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Dick thought it was weird how long it had been since he’d seen Jason, sure, he was known for skipping town for weeks at a time but it had been months and no one had even seen Jay. Reaching out to Kori and Roy hadn’t provided an answer either as neither of them had heard from him during that time either. By this point he’d called Jay’s cell phone so many times that the voicemailbox was full and just hung up the call. Dick can still recall how happy he had been when Jason finally agreed to keep one phone reserved just for him. Had that been with the caveat that Dick only used it for emergencies? Yes, but that didn’t matter because Dick knew if Jason needed him Dick could answer.
He made sure all of his siblings kept at least one phone that he could reach them at ever since he missed Jason’s call before Ethiopia. After Jason had died he couldn’t bring himself to listen to the voicemails he had left him for a long time, dreading what they would contain. He had no way of knowing if they would be the normal, happy ramblings of a much younger Jason or if he’d be in some sort of distress. It took over a year for him to finally listen to the four voicemails that had been left by Jason. The first almost made him laugh, Jason ranting about Bruce being an asshole, a fairly common conversation for the two to have. The next two filled his stomach with dread, hearing the confusion turning into happiness when Jason realized that Catherine wasn’t really his mom but that meant he still had family out there. The final one nearly made him vomit, Jason, so young and filled with joy about meeting his mom, gave Dick all the details about Sheila.
After a few months of calling every day, testing different numbers and even trying different times of day in case Jason was in a different time zone Dick started asking the other Bats if they knew anything about him. Jason was a touchy subject for most of his family, Bruce got that emotionally constipated look, Damian looked like he had smelled something gross, and the rest seemed vaguely uncomfortable even entertaining the thought of him. Unfortunately, not one of them had heard or seen anything about him. Oracle had agreed to help by searching through her databases but that had been fruitless. Last anyone had seen him had been four months prior, when he had assisted Spoiler and Signal with a drug bust. According to those two nothing out of the norm happened that night, barely even remembering the details of what happened.
Dick, knowing that bringing up the fact that Jason may be missing would throw Bruce into a spiral, took it upon himself to look for him. Spending just a few extra hours each week tracking down any clues. But he hadn’t really gotten anywhere, the only thing he could find was an old CCTV camera that recorded him walking into an alleyway and never coming out. No amount of enhancing the picture showed any sign of anyone else in the area. Hopeful at first Dick had raced his way to the alley in question, upon arriving he was greeted with a normal alleyway with nothing helpful in it.
He hadn’t really planned on venturing out to the docks that evening but he had chased a petty thief there before the guy finally gave in and Dick had arrested him. Realizing that he hadn’t been out here in a while he decided to check around the area.
“Hey, O, when was the last time anyone looked around the docks off of 4th and Jefferson?” He didn’t want to impede if one of the Bats was working some sort of case out here he hadn’t heard about.
“Looks like maybe a year ago, not the docks that criminals usually use so I guess no one’s ever felt the need.”
“Hmm, ok, I’m just gonna look around out here then head in for the night, shouldn’t be too exciting.”
“Ok, let me know when you’re done and we can debrief.”
“Thanks, O.”
Clicking the mute switch on his comms he started walking around the area. This dock was solely used by local fishermen and the Gotham Coast Guard station so there wasn’t a whole lot to see this late at night, just a couple members of the Coast Guard going about their daily tasks. The first three warehouses he checked out were nothing special, one was abandoned and he didn’t see anything in it, the other two stored fish before they went to market. He quickly left the last two, nose wrinkled at the smell. The final warehouse was a little further than the first three, he almost didn’t want to make the trip over to it, ready to head home for the night and sleep.
Deciding it was better to just get the job done now that he was here Dick trudged over towards the final building. Hoping up so he could glance in a window he scanned the inside. At first glance he didn’t see anything abnormal, just a chair and some old pipes, looking closer he could see some staining on the floor and the chairs. He figured it was likely rust or mold but decided he should check it out just to be sure. He opened the window, breaking the lock with practiced ease, and slid in through the narrow opening. Dick slid down from the upper walkway to the ground. His nose, still traumatized from the fish, took a second to catch the scent of old blood and decay. It wasn’t something that you could ever forget, the rotting meat mixed with the sharp hint of iron and the sickly sweet undertones giving away that something had died in here as soon as he processed what he was smelling.
He was on edge now, he knew it was likely just some animal that had gotten unlucky and died but he still took an extra moment to scan the entire warehouse, checking each corner top to bottom, just in case. Upon finding nothing he walked forward, trying to cover his nose to prevent the smell from seeping in. Once he got closer to the pile of metal pipes he saw an arm sticking out. A rotting, half decomposed arm, but a human arm all the same. He could tell just from looking at it that the person was long dead, at least a month, or more. He kicked some of the pipes out of his way, toeing them so as not to kick the person. When enough pipes were out of the way he slipped a pair of surgical gloves from his belt, snapping them onto his hands.
Reaching down he gripped the person’s shoulder, clearly they had been a broad and muscular person when alive. The thin black shirt they had one was stretched tight across their shoulders even in death. Heaving them over was a struggle, but if he had any hope of identifying the person and notifying the family he needed to see their face, at least what was left. He finished flipping the person, taking a moment to catch his breath. As he opened his eyes he realized he was staring at a very familiar shirt, a concert shirt for some band Jason had liked. The same shirt Jason had been wearing when he walked into that alleyway. Now struggling to breathe for a whole new reason Dick steeled himself to look up, not wanting to see his greatest fear brought to life.
A glance up confirmed what he already knew. A shock of white hair stood out amongst black, thick curls. Blinking rapidly, his eyes filled with tears as he took in Jason’s mangled form. He was rotting but there were wounds everywhere, clearly occurring prior to his death. Dick wasn’t quite sure how he ended up sitting on the ground, time was moving around him but he felt locked in the moment. He could hear himself talking, screaming, crying, but he couldn’t hear anything, even himself, over the ringing in his ears. He must have, at some point, hit his distress beacon, a response trained into him by Bruce, because soon the comms were filled with chatter. People were clearly asking if he was ok but all he could do was wail in reply.
The doors flung open sometime later. He never responded where he was so the Bats had had to search the entire area around the docks before stumbling across him. He could feel steps racing towards him, Bruce’s, if the weight of them was anything to go by. Dick didn’t bother to acknowledge Bruce once he was next to him, only continuing his sobbing. At some point he had started combing his fingers through Jay’s hair, trying to comfort him even though he was long dead. He didn’t know how long he sat there, he’d felt Bruce drop to his knees beside him at some point, he only knew when someone tried to pull him away. He struggled against them, throwing around his weight to try to get free. He didn’t need to leave. No, he deserved to be here, he deserved to rot here with his now dead, again, baby brother.