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The first few months after Dick finds out about Jason's death are the hardest—not that it will ever be easy to deal with. In a fit of self-hatred and rage, Dick pushes away everyone who cares for him. Alone in Bludhaven, he suffers through his bond flares as some sort of penance for the horrors his would-be-mate suffered, for the horrors he could've protected Jay from and didn’t.
Bond flares are very common in the first six months or so, the pain—both emotional and physical—accounts for the Broken Heart Syndrome that kills the surviving partner so soon after the other in a large percent of the population. After the first six months, bond flares happen sporadically for the rest of a lifetime; these flares can last anywhere from hours to weeks, on occasion, they have been documented to last up to a few months. Bond flares can be caused by anything, usually a specific memory or sensation that reminds the surviving bond member of his or her mate.
For those first few months, Dick and Bruce's relationship becomes even more strained. Despite knowing and seeing the obvious need for closure—what little could be offered—Bruce refuses to allow Dick to even visit Jason's grave.
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When Tim showed up at Dick's apartment asking about Robin, Dick felt the largest bond flare since he learned of Jason's death, and sent Tim away. He couldn’t be Robin again, even if he was willing: Robin was Jason's.
After Tim approaches Bruce—and the chaos that ensues from Tim’s (stalking) knowledge of their identities—and becomes Robin, Bruce settles some. Tim would never be as close to Bruce as Jason was, but he would stand by Batman when necessary, and these days there was more Batman than Bruce.
More balanced and somewhat content, Bruce allows Dick to visit Jason, just not as often as he wanted. These meager visitation rights were the only thing that kept Dick from strangling Bruce and destroying the horrid glass-encased shrine he had made of Jason's uniform as some sort of war-memorial/cautionary-tale for the future.
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Dick makes the effort this time, for the most part, to be a good big brother. In the beginning, his interactions with Tim were awkward and stressful; not in the least due to Tim's near obsession with the second Robin. Part of Dick wants to hate Tim, to prove to him, that the young beta could never good enough for Jason. However, a bigger part of himself wonders if maybe Tim would’ve been better for Jay, would’ve loved him and cared for him as he should've been. Mostly, though, Dick hates himself for being a big reason why Tim would never get to meet Jay, get to experience that all-encompassing passion in everything Jay did.
With Dick and Tim being closer, and Dick agreeing to teach Tim his acrobatics, Bruce—with some not-so-gentle prodding from Alfred—makes an attempt to mend his relationship with his eldest child. They will never be the same, but after a few years—and some challenging times—Dick feels that their relationship has gotten better.
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Even with as civil as they’ve become, Dick knows he will never be forgiven for some of his more self-destructive behaviors.
The first time he encountered the Joker after Jason's death is mostly a blank spot in his memory, one of the few times he has ever allowed his instincts to take over rationality. He was helping Batman while Robin was being forced to wait in the cave.
They were calm, as calm as can be expected given the mass-murdering psychopath who murder a member of their family, prancing about in front of them. Dick was fine, under control. Until the bastard started bragging about clipping the last Robin's wings. After that, it’s a blur of blood and crunching bones; then, Bruce yanking Dick off the bloody mess and flinging him across the room. Personally, Dick thinks he should’ve done worse, should’ve made sure the Joker could never hurt anyone else. Hurting the Joker was the first thing to make the numbness receded into some other than pain. Killing the Joker is not what Dick wants, but Arkham isn’t good enough, he needs to be stopped.
After the Joker came Slade. Dick being reckless and unfeeling left him open to Slade’s onslaught. The flirting had little to no effect, Dick wasn’t really interested in relationships anymore—a bond is forever, even if one person is gone. The blatant propositions, even if he felt like he was betraying Jason, were progressively harder to ignore—at 19 and unmated, he had certain needs to fill. The on-going, random booty-calls are a difficult subject with the rest of the Bat-brood, and some of the heroes, but Dick is tired of the pitying looks from those who know and the concerned looks from those who don’t.
Then comes Blockbuster. He could have saved the man if he tried, but letting him die was better for the city. The guilt still weighs heavy on his conscience. The man was already dying, and destroying Bludhaven, but Nightwing has no right to decide who lives and who dies.
Despite all of that, Dick’s biggest mistake in the last five years is the Red Hood. The man is an anomaly, and Dick never should have let him get so close to destroying Nightwing.
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Despite what most people might think, the worst moment of Jason’s life—up until this point, because a street rat always knows that it can get worse—is not being blown-up or the hours of vicious beating with a crowbar. Nor is it the harsh rejection and bond-induced first heat, or even the Lazarus pit. No, the worst moment of Jason’s life has to be young zombie, catatonic Jason crawling his way out of his own grave, in the throes of the worst heat he has experience since the first—due to six months without suppressants from being, you know, dead and all—alone.
After Talia picks him up and dumps him into the Lazarus pit, he vows to never suffer through heats again. He has no desire for a relationship given the disaster that was his bond; and, not that he would ever tell anyone, he doubts his capability to parent a child considering the stellar examples he had, he will never be so irresponsible as to make a child suffer for his own idiocy.
After going through Talia’s training, and pretending to go along with her ridiculous plan, Jason designs one of his own. He is going to make Bruce and Dick—the two people who were supposed to love and care for him—pay for replacing him, for not even caring that he died.
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The first time Dick met the Red Hood, the man nearly kills him. The fight is a lot of blood and snarling—alphas fighting for dominance—and unfortunately Dick loses. At the end of the fight, the Red Hood flies off with a bitter laugh and spitting hatred, while Nightwing hobbles away with a broken leg and a clear warning that next time the Hood will shoot to kill.
Each encounter with the man has to be handled delicately, to avoid any more serious injuries, and Hood seems to take every precaution to make sure he is never so much as touched. Beyond their encounters, the Red Hood was strange: he built up one of the strongest followings, through completely distasteful means, in the Gotham, even branching into Bludhaven, and then gave them rules about children and women. Also, the people living on the streets praise him for to beating up or killing the abusive pimps and the dealers who sold to kids. If he wasn’t so prone to murder, and didn’t clearly hate the Bats, Dick would almost consider him a vigilante.
Still, somehow it’s a surprise when Nightwing stumbles upon the Red Hood hurt: a nasty shot just between the straps of his body armor and his jacket. The smell of his blood is oddly enticing, something spicy and sweet under all the metal and leather, gun powder, sweat, and suppressants. Dick doesn’t know what possess him to do it, but he removes his own glove and reaches out to the man’s wound.
The connection is instantaneous and just as electric as the first time, and for the second time in his life, Dick runs from his bond-mate.
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Hood disappears for a few days after that, which makes avoiding him all the easier for Dick. It’s a little more difficult to do when he comes back, but it’s clear that Hood doesn’t want anything to do with him either. This bond could be something dangerous, and even though the pain is excruciating, he has lived it all before and will not risk his family for something he doesn’t deserve.
Bonds are supposed to be rare, supposed to last forever. It’s a one in a trillion, or hundreds of trillions, chance for someone to have more than one bond. In all of history, there has been a recorded total of two. Dick doesn’t think he should be allowed to join those ranks, to have another bond, after what he did to Jason. So, despite knowing he shouldn’t, he hides that he re-bonded, doesn’t tell Bruce, and hopes that Red Hood doesn’t use this to hurt them.
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The next time he sees Hood is by far the worst moment of his life.
He followed a distress call from Bruce—from Alfred, on behalf of Bruce, who was watching the cowl’s camera feed—and found an old abandoned apartment building. Just as he was marking the correct window, the entire building explodes in flames and a shower of debris.
Dick rushes to the settling rubble, searching for any sign of life. He finds Bruce, lugging a battered but living Joker under a few smaller pieces of debris. Before he can so much as ask of Bruce’s condition, he is shoved aside and Bruce is frantically digging through the rubble from the other side of the building.
As Dick gets closer, he can he the wheezing, bubbling sounds of a person choking on blood, soft under the crunching, scraping sound of concrete and brick.
When the last bit of debris is lifted, Dick gasps, unable to do more than stare in shock. Below him is the Red Hood, grasping at the large gash, spurting blood, on the side of his neck, a blood-stained malicious smile on his—older, but undeniably familiar—face. Lightly curled black hair, with a strange white streak, matted with blood. Eyes glazed, and little too green, but still Robin’s Egg blue, and spicy-sweet scent from the bloody puddle forming around him. Jason.