it buzzed again, eyes darkening like storm clouds as a hotel room number filtered through under the name Kate Grayson. "Just for tonight."
"We'll see." she said.
Tim frowned as he reached the elevator and hit the button with too much force. "Please, Steph? You know I wouldn't ask if I really didn't need the help."
"It's not that." Stephanie said. "Yesterday, he didn't want to go out, and he just didn't show up for patrol the night before."
Tim's eyebrows furrowed. "That's not like him."
"I know. Think it might be the whole memory thing?" she asked.
"Maybe." Tim admitted just as the elevator door opened.
"Look. If he decides to put on the ol' red, green, and yellow, I'll take him, but I can't promise anything."
Tim felt his shoulders fall at the force of his breath of relief. "Thanks, Steph. I owe you one."
There was a pause. "Take this one for free. Next time, though, you'll owe me big time."
Tim smiled fondly. "Yeah. I will."
The elevator doors closed with a heavy clang and a hiss.
Dick almost didn't answer the call.
He was worn out in a way that made him want to hide beneath the showerhead despite his wrinkly fingertips. He'd only just finished cleaning up the dried coffee rings and washing out the gross mugs when his phone rang loud enough to wake Jason up. He was lucky the man was so exhausted. Otherwise, he'd have a startled Red Hood and an annoying call to deal with.
Instead, it was just Bruce.
Or at least, he thought it was Bruce.
As soon as he hit the answer button, Batman's voice grumbled "Freeze is asking for you."
"Still?" Dick said, eyebrows furrowing.
Batman's silence was enough.
"I told you I don't want to see him."
There was another silence.
"No, B." Dick snapped.
"Dick -"
"Why do you want me to see him so badly?" Dick demanded.
"What did the goddess tell him?" Batman somehow made the question into a statement.
Dick's smart retort fizzled out. "What?"
"I saw the security footage. What did she say?"
Dick licked his lip, but he simply stared at the side of his cupboard.
"Dick -"
"Fine." Dick said. "I'll go tonight. Happy?"
Dick could hear the Batman's scowl through the phone, and he clenched his teeth. Before he could do or say anything he'd regret (or that would wake Jason), he hung up the phone.
It rang once, twice before Dick blocked Bruce's number.
(He'd unblock it later, but in the meantime, it felt good in a vindictive way that Dick knew he'd feel bad about once the sick feeling in his stomach lessened and his temper cooled.)
He took a deep breath, blood boiling as it raced through his veins. He fought it down bit by bit until he at least looked calm and made his way to the mountain of files he had printed out - his old cold cases. When he found Pantha's familiar snarling grin immortalized at the top of a sad pile, he clenched his fists. Then he carried it to his table and began to go through it, word by memorized word.
There wasn't anything else he could do for her.
(There wasn't anything else he could do for himself.)
Chapter 17: Frozen in the Place I Hide
Summary:
Dick put off going in the asylum until he couldn't deny that he was stalling. He ate dinner and chatted unnecessarily long with Alfred. He took Damian to get ice cream conveniently next to a newly opened African American art exhibition which immediately caught the younger's eye. When he finally made his way to the cave, he spent more time than necessary looking through files and watching video feeds.
The obligation to go hung over him as heavily as the shadow of the Batman.
So he did what he always did.
He put a little bit of bounce in his step, gave the most annoying grin he could, and he walked through the tall, twisting gates of Arkham Asylum.
Chapter Text
Damian tilted his sketchbook down on his knees, carefully checking to see if he'd stretched out the proportions by mistake. After shortening her lower face just a bit around the curve of her jaw, he tilted his drawing back to where it was comfortable. The graphite comfortingly whispered against the paper even as the boy grew more and more frustrated with the shape of her lower lid on the left eye.
Her image in his mind was grainy and faded despite feeling as though he was back in her presence last night.
In Dick's memory, she was a shining beacon with a wry turn of phrase that startled Damian. He wasn't sure why he'd expected Mary Grayson to be all soft edges and motherly pride, but the woman had more than one terrible joke, witty retorts that her husband couldn't reply to, and enough exuberance for him to wonder how much of Dick's quick tongue came from her.
He gently shaded where he was about to place wild, little eyelashes when her words drifted back to him.
"You are my little songbird. A gift on the first day of spring. Just outside was a little Robin singing a tune, and I knew he was just as happy as I was. That's you, my little Robin."
The little version of Dick had laughed and laughed, giggling and happy in a way that only children could be.
(And Damian had never been.)
He would have cursed in Arabic, but he could feel the imaginary sharp look that Dick would give him even if he wasn't there. However, cursing in English felt far less satisfying, far less of a relief. He just couldn't get the right shapes and lines. The woman on the page could have been Mary's sister, but she wasn't Mary.
She wasn't the beginning of Robin.
Damian set aside the pad of paper, instead curling back into the bed beneath the poster. He'd all but abandoned his room, and though he had taken the time to brush his teeth, eat, and do all manner of things necessary for day to day life, he hadn't returned to his room. Pennyworth obviously knew by the turn of the bed and the clean sheets, but he doubted his father did.
Not that his father couldn't figure it out, but he had no reason to figure it out.
Damian had long since realized that he did not count as a reason for his father.
He did for Grayson, though, and that was enough.
His phone vibrated, and Damian snatched the device off of the crowded nightstand. A text sat there waiting for him.
I'll see you at dinner tonight. Ice cream after?
After Grayson's message was an infernal emoticon that made him roll his eyes. He wrote back a short, swift agreement.
A weight slid off of his shoulders, warmth in his chest that hadn't been there before. With renewed vigor and a more discerning eye, he picked up his sketchbook and worked on bringing out Mary Grayson's features on the page.
Dick put off going in the asylum until he couldn't deny that he was stalling. He ate dinner and chatted unnecessarily long with Alfred. He took Damian to get ice cream conveniently next to a newly opened African American art exhibition which immediately caught the younger's eye. When he finally made his way to the cave, he spent more time than necessary looking through files and watching video feeds.
The obligation to go hung over him as heavily as the shadow of the Batman.
So he did what he always did.
He put a little bit of bounce in his step, gave the most annoying grin he could, and he walked through the tall, twisting gates of Arkham Asylum.
Nightwing was cautious as his footsteps sounded too loudly on the concrete. Though he kept up a shield of bubbly, confidence, his eyes shifted to every dark corner and occupied cell he passed. The guards were completely unconcerned as they led him, but he didn't drop his guard as inmates spat at him and shouted obscenities.
Then they came to a hallway that made Nightwing shiver. The hallway noticeably dropped in temperature, and as they slowly approached a looming door at the very end, Nightwing's breath ghosted before him like a soul leaving its body. The guards unlocked far too many locks with loud clicks and scrapes until all that was left to be done was for the doorknob to be turned.
Nightwing took a breath.
"Thanks for showing me the way, but I got it from here."
One of the guards shrugged, leaning against the wall. The others followed his example, staying close but going no further.
Nightwing walked through the door. It closed heavily behind him, the sound echoing in the small room.
Freeze was prepared for his visitor, handcuffed and chained. Tendrils of frost made its way up the metal, and Nightwing slowed to a stop as surprisingly wet eyes looked up at him. There were tears frozen on Mr. Freeze's face, and though Nightwing was rife with secret anxiety, he couldn't deny the pity that appeared on his face.
"I'm here." Nightwing said into the silence.
Freeze swallowed. Then he dropped to his knees. Nightwing nearly startled, but instead, he watched the man before him speak. "Please. Please."
"Please what?" Nightwing asked.
"What - What she - you said. Please." Freeze said, desperation spiking. "I'll do anything you ask of me. Just - I want her back."
"Do you swear?" Though it was Nightwing that spoke, there was a quiet rumble beneath his voice that was - different. Heavy. For a moment, he feared that the goddess would take over again, but he could still feel the chill against his face, the tingle in his veins. He was still himself, but the words that came out of his mouth weren't fully his. He felt like an actor in a play, pushed to say words that weren't his own that still had to find himself in each syllable and letter.
Though Nightwing felt he was playing the jester, Freeze stared at him like he was a saint.
"I swear. I'll do it."
"It will be hard work, Doctor."
"Anything for Nora." he whispered to the floor.
"You know what you're committing to." Nightwing said hesitantly. There was a sick feeling in his stomach as he knelt down across from the other man. "You won't be able to change your mind. This will become your life."
"I already signed it away for her once." Freeze said. "I don't regret it - not a single day. I'll happily do it again. Please, Nightwing."
Nightwing swallowed and nodded.
Then it was Nora who stood in front of Freeze, her eyes soft as she leaned forward. "Close your eyes."
Obediently, Freeze's eyes fluttered shut. Small, pale hands gently traced his face and settled over his eyes. A heavy mist sprang over the room, lighting up and glowing with a mystic light that felt like water when it touched skin. In the center of it, a brighter light than any exploded outwards, expelling the mist in one powerful gust of air.
There was a Mister Freeze there, but he was - different. He did not speak. He did not even seem to see.
Nora's hands slipped right through him, breaking the illusion like a wave shattering a reflection of the sky. She smiled.
Elsewhere, cold blue eyes opened for the first time in years.
Chapter 18: You Declared Me Dead, My Brother
Summary:
"Robin's a no go, RR." Batgirl's voice rang through, and Nightwing stopped right there beside the cold steel of the gate.
"Batgirl?" Nightwing asked, eyebrows raised. "Is Robin hurt?"
"Oh! No, no. He's fine." Batgirl stumbled. "Sorry! I didn't realize I was on the open coms."
"Easy mistake to make." Nightwing immediately dismissed, but his blood was still rushing through his veins.
"Red Robin asked me to watch the little brat, and I said I would, but he didn't want to go on patrol."
Nightwing wanted to ask immediately why Dami didn't want to go out. The kid always wanted to go out as Robin, but something in his gut clenched, pushing him to ask "Why did Red Robin ask you to do that?"
Chapter Text
Dick collapsed forward onto his hands and knees, swaying dangerously. Bursts of colors and darkness filled his vision, but he took a slow breath, refusing to pass out. He closed his eyes and swallowed. A part of him wanted to press his face to the ground, but there was absolutely no chance Dick would willingly put his face on the dirty floors of Arkham Asylum.
He wasn't crazy.
His fingers trembled as he slowly sat backwards on his haunches. His vision still swam a little, a ringing in his ears, but he felt a sharp, pitiful pride at barely clinging to consciousness.
He pulled his head up, coming face to face with Freeze's illusion.
His jaw tightened, and he quickly turned away, swallowing nausea. He faced the door, taking a slow breath to secure the guise of Nightwing before facing the guards just outside. By the time he'd been escorted down the halls and past the screeching laughs and insults, he had almost managed to shut down the guilty heaviness in his chest.
His com activated in his ear.
"Robin's a no go, RR." Batgirl's voice rang through, and Nightwing stopped right there beside the cold steel of the gate.
"Batgirl?" Nightwing asked, eyebrows raised. "Is Robin hurt?"
"Oh! No, no. He's fine." Batgirl stumbled. "Sorry! I didn't realize I was on the open coms."
"Easy mistake to make." Nightwing immediately dismissed, but his blood was still rushing through his veins.
"Red Robin asked me to watch the little brat, and I said I would, but he didn't want to go on patrol."
Nightwing wanted to ask immediately why Dami didn't want to go out. The kid always wanted to go out as Robin, but something in his gut clenched, pushing him to ask "Why did Red Robin ask you to do that?"
"He said he had a break in a case."
"So he went without backup?"
There was a pause.
"Oh, my god!" Steph burst out, Batgirl seeming to shed from her voice. "I didn't even think -"
"Hey, hey, it's okay. I got it." Nightwing soothed.
"You'll make sure he's not in over his head? Again?"
Nightwing smiled at her poor attempt at a joke, but he could hear the thinly veiled vulnerability beneath her voice. "I promise."
"Thanks, N."
The first hint that something was wrong wasn't when Nightwing realized that Red Robin's tracker was off. It wasn't when he found his normally messy space in the manor completely scrubbed clean, all trash and hints to his whereabouts gone. It wasn't when he saw the Red Robin suit in the cave, untouched. It wasn't when one of Nightwing's own sources let him know that there was unusual activity at the hotel where one Kate Grayson was staying (God, she really thought she could use his name without him knowing? He'd laugh if he had it in him). It wasn't when he discovered that the routes for all the Bats that night were carefully avoiding the warehouses on the east side of Gotham.
No. Those were all later.
It was as Dick, not Nightwing but the man beneath the mask, carefully staked out his third warehouse that the moment that should have rung the alarm bells smacked him in the face. It was there in his apartment, staring at Tim's far too dark eyes and flinching at the sharp hiss of his words when he all but snapped "Mirage can't get away with that."
I should have known. Dick thought, scowling. Why didn't I notice?
Dick's heart pounded as he reached the fourth warehouse and froze.
The door was open. It was just a crack, but Dick could see her dark hair cascading down her front, knotted and wild like she'd just been dragged out of bed. She was on her knees, face tilted upward toward the smallest bit of moonlight filtering through a window above. His mind dragged him back to a twilight room, hazy around the edges. Her nails running through his hair. Her breath on his face. Sultry words. The smell of bleach while he collapsed against the toilet, gagging.
A figure stepped in front of her, breaking his trance.
Tim.
Tim had a gun.
Tim had a gun pointed at Catalina's forehead.
Dick was running before he knew it.
He didn't know what happened. He didn't feel a thing, not bruised knuckles or broken skin or shattered trust, but when he was firmly back in his body, he found himself standing in front of - of her, and there was Timmy - holding a gun on him.
(Jason's face swam in front of his eyes, barking "Get out of the way, Dick.")
(Catalina's voice rumbled through his being, offering a freedom he regretted.)
(Why did it always end like this?)
"Tim." Dick said, voice harder than he felt. "Tim, think about what you're doing."
"I have." Tim replied, voice oddly distant. "I've done nothing but think about it."
Dick shook his head. "This isn't you."
Tim's eyes darkened. "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think."
Dick stared at him, looking at the young man who was his brother in all but blood. He stared at his bloodshot eyes, his messy hair, the giant hoodie that hung off his frame and somehow made him look small, and Dick saw far more than a stranger. Dick took a step closer. "I know you."
"You don't know everything I've done."
"I don't have to."
Tim wavered for a moment. Dick could see it as he readjusted his grip, his stance shifting back and forth. However, Dick found his heart sinking as Tim kept his eyes trained on Dick and his body ready. The younger Robin was clever - sometimes too clever for his own good. He'd seen the move Dick had pulled with Jason, and he clearly remembered.
Dick couldn't use the same move twice. His best bet was staying a human shield, a tool to be used.
(It wasn't like she hadn't used him before.)
Dick took a slow breath, gagging on that familiar perfume for just long enough for Tim's eyes to zero in on him like an experiment. The younger man drew himself to his full height, and Dick clenched his teeth hard enough to hurt.
"Walk away, Dick. Just walk away." Tim said.
It has to end. Dick thought, but the words burned off of his tongue before he could speak.
"She deserves it."
"We don't kill."
"Red Robin doesn't kill." Tim said, voice cold. "Tim Drake is a different story."
Dick shook his head. "Don't go down this road, Tim."
"I have to."
"You don't." Dick said, desperate. "You don't have to. You can come with me. We can go home. You and me. Right now. You don't have to do anything."
Tim stared at him. "You're right."
Relief, bright and light, flooded Dick for just a second.
Then Tim said "I want to."
And Dick felt that light flicker and fade.
Chapter 19: He Ain't Heavy, He's my Brother
Summary:
"She’s a rapist, D. No, it’s more than that. It’s that she’s your rapist, and that means she doesn’t deserve to live.”
“I agree.” came a voice from the darkness.
The Red Hood stepped out of the night and into the warehouse. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets nonchalantly - too nonchalantly.
“Hood.” Dick gasped, sounding winded despite standing completely still.
“Rapists deserve to meet their maker.” The Red Hood continued. “And since she touched someone I love, I’m more than willing to make sure she meets God soon and in a hell of a lot of pain. She deserves to die.”
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jason hadn’t planned on staying long. A short nap - maybe an hour or two - on Dick’s disgusting ass couch was all. He had a very busy day planned of driving to his safehouse, making food, butting into the case Tim had hidden from him, and ignoring all texts and calls from one Roy Harper.
However, his body refused.
After getting that first taste of rest, his body acted as though it were mana from the heavens - hoarding it against its master’s wishes.
Of course, that was primarily because Jason had subsisted on anger alone for far too long. The last good night sleep he’d had was the night before word hit that the invasion was coming. During the alien siege, Jason had caught a measly two hours, and the only time he’d been able to rest afterward was when he’d been dragged unwillingly into Dick’s memories.
(Though he’d had the chance to sleep after his showdown with Batman.)
(But Jason just couldn’t. Not when Dick’s excuses and adamant denial of Bruce’s abuse wore him down to the nerve, making him question everything.)
(Making him wonder if he’d the same look in his eye as a small child, using feisty quips and split knuckles to deny what Willis was doing to him.)
All that to say that Jason spent seconds to hours to minutes to days drifting between shadowy dreams, whispered memories, and a strange awareness of Dick’s apartment around him as he laid there.
One moment, both months and mere seconds from when he’d fallen asleep, he found himself sitting by the window, watching Dick. He had his eyes turned away from the open file on the table, slumped shoulders instead facing the coffee machine as it slowly filled an old, chipped mug.
(He thought he remembered that mug. For a moment, he wondered if he had been the one to chip it, but the thought was blurry and gone so fast that he didn’t even remember having it.)
Jason’s eyes slid down to the file, scowling at the lively picture as a voice cried out in the back of his mind Dick, you slut! So tell me, who was better?
It is unwise to bear grudges against the dead, Fire Heart.
The echo of the goddess didn’t shock Jason. Somehow, he always knew she was there, though he couldn’t see her. There was a tingle on the back of his neck, a breath against his cheek that in real life would have made his fighting instincts rear up wildly but was nothing but a soft hello in his dream.
Nonetheless, Jason scowled. “Get the fuck out of my head.”
There is much to see yet.
“I’ve seen enough.”
Time fights against you. Fire Heart, you must see.
“I must do fucking nothing!” Jason suddenly roared. He stood up, blood boiling through his veins as Dick leaned against the counter, looking for all the world like his shoulders were holding stacks on stacks of invisible weights. He could almost imagine them, spiked and rusted with age and tears, digging into Dick’s back and neck, trying to drag him down. “Look at what us knowing has already done!”
No, Fire Heart. Her voice sounded sad, sad and like she was trying to pretend not to be - She sounded like his mother. Now you see what was already there, but he needs you to see.
Jason shook his head. “I’m done seeing.”
However, when Jason stood, he was suddenly in a warehouse - and the replacement was pointing a gun at him.
“Whoa, there, Tim-Tam -” Jason started, but Tim’s words cut through his voice immediately.
“Walk away, Dick. Just walk away.” Jason turned his back on the gun despite his screaming instincts, eyes landing on Dick’s still form. Behind him was a woman, staring up at Dick with so much reverence and relief that Jason had trouble processing it as Tim continued, saying “She deserves it.”
Fury, lethally green, filled his vision and overtook the image of the victim he saw and turned her into the demon he knew she was.
You are the Chosen of my Chosen. Prove yourself. His mother’s voice echoed, and it took Jason a moment of reeling to speak.
“You want - You want me to defend her?” Jason roared. “Fuck that. Replacement’s right! Let him shoot her. It’s the least she deserves.”
Suddenly, the youthful Dick from Jason’s Robin days was there, blocking his vision. He wore that old leather jacket that Jason could so clearly remember despite the holes in his memories (but no one needed to know about that, about what the pit hadn’t been able to return). Dick’s eyes were too harsh, and Jason felt himself prickle at the goddess’s theft of his mind, of Dick’s body, of Dick’s memories -
Your plight is that of ballads, Fire Heart, but the worm feasts on clear skies.
Jason jerked back, heart suddenly pounding as everything but him and his false brother fell away. The young Dick reached out, grabbing his face with sure hands. “What are you -”
I would but to rip it from you, but I fear you feed from it as it eats at you.
“Don’t - Don’t -”
It will take more than you to eat the pit.
And even though every instinct Jason had was screaming at him not to, he violently pushed his brother’s (no, no, Not Dick’s) hands away from him. His words ripped out like the high whistle of a freight train. “You don’t fuckin’ know anything about me! About humanity! You’re a fucking monster!”
And you know humanity, Fire Heart?
The words drew him up short, and Jason didn’t have the time to regret his words before he was suddenly falling, falling, falling. He hit the ground hard, knees painfully locking and popping before he spilled to the ground on all fours. When he looked up, he was staring at Nightwing -
No. Not Nightwing.
At himself, young and angry and pit mad, desecrating the mantle of Nightwing with blood.
Is this humanity, Fire Heart?
His feet began to sink into the concrete, and when he looked down, he was standing on soil, dark and just sprouting grass when it began to shift and move. Jason stumbled backwards only to watch with some form of quiet horror as hands broke through the earth and dragged out the body of a boy -
A fourteen-year-old boy who once was Robin.
He could taste the grit and gravel in his mouth, and he coughed thickly as the goddess’s voice echoed through the night.
Is this humanity?
And suddenly, he was trapped behind glass and a plaque that read “Jason Todd, a Good Soldier.”
Jason slammed his fists on the glass, but it was useless. He couldn’t so much as make a sound as he watched his younger self approach the glass with an exaggerated swagger, trying to hide the military gait that Batman had trained into his each and every step.
As the glass shattered, he was suddenly in Titans Tower -
And his younger self in that stupid rip off of the Robin costume - corrupting even that - was beating Tim within an inch of his life -
Jason could only think He was so young -
Is this humanity, Fire Heart? Or is this a monster?
Then there was a girl. A girl was standing in front of him. She was small, so small, and she had that horrifying doll mask on her face. She didn’t say anything, just staring, and Jason’s voice ripped out of his throat in a wretched way.
“Scarlet?”
She slowly walked towards him, sliding to her knees. When the goddess’s voice spoke once more, it was gentle - oddly so in the girl’s voice which had never been soft nor soothing.
I am not human. I am humanity. You must understand, Fire Heart.
“I - don’t.” Jason barely managed through the taste of dirt in his mouth.
Can you see?
“I’ve seen enough.”
Yet you do not understand.
“What do you want from me?” Jason gasped out.
You are the Chosen of my Chosen. Prove yourself.
Jason wanted to demand what that was supposed to mean, what any of this was for, but instead, anger racketed up within him, and he glared at the child before snarling “No. You’re not going to manipulate me.”
Jason clenched his fists, but suddenly, there was grass between his fingers. His eyes shot up.
He was in a grassy field, and in front of him were two people -
And Jason knew immediately that he was looking at John and Mary Grayson.
John looked so much like Dick that Jason stared. The way the man's lips twisted upwards, his jawline, his messy hair - it all screamed Dick Grayson.
However, Jason looked into Mary’s eyes, and he found his brother.
Further off in the field, there was a child. The child jumped and laughed, launching into cartwheels and flips with the kind of abandon that Jason had only started to know when he’d taken up Robin’s mantle.
“I think our act is lacking.” Mary said too conversationally for John’s reaction.
“Lacking?” John gaped.
“Yes.” Mary smiled.
“But - But we’re the Flying Graysons.”
“Yes.” She agreed, drawing out the word almost playfully. Jason’s eyebrows furrowed at the familiar mischief he caught in her voice.
“We’re one of the only ones in the world to be able to perform a quadruple flip. We perform without a net. We’re Haly’s top headliner. What more could you want, Mary?”
“More members, I think.” Mary said, eyes sparkling.
“More members? But the Flying Graysons are a family act!” John exclaimed, flabbergasted as realization hit Jason.
“It is.” Mary agreed slowly, and both she and Jason stared at John until his face went slack with understanding.
“Wait - You want - Now? Us? Another?” John stuttered out, cheeks red, and Mary laughed, eyes too soft as they turned from John to the child wearing himself out in the grass.
“Dick would make a good big brother.”
John’s eyes softened.
Pain, sharp and ragged, shot through Jason’s chest, and he dropped his gaze to the soil and grass in front of him. He blinked a few more times than necessary. “He did. He is - a good brother.”
There was a pause, and then a soft “Thank you.”
He looked up, and it was him and Mary. She stood alone in the field, eyes bluer than blue and staring directly at him. She stood tall in red, green, and yellow - the original Robin costume somehow right on her. She bent over to take his face in her hands and gently pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Thank you, my little Robin. Jason.”
A lump formed in his throat, and he whispered “No. No, I’m not doing this-”
She smiled at him. “I’m not her, Robin.”
Jason didn’t know what to do, what to think, but he didn’t have to as she raked a hand through his hair until eons later (seconds later), he said “This is a dream.”
“It is.” she agreed.
“I don’t want to wake up.”
“Dreams are boring if you don’t wake up.”
“I wasn’t supposed to wake up.” Jason admitted like it was a shameful secret.
However, Mary just smiled at him. “Of course, you were.”
And just like that, he felt confidence and comfort cut through the fear, the uncertainty, the anxiety until it wasn’t there at all. He stood, and suddenly, Mary was gone.
In her place was the young Dick once more.
“What do you want?” Jason snarled.
The time is too short to waste. You must see.
Jason scowled, ready to turn away when he was suddenly in a cheap hotel room. The sound of rain pounded outside, and he found himself staring at a blonde woman as she pulled a duffle bag over her shoulder.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason snapped just as Nightwing stepped out of a dark corner, and -
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused?” Nightwing said.
However, Jason couldn’t concentrate on his words when he saw his state.
Tim hadn’t been exaggerating.
Nightwing’s hair was long, longer than he liked to keep it, and he had a five o’ clock shadow that told a story Jason didn’t want to know. He was covered in cuts and bruises and blood, and his suit was not only obviously too thin (like Nightwing) but had tiny nicks and cuts everywhere. As the vigilante’s hair dripped onto his wet shoulders, Jason watched his steps fall far too heavily, dread creeping up his spine.
“Look, I was following a legitimate story.” the blonde woman said, a harsh scowl on her face. “I sympathize with you, kid, but I’m not the one running around with a life-threatening secret.”
“Thirty-five lives are on your -”
“Bull!” snapped the woman, and Nightwing’s gaze dropped, his jaw too tense. “I just made the connection a few hours ago. If Desmond made it before then, that’s on your head.”
“Bitch. How about fuckin’ blame the villain.” Jason snarled as Nightwing turned away, shoulders defeatedly falling down.
Jason watched as the woman’s blue eyes softened, seeing almost all that Jason could see. Though her voice was unapologetic, it was softer as she said “I just told him Grayson was a cop who got shot in the shoulder -”
Jason’s eyes flickered to Nightwing disapprovingly. “Shot?”
“- and was too good to have been unceremoniously fired. I guess he had someone else watching you as Nightwing, put two and two together.”
Jason stepped closer, catching sight of the way Nightwing’s chin wobbled and face screwed up, and unease hit him harshly. He hadn’t thought about it, but N had been - had been young. It was hard to imagine Nightwing as anything but older, better, braver, (Bruce's golden child) but the man in front of him - Jason was older than him. This Nightwing was young and alone and starting to crash.
And he didn’t have a Nightwing who he could look to as an example. He had to learn firsthand what happened when a psychopath found out the big secret.
For the first time, Jason suddenly realized just how alone the man was.
(And he hated Bruce for it - hated him beyond hate, hated so deeply that he had to pretend that it was actually hatred he felt and not something far more potent.)
The woman’s eyebrows raised, and concern took over her face. She reached out, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Listen, son . . .”
She gathered Nightwing to her in a close side hug, both arms clutching his in a way that seemed to cut Nightwing’s strings. Jason’s chest went tight as he recognized the softness for what it was - the first bit of kindness that Nightwing had gotten in far too long.
“. . . It’s his fault, all right? The bad guy’s.” she said with that mothering sternness and gentility that had Jason’s mind reeling back to Mary’s sparkling gaze. “You lost that building, but the war goes on, and you put yourself on the front line every –”
A loud crack filled the room, and on instinct, Jason threw himself at Nightwing to flatten him to the ground, to safety. Instead, he flew right through him, crashing next to the bed -
Next to the blonde woman’s body. There was a hole through her head, and Jason stared through the sludge that used to be her kindness and her strict words and her entire being. His eyes raised to Nightwing -
But it wasn’t Nightwing anymore.
That was Dick - That was his big brother locked in place, staring in horror. Her blood stained his suit, his face, and - and brain matter was -
“Nightwing, I’m so glad you’re here.” said a deep voice as what was left of the window shattered, howling winds sweeping the room as the rain shifted from distant noise to a cold, loud presence. A goliath of a man stepped into the room, a sick grin on his face as he looked at the woman.
There was a gun in his hand.
Jason was on his feet before it hit him that he couldn’t feel the wind, touch the broken glass. Dick was here alone, looking less like King David and more like one of the poor souls who were killed before David ever set foot on the battlefield.
“What did you do?” Dick gasped out.
“I’m just tidying up loose ends, but this gives me a perfect opportunity to talk to you about your future . . .” said the man that could only be Desmond. The giant held up the gun teasingly. “. . . which, as it happens, is going to look a lot like this.”
“She’s dead.” Dick dropped into a crouch. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“There isn’t one Nightwing.” Desmond grinned, relishing every word. “Not one. That’s the best part.”
And suddenly, everything seemed to still, because Jason understood. He knew why Dick’s voice was so hushed when he whispered about the man in front of him. He knew why Dick’s eyes went distant and stormy when he spoke about what happened. He knew why his words had been so hollow even years after all that was left of Desmond were ghost stories.
This man wasn’t a villain of the week. He wasn’t the average scumbag who acted on impulse and hatred.
No, Desmond was clever. He understood what he was doing to Nightwing - to Dick. He knew that he was ripping him to shreds, taking away everyone and everything in a way that Dick might never recover from. He knew that the only way out would be for Dick to completely violate and destroy his own beliefs and soul.
Desmond relished the destruction of Dick Grayson. He was enjoying his suffering.
No matter what Dick did, Desmond won.
Dick launched into a painfully graceless kick, knocking the gun aside.
“Nor is there a single good reason for me to harm a hair on your head. So you’re Dick Grayson by day, who cares? It’s a useful piece of information, but it’s not the real secret . . .”
Dick sprang forward, placing an escrima stick against his neck and almost choking the man. His voice was animalistic as he snarled “If you go near any of them, I swear to God, I’ll -”
“Oh, yes, I know, I know. That’s the secret, the essential truth of your nature. You could take every beating I could dish out. You might even enjoy them.” Desmond said as he slammed back an elbow the size of Dick’s entire side into his ribs.
“Dick!” Jason cried out as Nightwing burst through the wall, wood and paneling breaking. Dick let out a cry of his own when he made a final impact against the wall in the hallway and slammed to the ground. Jason raced to him, watching as Dick gasped and heaved against the floor.
“You have absolutely no regard for your personal safety.” Desmond continued on, and Jason didn’t see it as he picked up the gun.
“But the people around you – Well!”
Dick suddenly jumped through Jason with a shout of “Down!”
Dick was covering a man with his body, clearly exhausted and distraught. However, Desmond only seemed vaguely amused as he turned the turn to the opposite direction - toward another civilian.
“That’s a different matter, isn’t it?”
“Don’t!” Dick yelled, and a batarang sliced through the air - and Desmond’s hand. As the monster of a man pulled the weapon out of his hand with a sickening squelch, Dick ran forward. He dropped into a handstand in front of him before propelling his body upward into a double kick beneath Desmond’s jaw.
Jason’s eyes widened, taken back at the sheer amount of strength and flexibility Dick still had at his worst.
“Dick . . .”
But then Jason truly saw the worst. It was like a demon, desperate and blood-thirsty, took over his brother. He began beating the man backwards down the long hallway as Desmond goaded him on. Every hit was too hard, nothing pulled back, and his movements were like lightning - deadly and fast.
“I’ll take out the people you care about – Hell, even strangers you stand next to on the street – You won’t be able to shake someone’s hand without marking them for death! Do you like being alone, Dick?”
And something deep beneath Jason’s steely expression and tense muscles whispered He shouldn’t be alone.
“Shut up, Rolly! Just shut up!” Dick’s voice seemed to almost scream.
He hit him so hard that Desmond stumbled backwards through a door and tumbled over a railing. There was a crash, loud and clanging, and then Dick was launching himself like an avenging god, a hungry animal, a devouring demon over the railing.
Jason felt words, Desmond’s deep, rumbling words, draw him toward the door and down the steps.
“I’ll make sure you can’t save any of them. I’ll make sure you relive, over and over, your failure to save my mother! Which has now become your failure to save your relationship –”
Jason caught sight of Dick, standing over the downed goliath, kick him in the face. Blood splattered the wall, and Jason whispered “Dick.”
“-- your circus –”
Dick threw a vicious punch in Desmond’s face, and a loud crunch reached Jason as thick streams of blood ran down the giant’s face.
“-- the residents of your building –”
Jason froze as Desmond grinned through the blood at Dick, grotesque joy on his face as he said “-- Ms. Michaels –”
“Get out of the way, Nightwing.”
Jason startled, eyes wandering to -
Her.
It was the same woman he’d seen in the warehouse behind Dick, except that she was put together with a spider’s emblem on her chest. His heart began to pound, and not because of the gun in her hands.
Dick was frozen, clutching Desmond with his other fist pulled back and ready to strike.
“But he won’t. Don’t you see, you stupid girl? This very moment, he’s thinking of how to save me from you!” crowed Desmond, and Jason hated him - hated every part of the man in front of him more than he could ever say.
(More than that, he hated that he was right.)
(Not about this, because Jason knew that the monster was deader than dead, but that Desmond had been right about Nightwing’s lack of care for himself, about Nightwing enjoying a fight, because they all did - they were all sick - but that was different.)
(It was different feeling like you deserved to be hit. Jason knew, and he hated that he knew.)
“Even my life is more important to him than his own! And that’s how I’ll take him apart. Loved one by loved one, innocent by innocent . . .” Jason shivered at the hard look on Dick’s face as Desmond continued “It will never stop.”
Jason stepped down closer to Dick, wishing he were actually able to do something instead of getting closer to the bitch who - who -
“It’s never going to stop.”
Dick’s hand faltered, dropping Desmond to the ground. And even though Jason desperately wanted goliath dead, his head separated from his shoulders, his brain splattered on the floor, sheer and unadulterated horror went through him at the knowledge of what was going to happen.
(Desmond had won.)
(Fuck, what was Tim doing?)
( Fuck, what had he done? )
Every slow step Dick took around the villain hurt Jason viscerally, and only once Dick was out of the way did he look at the woman clutching the gun.
BANG!
Jason could hear his heart pounding in his ears, loud and insistent as the drum in a death march. His eyes were locked on the body - the motherfucker who drove Dick to the point of - of clutching his chest and stumbling away.
Jason heard his steps echoing through the stairwell in a desperate, clumsy gait that was everything Dick wasn’t.
Jason gave one more cursory glance to the dead man below him and spat at the ground before turning on his heel. He followed the stairs up, wincing at the smears of blood on the railing.
For just a moment, there was a buzzing feeling, a yank in his chest, and Jason recognized it - He recognized it from the Batcave after he died and from the warzone where Mirage laughed -
Jason fought it, using his screaming instincts to follow his brother - to stay in the memory.
The open door to the roof was right there. Jason had just caught sight of his big brother collapsing to his knees in the pouring rain when something touched his chest.
He jerked backwards, nearly falling down the stairs as his Dick, the youthful Dick, materialized in front of him.
A snarling grimace melded onto his face. “You.”
Fire Heart. Her voice, Dick’s voice, echoed despite the fact that his lips didn’t move. You must awaken.
“I need to see -”
You have seen. He needs you now. She stated simply, and something inside of Jason’s chest roared, because it was at that moment that Tarantula made her way up the steps and straight through them.
To Dick.
“She’s about to -”
You cannot change the past, only the future.
Over the youthful Dick’s shoulder, Jason watched as she touched the more broken man. Jason couldn’t look away, not even as he said “Why are you doing this to us?”
Calloused fingers touched his cheek far too gently. There are times where kindness is merely delayed cruelty. Healing is pain. Wisdom is earned through suffering.
Jason would never admit it, but he could feel his eyes and nose burning. “Dick needs me?”
The Lost Boy and the Gray One need you.
It hurt. It felt like a knife sunken between his ribs was being forced upwards through bone and marrow. It was like watching as his fingers slipped into lava without his consent until bubbling, burning madness was gnawing at his wrist. It was like choosing to cut the words “I love you” into his chest over his heart while the people that loved him screamed.
It was like whispering “Wake me up” as he watched his brother, broken and in desperate need of someone, anyone but her, be pushed to the wet ground so that a Tarantula could eat him alive.
Awaken. The goddess whispered.
I’m sorry. Jason thought.
“Just listen to me, Tim -”
“Get out of the way, Dick.” Tim said, voice hard as stone. The gun in his hand didn’t waver even as he pointed it at his big brother.
“I can’t do that, Timmy.” Dick whispered, voice far softer than it normally was, and that tone of voice brought him back to Dick’s long, staggering pauses and whispers when he’d been on that rooftop -
Tim turned off the safety. “Just walk away, Dick. That’s all you have to do, and it’ll be over.”
Dick shook his head. “It’s never over, Timmy. You know that just as well as I do.”
Tim swallowed, nauseous at the imaginary stench of rotting sewage and rain drops dripping down his neck. “No. No, no, no, I can end this.”
Dick took another step forward.
Tim jerked backwards. “Don’t you want her gone? Don’t you want her away from you? For good?”
Dick wavered, and his adam's apple bobbed.
Catalina raised her head weakly, seeming to catch Dick’s hesitation. “Mi cariño?”
“Shut up!” Tim snapped, and Dick flinched. Tim’s eyes widened, and he let out a stuttering breath. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, D, I’m sorry. I never wanted you here for this. I didn’t - I - She’s a monster. What she did - She deserves to die. Don’t you understand? She got to live her life. She got to walk away from that rooftop, and you didn’t. You said you have good days, but do you? Did you ever get to actually leave it behind? Because I can’t - I can’t stop feeling the rain and hearing her voice -”
Tim choked, his hold on the gun wavering for the first time. A heartbroken look came over Dick’s face as he whispered “Baby bird.”
Tim shook his head. “I saw the change, Dick. I saw it when you changed, but I didn’t know what it was. Now that I know what she - what she did - you want me to just let her go? She’s a rapist, D. No, it’s more than that. It’s that she’s your rapist, and that means she doesn’t deserve to live.”
“I agree.” came a voice from the darkness.
The Red Hood stepped out of the night and into the warehouse. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets nonchalantly - too nonchalantly.
“Hood.” Dick gasped, sounding winded despite standing completely still.
“Rapists deserve to meet their maker.” The Red Hood continued. “And since she touched someone I love, I’m more than willing to make sure she meets God soon and in a hell of a lot of pain. She deserves to die.”
Dick made an awful, quiet noise, and Tim felt cold concrete against his forehead.
“But this isn’t how.”
Tim flinched. “How can you say that?”
“Because I think that if anyone has the right to choose somebody’s fate, it’s the person they hurt.” Jason said. “Don’t you think Dick should have a say? Don’t you think his choices have been trampled over enough?”
“But - But -”
“Shut the fuck up and look at what you’re doing, Replacement.”
Tim wanted to argue, wanted to scream, but then he looked at Dick. His face was pale, and the under-eye bags that Tim had often complained that Dick didn’t seem to have were not only there but deep and dark as bruises. His lips were parted to breathe from, and each breath was shallow, and -
And Tarantula’s hand was on the back of his shin, clutching hard enough that Dick had to feel her nails digging into his skin.
“Dick . . .” Tim breathed, tears beginning to pearl up on his lashes. “Dick . . .”
I did that to him. Tim thought, horrified. Deathstroke was right. I don’t deserve him.
The gun clattered to the ground, and Tim rushed forward. Dick was there in an instant, grabbing ahold of him tightly enough to leave bruises, but Tim didn’t care.
“I’m sorry.” Tim choked on gasping breaths. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,I’msorryI’msorrysorry -”
“It’s okay, Timmy.” Dick said, and of all things, he laughed. It was an awful sound. Even someone who didn’t know what Dick’s laugh was supposed to sound like would cry from hearing it, and Tim felt hot tears streak down his face. “Everything is okay.”
“Go.” Hood said too gently. “I’ll handle things here.”
Before Tim could say anything, Dick was hefting him up into his arms like he was a kid again. He couldn’t imagine it was comfortable. He’d gained muscle and height since then, but Dick merely stumbled for a moment before walking towards the exit. Tim clutched onto his clothes, unwilling to let go, and for a moment, he could imagine that it was Nightwing swooping Robin out of danger.
But it wasn’t.
It was Dick Grayson carrying his brother.
In any other instance, Tim would have objected, but instead, he pressed his face against Dick’s shoulder and shut his eyes.
The rain had finally stopped.
Notes:
Fun fact.
This is the second version of this chapter. The first version was two paragraphs away from being posted when I lost the entire thing and my mind with it.
However, I think this version may be better than the original, so I'll save the bitterness for another day.
Thank you for all the lovely comments! I adore reading them even if I'm severely behind on responding. <3
Chapter 20: There's Nothing in This World I Wouldn't Do
Summary:
"What were you thinking?" Dick whispered.
Tim's eyes raised to Dick, and he couldn't help but catalogue the turn of his lips, the pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, the purple stains beneath his eyes.
Tim wanted to lie.
He wanted to lie until Dick calmed, until his shoulders dropped with relief, until he could sweep everything away and pretend it was a lapse in judgment.
Instead, Tim said "I was thinking of you wanting to join Deathstroke."
Chapter Text
The warehouse was silent.
After Dick's heavy, stumbling but driven steps had faded into the night, that left only Jason and her. Every second in her presence made his skin crawl, but he didn't dare move, instead focusing on the minutes as they passed by far too slowly. Her eyes were hard, unreadable as she surveyed him. However, she seemed to have found what she was looking for, because she climbed to her feet and threw her snarly curls over her shoulder. There was a calculating smile on her lips, not unfriendly but certainly not inviting.
It made Jason sick.
"I have to thank you -"
A gunshot ripped through the night.
Catalina flinched backwards, but it took a moment for the pain to set in. "Fuck, fuck! You shot me!"
She clutched a bloody hand to her chest, a gory hole right through the center of it. She let out a hissing growl, almost doubling over before forcing herself upright and starting to back up.
"Time's up." Jason stated, and her eyes went wild.
Jason's steps were sure and quick, and when he lunged, he held back no fury. Even without her hand, her moves were dangerous and - and recognizable. As she stepped into a hook kick that Jason suddenly and violently remembered Dick teaching him, green raised up beneath his skin. She'd taken too much from Dick for her body to distort his dance.
And a distortion it was.
Though she was well trained, her moves were unrestrained and paled in comparison to Nightwing - and that was her doom.
When she tried to go from a one-handed roundhouse into a flying kick, her momentum was too much. She flew forward with no ability to reign herself in, no control, no discipline.
All Jason had to do was neatly step out of the way as she hit the concrete with a sharp breath. Her hand automatically curled tightly into her chest, and Jason took great pleasure at the quiet cry she gave when he kicked her onto her back. He sat on her middle, straddling her and effectively keeping his weight shifted where she couldn't buck him off.
"Lemme go, pendejo -" she began to mutter.
Jason pulled a knife from out of his pocket. "Stop squirming, bitch."
Her eyes caught on the knife, rage that echoed his own in her eyes. "You shot me."
"You raped my brother."
She went still. Her lips thinned.
"Not gonna defend yourself? Try to convince me I'm wrong?"
She gave him a smile that looked like a snarl, a bit of her own blood splattered and smeared on her chin. "You don't care if I'm innocent. This suits you. You want an excuse to kill me? Go ahead. Lie to yourself. See his face when he finds out what you've done after talking so noble."
Jason stared at her for a long, unnerving moment. Then he said very, very slowly "I'm not going to kill you."
Catalina laughed.
"I'm not gonna kill you." Jason said again, and her wild grin fell, the color beginning to drain from her face.
"Let me go." she hissed, a bit of panic beginning to thrum through her veins. "No, no - Aghhhhh!"
Jason pinned her bleeding hand to the dirty ground, pressing his thumb brutally against broken bones and destroyed flesh. Catalina's back arched, and she tried desperately to buck him off, but she could barely see through the pain as he began to readjust. Then his boot, crushingly heavy and unyielding, pressed the damaged limb into the floor, black blood staining the moonlight.
"You touched my brother with this hand." Jason said monotonously.
Catalina managed to open one eye, her gaze catching on the knife. She curled her other hand into her chest, trying to turn away, but a large hand wrapped around her good wrist. "No!"
"Is that what he said on that rooftop?" Jason asked as he pried her hand away and pinned it to the dirty ground on her other side.
"I was helping him!" Catalina cried out, still struggling and wheezing with pain. "He wasn't okay. I was helping him feel better! Distracting him! I was helping him!"
"And I'm helping you keep your hands to yourself." Jason stated, brandishing the knife once more.
There were no more words said.
There was no one there to hear them, anyway.
Dick had carried Tim to his motorcycle wordlessly before finally setting him down, but even then, he was a flurry of movement. Dick was tossing Tim the helmet (despite the fact that Dick only had one) and swiftly clicking the buckle before Tim fully realized he'd even put it on his head. Tim got on the bike behind Dick, feeling oddly slow in comparison to his brother's fast fingers as they twitched on the handlebars. When he revved the engine, Tim said nothing. He merely clung tighter to Dick, holding on through the drizzle and the fog.
Dick's body was thrumming with energy, but not the kind that had him running around and giddy or chasing trains while laughing into the night.
This was different. This was wrong. This was the kind of energy that had him whipping through the streets but being oddly careful around the corners to pretend everything was okay.
Tim felt it, too. He could feel her presence infecting the air, smell her honeysuckle perfume long after they'd left the warehouse behind.
Tim tightened his hold, squeezing his eyes shut. Guilty, shapeless thoughts drifted through his mind. Normally, he'd organize them and focus on them depending on varying levels of importance. He'd make his plans and plots before filing them away in the recesses of his mind for another day.
But he'd plotted enough.
When Dick pulled up to his apartment building, Tim watched as the older man parked haphazardly and nearly startled as the warmth of the building hit him.
"Dick . . ."
But Tim couldn't think of words to say.
They lapsed into silence, silence that lasted until Tim was nestled onto Dick's couch the way he should have been that morning.
One day. Less than a day. That's how long it took Tim to put that wretched look on Dick's face.
"What were you thinking?" Dick whispered.
Tim's eyes raised to Dick, and he couldn't help but catalogue the turn of his lips, the pinched wrinkle between his eyebrows, the purple stains beneath his eyes.
Tim wanted to lie.
He wanted to lie until Dick calmed, until his shoulders dropped with relief, until he could sweep everything away and pretend it was a lapse in judgment.
Instead, Tim said "I was thinking of you wanting to join Deathstroke."
Dick's every muscle stiffened and froze in a way that way that was even more unnatural after his fidgeting anxiety. "I told you I wasn't going to -"
"You told me that I was old enough. That I was capable." Tim interrupted, fists clenching in his lap. "You told me that it was time you started treating me like an adult but that you'd need a reminder sometimes. So - So this is it. I can handle this, Dick. You don't have to lie to me."
Dick breathed in sharply. Then a sliver of a smile, somehow both bitter and proud, slipped onto his lips. "I wasn't fair to you."
How can you say that? Tim thought. How can you say that after I let her touch you again?
"When I gave Damian Robin, I wasn't fair to you." Dick continued, and Tim forgot how to breathe. "None of us were. All of us - Alfred, me, Bruce - we all knew that you'd grown past Robin for a while. You were ready to be a hero in your own right, ready to be next to us and take on your own persona, build your own person, but we didn't treat you like it. I never should have expected you to be ready to step out of Robin when we'd so stubbornly kept you there for so long."
Tim swallowed. "No. You were right. It was time."
Dick gave him a wry look, sitting down next to him on the couch. "Now look who's lying."
Tim shook his head. "No. Damian needed Robin. He needed it like we all needed it at some point. And I - I didn't anymore."
Dick raised an eyebrow. "You go by Red Robin."
Tim laughed. "Maybe I just don't have much imagination."
"Tim . . ."
"Really, Dick. It's - It's okay." Tim took a deep breath. "And I'm sorry, too. For how I reacted. It wasn't - That was wrong. I shouldn't have - I wish I -"
He huffed, scowling.
Dick set a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Hey. It's okay -"
"I just wanted to be your Robin." Tim blurted out.
Dick blinked. "What?"
"I - I . . ." Tim closed his eyes. "I remember the early days, you know? After - After we started being more like brothers, and I remember when you started - started disappearing into yourself. It's why I went after her when I found out. Because you were so far away, you got distant even when you were right there, and she was the one that - that did it. But I didn't know that back then. I didn't know what she'd done or the full extent of what happened in Bludhaven. I just knew that if you were going to be Batman, then - then maybe I could have you back. Everything would be better. But then - then that didn't happen, and Bruce - I knew it was a crazy idea that he was alive, but - I just wanted one thing. I thought the universe owed me somehow. It's just - not real anymore when people die."
"Tim, that's not good." Dick said slowly.
"I know that!" Tim snapped before his jaw clenched. "I know that. It's just that people keep coming back, and - and I'm glad. I'm glad, and I'm so grateful, but now, every time it's like I'm just waiting for who's going to walk back through that door and say that I wasn't good enough to tell."
"Tim, Tim, no." Dick said. "It was never about you not being good enough."
Tim stared before finally saying "Isn't it always? That's - That's why you almost followed Deathstroke, isn't it?"
"No." Dick said, but Tim kept going.
"Because - Because the only thing he can offer you that we can't is his willingness to kill for you. Because - Because of the code - Because of Batman's code, people who hurt you are out there walking the streets. But you don't need Deathstroke! I'll do it! You don't have to be alone -"
Dick pulled him into a hug, and Tim's jaw clamped shut.
"Tim," Dick whispered, and Tim's fingers found a purchase in the warmth of Dick's shirt. "Tim, I'm not alone."
Tim's mind shuttered to a stop. "But - But everything points to -"
Dick pulled back, eyes crystal sharp as he stared at Tim. "You're smart, Tim. You're a better detective than Bruce, and you have the ability to be a better man than him - a better Batman, too. Bruce's problem is that he relies so much on his intellect, on all the puzzle pieces and evidence that he forgets one important thing."
"What?"
"The human element." Dick said.
"What are you saying?" Tim asked.
"I'm saying that I would never choose Deathstroke the Terminator over you." Dick stated, and the words hit Tim like a battering ram.
"I don't understand." Tim admitted.
"Tim, you're more than good enough. You know you're a good detective, but you're a good brother, too. And we love you." Dick swallowed. "But we're human. When you didn't become my partner, it was because of that - because you were an amazing Robin, but I still loved that kid you were and couldn't see the adult you'd become fast enough. I wanted you on my team as a mentor for Damian. Maybe the logic fell that you weren't good enough or that I wasn't good enough -"
"Dick, no -"
"But the truth is just that we're human. And when you didn't know about - about going undercover, about Stephanie, about - Well, none of that was about you not being good enough to keep the secret, either. You are good enough."
"Then why were you tempted?" Tim asked quietly. "Why did you consider going with him?"
Dick's eyes drifted away, unseeing. When he finally spoke, his words were low as though telling a secret that even he himself wasn't supposed to know. "There's too much between me and Slade. I don't want you to understand it. It's - twisted. Sick. There were days I thought he was coming to the light, days where he thought he'd finally dragged me down, but there's been too much betrayal and pettiness between us to even make the - the good days worth it. I will never join Deathstroke the Terminator so long as I live. I can promise you that, Tim."
The two stared at each other for a long moment.
Then Tim breathed out, long and slow. "I believe you."
Dick smiled, eyes softening in a way that took Tim right back to when he'd been young and stupid with a camera in hand.
And Tim, sitting there, suddenly realized how much better it felt than a lie and a relieved slump of the shoulders. How much better it felt than every mission report, every bit back word, every time he'd snarled insults or turned his back instead of speaking, and he thought The human element, huh?
"I haven't acted much like an adult, have I?" Tim asked.
"You're doing just fine, McGee."
Tim blinked. "What?"
"Ever see NCIS?" Dick said, grabbing for the remote.
"Wait, you think I'm McGee?" Tim demanded. "The IT guy that's barely on the show?"
"Oh, you're real early, huh?"
"If I'm McGee, then you're -"
"Obviously DiNozzo."
Tim narrowed his eyes. "You're the worst."
However, his words had more teasing and open affection in them than either had spoken in years, and in the morning, both were stretched out snoring on the couch while NCIS played like a gentle lullaby.
Chapter 21: I Like This Mess I've Made So Far
Summary:
"Grayson, I . . ." Damian frowned, a harsh wrinkle standing out between his eyebrows as moved the paper in front of him where he could glare down at the contents rather than look at Dick. "After the events of the last few days, I felt it would be only - prudent to - to . . ."
Damian frowned even harder before thrusting the paper at Dick.
Dick took it and stiffened.
The room was quiet. There wasn't a single breath taken, and Tim leaned forward just a bit to lay his eyes on a gorgeous piece. Sketchy colored pencils and gentle washes of watercolor transformed the page to a portrait of a woman with familiar eyes and a laugh on her tongue.
Chapter Text
Tim blinked blearily. It took a moment for the shaky image of the television to solidify, and Tim rubbed his eyes. Then he heard a sound - what must've woken him in the first place.
A phone.
Tim sat up, glancing at Dick as he drooled. The other man was completely out - though, he deserved it. Tim was sure the man hadn't slept much if at all since the whole mess of the invasion started. None of them had. He deserved to rest.
It was with that conviction that Tim stumbled off the couch, wincing at the afternoon sun drifting through the window, and made his way to the kitchen table where the offending item was sitting. Tim paused, however, when he saw the number.
It was one of Bruce's burner phones.
In less than a second, Tim was fully awake, and his mind was racing. Why was Bruce calling from a burner? Was he undercover? Was Dick supposed to be his contact? If Dick was his contact, why was he out last night as Nightwing without his phone? Undercover didn't make sense. Dick would never abandon someone on an op, so there was no way Dick could be the one he checked in with. Alred usually did that for Bruce.
Why was Bruce calling then?
(And why would Bruce be undercover this soon after the invasion? After any stretch where Batman was missing, crime spiked. Undercover ops always were timed very specifically - after Batman was seen consistently for at least two weeks.)
Bruce couldn't be undercover.
So option two -
Dick groaned, and Tim picked up on automatic.
"Dick -"
"Dick's asleep." Tim whispered hurriedly. "This is Tim."
There was a pause.
Then Batman's voice returned. "Tell him to come to the Batcave tonight."
Before Tim could reply, there was a click, and Batman was gone.
Tim's eyebrows furrowed. A touch of guilt made him bite his lip, but it didn't stop him from scrolling through Dick's contacts to find B's.
Blocked.
The suspicion seeded deep within his chest grew into a snapdragon, rotted and angry instead of pretty -
"Who was that?"
Tim spun around. "Uh, B."
Dick was sitting up, arms sloppily thrown over the couch, and his hair stuck up wildly. His eyes stayed smiling and tired, though Tim could see it as Dick's jaw shifted to the side. He could only watch as the other man swallowed his discomfort, throwing on a lie of a smile.
It hit Tim like a ton of bricks that Dick was trying to protect him, and it ached deep within him that Dick didn't trust him enough to handle it.
However, Dick's words from the night before swam to the forefront of his mind, and he pushed his own insecurity down. Dick said that he would never choose Deathstroke over him, and he'd also said that he had trouble seeing him as an adult. Love and protective instincts didn't equal distrust. Tim clutched the phone just a little tighter to ground himself.
(You don't deserve his trust. Whispered a voice in his head. You were just going through his phone like a jealous ex.)
(Shut up. Tim thought.)
"You okay there?" Dick asked.
"Oh, yeah." Tim said, blinking.
Dick pulled himself over the couch (giving Tim just enough time to exit out of Dick's contacts without being caught). "You were staring into space for a good second there."
"I'm just tired." Tim lied. "Sorry."
Dick snorted. "Coffee?"
"Please." Tim said.
"So what did B want?"
Tim dropped the phone on the table as Dick glided past him to the coffee maker. Hesitantly, he said "He wants to see you."
There was a pause. "Figures."
Dick didn't say anything else.
Tim stared at his back and wondered.
When Alred opened the door, his eyebrows raised for a single second before he said "Come in, come in, Master Richard, Master Timothy."
"Thanks, Alfie." Dick said as the two ducked inside.
"Of course, next time I'll be expecting a call first so that dinner can be served on time."
Both Dick and Tim winced.
"Sorry, Alfred." Tim said.
"Yeah, sorry." Dick echoed.
Alred gave them a stern look, but his eyes were sparkling. "A small price to pay to have you both home and safe."
Appropriately chuffed and chastised, the two trailed behind to the dining table to sit while Alred stepped through to the kitchen, disappearing with a fond look toward both former Robins. Tim was just about to speak when his eyes caught on a small shadow in the doorway.
Damian was tense, seeming to draw his shoulders back far more than was necessary to keep his ridiculously good posture. His frown was so tightly drawn that Tim feared he'd age twice as fast as his father, stress visible from his toes all the way up to his intense, blue-eyed stare. In his hand, he was clutching a tan paper -
"Dami!" Dick called, and the boy's eyes snapped to him before his gaze (almost nervously) darted to Tim and back again.
"Grayson." Dami greeted simply. He strode forward to Dick's side, and the elder man's eyes sparkled as the younger almost fell into a military stance before his Batman, the paper behind his back. "I wish to -"
The heavy sound of boots interrupted the youth, and Jason strode into the room. When all eyes immediately turned to him, Jason raised a cocky eyebrow. "Miss me?"
"When don't we?" returned Dick dryly, but the turn of his lip was earnest and grateful.
Jason grinned, walking around the table and practically falling into a chair. Tim nervously turned his gaze away, not quite able to look Jason in the eye (not after last night). Instead, he intently shifted his attention back to the current Robin, heart beating too hard as the older man simply stared harder.
"As you were, kid." Jason said, just a slight hint of bite in his voice.
"Grayson, I . . ." Damian frowned, a harsh wrinkle standing out between his eyebrows as moved the paper in front of him where he could glare down at the contents rather than look at Dick. "After the events of the last few days, I felt it would be only - prudent to - to . . ."
Damian frowned even harder before thrusting the paper at Dick.
Dick took it and stiffened.
The room was quiet. There wasn't a single breath taken, and Tim leaned forward just a bit to lay his eyes on a gorgeous piece. Sketchy colored pencils and gentle washes of watercolor transformed the page to a portrait of a woman with familiar eyes and a laugh on her tongue. It took Tim a single second to recognize the woman as the same one from the photograph he had of that fateful night - the night that tied Dick to Bruce and Bruce to Dick.
Tim's eyes jumped up to Dick's face, but his expression was completely blank.
"I - I apologize if I mis-stepped -" Damian began.
"No!" Dick blurted out. "No, it's - it's beautiful. Thank you, Damian. I - Thank you."
The extra tension bled out of Damian, and very softly, he said "I did not know before the memory that she was where Robin started. I wanted to honor that."
"Where Robin started?" Tim asked.
Dick tore his eyes up from the page before a bittersweet smile slid across his face. He set the picture where all of them could see it. "My mother. She used to call me Robin. It was a second name of sorts. I was born on the first day of spring while a robin was singing. She and my father had already agreed on naming me Richard, but she couldn't quite let go of Robin. I guess I couldn't, either. I'm sorry I lashed out so much when you were first given it."
Jason looked surprised. "I thought it was Batman's thing. Otherwise, I wouldn't have taken it."
Dick smiled, shaking his head. "No, I'm glad you were Robin. You were a good Robin. My mother would have loved you."
"She was very . . . alive." Damian settled on before seeming to realize how badly he had chosen his words.
However, Dick laughed. "She was. She would have loved all of you. She spent most of her time teasing and prodding my dad. My dad was a good man, but he was straight forward as they come. She used to dance circles around him, throw jokes right over his head. And you should have seen her on stage. No one could play a crowd like my mother. Not to mention the puns. You should have heard it!"
"Something tells me we already have." Tim replied, but Dick snorted.
"You haven't heard the half of it."
"God forbid." Jason replied, but he had a smirk clear as day on his face.
Dick ruffled Damian's hair as he said "She had a head for languages, and whenever it suited her, she'd just change language to make something work. There was no one like her. It was hard losing her and my dad. But Robin - Robin really kept her alive."
There was a pause as that sunk in.
Then -
"I don't - I don't get it." Tim said.
Dick blinked. "Get what?"
"Why you'd give Robin up." Jason said.
"Give Robin up?" Dick repeated, looking oddly lost.
"Why would you choose to quit being Robin?" Tim asked.
Dick looked around at all of them, quiet surprise in his face. "I didn't. B fired me."
"What the fuck?" Jason gasped out.
Dick rubbed the back of his head. "It was - rough. I can't lie. On one hand, it was - I felt like I was losing them all over again. But on the other hand, it was the first time I got kicked out of the manor, and I wasn't prepared. But I had the Titans. I had Clark, and they helped me find myself. Find Nightwing. I was still - things were still difficult between me and B, and it didn't help when -"
Abruptly, he quieted.
It was Jason that said "It was me, wasn't it?"
Dick hesitated. "There were rumors first. I didn't believe them. I didn't believe any of them. But then I was watching the news, and there was video footage. A new Robin."
"Fuck."
"I'm sorry. I let my anger and everything between me and Bruce affect how I treated you. I hate that I - If I could go back -"
"Stop it, Dickface. You did better than you thought." Jason interrupted. "I was - happy."
Dick smiled.
"I - Wait, wait." Tim said. "Can we go back for a second? You said it was the first time?"
Dick opened his mouth before closing it. "It's in the past -"
"Dick, please." Tim said.
Dick stared at him for a moment before his shoulders slumped a little. "Okay."
"You were kicked out of the manor another time?" Damian asked quietly.
Dick sighed. He grabbed the chair next to himself and pulled it closer before tapping the seat. Obediently, Damian sat down beside him. With the youngest settled, Dick turned his attention to the eldest of his brothers. "Well, you already know, but -"
"I do not already know." Jason stated.
"But - you saw - you saw after you -"
Understanding, bitter and dark, lit Jason's eyes. "The memory cut off when Batman sucker punched you in the face."
Tim sucked in a sharp breath.
Dick tapped the table. "I - I see. Well, I was on a space mission when - When. After I came back, no one told me what happened. No calls, no letters, no one so much as talked to me. So I assumed everything was fine. Then when I was leaving work, there was a newspaper on the ground. Everyone was stepping over it and on it and - and I saw your face - I checked my phone and saw your missed call, and I -" Dick cut himself off for a moment, eyes lost. "After Bruce and I fought, he told me to return my keys to Alfred."
"What did Pennyworth say?" Damian asked.
Dick blinked. "Nothing."
Immediately, the room erupted.
"Why wouldn't Alfred -"
"The hell kind of bullshit -"
"Pennyworth should have -"
Dick put his fingers to his lips, and a loud whistle ripped through the noise, leaving only silence in its wake.
"Let's not blame Alfred. For all I know, he didn't even know I was kicked out. Maybe he thought I was done - that I didn't want to come back. Honestly, a part of me didn't. So - So it's - It doesn't matter. The past doesn't matter."
"The goddess seems to think it matters." Jason muttered.
"What matters is what we do now." Dick said firmly.
"But Dick, the past is what helps inform our decisions." Tim said. "We can't keep going like this - doing things and saying things without understanding what got us there."
"I never would have been Robin if I knew - if I knew." Jason said.
"Then my mother's memory would have died right then and there." Dick said, and Jason reeled back. Dick pushed on, voice apologetic as he said "I'm glad you were Robin. All of you and Stephanie, too. Robin was never meant to be a legacy, but seeing Robin in the sky, doing good work - Well, that's a gift. I think my mother would have been happy if she could see what she created."
"Robin has everything to do with you, too, you know." Tim said.
Dick smiled softly. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."
Dick ruffled Damian's hair once more, the child begrudgingly accepting it, as Alfred stepped inside, food in hand.
"Good to see you, Master Jason." Alfred said as he carefully set down dishes piled high with food.
"You, too, Alf." Jason grinned as Alfred stepped back through the door.
Dick and Tim both gave him an incredulous stare.
"What?" Jason said, leaning back. "Mad that Alfred likes me best?"
"It's not fair that Alfred told us off for not calling ahead, and you got a warm welcome." Tim complained.
"Perhaps, a detective might then conclude that Master Jason did call ahead." Alfred stated calmly as he stepped back through the door.
Tim flushed right up to his ears, and laughter took over the table. The four ate together, tossed food at each other, and teased each other just as Mary Grayson would have wanted.
Chapter 22: We're Living Different Lives, Heaven Only Knows
Summary:
Tim clenched his fist under the table. Jason's stare was heavy, judgmental, and Tim couldn't find it in himself to blame the other man.
Jason waited just long enough for them to both know that no listening ears (except maybe Alfred who was all-seeing anyways) were still in range. Tim couldn't help the little bit of gratitude that bubbled up despite the heavy shame there, too. He knew he messed up, and while Dick and he talked, there hadn't been a single accusing note in his voice - though the way Dick's voice had been wrecked almost made it worse.
Jason was different than Dick. Tim knew that Jason was prepared to tear him a new one.
Chapter Text
"Alright, alright. I'm going to go put this where it'll be safe, and then I'll be right back." Dick said with a laugh, pushing back his chair and taking the watercolor painting with a nimble, reverent touch.
Damian was out of his seat quickly but not quite fast enough to break the composure the boy always held tightly around himself like a cloak. "I'll accompany you."
Dick smiled, and Damian fell in step with him.
Then, that left Tim alone.
With Jason.
Tim clenched his fist under the table. Jason's stare was heavy, judgmental, and Tim couldn't find it in himself to blame the other man.
Jason waited just long enough for them to both know that no listening ears (except maybe Alfred who was all-seeing anyways) were still in range. Tim couldn't help the little bit of gratitude that bubbled up despite the heavy shame there, too. He knew he messed up, and while Dick and he talked, there hadn't been a single accusing note in his voice - though the way Dick's voice had been wrecked almost made it worse.
Jason was different than Dick. Tim knew that Jason was prepared to tear him a new one. The older Robin wasn't one to hold his tongue. He always said what he thought, and Tim tensed up further at just the idea of the onslaught he'd have to take.
However, what actually came out of Jason's mouth was "We have to do better."
Tim paused. "We - We?"
Jason leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, Replacement. We."
Tim frowned. "But I'm the one that made him protect his rapist -"
"And I'm the one that made him protect his abuser."
Tim's lips parted silently before sound ripped out. "B isn't -"
"Don't go there." Jason said simply, and Tim's mouth clamped shut with an audible click. "Just sayin' that we gotta be careful. The more that the goddess interferes, the more I think we're wrong about what's true and what's not."
Tim's brain was fogged, too caught up on the idea of Batman - of Bruce - being abusive to fully delve into what Jason was saying. "So you think -"
"That Dick has been playin' the punching bag in more ways than one."
Tim clenched his teeth, pushing away that image before saying "We can't have missed that much -"
"I thought Dick quit being Robin." Jason interrupted, and a lump formed in Tim's throat. "I thought Dick was Bruce's favorite, that he was the only one of us that Batman respected. I thought that Dick had people he could rely on, not that would gossip about his rape to his face."
"Now - Now hold on -"
"Face it, Tim." Jason said with a razor-edged voice. "Anything we made assumptions about, we gotta either confirm it's true or throw it out. Even if Dick didn't deny it or went with it. Anything he didn't directly confirm, we have to assume could be wrong. And we have to stop acting like idiots and fucking up Dick with our reactions."
Tim's eyes dropped. "There's - There's a lot to look over if we're taking out all of our assumptions. Do you think -"
A loud cry of "Release me, Grayson!" came down the hallway.
Tim lapsed into silence, and both turned to look at the doorway as Dick stepped through. With one hand on his hip and the other around Damian's legs, the younger boy was dangling over his brother's shoulder, hitting Dick's back ineffectively.
(Though they all knew that if he wanted to, Damian could escape the hold.)
(He just didn't want to.)
"Have either of you seen Dami?" Grayson asked with the biggest shit-eating grin.
"Grayson!" Damian cried.
"It's like I can almost hear his voice, but every time I turn around, it's gone."
Tim snorted as Jason said "Only you would manage to lose an entire child."
"I am not a child! I am too old for this!" Damian shouted.
"You know, we were walking down the hall together, and then he was gone!" Dick exclaimed.
"Well, Damian is pretty sneaky." Tim said, joining in on the fun. "He could be anywhere."
"I am right here!"
"You're right. I might have to search the entire manor." Dick said.
"Better do it twice just to be sure." Jason said.
"You're right. That's a great idea!" Dick grinned.
"Grayson!" Damian almost squealed, but he cut himself off, eyes going wide down the hall where the rest of them couldn't see. He scrambled down Dick's back, and the older man let him, both stiffening into something more reserved as Bruce Wayne's lurking figure appeared in the doorway, eyes a bit too dark to be Bruce.
For a moment, Tim mourned the levity that surrounded them that had disappeared as fast as it had come.
Bruce's eyes bored into Dick for a moment before completely bypassing Damian and coming to land on Tim. However, his voice was clearly directed at both Tim and Jason when he said "You were out last night. You're meant to be accompanied at all times."
Heart pounding, Tim glanced at Jason for something to say.
Instead, Dick came to his rescue. "Relax, B. They were with me."
Bruce turned his furious gaze back on Dick, but Dick stared back with so much stubborn calm that Bruce simply spun on his heel and walked away.
Dick sighed. "Well, that's my cue. I'll see you guys in a bit."
Jason stood up. "Alright. Let's go."
Dick blinked. "Uh."
However, Jason strutted right passed him down the hall toward the bat with a call of "You coming?"
Dick's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't protest. He gave Dami a quick hair ruffle and Tim a wink before disappearing after him.
Damian frowned tightly before taking a seat again at the table.
It was sitting there that it suddenly and sharply struck Tim how easily Bruce's eyes had glossed over the current Robin. That was something that Tim had understood to an extent - that feeling of Bruce's attention wandering away even while looking directly at him. However, it wasn't something that Tim remembered feeling often from his days in the dynamic duo.
He remembered chilling glares and harsh anger, and he remembered warm smiles and a proud hand on his shoulder. Mostly, he remembered the good and the pride he'd felt within himself when Batman's grief had stopped putting crooks in the hospital.
What had Damian gotten beyond strict orders and an immediate distrust that he had to overcome?
Tim hoped that there were good times, good moments, moments where Bruce looked at him and saw his son, moments where he gave him the same treatment that Dick had gotten -
Tim's mind drew up short.
That was an assumption, and one he couldn't actually confirm. His mind drifted to the cave, to the fear when his chest had begun to burn, the breath being stollen from his lungs, from Jason's harsh "Nothing excuses hitting your son!"
At the time, he'd assumed that it had only happened once. Why wouldn't he? It was Batman's - Bruce's grief that led him to that point. Bruce wouldn't do that if it weren't for some form of grief or outside variable, but that combined with the way Dick had recently been putting himself between Bruce and the rest of them - And the way Bruce had just accepted it - told a different story.
Maybe it wasn't physical? A young, naive part of himself whispered as if that made things any better.
Tim bit his lip.
B hates child abusers. Always has. Why would he -
Before Tim could even finish the thought, he was falling forward, Damian's sharp shout the last thing he heard before oblivion struck him.
Chapter 23: If Faith's a Crime, Give Me a Clue
Summary:
"And what, you weren't going to tell me? That's why you wanted privacy?"
"What?" Tim gaped. "No -"
"That's one part of it, yes." Batman said, straight-faced. Tim stared at him, searching for something - anything - remorse or guilt or some proof of having a conscience, but there was just a firm stare. Resolve. Justification.
He thinks he's right. Tim thought in horror.
Chapter Text
Tim woke up sitting down in front of the Batcomputer. At first, it didn't strike him as out of the ordinary at all, but it didn't take long for his memory of the goddess to filter through. He spun around in the chair before freezing at what he saw in front of him.
Batman, regardless of if his cowl was down, stood before a man hooked up to wires and carefully restrained. Tim bypassed the bat, ignoring just how damaged he looked, to stare at the figure beside him. The man's skin was pale, and though he was shirtless, Tim couldn't find any hues of pink. The only hints of blood were from creeping veins everywhere, and even those looked oddly dark - distorted. Not unhuman but stark in a way that was unnatural. However, it was his his dark and bruised under eyes that made Tim stare into his grayed-out pupils.
This - This by all intents and purposes was a body.
And an oddly familiar one, too. It was in the jawline and those cheekbones -
"Geez, Bruce." Tim jerked back, eyes darting to where Nightwing stood at the top of the stairs, the symbol on his chest red as blood. "What did they . . . do to you?"
Batman ignored what Nightwing asked, immediately jumping into the gritty details as the younger man approached. "The man on the table is the talon. An assassin for the Court of Owls."
"Is he . . . dead?" Nightwing asked leaning in almost as closely as Tim had a moment before.
"Yes . . . and no."
Tim's eyes snapped to Batman, eyebrows raised. As the Batman talked and talked about dead tissue, the reanimation process, and the alloys needed to do it, Tim felt anxiety creep up his spine, because this - this was a case. It wasn't normal by any means to have a body in the cave, but it wasn't necessarily out of the ordinary. However, for the goddess to think that it was important to see what amounted to basically just a case meant that something bad, something awful had to -
"His name is Cobb. William Cobb." Batman said, the shadows cloaking his face in a way that seemed - angry. "And he's your great grandfather."
Tim lost his breath.
Nightwing's face went lax. "My - My what?"
"I took a tissue sample, Dick."
"And what, you weren't going to tell me? That's why you wanted privacy?"
"What?" Tim gaped. "No -"
"That's one part of it, yes." Batman said, straight-faced. Tim stared at him, searching for something - anything - remorse or guilt or some proof of having a conscience, but there was just a firm stare. Resolve. Justification.
He thinks he's right. Tim thought in horror.
"And you're not going to tell me the other part. Heh, of course you're not." Nightwing said bitterly before pointing at Batman accusingly. "You know, Bruce, I get that you think you're protecting me with your secrets. Or rather, I get that you want to think that's why you keep secrets like this. But since we're being so honest and upfront -- right? Let's admit that both of us know the person you're really protecting is yourself. From having to have a damn human emotion!"
Tim flinched back, eyes wide.
He remembered when Batman and Nightwing fought, but he couldn't remember it quite like this. He remembered spats, little arguments over strategies and fast back and forths - this was none of that. This was personal.
This was what Nightwing - what Dick - tried to keep him from seeing.
(Probably what Jason had seen too often when he was Robin.)
Batman turned his back, but Nightwing kept going, his voice falling into Dick's. "But you have no idea what I've been through these last few weeks! No idea! The things I've had to deal with! And I'll tell you what, Bruce, if you think learning my ancestor, some guy I never even knew, was a criminal -- if you think that's going to faze me, then frankly, you don't know me at --"
Crack!
Tim froze. His whole body locked in place, just staring as Batman, gauntlets and all, backhanded Nightwing so hard that he flew backwards in a spray of blood. He landed harshly on the ground, momentum carrying him to roll over his shoulder and onto his front. Tim rushed to him, watching as his older brother coughed and drooled blood onto the floor.
His eyes snapped to Batman, and he stared as the man calmly knelt and picked up something on the floor.
A tooth.
The way he did it was too calm, to precise - this was - It was premeditated. It had to be. All Batman wanted was the tooth.
"B - Where's Bruce?" Tim whispered, words breaking free almost against his will. "Where's - Why aren't you -"
"You were supposed to be one, too, Dick." Batman said, staring at the prize he'd bloodied his son for.
"I . . . I was supposed to be . . . a talon?" Nightwing asked, head coming up, and Tim suddenly felt anger, hot and bloody, raise in his chest, because -
Because Batman just knocked his tooth out, and they were just . . . continuing on? Talking about - about Cobb and the Court and not acknowledging what Batman just did? Who cared if Dick was supposed to be an assassin when he was here getting punched out by the Batman anyways?
"How often?" Tim snapped. "How often does this - Is this just how it is? When no one else is here?"
Batman continued as if Tim wasn't there - because he wasn't. He was alone with Nightwing.
Or really, Nightwing was alone with the Batman.
"Every decade, Haly's Circus presented a crop of child athletes to the Court, and the members chose one in secret to be trained as that era's Talon. You were meant to be the most recent one, but when your parents died . . ."
"And you took me in . . ."
"You asked me before, what the Court did to me." Batman continued, voice heavy and eyes too sharp. "What they did was show me the truth. That the Gotham City I thought I knew, my city . . . doesn't exist."
And Tim - Tim paused to really look at B and saw the clench of his jaw, the overgrown stubble, the bags beneath his eyes that rivaled the dead man, the sickly color of his skin, and -
And for a second, he was tempted to excuse him. Say he was emotionally fragile, he was unwell, he was out of his mind because of what he'd been through -
But it was still wrong.
Just like it was wrong to hit Dick when Jason died.
Tim shut his eyes. "You're not the only one hurting, Bruce."
"Well, here's some truth for you." Dick ground out, rising to his feet even while his face bore the mark of unfair violence. "You might be seeing sides already, all of us birds on one and you, the Bat, on the other. Hell, you're probably throwing up walls right and left. But the fact is I don't care who my ancestor was. Or what the Court of Owls wanted me to be. I don't. We are who we choose to be, Bruce. Not the role the past says we should play."
Tim stared between them, brother and father, and found himself trapped in the midst of a great divide.
Fate stood, guarded in shadows, and choice was there bathed in blood.
And Tim made his choice.
He stood with his brother of choice, turning away from Batman's mind trapped in fate's design and closed his eyes as the goddess took him away.
When Dick made it to the cave, Jason was already standing across from B with a dangerous gleam in his eye. He took no time to walk down between them, saying "You wanted to see me?"
B sent him an unimpressed look, eyes flickering to Jason, and Dick shrugged. B's jaw tensed.
"Well? You gonna share with the class?" Jason pushed.
"What happened with Freeze?" Batman demanded.
Dick smiled. "I'm guessing Nora woke up then."
Batman scowled but gave a nod.
"Whoa, what?" Jason said. "I thought she couldn't be unfrozen until -"
"She's cured." Dick said. Though his tone was relieved, there was a sad note singing in his blue eyes.
"And Freeze is missing." interrupted Batman.
"There aren't any alarms goin' off." Jason pointed out.
"A rather convincing copy is in his place." Batman said, irritation obvious in the biting tone of his voice. He turned on Dick, ignoring the way Jason nearly flinched toward where his gun normally was strapped in place. "A copy that appeared after your visit."
"And the copy will stay there until he supposedly passes of a heart attack." Dick stated.
"How do you know -"
"Where is the real Freeze?" B demanded overtop of Jason's confusion.
"In two days, the good doctor, free of his former condition, will come to your office asking for a job." Dick stated, voice dropping into almost a trance. "You will provide him and his wife with housing and a team that he will lead, specializing in blood diseases."
B's eyes narrowed. "And if I don't?"
Suddenly, the air was cloyingly thick as if a heavy perfume had settled in to drag out the oxygen. B had to lean against the computer, and even Jason looked shaken.
However, Dick just stood there, eyes shining so very blue.
"You will."
Then the air was suddenly back. Dick blinked a couple times, a touch of confusion in his eyes for a moment before he recovered.
"Dick?" Jason asked.
"Here." Dick said, with a cheeky grin that just missed the mark.
"What's going on?" Jason asked.
Dick let out a breath. "Freeze made a deal. He'll get his wife back, but in exchange, he'll work until his work is done."
Jason frowned, looking at the tight expression on both Dick and Batman's faces. "That doesn't sound that bad. He's a leading expert in the field."
"Jason, leading experts have barely made any headway in the last fifty years." Dick said softly. "Dr. Fries is doomed to live until he figures it out. He's going to outlive his wife - and everyone else, working day in and out until the goddess finally lets him die. It's a curse."
Jason paused, then he said too quickly "What does that mean for you?"
"What?"
"You're her Chosen." Jason said. "Are you going to have to live until -"
Dick looked sick. "We need to talk to Diana again."
"Both she and Zatanna Zatara will be here in two days." Batman stated.
"And you're only telling us now?" Dick snapped.
Batman said nothing, and Jason bristled. "Come on. We're not waiting that long."
The two headed towards the changing area, and Batman began to follow them, but Jason spun on his heel with a sharp glare. "Not you, old man."
"Jason -" Dick began, but Jason gave him a look with a raised eyebrow. Dick sighed and nodded.
The two walked away, leaving the Batman alone.
Chapter 24: Our Voices are Divided by an Ocean
Summary:
"I saw Dick choose to give you Robin." Tim blurted out.
Damian blinked at him, eyebrows lifting in a very Bruce way.
For a moment, Tim thought he bought it.
Then Damian's face darkened. "You're lying."
Chapter Text
The Watchtower was still surprisingly full considering the threat of the invasion had gone. Heroes, both well-known and faces too hard to place, wandered up and down every hall. The Red Hood found himself consistently walking a step behind Nightwing like some kind of bodyguard to avoid brushing elbows with heroes he'd rather not have to have any form of conversation with.
Of course, it helped that Nightwing knew the Watchtower better than he did. He followed with ease, practically tuning out.
Until they passed a group of heroines.
"-like his suit is glued to him."
"Look at that ass! Nightwing? More like Tightwing."
The Red Hood couldn't see his brother's face, didn't see if there was a change in his gait. However, he felt it as hot anger, far more than necessary for the situation, revved up within his chest. He stopped in place and turned around, marching toward the group. His gloved hand caught in thick, blonde curls and yanked back one of the heroines - hard.
Flamebird was a disappointment to recognize, but he was far angrier to realize that Huntress was one of the women huddled together.
She pulled a weapon from her belt, a snarl on her lips as she hissed "What do you think you're doing?"
"Hood!" Nightwing called, hurrying back and pausing to assess the situation.
"I could ask you the same thing." the Red Hood stated.
"Let me go!"
"Hood." Nightwing said, voice low and all too calm.
The Red Hood scowled behind his mask before releasing his grip, relishing it as Flamebird dropped to the floor. He gave her a short, petty snort before looking at Huntress. "Thought you were better than that."
"Than what? Assaulting people who would watch your back in the field?" She asked, staying in a fighting stance.
"Than sexually harassing someone who's done more for this world than you could ever hope to."
The women seemed shocked into silence, but an embarrassed, angry look came over Huntress's face. "Maybe you shouldn't have been listening."
"Fuck off."
"Hood." Nightwing snapped, and this time, there was an implicit command in his voice. "We're done here. I apologize."
Flamebird glanced at the Red Hood as she stood, opening her mouth to say something when the Red Hood interrupted. "You apologize?"
"Yes. I do."
"Apology accepted." Huntress stated, voice still on edge.
"Fuck that -"
"What's going on here?" called a voice, and the group's eyes were dragged to a tall figure with flaming red hair and keen, green eyes.
"Starfire." Nightwing breathed.
When Tim woke up, it was with a surprisingly nasty headache and a sharp pain in his nose. He sucked in a breath on instinct before immediately regretting it. He spluttered and coughed, the soft fabric of a cushion rubbing against his face and head.
"Stay still, Drake." Damian's voice drifted to him from afar.
Tim groaned and sat up, blinking a couple times.
"Did you get brain damage when you fell?" the younger Robin hissed. "You're going to hurt yourself worse."
Tim blinked a couple more times. He was sprawled out on the floor next to the table, and while the back of his head was aching steadily, there was also a sharp pain that seemed to thrum like a heartbeat in his nose. He brushed a hand against his upper lip, wincing as it came away red. Damian knelt down, pressing napkins into his hand, and Tim grimaced in gratitude before pressing them to his face.
"What happened?"
"I should be asking you that." Damian replied simply before relenting. "When your consciousness left, you slammed your face into the table and rolled off your chair to the floor. I wasn't able to get there in time."
Oddly touched that the younger had even tried to stop his descent, Tim replied "That explains the headache."
Damian peered at him with those icy blue eyes before asking "What did you see?"
Tim's chest tightened. There was no way he was going to tell him. Simply no way. What would he even say?
I saw your father, the man you're currently protecting the night with, purposely knock a tooth out of Dick, the man who is practically your dad and who has spent more time than anyone mentoring you and caring for you, in the most violent, painful way he could.
"I saw Dick choose to give you Robin." Tim blurted out.
Damian blinked at him, eyebrows lifting in a very Bruce way.
For a moment, Tim thought he bought it.
Then Damian's face darkened. "You're lying."
"What?" Tim said before having to adjust the bloody napkins.
"Dick was not the one who chose to make me Robin." Damian almost snarled. "Pennyworth was."
Tim opened his mouth and said nothing.
A month ago, a week ago, hell, a day ago, he would have been hit with a sense of betrayal, of Alfred, really, of disbelief, of guilt beyond guilt, but instead, he felt numbness spread through his chest. Phantom pain splintered across his knuckles even as his head pounded. Questions circled his mind, but they settled at the feet of one overpowering thought.
Jason was right. We can't assume anything.
"What you saw - It's bad, isn't it?" Damian said, his voice harsh. "That's why you're keeping it secret."
Tim swallowed, dragging himself out of a whirlpool of dark thoughts and darker emotions. For all the child was trying to put up a strong front, it wasn't hard for someone who knew him to see the arrogance and callous tone was nothing more than a ruse. Dick's soft tone when he'd asked them to remember that Damian was still so young drifted across Tim's mind, and he let out a slow breath, dropping the napkins from his face.
Dick had wanted him to be a mentor.
"No. It's not bad." Tim assured slowly. "It's nothing Dick can't or hasn't already handled, but it is private, and I think Dick ought to be able to talk to you about it himself when he wants to. I shouldn't have lied, though. I'm sorry if I scared you."
Damian snorted, though Tim thought he could hear the relief in his voice. "Fear is beneath me."
Tim raised an eyebrow "Is that why you haven't been going out as Robin the past few days? Because it seems like you are afraid of something."
Damian spluttered for a moment before seeming to calm himself.
(A part of Tim felt both proud and ashamed. He could remember the days when Damian would resort to violence rather than regulating his own emotions, and in moments like this, he could see just how far he'd come from that small child desperately clinging to anything that would make him worthy of any form of note. The same part of him was ashamed he wasn't involved in that growth from the beginning, didn't get to help aid in Damian's steps toward becoming a hero of his own someday.)
(However, the times had changed. He was no stranger to Damian - They were brothers now, even if it started poorly.)
"I was . . . concerned about my role as Robin once I found out the origin of my title." Damian said slowly, eyes drifting just to the side. "I felt it inappropriate to continue when Grayson wasn't the one to choose to hand Robin down. However, our conversation at dinner showed me otherwise."
"Don't you think that if Dick had a problem with you being Robin, he would have said something when he was Batman? Or even after he came back from Spyral?"
Damian paused. "Until the invasion, he was . . . distant."
Tim frowned.
Damian hadn't been wrong. Dick had been . . . off since returning. Quiet. After his "homecoming," he'd spent most of his time in Bludhaven, dealing with the crime springing up around the final rebuilding efforts, or in a strange dance with Batman around the rest of them. At the time, Tim had been glad for it, but the more and more he began thinking about it . . .
(The sound of Batman's gauntlet smacking flesh, Dick's blood dripping from his mouth, the callous, cold way both of them just moved on -)
(But now wasn't the time to think about that.)
"You know Dick would come any time you called." Tim said.
Damian pursed his lips before looking at Tim, his eyes hard. "I will get you more napkins."
He was gone before Tim could think of anything to say. He touched his nose gently with his knuckle, wincing but glad to see only a menial amount of fresh blood. His eyes drifted toward the entrance to the Batcave before locking onto the kitchen door where Dami had disappeared.
Damian was avoiding the conversation.
For a moment, Tim warred within himself over whether he should pursue it and risk upsetting the boy further or if he should let it lie and risk it building up into an ugly, hateful pain - the kind that made Bruce more Bat than man.
Then Damian walked back through the door with wide eyes. In his hand was not more napkins but his phone.
"You should see this. An alert came through - It's Nightwing."
Chapter 25: I Could Never Take the World Alone
Summary:
"Didn't mean to do a lot of things, huh?" The words slipped out without the Red Hood's consent, and she turned to look at him for the first time since she'd walked in.
Nightwing looked at him sharply. "Hood."
Fuck it. He thought.
"Look, I'm fuckin' pissed at you, and I don't know how he's not." Hood said, crossing his arms as an irritated look plastered itself onto his brother's face. "Goin' around telling people that he cheated when -"
Chapter Text
There was a tense moment of silence before Nightwing smiled tightly. "Nothing is going on. Everything's fine."
Red Hood snorted, voice bitter as he said "If you call sexual harassment fine."
Starfire's eyes took in Nightwing before snapping to the group of heroines. "Is this true?"
"It's fine -"
"I asked a question." Starfire interrupted, eyes blazing.
"We were having a laugh. That's all." Huntress snapped. "Nothing to warrant the Red Hood throwing a fit over."
Hood looked moments from snapping once more, but Starfire beat him to it. "A laugh? Is that what it's called?"
One of the women shifted uncomfortably, but Huntress stared the redhead down, head held high.
"I don't think you'd like it if a group of men were to have 'a laugh' at you while in the streets." Starfire stated coldly.
"Please." Huntress snapped defensively. "It's different, and you know it."
"Yes, it is. They do not claim to be heroes." Starfire stated, walking straight through the group to the two men dismissively. "Being a hero means acting like an example, not using your position to excuse your wrongs."
Huntress's lips twisted angrily, but she had enough common sense to turn on her heel and walk her wounded pride, as well as the rest of the heroines, away instead of engaging the rather dangerous alien. Flamebird hesitated for a single moment, looking like she wanted to say something, before she too followed with wounded steps.
Then the Red Hood was there, watching as Nightwing and Starfire stood and stared at one another.
They were an imposing pair, and they seemed to fit together in a way that the Red Hood couldn't explain. They weren't the traditional couple in the way that Nightwing looked up to meet her eyes, how the darkness of his hair and suit collided and warred with her fiery hair and vibrant costume. They were opposites, but they looked so fondly at one another that Hood's mind was drawn to old paintings of Persephone and Hades - two warring elements and natures that fell in love.
However, it was clear to Hood that they were just as far apart as the two gods in the way they looked at one another, unable to say the right words or reach past the separation there.
We were fighting the same war but not the same battle. Dick had said with that forlorn look in his eye.
Then Roy's face, drunk and young, swam into his mind's eye, saying You didn't hear it from me, but Kory told me Dick slept with another woman while they were together.
His jaw tightened.
"You didn't have to do that." Nightwing said just a bit too soft.
"Would you rather me or the Red Hood handle it?" she teased, and Hood scowled.
"I had it handled." Nightwing defended, and Starfire blinked, quickly realizing that she mis-stepped.
"I apologize. I didn't mean to -"
"Didn't mean to do a lot of things, huh?" The words slipped out without the Red Hood's consent, and she turned to look at him for the first time since she'd walked in.
Nightwing looked at him sharply. "Hood."
Fuck it. He thought.
"Look, I'm fuckin' pissed at you, and I don't know how he's not." Hood said, crossing his arms as an irritated look plastered itself onto his brother's face. "Goin' around telling people that he cheated when -"
"Telling people? I'm not - I did not -" Then she went deathly still, and her eyes shined just a bit green. "Roy."
"It's fine." Nightwing jumped in. "We know what - what happened, so it's -"
"It is not fine!" Starfire snarled. "I told him that in confidence! I just needed to - to talk, and - And I didn't say you cheated. I said - I told him that you were with her, but I didn't say you cheated -"
Anger slowly fading, the Red Hood thought Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have done that.
"I mean - It's - I wouldn't blame you if you did." Nightwing said. "I know how -"
"You think I would say such a thing after - after what happened?" Starfire exclaimed, eyes locked onto her former lover as though something truly horrifying were unfolding before her eyes. "Nightwing, no -"
Before she could continue, the Flash was suddenly there beside them, blowing Starfire's hair aside. "Hey!"
"Flash -" Starfire started, but he cut her off.
"Sorry, no time! Martian Manhunter needs backup ASAP." Flash said, dropping a hand on Nightwing's shoulder. "I spotted you, and you guys are way better than the backup I was going to send."
"Why is Martian Manhunter in the field?" Nightwing asked. "He should still be recovering."
"Tell me about it." the Flash groused. "I told him, but oh, no, why would anyone listen to - wait, wait - I'm getting distracted. We'll catch up afterwards!"
And then he was gone once more.
"Alright, alright. Let's go save his ass." Hood muttered, striding forward. Nightwing fell into place beside him.
But then another set of footsteps fell with them.
"I'm coming with you." Starfire said.
Great. Hood thought. Just great.
It was a fire, blazing hot. A building stretching at least seven stories was sending a cloud of black smoke into the sky, blotting out the day. Firemen were stationed all around the building, but their hands were full just trying to contain the flames and keep it from spreading. A police line was around the chaos, desperately keeping crowds and reporters with huge cameras from getting too close.
The building was going to collapse. It was just a matter of when.
The three heroes were immediately let behind the line, and they zeroed in on an ambulance. Laying on a cot with a paramedic standing over him was Martian Manhunter. He was sweating hard, chest rising and falling too fast. An oxygen mask was pressed to his face, but when he saw them, he tried to pull it off with a shaking hand.
"You need to keep that on!" The paramedic told him, voice harsh but eyes extremely concerned. "We don't know what else we can do for you, so you need to -"
"Please, please." He gasped, gesturing at the heroes. "Fifth floor . . . three people, fourth - fourth a little girl . . . second . . . man . . ."
His eyes began to roll, and the paramedic quickly pressed the oxygen mask to his face once more.
"It's okay. We'll handle it from here." Nightwing said.
"Rest now." Starfire said gently.
Ignoring the mushy bullshit, Hood turned toward the burning building. "I call second floor!"
"Starfire, can you handle the fifth floor?" Nightwing asked. She gave him a nod, and Nightwing pulled out his grappling hook. "Then it looks like it's fourth for me!"
Before he could use his grappling hook, Starfire swept him up in her arms and flew him straight up. A startled laugh echoed behind them, and Hood scowled.
"Show offs, both of 'em."
Then he was running toward the building. He actually used his grappling hook, watching as it broke through a window on the second floor and caught on the ledge. He tossed a salute to a nearby fireman before pulling himself up and inside.
He winced at the heat once he was inside, the bare skin on his neck almost immediately beading with sweat. He pressed inside, scanning what looked to be a child's bedroom as a canopy bed burned and spread to a nearby desk. The smoke was thick enough that even with his helmet's camera it was hard to see.
"Hello? Anybody here?"
He hurried through the door, wincing as he stepped over what used to be a teddy bear.
"Hello!"
Hood continued into the hall, barely dodging falling debris from the ceiling. He kept calling and calling through the smoke, popping his head into a small apartment when he finally heard something.
Sobbing.
His com crackled to life. "About time we start evacuating."
"Got it, N." Hood replied quickly, stepping inside.
He followed the sobs into the back of the apartment and through a door. Inside, there was an adult's room on one side and a baby's nursery on the other somehow cramped into a room barely big enough to house one person comfortably. The space was untouched by the fire as of yet, but opening the door let in some of the smoke. Even through it, Red Hood could see the man.
He was hunched over an empty cradle, sobbing.
"Sir -"
Red Hood called, but the man wailed louder, clutching the cradle even harder.
"We have to go!" Red Hood shouted, grabbing the man's shoulder.
The man wrenched away from him. "No! No, not without my girls!"
"No one is in the building!" Hood shouted as an ominous creaking and crackling roared above them.
The man let out an awful sob. "No!"
"We don't have time for this!"
Hood was about to knock him out and drag his limp body away when he caught sight of a stack of cards carelessly spilling out of the man's closet.
I'm sorry for your loss.
My condolences.
Sympathies -
God bless you.
Thinking about you -
Heaven gained another angel today.
"Fuck."
"Hood?" crackled his earpiece. "Are you on your way out?"
Red Hood's fists tightened, sweat dripping down his back. Then he leapt into action.
He pulled pictures off the wall, barely glancing at them. An ultrasound, the man and a woman, a lady with bright blue eyes, a picnic -
"What are you doing?" the man roared.
"Grab what you can carry!" snapped the Red Hood.
Somehow, that got through to the man, and though his face was blotchy and wet, he started grabbing things - rings and toys - as Hood stuffed the pictures and anything else he spotted into his pockets.
"Hood!" N's voice in his ear made him flinch.
"We're outta time!" Hood called.
"Wait, but -"
"They'd want you to fuckin' live, you idiot!" Hood snapped, but that didn't stop the man from grabbing one last picture - the woman in all white and a long veil. Hood scowled at the little window before pulling something from his belt and pressing it to the wall. "Behind the bed!"
The two hid while an explosion rang - just harsh enough to make their ears ring and a hole in the wall. Hood pulled out his grappling hook once more, grabbed the man, and swung out of the hole. He hit the ground harder than he should have, legs trembling and shirt soaked through, but the man merely stumbled, eyes glossy as he clutched an armful of things that couldn't bring back a woman or a daughter.
"Hood!" Nightwing cried, handing a tiny girl - so small - off to a paramedic. "What took you so long?"
The Red Hood glanced at the man before his eyes caught on Starfire as an elderly woman sobbed against her. He let out a breath. "We had to save a couple girls."
Nightwing didn't reply, but his face softened as Hood pulled out the pictures, the pacifier, the random things he'd saved from his various pockets, handing them off to the man beside him piled up with toys, blankets, random trinkets, and wearing two wedding rings now.
Then the little girl that Nightwing had set aside broke free from the paramedic and latched onto Nightwing's leg.
"Please! Mommy!" she gasped.
Nightwing frowned, turning away from the Red Hood as the little girl tugged on him. "I'm not your mommy, sweetie."
"Mommy!"
"Where is she?" Nightwing asked.
A bad feeling sunk into the Red Hood's stomach.
Just as the little girl pointed at the building, it began to collapse.
"Mommy! Please!" she cried, her voice somehow carrying over the carnage.
And then, the building froze, falling debris and breaking brick seemingly floating in place. The flames licked the sky before seeming to swirl together in a dance, disappearing entirely. Nightwing was glowing bright, too bright. He didn't look back at the flames, instead kneeling down to the little girl. He didn't open his mouth, but his voice echoed loud throughout the space.
Don't fear. You are heard.
Then miraculously, a woman walked out of the wreckage. She looked confused and dazed, eyes unseeing even as she walked step by step out amongst the people.
"Mommy!" cried the child, running to her.
The woman collapsed to her knees, child jumping into her arms.
However, the Red Hood could only stare at his brother as the man turned to look directly into the cameras pointed at him.
The Nightwing symbol on his chest began to burn brighter and brighter, his feet lifting off the ground, and then his lips moved with the echoing voice of the goddess.
"I am here."
Three simple words, and the building finished collapsing behind them. All the cameras arched with electricity, reporters and cameramen alike crying out. Dust blew outwards toward the people, firemen losing their footing and nearly falling. People began to shout and talk, and Hood knew that it wouldn't be long before they zeroed in on his brother.
He grabbed the other man just as his body went limp, the bird on his chest blue once more, and swung away onto a nearby rooftop whilst the chaos reigned below.
Chapter 26: But I've Been Trying to Get Through to You
Summary:
Kory stared at Jason for a long moment before she continued. "This is about before. On the Watchtower."
Jason rubbed his forehead. "For god's sake, Kory -"
"No." She interrupted, shaking her head hard enough for her long, red locks to look like fire. "Jason, we have to talk about this."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dick wasn't waking up.
Jason tried not to let the gnawing fear bite at him. He knew how long it'd taken the other man to wake up last time, but he already had once sunk into that black hole of knowing that the man that laid beneath his fingertips was dead. He knew what it was like to try in some way to fill the shoes he'd left behind.
It had been different than Batman. When Bruce was gone, all he lost was Batman (or at least, that was all he acknowledged losing).
(There were some pains that were made to be black holes, sucking all logic and reason into a dark place where no man could return from - especially a man as weak as Jason Todd. The Batman's empty cowl was one of those sorrows that harkened back to when a big hand had dropped onto his small shoulder with a stern "Jaylad" that failed to hide laughter.)
Losing Dick was like losing hope. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew why he was supposed to do it. He knew how it would work.
He just couldn't find a good enough reason to try.
That didn't mean he quit, though. He stepped up. He did what he thought was right.
He pretended.
Then he found out that Dick had done it to him. He found out that his heart was still beating, that his hands still clutched to life, that his smile was still sickeningly soft, and his eyes were as blue as he remembered, so fucking blue. Bluebird chose to abandon them, and he'd looked so happy and relieved. It was like he'd taken a vacation, and -
(And something in Jason snapped - some of the hero worship that had somehow survived the pit had begun to die - and that sick, green part of him itched to rip flesh from bone, to break his hands, to make his eyes water with the fraction of pain that he'd given to them without a second thought -)
(Dick was lucky he'd only punched him.)
(He wondered if that ever went through Bruce's mind. If he was grateful that when he exploded, it had only been a punch.)
"Fuck." Jason whispered.
He recognized a spiral when he felt it. It was embarrassing, but his anger outweighed the shame.
However, the anger - it had to go. He had to stop. He'd said that he was done with Spyral. So he was done.
He plastered his gaze to Dick's chest, the Nightwing symbol laying beneath his (shaking) fingers. He pulled away, almost ripping off the glove, before putting his bare hand beneath Dick's nose. The lightest breath of air was reassuring, but he still scowled at his hand.
There was a sound behind him, a light wind or a gentle step, and he steeled himself.
"I almost lost you two." Starfire - Kory said. Her voice was gentle.
"Kinda the point. Were you followed?"
Her footsteps crunched on the rooftop as she walked to the other side of Dick and sunk to her knees beside him. She reached a hand towards his chest before pulling her hand back with a pained grimace on her face. "What was that?"
"A long story." Jason gritted out.
"I have time." She turned a stubborn gaze on him, and he bristled.
"I don't. Were you followed?"
"No." Kory stared at Jason for a long moment before she continued. "This is about before. On the Watchtower."
Jason rubbed his forehead. "For god's sake, Kory -"
"No." She interrupted, shaking her head hard enough for her long, red locks to look like fire. "Jason, we have to talk about this."
"Seems like we should wait for him to wake up."
She paused, breathing out slowly. "I don't know what he thinks anymore. I could use your advice. Your - He is your brother."
"Look. I shouldn't have said what I -"
Her fists clenched. "Nothing is solved with secrets."
"People keep secrets for a reason." Jason snarled.
Her eyes drifted down to lay on Dick's face. "Yes. They do. And it tears apart relationships."
Jason jerked back. "Don't make it sound like it was his fault -"
"What happened happened." Kory stated. "It wasn't just him. Us. We both - We both -"
A silence fell for a long time, and they watched as the sun began to fade into the distance. The sky was changing to twilight, and still, Dick did not stir.
"I needed to talk about what happened." Kory whispered into the heavy air dividing them. "Dick and I were together for a long time. It was in the public eye as well, so when I was no longer with Dick, reporters started harassing me. I knew already that - that anything they managed to get me to say would be twisted into something I would never say. Something that would hurt him. Even though I knew that Dick and I didn't - didn't work, a part of me still wanted it to. A part of me had this dream that I'd be able to try again. That things would be different. It was just a dream, though. The hurt I had was bitter. Dark. And it was - it was a disease. So I went to someone that I could trust. Someone who hadn't been there, who hadn't teased us or called me names or - or used goods -"
"You went to Roy."
"I went to Roy."
"So you talked."
"I needed to deal with it. Accept it." she breathed out. “What happened - it hurt. It . . . It hurt me that I was so replaceable. That he wouldn’t notice when another woman was standing right in front of him. It hurt -”
“Hurt more than being raped? Yeah. That sounds about right.” Jason muttered.
Her eyes flashed green, and in the low light, they glowed in a way far different than fireflies bumbling through the air or glow sticks held up in the sky by little hands. There was something predatory there - something that made his instincts scream louder than the training he’d used to drown them out. He gritted his teeth against the fear as she snarled “That is not what I said. Do not put words in my mouth.”
"Then what did you mean?" Jason challenged.
"That I thought I had someone I could trust, and I didn't!" she roared. She breathed out so harshly that Jason could hear the air whooshing out of her lungs. She seemed to sink down into herself before laying a hand on Dick's face. "What I said was only for Roy's ears. My pain is not meant to devalue Dick's pain in the same way he would've never used his pain to devalue what I was going through. People suffer, Jason. And sometimes, it separates people. I wish things had gone differently, but sometimes, love isn't enough to bridge the gap."
Jason stared at her. He stared at the woman who oozed love from every pore, who was never shy about her affections and feelings, whose very being was emotion and joy incarnate, and a searing pain went through his chest.
He wanted to tell her that Dick loved her, too. He wanted to tell her to try again. He wanted to tell her that she was enough and that she was one of the people he admired. He wanted to tell her that she was one of the only people he actually trusted with his brother. He wanted to tell her a million things - quote a million poets and philosophers just to lift her spirits.
But he couldn't.
He couldn't tell her the truth. He couldn't lie to her. He didn't even know where the truth ended and the lie began.
Instead, he said "The invasion."
She blinked a few times, not looking at him. "What?"
"During the invasion, Dick got a blessing from a goddess. It was supposed to be just for the invasion, but everything went wrong. So now he's her Chosen, whatever the hell that means, and he's got a curse on him."
"A curse?"
"We keep seeing his memories." Jason groused. "Me, Tim, and Damian. We keep seeing things he didn't want to tell us."
She frowned. "He never talked to you about Mirage himself?"
"After the memory, sure." Jason said, but that made her frown harder. "There's a lot of things he won't talk about, but lately . . . lately, I think it's changing. He's changing."
She stared at Dick as darkness fell, and the two fell into a quiet that was too heavy to interrupt.
Notes:
I'm afraid this chapter is more an interlude, but stick with me. There's more coming.
Thank you to everyone who's been enjoying this piece! I really appreciate your kind words and the time you guys have spent on this fic. <3
Chapter 27: When Will People Start Gettin' Together Again?
Summary:
Nightwing sat up, rubbing his forehead with a groan before his eyes caught on red - auburn locks - Starfire.
"Hi." Nightwing managed.
She gave a smile that was dimmer than usual. "Hi."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Dick was sitting on the edge of a great precipice. He wasn't sure how long he'd been there, but it was simultaneously forever and just moments. Down below were the glittering lights of a city, though the lit-up "W" on top of the Wayne Tower shined brighter than all of them combined. Dick's eyes drifted up to the bright, bright moon in the sky.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a shadow, but whenever he turned his head to look, nothing was there.
"Why does the past matter so much to you?" Dick asked, his voice lighter than a dove.
Light after light turned off in the city below, making Wayne Tower look like a beacon.
"It's what we do now that defines us. It's not a fight a year ago or a failure ten years ago that makes us who we are. I don't care what happened. I choose who I am now." Dick continued, but then he paused.
He tilted his head as if he could hear something in the rustling of leaves behind him and the distant sound of the city before him. Graceful as ever, he stood and turned to face the shadow.
It didn't disappear this time.
Standing to its full height, there was a mass of darkness with two familiar points coming from atop its head. However, it was the bright bat insignia on its chest that drew Dick's eye. He reached out a hand to touch it, and his eyes became wet. He looked up, eyes catching where there should have been a face.
"Oh." Dick said softly. "I understand."
The inky darkness exploded outward, enveloping Dick in a comforting warmth and taking away the sky above and the city below. He closed his eyes and relaxed into it, knowing that he'd remember nothing when he awoke.
There was a slightly harsher than necessary slap on his face. Dick groaned.
"That's it, dickhead. Wakey, wakey."
A gloved hand patted his cheek a couple times, and Dick opened one eye to make out the blurry figure of the Red Hood.
Right. Nightwing. He thought, forcing both eyes open. "Did you slap me?"
"It worked, didn't it?" Hood pointed out.
Nightwing sat up, rubbing his forehead with a groan before his eyes caught on red - auburn locks - Starfire.
"Hi." Nightwing managed.
She gave a smile that was dimmer than usual. "Hi."
Nightwing could audibly hear the eyeroll that the Red Hood gave as he said "Good. Great! Everyone's acquainted. Now let's go talk to Zatanna like we were supposed to God knows how long ago."
"Yeah. We should do that." Nightwing agreed, but he didn't move.
"Yes." Starfire said, also staying exactly where she was.
The Red Hood's voice was so irritated that Nightwing could imagine just how hard the man beneath the helmet was scowling. "As much as I'd love to stay here, that was a big scene in front of the cameras, big blue. We don't want to be here when they send out the helicopters to get a scoop."
Nightwing sighed. "You're right. We need to go."
"Yeah. So get a move on." said the younger bat before swinging off the rooftop without the other two.
Starfire breathed out. "I know that now is poor timing, but I - I do think we should talk. About everything."
Nightwing gave her a sad look. "About Mirage."
"Yes." she said, squaring her shoulders.
Nightwing took a breath and gave her a tight smile. "Tomorrow?"
There was a little disappointment in the way her lips stiffened, but there was also a strange relief in her eyes when she said "Tomorrow."
Nightwing swallowed and nodded.
Tim waited until Batman was out on patrol, a quieter Robin than normal at his side, to sneak onto the Batcomputer.
(He did his best to ignore the whispers of panic as he let the Batman take his brother. It was no different than a week ago. A week ago, he wouldn't have thought a single thing of Batman and Robin together. They were the dynamic duo.)
(The sound of kevlar on flesh rang through his ears, his vision red with blood -)
(He wouldn't. Tim thought.)
(Wouldn't he? Tim thought.)
(No. Tim thought.)
The Batcomputer.
He had free access to the Batcomputer, but he still felt like a child shoving their hand into the cookie jar while their mother was out of the room. He pushed back the fear, the anxiety, and reminded himself that he was doing what needed to be done. He plugged in a thumb drive, and then his fingers were at play.
It was security footage he was after. Any time that Tim remembered them arguing, all the time when Jason was Robin, any time Tim recalled Nightwing with injuries he didn't know where they were from - frankly, any time. Every time. He started downloading random camera footage on the off chance he'd catch a bit of abuse that he would have skimmed over using just logic.
He needed proof. He needed to establish a pattern just like he did with other abuse cases. Prove that a parent or a partner wasn't providing a healthy homelife, prove that this wasn't just a one-time thing that could be written off -
Then a pop up appeared, reading "Memory device full."
Tim let out a nervous breath, removing the thumb drive and closing out of the footage.
Then he turned and made direct eye contact with -
"Alfred." Tim breathed.
"Master Timothy." Alred said simply, his tone carefully blank.
"I - I was just - just working on a case." Tim stuttered out.
"A case that requires the cave footage?" Alfred asked.
A lump formed in Tim's throat. "Yes."
"I assume this case is very sensitive."
"Yes." Tim said. "It's . . . It's confidential."
Alfred nodded, something Tim couldn't quite read twisting in his face. "Naturally."
The older man began to turn away, and Tim burst out "Don't tell Bruce!"
Alfred paused, and Tim clenched his fists. His voice was quieter when he spoke again, but it was just as strained.
"Please, don't tell Bruce. Please."
"Of course, Master Timothy." Alfred said before continuing on his way.
Tim stayed rooted to the spot, feeling a mix between dread and relief.
Notes:
Also more of an interlude, but I figured a break would be necessary before I got into the next section, 'cause it might be a bit biting. Plus, I need some set up work before everything explodes again. <3
Chapter 28: This is Your Brand New Brother
Summary:
In possibly the stupidest move he could've done, he placed himself between an angry goddess and her prey.
"No." Hood said, voice braver than he felt.
Nightwing tilted his head slowly in a very unhuman-like way.
Chapter Text
Nightwing wasn't sure if he was grateful or . . . hollow at Starfire's hesitant leave, but he found his eyes glazing over until he and the Red Hood were in Zatanna's room in the Watchtower. The two were talking back and forth, and a part of him simply wanted to drift and pretend that nothing mattered.
But it did matter.
"Well, she's clearly powerful." Zatanna said, eyes glued to her phone. "That kind of magical display - it's powerful."
"Think you can get a read on her? And what it might be doing to this idiot?"
"I resent that." Nightwing noted.
"Glad you could join us." Hood replied dryly.
"I can try." Zatanna said, squaring her shoulders. "But I don't know what I'll be able to read. Normally, that kind of magical energy is - it's loud. I can sense it, but right now, I'm getting nothing."
"What's the worst that can happen?" Nightwing said with a grin. "We go home empty-handed. Oh, well. At least you tried."
She gave him a soft smile before gesturing for him to sit on the bed. "Alright. Close your eyes and try to relax."
Nightwing sat on the bed and shut his eyes, trying not to jump when he felt her cold fingers fall into place at his temples. Her voice began to chant in a quiet murmur that grew louder and louder. The symbol on his chest began to tingle, a pleasant warmth flowing through him before it suddenly and painfully spiked into burning pain. He had a split second to let out a sharp whoosh of breath before his vision whited out, and he was gone.
He should have assumed this would all go wrong. He should have known.
It was never easy. It was never "Oh, hey, Zee, can you help us?" and "Oh, sure, here's all the answers you asked for."
Instead, it was his brother's eyes snapping open and glowing bright white as his spine arched in a backbreaking pose that scared Zatanna backwards. The magician fell on her coattails, eyes wide as she backed up, staring as Nightwing rose to his feet too slowly. Magic so thick and powerful that even the Red Hood with no magic to his name (despite what the deranged followers of Ra's al Ghul might claim) could feel exploded outwards.
You dare to desecrate my Chosen - my vessel -
"No, No -" Zatanna gasped as her breath was seemingly stollen from her lungs. Her lips tried to move, but the clear panic in her eyes was enough to shake the Red Hood.
He didn't know a more powerful magic user. Sure, there was her father and Fate and a few people he hoped never to encounter again, but Zatanna -
(Dread filled in his stomach once more. This possession of his brother - every day it felt more dangerous, more permanent -)
(Don't think about that -)
Your disrespect will not go unpunished. You forfeit that which you desecrated with - You forfeit your being. Nightwing's eyes glowed, bright and ominous, but his face was blank - too blank. The man was gone - only the Goddess's will left. It was with total horror and a thought of he would never that her voice boomed once more. You forfeit your magic.
Then the Red Hood was moving.
In possibly the stupidest move he could've done, he placed himself between an angry goddess and her prey.
"No." Hood said, voice braver than he felt.
Nightwing tilted his head slowly in a very unhuman-like way. You stand for Hecate's Child?
"I stand for my friend." the Red Hood snapped. "For Dick's friend."
Make your case, Fire Heart.
Hood gritted his teeth, an old anger waking up in his chest. "There is no case! She did nothing wrong!"
She disrespected me.
"She did what Dick and I asked her to do!" Hood snapped.
And I warned her magic to stay in check. She disobeyed.
He didn't know what the hell that was supposed to mean, but Hood stared forward as the magical presence in the room began to grow heavier and heavier. Something primal inside of him warned that he didn't have much time, and his words spilled forward before he could manage to think about them. "I am the Chosen of your Chosen, and I say no."
A wave of - of something rushed through the room. It radiated outward from him, dissipating the magic as it went until it was just the Red Hood staring into the mask, the eyes glowing so bright white that it was painful to look at even with both of their masks.
Too slowly, his brother stepped towards him - again and again - until Nightwing was standing right there in front of him. Except it wasn't Nightwing. It was her. The goddess, using his brother's body, removed his helmet like a crown from some sacred figure of legend. Then very gently, a kiss was laid on his brow.
Then she was gone, and Nightwing was tumbling into his arms, the helmet rolling from his fingers and thudding against the ground.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Zatanna's voice, hoarse and far too serious, echoed just a bit too loud. "What did you get yourself into?"
The Red Hood didn't look at her when he said "That's what we were trying to ask you."
Tim plugged his thumb drive into his laptop back in his room in the manor. Even though he was alone and knew for a fact that there were no cameras inside to spy on him, he couldn't help the suspicious way his eyes scanned the window, darted to the door, the walls, the dark corners, the shadows -
As the thumb popped up on his screen, he rushed to open the folder, clicking open the first file he had of security footage.
Immediately, his screen went black and when it came back on, the mouse was glitching - darting here, there, to the side, upside-down for some reason. The video wasn't open, but there was a loading bar for something -
Tim rushed to power off his laptop, cursing as the screen went actually black.
He ran angry hands through his hair, messing it up worse instead of smoothing anything down. As he mumbled, he made it worse and worse. "Of course. Of course, Bruce had a virus ready. Why didn't I -"
Then he froze, brain rushing through a thousand thoughts.
Because that was stupid. He was so desperate for an answer, for proof that he'd idolized some kind of monster, for an idea of what kind of abuse he was dealing with that he wasn't thinking anything through.
He should've been ready for a trojan horse. He had similar safeties on his computer.
But more than that, the cave footage was idiotic.
Why would he spend countless hours scanning the cave footage for Batman when he could take the cowl footage from the Batman himself?
When he could make the Batman do the work for him?
This is a stupid idea. A voice whispered in Tim's head.
Yeah, but the right people are worth stupid ideas. Tim thought.
So he did what he did best.
He made a plan.
Chapter 29: And We'll be Carrying Each Other
Summary:
Batman's jaw went slack for just a moment before his sharp, furious gaze turned on Robin. "Robin!"
Drake turned to him as well, but he carefully kept Batman in his peripheral vision. "Damian, I know this looks bad, but -"
"Robin, get his belt!" Batman roared.
Robin tightened his hold on the birdarang, feeling extraordinarily trapped despite not being bound nor playing the role of jailer.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It was only Robin's dignity (and his mother's expectations that had sunk somewhere beneath his skin long ago) that kept his shoulders from sagging when they finally got back to the cave. He was exhausted, aching in his bones for bed (not his bed, though Alfred the cat had only just started to accept Grayson's room). Patrol wasn't long, but it did have a special ability to drain Robin.
It simply wasn't like it was with Grayson. With Grayson, he learned to fly.
With his father, he felt leashed even when he had more freedom.
However, he was careful not to dwell on such thoughts or feelings. They never ended well. Instead, he lifted his chin and pulled himself out of the Batmobile.
Drake was waiting. He was suited up, and though Batman's teeth seemed to grind at the sight, he said nothing.
"Batman." Drake said, pulling off the cowl of his suit to look at Batman. "I've got a rough case that I was hoping you could help me with."
His voice immediately put Robin on edge. It sounded different than the extremely limited number of times that Drake had asked for assistance. His voice was almost always grating, irritation and a lack of gratefulness for help that Robin both related to and found entirely insolent. However, Drake had a hesitant, hopeful tone in his voice.
One that immediately raised Robin's suspicions.
However, Batman softened just a bit. It wasn't obvious in the tight way he held himself or the expression on his face, but Robin knew Batman.
And Tim Drake was once that Robin.
Batman sat down in his chair and pulled himself up to the computer. The moment that his fingers touched the keyboard, Drake hit a button on his belt.
Out of the chair sprang netted bindings, wrapping around the Batman from his neck and forehead down to his boots. Only the lower part of his arms that were positioned perfectly over the keyboard were free. Batman's hand immediately reached for his belt, and Drake impassively hit another button. Batman stiffened, his back arching just a little.
Just enough to tell Robin that Batman had been given an electric shock.
His hand drew a birdarang, reacting instinctively to Batman's capture, but then he froze in place.
Drake's words drifted to him from hours earlier.
It's nothing Dick can't or hasn't already handled, but it is private, and I think Dick ought to be able to talk to you about it himself when he wants to. I shouldn't have lied, though. I'm sorry if I scared you.
Drake lied. Again. And Robin had believed him. He lied first about the entirety of the situation, about what memory he had seen, and using the fact that Robin had figured that out, he managed to tie the right words together to lie about the severity of the situation, because there was no way this was not related to the memory that Drake saw. And if Drake was willing to trap and hurt the Batman, then the memory had to have been bad.
(And that was not to mention the video - the video that had over a million hits in the first hour, the video where Robin had only seen Grayson despite the comments on comments about hearing lost loves, parents, family in Nightwing's voice. The video that Robin had no idea what to do with or about.)
"What are you doing?" Batman demanded, effectively slicing through his thoughts.
"Keep your hands on the keyboard unless you want me to shock you again." Tim stated coldly.
"Who are you?" Batman growled.
"Tim Drake. Red Robin."
"No. Red Robin would never do this. You're brainwashed. Or -"
Robin's eyes flickered to Drake for just a moment, but he dismissed Batman's accusation immediately. A week ago, it would have been the only reasonable explanation. Now it was ludicrous.
"It's me." Drake said simply. "I'm sorry, B."
Batman's jaw went slack for just a moment before his sharp, furious gaze turned on Robin. "Robin!"
Drake turned to him as well, but he carefully kept Batman in his peripheral vision. "Damian, I know this looks bad, but -"
"Robin, get his belt!" Batman roared.
Robin tightened his hold on the birdarang, feeling extraordinarily trapped despite not being bound nor playing the role of jailer.
"Damian," Tim asserted, but then his voice dropped to something more - more Tim, more sincere, "there's something I need to know, and this is the best way for me to find out. Something that I should have already suspected but was blinded to because of - of hero worship and adoration that - I made a mistake. And now I want to fix it."
"Robin!" Batman snapped.
"This is about Nightwing." Robin stated, focusing on Drake despite the holes his father's gaze bore into him.
"Yes." Drake replied.
Slowly, Robin pulled off his mask.
It was Damian that placed himself firmly beside Drake. His heart pounded, and he stared down the man that he had betrayed. He could not help the way his mind drifted to his mother, his grandfather, the league that he had turned his back on.
He did not regret it.
He hoped he would not live to regret this either.
"Batman." Drake said, sounding out the word slowly before his face darkened. "I know."
Batman stared silently, unwilling to admit that he didn't know what Drake was referring to.
Clever. Damian thought, saying nothing and willing to deny the thought if anyone ever asked. Force Batman to guess what he's thinking and see what he reveals.
However, Drake had already revealed enough in the way he'd convinced Damian to join him. Had that been purposeful or was it a misstep? Damian gritted his teeth, both unsure and furious that he did not make his decision sooner.
"There are things you shouldn't know." Batman snapped.
"You think you're protecting me with your secrets. At least, you want to think that's why you keep secrets. But since we're being honest, let's admit that both of us know the person you're really protecting is yourself." Drake said with a practiced edge but real anger beneath his tone.
Batman reared back just a little, mouth parting.
Damian didn't recognize the words. He didn't think he wanted to.
"I am protecting you." Batman growled.
"From yourself?" Drake asked.
"From more than you know."
"And whose fault is that?" Drake snapped.
"Fine. Is this what you want?"
Batman's hands flew across the keyboard, and Damian had just enough time to think Batman won before the video began to play.
When Nightwing woke up, he felt dizzy. The world was spinning just a bit too much, and he wanted very badly to go back to sleep.
"Finally." Red Hood's voice drifted to him.
"Sorry, but some of us need our beauty sleep." Nightwing muttered.
"Then you should go back to sleep." Hood said.
Nightwing couldn't help his grin before he swallowed back the nausea. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, grateful for the gentle way the Red Hood helped push him up as his eyes drifting to Zatanna. "Ugh. What happened?"
"Uh, well, a magic deity may have wanted to strip my magic from me, but hey, that's not new." she said simply, and Nightwing's skin paled.
"Are you okay?" Nightwing asked, pulling himself to his feet. He stumbled for a second before catching himself, and the Red Hood gave him a look that - that he could see. Because the helmet was gone. He blinked a couple times, but the Red Hood said nothing.
"I'm fine, N." she replied warmly. "But more importantly, I have some answers for you."
Nightwing swallowed thickly. "That's - That's great."
"So from what I can tell, you yourself are mostly the same. Just as human and unmagical as you ever were."
"Mostly?" the Red Hood demanded. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, there was something clinging to you - powerful magic, but there was only a hint right over your heart. So I followed it. It seems you have a spiritual connection with this being, and when you're in danger or something, she can use the connection to -"
"Possess him." Hood said.
"Yes." Zatanna agreed. "If she were to do that too much, though, your body wouldn't be able to take it. That's why she's only created a shared connection instead of trying to share your body. This way, you're only getting a limited exposure to her magic."
"I guess that's why I feel like a ray of sunshine, huh?" Nightwing said. "Hopefully, getting possessed twice in a day won't be common."
The Red Hood frowned tightly. "What happens if she possesses him too much?"
"I'd suggest you get him to a hospital." Zatanna replied simply.
Hood scowled at her.
"Well, thanks, Zee. We really appreciate it -"
"There's more."
Nightwing's eyes widened. "There is?"
"Yes." she said, turning to point at the Red Hood. "Her magic is in you, too."
"What? But that's -"
"All I can tell you."
"Bullshit!" Hood snapped.
"Hood." Nightwing groaned.
"Look." Zatanna reared around, poking a finger into Hood's chest. "I risked my magic to get you two those answers. That's all the information I could get, and it was difficult and risky. So you better be grateful!"
"Thank you, Zatanna." Nightwing said. "I can't thank you enough."
She glanced over at Nightwing, and her gaze softened. She walked over to him and hugged him tightly. "Of course. Take care of yourself, N. You're always welcome here."
"Thanks Zee."
"As for you," she said, looking at the Red Hood, "get out. I'm tired of dealing with you today."
He gave a look like he'd swallowed a lemon, scooping up his helmet in his hand. "Yeah, that's fair. Thanks, Zatanna. I owe you one."
She rolled her eyes.
"I'll see you later. Let me know if you need anything." Nightwing said, ushering out the Red Hood.
Despite Nightwing's burst of energy to get him out of Zatanna's space, the Red Hood could clearly see the exhaustion weighing the other man down. While he was still graceful and continued forward as though his steps were lighter than air, every so often his step would falter. He pressed a fist to his forehead, giving a quiet yawn.
"Let's stop for a second." Hood said, leaning against the wall.
Nightwing paused. "I'm fine."
"Well, I'm not." Hood said, the obvious lie sitting on his teeth. "That took it out of me."
Nightwing snorted, but he walked over and leaned on the wall beside him, so Hood took it as a win.
The two fell into a companionable silence. There were no heroes walking to or fro down the hall, leaving them in almost a bubble where only they two existed.
Nightwing's head fell back against the wall, and he took in a deep breath. "Thank you."
The Red Hood blinked. "For what?"
"Well, I . . . It's been hard." Nightwing said slowly, face pinched, and the Red Hood couldn't help but wonder how difficult it was to even admit that. "Since the goddess and the memories and - and even before that. Things have been hard for a long time. And I don't always handle things the best."
"I think you're doing fine."
"I let a lot of people walk over me." Nightwing said simply. "Not for the important stuff, but - I chose my battles, because I wanted as many contacts as possible. And I got that, but it comes at a price. There's almost no one I can't call for help and almost no one that wouldn't trust me if they needed it. But that meant - not saying anything when -"
Huntress's biting voice drifted through his mind. Apology accepted.
"That's fucked up." Hood said. "That is important."
Nightwing said nothing.
"They should respect you as a leader and a person." Hood said simply, scowling as he tried to find the right words. "They'd never say that shit to Superman or Wonder Woman. They'd never say that to Batman."
Nightwing sighed. "I don't want to be Batman."
"Not my point." Red Hood pointed out.
"Yeah." Nightwing conceded. "I just mean - thank you. For saying something even when I wasn't helping the situation. You're a good brother."
"Sure."
"No, I mean it." Nightwing said, turning to him. "You're a really good brother."
"I've fucked up a lot. I beat Red Robin half to death. I shot you. And that's not to mention the littlest twerp." Hood replied.
"That's in the past." Nightwing replied. "I've always thought the present was more important. And you now? I trust you. I trust you to help me, and I trust you with our brothers. I know they'd be in good hands if something ever happened to me."
"Well, I'm here to make sure nothin' does." the Red Hood replied stiffly.
Nightwing gave him a smile, one that was strangely comforting. "You know, if I'm the Chosen of the goddess, you're my Chosen."
Hood let out a breath. The goddess's voice drifted back to him from a fog - a dream.
You are the Chosen of my Chosen.
She had known.
However, Hood let that thought drift away and simply enjoyed sitting side by side with his brother.
Notes:
Just wanted to say thank you all for your lovely comments and reading this far! I really appreciate it, and Iwanted to make sure you know I really appreciate it.
However, I also wanted to give you guys a heads up that this is the start of a real mess. Multiple storylines and traumatic memories are going to be dealt with at once, so if ever it gets confusing, give me a heads up, and I'll do my best to make sure to clarify.
Thank you all again! <3
Chapter 30: The House that Built Me
Summary:
He was back to his feet, eyes catching on Damian as he managed to free himself when there was a hard hit to his ankle. Tim tumbled down. He managed a solid break fall, quickly pushing himself over onto his back to face Batman, and -
Batman's fist was raised.
Chapter Text
Tim's chest constricted, tight and anxious even as he stared on at the screen.
He couldn't look away.
(He couldn't breathe -)
He couldn't even pay attention to Damian beside him, because he couldn't even think -
"Batman?" Dick breathed out on the screen, body locked in a machine too big - huge. His face dripped sweat, smeared blood on his face that looked - odd. Like someone had tried to clean him up but didn't do a very good job.
Dick would never let his captor clean him up - do anything that would build trust. He was trained too well. Tim thought distantly as he stared into his brother's exhausted face.
And then the camera was so close, gloved hands running through dark hair clumped with blood and sweat. Dick's eyes were shinning blue, bright and vulnerable as Batman's voice, gravelly and low, trembled for a moment into Bruce Wayne's tamber. "I'm sorry I shut you out. All of you. I didn't want you getting hurt . . . I'm going to get you out of this."
Tim clamped down on a noise, be it a gasp or a word, unwilling to give Batman anything he could use.
(Even if a part of him had been waiting and waiting - dying to hear those words for so long, too long -)
"No." Dick breathed, the light catching a bruise on his cheek that had been practically skinned.
"Richard . . ." Damian breathed -
"You need to . . . leave." Dick continued, eyes so red for being so dry. "You need to go . . ."
There was a loud bang, but the camera didn't move - Batman's gaze didn't move. He stayed there, running a comforting hand through Dick's greasy hair and staring at eyes that were too accepting of what may come.
But then - a timer. And wires coming out of the machine and hooked into skin -
Ba - Deep.
Ba - Deep.
Ba - Deep.
"What is that?"
"It's a countdown. This isn't just a fancy pair of handcuffs, Catwoman. It's a bomb."
"You don't understand . . ." Dick said slowly, and his face was back on screen.
Tim's fists tightened, gloves the only thing that kept his nails from sinking into skin.
"I'm going to disarm it and get you out of here." Batman rumbled comfortingly, but Dick gave him a look that shattered something inside of Tim, something deep inside that -
(That already shattered once, that grieved and grew and found some laughter and love again, that could just begin to think about the good times without having to shut down when he was suddenly alive, and it was locked away - gone - behind a door labeled lies -)
We have to do better. Jason had said.
Tim couldn't feel his fingertips.
Ba - Deep.
Ba - Deep.
"This cell was designed to hold Doomsday, Luthor." Batman rumbled as if Tim could possibly care about if Luthor was there when his brother was hooked up to a bomb.
Ba - Deep.
"Is the countdown monitoring his heart?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Ba - Deep.
And suddenly, Tim knew.
"Batman, what -" Damian started, but the Batman's voice growled out from the speakers.
"The detonator is hooked into it." Batman said, pulling a piece of metal away to get better access.
"Batman . . ." Dick said, blue eyes drifting away as if he couldn't bear to look at the man. "The bomb . . . It only disarms . . . if my heart stops."
Ba - Deep.
"Please . . . Listen to me . . ." Dick said, finally turning his gaze back. His voice was calm, even, but his eyes were wet. Blood began to drip more and more as he talked - out of his nose, out from the corner of his mouth. Tim knew the signs of a beating, knew torture when he saw it, but seeing the signs slowly seeping out of his big brother - "You still have time to get yourself out of here."
"I am not leaving you, Dick." Batman's voice raised, fear finally seeping in. "I am not abandoning you."
(Words Tim longed to hear once. Now he wished he could unhear it.)
"You aren't, Bruce. And you never have."
Tim stared into his brothers eyes, and -
And -
And he wavered.
Ba - Deep.
"The only way we're getting out of here is together . . ." Batman - No, Bruce said. "No . . . The wires . . . Every time I disconnect a relay, it fixes itself."
Ba - Deep.
"Then there's only one way to disarm this bomb, Batman." Luthor's voice drifted in again, but this time, Tim cared.
Batman cried out, and Dick's expression changed - horror and concern heavy in those blue eyes as he fell away - as Batman was dragged away.
"Richard." Damian gasped out.
He shouldn't see this. Tim thought distantly. Dick wouldn't want -
Rain. Rain. He felt two raindrops run down his -
(No, no, no, no, no more rain -)
Don't look. Tim thought, but he stared on as he caught the last glimpse of Dick's face shifting into acceptance.
"What the hell are you doing, Luthor?" cried Catwoman.
Dick wasn't back on screen. Tim couldn't see him.
But he heard it when Luthor said "I'm making an executive decision, Catwoman. I'm saving our lives . . ."
Ba - Deep.
". . . by ending his. I'm sorry, Mr. Grayson."
Ba - Deep.
And then there was a glimpse of them - of Luthor with a hand over Dick's mouth and nose -
Tim breathed in sharply.
"Luthor, you hurt him and I will kill you!" Batman roared, violence spilling forward through the video, but Tim couldn't process it, couldn't take it and analyze it, couldn't compartmentalize it, because -
BA - DEEP.
Where was Dick?
Where -
Even from afar, Dick's eyes were squinted and clearly watery. His nose and forehead were scrunched, his chest shaking even where it was hooked up -
"He's suffocating him." Damian whispered. "Grayson is -"
BA - DEEP!
"It's the only way to save us, Batman."
A loud, high noise came screaming out of the speakers. If Tim weren't so numb, the noise would make him flinch, but he couldn't think over Batman's anguished "Dick?! No!"
And Luthor's face and blood were on screen, and Tim couldn't - he couldn't look at him.
His eyes turned to the Batman -
The chair was empty.
Immediately, Tim dropped into a fighting style, a birdarang in his hand. To his immense relief, Damian took no time to guard his back, weapon in hand. The violence screaming from the speakers masked all the sound in the cave as the two scanned the shadows. The T-Rex, the coin, those godawful cases that Tim had prayed and mourned and fucking cried in front of -
There was a breath of air, and Tim dove forward. Damian was right on his heel. Both managed to avoid the batarang that clanged against the floor as Batman's voice screeched out "YOU MURDERER!"
"He's above." Damian breathed out beneath the heart-wrenching sound of a father's grief unleashed.
Tim didn't acknowledge what he said, but he shifted to the left and watched as Damian went right, pretending to search the walls still.
It didn't take long before Luthor shouted "It's not too late, you idiot."
The sound blocked out the sound of multiple throws, but not all of them. Damian let out a sharp cry, and Tim spun around to see two batarangs uselessly tossed aside, but there were three pinning his cape to the floor. Tim went to run to him when -
"YOU MURDERED NIGHTWING!"
The Batman's shadow fell before he did, his looming presence dropping to the ground - between Tim and Damian.
(And for a moment, just a moment, Tim knew what it was to fear the Batman.)
Batman charged at him as his own cry drowned out his movement, and Tim dropped into a roll. He was back to his feet, eyes catching on Damian as he managed to free himself when there was a hard hit to his ankle. Tim tumbled down. He managed a solid break fall, quickly pushing himself over onto his back to face Batman, and -
Batman's fist was raised.
"Tim!" Damian shouted.
Huh. Tim thought as the fist began to come toward his face. He called me Tim.
But then there was a black and blue blur, and Batman hit the ground hard.
Tim's eyes drifted to the side, catching the Red Hood where he stood stiffly, staring. His gaze snapped to Batman and - and Nightwing.
Nightwing stood over the Batman, glaring downward. Behind him on the screen, his own tired but relieved and trusting eyes stared into the camera as he was pulled forward by gloved hands, hands that touched him with the utmost kindness and reverence. Nightwing's gaze shifted to the side for a single moment before snapping back to the prone figure of the Batman, understanding lighting his face with anger.
He stepped forward and kicked the Batman's shoulders down to the ground before placing a boot firmly over the golden symbol on the man's chest.
His voice was sharp as a razor when he spoke.
"How dare you."
Chapter 31: That's When I Need my Father's Eyes
Summary:
Batman couldn't be a victim.
He had to be more.
For Gotham.
Chapter Text
The harsh, blunt press of tactical boots.
The tense line of muscle barely holding back violence.
The biting tone in his voice.
Though Batman couldn't see his eyes, he knew what they looked like. Electric blue. Cold. Betrayed. Scathing.
Just like his mother's.
Bruce's hands were shaking. It wasn't fair that he was shaking, trembling when there was a child there whose life had been shattered like a teacup by a careless socialite. However, he couldn't force down the tremor, couldn't stop hearing a rope snapping (a gunshot), couldn't breathe past the stench of blood, tears, a young boy's cries -
"Gordon!" Bruce called, a little too loud, a little too desperate.
The cop sighed, eyes drifting to the dark night before turning on Bruce.
Whatever he said was lost, because Bruce could see him - the littlest Grayson and now the only Grayson - sitting there. Red and blue light reflected off of wet cheeks, and his eyes seemed to almost glow blue like a demon or -
Dick Grayson's mother was someone that Bruce had never met yet had sat down with a thousand times. She was a stranger to him, but they'd shared a love of a child so deep and true that there was a kinship there that surpassed death. Though Bruce did not know her voice, her words haunted him through both the waking and the sleeping world.
And her eyes?
They were blue.
"He was a child." She hissed in his dreams. "And you've turned him into you."
That's why I did it. He tried to say back. So he wouldn't turn into me.
But she never hears him. Every dream was and is and will be the same. She just stares with those blue, blue eyes. Cold. Betrayed. Scathing.
Dick was laying there on the bed, bleeding in his wrappings. He was so still he could have been dead. If Bruce could look away to look at the heart monitor, he could reassure himself that his boy would be okay, but he kept torturing himself instead.
"Are you sure this is the right course of action, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. "Robin is very important to Master -"
"It's the only way."
The cave seemed even quieter after he'd spoken. Heavier.
"As you wish."
And he was alone.
With Dick.
(With what was almost his corpse -)
Bruce had trusted. Had loved. Had felt.
Many accused him of not being able to feel, but it was a basic part of humanity. There had been days where he embraced empathy. Days of giving little children a good moment amongst the chaos, days of trying and trying and trying to rehabilitate those trapped in Arkham, days of laughter. However, it had to end.
(End in fire. End in a broken Robin.)
(End in a night he could remember - knew he could remember if he just tried. A blurry night that haunted him.)
(Was he allowed to regret it when it had given him his son?)
Empathy was for victims. Batman couldn't be a victim.
He had to be more.
For Gotham.
Jaylad. Jason. Robin.
What had he done?
"He's dead because of you!"
A punch.
Harsh words.
Jaylad. Jason.
Robin . . .
Dick's mother shook her head. Her anger was explosive, burning everything around her. She was so like her son.
"How dare you call him your son!"
So blue . . .
It had been an accident.
He'd only just begun working with Tim's combat skills. Training Tim - Training Robin was his job, but he couldn't do it. Not at first. Dick had stepped in while he was . . . incapacitated. However, it was time for him to step up. After all, this was Batman's job.
But he'd miscalculated.
When he trained Dick, he'd been fast, light on his feet, flexible.
And when he trained Jason, he'd been scrappy and aggressive, ready to throw his weight around however necessary.
Tim . . . Tim wasn't. He wasn't like either of them.
Tim was small. Tim backed up when Batman came towards him. Tim took a second too long to react.
Tim had stumbled over his feet and fallen into Bruce's fist.
"Are you -"
"I'm fine!" Tim scowled, an embarrassed flush spreading across his cheeks. He climbed to his feet, giving Batman a sharp look. "Show me the move again."
Bruce did, and he watched as Tim's calculating eyes followed each and every movement. Tim wasn't like Dick, naturally gifted, or Jason, a street kid who threw himself forward because he couldn't risk going backwards. No, Tim was different.
Tim was like Batman.
Stephanie was obstinate. Something about her tone made Batman furious yet ache somewhere deep down.
(Deep, deep down - where he'd buried Bruce.)
"Come on, old man. We can't wait anymore!" She exclaimed, gesturing down to the alley below. The wind swept her blonde hair out of her face, and she scowled. She was so young.
"Wait, Robin."
"You wait! I'm not going to sit on my thumbs and do nothing!"
"Robin -"
"See ya, old man."
And she was gone, disappearing over the ledge and for just a second, Batman heard someone else's voice.
Jaylad.
Jason . . .
Gunfire.
Robin.
"Robin!"
He didn't like being Bruce.
It was something he'd never say out loud, but it was an essential part of his being that everyone who truly knew him understood.
Bruce was weak.
Bruce was scared.
Bruce was just a man.
A corpse.
Batman was an idea. An ideology. A safe haven and the boogie man.
(A way to make sure that there would be no more little boys who died in Crime Alley.)
"Father, when may I see Richard?" Damian asked so demurely that Batman couldn't believe he was the same violent, emotionless yet prideful creature that had appeared on his doorstep so long ago.
"You can't." Batman said before trying to soften his voice to something that used to be natural. "While you were gone, he . . ."
"Ah." Damian murmured. "I see."
The boy clasped his hands together behind his back, reserved. He gave him a respectful nod before turning away, but Batman saw his eyes first.
They weren't his eyes.
They weren't Talia's eyes.
They were . . . like Mary Grayson's. Cold. Betrayed. Scathing.
Hurt. Afraid.
Lost.
All of that went through Batman's mind in an instant. In a flash. In the time it took Nightwing to hiss out "How dare you."
Yet all the memories and self-discoveries in the world couldn't give him the right words for this - for what he'd done.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Nightwing snarled.
Tim is too much like me. Batman thought. He can't become me.
"Well?"
Batman said nothing.
Nightwing kept his eyes on Batman, unwilling to look away.
"Damian." Nightwing called, voice gentler but an implicit order beneath his tone. "Take Tim upstairs."
There was a pause. Batman didn't look away from his oldest son.
(How dare you call him your son!)
"I am hesitant to leave you." Damian said in stilting words, and Batman wanted to be proud of his child articulating his emotions, but a hole deep inside of him swallowed the feeling.
"I have Jason here with me, Dami. Bruce and I need to have some words. Right now, it would really help me if you took your brother upstairs."
"I'm fine." Tim said, voice dull.
There was another pause, and Nightwing finally turned his gaze to Damian. His heel dug deeper into Batman's chest, but he didn't move. He wouldn't.
(He couldn't.)
"He's right, Drake. Let's go."
Everything was wrong about that interaction. Most of all, it was wrong that Tim didn't shoot back a harsh word and stubbornly stay in the cave. Batman knew that was what his son should have done. To act so out of character . . .
(What had he done?)
Their footsteps echoed, and it was only after the slam of the door that Nightwing's boot shifted, harshly kicking him onto his side. He sat up slowly, looking up at Nightwing only to see Mary's eyes.
"Get up, Bruce." Dick said. "We have to talk."
Chapter 32: That Stubborn Boy was Just Like my Father's Son
Summary:
"Then remember this." she replied, both hands covering his eyes. "Redemption is the journey walked by those who hurt. Forgiveness is the sea for the hurt to wade in. Should one side overstep, then the path is lost for both. Be gentle, Damian al Ghul Wayne Grayson. Be wise."
Chapter Text
They weren't supposed to wear costumes in the manor. It was a well-established rule for multiple purposes. For one, it was to preserve a work-life balance (as Grayson had explained more than once when Damian had first become his Robin). Of course, it was also to preserve their secret identities should there be unexpected guests or unidentified cameras in the manor. The most important reason was, of course, that Alfred did not like it.
However, Damian thought this counted as an exception.
Drake was silent. Though the Red Robin costume hid his eyes, Damian was sure that his eyes were distant - thinking.
Drake was always thinking.
(A secret part of Damian admired found his mind moderately above average.)
(Not that he'd ever tell Drake that.)
The halls were too quiet. Abandoned. It was a relief when the two of them reached Drake's door.
Drake opened it and stepped inside before pausing.
There was a quiet, awkward moment where Damian could come up with nothing to say.
Then Drake, still facing away from him, let out a breath. "Thanks for bringing me up here. I'm okay now. I've just got some . . . some thinking to do."
Damian frowned. "But you -"
"Just leave me alone, Damian." Drake said, and the door was shut in his face.
Damian frowned at the door. He wanted to kick it in and demand that Drake listen to him, but instead, he sucked in a deep, slow breath.
Damian had some thinking to do as well.
His steps were muffled by the carpet, but they still felt unbearably loud and intrusive in the space. His eyes flickered to the tall walls and familiar path he knew too well. When he reached Grayson's room, he stopped outside of the door before pushing aside the door. Slowly, he stripped out of the Robin costume and changed into something more comfortable.
That done, he squared his shoulders and sat cross-legged on the bed facing the Flying Graysons poster. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.
He'd spent enough time stalling.
"Goddess, I need to know." he said slowly. "Drake is afraid. Todd is acting strangely. Grayson has lost his faith in my . . . in Bruce. And no one will tell me what is wrong or what is happening! I am not a child. I do not need to be protected. I need to understand. Please."
There was silence.
For too long.
He huffed out a bitter breath and opened his eyes -
Only to see Mary Grayson sitting on the bed in front of him. However, she wasn't the Mary Grayson from the memories he'd stolen from his mentor or the woman in the posters. This was Mary Grayson as she should be - gray streaking her hair and smile lines carved into her face, still beautiful with age. The Robin costume fitted to her body made him lose his breath.
She reached out and ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh." she said softly. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I do." Damian argued, eyebrows furrowing.
"No. You don't." she laughed.
Damian scowled. "I did not ask to be ridiculed."
"I am not laughing at you, Dami." she smiled. "When you're as old as I, youth is something to be treasured. I find joy in you."
Damian's lips parted silently, suddenly struck by the being that took shape in front of him. She was older than - than anything he'd encountered, a being with powers he'd only barely seen glimpses of through Grayson - through a video that was at a view count that was record breaking. In her smallest fingertip was the kind of power that his grandfather had only dreamt about.
Yet her hand was carding through his hair as if he were the most precious, magical thing she'd seen.
And she looked with Mary Grayson's eyes.
Damian swallowed past a lump in his throat. "I need to know."
"Why?" she asked. It wasn't a demand or a harsh word. She said it genuinely, openly - an offer.
He had a chance.
Damian took a slow breath in. "Goddess, I - I died."
She looked unbearably sad. "I remember."
Damian bit his lip. "I was fighting - Well, I suppose I was fighting my brother. I had this belief, foolish as it may be, that I could reach my mother. That she still loved me. I failed."
She gave him a severe frown, but she did not interrupt.
"I found footage later. Of Batman's rage. Of Grayson carrying me. And it made me think of the moment before where I told Grayson that we were the best. He has been my favorite partner by far." Damian sighed. "But when I returned, he was dead, too, and I could not help but wonder why I had been returned in his stead. However, we are both back. We are both here, and I still feel that I'm here for a reason. I feel that I can reach my family here the way I could not reach my mother. So I'm asking you to show me when it went wrong, so I can not only help my family but redeem myself as well."
Her hand trailed down, cupping his face. "You are wrong, my little Robin. You did not fail. Your mother did. She failed you."
"Nonetheless, this is something I must do."
"Then remember this." she replied, both hands covering his eyes. "Redemption is the journey walked by those who hurt. Forgiveness is the sea for the hurt to wade in. Should one side overstep, then the path is lost for both. Be gentle, Damian al Ghul Wayne Grayson. Be wise."
Gentle lips laid a soft blessing on his forehead, and he fell into darkness.
Though the video had come to its own natural end, the Red Hood still felt his eyes tracking to it. While they had appeared late, he'd seen enough.
Of both the video and Batman's actions.
However, he was having trouble wrapping his mind around either.
"Take it off." Dick demanded coldly.
There was a moment, just one long, terrible moment, where the Batman stayed where he was on the ground, unmoving. Then he climbed to his feet and removed the cowl.
(The Red Hood knew that he should have taken off his helmet, joined the conversation, but he couldn't think of anything to say or think beyond Nightwing and murdered and a slew of curses that wouldn't be helpful in the moment.)
"What happened?" Dick snapped.
Bruce's lips stayed in a thin line.
"No. None of that." Dick said, pointing at the man that had raised him. "We're having a conversation. With words. So explain it, Bruce. Out loud. What happened?"
Bruce's eyes flickered to the Red Hood. Dick stared at him, body tense as a bow sting.
An audible breath came through Bruce's teeth, and then he spoke. "Red Robin -"
"No." Dick snapped. "Tim. Tim, your son. Tim. The one you asked me to be adopted for so that he would be more comfortable with it. His name is Tim."
Red Hood flinched, eyes wide as he took in the new information.
Bruce's voice was just a touch quieter when he spoke. "Tim trapped me. Shocked me. He did his best to manipulate me into giving him information."
"I'm less interested in what Tim did and more in what you almost did to Tim." Dick said simply.
"He -"
"No, Bruce. You were going to hit him."
"He was acting like me."
There was a pause, and Dick stared at him. "No, Bruce. He wasn't. Tim may have used the same methods, but he wasn't acting like you. Tim was thinking about this family - has been trying to do everything he can to bring this family together that he knows how. And that's not something you've done in a long time."
Bruce flinched backwards before something slipped onto his face - anger, hurt, desperation? The Red Hood couldn't tell. However, his hand rested on his gun when he eyed the aggressive way the man moved forward towards Dick.
"I'm trying to protect this family!" he snarled.
Dick leaned forward, teeth gritted as his voice raised. "By hitting us?"
"By stopping him from becoming something he doesn't want to be!"
"Who are you to say what Tim wants to be?" Dick put his finger, blaming and pointed, right on the Bat insignia emblazoned on Bruce's chest.
"Gotham doesn't need -"
"This isn't about Gotham!" Dick roared. "You keep sacrificing us for Gotham, but no one asked you to! If we all worked together as a team -"
"Ideals don't help people." Bruce snapped.
"Batman is an ideal." Dick said slowly. "Nightwing is an ideal. Red Hood. Red Robin. Batgirl. Robin. Robin. Robin is hope. If you take that away from any of us, we lose, Bruce."
Bruce shook his head. "You don't understand -"
"Of course I understand, B." Dick said. "I've been here longer than anyone right beside you."
"I do protect you." Bruce muttered, eyebrows furrowed. If the Red Hood weren't so angry, he might have pitied the man. "I didn't let any of the boys cursed go out alone. I've kept you all away from what I could, the people I could. I've kept an eye on Damian ever since he - I've tried to keep secret the information that would hurt you -"
"Bruce, that's not protection. There are things we have a right to know." Dick said. "You can't protect us from everything. We need you beside us when we face things."
Bruce shook his head. "No, you don't understand!"
"Then explain it, Bruce!" Dick demanded. "I'm right here! I'm listening. So talk to me!"
But Bruce was shaking his head, lips sealed.
Then the whole cave suddenly felt heavy, dark. It was like it was in a dream, somehow loud even though the cave was drenched in silence.
And it wasn't Dick that was there. It was a boy, a little boy with messy, black hair and the original Robin costume, scaly underoos and all. At first, the Red Hood was certain that he was looking at a little Dick Grayson, but then - then he saw the maskless face and recognized none other than himself. Floored, he took off the helmet, blinking to see if he was hallucinating, but it was his younger self.
The goddess was here.
(Anxiety welled up in him. The child's attention was fixed on Bruce, but Jason couldn't help but fear for Dick.)
(How many times had she already possessed him that day?)
"What're you doing, old man?" little Jason asked, and Jason stared at himself. He didn't remember being so small.
"Jason." Bruce breathed out, voice strangled.
"Stop." little Jason demanded. "I want to talk to Bruce."
Bruce's lips parted. "I am -"
"No!" the little Robin snapped, stomping a pixie boot. "I don't want Batman! I want my dad!"
And Bruce - Bruce started shaking -
(And Jason was so angry, yet something in him ached, and he couldn't think -)
"I . . . I can't. You're gone. You're not -"
"I'm not gone." little Jason said, cocking his head. "I'm right here."
Bruce shook his head. "You're not real. You're gone."
"No, listen to me. I'm right here!" and little Jason was pointing -
Right at him.
Bruce and Jason, the grown up (that sometimes felt too young, too angry, like he was some teenager) were staring at each other.
"See, Bruce?" little Robin, little Jason said in his smug, high voice. "I'm here. Now I'm just waiting for you to come back, too. Batman's fine, but I miss my old man."
A single tear rolled down Bruce's face, eyes wide.
And Jason -
Jason couldn't. He just couldn't. Not then.
(Maybe not ever.)
As the darkness receded, the little version of himself was gone, and Jason found himself staring at Dick. His skin was bloodless, gray, and he took a stumbling step before sinking to his knees. Jason ran to him, barely catching him before he faceplanted forward. Bruce reached towards them (with those same gauntlets that Jason could still remember him hitting Dick with), and Jason snarled at him.
Bruce pulled back, watching as Jason took his brother away.
Jason didn't look back.
Chapter 33: From Father to Son to Son
Summary:
"After that, I need to know if you can come back, if you're strong enough for what comes next."
"Bruce . . . what is this?" Grayson asked, a note of - of uncertainty in his voice.
Damian swallowed. "That's not Bruce."
Chapter Text
When Damian opened his eyes, he was laying on the floor. It was cool to the touch, chilling his cheek, but he couldn't focus on it when he was fully alert and aware of the man standing above him.
However, when he looked up, it wasn't a threat. It wasn't a clown or an assassin or Pyg.
It was Grayson.
"How many times have we done this?" Batman's gravelly voice demanded. Grayson didn't even blink, simply wrapping his hands with sure, steady movements. "How many rules have I given you? Where you fight. How you fight. We've done this so many times. We've had so many rules."
Batman tone was harsh, grating, and entirely unwarranted. Unfair. However, Damian knew better than to say anything.
This was a memory. His breath would be wasted, his words unheard.
(Much like in the waking world. A traitorous voice whispered.)
Damian climbed to his feet, watching quietly as Grayson cradled his mask in his hands.
"We need to do it again. You and me. I need to see if they broke you." Batman continued, and Damian stiffened defensively. "I need to see if you still have the heart you once had."
Grayson put on the mask, face hard as stone.
(And Damian stared up at his mentor and thought What did they do to you?)
(One video. He'd seen one measly video that could have been his mentor's death in minutes, moments, but Nightwing had been captured for far longer than minutes. He was haunted by what he didn't know, what he hadn't asked, and by the look on Grayson's face, Damian wasn't the only one who could feel the weight.)
"So, one more time, Dick. But now there's only one rule . . ."
Damian turned to look at his father, and his breath caught in his throat.
Batman had his hands up, curled into fists. His feet were shoulder-length apart, one in front and one behind in a classic fighting stance. His eyes narrowed. "You have to win."
"You . . ." Damian whispered, staring into the Batman's cowl. "You're the one who . . ."
Batman threw an aggressive, fast kick, and Damian instinctively backed up into the giant T-Rex, hiding in its shadow. Grayson, in a move that seemed aerodynamically impossible, threw himself in the air over the kick and landed in a crouch on the ground as Batman growled "You let the Crime Syndicate capture you. You let them torture you. You let them give your secrets to the world."
"You weren't there." Grayson snapped.
"You let them turn you into a bomb. You let them kill you." Batman let brutal (lethal) force slip into his next kick, and Grayson leapt right over him, legs parting in a perfect split midair before landing behind the Batman. "Before Luthor rescued you, you let everyone watch you die."
The words were laced with genuine anguish, pain that Damian didn't realize his father was fully capable of expressing.
(The kind of expression that Damian had once believed to be weak. Before his Batman had dissuaded him of such an absurd notion.)
He cares. Damian thought.
But he also remembered Grayson explaining all too clearly that love did not beget violence.
It's a complex issue. Damian thought, one hand tightening into a fist. But should it be?
"I was trying to save people." Grayson defended.
"I trained you to live, and I watched you die!" Batman roared, elbowing Grayson in the jaw hard enough for Damian to hear an audible crack.
"Grayson!" Damian gasped out. He rushed to the man's side where he knelt, one hand in front of his face, hiding something. Grayson's eyebrows were furrowed in thought, in confusion as Batman stalked forwards. A shiver of fear went down Damian's spine, and he steeled himself against it.
"After that, I need to know if you can come back, if you're strong enough for what comes next."
"Bruce . . . what is this?" Grayson asked, a note of - of uncertainty in his voice.
Damian swallowed. "That's not Bruce."
Then there was a nasty kick, Grayson's nose spraying blood as he fell backwards off the platform. There was a crash down below, a shattering of glass, the sound of a body impacting something hard. The Robin costume case. "I need to know if you're strong enough to make the sacrifices we will always have to make."
"Grayson!" Damian cried.
His heart pounded in his ears nearly overcoming Batman's words as he stood on the ledge looking down on a man who had shown him more loyalty than anyone else.
(Except maybe Drake.)
(Drake's face, too blank in the face of Batman's fist came into his mind, and fiery anger lit his chest.)
"I have a mission for you, Dick." Batman said as Dick, his back covered in cuts, both large and small and some with glass inside them, shifted onto his front. The remains of Robin was strewn around him, the Robin cape shielding him for a moment before becoming a blanket beneath him as Grayson leaned forward into a warped version of a kneel -
He looked just like he had in the cave when Damian, protected by Robin's safety and surety, thought They will not make me lose him again.
Except this time, there was a man - a man who should have been a father standing where the throne had been.
"I need you to do something that will hurt your friends. Your family." Batman said, leaping from the platform and leaving Damian alone to watch in horror.
"Bruce, what the hell is going on?!"
"Everyone thinks you're dead. I need you to stay dead."
With a wild cry of "No!" Grayson was leaping forwards into a full-bodied kick. Then the cape, the gold of the Flying Graysons, was around Batman's neck.
"Good. Fight." Batman praised. "Fight like a man who can't be captured. Who won't be killed."
Savagely, Grayson used the cape to throw the Batman to the ground. The older man hit the ground with a loud groan, but he didn't let it keep him down. Fighting out of the cape, Batman quickly gained distance and grabbed what was closest to him - a giant die. He threw it hard, and it hit Grayson in the back. He let out a cry as it cracked in half. "Spyral. The espionage group."
"No. I won't do it. I can't stay dead. I can't do it to them!"
Then Batman was launching himself into the air. "They fight the usual evil around the world."
Grayson launched a wingding at the older man, and Damian dropped down as he shouted "But . . . Tim?"
(Tim who used to hide his hurt behind disdain, behind his intellect but was now trying -)
Batman was thrown back onto the T-Rex, and Damian watched as Grayson climbed up and ripped a tooth out of the beast's mouth.
"Terrorists. Murderers. The cowardly and the superstitious." Batman shouted as Grayson flipped onto the head.
"Jason?"
(Jason who had made a sudden shift that even Damian could see, who reeked of loyalty and sharp grins -)
Batman punched him hard, tossing him off the T-Rex as he just kept talking. "A lot of people fight that fight these days."
"Alfred?" Grayson asked through blood even as he was falling.
(Alfred with his knowing eyes who had been there with Grayson and Damian when the penthouse was home -)
"Barbara?"
(The Oracle, the all-knowing, someone who had never treated him like a child -)
Grayson had just stumbled to his feet once more when Batman was there with a harsh hit and harsher words. "Spyral is the best. I know they're the best, because it took me this long to find out what they're doing underneath all of that."
Then Grayson was up and kicking him with just as much unrestrained power.
"I can't!"
Grayson ran to the Batboat, leaping over the waters and landing on its sleek surface. Batman had no hesitation as he leapt after him, and Damian rushed to the waters to watch Batman cry "They're hunting masked heroes."
"They're my family, Bruce." Grayson defended, and frustration built in Damian once more, harsh and bubbling and trying to form the words why won't you listen.
But Batman crushed Grayson to the boat with a boot to the back, the red window shattering like blood-colored, broken promises.
"They want our identities."
"If I'm dead, if they think I'm dead . . ."
The acrobat twisted out from under Batman, deftly dodging another punch.
"Our secrets."
"After Damian?" Grayson asked so quietly that Damian almost missed it as he jumped on a motorcycle. He swallowed, watching as his father ignored even him to kick the bike and Grayson on it so hard that the metal vehicle ripped in half. Damian flinched backwards before running towards the fight once more as if he could do anything.
"Who we hate. Who we love . . ."
"They're my family! My family!"
"They're looking for who we really are, Dick."
And Grayson . . . Grayson was hardly even fighting, running again to higher ground as he said "I can't do it to them . . . I just can't."
Batman landed in front of him, continuing on as if Grayson had never said a word. "Who we have to pretend to be."
They faced off on top of the crane, and Damian . . . Damian suddenly felt sick, because he'd asked to see the moment everything went wrong with this arrogant belief that he could do what he couldn't for his mother - that he could fix things. But instead, he was watching as the one person in the family who truly believed in him, who reached out to him, who kept giving himself over and over and over for the family be beat into submission.
(And he would be beat, because even if Grayson won, he lost.)
(He lost the family's trust.)
(And Batman reaped the benefits.)
"We won't let them do it."
"I'm alive, Bruce."
"You can't let them do it."
"I'm alive!"
Grayson tackled his father off the crane and into the Batmobile even as his father whispered "Good." A wrapped fist pounded the Batman into the broken glass, blood pouring off of both of them.
(Grayson taught Damian what family was.)
(This wasn't it.)
"If they know our secrets, we won't be able to fight."
"How can you ask me to do this, Bruce?"
"Do you know how many people will die if we can't fight?" Batman snarled as he kicked Grayson off of him.
"How can you do this to me?" Grayson gasped out before his head slammed into the floor hard enough for Damian's heart to drop. He rushed to the older man's side where he fell, mind panicking about blood, blood, his brain, that could have -
"We need a man inside. Finding out what Spyral knows. What they want to know. We need you."
Damian shook his head, but Grayson pushed himself up and spat out a chipped piece of tooth in a glob of blood.
"They'll come for you now. They'll want someone like you. Someone off the grid who knows our secrets. If you're not dead, they'll come for you. A masked man without a mask."
Damian shook his head as more blood ran down Grayson's face, his forehead to his chin dripping. He didn't look at Batman as he asked "After everything, how can you put this on me?"
Batman's footsteps were heavy, and fear pounded through Damian as he watched the Batman approach.
"Why do we fall, Dick? We fall so we can learn to get back up." and Damian couldn't fault his words, but Dick's eyes hardened.
"No." Dick said, tearing off the mask to show those blue, blue eyes. Damian shook at the expression of cold anger in them. "No, that's not true. We fall because someone pushes us. We get up to push back."
And Grayson stood, tall and powerful.
Damian stepped back, looking up at him, and he was suddenly reminded of the novels that Todd loved so much. Grayson looked like some kind of warrior, some tragic hero - a force of nature before a man.
This was Damian's Batman.
"Things can't be the same." Grayson stated, blocking a punch for his face.
"I know the other heroes. I know them all." Batman said, and for the first time, there was a hint of something in his voice - Damian might have even considered it regret if he didn't know that Batman had no reason to regret his choice. No reason beyond Grayson himself, and Grayson had returned. "I'd have them do it, but they can't. They'd fight, but eventually they'd give up, they'd give in. And Spyral would use them to get the rest of us."
Batman drove forward, and Grayson blocked it once more. "After this, Bruce, after asking this, between us -- It can't be the same again."
"I know. I'm hurting you. My family. I'm making that sacrifice. Because I don't give up. I don't give in. But what about you? Are you them? Or are you me?" He managed to get in an awful swing to Grayson's face, and Damian bristled.
"That's not your sacrifice!"
But Batman kept going, because Damian wasn't here.
Damian had been dead.
"After the Crime Syndicate captured you, tortured you, killed you -- tell me, Dick, my boy, after all of this -- will you give up? Will you give in?"
And Grayson swung back. Hard. His eyes were wild, the blood down his face making him look like an avenging demon.
"I'm not your boy."
Batman hit the ground, and then he stayed there, heaving. Shaking hands reached up and pulled off the cowl.
Damian wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't swollen skin and wet eyes. Bruce's nose was red, and Damian had the sudden, horrific realization that Bruce - Bruce was heartbroken.
Because he would give in. Because he couldn't go to Spyral. Because he would fall.
It had to be Grayson.
"No . . ." Grayson said, his father's blood dripping off of his wrappings. Then he walked to Bruce and knelt down beside the man. ". . . It's never enough. One rule. I win."
And he sunk down against the wall. Bruce slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling Grayson into him in a show of rare affection that . . . that Damian couldn't understand.
"Good." Bruce whispered.
Damian turned around, staring at the wreckage of the cave, at smeared blood, at the broken Robin case, and -
He sunk to his knees. "No. No, this isn't - No!"
He slammed his fists into the ground, fury raging through his chest, and he let out a wordless yell. For seconds that turned into minutes, he slammed his fists over and over again against the ground until his chest was tight, and his head was fuzzy. Before the darkness took him away, he took a breath and whispered "I will handle this. I vow to do so. I will fix this."
Chapter 34: For Every Word Unspoken
Summary:
Tim's eyes flew open.
He'd asked Dick to return to Bruce after he'd hit him, and when he refused, Tim became Robin. Then when Tim was there, Dick had stepped up and kept distance between Bruce and Tim when Bruce had been at his worst -
"Did I . . ."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tim threw his Red Robin gear in the corner, too disgusted to even look at it. Pulling on his pajamas exhausted him completely in a way that the fight downstairs probably should have. He collapsed on the covers and stared up at the ceiling, unseeing.
Bruce had punched Dick twice that Tim knew for sure. The first time, he was mad with grief. He simply wasn't himself, so it wasn't fair to treat the hit as though it were premeditated or calculated or - However, that didn't make it right. It was a point against him, but Tim couldn't find it in himself to count it as abuse.
But it could count as a propensity to lash out, to use violence.
A warning sign.
(He tried not to think about the moments he'd walked into the cave and watched Bruce just stare blankly at the Robin uniform that had been completely destroyed - damaged to the point of Tim feeling grateful that the older Robin had been put out of his misery. It wasn't a mercy killing. It was sick. It was degenerate. It was horrific.)
(It was the Joker.)
The second hit that Tim knew about was in the cave again. Bruce had backhanded Dick and outright admitted that he was hiding information from Dick. However, it came down to one thing.
The tooth.
Tim hadn't looked at the Court of Owls files, hadn't seen what the tooth was. He didn't know if it was a glorified piece of evidence, a tracker, or something more nefarious. Could it have killed Dick? Could it have somehow done something worse?
If it had to be removed immediately, then Tim could understand to an extent, but it couldn't be excused. Not when the tooth could have been extracted with numbing agent and proper procedure -
(Would Dick have even agreed to a procedure? Was it worse to hit him or force him into a surgery that he didn't want -)
Tim ripped at his hair, shutting his eyes.
He had to count it as abuse. He had to.
(Even if he could feel himself wavering at memories of Bruce laying a proud hand on his shoulder at a gala, at Batman's silent fury as he went after the henchmen who dared go after his Robin, at Batman's shadow falling -)
(He thought about Batman separating him from Damian, about the fear -)
Tim paused.
Batman had been prepared to hit him.
Batman was going to hit him.
Did that count as abuse?
His hand tightened in his hair to the point of stinging pain, and he couldn't breathe. He let out a choked breath, squeezing his eyes even tighter. Purple and red spots danced behind his eyelids, and he forced himself to count the pounding in his head until his breaths became more natural.
Tim had captured Batman. Had given him an electric shock. He had then turned Robin, Batman's Robin, against him. He had gotten his own son to betray him.
Did that make it self-defense?
He thought about Batman's angry (fearful) stare, his hissed Who are you, his panic when he'd called for Robin -
"Did I . . ." Tim whispered to the empty room.
But then his mind went back to Dick, Dick who had been there when Tim became Robin and who hadn't come back to be Bruce's Robin. Who had a bruise on his jaw when he had answered the door to his apartment. Tim's eyes flew open.
He'd asked Dick to return to Bruce after he'd hit him, and when he refused, Tim became Robin. Then when Tim was there, Dick had stepped up and kept distance between Bruce and Tim when Bruce had been at his worst -
"Did I . . ."
And before the goddess, Tim had been so angry, but it had been so clear. The dance that Dick and Bruce moved to, the distance Dick kept except when one of them were close to Bruce, the way that Dick would intervene in a good plan to adjust it so that Bruce wasn't with one of them alone -
"Did we . . ."
His cell began to ring, shrill and far too loud. Tim's eyes snapped open, and he flinched at the time blinking in the corner. It was barely morning, barely a new workday for Wayne Enterprises, but he picked up the phone regardless.
"Mr. Drake!" exclaimed his assistant. "I'm so sorry to call you this early -"
"It's okay." Tim breathed out, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"
"The - The investors want to cancel the meeting."
Tim frowned. "What?"
"They - They said that being rescheduled so many times is a sign that they aren't wanted, and they never should have agreed to another meeting -"
Tim clenched his teeth, the taste of bile in his mouth and the feeling of rain running down his neck -
No. Tim thought. Stop it.
"I've managed to convince them that you had a family emergency to handle, so you may be able to talk them into coming back, but they - they weren't happy that I was the one they were talking to instead of you -"
"Right." Tim said. "Right. Where are they right now?"
"I got them a luxury stay at one of our hotels." she said. "A full spa day. I completely booked them. They should only have enough time to eat and sleep. Hopefully, it keeps them distracted for today, but tomorrow is a different matter. I thought you'd want to know."
Tim breathed out slowly. "Okay. Okay, thank you."
"Also, there are several emails from Wayne Tech saying that you haven't approved the next steps in several of their projects, yet. Wayne Medical wants some of the Wayne Tech people to be transferred to them for work on experimental scanners, but the people Wayne Tech wanted to send aren't suitable. They need someone to mediate that situation. Also, your publicist wants to announce the next steps Wayne Medical is taking in the fight against cancer since there's going to be a march for breast cancer survivors in two weeks -"
And on and on it went until threads of light were peeking through his window, and Tim was too tired to even breathe.
Hanging up was a blessing, but despite the anxiety, he could only think about the sound of a backhand -
There was a muffled voice outside the door, and Tim groaned. Before he could tell Damian to leave him alone, the door was swinging open and -
Damian dropped Alfred the cat in his arms.
Tim blinked.
The cat blinked.
Tim blinked again. "What -"
"According to my research, dogs and cats specifically are known to reduce stress and other symptoms of PTSD in abuse victims." Damian said in the snottiest voice as he opened the closet door and snatched the empty duffle bag there, giving it a disdainful look. "Since you insist on having such an antagonistic relationship with Titus, I deemed Alfred better suited for the job."
Tim's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing? Wait, did you just call me a -"
"Why don't you already have a duffle bag prepacked?" Damian demanded, stuffing random shirts and pants into the bag. "Honestly, Drake."
There was a snuffle from the door, and Tim's eyes darted to where Titus was sitting, facing the hallway.
I've finally snapped. Tim thought.
"Okay, what's going on?"
"I am moving you somewhere safe." Damian stated.
"What?" Tim said, and Damian huffed at him.
As Damian began ransacking his drawers, he said "It is not difficult to understand. Batman has shown an unacceptable pattern of behavior towards you and - You were the latest person he showed aggression towards and the most vulnerable. Therefore, you need to be moved somewhere safe."
"Damian, I'm not - Hey! Get out of my underwear drawer." Tim snapped, dropping Alfred the cat.
Damian made a tt noise. "You would rather be without clean undergarments?"
"I'd rather you leave me alone!"
Alfred the cat gave Tim a look with those yellow, yellow eyes and laid down on the bed. Damian paused for a moment before turning to him. "You are coming with me."
Tim bristled. "No, I'm not."
"I don't wish to fight you, Drake." Damian stated. "But I will drag you out if I have to."
Tim stood. "You can try."
Then there was a clearing of the throat. Both Robins turned to stare at the doorway where Alfred stood, one eyebrow raised. "And what exactly is going on here?"
Dick groaned. His head was pounding the beat to any and possibly every popular pop song. Nausea churned in his stomach, and he swallowed thickly. He managed to open one eye before shutting it tightly once more. He wriggled his toes and then his fingers, wincing when he felt an IV in his hand.
"I see you're awake."
Jason.
Dick let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Five more minutes."
There was a snort. "Alright. Go back to sleep, douchebag."
Dick laid there for a second. Then he gave a long, put-upon sigh and sat up. He winced at the low light. "Still in the cave?"
"Uh-huh."
"B?"
Jason frowned. "Where do you think?"
Dick looked over. He could barely see the man, but he was exactly where Dick would have expected - sitting at the Batcomputer.
"Dick."
"Yeah?"
"I meant Batman." Jason replied.
Dick snorted. "He can't hear you over here."
"So?"
Dick started to pull out the IV, and Jason grabbed his hand. "Give it a bit longer."
"What? You worried?"
Jason just stared at him. Dick's smile fell.
"I don't know if you know this, Goldie, but your skin is literally gray." Jason said.
Dick tensed, mind flashing to a corpse with dark, dark veins. However, he swallowed. "I guess I can stay a few more minutes."
However, his skin was crawling, and he didn't want to be in the cave.
Not with B there.
(And God, Jason's skin looked just as clammy, and he wasn't being drained of energy by some immortal deity with a god complex -)
(Stupid. She's a literal goddess. Dick hissed at himself.)
A distraction. They both needed a distraction.
"You ever hear about how Batman got that giant penny?" Dick asked.
Jason stared at him blankly for a moment before he said. "Never thought to ask. Let me guess. Two-Face?"
Dick grinned. "Nope. Guy named the Penny Plunderer."
"You're joking."
Dick leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath. "No, really. That was his name."
"The Penny Plunderer?"
"Mmm-hmmm."
"Alright, fine. How'd Batman get a porn star's penny?"
Dick snorted. "He wasn't a porn star, and don't say it like that."
"His name is plunderer."
"Do you want to hear the story or not?"
Jason rolled his eyes. "Go on ahead. How did Batman plow the plunderer?"
Dick wrinkled his nose, suppressing a small smile and started to speak. As he told the story, he couldn't help his eyes drifting past Jason to the Batcomputer. To Batman. His cowl was down, and he looked . . . sad. Distant.
Like Bruce.
Dick turned his gaze away and focused once more on Jason.
He knew he should get up and face the day (face Batman - face Bruce) but . . .
He didn't want to. He just wanted a break.
Just for a little while longer.
Notes:
The section at the end was supposed to be very different, so my apologies if it's weird. What I was going for just felt wrong, so maybe you'll see that conversation later. This was a harder chapter to write than I expected, so I guess my plans have to be rearranged.
In the meantime, thank you for reading and all the comments. I'm still behind on responding, but please know that I really appreciate it. <3
Chapter 35: No One Else can Take Your Place
Summary:
Before Tim could begin to argue again, Alfred said "Master Damian, do you consider me a perpetrator?"
Tim lost his voice.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Damian threw a tight scowl at Titus, his pompous tone ringing loud and clear as he said "I expected better work from you."
Tim stared. "Better work?"
"As a guard dog. Keep up, Drake." Damian hissed.
I really have gone insane. Tim thought before speaking. "If you wanted Titus to act as a guard dog, you should have trained him."
"That is empirically false which you would know if you had any understanding of dogs." Damain sent him a disdainful look, eyes trailing to Alfred the cat in an almost haughty look. "A dog that you have built a relationship with will protect you and your territory regardless of training. Training is typically only necessary for specialized skills and jobs like bomb sniffing or -"
"Then why didn't you train Titus like that if you wanted -"
"None of this explains why Titus would need to guard Master Timothy's door." Alfred the human cut through the argument, and Titus wagged his tail, paws shifting on the hard wood in his excitement.
In the ensuing silence, Tim turned his eyes to Damian, because . . .
Well, he'd like an exact answer as well.
(His mind flashed to Dick's bloody tooth laying on the cave floor, to Batman's shadow falling over him, to the genuine fear in Damian's voice -)
Damian's lips tightened, but he looked the butler in the eye when he spoke. "Richard taught me much while I was his Robin. In cases of domestic violence and other forms of abuse, I was first to move the victims without the perpetrators' knowledge. Titus was to help me in this task."
Before Tim could begin to argue again, Alfred said "Master Damian, do you consider me a perpetrator?"
Tim lost his voice.
Alfred looked . . . He looked wrong. Despite his age, there was something about the butler that was so timeless that the idea that he was even mortal felt wrong. He was almost a deity unto himself - the only person that could truly make the Batman kneel. But now, his eyes were drawn tightly, stress lines fractured into his face like a stone carving. He looked brittle.
He looked old.
"No." Damian said, voice wavering for just a moment before it hardened once more. "I consider you an enabler."
Tim sucked in a sharp breath. "Damian . . ."
But he couldn't find the words, especially not as those blue, blue eyes hardened in resolve. Damian lifted his chin stubbornly. "I made a vow to the goddess that I would fix what has been broken here - here in your household. I respect you, Pennyworth, but the goddess - She showed me the moment this family broke apart. The moment that Bruce beat Richard until he agreed to stay dead."
Tim jerked back, because -
Because -
What?
Tim's mind was always spinning, working, planning, fixing, but all of a sudden, there was nothing. No thoughts. No words. Just blood and rain and -
A picture of a little boy standing by his parents, holding a child full of whimsy and excitement to watch the show of a lifetime. A show that would seal them together in a fate of blood, of fear, of flips and fantastical moments and days of deep sorrow and betrayal that ran like a river, cutting through every high and ounce of trust -
But there was no betrayal, was there?
(Yes, there was. That dreaded voice in his mind whispered. You just blamed the wrong person.)
Damian clenched his fists, mouth still spewing like a volcano destroying all it touched. "Richard didn't want to go! He didn't want to stay dead. While he ran from Fath - from Bruce, he kept on talking, asking about the people he loved. What about Tim? What about Jason and you and Barbara . . . He was so worried about staying and being here for everyone even while Bruce chased him down and hurt him that it made me think. What about you, Pennyworth? Every time that Grayson is the one to stand up for us, to handle Bruce, to do what needs to be done, where are you?"
"That's not fair!" Tim burst out, finally climbing out of the bed to stand between the aged butler and Damian. "Alfred isn't to blame for -"
"I am not assigning blame. I am asking questions - pertinent questions." Damian dismissed. "Think, Drake. Where was Pennyworth when Richard was fired from Robin? Where was Pennyworth when Jason was given Robin? Where was Pennyworth when - when Bruce punched Dick and told him to return his keys to the manor? Where was Pennyworth when Robin was taken from you and given to me? Ah, wait. I remember that one. He was the one handing over Robin!"
Despite himself, Tim flinched. He swallowed and shook his head. "We can't blame Alfred for what Bruce has done. The last one isn't even Bruce. I - We - We can't -"
"Master Timothy." Alfred said gravely. "It is quite alright. Master Damian is correct."
Tim turned wide eyes on the older man, and a sting of undeserved shame ran up his spine at the wet shine in the normally reserved man's eyes. "Alfred?"
"I had never planned to remain in the Wayne household so long." Alfred said, and Tim jolted in surprise. The idea of Alfred not there . . . It was impossible to imagine. He was as integral to the manor as the walls, the foundations, the tall, rickety gate. Without Alfred, it wasn't the Wayne manor at all. Yet, the man still went on. "I had many an application out for other employment when the call came, and Bruce became my charge. Master Richard, of course, told me that it is not fair to judge my parenting by the man that Bruce is today. He believed that my circumstances were enough to excuse me. However, that is not the world we live in. Apparently, we live in a world where the child I raised physically beat his first son to another form of death. And that - that is something I will never forgive myself for."
Tim stared, mind caught on the horrid mental image of - of what Damian could have seen. It wasn't hard to imagine. He'd seen Batman in action, could hear the sounds of Nightwing being hit in a fight, (could still see Batman punching Nightwing for a stupid tooth), and -
It was too much.
Tim powered forwards past Alfred's stiff, resigned form, Titus's inappropriate excitement and lack of understanding, away from Damian's grating voice as he called "Drake?"
In the cave, he had called him Tim.
And that was another moment Tim didn't want to think about, couldn't think about. He swallowed tightly, shaking his head as he heard Damian hurrying after him.
(But Tim could hear each footstep and the tapity-tapity of Titus's paws on wood. That in itself was even part of their training for abuse victims. It was not to startle them further, to allow them control and full understanding of the situation, to ensure they didn't accidentally disregard boundaries, didn't get too close and trigger a panic response -)
(And Alfred - Tim couldn't hear his footsteps at all. Alfred hadn't moved, hadn't come running after him.)
(Why was handling this up to them? Why was it up to Dick and Jason and Damian and - and them when Alfred and Bruce had been the adults from the beginning -)
"Leave me alone!" Tim snapped behind him, hurrying out into the front room and freezing.
"Drake! Return right this instant -" And then Damian was sliding into the room, mouth clamping shut as he saw what Tim saw.
Starfire - Kory was sitting primly on the couch, red hair spilling around her as she sipped gingerly from a teacup. Her bright eyes caught on them, and she lowered the cup to give a bright smile, though it was tempered with some emotion that Tim was too frazzled to try to identify. "Hello."
Notes:
Sorry if this one is a little short. I didn't feel right adding anything else to this chapter just in case it detracted from this scene.
We're in the endgame now for this story. It still has a lot to go, but you may notice the updates going a little slower. That's mainly because I'm being careful to finish the chapters and storylines the right way. I promise I won't be sacrificing quality for speed. This story deals with too many real-world issues for me to speed through, and I hope that it's still worth it for you all.
But once again, I'm very grateful for all your comments, kudos, and the attention you've given this story. I truly, genuinely thank you. My inbox is always full, though, so it could take me even more months to finish replying to everyone. In the meantime, please take this as a thank you.
<3
Chapter 36: I'm Lost
Summary:
Something in Batman had broken.
(Something in Bruce that kept Batman alive had broken.)
Chapter Text
"I feel fine." Dick said. "Really."
Jason scowled, but he didn't say anything as Dick pulled out the needle and began to sterilize the medical equipment. Dick turned away and pretended he couldn't see his brother's obvious displeasure.
Dick was fine.
He only had a light headache and a bit of nausea left, and that was easy to ignore.
"Then hurry up, dickface. Breakfast isn't an all-day affair." Jason snipped.
Dick glanced over his shoulder. "It should be."
"It absolutely should not be." Jason said, affront in his voice. "Breakfast should be in the morning. Breakfast is for the break of day and should be fast to make. It's in the word. Break-fast."
Dick rolled his eyes. "You made that up."
Jason sniffed. "You have an unrefined palate."
"My palate is very refined, thank you very much!"
"Crocky Crunch and granola bars don't indicate any kind of refinement, Goldie." Jason scowled. "You just can't cook."
Dick smiled fondly and a little sadly at the saline bag. He knew that Jason didn't care when anyone ate breakfast foods. Dick could remember Jason as a kid eating waffles at midnight, syrup somehow in his hair while his young face screwed up in a scowl that was a cute precursor to the man he'd become. It was a fond snapshot of a moment that stuck in his mind more than the words they'd said or the memory it belonged to.
Jason just wanted him out of the cave.
(And Dick was tired - tired at looking at replacement cases that hadn't left broken glass scars across his back, tired of wondering how Bruce had scrubbed all the blood away without anyone knowing or seeing, tired of asking himself why he'd let the man push him into betraying his siblings, tired of trying to figure out if Bruce's method was the only way that would have worked or if Dick should have taken a different route -)
"Hey! Are you even listening?" Jason interrupted his thoughts, and Dick blinked.
"Nope. I was too distracted by the thought of French Toast." Dick took a breath and turned around, a hint of manic energy buzzing beneath his skin. "Let's go."
Jason eyed him for a second before muttering "Are you a child?"
However, the two of them were off to the Manor, passing by Batman's stiff form without a word.
Then Dick froze.
Jason nearly ran into him. "Hey, what's -"
"Shh." Dick said, and then the noise came again.
Jason's eyes widened.
The two moved down the hallway, breakfast forgotten, to the front room where a voice, smooth as honey yet slipping between joyous excitement and a low, almost somber tone that built up anticipation, told a tale.
"We were all but defeated. My body had been exhausted, all reserves of power practically emptied. I admit that I nearly lost hope." Kory's eyes glittered, looking at the two Robins sitting opposite her with a fondness that was just a little too clear. Dick had to swallow past a thick lump in his throat. "Nearly. Because it was then that a figure swung through the air - Robin! With a kick and a flip, he turned the tides of the battle, and he gave us all the courage to get up again."
Dick let out a soft noise, leaning against the wall. "That isn't how I remember it."
"Then perhaps your memory has faded." Kory challenged, just a little hesitation in her voice.
"Grayson." Damian said, the word not quite coming out as an adequate greeting.
Dick frowned at the two Robins, watching the way Tim's eyes didn't once look at him, Jason, or Damian. Terse worry tightened his chest.
"Yeah, great to see you and all, Kory, but what are you doing here?" Jason demanded.
She dusted off her legs, standing to look him in the eye. "I was invited."
"Invited?" Jason repeated.
Dick blinked. "Right. I forgot. You weren't there when we decided to meet up."
The look on Jason's face was mutinous. However, before he could speak, Dick's phone buzzed. He pulled it out with a frown -
Then he stiffened. "I'm sorry. We'll have to cut this short -"
Jason snatched Dick's phone, ignoring his older brother's sharp hiss. His eyes went wide.
"What's going on?" Tim asked.
Neither replied, and Damian rose to his feet. "I demand to know what's happening."
Jason tossed the phone, not caring who caught it as he turned on Dick. "Whose number is that, Dick?"
On the screen, obvious to all three of the others read an address. Then there was a picture of a man with thick glasses and a dirty, long coat tied to a construction beam. Beneath it, it read Don't be late, kid.
Tim's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Dick -"
"We don't have time for this." Dick spun on his heel, heading straight for the cave.
"We should know who we are facing." Damian argued as he flipped past Jason to fall at Dick's side.
"You're not going." Dick said immediately.
As Tim hurried to catch up, Jason shared a look with Kory, and he didn't like the look in her eye. She shook her head and strutted past him to follow the other three, and Jason silently brought up the rear.
However, the rest were not so quiet.
"He's too dangerous." Dick argued.
"He has Gordon!" Damian argued. "If you are handling this unnamed threat, then someone should be there to free and protect the hostage -"
"Gordon will be fine." Dick snarled, heading to change. "But I can't promise you all will be -"
"We're going." Jason stated simply, and Dick paused. He turned with a tight frown, stress carving a line between his brows. He looked at all of them - Tim and Damian staring holes into him, Jason's firm stance, Kory's challenging eyes. He was going to argue, try to force them to stay where they were safe and couldn't get near -
But then his gaze drifted past them to Batman's still form.
Even hearing that Commissioner Gordon had been taken hostage hadn't moved him from his place, and Dick closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his finger. When he looked up, the group stared at him expectantly.
(I don't want to be Batman. Dick had thought many times. Now was his chance to do things a different way.)
"Okay. Okay, you can come." Dick said. "But you need to listen to me. I'm not losing any of you."
Bruce should have gotten up. He should have handled whatever situation was happening, demanded to know who had captured Jim, set aside everything to save the day -
But that would require Batman, and something -
Something in Batman had broken.
(Something in Bruce that kept Batman alive had broken.)
Bruce knew Dick could handle it, but he didn't think he as Batman could - not right now. Not when his mind was whirling around his little Jaylad pointing with a little, gloved hand towards -
Towards Jason.
In a world of supermen and Amazonian warriors and magic, it was easy for people to forget that the world hadn't always been full of miracles. There were some who wouldn't ever know what it was like to live in a world where death was permanent and broken people couldn't be saved. Bruce envied them the way he as a child had envied his schoolmates with living mothers and fathers.
Because he'd been so small when his parents' blood had begun to dry in Crime Alley.
Because he'd been too young when he took in Dick and risked turning him into Bruce. He'd been too young - so young when he let a child be hit with Joker gas, with Fear Toxin that they didn't have an antidote to. When he let a child flip and play in the midst of knifes and bullets. When the child had turned Gotham's bloody streets into his own playground. He'd been too stupid to find a good reason to take Dick off the street when it mattered, when it would have stuck.
Instead, Dick had been shot, and Bruce had thought of clutching his mother's skirt, tucked behind her like a shield -
He hadn't been Dick's shield.
So he did it. He did it too late. He took Robin, and he prayed - prayed that Dick's anger would make him turn his back on the hero world entirely.
But then Dick had flitted off to the Titans, and he'd been totally fine. Perfectly fine.
Without Bruce.
And Bruce had thought Maybe I was wrong to get rid of Robin.
Robin had given people hope in a way that Batman couldn't. Robin had become a symbol that was the opposite of fear, an inspiration that no matter how small, anyone could make a difference. And then there was a little boy at the Batmobile, and then he was Bruce's son -
But Bruce wasn't enough.
Jason had needed more.
He needed Robin.
(And because of Bruce's failures, he didn't have Robin there beside him. Robin was far away, taking on a new identity when his new identity could have been big brother, and Bruce could see Dick trying despite being so angry and split between opposite sides of the country, and -)
The world hadn't always been full of miracles.
Jason had been dead.
And what returned was so different from his righteous bookworm with an attitude that his faith in miracles had fallen.
Had died.
Batman had to make miracles happen no matter the cost.
(The cost had been Bruce's peace of mind, his body, his kids -)
(Dick. Dick who had collapsed beside him in the ruins of the cave against his side like a warm weight. Who he'd raised to be different from Bruce and had somehow wound up with someone better -)
"Master Bruce."
Bruce looked over. In his hand was a silver tray, and his stomach rolled in a way that made him swallow. "Thank you, Alfred, but I'm not hungry."
"I expected that to be the case." Alfred said. "I did not bring food."
Bruce frowned, and Alfred offered him the tray.
There was a book. It immediately made Bruce cringe, bright green and red smeared across the cover in a grotesque design, a child's silhouette right in the middle of big smile. At the top was the title.
How to Avoid Raising the Next Joker.
"During the invasion, I went shopping." Alfred began. "While I was gathering the necessities, a book appeared in my cart - this book. I returned it to a shelf, but when I turned around, it was back in my cart. I must have removed it a minimum of ten times, yet it was there when I went through the line. You might even say its appearance was godly intent."
Bruce looked up, tense. "Is that so?"
"Of course, I read it." Alfred continued. "However, I am afraid it was mistitled. It should have been titled 'How to Avoid Raising the Next Batman.' I wish I had such a book when you were young, Master Bruce. Perhaps you would have been happy."
"Alfred . . ."
"Master Bruce." Afred returned. His eyes were sad and entirely too old as he turned away, his face dry.
Bruce watched him walk away, walk out of the darkness of the cave.
Then he opened the book.
Chapter 37: It's a Long, Long Road
Summary:
"Nightwing." Deathstroke greeted coolly. "I see you brought guests."
Chapter Text
Red Robin gritted his teeth, anxiety rolling through his stomach before it found a resting place in his chest behind his lungs.
He didn't like the plan. That wasn't to say it wasn't smart, because it was. Nightwing was as much a strategist as any of them, and it was obvious he was used to leading teams just as much as he could take the lead in a duo.
Red Robin still didn't like it.
More specifically, he didn't like where he fell in the plan.
Because as Nightwing, Red Hood, and Starfire landed loudly and obviously on the metal landing across from where Deathstroke the Terminator stood, Commissioner Gordon tied tightly to a beam, Red Robin and Robin were positioned silently, waiting for an opportunity to snatch the bloodied man from under Deathstroke's thumb. It was clever, keeping Deathstroke's knowledge of their presence limited or at least out of his direct eyeline.
(But it also meant that Red Robin, possibly the only one who had seen the godforsaken fondness in Dick's distant eyes when he talked about Deathstroke and betrayal, might be the only one who knew how badly this could go, and he was too far away to do anything if Nightwing needed him.)
Robin shot him a sharp glance, and Red Robin slowly breathed out a silent breath.
"Nightwing." Deathstroke greeted coolly. "I see you brought guests."
"Oh, you wanted me alone?" Nightwing asked, faux surprise in his voice. "I didn't see anything about that in the invitation."
"You and I both know what I meant." the mercenary stated, but Red Robin thought he heard a hint of amusement? Frustration? There was something in his voice that was too oily smooth for anyone who hadn't fought him for years to catch. He continued on as Red Robin's hands tightened into fists. "I'd prefer to speak to you alone."
Red Hood scoffed loudly enough that Robin twitched.
"Anything you can say to me you can say in front of my friends." Nightwing grinned.
Don't bait him. Red Robin thought desperately, but there was nothing he could do.
(Well, there was, but that meant disregarding the plan - Nightwing's plan, and Red Robin . . . He couldn't do it.)
(He wouldn't do it.)
"Fine. I'll cut to the chaise." Deathstroke replied, walking to the other side of Commissioner Gordon. The man tensed, but Red Robin couldn't see anything else. "See, I saw a certain video."
"Oh, that's embarrassing." Nightwing taunted, taking a single step closer as Starfire shifted into more of a fighting stance behind him, implicit threat in her face. "Can't we pretend you didn't see it? As a favor for an old friend? Nothing has to change between us."
Robin sent Red Robin a confused look, but Red Robin's eyes focused on the sharp look Red Hood sent Starfire, irritation obvious in the small movement.
"I could ignore it." Deathstroke replied, one hand resting on a gun. All the heroes went still, watching the man too carefully. "I could ignore every hit on your head, every rich conglomerate ready to pay for Nightwing to be delivered to them, every offer against you, but that would be a lot of money to turn down. After all, everyone has seen the video, Grayson. Everyone has heard you speak in the voice of someone they love and announce that you are here. People are willing to pay good money for such a valuable prize. It would be unwise of me to ignore something like that . . . unless I had a good enough incentive."
Nightwing scowled. "What do you want, Slade?"
"I want to talk to my sons."
A quiet breeze brushed along Red Robin's hair, fluttering through the building, and flowing far away from the tension it barely touched. Even so, it was the loudest thing in the area. Red Robin's eyes were drawn past Nightwing's oddly blank face to the obvious way that Red Hood began to bristle.
"You have a daughter." Nightwing said simply.
"My. Sons." Deathstroke insisted, hand tightening on the gun.
His sons. Grant Wilson - Ravager. Enhanced by H.I.V.E. and fought with the Titans before Red Robin's time. Dead. Joseph Wilson - Jericho. Titan member with the ability to possess bodies. Alternated between friend and foe. Status unknown - likely dead, but never truly gone. Also before Red Robin's time.
Nightwing's time based on the tightness of his lips and the exhaustion already creeping into his shoulders.
"Talk to Rose." Nightwing insisted, something tight in his voice. At the harsh note, Robin shifted almost unconsciously into more of an offensive stance, but Red Robin couldn't focus on him.
Not when Deathstroke was drawing the gun and pointing it backwards -
Towards Commissioner Gordon.
Red Hood had his gun in hand and ready in a second.
"I am not addressing you, Grayson. You've made your stance perfectly clear. On many accounts." Deathstroke's voice was oily, harsh words a smear of poison on Red Robin's mind. "I'm addressing the being who said I am here. Well, now I'm here, and I will speak to my sons!"
Suddenly, there was a light, bright and blue. The Nightwing symbol splattered across his brother's chest glowed, and for a split second, Red Robin thought he saw a glimpse of reddish-brown hair, but it was gone before the sight fully registered. The air was heavy, and even from a distance, Red Robin felt his chest fight to draw in air (though it was a far less frightful experience than when the oxygen had swiftly been stolen from him in the cave.)
(Of course, now he wasn't the intended target.)
Nightwing didn't move his lips, but a voice echoed through the space that sometimes resounded as Nightwing's voice but sometimes sounded like Red Robin's own mother, like Stephanie before Gotham had stollen the quiet comfort of their friendship, like Kon when he'd looked at him like a person instead of -
No.
The gun tumbled out of Deathstroke's hand with a loud, metalic clatter. He dropped to one knee before forcing himself back to his feet, muscles straining with every little moment. "I will not -"
Nightwing's hand flew out, fingers outstretched, and Deathstroke was forced to all fours.
I WILL BE HEARD.
Red Robin flinched, animalistic fear running down his spine, but he gritted his death and stayed still. His eyes flickered to the side, a part of him needing to assure that the younger Robin was not only there but well, and the younger boy looked shocked beyond reason.
However, he wasn't looking at Nightwing.
I hear the cries of the desperate. I hear the pleas of the hurt. I hear every secret wish and mourning scream, and your name has been on the tongue of widowhood and broken childhood, the annihilation of love that will never be. The goddess's voice rippled about them, chillingly calm. Down below and all around them, were figures - soft and wispy - that faded in and out of reality. They were the ghosts of moments, of mothers wrapping their children in hugs, of sobbing teenagers, of dying fathers, of children covered in blood, in brides laughing with joy, and men holding their new infants for the very first time. And all around them, were echoes of lost voices, of curses and fear and names - names for the man that knelt before them. Slade Wilson. Deathstroke the Terminator. Monster. Murderer. Terrorist.
Then the ghosts were gone in a wind like a shock blast, and only two wisps remained standing on either side of Nightwing's frightening form. One was an older woman with waving hair that had a red hue even colorless as she was. The other was a sleek figure with an eyepatch herself, familiar enough to Red Robin to make him catch his breath.
You have many names. Now, I give you one more.
Deathstroke cried out and collapsed further in on himself on the ground before he cut the sound off, too proud to even cry out in pain. His panting breaths were loud, painful to the ear. When blessed silence finally fell, Red Robin's eyes fell on Deathstroke once more, and immediate twisting anxiety churned his stomach. His eyes quickly flitted to Nightwing as his hand fell back to his side.
Then to Commissioner Gordon. He nodded at Robin.
"Please." Deathstroke nearly whispered, voice nearly too quiet for Red Robin to hear.
However, the goddess's voice was cold as ice.
You will never speak to your sons again.
The glow fell away, and Nightwing stumbled, sinking blearily to his knees.
Deathstroke let out a horrific roar, grabbing his gun and launching to his feet. He nearly went into a rush at the downed man -
Only for an arrow to strike the ground at his feet.
There on a rooftop just a swing away stood Arsenal, bow already notched with another arrow. Deathstroke stilled, and then in one smooth motion, he spun and pointed his gun at the metal beam where Commissioner Gordon was tied.
Was tied.
Now, there was nothing there at all.
Red Robin held perfectly still, his hold on the Commissioner tight in their small cover of bricks, and he watched Robin carefully eye the scene from a better vantage point but with just as much rapt attention as Red Robin had. A stray brick pressed painfully into the small of his back, but he didn't dare move. Only his eyes shifted as he continued to watch the scene albeit with the warmth of an exhausted, bloody Commissioner at his side.
Deathstroke eyed Nightwing with more disdain than he had the entire conversation. It was so clear that Red Robin could feel it, could practically taste it, and he wondered just how much worse it would be if the monster of a man wasn't wearing a mask. "More friends of yours."
Nightwing's voice was breathy, but he still spoke as he stood. "It's a real party."
"They won't be around forever." Deathstroke said simply. "And when that day comes, I will have your head."
Starfire looked nearly ready for murder, eyes harsh and gleaming. However, Nightwing held up a hand as Deathstroke turned his back on them and walked away. Red Robin held his breath, one hand tightly clamped around the Commissioner's mouth as the terminator stalked past their hiding spot. Though Deathstroke didn't do anything, Red Robin got the creeping, awful feeling that he was being watched.
His stomach churned again.
After he was gone, Red Robin breathed out a shaky breath. There was a muffled noise, and Red Robin let go of the Commissioner's face. "Sorry."
Commissioner Gordon gave him the same look he'd given him since he was a kid sneaking into his office to read his reports (and even though Gordon couldn't prove it was Robin, he definitely knew). However, he didn't manage to speak before both of their gazes were drawn to the other heroes as a bolt of light was flung towards the roof Arsenal stood on.
Then there was a blur of red hair and a battle cry, and Red Robin thought of catastrophe, war, death -
(Why do things keep getting worse? Why can't they get better? Tim, not Red Robin, whispered deep in his mind behind the mask.)
(However, the solemn, broken whisper was rewarded with a weight, a weight on his shoulder that he would deny was there if anyone asked. It felt small like a guiding hand, and it felt big like a circus tent and the Gotham skyline, and it felt soft like cotton candy and the cat that Damian had shoved into his arms, and it felt safe.)
(Safe like a mother.)
(Like a brother.)
Chapter 38: Her Green Eyes Blew Goodbyes
Summary:
"I have to help."
"I'd argue that you have to take a nap. Or at least eat something. We didn't even get to have breakfast." Hood complained.
Chapter Text
Nightwing gave a quiet curse, gloved hand reaching for his grappling hook, but the Red Hood didn't like the jittery way his fingers almost trembled as they tried to get a good grip. Hood grabbed the hook, swinging it around once on his finger just to watch the irritated way Nightwing furrowed his eyebrows. "Hood -"
"That's me." the Red Hood agreed.
"Give it back. I have to -"
"You don't have to do anything." Hood returned easily. "Kory's got good reason to be pissed. I know I would be. But she'll calm down, and Arsenal will be fine. No interference or mediation required."
His words would have been far more believable had Arsenal not let out a loud shout halfway through Hood's speech. There was a bright light for just a moment. While Hood was unbothered, Nightwing bristled.
"I have to help."
"I'd argue that you have to take a nap. Or at least eat something. We didn't even get to have breakfast." Hood complained.
Instead of complying with the very obvious right choices for his own health, Nightwing tensed. His gaze flickered to the stairs across the way, and Hood tried not to let it be too obvious he'd caught the glance. If he weren't a bat, he was sure that he would have missed the swift tell, but he knew his brother. He was dedicated to his friends - to a lot of people who didn't deserve it, and if helping them meant leaping over piles of brick and darting around raw infrastructure, then Nightwing would turn it into a marathon.
So when Nightwing moved, the Red Hood was faster. He rushed back towards the stairs -
At the same moment that Nightwing pulled an extra grappling hook and shot into the sky. And the Red Hood -
Well, he was too far away to stop him.
"He had an extra?" Hood hissed to himself furiously.
"He's a Bat, and so are you." the replacement said, finally showing his face with the demon brat and a very irritated (and still tied up) commissioner right behind him. "Why are you surprised?"
Hood replied by very elegantly flipping off the younger man, firing Nightwing's first grapple into the sky. "Take care of the commissioner. I'll handle Nightwing."
There was a harsh tt, and the Red Hood's eye twitched under his helmet. "That is a simple task that Red Robin alone could handle. My skillset would be better used -"
I don't have time for this. The Red Hood thought, and he bit out "Deathstroke the Terminator could still be lurking. Do you want to be the reason he joins the dead Robins club?"
Silence met his words, but there was another blast in the distance, and Red Hood couldn't take the time to soothe any hurt feelings. He lurched into the open air, chest just a little too tight.
Nightwing hit the roof a little harder than normal, shoulder skidding along the ground as he rolled, but his form was good even if his momentum was too much. He twitched at the exhaustion in his limbs, the ache that didn't belong in his bones so early, but he fought through it and kept moving.
Luckily, he didn't have far to go.
At the very far end of the roof, Starfire had Arsenal dangling from his ankle over the edge. Arsenal, for his part, seemed to be taking the position very well. His hands were held out very still, very calm when the situation was everything but. His hair waved in the wind that carried a bitter sting, but he didn't let it bother him. His words were only a little too loud as he said "Just calm down, Star -"
"Calm down?" Starfire almost cried. "I am very calm! Is this not calm?"
She gave his ankle a shake, and Arsenal had to grab the edge of the building to stop himself from coming face to face with it - literally.
"Starfire!" Nightwing shouted. "Star - Kory. Just let him go."
"No, no! Do not let me go!" Arsenal very loudly objected, staring down below.
"Whatever he did, it's not worth losing him. Right?" Nightwing asked.
Her eyes flared, bright and angry. "It seems I have already lost him. After all, I thought he was the kind of person I could confide in, but it turns out that person is already lost to me - if he ever existed at all."
"Kory, no -" Arsenal started, but she let her hand dip just a little, and a panicked look overcame some of the blood rushing to his head.
"Kory, you can't do this." Nightwing called, risking a few steps forward as a sound came behind him. However, he couldn't focus on that when the force of nature in front of him looked angry enough to burn Gotham to the ground - angry enough to drop a friend to the ground. "You don't want to hurt him. This isn't how you solve things."
"Yes, because you know how to solve things!" she cried out, launching Arsenal forwards -
Straight past Nightwing. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as the older man bowled into the Red Hood, both spilling onto the brick. It took no time for the Red Hood to push Arsenal off of him, and Nightwing let out a soft breath of relief as he turned back to his ex-fiancé.
A pang went through his chest. Though she raged like a volcano, life and danger and all the passion Nightwing remembered from so long ago in every burning atom, there was a heartbroken look on her face. Tears shined in her eyes that simply wouldn't fall.
There was a hurt there - Not the kind that came with a too sharp joke or a friendly jab that accidentally hit too close to home. No. What Nightwing saw was the kind of lingering, maleficent pain that took years and years to bury but a moment to unearth, a moment to shatter every shield and defense and basic trust you'd managed to rebuild since -
Since -
(Since Mirage had played her game, since they'd become disillusioned with each other.)
Voice aching, Nightwing managed a raged "I'm sorry."
For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then her shoulders sagged. She wiped at one eye, finally saying "I am sorry as well."
Nightwing walked closer, hands reaching out, and she caught them, a gentle squeeze sending a warm wave through his chest. He gave a quiet chuckle, but it wasn't very nice. She smiled back, and that wasn't very nice either. "We should talk."
"Yeah." Arsenal said, and Nightwing spun around to face both the red-faced archer and his irritated younger brother. "We should talk."
Chapter 39: You Helped Me Break the Silence
Summary:
Dick swallowed. His hand tightened in the quilt as he said "I wouldn't have blamed you -"
"You should." Kory said firmly. "I know the impact of words. As does he."
Her gaze sharpened on Roy once more, and Jason cleared his throat. "Alright, we're getting off topic."
Kory shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. "No. This is my point. This is the topic. I invited Roy in as a safeguard - as a friend. As Dick's friend. I thought he'd understand Dick enough to know when I was too hurt to see rationally. So why - Why was I wrong?"
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Vanity Wayne, of all things, was not known for being vain. Instead, she was remembered - or rather, she was not remembered - as bold. A loudmouth. An unpublished writer. A suffragette. An old maid.
A great, great aunt who had left behind a collection of frighteningly sharp hairpins, dangerously worded letters to congress sealed with a bombshell red kiss, and a dusty room that no one used.
That dust had been disrupted when Dick Grayson turned ten and ventured into the manor's least used halls. He hadn't been in search of solitude so much as some sense of belonging - a familial connection that he couldn't explain to Bruce. It was a need to connect with a story, a person that was family but not by blood, not by choice. It was common in the circus. The magician would lean over and tell of his Great Uncle Al who then became all the children's Great-Great Uncle Al. One of the crew would complain of his snooty sister, and they would all grumble over how their aunt or sister or cousin was too good to visit family. When he had found Miss Vanity's room, he'd sunk into her bed with her stack of papers and thought Great-Great-Great Aunt is going to help with my English classes a lot.
And she had.
Now, the solace of her room, so empty without her, became a meeting ground for everything that she stood for - Open honesty and progress.
Dick had settled on the bed, running a finger soothingly over an old quilt that had been with him longer than everyone in the room. Starfire sat on a chair beside the bed, gaze not shying away from where Roy sat in front of the vanity. Jason stood next to him, arms crossed and hesitant.
(When he had calmed down enough to say this wasn't his business, that he didn't have a right to know everything they'd gone through, Dick had simply looked at him. He hadn't tried to disappear again.)
"I am angry." Kory began slowly, breaking the dam.
"Yeah. I got that." Roy said, shifting. Though his words were dismissive, his tone was softer - quieter. Gentle instead of trying to pick a fight.
Kory took a slow breath. "I don't understand why you twisted my words -"
"It wasn't like that!" Roy exclaimed before deflating once more. "Really. Kory - Kory, I'm sorry -"
"Why were you talking about it in the first place?" Jason cut through simply. "Kory, can you explain that?"
She gritted her teeth. "I told you -"
"Yeah. You told me. And I think it's something everyone deserves to be clear on." Jason stated.
"Who made you mediator?" Roy raised an eyebrow.
"That dick, so shut the fuck up." Jason said with the utmost vicious rationality, gesturing to his brother.
Dick snorted, and three sets of eyes snapped to him. He raised a hand. "Sorry. As you were."
Kory breathed out a laugh before her eyes softened into something sad. She didn't look at Roy, instead looking at Dick as she began to speak once more. "At the time, I did not feel . . . The Titans - The things they said did not make me want to talk to them about what I was going through. Even Donna - She was never unkind, but she was overwhelmed with Terry and her son. But every day became harder. I was being hounded by paparazzi who wanted to know about our breakup for their columns, and I knew their game. They wanted to ruin you, wanted to make me look weak, and I refused to give in."
Dick pressed his lips together. "I didn't realize - I'm sorry I didn't handle them."
"No one should have to handle them." Kory stated. "They should act with dignity instead of harassing the people who have saved their lives ten times over. Reporters."
"Don't let Clark hear you say that." Dick grinned, and she laughed before her mirth fell away.
"I genuinely just wanted to let it go. I did not want to be angry anymore, and I trusted Roy." Kory's eyes flashed, heat beneath her tone as she turned to look at the man in question. "I trusted that nothing I told him would become gossip that could make anyone think what happened was your fault. I wasn't clear-headed when I spoke with him, but I never said you cheated. I never said you wanted it or - I never wanted this. I understand in that way. I have also been used. In that, we are the same."
Dick swallowed. His hand tightened in the quilt as he said "I wouldn't have blamed you -"
"You should." Kory said firmly. "I know the impact of words. As does he."
Her gaze sharpened on Roy once more, and Jason cleared his throat. "Alright, we're getting off topic."
Kory shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. "No. This is my point. This is the topic. I invited Roy in as a safeguard - as a friend. As Dick's friend. I thought he'd understand Dick enough to know when I was too hurt to see rationally. So why - Why was I wrong? Why did you break my trust?"
Roy took in a slow breath before leaning his elbows on his knees. For a long moment, he said nothing as the tension in the room raked higher and higher.
Then he breathed out "Lian was gone."
Kory jerked back. Dick glanced at her before saying "You don't have to -"
"No." Roy said. He straightened, taking one short, sharp breath. "You deserve to know. Both of you."
Dick frowned, glancing at the hard look on Jason's face before nodding. "Okay, Roy."
"When we first talked, Lian wasn't an idea, yet. Not really. But I was struggling with the - the cravings, and rehab helped, but some things don't go away." he said slowly. "The pressure of leading the titans and the government - They wanted to lock you up, Kory. Especially back then, they didn't regard you as human. And I don't mean that as the species you are. Some of them thought of you as an animal. A threat. They were arguing your rights, what the United States owed you and those like you, and they were just waiting for the opportunity to take you apart."
Dick scowled, face pinched in a sick memory.
Kory said nothing, simply waiting.
"So I knew that if I messed up, then you were done. But even when things were good, I needed a fall person, and I knew who would have wanted to protect you more than anyone." Roy's eyes flickered to Dick.
Jason clenched his jaw. "You did what?"
"Jason -"
"Explain. What did you do?"
"Jason." Dick cut through, and Jason's hot gaze, just a hint green, turned on him. "He's right."
Kory shook her head. "Dick -"
"It's only logical. The best person to blame for the fallout is the previous leader." Dick said simply. "I was the leader for a long time, long enough to argue that my influence will take time to remove. Besides, he's right. We couldn't even get married, because they thought you were lesser. If being a fall guy means that you have basic human rights -"
"There should be no fall guy." Kory interrupted, standing to her full height. "We should be able to make change for the better without sacrificing each other!"
"We should." Roy agreed quietly. "But I didn't. And I'm sorry, but it - it got to me. We were already distant, so it wasn't hard for Dick to start to seem like the problem instead of them. So I'm sorry, Star, but when we talked, I blamed Dick. I blamed Dick for everything, even when I defended him - you, Dick, and I didn't even know what really happened. When things started patching over, I - I saw what I'd become, and I didn't like it. I tried to change and restart -"
"You did." Dick said, voice still far too calm. "We put that behind us when we got Lian. It's not a big deal anymore -"
"It is!" Roy exclaimed. "Because if it took until now to get rid of some of that bullshit from back then, how do I know I'm not still carrying around some of those false impressions? Some kind of blame you don't deserve?"
Dick scowled. "It probably would have been obvious by now -"
"How do you know that?" Roy slammed his palm on the vanity, and Dick tightened his grip on the quilt.
"I just do."
There was a loud whistle that silenced the room, and Jason deliberately took a few steps away from Roy, face dangerously red as he said "This isn't getting anywhere."
"Roy . . ." Kory began slowly. "You said Lian was a part of this?"
"No." Roy said sharply. "Look. When - When Prometheus . . . I didn't handle losing her well."
A cloud drifted over the room, heavy with grief that couldn't be undone by finding out they'd been wrong - that she'd been alive after all. A grief they all shared but that seemed to drag Roy Harper's shoulders down between shame and deep hurt.
Roy sucked in a slow breath, forcing his shoulders up. Then he said simply "At the time, I wasn't - didn't want to go back to using, but I just found different addictions instead. Pretended that was better. I was drunk when I told Jason. I promise, Kory. He's the only one I told any of that, and I regretted it."
"You only told Jason?" Kory asked.
"Just him." Roy agreed. "I didn't want to hurt you. I was just - stupid. I remembered thinking that he'd want to know what was going on with his brother - but that wasn't right. I was too drunk to think it through, think about what it'd do to you. And I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make excuses -"
Kory enveloped him into a tight hug, hair shielding them almost like a blessed fire. "I understand."
Roy leaned into Kory, but he lifted his voice to say "Both of you. I know you better than that, Rob. I'm sorry. I know it wasn't your fault. Whatever happened, I shouldn't have - It wasn't your fault."
Dick gave him a smile, breath a little shaky as he let it out. Jason gave him a sharp look, but he didn't say anything. "Where's Lian now?"
Kory released Roy, and he gave a crooked smile - worn out and not as bright but trying to be. "I got Ollie to watch her. I would've been here faster, but I didn't want to leave her with just anyone."
"And you didn't bring the pipsqueak to see me why?" Jason pushed.
"Besides the bruise on my jaw and something happening here that I thought you might need backup for?" Roy asked. "Well, there's this guy with a proclivity to adopt children, and Lian is too cute for her own good."
Dick snorted. "Sorry, Roy, but it's inevitable. One day, you'll turn your back, and her last name will be Wayne."
Kory's laugh was infectious, and somehow, they were all giggling after a moment, even Jason chuckling despite the anger that had previously hid in his eyes.
After a moment, Kory spoke with a solemn note in her voice. "I should not have threatened to throw you off that roof, Roy. The truth is . . . Yesterday, I realized something. I had always heard inappropriate comments on you, Dick. However, I did not realize the level of disrespect and gossip about you - It took me back to Mirage, and it made me realize that when the gossip calmed down somewhat for me, it never did for you. I was angry, and knowing that Roy talked about it . . . I thought you had caused it. Encouraged it."
Roy shook his head. "No, but I've heard enough of that shit to last me a lifetime."
Dick shifted uncomfortably. "It's not that big of a deal."
Jason snorted. "Right."
"It's not." Dick insisted.
"I don't mean to offend." Kory said slowly. "However, the disrespect I saw yesterday and have seen glimpses of in the past - That is not acceptable. You don't deserve that."
"Besides." Roy said, leaning back. "Think about it. If that's how they treat you, who else do they treat like that?"
Dick gritted his teeth, clenching the blanket in his hand.
Kory reached out a hand, hesitating to touch him at the last second. She straightened her shoulders and gave a soft sigh. "Dick, I do not want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or move forward without your input. I will not take your agency from you in this matter. However, I believe it is important that those who portray themselves as heroes act accordingly. I believe this should be brought to the attention of the core Leaguers."
Dick jerked back, the taste of ash in his mouth at the idea of Kory talking to Bruce about other heroes, lesser-known heroes without the connections and power that he had, telling them that they were mean to him -
(And he knew that it was different, that it was wrong. He wasn't a fool. He knew what was happening, but he also knew how it would play out. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman - They would see that the Leaguers who acted incorrectly would face appropriate or even harsher consequences than necessary. Everything would be okay for a bit, but then there'd be whispers of Was that really necessary? and What an overreaction and Nightwing has the League in his pocket and Nightwing wanted them gone which would turn into Nightwing's a slut and He wanted it and He's the real abuser.)
(Then that would turn into League members not answering an emergency beacon. Or not being called when he was needed.)
(He could already taste blood and guilt crammed down this throat.)
"I want to handle it my way." Dick said, meeting Kory's gaze evenly.
"What is your way?" she replied, voice still layered with tones and emotions without any judgement.
"I don't know, yet." Dick admitted. "But I'll figure it out."
Roy sighed. "You always were stubborn."
Kory smiled. "We'll follow you just like we did when we were kids."
Dick gave her a soft smile before his gaze shifted past her to Roy. "While we're talking about it, I gotta say I wasn't exactly innocent back then, either. I'm sorry for how we handled your addiction."
Roy shifted back, and Jason's eye tracked the movement for just a moment. Roy shook his head. "It's not a big deal."
"Where have I heard that before?" Jason muttered, eyes flickering to Dick.
"We had worked with - I had worked with people with addictions before. I should have known better. I did know better. I don't know why it was so much harder with you."
Roy rubbed his forehead. "It's different when it's someone you know."
"We abandoned you." Dick said softly.
"No. You didn't." Roy said. "I'm not gonna pretend it was easy - that I didn't feel alone sometimes, but you - you were there in the end. And all that - It was a long time ago, and I remember what you were going through then."
His words were heavy, and his eyes flickered towards Jason for just a moment, and Dick turned his eyes away. "That doesn't make it okay."
"No, but after Lian . . . I get it. So just let it be done, Dick. We've both acted like dicks. We don't need to go through our greatest hits."
Dick swallowed and nodded. "So are you gonna stay in town for a bit?"
"I've gotta be back to pick up Lian tonight, but I've got some hours to kill." Roy grinned. "What were you thinking?"
"Maybe about making some newer hits." Dick shrugged.
Roy laughed, but Kory spoke softly - still strong but gentle. "Perhaps we should discuss some things first."
Dick nodded. "You're right. But maybe we can get food afterwards? All of us?"
Jason crossed his arms. "With these psychos? Why would you want that?"
Dick grinned. "Aww, Little Wing. Don't worry. You're one of these psychos, too."
Roy barked out a laugh, and Jason punched him in the shoulder. "Hey, now. People are going to start asking questions if you do that too much."
Kory laughed, and the two grinned back at her.
Watching the three of them, something in Dick settled. He wasn't sure quite what it was - perhaps some long held resentment, some secret anxieties, some kind of worry that he didn't even know he had. Either way, it disappeared into warm contentment. He risked a look at Kory, and he saw an old mirth in her face that he hadn't seen in a long time.
"Alright, alright." Dick said. "Run off and play. We'll catch up with you later."
"What, are we twelve?" Roy rolled his eyes.
Jason snorted. "You're twelve. I'm more of a healthy fourteen."
"I'm older than you!" Roy exclaimed before pointing at Dick. "I'm older than him!"
"I couldn't tell." Jason said, pushing the red head out the door. Before he left, his eyes flickered to Dick. His gaze was heavy, searching for a moment, but whatever he found must have satisfied him, because he nodded and closed the door behind him.
Leaving just Dick and Kory.
Dick took a slow breath. Then he said "I'm not sure how to start."
She smiled. "Neither do I, but we should not let that stop us from saying what needs to be said."
Dick gave her a bittersweet look, soft but understanding in a way that stung. His fingers traced over old stitchwork from a woman who was just as brave as the heroine in front of him, and he let her give him strength. "Right. Then I suppose we should just jump in."
"Leap before we look?" she asked, bemused.
"Just like old times." Dick agreed.
Notes:
At first, this chapter included both talks, but it was just taking tooooo heckin' long. So I decided to split it up while I work on editing/adjusting/adding to the Kory/Dick conversation. I don't want anyone to misinterpret/misunderstand what I want to present, so it's taking a good amount of time to write it correctly. Hopefully, that doesn't bother anyone too much.
Once again, thank you all so much for reading and all the lovely comments. I've finally gotten my inbox down to 60, so I think I might be able to finish replying to all the comments soon. They've all been a blessing, both positive comments and harsher critiques, and I wanted to reply with as much thoughtfulness as I can. Thank you to everyone who has given this story their attention and consideration. I truly appreciate it.
I'm very grateful. Happy holidays. <3
Chapter 40: Now I Long for Yesterday
Summary:
"How is it that now is just as hard when that pain is past?"
Dick swallowed. "Maybe because the pain isn't really gone. We just buried it."
She sighed. "I suppose that is true."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Red Robin almost drifted away from the police station, a near permanent notch between his eyebrows as he scrunched them tightly together in thought. With the commissioner safely returned, not a single hint of Deathstroke lurking, and as happy an ending as could be found after their confrontation with the mercenary, he not only had time to think but had too much to think about.
"I do not wish to see you join the dead Robins club."
About everything except for that.
Red Robin froze, hand on his grappling gun. He slowly turned to stare at Robin.
The younger stood there, jaw tightly clenched as if he were awaiting some form of recalcitrance or harsh rejection. However, he didn't lower his gaze. He stared at Red Robin with all the stubborn determination of a criminal pleading guilty despite there being no proof to incite punishment against them.
"I didn't think you did. Neither did Red Hood." Red Robin replied just a little too slowly. "He was just being a jerk."
"I have tried to kill you in the past."
Red Robin swallowed thickly. "Cultural differences."
Robin shook his head. "It was more than that. I - I did not feel safe in my position in the household. I sought yours instead."
"And the only thing you knew to do was to kill me. Like I said, your culture in the League was different than mine." Red Robin stated. "Look. There's a lot that can't be said here, but I can say this. You've saved my life, too. When you were a kid, you weren't given all the options and tools to make your own decisions. Would you blame an abused dog for biting you?"
Robin stiffened. "I was hardly abused."
"Sure." Red Robin agreed, keeping his tone purposefully light lest he incite an argument. "But either way, I know you wouldn't blame anyone for lashing out that didn't know better."
For all the confidence and strength that Kory wore like a heart on her sleeve, her face was drawn with old hurt. Her brow was furrowed as if struggling to find not only the words to fill the silence but to settle even on a topic.
Dick's chest felt too hot, a heavy weight under his ribs threatening to fall through the floor and keep going until the magma at the center of the Earth could burn away all the useless thoughts in his head. However, that - that would be cowardly, and while Dick wanted to run, he knew it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair to Starfire - to Kory.
(To the woman he'd once envisioned sharing a life with.)
(Now, they could at least share some closure.)
"Kory." Dick let out a soft breath before his voice came out stronger, more confident. "Whatever you need to say, I'm listening. I'm just sorry it took so long."
"I don't know if I was ready until recently." Kory admitted. "If either of us were."
"Then there's no time like the present." Dick grinned, though his nerves made it fall flat.
Kory took in a slow breath completely opposite to her fiery being, her loud laughter, her joyous flight that Dick's lungs nearly froze for a moment, heartache heavier than the air within them. "I wish that when I learned of what happened that it happened - differently. That it was you and me without Pantha and Gar and Leo . . . and that it wasn't in the midst of fighting. Everything was happening so fast, and Pantha was saying - saying that I should have sex with one of them like it was nothing, and I - I made assumptions. I saw your hair and your new suit - the new suit she made you, and you seemed so dismissive of what happened that I thought . . ."
Understanding dawned in Dick's face. "You thought I liked her."
"I did. I felt like it was someone else standing there." Kory breathed out. "Like you were someone I didn't know, but it was more than that. In the plane before the crash, it felt like you didn't care that it happened."
"Like it was a free pass to cheat." Dick said softly.
Kory bit her lip. "I know now that it wasn't - that you never would have, but in the moment with Pantha in my ear and you seeming so . . . so unconcerned, I did. I thought it was the beginning of the end. I thought that perhaps your feelings for me were fading, but looking back, it is so obvious. I wish I could go back and shake myself. I know that you hide your pain. I have known that as long as I have known you. I don't know why I thought you wouldn't for something so - so awful."
"You can't blame yourself." Dick said. "Not when you were hurting after Raven . . . after what happened and not when I told you the worst way I could have."
"What other way was there?" Kory asked.
Dick leaned back against the headboard, gaze rising to the ceiling for just a moment. "I really don't know. I didn't want to hide it from you, and I couldn't have waited for things to calm down. With our lives, there's never really a calm moment."
She smiled sadly. "Not even enough for a backyard wedding."
A pang went through Dick's chest. "No. Not even for that."
Kory slowly ran a hand along the blanket, her touch painfully gentle despite the serious, thoughtful look on her face. She smiled just a little bitterly. "We spoke of this once before. I was so angry, and it felt like my heart was breaking the whole time. How is it that now is just as hard when that pain is past?"
Dick swallowed. "Maybe because the pain isn't really gone. We just buried it."
She sighed. "I suppose that is true."
Dick shifted over, patting the bed beside him. She climbed up carefully, folding her long legs beneath her as she leaned back against the headboard.
Warmth spread through Dick's chest, fighting back and forth between fondness and an old scar of desolation. He thought of the days where he would have taken her hand in his, comfort filling their space - their little corner of the universe in their little apartment. Back before Jason was dead, before Dick lived alone, before Mirage had stood above him looking like a lie, a pair of scissors in her hand as she shaped his hair like her soon to be rapist -
"I believed you when you told me that you were a man who would only be with one woman." Kory said. "I was hurt, and it took me time to breathe through the anger, but I want you to know that I did believe you. I know you didn't want to sleep with her, and it was unfair of me to expect you to know that it wasn't me. I responded poorly to learning what happened to you, and I am so sorry."
"Kory, I forgave you for that years ago." Dick said. "We talked it out that day, didn't we?"
"Yes, but I didn't understand just how . . . how convincing she was until she looked like you." Kory swallowed, and she looked him in the eye as she continued. "I didn't understand until she kissed me with your lips."
Dick stilled, a chill running through his body. "I don't want you to understand that."
"If I could go back . . ."
Dick smiled bitterly. "I know what you mean. There are a hundred things I'd change, a thousand people I'd save."
"I would have been better to you."
"You were better to me." Dick sighed. "I worried a lot that I expected you to change, to adapt to Earth instead of accepting you the way you were. You always accepted me as I was. And you were the only one who really seemed to understand how - how wrong Mirage was."
"I wanted to kill her." Kory admitted. "I wanted to kill her."
"I know."
"Every flirtation, every insult, every time she - she breathed, I wanted to kill her."
Dick closed his eyes, a pang heavy in his chest.
"Why did you hold me back? After everything she did to you, to your reputation, to us? Why did you keep defending her?"
Dick sighed. "Honestly, I was worried about you. If the press framed you as uncontrollable and dangerous when you were protecting them, what would they say if you hurt another hero? I didn't want it to make its way into the gossip columns. But that's not all of it. Some of it was more self-serving."
Kory frowned. "You are not a selfish man. You weren't then, and you aren't now."
A bitter smile flicked up the corner of his mouth. "You always saw the best in me."
"And I don't believe that you tried to change me. Not really." Kory replied. "You made sure I knew the customs. You didn't force me to follow them. Without you, I likely would have been arrested for indecency without understanding why."
Dick snorted. "That would have been a newspaper headline."
Her smile fell, but her eyes were fond as she said "They always have the most to say."
Dick shook his head. "And all of it nonsense."
They lapsed into a slightly uncomfortable silence, a thousand headline titles that painted them as villains and immoral whispering in the silence between them. Dick wanted to tear away that page from their story. He wanted to soften its rough edges, its harsh words into a fairy tale just as films had done to the Brothers' Grimm.
But their past was more than a happily ever after written on a page that no one got to live. Their love had been alive, and even though they'd gone their separate ways, Kory had shaped a part of Dick - a part of himself that he'd never give away.
It was something he was grateful for even when they sat side by side, old wounds oozing as if they were fresh.
"What was the other reason?"
Dick blinked, startled out of his reverie. "What?"
"Why else did you stop me?"
Kory turned her body to face him, eyes boring into his, and Dick swallowed at her unwavering gaze.
(The Bats - they would dissect you. They'd take in every little detail. They'd analyze the wobble of your lip, the broken syntax of your words, the pitch of your voice.)
(But Kory? She opened herself up as if it were her that was being broken down. She'd take anything you gave as a gift, every emotion loud and honest.)
(Somehow, it was more frightening than any of the Bats.)
"I wanted to pretend it didn't happen." Dick admitted, grieving the understanding that slowly filled her face. "I wanted it to have never happened. I wanted you to be the one I was with that day. I wanted - I wanted the memory erased. I wanted it gone and for all of us Titans to be heroes. The thought of one of us doing that when we'd throw a civilian in jail for it - I didn't know what to do with that. So every time it was brought up, I just pushed it away. I pretended it was nothing."
"You hid your pain." Kory murmured.
Dick gritted his teeth. "I was a coward. I buried my head -"
"No." Kory said, but he kept going.
"I should have faced it then. I should have stood up for you - both when Mirage said things and when the other Titans did. When Beast Boy started in on you -"
"No." Kory repeated, but this time, her voice was harsher. She gripped his forearm harshly enough to snap him out of his slow descent into self-hatred. "What Mirage did was on Mirage. What Beast Boy said was - was disgusting, but it was on him, and we all knew that he was trying to distract from his own mess with Terra and how upset he was about Cyborg -"
"Yes, but -"
"Dick, we were both in pain. I'm sorry that neither of us could see what the other was going through."
Dick shook his head, rubbing at his temple and the stress headache building there.
(He was exhausted and drained and felt like he couldn't focus - he just kept going in circles, but -)
(God, it felt unfair that Kory was being so understanding -)
"You were right back then. I should have known -"
"Dick -"
"Do you remember how upset you were?" Dick asked, and she closed her eyes, lips twisting with pain. "Not after - the day it happened. You were upset, and you asked me to give you space. I - I didn't. You asked me to, and I didn't respect it -"
"You were young." Kory said softly. "We were young."
"Yeah, but I can't help but think - I knew it was strange that you went from wanting space to - to wanting more -"
"That isn't fair." Kory interrupted, laying a hand on his. "And with logic like that, we could both share the blame."
Dick's eyebrows furrowed. "What -"
"I was hurting, but instead of sharing it with you and asking for help, I was torturing myself. And by hurting myself, I was hurting the people that loved me - I was hurting you. You could say I pushed you into her arms. I gave her the opportunity -"
Dick shook his head. "That's not fair."
Kory smiled, and Dick paused. They stared at one another for a moment before Dick's lips quirked upwards almost without his permission. Kory grinned back, a giggle slipping past her lips. Suddenly, they were both laughing. Hands curled up in the old quilt, they leaned into each other at the force of it - and it was forceful. It wasn't the giddy, bubbly laughter of young love or friends shifting to family.
It was the kind of breathless laughter that sucked the air out of a room and left it tainted with an ache too deep to cry over.
Kory wiped a tear from her eye. "I don't know why we're laughing. It's hardly funny -"
Dick snorted. "It's really not."
"They say laughter is the best medicine." Kory said.
"I don't think they've ever been really sick." Dick replied.
"Perhaps they have." Kory brushed her hair back behind her ears, the curls loose and messy from their wild moment of giggles. Dick's eyes couldn't help but follow the movement, thoughts pulled back to when he would have done it for her, gentle despite knowing the power of the woman who chose to stand with him. She turned to him, continuing on despite how his thoughts had drifted, and his eyes had fogged with bittersweet memories. "Perhaps it's the best medicine for the soul sick. Or maybe the hurt."
Dick tore his eyes away from her, forcing himself back into the present. "Only when it's honest."
Kory's eyes glittered as she smiled. "You can hear dishonest laughter."
Dick took a deep breath. "I'm sorry that I pushed you into the wedding."
Kory blinked, startled. "You didn't. I wanted it as much as you. I was excited."
Dick frowned. "I thought you were just . . . going along with it. You said we should postpone, and you were right -"
Kory took both his hands in hers, her grip tight as she spoke slowly, not letting a single syllable go to waste. "Dick Grayson, I was so excited to be with you. I wanted to be with you. I told Donna even that if you were marrying me because you loved me and wanted to be with me, I'd never let you go."
"But?" Dick asked.
"But I felt that after you'd been hurt by Mirage, that we weren't able to connect the same." Kory said softly. "That isn't your fault. It just seemed as though the wedding were a way to achieve the connection or a responsibility to me - what you should do rather than what you wanted to do, and I wanted the wedding to be because we had that connection."
"We just couldn't seem to get on the same page." Dick sighed.
"Yes." Kory agreed, pulling him forwards into a hug. Her grip was strong, comforting, and her hair fell over him like a soft shroud. He closed his eyes and clung right back. "Donna feared that it was for the wrong reasons, too, and perhaps I should have listened, but . . ."
Something warm landed on Dick's cheek, and he startled as it began to drip down his face. He opened his eyes, aching to see tears barely clinging to her eyelashes before escaping. He tightened his hold. "Kory . . ."
"I went through with the wedding, because I wanted to be with you, but I was selfish. I knew the marriage wasn't right for you, and things just fell apart. Back then, I never would have imagined going a day without you. Now, there are months where I don't see you, and the grief is there as strong as when one of our friends is taken from us."
Kory's words were still just as strong, her grip bruising, but the tears grew stronger and stronger. Dick soothed a hand down the back of her head, gently petting her curls. His eyes burned, but only one tear managed to escape as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Kory, I never want to hear you say you're selfish again."
"It's true." Kory whispered, but Dick's eyes, red as they were, sharpened.
"No. I was being selfish." Dick said. "Everyone told me I was out of line, that I was acting out, and they were right. I knew - I was just so desperate for a fix. A solution, and I was - I was using the wedding to try to fix things that take hard work and communication to handle. I was looking for an easy way out, and in the process, I hurt you."
"I couldn't hold that against you. You were hurting, and with Brother Blood . . ."
Kory's grip tightened for just a moment - too tight, too strong - before her hands were suddenly soft as feathers, gently soothing as she said "I hurt for you."
The words struck Dick like lightning, and he jerked back. His found a grip on her shoulders, staring into her watery eyes. "I think that's the root of the problem. I look back, and I hurt for you. You look back, and you hurt for me. But we forgave each other years ago. Maybe it's time we tried forgiving ourselves."
Her lips parted in a silent gasp before she let out an amused breath, lips tilting upwards in a sweet smile that made him melt. "You've grown so much since then."
Dick gently wiped her tears, and they stayed there, sniffling wetly into the silent room.
After a moment, Kory murmured "There is an old story on Tamaran, a legend. It goes that there was a prince and a peasant. Their souls were matched, but never at the same time. When she was brave enough to pursue a prince, he was not brave enough to break tradition to stand for her. When he was wise enough to search for a queen to serve his people, she didn't have the wisdom to rule. When she was kind enough to open up and help those around her, he was too hardened by his status above his people. And so, they were perfect halves always at the wrong time."
"People who loved each other at the wrong time, huh?" Dick said softly.
She gave another sniff, smiling as she said "Yes. It's a beautiful story."
Dick took a slow breath, trying not to choke on mucus from the tears he'd managed to swallow. "How so?"
"They were wise enough not to waste their lives and their happiness for years of not fitting together." Kory said softly.
Dick leaned his head back against the headboard, mind drifting to Vanity Wayne who never married yet didn't waste a moment. To Roy who wasn't with the mother of his child but found so much joy in his little girl, his friends. To Donna who had suffered all the highs of love and the lowest lows of having her child ripped from her grasp, who had died and come back stronger and braver than anyone else could have.
And he thought of the love that cost sacrifice - the white dress Kory had walked down the aisle in, the flowers they couldn't get, the people who couldn't - wouldn't come to the wedding -
And he thought of the choice not to sacrifice oneself for love, and something lifted in his chest that he didn't know was weighed down.
"You're right." Dick said softly. "That is beautiful."
The two sat together in silence for long enough that Dick felt his eyes begin to droop. Darkness took him for just a moment before he wrenched himself back into the world of the living. He jumped to his feet, stumbling just a little. "Well. We've left Roy and Jason for long enough. Let's go eat."
"Dick." Kory raised both eyebrows. "They can wait long enough for a nap."
Dick frowned. "But -"
"I know that look. You're dead on your feet. Come on." she pulled up the comforter, slipping beneath it and the old quilt before holding it open in a clear invitation. "Rest?"
Dick hesitated before huffing out a laugh. "You know I can't say no to you."
He was gone before she finished tucking the blanket around him, closing her own eyes and drifting away.
Notes:
Welp. There are over 10 different versions of this chapter, and I can genuinely say that I was just being a perfectionist.
I no longer know if it's good or bad, but I did my best to do these two justice, and I spent way too much time worrying about people hating Starfire. In the end, I can't do anything about that, so I hope you like it, and I'm going to try not to be too critical of this chapter.
Thanks for reading, guys. Hopefully, this is good. <3
Chapter 41: I'd Give You my Lungs so You Could Breathe
Summary:
"He seems like he's doing well." Roy murmured.
Jason's lips twisted.
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe not."
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Footsteps, heavy and confident, echoed on the fine floors of Wayne manor. Jason couldn't help the way his body tensed at the sound. Though this place had once been home for a version of himself that had died, another part of himself never could relax with the knowledge of the expensive polish the floor drank like fine wine.
Everything was so fine, too fine.
(And Jason knew how much money had been funneled from Wayne Enterprises and Bruce's own pocketbook into the infrastructure of Gotham, the charities, the families in need, but he still couldn't help but think of the fact that the money wasted beneath his every footstep could've paid for someone's cancer treatment -)
"He seems like he's doing well." Roy murmured.
Jason's lips twisted.
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Or maybe not."
Jason shook his head. "It's not that he's not doing okay. I mean, he's Dick - He can take just about anything, and lately, he's been handling a lot. It's just that it seems like it's all hitting him at once, and that's not fair."
Roy frowned. "It all? Does that have something to do with that weird ass video Wally sent me?"
Jason blinked. "What?"
"Look. I got it." Roy said, pausing to fish out his phone from his pocket. His fingers were fumbling, but soon enough, a familiar scene was playing out on the tiny screen.
Chaos, floating debris and brick and smoke itself, seemed frozen in the background as Nightwing glowed. The insignia on his chest began to burn almost white with light in the camera, flaring out and making the technology fuzz around the edges. He lifted into the air, and Jason frowned as he seemed to grow almost younger -
Like the youthful Dick that Jason so often had met the goddess as.
"Fuck." Jason whispered.
"I am here." both Dick's voice, now matured and heavy with years' worth of weight, said with his younger voice from when he'd been young and angry and Jason's brother alone -
(Deathstroke was right. The thought cut like razors into Jason's chest. This makes him a target.)
"He sounds like . . ." Roy's voice trailed off, face becoming stricken with something that Jason had seen both seldomly and far too often.
(It was a hidden thing, Roy's pain. He was more likely to pick up a drink and drown the pain than admit to it, something Jason had not batted an eye at once upon a time. Now -)
(Now it was different.)
"I know." Jason said darkly as a camera flare lit up the screen, and the video ended.
"Jason." Roy said seriously, hints of a leader shining through his tone as he said "What's going on?"
Jason gritted his teeth. He was likely the one with the clearest picture of everything going on, yet he felt just as confused and frustrated as when he'd landed the plane outside the cave to confront the goddess herself. It had been less than a week, yet it felt like years with all the things he hadn't known - all the things he should have known. His hands tightened into fists. "You remember the aliens landing?"
"Yeah. I was helping Black Bat in the city." Roy reminded him.
"Do you know how we got them to leave?"
Roy frowned. "Uh. No."
"Long story short, it was between Dick and Tim to infiltrate the ship, and Dick volunteered. He asked for a protection from a goddess so he could get in the ship without any danger, and it all got fucked up." Jason scowled. "She gave him the protection which is apparently also a possession situation where the goddess does whatever she wants with him, but she also cursed him. So me, Tim, Damian - We keep seeing his memories."
Roy went white as a sheet. "I'm guessing not the warm, fuzzy ones, either."
Jason bared his teeth in a smile that was far from nice. "No."
"Dick's dealt with a lot -"
"That's putting it mildly. There's all this shit we should've known -"
"Dick's a private person -"
"Is he, though? Or does he just feel like he can't trust anyone with it?" Jason snapped.
Roy frowned, a hint of defensiveness slipping into his voice. "He does have people he can trust."
Jason scoffed. "When the shit with Mirage went down and he wound up homeless, he didn't even trust the Titans enough to ask to crash in the tower."
Roy frowned, confusion creeping into the line between his eyebrows. "The tower -"
"Who does he have to rely on?"
"Shut the fuck up for a second." Roy snapped, and before Jason could return his ire, Roy said "Titans Tower was demolished."
Jason blinked, body freezing for a second before he barely let out a "What?"
"There wasn't a Titans Tower. It was rebuilt, but the original - That's gone. Trust me. I would know." By the shame in his eyes, Jason didn't have to ask about his involvement in its loss. "And even if it hadn't been gone, he wouldn't have had to ask. He had a room there before - Before. Who told you Dick couldn't ask the Titans about crashing in the tower?"
Jason didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Roy let out a slow, heavy breath. "Look. At the time, Brother Blood was in his head. The thing is - some of his memories might be twisted, not to mention all the shit that was going down at the time. I'd be shocked if he did remember everything right. But the Tower - The Titans were closeknit even when they - we were being assholes. They never would've let him deal with that if they knew he was homeless. I wouldn't have, either."
"I hate what Mirage did to him." Jason breathed out. "I don't know how the Titans could have put up with her knowing what she did."
"Well, Kory didn't." Roy snorted. "She wanted to kill her whole-heartedly. It was by Dick's sheer stubbornness that she didn't. But then, well, Donna had a soft spot for her, and then all that shit went down with Deathwing -"
"Yeah." Jason scowled. "Dick's alternate self."
Roy stopped, rooted to the ground. "Huh?"
Jason paused, turning back. "What?"
"That was not an alternate version of Dick. No version of Dick would ever -" Roy cut himself off by seemingly sheer force as he said "Deathwing was a robot - I hesitate to even call him that. He was some kind of weird monster thing. Whoever brainwashed Mirage made him look and sound like Dick, but that wasn't Dick."
"Did anyone ever tell Dick that?"
Roy frowned. "If we did, it must've been while -"
"Brother Blood." Jason almost snarled before biting back the malice, the frustration. "Right. I should've known it couldn't be Dick. To do something like that let alone be some kind of killer - Dick doesn't have that in him. To kill, maybe, but not with cold blood."
A silence, heavy and weighted, drifted between them. Roy didn't cross the distance between them, leaving planks of fine wood to gleam darkly at Jason as if they knew secrets that he could never have conceived of.
"Did no one ever tell you?" Roy asked.
A sick feeling started in the pit of Jason's stomach. "What?"
"I mean - I only really know because of rumors, but I know - I remember how angry he used to be." Roy murmured almost to himself.
"Roy." Jason said. "What are you talking about?"
Roy stared long and hard until the hackles on the back of Jason's neck stood on end, his chest tight with a mix of anger and anxiety that never seemed dead and buried underneath mountains of dirt that had gotten stuck beneath his nails, painfully deep to the point that even the Lazarus Pit hadn't been able to burn it away -
"I think you should talk to Dick."
Jason blinked. "What?"
Roy's face was set, resolved as he said "Once while I was drunk and stupid, I talked to you about something I shouldn't have. I'm not doing it again. So you should talk to Dick."
Jason gnashed his teeth, frustration and confusion covering his racing heart. "What am I even supposed to say?"
Roy swallowed. "Ask him about the end of the Joker War."
All the blood drained out of Jason's face, and before he could utter a single sound, his world was spinning into darkness.
Into a different kind of darkness.
(One that reeked of death and the overpowering stench of clown makeup.)
Notes:
Hey, Brother Fanart
by Avalon Arts and Theatrics - I was super excited to receive this as a gift from a friend. I'm so grateful. She's starting up her YouTube and posted a speedpaint of it, too, if you'd want to watch that. (She also promised to do a Deathstroke project for me back in September, but you didn't hear it from me. lol)The Art Video
But thank you so much for sticking with me for so long. I really hope you like this chapter and where I take the end of this story now that it's getting to the final stretch.
Chapter 42: You’re a Star in the Face of the Sky
Summary:
Dick didn't look back at her, eyes burning as he quietly said "The goddess thought I was a bad brother. That's why this is all happening. Because I didn't do enough for them."
Notes:
Is the A03 curse real? Maybe. But so am I.
(Unfortunately, so is my student loan debt. lmao)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Dick's face twisted as his eyelashes clung together, begging him to sleep longer, but his body ached loudly, and the crust about his face told him it'd been too long already. He blinked once, twice, and felt a yawn like the impending last line of a novel - an inevitable conclusion until there was a twist that dragged him back into the story.
The yawn halted in his throat as he caught sight of Kory's phone.
Tucked as he was into the crook of her shoulder and weighed down comfortably by Great-Great-Great Aunt Vanity Wayne's old quilt, he felt drawn somewhere between comfortable sleep and the conversation that had worn him more than even the confrontation with Deathstroke the Terminator.
A conversation marked with coffee-burnt skin and pain far deeper than skin.
Because Mirage had stolen Kory's skin.
(And taken more than anyone else could have whilst she'd given away her visage.)
I can't make them stop selling the mag. I wish I could. It's a limited-edition reprint - too profitable for them to simply give up. A mystery person by the name of Wilkinson had texted. Not immediately at least. We have options here.
I don't WANT options. Kory had texted back. I just want them to stop! Did you tell them it isn't me?
They are aware that this was an impersonator, and they are claiming that this gives them grounds to sue for any payments they made to you.
I didnt get the money! SHE DID!!!
I know. Wilkinson had sent back, and a sick feeling welled up within Dick's stomach. If they sue, our best option is to countersue on copyright grounds - claiming that the impersonator stole your look and identity. However, you may also -
"Oh, hello." Kory said softly. The phone screen went dark, and Dick blinked. "I did not know you were awake."
Dick scrubbed tiredly at one eye. "Barely."
The yawn finally escaped the gilded cage of his chest where a war waged. On one side, he thought he owed her to say he knew - that he'd read her messages. On the other hand, he felt it unfair to drag up more pain after the talk they'd just had. More than that, he'd invaded her privacy even if the glowing screen had been practically shoved beneath his nose.
It wasn't fair.
(It hadn't been fair then when images of Kory's body, provocative and scandalous enough to threaten her other modeling jobs, had dragged the most lecherous and shameless men from their basements with hungry eyes and disgusting requests, and Kory had to deal with the fallout practically alone -)
(Not this time. Dick thought to himself.)
"I'm sorry. I just saw your messages." Dick admitted. "I should have told you I was awake."
Kory tensed, and though Dick couldn't see her face, it wasn't hard to imagine her face - the discomforted look that always so quickly melted away once she resolved to speak on it.
This was no different.
She gently untangled herself from him, a soft smile appearing on her face. "Legal disputes and documents and lawyers. I may never get used to that part of your culture."
Dick snorted. "Me, neither."
Her composure gathered once more, she pushed her fiery locks behind her and stood. "Though I am very accustomed to the many food choices."
Dick smiled, recognizing the easy out she'd provided. If she didn't want to talk about the obvious legal battle over those nightmarish pictures, he wasn't going to force her. Support wasn't about getting all the answers or pressing your will on anyone.
Sometimes, it was sitting in a loud pizza parlor and trading ridiculous stories for laughter.
Dick let the tension fall out of his shoulders. "We did promise Roy and Jason dinner."
"We might not make it to dinner." Kory replied sardonically. "We have left them alone a long time."
Dick laughed, and the two bid Vanity's room adieu before they stopped, confusion loud.
Roy was leaned against a wall at the end of the hall, hair mused and face drawn. He frowned at them tightly.
Alone.
Dick glanced around, the beginning of adrenaline painfully pressing against his laden chest. "Where's Jay?"
Roy's lips pressed firmly together into a thin line, and Dick's heart sank into his stomach. "He just passed out. He's down in the - the basement. Alfred said not to worry, but I don't get it. One second, we were talking, and everything was - Well, not fine, but close enough. Then he just dropped."
As Roy spoke, the blood drained further and further out of Dick's face until Kory frowned at him in concern, expressive eyes flitting between Roy's bone-deep worry and the blooming horror spreading throughout every inch of Dick's existence.
"That's not possible." Dick whispered.
Kory laid a hand on his shoulder. "What isn't possible?"
That first day that was both so long ago and mere days prior - a week? Dick could hardly keep up with the time lately. It was all so far away and so clear in his mind. It felt as though that first sharp burning through his mark had been just hours before, but this time, he hadn't felt a single thing.
And yet, wasn't the last time practically a soft pang? It hadn't even burned.
(But what did that mean? Had he just gotten used to the feeling or was his body acclimating to the goddess's power? Was that a good thing or a very bad thing?)
(And worse, now he didn't know. He didn't know when or who or what - God, what could they have seen without him knowing? Moment after moment, nightmare after nightmare, death after death replayed in his mind's eye as he couldn't stop wondering what they could possibly have seen without him ever the wiser -)
"Dick . . ." Kory said softly, and Dick swallowed down his thoughts.
"It's a memory." Dick said. "I don't know what one, but he's experiencing a memory. One of my memories."
Roy stared hard, not saying a word, but Kory - Kory covered her mouth in understanding.
"I need to check on the others." Dick swallowed. "Make sure Jason's the only one."
Roy and Kory glanced at one another before Roy frowned. "What if the others already experienced it and woke up? Or if they're just napping? How are you supposed to tell?"
Dick stalked forwards, skin prickling as the other two followed him. "I don't know."
"Dick . . ."
"I don't know, okay?" Dick snapped before swallowing down his frustration. Exhaustion seeped into his voice, body feeling as if he hadn't rested in years. "I just don't know."
"Dick." Kory called, a hand on his shoulder pulling him to a stop. She could have done it forcefully, absurd strength surging through each long finger, but it was a power far deeper than physical that actually caused him to pause. "There is nothing you can do. Please don't torture yourself like this."
Nothing I can do now. Dick thought bitterly.
Dick didn't look back at her, eyes burning as he quietly said "The goddess thought I was a bad brother. That's why this is all happening. Because I didn't do enough for them."
The admission fell heavily between the three of them. It didn't feel like a soft confession in a little room with the promise of forgiveness on the other side. No, it felt like Sisyphus dropping his boulder at the top of the hill knowing he'd have to carry the burden up an endless hill for eternity, the burden never lightening.
"Do you even hear yourself?" Roy snapped.
Dick didn't reply.
"You dumbass." Roy murmured before continuing louder. "Dick Grayson not doing enough for people he loves? Absurd."
"The sun would sooner fall from the sky." Kory added.
Dick still didn't look at them, shame pulling his eyes down the hall. "But is it ever really enough?"
Roy's steps were loud as he suddenly planted himself in front of Dick. "Yeah. It is. Who cares what a friendless cave dweller thinks -"
Dick snorted, the laugh forced out of him. "You can't call her that! What if she hears you?"
"Think I'm scared of her?" Roy challenged as Kory giggled, her warmth filling Dick's lungs. "We faced way worse when we were teenagers. You were my brother then, and now - nothing has changed for me there. So stop being stupid. Okay?"
Dick swallowed around a lump in his throat. "Okay."
"Now come." Kory gently led. "We will see if Jason is awake and decide what to do then."
The three of them continued on, their pace more sedated, and Dick found himself relaxing more into every step. The anxiety, the blame, the fear - It was different now. There but softly, lulled to sleep by the presence of old memories and comforting familiarity.
I really am a dumbass sometimes. Dick thought to himself as they trekked through the kitchen, no heat to the words when he froze, startled.
Steph looked up, grinning when she spotted him. "Surprise."
"Cass." Dick breathed.
Notes:
I know people were excited about a certain memory being this chapter, but trust me. You needed this one first.
Chapter 43: And Away He Gone Night
Summary:
The Joker War. Roy had called it that.
Except he hadn't.
He'd called this the end of the Joker War.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Cass smiled. It was a gentle thing, a tired thing, and Dick was sure that he could read the slight slump in her shoulders and the bags beneath her eyes as well as she could read the deliberate way he was trying to keep his exhausted anxieties from resurging and overwhelming him.
(Roy and Kory - They helped. They really did, but in these moments, Dick couldn't help but feel the dizzying weight of the Goddess's judgement.)
(He'd had to convince her that he was a bad brother. He never meant to fool himself.)
"I am sorry." Cass said slowly. She didn't say it as she once would have, trying to test out the sounds so foreign to her. Now it was deliberately that she pronounced each syllable as if she knew the pain such words could also unearth.
"I filled her in." Steph said a little less brightly. "It was a long trip from the airport."
"What took so long getting back?" Dick asked. "I mean, everyone else beat you back from the invasion by a long shot, your ride included."
Steph snorted as Cass made a face. "Politics. Bleh."
A sharp breath ripped out of Dick's nose. "Right. Politics."
"You don't have a single clue what she's talking about, do you?" Roy asked.
"Yeah, not a a clue." Dick admitted.
Kory's laugh was loud, infectious mirth making smiles break across faces one by one. Steph couldn't stop her quiet giggles prompting a snort. The laughter was light, more of silly fun than something dark or mean, and Dick couldn't help the way his smile softened.
Roy slid his phone under Dick's nose, the headline boldly proclaiming ANDORRA OPENS BOARDERS TO ITS OWN CITY!
Dick blinked, frowning in confusion as he reread the title. He snatched the phone, frowning as he skimmed the article even as Kory kindly said "If anyone has an excuse as to why they didn't know that Andorra barricaded themselves against their own village, it must be you."
"They believed aliens were still there. Hiding." Cass said, shrugging.
"Figures." Dick said, lips tightening. "So you just stuck around until they figured out everything was okay?"
"Superman helped."
Dick blinked.
It made sense. Dick hadn't seen Clark in some time, not since . . . well, not since Freeze's attack. At the time, he'd been too angry, to wrought, too stretched thin to think, but when the older man disappeared, he hadn't exactly said goodbye.
"I guess things really have been crazy." Dick said gently, trying not to beat himself up for not realizing sooner. "Sorry, Cass. I guess I just assumed you'd stayed back by choice."
Cass shrugged. "No and yes. Good food."
"Aww, man!" Steph frowned. "I was gonna try something before I left, and I forgot!"
"A lot happened that day." Dick said. "Give yourself a break."
"I don't blame myself." Steph scoffed. "I mean, Tim's the one who passed out."
"I do not think that's his fault, either." Kory smiled.
"Sure. That's what he wants you to think." Steph fake scowled.
Dick tried to keep his smile light, but he couldn't help it as his mind spiraled.
(What had Tim seen that Dick didn't know about? Was Tim grappling with memories that Dick didn't know he'd seen? Was he plotting or planning or trying to deal with it alone?)
(And what was Jason seeing within his own mind?)
Cass frowned at him, eyes pouring over him as though she could tell where his mind had started to run off to. However, she didn't say anything or give him away to the others, merely nodding in a way that Dick easily read as quiet support.
"Oh! Be right back." Steph grinned, staring at her phone. Her fingers moved a mile a minute even as she hopped off the counter and maneuvered around everyone and away.
Roy frowned after her. "She have a package?"
Cass shook her head, a little smile on her lips.
Before anyone could ask, Roy's phone rang. Tight lines appeared between his eyebrows as he picked up, moving more into the hallway as he immediately said "Is everything okay with Lian?"
A stone dropped into Dick's stomach, and he exchanged a concerned look with Kory.
"What do you mean? Right now?" Roy hissed.
And Dick knew. He just knew.
"Of course I am! I'm just saying that you need to start scheduling your emergencies better. A guy might assume you don't want to babysit my little terror." Roy said as he stepped back into the kitchen, hanging up. There was no bite in his voice, but his lips were pinched tight as he looked at Dick. "I'm sorry -"
"Don't be." Dick shook his head. "Lian comes first."
Dick started to lead him to the door, Kory on his heels as Roy said "I'll text you. If something - anything happens, call me. And if he doesn't call me, you better."
Kory laughed. "Of course."
Dick rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to pretend you don't exist the moment you walk out the door."
"Better not." Roy grinned, but his smile fell too quickly. Hesitantly, he admitted "I just don't want us to go backwards. I'm tired of wondering, of all the shit in between."
"Don't worry." Dick said a bit softer. "We're going to be okay."
There before the door, the three paused, and Dick was startled when the other man instead of reaching for his hand forcibly dragged him in for a hug. Immediately, Dick gripped him back tightly. Kory gave a soft laugh before her warmth was around both of them, her curls blanketing the three like a protective mother bear cuddling against its cubs.
Maybe the hug dragged too long, but Dick had no regrets when Roy walked out of the door. He stepped out into the sun, Kory behind him in the doorway when his eyes snapped from Roy's retreat towards his motorcycle to Steph and -
And Barbara.
She froze where she stood, falling silent as she stared back before her gaze fell heavily behind him.
It was a strange moment to stand there between the two women he'd separately but wholeheartedly believed he was going to build a life with. He'd had so many milestones and moments that were the same from the first date to getting down on one knee, yet the two women who'd held his heart were as different as night and day.
It was as if the cosmos and the myths amongst the constellations had collided high in the sky. Kory had been all fire and passion, the brightest thing in his world when he'd first truly discovered love, love with pure intention and trust, and Barbara had been a challenge to his mind, his being as she'd managed to logic her way into emotions that were unexplainable during some of the darkest times of his life.
The moon and the sun stared at each other for a long moment, and somehow, Dick felt like the space between.
It was Barbara that broke the stare, steeling herself as she looked at Dick. "Was no one going to tell me that my father had been kidnapped by Deathstroke the Terminator?"
Dick's lips parted, stricken.
Seemingly recognizing the tension, Steph jumped in to take the bullet. "That's my bad. I should've told you when Tim let me know."
Barbara frowned but sighed. "It's okay. But next time, someone really should update me."
Then without a word, she walked past Dick and Kory inside. It wasn't rude, but it was cold as if she couldn't bear to be in their presence.
Dick's eyes fell on Steph, and he wracked his brain for a single moment Tim could have or would have messaged her about the Deathstroke situation, coming up completely empty. He mouthed a silent Thank you. She grinned before mouthing back You owe me one.
He really did.
"Come." Kory said strongly but far from unkindly. "We should see if Jason is awake."
Jason startled to awareness, hard concrete steps digging into his ribs. Groaning he pushed himself backwards, but before he could drag himself to his feet, determined steps came from behind him.
His head snapped to the side, watching as Nightwing, young but still older than the teen draped in leather and bite that the goddess often wore like a wolfskin ripped apart by hunters, stalked forwards. He marched on, not slow in the least but certainly far from real speed. One of his shoulders was bare to the sun, his suit torn and hinting at a history that Jason was completely ignorant of. It was only as he made his way past Jason and though giant, glorious doors of a huge Cathedral that Jason felt his stomach drop.
"Fuck." Jason breathed.
He scrambled to his feet, wracking his mind as he followed through the doors -
Immediately, Jason found his body tensing, a familiar fear anger surging through him as a Joker welcomed Nightwing in. His blood rushed in his ears, covering up the words as he took in the white face and bloodshot eyes. Another Joker was high up on a balcony overlooking a Joker with a glowing green brain -
His hand clenched his gun as his eyes fell on another and another, each more imposing than the last -
The Joker War. Roy had called it that.
Except he hadn't.
He'd called this the end of the Joker War.
And there at the end of the aisle where a priest should stand was true evil.
He was dressed in shining white, his hair done to perfection as if he were the King of Rock and Roll. However, the shiny, gold buttons, the microphone held to those blood red lips, nor even the ridiculous pose he held could distract from the sunshine cape he held up before Nightwing's taut form.
It was in tatters.
Jason's grip on his gun was bruising, but -
But . . .
Jason couldn't do anything.
It was a different kind of helplessness, the kind that set itself apart from crawling on a bloody floor in Ethiopia as a bomb counted down. No, this was an existential threat whispering in Jason's bones that he may as well have not existed, that he didn't exist now -
(But then when she had her hands on you - I was just - I couldn't do anything. Tim had said that night, and as Jason watched the Jokers leer at his brother like he was a lone deer surrounded by hungry hunters, he felt the words in his bones.)
"Ladies and gentlemen, let's all give a big welcome to the first of the boy blunders . . . Robin: Episode One!" The Joker announced before standing and using the destroyed cape to wipe his brow.
Fury bubbled in Jason's stomach as he gritted his teeth, suddenly wondering exactly who had been wearing it when it had been mutilated.
By the curl of Nightwing's lip when Jason slowly came to stand by him, he already knew.
"Jeez, wing-nut . . . You look like somebody died." Joker teased before that giant, haunting grin spread across his face. "Oh, that's right. You lost another little brother recently, didn't you?"
Before Jason could process, could so much as breathe, violence erupted around him. Jokers big and small went after his brother, and when Jason automatically tried to tackle one, he was harshly reminded that he was little more than a ghost. Without breaking his glare, Nightwing did a harsh high kick against one Joker while simultaneously knocking another back with his escrima stick -
"No! No! No!" Joker's voice carried above it all, and Jason spun back towards his murderer only to freeze at the sight of a gun. "You're doing it all wrong! Stupid, stupid, stupid supervillains!"
BANG!
The first shot rang in Jason's ears, but his chest was tight as he watched the monstrous clown unload the full clip at his brother - except that a single bullet never hit him. One caught the biggest of the villains attacking, and he cried out as he fell backwards.
All the while, that monster kept talking. "Is that the best you have? Pummel him to death? No imagination! No flair! Play outside! Move! And don't come in before dinner!"
And Nightwing was kneeling there, looking up at the Joker's tantrum with a hard look.
His face was cold, and Jason was suddenly struck by his silence. Nightwing hadn't so much as said a word - not a joke, a taunt, a curse - nothing. Even as the villains wandered away, leaving the two, Nightwing knelt and just looked up at the clown. Jason didn't know what the other man was thinking in the slightest.
It would be haunting if adrenaline weren't coursing through Jason's tight muscles, through his very mind.
"Now where was I?" the Joker interrupted Jason's thoughts, lowering his empty gun to wave by his face. "Ah . . . The death of Wingding, the former boy-hostage."
Before Jason could breathe, Nightwing was moving.
The Joker tried to dodge out of the way, but he merely tripped forward slightly so that when Nightwing's fist collided with his face he was thrown towards the pews. One of them was completely knocked askew, hitting the floor with an echoing clatter. The Joker's nose spewed blood on his way to the floor as an "Unnh!" was forced out of his lungs.
"This is good. This is goooooooood." whispered a voice behind Jason, and every hair on his body stood on end.
Even as the Joker sat up to try to shoot with his empty gun, fast paced action unfolding before Jason's eyes, something felt wrong. Foreboding. There was a creeping sense that something was different, something was wrong beneath the harsh buzz of watching his brother silently and violently face against the man who'd ripped everything from Jason.
"Aw. All outta buwwets." The Joker said, immediately reverting from the baby talk to his normal, slimy voice. "But that's okay . . . I know a better game."
The Joker jumped to his feet, tossing the gun. Nightwing turned to the side, easily dodging the gun, and even though Jason knew it would go through him, he couldn't help doing the same.
"See, I was planning on having Batman kill me. Suicide by super-hero, see? I'm dying anyway, right?" The Joker grinned, and Jason swallowed, those two sentences far too much for him.
"Suicide by . . ." Jason's voice rasped out.
It was an awful thought, an empty thought. It was like a train driver seeing someone on the tracks miles too late to stop, a car veering out of control when a pedestrian stepped in front of it, calm as could be -
Except it was the Joker, and it wasn't Batman.
It was Nightwing who hadn't even wanted to kill Desmond when he'd driven the hero into decimation -
You lost another little brother recently, didn't you?
Another.
Jason's breath came short, staring at his own hands as the Joker just kept talking.
"So why not get a little blood on his cape in the process? But revenge once removed is sweeter." Jason's gaze forced itself to Nightwing, watching the other man's face stay stony and unimpassioned while his body fell into violence. "It'd really put a twist in his kevlar if one of his litter did the dirty deed. So . . . are you up for a little homicide, handsome? Are you mad enough? Big and bad enough?"
And Nightwing still had that cold look on his face when he sent a roundhouse kick flying at Joker's face.
Jason backed up, chest tight as Joker choked out an "Attaboy!"
"Wing . . ." Jason breathed, because this - it wasn't - Nightwing wasn't -
This was all wrong, and Jason's thoughts were too fast and too slow. He couldn't keep up, but he couldn't stop thinking, and he just kept watching as the Joker dodged a far too clinical punch from Nightwing.
"Hurts so good. But I still don't think you want it enough. Where's that killer instinct, buffalo wing? Where's the rage?" And the Joker clasped his hands together and forced them up together into Nightwing's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "Look, if you can't manage this . . . I'm sure Papa Bat is on his way."
Jason jolted as Nightwing was thrown backwards by the force of Joker's next attack.
"He'll help me along to the great adios. Imagine how mad he'll be if I've whacked two boy wonders on the same day!" The Joker crowed only for Nightwing to catch his fist. "Huh?"
The crunch of the Joker's nose was nearly as loud as the noise he let out. As Nightwing kicked the clown through the destroyed pews, Jason startled when he heard his brother's voice. It wasn't impassioned. It wasn't fiery or angry. It was loud and cold, screaming of hatred but also of words unsaid - as if he were repeating lines in a play instead of actually speaking his own mind. "All the deaths! All the pain! When is enough enough, Joker!?!"
The monster knelt there, bathed in white clothes with soft, warm lights shining down on him from the stained glass windows, and Jason -
Jason hated it. He hated the way the Joker looked like everything he wasn't, because his back wasn't bent out of acceptance, out of humility, out of any form of repentance. This man had no trace of sanity let alone purity, and just looking at him, Jason could see the disappointment screaming out of him.
"Aw . . . jeez . . ." he muttered to the ground, picking at a splinter. "I hit Jason a lot harder than that."
Jason choked, jerking back as though he'd been burned as the Joker lifted his broken face, half of a mad smile still there as he looked Nightwing in the eye.
"His name was Jason, right?"
There was a buzzing in Jason's ears, ringing and whirring and screeching - he couldn't hear anything. All he could do was stare as Nightwing's face finally broke from that awful, forced freeze into something animalistic. His fist raised, and he tackled the Joker, driving him into the ground.
And he was just -
Beating him.
Nightwing's gloves had already been ripped, but Jason watched as the tears grew, as the knuckles and surrounding skin grew irritated, as blood stained the fabric, the ground, Joker -
Even when Joker's head fell back, Nightwing kept going.
Is this what I wanted? Jason thought.
Then through him came Robin, Tim Drake's far younger self in distressed rags that once had been a Robin costume. His sudden appearance shocked Jason's system, sending a cold flood through his veins. He gasped in a breath before he began to choke, coughing and eyes watering.
"- had enough, Nightwing." Tim said urgently.
Nightwing's eyes went wide, horror and blood still marring his expression as he paused mid hit. "Robin?"
"It's me." Tim assured, but Nightwing's teeth gritted, face still strained.
"No . . . You're dead. It's a trick." Nightwing breathed before turning back to the limp body beneath him. "An illusion. Another sick joke!"
"It's me, Nightwing!" Tim cried out, and he was so - he was so small as he used his whole body to grip onto Nightwing's raised arm.
(As small as Jason had been when the Joker had killed him.)
(Maybe even smaller.)
"Stop this!"
And a broken noise built of grief and confusion slipped past Nightwing's lips as his face went slack. The realization that Tim was alive seemed to hit at the same moment that Nightwing realized he was actively fighting against the child, and in a split second, Nightwing had dropped both the Joker and the child beside him -
And was standing directly before Jason, hands clutched to his ears as if he could still hear the clown taunting him -
"What . . . What have I done?"
"Omigod . . . He's dead." Tim said, voice blank.
Nightwing dropped his hands to his side in tight fists, face hard. "I . . . I killed him."
"You killed him." Jason breathed.
He didn't know what to think, couldn't feel anything. His fingers were tingling as if they'd gone numb, and his stomach hurt, but truly, he just couldn't rip his eyes away from Nightwing's face.
He didn't look angry or relieved or happy for getting rid of Jason's murderer -
He looked full of grief, face twisted.
Once . . .
Once Jason would have jumped to blame, get angry that Nightwing wasn't happy that the Joker was gone, but now -
Now Jason looked through Nightwing to Dick and thought It didn't bring me back. I wish it brought me back.
Jason didn't spare a glance for anyone else, even when the Bat himself swept into the stillness of the room. At least, not until -"
"One, two, three, four -"
Jason's attention was ripped back to the floor as darkness crouched over bloodstained white, ripping the demon back out of the fiery pits of hell -
"No." Jason whispered. "No, no, no -"
The prickling numbness, the confusion, the empty buzzing constricted into burning chains, and Jason's knees slammed to the ground as the pit finally broke through. He tried to look up at his brother, but all he could see . . .
Was green.
Notes:
I've rewritten and rewritten, but I know that this was the most long-awaited chapter of this entire story. So instead of trying to perfect it, I'll offer it how I can. I truly hope it's everything you desired. <3
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