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Jason’s feet were welded to the catwalk, and had been for the last ten minutes.
On the floor of the warehouse below, a greenhorn vigilante lay broken. More than likely bleeding out, if not already dead.
He could only barely remember the kid’s powers, only knowing Static from a cursory glance at his file, nearly six months ago.
Hawkins operated out of Dakota, what the hell had a midwesterner been doing in Bludhaven?
But here they were, with the perpetrator standing over Static’s soon-to-be-corpse, bloodied escima in hand. Then Nightwing turned, looked right up to the rafters, seeming to catch Jason’s eye, and smiled.
Jason’s skin crawled.
"Hey there, Jaybird." Any hope that maybe the Nightwing he'd been watching was somehow not Dick Grayson slipped out of him like fine sand through grasping fingers. It left him feeling cold and empty.
This is Dick- it was Richard Grayson and he'd just killed someone.
But wait, some tiny part of his gasping hindbrain spoke up. Maybe he had a reason!
Maybe Hawkins was secretly a horrible person, Jason desperately rationalized, a rapist or a human trafficker.
Anything to justify the violence he's just witnessed.
But while Jason's brain had been breaking, Dick had been climbing up to meet him, movement smooth as ever regardless of the blood coating his gloves.
"I really wish you'd left earlier, Jay," he croons as he approaches, boots clanking on the metal catwalk. "You shouldn't have had to see all of that." As if Jason hadn't seen worse, done worse.
Jason barely pulls himself together enough to croak a response. "Figured you deserved a chance to explain yourself."
"Aww, that's sweet. I appreciate it Jaybird." The words are right, Jason almost believes it. But it’s too sweet, too caring . This is a serious matter, Dick should be talking in grave and solemn tones, like he did when he drunkenly confessed to Jason about killing the Joker. (Besides, Dick had never bothered to give Jason the cloying Big Brother act before.)
But Dick wasn't grave and solemn. He also wasn’t having an emotional breakdown over the moral weight of taking a life.
It hits him like a brick. "You've done this before."
The soft and caring smile sharpens to a smirk, even as Jason takes a step back. "You're so clever , Jay.”
For every step back, Dick moves a step forward.
"Everybody pins Tim as the detective- and he's got an eye for detail, sure, but you've always had a knack for people and their tells.”
Jason can't think, can barely breathe around all the alarm bells ringing in his head, the adrenaline coursing through his body.
"But just this once you’re mistaken, Jaybird, because I didn't do anything tonight."
What-
Dick surges forward, and Jason tries to spin away, dodge a blow, but none lands. And then there's a BANG as his gun goes off.
Below them, Hawkins screams, somehow both not-dead and conscious .
"You did."
"No," Jason stammers. " No , I- You- "
"I nothing , Jaybird." Dick spits, " I got here just too late, I tried to save poor Virgil from the big bad Hood ."
"No!"
"Yes!" Dick barks back, crowding Jason against the railing. "Oh, there was no warning, B! Poor Jaybird just went berserk !" The madman acted it out and, ever the performer, sounding genuinely stricken. "Maybe it was Pit Madness, maybe he snapped under the pressure of following all the Bats rules. Maybe there was no reason, maybe he just enjoyed it!"
"Never!" Jason roared, trying to make himself bigger, to loom over Dick and maybe scare away that smile on his face. "I'll show them," he snarled. "Mask footage, the comms' black box recordings, there are cameras all over the place! You did this, I have proof !"
Dick laughed . "Do you? Think again, Jaybird. Have any of your electronics worked since you started following me?" Horror slid down his spine as he realized, just then, that he hadn't heard a single check-in message over the comms, despite being on the open catch-all channel for Oracle. "I've got my bases covered, as far as surveillance goes. And even if you tell them, who do you think they'll believe?"
"Stop-"
"The broken, murderous, fallen Robin ?”
"SHUT UP!"
“Or their 'golden boy'?"
Jason roared at this fun-house mirror version of his brother, swinging desperately. Dick was right , after all. Without proof, no one would believe that the man shot with a bullet from Jason's gun wasn't Jason's kill. Not when there wasn't immediate, concrete evidence to the contrary.
Dick was like water, slipping just out of reach for every punch Jason tried to throw, still smiling wide and sharp.
He grew bored of the taunting quickly, though, and surged forward again. He grabbed Jason’s arms and twisted, using his momentum against him and slamming him to the ground. All of the air left his lungs, and he lay there gasping, praying he wasn't about to end up just like the man on the warehouse floor.
But Dick didn't go for the kill. He didn't reach for a batarang to cut or stab. He didn't pull out his escrima to beat or electrify. He just leaned down and spoke, quietly. "I'm going back to the cave tonight, Jay. I'm going to tell them, and when I do? They won't want you anymore." He was smiling softly, like he hadn't just murdered a man and immediately framed someone for it. Like he wasn't tearing Jason apart. "B has given you so many chances, Jaybird. And he's so tired of it . If you go back to Gotham, he's going to finish what I started, and make sure you never see outside Arkham's walls."
He holds Jason's hand in both of his, blood soaking into his gloves as he strokes his fingers consolingly.
"So I'm gonna give you a gift , Jaybird. For old times sake, because hiding this from you was such a wonderful challenge." He leverages Jason to his feet, all 220-odd pounds of him, and pats his shoulder like they're still friends, still brothers, just having a talk. " Fly away , Jaybird. Get a head start before the Bat hunts you down."
And Jason-
Jason goes.