Chapter Text
It’s nearly midnight in Blüdhaven when someone knocks on Dick’s door.
Not the roof entrance. Not his comms. A knock, sharp and panicked, shaking the frame like whoever’s on the other side is seconds away from collapse.
Dick doesn't hesitate. Years of patrol have burned instincts deep into his bones, and by the time his hand's on the lock, he's already scanned the hallway through the peephole. It’s dark. Empty. But then—
Another knock. This one softer. Weaker.
He opens the door and the world tilts.
Jason’s standing there.
Or- barely standing. His posture’s hunched, like gravity is dragging him down by the shoulders. Blood streaks his jacket, the edges torn and singed with dust and soot. One arm is clutched protectively across his chest, and the other is braced against the wall for support. His helmet is gone, exposing the too-familiar face Dick had mourned and buried in the costume of a crime lord.
It takes Dick a second to understand what he’s seeing.
A second longer to process how .
And then Jason sways on his feet.
“Jay?” Dick breathes, stepping forward fast enough to catch him.
Jason flinches.
Actually flinches - recoiling like a hand raised in comfort might land as a strike.
Dick freezes, arms half-out, swallowing the sharp rush of pain that stabs through his chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe, Jason. It’s me.”
Jason shakes his head almost violently. His mouth opens like he wants to speak- wants to explain- but nothing comes out except a ragged, dry wheeze.
Only then does Dick see the bandages around his throat. Pink with seeping blood. Messy, like they were thrown on in a hurry and never changed.
“Oh, shit. ”
He eases forward slowly this time, hands open and visible. Jason’s eyes are wide- not just dazed but full-on terrified . The kind of fear Dick remembers from Arkham, from survivors of real monsters. Not the kind that should ever live behind the eyes of his brother.
“You’re safe,” Dick says again, quieter. “Can I help you inside?”
Jason doesn’t nod, doesn’t speak- just sort of crumples, and Dick moves fast enough to catch him again. He’s trembling. The shakes are fine, near-constant, like his body is still stuck in a fight it barely escaped from.
Dick grits his teeth. Whatever this is- whatever happened- he’s going to fix it.
He gets Jason onto the couch and wraps a blanket around him, switching out blood-soaked bandages with sterile gauze from the med kit. Jason doesn’t fight him. Doesn’t do much of anything except stare at the floor like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
The silence is thick. Jason’s breathing is shallow. Too fast.
“Hey. Breathe with me, Jay. Just- match me, okay?”
He demonstrates, slow inhale, slower exhale, and when Jason doesn’t follow, he tries again.
“Come on, you’ve got this. In-” Jason’s hand shoots out suddenly, gripping Dick’s arm like a lifeline. His lips move.
No sound.
Dick cups the back of his head gently, guiding their foreheads together.
“You don’t have to talk. You’re safe here. Whatever happened, we’ll figure it out.”
Jason squeezes his arm again.
Dick doesn’t ask about the bruises. Not yet. He doesn’t ask about the fear in Jason’s eyes when he says the word safe or why the name Bruce seems to curl his brother’s whole body into itself like a wounded animal.
All of that can come later.
For now, Jason is here. Alive. Terrified, yes, but here.
Dick wraps his arms around him and holds on.
“I’ve got you, little wing,” he whispers. “You’re not alone anymore.”
Jason hadn’t said a word, but he didn’t need to. The whole weight of him was unraveling, right there on the couch. A trembling hand clenched the blanket so tight his knuckles whitened. His breathing was faster now, almost panting- shallow inhales through his nose, like he was trying not to make a sound.
And then his body just- sagged.
It was subtle at first. A shift of weight. Shoulders dipping, spine curling tighter. But then it came all at once- like something inside him gave up. Like the thread holding him together snapped under its own tension.
Jason folded forward, hands pressed to his face, and shuddered hard.
Not a single sob. Not a single word.
But he was shaking , full-body now, like he was freezing from the inside out.
Dick moved instinctively. He didn’t touch him right away, just leaned closer and dropped his voice into that gentle rhythm he’d used when they were younger and Jason got overwhelmed.
“Hey, hey- breathe with me. Just listen, okay? You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
Jason’s fingers gripped his hair, pulling tight. His jaw clenched around something invisible. And he still didn’t make a sound.
The silence scared Dick more than anything.
He moved to kneel in front of him, placing both hands on Jason’s knees, grounding, not gripping. His eyes flicked up and down his brother’s frame now that he had time to look. Really look.
He almost wished he hadn’t.
Jason was- God, he was different . Not just older. Not just taller. He’d grown, yeah- broad in the shoulders, heavy with muscle- but he looked wrong , somehow. Off-balance. His cheeks were hollow. His collarbones jutted a little too sharp under the ruined jacket. There were bruises peeking out from his sleeves, old ones, layered like he hadn’t let any of them heal before picking up new ones.
And the scars.
Dick had seen plenty of scars in his time, but this was personal . These weren’t training nicks or patrol accidents. These were surgical. Brutal. The kind of marks left when someone dies and doesn’t stay dead.
His breath caught. “Oh, Jay…”
Jason was still trembling. His lips parted again like he was trying to say something- trying so hard - but his throat seized halfway and no sound came out. Just a small, wet gasp like his own body was betraying him.
Dick felt his heart seize. He climbed onto the couch beside him, slowly, deliberately, and put an arm around his shoulders.
“Come here. You don’t have to hold it in.”
Jason didn’t lean in.
He collapsed.
His body pitched sideways, nearly limp with exhaustion, head landing against Dick’s chest like all the strings holding him upright had snapped. He didn’t cry- didn’t make a noise- but the tremors worsened as his breath hitched and stuttered. His hands clung to Dick’s hoodie, fisting it like it was the only solid thing in the world.
Dick held him. Arms secure. One hand rubbing slow circles on Jason’s back.
The layers were thinner than they should’ve been. He could feel every bone in his spine. Every rib that stuck out just a little too much. The kid hadn’t been eating. Or sleeping. Maybe not even stopping long enough to try.
“You’re okay,” Dick murmured. “You’re okay now. I promise. You don’t have to run anymore.”
Jason made a sound then- finally. Not a word. Not even a whimper. Just a short, broken exhale that shook like he’d been holding it in for days. Weeks. Maybe longer.
He didn’t move again. Didn’t lift his head. His body, too big now to fold like it used to, curled against Dick anyway. His knees drew up instinctively, just enough to tighten into a defensive ball. He buried his face in Dick’s chest, breath still stuttering, and let himself be held.
Dick rested his chin on top of Jason’s head. One hand threaded carefully into his hair- not tugging, just keeping close.
“Jesus, Jay… what the hell did he do to you…”
He felt it- the flinch at the word he. Jason didn’t have to speak. That was answer enough.
Jason’s breathing slowed gradually.
It didn’t even feel like rest at first- more like his body had given up . But eventually, the stuttering exhales settled. The tension in his muscles bled out, little by little. His weight became heavier against Dick’s side. One hand still curled in the fabric of Dick’s hoodie, but the grip had loosened, fingers twitching now and then like whatever dream had taken hold wasn’t entirely safe either.
He was asleep- or unconscious. Honestly, Dick couldn’t tell. But it was the stillest Jason had been since he walked through the door, and that had to count for something.
Dick adjusted their position carefully, easing Jason down onto the couch with slow, practiced motions. He tugged the blanket up around his shoulders again and took a long moment just watching- counting every breath, every flicker of movement. Just to be sure.
When he was satisfied Jason wasn’t going to stop breathing or bolt upright in a panic, he stood, grabbed his phone, and stepped into the kitchen. Every part of him buzzed with unease. There were bruises on Jason’s ribs . On his neck . The bandages had been rushed- not even aligned properly. Whoever had patched him up wasn’t thinking straight. Probably Jason himself.
It was a miracle he’d made it this far.
Dick leaned back against the counter and unlocked his phone.
He needed answers.
He opened a secure channel and pinged Tim first. Safe bet. Less likely to loop Bruce in. If anything, Tim would be too caught up in whatever Bat-case he was unraveling to even look up.
[1:23 AM] Nightwing:
Tim. You awake?
It took a minute.
[1:25 AM] Robin:
Always. What’s going on?
[1:25 AM] Nightwing:
Something happen in Gotham? Past few days? Something big?
There was a longer pause this time. Dick chewed on his thumbnail and glanced toward the living room. Jason hadn’t moved.
[1:27 AM] Robin:
Bruce was weird all week. Moodier than usual. Something’s been eating him since like Tuesday. I asked but he wouldn’t tell me.
[1:27 AM] Robin:
Didn’t take it out on me or anything, just… off. Silent broody mode turned up to eleven. Why?
Dick hesitated.
[1:28 AM] Nightwing:
Just had a weird feeling. Wondered if something went down.
[1:28 AM] Robin:
I’ll check the logs in the morning. You think he’s hiding something?
[1:29 AM] Nightwing:
Wouldn’t be the first time.
He didn’t answer Tim’s follow-up ping right away.
Next, he called Barbara. She picked up on the third ring, her voice low, tired but alert.
“Hey. Something wrong?” Dick exhaled through his nose.
“Not sure yet. You hear anything from Gotham the last few nights? About Bruce?”
“Besides him being the usual brick wall of communication?” she asked, a trace of dry humor in her voice. Then it softened. “He sent me off duty early two nights ago. Said he had something to handle alone. No reason given. No comms, either. I assumed it was just one of his spiral nights.”
Dick swallowed. “No uploaded cowl footage?”
“Not yet. He hasn’t synced anything to the network since then. Why? What’s going on, Dick?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face.
“I just… have a hunch something went really wrong. I can’t get into it yet. But if you do get access to that footage- don’t send it to him. Not yet.” Barbara was quiet for a beat.
“You think something happened to him?” she asked, not accusing, just careful.
“I think he did something,” Dick said, voice low.
And he felt it then, deep in his gut, that tangled mix of betrayal and fury that only Bruce could evoke. He hadn’t seen the fight. Hadn’t heard a word from Jason’s mouth- but he’d seen the aftermath. He’d held it- and that was enough.
Barbara exhaled. “Alright. I’ll let you know if anything comes in. You okay?”
“I don’t know,” Dick said honestly. “But thanks, Babs.”
He hung up.
The silence in the apartment was thick. Jason’s breathing was still audible from the couch- soft and uneven. Dick padded back over and crouched beside him again, watching the pale bruises under his jaw. His chest clenched.
Whatever had happened that night, it had destroyed his brother all over again. And no one even knew he was alive to care. Dick wasn’t about to change that. Not yet. Bruce had lost the right to know where Jason was-
At least for now.