Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The code system, something they created back during their Titan years. Sent when something was wrong. They had created it originally for Dick with Code Blue, meaning their Fearless-Leader was working himself too hard (named after Dick’s unspoken favorite pillow from the couch in the Titan base). 

It expanded over the years, still mostly due to Dick, but they have all had their own instances of the code being called. 

Code Yellow: Low on vital life support (Wally was ACTUALLY starving or Garth wasn’t getting enough water). Both situations happen more than once hence the code. Created after the first time Wally stopped eating because someone was bullying him at school. 

Code Green: someone is sick. Used mostly for Dick and occasionally Roy. Dick got better over time, but it was a hard-won battle to get their leader to rest. 

Code Seafoam Green: Someone was homesick (was mostly used for Garth or Donna). Named after a joke from Wally - later shortened to Code: SFG. 

Code Red: hidden injury (again, usually Dick and occasionally Roy). Same vein as Code Green just for a different issue. 

As they got older the code got a little more specific - a little bit darker. 

Code: B - Bruce/Batman pulled some shit

Code Orange - Roy relapsed 

Code S - Slade started skulking around

Code Lavender - Wally was having a “crisis” with the twins

Code Indigo - Wally was actually having a crisis with the twins 

The list was long, some fun and some not so much. But it was the Titan way. 

It started with a group text from Garth, between him, Wally, Roy, and Donna. 

Tuesday 8:37 pm

Fish-R-Us: Code Burgundy - D

Burgundy – named after the color of dried blood. Means kidnapping with signs of a struggle. 

D for Dick Grayson. 

                         Tuesday 8:37 pm

                        Fast-N-Hungry: Where?

                        Fish-R-Us: Apt.

                        WonderTwin2: … (typing)

                        Fast-N-Hungry: OMW

                        WonderTwin2: … (typing)  

Roy was a little concerned by Donna’s continued typing but not sending. 

                         Tuesday 8:38pm

                        Cupid:OWM

                        WonderTwin2: … (deleting) 

He hit send, going for his closest to grab gear. Roy was testing his bowstring when his phone buzzed again. 

                         Tuesday 8:40 pm

                        Fish-R-Us: I apologize Roy. This was sent to the wrong group chat. 

                        WonderTwin2: Don’t worry about it

                        WonderTwin2: We’ll figure it out. 

                        Cupid: What?

                        Cupid: Hello?

                        Cupid: Someone tell me what is going on. 

                        WonderTwin2: … (typing)

                        Fish-R-Us: We will let you know if backup is required. 

                        WonderTwin2: ^^

Roy started calling them immediately, shooting off multiple text messages to both individual numbers and the group chat. He grew in hostility, as his temper – concern, and frustration – bubbled under the surface. He worked himself up, packing his gear and taking his bike to the closest zeta tube. He kept the fire burning through the drive, pulling down the street to Dick’s apartment building. He ripped the helmet off, ready to storm up the front steps only to come to a quick stop. 

The apartment building was gone. The whole block was an empty hole, lined with a flimsy gate. The front steps of the building still stood; the top of the stairs was blocked with a sheet plyboard, plastered with notices of condemnations dating back over a year. 

The burning heat doused in cold dread. He pulled his phone out again, tapping out a message to the group chat. He typed out a few messages before settling on one. 

                         Wednesday 1:01 am

                        Cupid: What happened to Dick’s building?

Donna flickered between typing and deleting a few times before Wally responded. 

                         Wednesday 1:02 am

                         Fast-N-Hungry: U there now?

                         Cupid: Yes

Roy felt the light breeze then the warm presence of Wally at his side. “What are you doing here, Roy?” he asked in greeting eyes towards the sky.  His voice sounded cautious, but familiar in a way that made Roy realize just how long it has been. 

He followed the speedster's gaze, to where Dick’s window should have been. “What do you mean?” he growled, “Garth sent out a Code, and then I was told to ignore it. Why wouldn’t I be here?”

 “Because you were told to ignore it.” Wally repeated back, “Because you haven’t answered a code in months.” He took a seat on the front steps. “Because you’ve made it very clear to all of us that you don’t give two shit’s about Dick. And by extent, you don’t really care for the rest of us either.” Wally shrugged, voice calm and steady. “You can pick one.”

“I don’t know-“

There was a flash of anger across Wally’s face before smoothing out again, causing Roy to pause. It was a move they have all seen on Dick, but never from Wally. 

“We aren’t stupid.” Wally continued, “Dick won’t talk about it. Only says it’s his fault. But that doesn’t mean much.”  He waved a hand as if to say ‘you know how it is. 

Roy does. 

“You stopped showing at brunch. Stopped agreeing to plans or answering codes. You said on multiple occasions you won’t go if Dick is there.” Roy flinched at the harsh undertone of his friend's voice, “Dick stopped going for a while. Said you should be able to see your friends. But you still didn’t want to show up. Donna ended up dragging him back.”

Two blocks down a car alarm went off, stopping just as abruptly.  

“I’m not going to make you tell me, dude,” Wally said, he sounded tired now. “Our lives, in general, and because of our choices, are probably going to be short.  I don’t want to spend it fighting with people I consider my family. I would listen if you wanted to,” he added.

Roy avoided eye contact but could feel Wally’s gaze. He took a few tentative steps towards the steps and took a seat at the other man’s side. “You know, I don’t remember what started it.” He glanced around at the street, rubbing his sweaty palms on his knees. “I don’t think I was completely sober,” Roy admitted in a whisper. “We got into an argument. He took up the cape. You and Donna were gone. Garth was off in Atlantis.” 

Wally scooted a little closer, not touching, but just enough that Roy could feel some of his body heat. 

“We got into an argument that just escalated. We’ve always been good at hitting below the belt.”

Wally snorted, muttering something that sounded like “understatement”.

“We just stopped talking for a while,” Roy ignored him. “I ended up with Jason and Kory working together as the Outlaws. Things just kept going from there.”

Wally cringed, “Jason and Dick have a difficult relationship,” he translated, “And Kory will always be a complicated, sore spot for him.”

“Then Dick died,” Roy continued, “And I realized my younger brother was gone. I didn’t get my head out of my ass long enough to fix that bridge.”

“But he is back,” Wally said, frowning again in confusion. 

Roy was standing again, fists clenched at his sides. “He faked his death.” Roy hissed. “He put us all through hell to go off on a little adventure. He lied to us. Lied to his family. I had to watch Jason fall apart after he ‘died’ and again after he came back.” His chest was heaving. “After everything, he still pulls a Bruce. Puts the mission before us.”

Wally’s frown grew the entire time, leaving his expression thunderous. “Go home, Roy.” He said standing himself. He dusted off his pants, attempting to school his features into something a little less furious. “We found him. He’ll be fine eventually.”

Roy felt as if the rug was pulled out from under him. “Wait, Wally?” He tried to grab the other’s arm, but Wally easily dodged out of the way.

“I promised Dick I wouldn’t turn this into an argument,” Wally said with a slow, calming breath. “It’s the reason Donna isn’t here. And I beat out Garth because I’m faster and he’s better with medical.” He took another in and out. “But man, if you think Dick Grayson would ever willingly put the mission before his family, then you clearly don’t know him.” 

The certainty in Wally’s voice caught any argument in Roy’s throat.  His heart was pounding, something nagging at the back of his mind.  Wally was watching him again, He could see something in his face, not that Roy knew what. The other man placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder. 

“Go home, Roy,” Wally said again, giving his shoulder a small squeeze. “If you're still up for it, we can talk later when it isn’t so late.”

Roy nodded, letting Wally herd him back to his bike. 

“Roy,” Wally called, just before he could start the bike. He looked hesitant. “Just think about everything. And remember we have Code B for a reason.” He waited just long enough for Roy to nod, before disappearing down the street. 

Roy drove home, head buzzing. He dumped his gear at the door, stripping shoes and pants on his way to bed. He collapsed in nothing but his boxers and shirt. 

Wally’s voice looped in his head.  

If you think Dick Grayson would ever willingly put the mission before his family, then you clearly don’t know him.

Remember we have Code B for a reason.

Dick Grayson would ever willingly put the mission before his family

We have Code B for a reason.

Willingly put the mission before his family.

We have Code B.

Willingly

Code B

Chapter Text

Roy was spread out in front of the TV, a half-full carton of orange juice hanging from his hand. Season three of "Friends" played as background noise. His eyes were unfocused as his mind drifted over the last few years. 

A banging sound came from his front door, followed by Jason yelling for him to open up. Then more banging and yelling about how he knows Roy is in there, and he can hear the TV. It quiets again when his neighbor Mrs. Henderson - who has three cats that like to sneak into Roy's apartment even though the building has a no pet policy- opens up to tell Jason to quiet down. 

They chat for a little bit, Jason always had a way with Mrs. H, then he waits just long enough for her to go back into her apartment and picks Roy's lock. 

"The Fuck?" Jason greeted, like this isn't a typical Thursday. 

Roy groaned, taking another swig of OJ, knocking it back the same way someone would take a shot from a whiskey bottle. He tuned into the TV in time to see the gang try to poke the possibly dead Fat Naked Man with a makeshift pole of chopsticks and other things from around the apartment. 

He snorted, Wally loves this one. 

"You have vodka in that or something?" Jason asked, watching with a critical eye. 

"Nope, just the juice that came in it." Roy went for another drink, but Jason snatched it from his hands. The younger man sniffed it then took a sip for himself. 

"It really is just OJ." He said, surprised. 

"Yep," Roy took the offered carton back. Making a show of wiping off Jason's germs from the mouth. 

Jason snorted, "Then what's wrong with you?"

Roy gave a half-shrug. 

"Are you on something? Are you sick?" Jason pressed, "You got to give me something."

"It's nothing man, just thinking."

"Blew a gasket?" Jason's joke falling flat. There is a tense moment of silence. "Wanna talk about it?" He was uncomfortable, edging towards panic. It was a stark contrast to Wally’s calming presence last night... earlier that morning.

Roy knows Jason cares, but he was more about action. He didn't want to talk about things, and usually neither did Roy. It’s why they worked together so well.

"Not right now." Roy pulled himself into an actual sitting position and turned down the volume on the TV to a nice hum. "What's up?" 

"I need a beer for this," Jason started, already standing. 

Roy waved him towards the kitchen, calling no when Jason offered to grab him one. 

He came back with a beer, placing an empty glass next to Roy. "Don't be a heathen," he instructed, pointing to the orange juice then the glass. 

Roy rolled his eyes, maintaining eye contact while taking another drink from the carton just because he can. "What's got you all wound up?" 

"Goldie and the Demon Brat," Jason huffed, collapsing into the hair again. Roy perked at Dick's nickname, but the other didn't seem to notice. "We had a drug busy scheduled for the day before yesterday, B called in everyone on Sunday. He wanted to come together to discuss the plan, typical Bat paranoia." 

Roy nodded in understanding but Jason was too swept up in his rant. 

"Wing went back to Blud that night and the shit never came back." 

Roy felt as if he was doused with a bucket of ice water. 

"We had to change the plan last minute and the little shit wouldn't shut up about something probably being wrong with Grayson." 

Because something was, his mind whispered. 

Jason kept talking "Goldie finally texted earlier today. Apologizing for bailing but he wouldn't tell us what happened."

This was the part where Roy usually jumped in, this was a practiced conversation. Jason would complain and Roy would agree and tack on his own two cents. 

Roy wondered just how many of these stories were missing the important pieces of information. How many times has he been pulled into and wrapped up in a story, that had an honest explanation no one wanted to hear from Dick. 

He didn't show up because he was kidnapped and I am 75% sure he was being tortured, Roy didn't say. 

"Do you have access to footage from the Batcave?" He asked instead. 

Jason blinked "Why?" 

There's a reason we have Code B.

"I need to see something." Roy didn't want to explain, probably couldn't explain. He didn't want Jason to see this if he was right, but Roy knows he can't get in himself. 

"If you want to watch some drama turn on a soap opera." Jason looked uncomfortable again. 

"I know this is weird, I do." Roy was suddenly desperate, the feeling if he didn't do this now, he would never get the nerve to try again. "But just, if I'm right you'll understand."

Jason hesitated for just a moment, "Don't know what is so important that you need to creep on my family." He muttered, pulling the bag he brought with him and grabbing his computer. 

Dick is my family too, he didn't say. 

WILLINGLY 

"What am I looking for?" Jason asked. 

Roy listed off a date that will forever be burned in his mind. Jason gave pause, "The day Dick fake died?" His voice was rough. 

"And a few days after." Roy said, "I can take it from there. Like I said once I verify-" he swallowed, "If I'm wrong I'll buy drinks for the next month." He itched to snatch the computer from his friend's hands but held himself back.

"Roy."

"Next two months." 

"ROY!"

"What?" 

Jason glanced up from the screen, eyes wide. "There isn't anything here." 

There was a sinking feeling in Roy's chest. 

There's a reason we have Code B. 

"There's two weeks of missing footage. But if you look at footage before that point and after you can see some changes. The window of the batmobile is smashed. And you can see cracks in some of the display cases. The sparring mats were moved, looking recently scrubbed clean." Jason trailed off. Any other moment Roy would have been proud of Jason showing off his detective skills. But not when he was solving something like this. 

"Roy, what are you looking for?" Jason asked. He had a white knuckle grip on the computer. 

"I don't know," he admitted in a whisper. 

"What were you expecting?" The computer let out a grown, straining under the pressure of Jason's hold.

Willingly 

Roy opened and closed his mouth a few times before settling on the closest thing to an honest answer, "The truth."

Chapter Text

Roy didn’t know what to think, and now that Jason was aware something was wrong it was only that much more complicated. See, Roy didn’t know how to explain it, even if he wanted to. He doesn’t, just for the record, but that was beside the point. 

There is no easy way to tell your best friend that their older brother is your younger brother and you think their father figure did something - again you don’t know what - to injure said older/younger brother.  

Oh yeah, and their youngest brother was correct about their oldest brother. He was kidnapped and probably being tortured but no one will tell you anything and you can’t really blame them given the situation. 

See, not easy... God, life was so simple 48 hours ago. 

“The truth about what?” Jason asked, still tense. 

Roy took a breath, “It’s..." He sighed, "I received a message last night from Garth that sent me to Bludhaven. I had a short conversation with Wally that made me rethink some things.”

Jason huffed, “Stop beating around the bush,” he snapped. 

Roy stood and took to pacing behind the couch. Work backward, Roy decided, list what he knows then go from there. “Damian was right.” He announced, then internally winced. Not the best starting point. 

This was enough to give Jason pause, the younger man’s face blanking for just a moment. 

“Someone took Dick. Before you ask, I don't know the details. Hell, I only know that much by accident.” Roy continued. He walked the length of the room from front door to window and back. “Garth sent a group message to the original Titans.”

“What the fuck does that mean? How was that an accident? You’re an original Titan.” 

In any other situation, Roy would be touched at the offense his friend was taking on his behalf. It wasn’t that easy though.  Roy pulled at his hair, “I am or was, but I haven’t exactly been acting like for a long time,” he admitted. “And I can’t blame them for still assuming I wouldn't care.”

Jason’s frown deepened, his grip on the computer lessened, now just loose in his hands. “What does that have to do with the missing footage?”

Roy waved him off, “I’m getting there,” he grumbled, “Garth basically sent an SOS. Then they told me to ignore it, but I went anyway.  I couldn't just pretend he didn’t call a burgundy.”

“Burgundy?” Jason echoed, he was watching Roy with pinched eyes and a scowl.

“It’s code, kidnapping with signs of struggle.” Roy could see the younger man starting to put the pieces together.  “I went to Bludhaven - went to where I thought Dick’s apartment was only to find a fucking crater.”

Jason stiffened slightly, “An uh...” he cleared his throat “someone blew up his old building like two years ago.”

“Shit, that long?” Roy muttered, his shoulders sagging with another piece of guilt weighing him down.  

Jason nodded mutely and signaled for Roy to continue the story. 

“I texted them again, this time Wally agreed to meet me. They had found him, though Nightwing will probably not be working for a few days, longer if Donna has her way. I assume,” He adds before Jason could ask. “Donna always wants him to rest longer.” A smile ghosted across Roy’s face lost for a moment in thought before he shook it off. “We talked about... It isn’t important. But he made the comment if you believe DIck Grayson would willingly put the mission before his family then you don’t know him.” Roy scrubbed the heel of his hands against his eyes, trying to push away the growing headache. He missed the growing shock on the other man’s face.  “And we always knew Bruce wasn’t the easiest to work for or with. I mean, fuck man, if I had a nickel for every time B screwed Dick over, I wouldn’t be living in this dump.” 

“What?” Jason practically yelled, startling enough to jump, sending his computer crashing to the ground.

Roy frowned, of all the things to surprise Jason, this wasn’t what he was expecting.  “Jay, you complain about B all the time.” 

“Yeah, but Goldie is his favorite!” Jason was still yelling, but his eyes looked almost desperate. 

Roy couldn’t help the snort that escaped, “Favorite asset maybe.” The sneer fell from his face when the panic didn’t leave Jason. “I don't know what to tell you, man. Their relationship was never easy and though Dick would deny it, we knew it wasn't always good. Dick was supposed to be the heir and at the beginning they were good. But then Dick grew up, he didn’t want to be Batman and at some point, he became the contingency plan instead."

“But he was Batman,” Jason argued, though missing any of the heat. 

Roy let his gaze slide to the wall, suddenly far away,” Yeah, so no one else had to be. So none of you had to be. Jay, You had just come back and were out for blood. Tim was still a kid.  Damian wasn’t even a factor yet. He took up the cape because someone had to, not because he wanted it. He would do it even if it killed him and I know it would have eventually.  I spent that entire time expecting a phone call that he died. If Bruce didn’t come back the cape would have probably killed him within the first two years. '' Roy stopped pacing, bracing himself against the back of the couch. 

Jason’s face was blank, Roy watched him swallow then collapse back into the chair.   “What...” Jason hesitated, “what do you mean contingency?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. 

“B has a plan for everything,” Roy said, mimicking something Jason has both said and heard a thousand times. It wasn’t mocking like it usually came from him or said with the same certainty he’s heard from the other bats. It was cruel and damning.  Roy continued, “including how to take himself out if the need arose.”

There was a tense pause, then Jason let out a long “fuck,” and Roy completely agreed. “What about the footage?” Jason continued, “how does that play into things?” Roy could see that Jason didn’t want to put the last few pieces together. 

“Wally was right, Dick would never willingly leave his family. And I know of only one person with enough power to force him to do anything. You said Bruce had locked himself  in the cave when Dick first supposedly died, what was he doing during that time if Dick wasn't dead?”

“We need that footage,” Jason whispered. 

Roy nodded in agreement, “We need that footage.”

Chapter Text

They talked about it. Debated about it. Hell, even yelled about it before coming up with a plan.

They talked about calling in Tim or Babs for help. If anyone could hack the Bat-computer and find the missing footage, it would be one of them. But Roy hesitates. He’s still not comfortable having pulled Jason into this. Because Roy has no proof but a gut feeling and a delayed realization that something doesn’t add up. If he’s wrong it’s one thing, but to send Babs or worse Tim and they actually find something is another.

Roy knows Dick. Knows him the same way he knows Garth, Wally, and Donna. The same way they know him. If there is the slightest chance something went down, Dick would NEVER want the rest of his family to see it. Jason eventually agrees to at least table the idea, though remains reluctant.

They discuss hacking the system themselves. Dangerous for several reasons. Neither man was the best at hacking, they didn’t have the skill or the technology to take on the security of the Bat computer. If they were caught, assuming there was something to find, Bruce might move it or delete it. 

They consider other cameras, not from the cave surveillance system, but maybe the bat-mobile or one of the cowl cams. They are always recording and maybe the footage was missed by Bruce.  Jason is more reluctant on this one, he doubts Bruce would be so careless but admits it isn’t impossible.  It would be easier than trying to find the missing footage.

Later, it’s Jason who floats the idea to just ask Dick. He doesn’t sound particularly convinced of it working.

Neither is Roy, to be honest. “No,” he said after the idea sits between them for a few long moments.  The memory of Wally waving a hand through the air, “says it’s his fault.” flashed through his mind.

“Donna,” Roy announced, “We need to talk to Donna.”

Jason frowned, “What? Why?”

“If anyone knows, if Dick would tell anyone it would be her.” Roy was confident in this plan, Donna might not betray Dick’s trust, but she should be able to at least point them in the right direction.

“Since when?” Jason demanded.

Roy cocked his head to the side, “Always, Wonder Twins those two.”

“I thought he and Wally were best friends.”

“They are.” Roy explained, standing he went to pick up the few plates and take out containers they had left on his coffee table “But Dick and Donna are like twins. We didn’t call them the Wonder Twins just because they both had wonder in their names.” Roy paused for a second on his way to his kitchen to dump the dishes in the sink, “We didn’t continue because they had wonder int their names. Hell, I think B even did a DNA test when we were kids to see if they were related.”

“Do you think she’ll help?” Jason called after his retreating back.

Roy appeared in the doorway again, leaning heavily against the frame. “Honestly? No. But she won’t turn down an invite to call me an idiot and hopefully she can verify we're not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Before we drag anyone else into this,” Jason muttered.

“If we have to drag anyone else into this.” Roy corrected. He pushed himself off the door frame, shuffling past Jason. “Take the couch,” he said, placing a hand on Jason’s shoulder and giving It a quick squeeze before retreating again. “I’ll text Donna.”

Jason hummed, eyes far away.

“Try to get some sleep, Jay”

“Yeah man, you too.”

Jason woke up to someone shoving a pastry in his mouth. He coughed, turning on his side to spit it into his hand. By the time he could breathe and was able to compose himself enough to find his attacker, Donna was across the room sipping from a comically large cup of takeaway coffee.  An open box of mixed pastry goods sat in front of her on the table.

“The hell Troy?” Jason growled, from the corner of his eye, he could see Roy enter, then startle when he saw the woman at his table. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Donna leaned back in her chair; she was illuminated by the morning sun streaming in through the window. “Only if I have to.” She shrugged. “Doughnut? Croissant?” She nudged the box closer to them. “I would have brought you a coffee, but I don’t know how you still take it.”

“Don-“ Roy whispered, pained.

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I started a pot of coffee in your kitchen.” As if on cue a familiar beep came from the other room. “Grab a cup,” she instructed. Jason found himself on his feet to comply, following after Roy. Donna glanced down at her phone. “Then we can talk. But hurry up, I don’t have all day.”

The men moved, standing shoulder to shoulder in Roy’s tiny kitchen, passing cream and sugar. They came back to Donna frowning at her phone. She signaled for them to give her a moment, then went to typing. Roy grabbed the pastry box, helping himself to a croissant. Jason, after sending a dark look at the crumbs and left-over croissant that almost killed him just that morning, went for a cherry strudel.

“Okay,” Donna said after a few moments. She placed the phone down and wrapped her fingers around her drink again. “What can I do for you boys?”

They shared a look, for all their planning the night before, they hadn’t planned what to say when talking to Donna. The few messages Roy exchanged with her came from a place of sleep-deprived desperation. He wasn’t expecting her to show up that morning.

When neither spoke, Donna sighed, “Is this about the other night?” She asked, throwing a cautious look to Jason.

“Yes, and I already told him,” Roy admitted, “At least what I know.”

“The text or your conversation with Wally?” she asked, a single eyebrow raising in question.

“Both.”

Donna made a small ah noise, “And what do you need from me?” she asked cautiously.

“Is he okay?” Jason found himself asking.

Donna studied him for a moment and Jason tried not to squirm under her gaze. “he will recover,” she said eventually. “I will be taking him on a little trip so he can rest without concern of a threat.”

Both men were startled, concern and panic flashed across their faces. “Someone is still after him?” Jason asked, at the same time Roy asked, “Who is it?”

“I don’t see how either of those things are your concern at this time.” Donna sniffed at them.

Jason’s face flushed in rage, “To hell, it is.“ He started to stand from his seat, ready for a fight.

Roy waved a hand between them, trying to break it up. He knew both their tempers far too well. “Donna, If you think we don’t need to know, I trust your judgment.” Roy placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. The younger man huffed, letting Roy push him back into his chair. “You’ll protect him?”

“With my life,” Donna promised. And Roy didn’t doubt it.

“If you need help, let us know,” Roy said.  Donna only nodded. She didn’t agree, but he knew it was the best they could get at the moment.  “We wanted to ask about when Dick faked his death,” Roy began.

Donna crushed the paper coffee cup in her hands, sending her jerking back from the table in surprise.  She hissed as hot coffee hit her hands and sloshed down her front.  Thankfully, the damage was minimum, as the drink was mostly empty.  Roy ran to the kitchen for paper towels.

They cleaned up in a tense silence. Donna’s hands shook in rage. “If you remember nothing else from this conversation, remember this,” she said, once the spill was gone from the table and floor and she had their full attention. “Dick Grayson did NOT fake his death. Regardless of whatever else you think did or did not happen, that part was very real.”

“How do you know?” Jason asked.

“How could you not?”

Anger surged through Roy, “Donna,” he growled, “Not everyone can read him like you.”

“You can if you cared enough to try.” She spat back. The room fell into an echoing silence. Donna took a long breath, centering herself again. “But it’s more than that, isn’t it,” She mused. “You weren’t asking about his death. No,” she studied them both. “You wanted to know about after.”

Both men perked up.

“I don’t have anything for you on that one. And if I did, I would never betray his trust.” She stood, “Keep those.” She nodded to the partially empty box.

Roy stopped her with a loose hand around her wrist, “Donna, please.” He whispered, practically begged.

She sighed, her back turned to them, but let Roy keep his hold. “It’s – “ she swallowed, “It’s not a lie. I don’t know. He’ll talk a little about after joining Spyral. He’s even talked about his death on rare occasions, but never about what happened in between.”

“You have a theory,” Roy stated, voice soft. He ran his thumb in small circles on her pulse point.

Donna nodded. She freed herself from his grasp and took a few steps out of range, finally turning to look at them. “Do you remember after that Titan space mission, the one that lasted almost three months?”  She asked Roy.

“You mean…” Roy trailed off, shooting a pointed look to Jason and then back at Donna.  Jason frowned in confusion between the two but kept his mouth shut.

The woman nodded again, “He went to see Bruce after and came back with…” she pointed at her own face instead of finishing.

Jason had no idea what they were talking about but based on Roy’s soft, “Oh god,” he was the only one lost. The older man buried his face in his hands. “Code B?” he asked, voice muffled and broken.

“Code B,” Donna repeated, voice just as pained. The phone in her hand buzzed, cutting the moment and pulling her attention. “I have to go,” she whispered. She left for the door again, this time no one stopping her. She paused before opening it. “It’s the eyes,” she said over her shoulder. “The light in his eyes – it’s gone. Sometimes I think I can see a small flicker, but I don’t know if it’s real or if I’m trying to give myself some hope.” She fled out the door before either man was able to form a response.

Chapter Text

Roy clutched at his hair, not enough to rip it out, but just enough to ground himself in the moment. Jason was giving him time, he could feel his friends' eyes watching and waiting. Roy took a long breath, and tried to release some tension from his body. “Fuck it.” Roy muttered, “Fuck it all.” He stood with enough force to knock his chair to the floor with a crash. He left, storming into his kitchen to dig out the almost full bottle of whiskey stashed away. Typically kept as an alternative to meds when fixing up an injury - better than nothing but not as disorienting. 

He started chugging the alcohol, it burned his insides and pooled in his stomach like lava. Then Jason was there in the doorway. Roy blinked and Jason was in his face. The younger man took the bottle and held it out of reach, “Roy, what the fu-”

“I can’t do this.” he interrupted, making half-hearted attempts to take back the bottle. “I can’t - This is way more complicated than I was expecting.”

“Roy, what are you talking about?” Jason pressed, trying to grab him by the wrist, while still keeping the whisky out of reach. 

“If Bruce is really beating Dick again, We’re going to have to kill him. Shit, I’m going to have to kill Batman.” Roy rambled. 

Jason froze, fighting the green on the edges of his vision. Roy fell away as background noise, his voice echoing, “Beating Dick again.”  The neck of the whisky bottle shattered in his hand, crashing to the floor in a mess of glass and liquor. 

The soft call of “Jason” pulled him back to reality. Roy was watching him with concern. Pit raged licked at his insides, demanding he punch the look off his friends face. “We should wrap that,” Roy nodded to Jason’s cut hand.  

Blood dripped from his fingers, he could feel the cuts, shallow but still bloody. He shook his head, flexing his hand. Jason used the pain to keep himself grounded. “Explain,” he demanded, breathing hearsh and ragged. 

Roy started to point to the doorway, but Jason shook his head with a growl. Roy turned to the cabinet again, careful this time for the fallen glass. He grabbed another bottle, this time pouring himself a few fingers into a cup.. He kept ut out of range from Jason, hoisting himself on to the counter next to the sink. 

“Just remember, don’t shoot the messenger.” Roy started, waiting long enough for Jason to nod in agreement. “There was always a fine line, you know? Between training and abuse. Ollie wasn’t the best parent, we clashed a lot when I was a kid, still do sometimes. But he was never physical. Garth and Donna were from different worlds, they grew up training to be soldiers. But they knew there was a line between in training and out of it. Wally...” Roy trailed off, taking another drink. “It’s not my story to tell, but If it were up to us, his father would be dead.” 

Jason flinched, understanding what his friend wasn't saying. 

Roy continued,  “There was never a way to figure out the line with Dick though.  He was cagey about injuries regardless of the source. You could watch him take a bullet to the shoulder and he would still try to pretend it didn’t happen.”

Jason snorted, because yeah, he's expressed that one. The green had faded slightly, just enough for him to grab the bottle of Whiskey from Roy and take a swiggs. He held off Roy’s grabbing hands, hoisting himself onto the adjacent counter.  He waved a hand for Roy to continue. 

“It was like six weeks after you died. We - the Titans - had just gotten back from an offworld mission.” Roy was studying him carefully, swaying slightly from the alcohol in his system. “We were gone for like three months.” 

Jason felt the air leave his lungs, and he couldn’t breath. 

Roy scrubbed his face, eyes locked on the glass covered floor, but gaze was far away. “We had barely landed, like an hour I think, when Dick got the message. He didn’t explain anything to us at the time, just took off in the Zeta. He’s never explicitly talked about what happened, at least not that I know of. He had gone to the manor, went to see Bruce. Two hours later, he came back, his face swollen to hell and two ribs broken. He just kept muttering ‘Jason dead’ over and over.”  

Jason’s world was blurring. The bottle was abandoned on the counter, he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, just under Roy’s steady voice. 

Roy kept talking, lost in his own mind and memories.  “He was probably in shock, but admitted it was Bruce, when Donna asked. We were ready to murder Bruce then and there, but Garth was the voice of reason. Dick needed us. We stayed, and by the time Dick was emotionally stable enough to be alone, he made us promise to leave it.  But if he ever did something like this again, Bruce would be a dead man.”

Jason’s hands were shaking, vision a blurry, foggy green. He couldn’t breath, lungs tight in his chest. 

Roy finally shook himself out of the memory, glancing up at the other man. He startled, realizing Jason was curled in a tight ball, gasping for wheezy breath. The red head jumped from the counter, ignoring the stinging of glass under his feet. He knew Jason was having a panic attack, but didn’t know how to help. He helped Dick and Wally with them when they were younger, but they had very different methods. Wally couldn’t be touched. Dick wanted to feel sheltered, and was happy to be tucked under your arm.  Roy went the Wally route, dragging Jason by the arm off the counter and out of the kitchen. They made it far enough to be away from the glass. He dragged them both down, forcing Jason to sit on the couch and shoving his head between his knees.  Roy backed off, pausing once to make sure no glass was stuck in the other’s feet, glad to find no glass or cutts. Roy muttered about grabbing some water, heading back to the kitchen, giving Jason a moment to pull himself together. 

Jason was still reeling, but he could breathe a little easier.  Nothing made sense.  A small part of Jason always blamed Dick for not saving him from the Joker. He was under the impression that Dick chose to not save him, to not come to Gotham. But Dick was off-world. Dick was apparently gone long before Jason was even taken.  

Dick didn’t come to his funeral. Jason saw the footage, because Bruce had it on file and Jason couldn't not watch it.  Dick didn’t make an appearance and Jason has thrown it in Dick’s face more than once. It wasn't that Dick didn't show, it was that he couldn't.  With a sinking feeling he realized Bruce witnessed Jason’s rant, and said nothing. 

Jason can imagine Dick finding out, returning to the cave to talk to Bruce. He can imagine them breaking out in a typical fight, one he can vaguely remember from his childhood. Bruce, with his limited range of emotions, lashing out. Dick, tired from space travel and in shock, was no match for the full rage of a grieving Batman. 

Jason didn’t know how long he waited, mind racing and life reorganizing for a second time in as many days.   Roy dropped down at this side, holding out a bottle of water.  He let Roy take his injured hand, poking scabbed over cuts. 

“I cleaned up the kitchen,” Roy muttered, using some rubbing alcohol to clean the cuts, ignoring Jason’s soft hiss of pain.  They sat in silence, until Roy was done and flopped back onto the couch again. “So now what?” he asked. 

“I need to find that footage, Roy.” Jason whispered. “I need to know.”

Roy sighed, but nodded. “But how?”

Jason’s gaze slid to the wall behind the TV. “Start with alternative sources: Bat-mobile and any suit cams. We can recon the cave.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, during the day. Everyone should be out, we just have to work around Alfred. Say we're following up on a case.” Jason suggested. 

Roy hummed in agreement. Silence fell across the room. “Wanna binge watch something on Netflix and eat our weight in pizza for the rest of the day?”

“Fuck yes.”

Chapter Text

They went the next day as planned, while they were still motivated. Before the world could end and throw a distraction or an excuse to put it off until never. They arrive in Gotham mid-morning; both were subtly armed.  As expected, Tim, Damian, and Bruce, were all gone. Alfred greeted them at the front door with a little suspicion but a warm welcome. He pulled Jason in for a hug and gave Roy a polite nod. 

Jason did the talking, explaining they were working a case and needed to check some information in the cave. The man huffed and grumbled in all the right places about having to use the cave resources, earning himself an exasperated but fond look from Alfred. 

“The key,” Dick had explained to both men years ago, though on two different occasions. “In lying to Alfred, is to not. Half lies or careful word choices.” He imparted on the Teen Titans like words of wisdom from the profit. “He’ll let me hang out with you guys.” He nodded to his friends. “And just maybe it’ll be at a party,” He laughed, throwing his glass up for a cheer. The alcohol was flushing high on his cheeks. The room around them was filled with other underage buzzed teens mingling. 

Alfred waved them further into the house, sending them on their way. They were calm and cool, but Roy could feel his heart in his throat.  Down the hall, into the office, through the clock. They opted for the stairs, both men too restless to stand confined in the small metal box of the elevator. 

The cave was much more daunting than Roy remembered. The occasional screech of a bat echoed off the walls, breaking up the hum of the various machines. It was as he always remembered, but somehow starel and washed out. He was here less than a month ago and didn’t notice, when did it change? The dinosaur - the same one he’s helped Dick dress up what feels like hundreds of times to prank Bruce - was faded and lost to the background. No longer standing as the statement piece he remembered. The penny lost its copper shine, leaning heavy in the back like scrap metal. 

Jason caught Roy on the shoulder, raising an eyebrow in question. 

The red head waved him off, not sure how he could explain why an un-shiny penny was throwing him off so much. He turned to the computer, stalking over to lean against the side table. He left the chair open for the other man to work. 

Jason followed at a much more sedate pace. He took the open chair, running his hands along the keyboard with a long breath. 

“Ready?” Roy asked in a soft whisper. 

Jason squared his shoulders. “No,” he admitted, “but we’re going anyways.” He pulled up the computer logging in and opened a handful of case files for cover. He turned to the cave security, re-checking the general cams. Neither man was surprised to find no changes. Jason pulled up the same before and after comparison of the sparing mats. Leaving it open on an adjacent screen, he used the images as time stamps. Roy stayed silent, at his shoulder, a constant and reassuring presence. 

They checked through everything: Bat-mobile, the various cycles, any costumes with recording devices. They call came up the same. 

Jason slammed his hands down on the arm rests of his chair, sending a shooting pain up his arm. It was grounding.  “Nothing,” he spat at the screen.

Roy buried his face in his hands, “We’re going to have to ask someone to hack it. And hope there’s something hidden to work with.” He said, voice muffled. 

“Fuck,” Jason muttered. Shoving out of his chair, it crashed to the floor. “Fuck,” he said again. He started pacing, feet landing hard on the floor and turning sharp. 

“Tim or Barbara?” Roy continued, “Maybe Vic? If we want to keep it away from Fa-Gotham.”

Even with the correction, Jason heard it. Family, to keep this from more of the family finding out. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.” 

“What would be worse, someone here finding out or someone explicitly not here finding out?” Roy asked the room.

“Fu-“

Jason was cut off by the sound of shattering glass and falling metal. Alfred stood near the elevator, silver tray at his feet with the remains of drinks and snacks at his feet. The man’s face was ashen, eyes fixed on the computer screen behind them, specifically the comparison of the training mats from before and after Dick’s death, the dates clear on both.

“Alf-“ Jason started, but stopped when Roy put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Alfred, what do you know?” Roy asked, voice hard and careful. 

Jason didn’t like the accusatory nature of his friend’s voice. He opened his mouth to argue, because Alfred would never –

“Less than you assume, Mr. Harper.” Alfred’s voice was tired, the man looked old. Gone was the air of timelessness. 

“Alfred?” Jason called, frowning with a mix of confusion and concern. 

“You boys always assumed I knew more than I actually do. That I have some magical way of knowing all. ” He started, “Really, It’s a combination of observation and listening. I normally don’t resort to using technology, but the cave is the exception. I have…” he paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I have audio.” He admitted, he couldn’t meet their eyes, gaze stuck on the image behind them. 

“Where?” Roy demanded, his voice was harsh.  Jason wanted to scold his friend, elbow him, do something because this was Alfred. 

This was Alfred. 

Alfred nodded, “I will retrieve it.” He disappeared to the elevator; hands clasped tight in front of him.

Jason’s mind was racing. He didn’t know what Alfred had, but if it was proof of what they thought. If Alfred had known and not done anything. 

Roy brought him back with a clasp on the arm as he moved past. The older man crouched over the fallen tray, turning it right side up. He collected the larger shards of glass, placing them on the tray to dispose of later. Jason followed his lead, retrieving a trashcan and some paper towels for the drinks. Lemonade, he assumed based on the stray pieces of lemon mixed with the cubes of ice. They made quick work of the mess. It drew just enough of Jason’s attention to keep his mind from wandering dangerously. 

Alfred returned as Jason was tying the trash back closed. The tray was waiting, cleaned, on the table. He stopped, something in hand. A look of surprise flashed across his face before smoothing out to an appreciative smile. The man sat, placing a flash drive in the center of the table. “Everything I have from that time. Some of it is hard to understand, but most of it is auditable.” 

“Do you know?” Roy asked, jaw set.

“No, not for sure.” The man stared down at these hands. It took Jason a moment to realize it was in shame. “But for blind ignorance or honest unknown, I cannot say.”

“Either they fought, or they didn’t. It’s not that hard to tell.” Roy spat. Alfred didn’t look up; Jason was slack jawed. The red head was on a rampage, “It wasn’t the first time Bruce has done something like this.”

Alfred looked up, eyes sharp. “Master Bruce would never-“

“It was the day Dick found out Jason died,” Roy continued, as if Alfred never spoke. 

Jason flinched. He didn’t want to think about it. He wasn’t sure he could handle the story again so soon. 

“He left the tower in significantly better condition than when he returned. Because he was so distraught, he didn’t even try to lie about who hit him.” Roy was heaving in deep breaths, hands shaking slightly. 

“Alfred,” Jason asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Are there any moments? Any feelings or hunches – anything that would make you suspect Bruce was ab-“Jason made a choking sound. He couldn’t say it. 

“No,” The other man shook his head, mournful. “But it is clear there are moments I have missed at the peril of Master Dick.”

“What about the others?” Roy said. He was still standing, but the shaking had lessened signifyingly. “Jason, Tim, Damian, the girls?” 

“No, nothing.”

Roy dropped back into his chair with a grunt. 

“You will call me.” Jason growled, a protective urge serging through him. “The moment you suspect anything. You will call me right away and then get them out of here.” Distantly he knew the distraught look on his grandfather-figure's face would cause him pain. But now, in this moment, the look coupled with the nod left him with a little bit of reassurance. 

Roy snatched the USB off the table, pocketing it in one move. “We’ll listen to this somewhere else.” He announced, standing all while refusing to look at Alfred. “I can’t stay here,” he added, speaking directly to Jason. 

He could feel the faying edges around Roy, barely holding himself together. Jason nodded, signaling him ahead. Roy took the steps two at a time, leaving Jason and Alfred alone. 

“We’ll figure this out,” he announced. If it was for his sake or Alfreds, he wasn’t sure. 

Alfred cleared his throat, “Master Jason,” he said, hesitating in a way that made Jason’s chest hurt. “If I may offer a bit of advice, even if it might be above my place, at the moment.”

Jason nodded, because he take any kind of direction, especially from Alfred.

“Talk to Master Dick. He might not want to discuss what happened, but he deserves the opportunity to explain on his own terms, don’t you think?”

Jason nodded, unsure how to respond. 

Alfred smiled careful and reassuring. “Please take care of him, for me – for us.”  

Jason’s mouth was dry. He wanted to disagree mostly out of habit, but it caught in his throat. 

“Let me know if I can be of assistance.” Alfred continued. 

Jason nodded, finding his voice again, “Alfie, do you really think we can fix this?” he asked, feeling raw and exposed. “We’ve – I’ve burned so many bridges.”

“For better or worse, Master Dick has always been forgiving to his family.” Alfred said. “I believe it is time we prove to him we deserve said forgiveness.  Our biggest failure would be to not even try.”

A sharp “Jason” came from the cave entrance, cutting off Jason’s response. It sent a handful of bats scattering from above.

The man in question snorted, sending Alfred a soft smile. “Thanks Alfred, for everything.” He gave a quick wave, jogging after his friend. 

Alfred was left alone again. He let out a shaky breath and stumbled back to a chair letting the slow tears fall. 

Roy was waiting outside, helmet on and cycle running. 

“My place?” Jason offered in greeting. 

The other man shook his head, lifting up the face plate to speak. “I need to ride for a while, get my head on straight.” He said through gritted teeth. 

Jason paused, taking in Roy’s shaking hands and tight shoulders. “Are you sure-“

“Yes. No.” Roy snapped, “ What I need is to find the closest fucking dealer, but I can’t so I’m going to settle for driving really fast back to my apartment.”

Jason swallowed and just nodded. Roy’s drug problem was mostly from before his time. He knew about it. Recognizing that Roy made choices to stay away from gateway drugs and habits. On most occasions, Jason even limited his drinking to match Roy, the last few days notwithstanding. But he has never seen Roy admit to anything – let alone something this outright.

“Okay,” he said, “you’re place.”

Roy’s soft, “Thank you,” was almost lost under the clip of his helmet screen locking back into place. The man wrapped shaking hands around the handles to his bike. Jason followed, pulling on his helmet and swinging a leg over the bike. They sped away, making a quick exit from Gotham. 

Chapter Text

Jason followed Roy from Gotham. They cut through a shortcut he didn't know Roy knew about and hit the edge of town in record time. He followed the older man, curious as he pulled off at the edge of the interstate where three lanes turned into a traffic jam and came out as six lanes on the other end. 

Roy drove with confidence, and Jason trusted him. They bypassed the gas stations and other roadside stops. They skirted around what passed for Gotham's attempt at a suburb. At this point, it mainly was run-down apartments and homes abandoned after foreclosure. Housing was just as expensive, if not more, outside the city limits, and it was just as shifty.  You were more likely to be shot because it was a no man's land in terms of gang territory. The big names didn't care, and every druggie with a gun was out trying to claim a block. The Bats didn't patrol that far out normally, and the police would never make it in time if they came at all. It was a disaster. Not to mention anyone living out there had to commute into the city because the already shifty Gotham City public transportation wasn't coming to get you. 

Eventually, Roy pulled off at a rundown gas station that sat about a mile out, looking over a landscape of nothing. It lined a rough road, worn with time, running off into the distance. 

They headed inside, Roy already pulling his wallet. The man at the counter greeted Roy with a familiar nod, his gaze continued, and he ended up frowning at Jason. Maybe it was the day they've had, perhaps he grew as a person in the last few days, or maybe he was just tired of being angry right now. Jason frowned back, taking a beat to realize the man wasn't mad but confused. Like he was expecting someone else to be with Roy.

He watched Roy ignore the raised eyebrow as he slapped two twenties on the counter. The man rang them up in silence, passing back a receipt. Jason turned to leave, just at the door, when he heard it. Roy's voice barely above a whisper, "I messed up, but I'm working on it." 

Jason doesn't hear if the man says anything back. He watched through the reflection of a display as the man nodded his head.  The moment passed, and they left the building. Jason doesn't ask, and Roy doesn't answer. They topped off their tanks, giving the nozzle between the bikes in a comfortable silence. They leave in a cloud of dust.

They drove faster than Jason's mind could keep up. He lost himself in the road, going at a speed that meant all he could do was keep his mind on the here and now.  He realized later that was Roy's intent; the man must have done this before. 

It won't be until days later when Jason finally lets himself think about why. He'll remember Roy's previous announcement about finding a dealer how he'll settle for driving fast, redirecting himself. His familiarity with the route out of Gotham. The interaction with the man at the gas station.  His mind whispers, "Dick Grayson," like that was all the answer he needed. 

"We should probably figure out our next move," Roy said, fishing his keys out, helmet tucked under an arm. 

Jason, following him up the stairs, agreed with a hum. "Alfred-"

Roy cut him off with a scoff, pulled from somewhere deep in his throat. 

Jason grabbed him by the arm, turning Roy and pulling him to a stop. "Don't." He growled, voice low. It was on impulse, the need to protect colored by a vivid and distinct shade of green.

Roy studied Jason's face for a long moment, gaze drifting to the grip on his arm and back up again. "Let's have this conversation upstairs." He said, his tone even and light. It promised a long and unpleasant conversation. It felt both damning and apologetic to Jason's ears and left his stomach sinking. 

Jason released his white-knuckled grip, realizing with a start just how tight he was holding onto his friend.  He cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping up his neck in shame. “I was thinking of ordering from that one Korean Barbecue place for dinner,” he said. 

Roy nodded, turning again. He played with his keys, finding the deadbolt key. 

Jason felt the stones dragging him down, and he slowed. It hit him; if he entered Roy's apartment, there was no going back.

Roy took the peace offering, oblivious to the panic happening behind him. He undid the deadbolt lock, then flicked through his keys for the door lock. “Only if we get extra sauce because I am -”

There was a crash from somewhere inside Roy’s apartment. 

They both tensed, any previous thought momentarily forgotten. They shifted for a fight. They were armed, prepared for anything during their trip to Gotham. Roy finished with the second lock, pushing the door open. They made it a few steps before Roy dropped his stance. He turned his head to the ceiling and signed. Jason cocked an eyebrow at the scene before them. 

Roy’s couch was pushed out from its spot, and every chair he owned was moved into the living room space and stacked up like towers. His coffee table was shoved up close to the TV.  Blankets were strung between the chairs, the middle attached to the ceiling with one of Roy’s putty arrows and tape. Wally and Garth glanced up from under the blanket fort, Friends running from where Roy had left off previously. 

“Garth made mac and cheese,” Wally announced, pointing towards the pot sitting on the coffee table in front of them.

Jason's stomach grumbled, and Roy sighed again. 

Chapter Text

Garth shuffled over, nudging Wally until he shifted as far left as possible. He nodded to the food and patted the space beside him.  A set of bowls and forks were already waiting for them. Roy’s stomach growled, making a choice before his brain could catch up. He grabbed Jason by the wrist, pulling him a few steps into the room, dropping down next to Garth, dragging the younger man down with him. 

Roy ignored the flash drive burning in his pocket; instead, he let the feeling of familiarity ground him for just a moment. 

Garth dished some food out, passing the bowl to Roy, who handed it off to Jason. 

Jason felt awkward. He has been friends with Roy for ages and can confidently categorize Donna in the gray space between acquaintance and friend.  At some point, they stopped being just Dick’s friends, but the same couldn't be said for the other Titans.

Wally had always been labeled as Dick's best friend. Jason couldn't even think of a moment seen Wally - civilian or in costume - without Dick somehow involved.  It takes him even longer to realize he doesn't remember ever meeting any version of Garth.  

Roy brought him back with an elbow to the ribs and a look of concern. Jason blinked at him, then down at his primarily empty bowl. His stomach growled, giving Jason an excuse to look for seconds instead of answering.

From the other side of the fort, Garth and Wally argue about said leftovers. They banter in a way that sounds easy and playful. It wasn't practiced or for show but more of a routine. The Atlantean was holding the dish out of reach from a pouting speedster.

Jason waved away Roy's insistent gaze, shoveling the last few bites of food into his mouth. Jason figured if Roy wanted to use these two as a reason to stall, then he had the same right.  Jason learned over the older man, taking the last scoop of Mac and Cheese for himself. Instantly the two stopped struggling; all three older men watched Jason in various degrees of shock. 

Jason, for his part, ignored them all, even as Roy's look melted into a smirk and Garth's a small smile. Wally huffed, grumbling something about "all bats being the same," and slumped in defeat. 

They pretend to watch the rest of the episode in an attempt at silence. Wally was growing impatient, trapped on the end. Even from the other end of the fort, Jason could see the streak of gray as he wiggled the fork between his fingers until it was an impossible blur. 

Netflix cut past the credits and right into the next episode. Jason turned to Roy, an excuse ready on his tongue to get him alone and make a plan. The redhead was already looking away in a silent conversation with Garth. Jason missed everything but a raised eyebrow from the Atlantean and what seemed to be a reluctant nod from Roy. 

The two stood. Roy caught Jason by the shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze before leading Garth into the kitchen with the dishes. Jason got the message; he was to wait here. 

A wave of acid-like anger flashed under his skin; the impulse to attack Roy was strong. Move into a dive, use the force from the kick to break West's neck. Take fishboy from behind, sulfur pellets for dehydration he kept on hand for Ivy. Roy would be easy, kick to the knee, twist his bad shoulder, and elbow around the neck until the man passed out. Then the drive would be there for the taking. Jason could figure this all out and clear Alfred from any implications of wrongdoing, figure out if it was Bruce or Goldie being dramatic, and everything could go back to normal. 

Roy and Garth disappeared from view.  Jason let out a shaky breath. The green vanished from around the edges of his vision just as fast it appeared. He pushed away from the thoughts. It wasn't about dramatics, not to Roy or Donna, and probably not to the other two Titans either. The question was how far did Bruce go this time. 

Something bumped against his should, pulling Jason from the endless recesses of his mind. Wally had moved closer, now a respectful half afoot. He was messing with the remote, pulling up some competition show about forging weapons (which fair play, Jason never got into the show, friends, but he can watch people make knives from a pinball machine).

They make it through the first round in silence before Jason finds himself breaking it, "You are the draw the short straw?" Jason asked. 

Wally turns to look at him and cocks an eyebrow in question. Jason briefly wonders if these guys picked up habits from Dick or the other way around. "To babysit me." He clarified, "otherwise, you'd be in there talking to Roy."

"Nah," Wally shot him a playful smirk, "More like I drew the long straw to harass Roy first, and now it's Garth's turn. Plus, he wanted to apologize for getting Roy and you involved."

"What the fuck does that supposed to mean?" Jason interrupted, yelling over the speedster.  From the kitchen, there was the sound of rushing, then Roy, followed by Garth, burst out. 

Wally, for his part, doesn't seem phased. He waved the duo back and turned his focus back to Jason. "Roy wasn't supposed to get the message." Wally raised a hand before Jason could argue and contained, "If you are calling for backup on a kidnapping case, who would you call: someone you know would drop everything to save your life or someone who is known for missing those calls and now won't even show up for brunch. It's not a slight against - well it is - but it's not personally against Roy." Wally turned back to the TV and shrugged helplessly. "It's not like we exclude him. He's part of the meet-up chat. We would come running if he asked. It's just at some point we stopped expecting the same." 

An awkward pause stretched between them. On TV, the judges explained the parameters for the home forge round.

Jason cleared his throat, "You guys crashed the place because Fish Boy wanted to have a heart to heart? Was the fort part of it?" 

Wally bit back a snort, "Kind of, the fort part definitely was, same with the mac and cheese. Roy never could say no to Garth's recipe. It's the only surface food he has successfully learned to cook by scratch." Wally shared, and Jason could see the man making bowl after bowl of pasta until he got it right.

Wally continued, "But really, Donna told us you guys were doing some digging right now, and we kind of need a place to crash, at least for tonight. Typically we would stay at Dick's, but it's currently considered a crime scene. Mines out because of distance, plus the wife is having a girls' week. Garth's main residence is underwater. And, only Dick is allowed at Donna's place unsupervised anymore, especially after last time."

Jason stared, stuck on the part about Dick's place, "Crime scene?"

"Yeah, Ames. Uh," Wally scratched his chin, "Dicks old partner and current chief of police is handling the case. He wasn't Nightwing at the time, making it a missing person's situation. Apparently, Ames was already on the case when we showed up; he was supposed to up for dinner at her place a few days ago. She opened the missing person case once it hit the 24-hour mark. We could speed up the search significantly and found Dick, though he was in a rough way.  Apparently,  Dickie had a restraining order against her already.  Donna and Ames knew more than we did; they were ready to murder her. We got him out, and now we're here." 

"You don't know what she did?"

"I know three things about that woman. One, her name is Cata-something. Two, she knows Dick is Nightwing. Three, she has hurt Dick in some terrible ways." On TV, the judges announced a winner, not that either of them was paying attention.

"You don't want to know what happened?" Jason demanded, chasing his curiosity. 

Wally thought for a moment, "I won't say I'm not curious." He admitted,  "But no, because I've known Dick for the most of my life. I've seen what it takes to push him to a breaking point. It only took her three days almost to destroy him when I've seen him be tortured for weeks with not even a drop of comparison."  The speedster looked helpless, staring down at his hands, "I can make an educated guess. But knowing the trauma doesn't make everything magically better." 

Jason nodded in agreement, letting Wally trail off. They drifted in their own silence until the others returned. On-screen, the host pulled the tarp from a treasure overflowing with coins, chains, and other sea-based bits of metal. 

Chapter Text

Garth followed Roy back into the kitchen. The man stopped, hovering in the middle of the room with the dirty plates in hand.  Garth placed the pot, his and Wally's dishes already tucked inside, in the sink. He flicked on the water to let the pot fill and hosted himself on the adjoining counter.  It was reminiscent of his talk with Jason.   Roy added his plates to the pot, cocking a questioning eyebrow in the process.  Typically Garth wasn't to leave dirty dishes, especially if he made them at someone else's place. 

The Atlantian waved him off instead of speaking.  

Roy let it go; not like anything over the last few days could be classified as typical.  "Are you here to yell at me too?" He asked, leaning heavily against the counter. 

Garth doesn’t answer. He tilted his head slightly more to the right, silence egging Roy along. 

"I knew you'd come by eventually," Roy continued, "Wally had a go, and Donna was just by. Now it's your turn to yell at me, right?" He sneered, trying to press Garth’s buttons, "I’ll admit, though, I had more time from what Donna wasn't saying and all. Figured Dickie would need all the support." 

Garth gave a half shrug ignoring the prompt for information. “I’m not going to yell at you, Roy,” he said, gaze reassuring and voice calm. It caused the ache in Roy’s chest, the one he has been ignoring since his talk with Wally, to grow just a little more. “If anything I should apologize for -”

“Getting me to pull my head out of my ass?” Roy interrupted, smiling sharp and self-destructive.  

“I was not going to put it that way.” Garth offered, still neutral and gentle. 

Roy licked his lips; they were rough and dry against his tongue.  “Doesn’t make it any less true.”  He couldn’t avoid Garth’s gaze; the man saw past all his walls. Roy wished he would yell, would try to throw a punch; Instead, he felt stripped and exposed. 

A cry of "What the fuck does that supposed to mean?" interrupted their silence and sent them running to the living room.  Jason was flushed red and wild, but Wally didn’t seem concerned. He was calm, the same calm he wore whenever he goaded Dick into a fight. Wally, at that moment, had things under control.  The redhead waved them back after a single glance. 

Roy trudged back to his spot against the counter. “Garth, he signed, slumped, head knocking against the cabinet.  “Why are you here?”

Garth let out a long breath, and unlike Roy's sigh, it was more meditative in an attempt to center himself. “Donna is currently taking care of Dick, and Wally and I cannot join them. We are unable to stay at Wally’s or my place for logistical reasons.  We are not allowed unsupervised at Donna’s place after the incident with the duck.”

“Doctor Quackers,” Roy whispered in understanding. 

Garth nodded, “Dick’s apartment is currently under lockdown as part of the investigation with the Bludhaven Police Department-” 

“-It’s what?” Roy jerked, the wariness in his bones gone, a new sense of urgency taking its place. 

“A formality according to Officer Amy, now that he has been located and she is in custody.” Garth continued as if he wasn’t previously interrupted, “The Wonder Twins will be unavailable, at least for a few days.”

“A few-”

“Just until that Pterois ,” Garth spat the word out with venom and disgust; it sent Roy physically jerking back in surprise.  “-can be dealt with, and we are able to find Dick a new apartment.”

"Slow down, new apartment?" Roy waved a hand, "Garth, what the fuck did I miss?"

Garth sighed, deep and mournful, gaze falling to the floor. "It's hard to explain. Wally and I do not know much of the details." 

The answer kicked up the fire in Roy's chest, "Don't bullshit me," he growled.

Purple eyes darted back up, bright and wild, with a smile that was a little too wide and sharp to be human, reminding Roy just how dangerous his friend could be. "We found him in an apartment on the other side of Bludhaven, half-naked, covered in scratches, freezing and dissociating. He didn't even register when she held a gun to his head." 

Roy held his breath. He was refusing to give Garth a reason to stop. 

"I do not know who that woman was or how she was able to take Dick, and I do not need to. If the police were not there, we would have killed her." Garth stared at a spot just over Roy's left shoulder, transfixed. "We would have done it happily."

Roy's lungs were starting to burn, but he ignored it. 

"Donna and the former police partner knew who she was. Dick had issues in the past and has an active restraining order against her. She will be going back to prison for a long time."  Garth blinked a few times, pulling himself back to the moment, and Roy let out a long shuddering breath. 

"Dick and Donna are on Themyscira for the time being." Garth picked up, refusing to let the moment settle, and for that, Roy was thankful. "Until that woman is put behind bars, potentially longer if Donna can convince him to take a break.  But, before she left, Donna told us what you were looking into.”  

Roy flinched, hand instinctively going to the drive-in his pocket, fingers curling around the drive protectively. "What, you two want in or something?"

Garth’s gaze trailed to the clenched fist and back to Roy's face.  Eyes hard and determined, but his smile was almost apologetic, "No, we want you to stop."

Something hot and angry burst in Roy's chest. It crawled through his veins and burned into his brain. He had enough consciousness to release the drive before turning to Garth. The other hero shrunk back in regret, fear, or caution; Roy wasn't paying enough attention to know.  "Get the fuck out," he spat like sparks, the kind that started wildfires. 

"Roy, "Garth started, reaching out a hand. 

He wouldn't allow it. Roy twisted in a move that was all Dick Grayson. He spun, latching onto the front of Garth's shirt and using the momentum to somersault and throw Garth through the doorway and into the living room. " I said get out."

Chapter Text

Garth crashed to the ground, landing on his back with a sharp breath before vaulting to his feet. 

Jason jerked away on reflex, going for one of his hidden weapons. The movement was violent enough that he would have run into Wally if the speedster were still sitting.  

Roy marched in, face etched with an anger Jason had never seen. "Both of you, get the fuck out of my apartment." He seethed, looking pointedly at Wally and then back to Garth. 

Wally stepped forward and around Jason, who sat hunched on the floor, gun in hand. The speedster had his arms raised low in surrender, "Roy, dude, come on-"

"No, Wally, you come on," The other man hissed. "I am this close to answers, and you two come in here demanding I stop." 

"We-"

"You're the ones who started this." Roy continued, taking a few long steps towards Wally until they were almost nose to nose. "Garth with the message and you with the code B. I finally pulled my head out of my ass, and you want me to walk away? Fuck that, and fuck you." He emphasized his point by shoving Wally, sending him stumbling into Garth, who caught him by the arm. 

"Roy," Garth tried, keeping a grip on the seething Wally. "You don't know what you're digging up.

"Yeah?" Roy raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms tightly across his chest."From what I can tell no one knows. I mean, fuck, he wont even tell Donna. She said he would rather talk about dying than whatever happened afterwards." 

Wally growled in response. It made Roy pause, realization spreading over his face. "Are you jealous?" He asked, tone ever biting and cynical. He didn't leave an opening for a response, and powered through Wally's response of "screw you". "I just showed up and already know more than you. Done more than you."

Wally ripped himself free from Garth's grip, lurching in an aborted attack. "Done more?" He let out a humorless laugh that sent chills down Jason's spine. It was so far removed from the version of Wally that Jason had in his head. "Done more for who?" Wally yelled. 

Roy wasn’t fazed, "Dic-"

"Bullshit," Wally bulldozed whatever Roy had to say. "When has digging ever helped? It didn't work with Bruce, and it didn’t with Wilson. So why the hell would this be any different?" 

“Wilson?” Jason asked voice barely a whisper. The others either didn't hear it or were ignoring him. Jason tucked that name away for later. Something familiar itched at the back of his mind, but he couldn't catch it.

“Yeah, and flying blind has been going so well?” Roy scoffed, sarcasm dripping with every word.

Jason took a long breath, juggling the ever-bubbling pitt rage, fear, and concern. His eyes flickered to Garth, who was standing a few paces back from Wally. He had expected the Atlantean to do something, seeing as he had started the fight. Between the few wisps of memories he had from before his death and the occasional story he got from Roy after, Jason expected the man to play peacemaker. But, instead, Garth was watching and waiting for something. Jason didn't need to be Cass to read the tension in his body language. He wasn't angry but ready for a fight. His gaze was sharp and critical.  

Purple eyes flickered to Jason and back to the redheads. It was enough to pin the younger man in place. Jason considered himself to be fluent in nonverbal communication and read the instructions loud and clear. "Let it happen." A bright green part of him bristled at being told what to do, but the rest of him, which was still reeling from recent revelations, took it like a lifeline. 

“How would you even know?” Wally said, “When’s the last time you - either of you” Jason resisted a flinch, suddenly under the speedster’s headed gaze. “Had a conversation with him?” The speedster let the silence hang just long enough to make his point. Wally’s gaze slid back to Roy, leaving Jason feeling hollow and cold. “Yeah,” he snorted, “that’s what I thought. All you’ve done is take away even more of his autonomy. Taking away his right to share himself, and for what? To satisfy your curiosity?”

“We’re helping,” Jason argued, feeling uncertain. 

Wally’s anger melted into something more tired and sad. “The same way Bruce helps,” he said, softer than before. “Do your own investigation, jumping to whatever conclusion you want? Assuming you know better.”

Jason subconsciously wrapped a hand around his neck, thumb rough against the thin batarang scar around his neck. He tried not to remember the short time he spent in Arkham, hiding his terror behind his bright anger. 

“What Dick needs,” Garth said, voice calm. “Is support from his brothers.”

Jason ducked, not wanting to know if he was included. A childish voice in the back of his head whispered that he wasn’t. Jason wasn’t Dick’s brother; he didn’t deserve to be. 

“That means both of you,” Garth continued as if reading Jason's mind. He spoke with authority and certainty, making Jason’s chest hurt. It silenced the nagging voice. “Dick deserves the right to speak for himself.”

Roy made a choking sound, “Garth, I can’t,” he drew in a shaky and desperate breath, “I need to know,” he pleaded. 

Jason pushed himself off the floor. He tried to move to Roy's side but was stopped by Garth’s hand on his shoulder. He flinched with a snarl on his face but swallowed it back when he caught the stoic look on the older man's face. 

"Sounds to me," Garth murmured, "you already know what's on there." Roy's visibility swallowed, his hand moving to cover the flash drive in his breast pocket. "We’ve always known, Roy; never had to see it to know." Garth continued. "You don't have to torture yourself."

A heavy silence fell over the room. 

"Don't I get a say in this?" Jason demanded. Three sets of eyes locked on him. He had a sense of Deja Vu, flashing back to his Robin days and meeting the Titans for the first time. It was bursts of feelings, fleeting just as they arrived. It slipped through his fingers, like so many of his pre-death memories. He shook it away, “It’s my family. Bruce was my fa-mentor too. If he's -” Jason swallowed back the fear, “If he is a threat, I need to know.”

“Doesn’t Dick deserve the chance to explain it on his own terms?” Wally countered he was missing the previous heat. 

Roy opened his mouth to argue or agree; Jason didn’t know. Instead, they were interrupted by the phone. It was Roy’s landline, the one he kept under the pretense of an emergency line, but they all knew it was nostalgia. 

Roy picked up the phone, decade-old plastic creaking in his grip. “Yeah?” he answered, anger shuttering before his face went unreadable. He grunted a few times in agreement as a voice spoke. He snorted. “We’re already involved...yes... enough... I know..." there were long pauses between each response. His gaze flickered between the three other men. "Of course,” he nodded, becoming softer around the edges. “We can handle it." The angst melted away to leave only a soft concern, he turned so his back was to the room in a semblance of privacy. "Concentrate on doing what you need to, we'll keep him safe." Roy paused, letting the voice talk, humming a few times in agreement. "I will... We'll be there in thirty... see you.” 

He signed, dropping the phone back into the cradle, pausing for a second to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You two,” he pointed towards Wally and Garth, “need to check your phones; Donna has been trying to reach you for an hour. Jay, pack your shit. We’re going to New York.”

Chapter Text

Previously:

Roy picked up the phone, decade-old plastic creaking in his grip. “Yeah?” he answered, anger shuttering before his face went unreadable. He grunted a few times in agreement as a voice spoke. He snorted.  “We’re already involved...yes... enough... I know..." there were long pauses between each response. His gaze flickered between the three other men. "Of course,” he nodded, becoming softer around the edges. “We can handle it."  The angst melted away to leave only a soft concern, he turned so his back was to the room in a semblance of privacy. "Concentrate on doing what you need to, we'll keep him safe." Roy paused, letting the voice talk, humming a few times in agreement. "I will... We'll be there in thirty... see you.” 

He signed, dropping the phone back into the cradle, pausing for a second to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You two,” he pointed towards Wally and Garth, “need to check your phones; Donna has been trying to reach you for an hour. Jay, pack your shit. We’re going to New York.

Jason didn't ask. He could see his friends set shoulders and the clenching of his jaw,  telling the story of anger and urgency. The other two followed instructions, both pulling out their phones. Their expressions grew dark, Wally let out a string of swears - impressive if not for the situation. He stayed long enough to share a look with Garth -it was short but packed like a punch in Jason's gut - before vanishing out the front door with a blast of wind. Garth had a silent conversation with Roy. Jason didn't try to keep up, instead he focused on pushing down his jealousy. It ended with Garth throwing an apologetic look to the kitchen and Roy waving him off.  The atlantean nodded to Jason, rushing out the door after Wally, leaving Roy and Jason.  

“Come on,” Roy said, clapping Jason on the shoulder, “We have babysitting duty.”

Jason had never been to Donna’s apartment. He knew she lived in New York City, but it was a big place, jam packed with millions of people. He could make an educated guess - Jason might not have been on the same level as Tim or Bruce - but he was still a detective.  

The converted warehouse, with mismatched brown bricks and large windows, was very Donna Troy.  The entryway played into the theme with iron fixings, exposed pipes, and more brick. It was accented in dark leather and shades of blue and green.

Donna was at the top of the building, one of the two units on the fourth floor. She was waiting for them, wrenching the door open before they could hit the buzzer. She gestured them into the apartment with a warning glare and a finger to her lips for silence. 

"Thanks for coming," She whispered, leading them into the kitchen. "I wouldn't call if it wasn't important." She went right to the coffee maker, pouring a mug. 

Jason frowned, equal parts confused and concerned,  "What's going on?"

Donna paused - though brief enough to look more like hesitation. "You didn't tell him?" She asked, adding two sugars and some cream. She passed it to Roy with a raised eyebrow. 

The man grimised, clutching the drink like it was something precious. He took a sip, humming in delight. He nodded to Donna in thanks. She shrugged her shoulders, with a half smile, turning back to pour another cup. She missed the small smile from Roy and the spark of hope in his eyes. 

Jason cleared his throat, gesturing for someone to explain. 

Donna placed a mug in his hand, "not sure how you take it." She muttered, hoisting herself onto the counter top with her own drink. "I need you guys to watch Dick for me." 

"Why?" Roy asked, at the same time Jason spoke "I thought you two were off to the island?" 

"We were, and I still plan for us to go. But there has been a slight issue with the arrest and they are talking about releasing her under a technicality. Amy needs me, Garth, and Wally back in Blud to give our statements again." 

"How?" Roy hissed.  They both ignored Jason as he started to pace. 

Donna ran a hand down her face, "She has connections with the FBI. Probably the same people who got her out of prison in the first place." 

Roy placed his mug back on the counter before it shattered in his hands. "So Flor-"

Donna cut him with a sharp hiss, launching off the counter with a recognizable protective fury in her eye. "Dont' say her fucking name."

"What happened?" Jason asked with green lining his vision. Roy was fuzzy on his peripheral vision, but Donna was bright with a burning anger and spotlighted under the overhead lamp. 

Donna shook her head, "You don't want to know."

"Don-"

"Fuck that," Jason snarled, rolling his eyes when the others shushed him. He dropped his volume to a whisper, "I'm tired of people telling me what I want and don't want."

There was a tense moment of silence, then Donna deflated. Her red eyes were bright against her rapidly paling face. She shook her head again, blinking back tears. 

"Donna," Roy placed a hand on her shoulder, "from what Garth was saying..." Roy trailed off, swallowing past the lump in his throat and ignoring the intense gaze from Jason. "Was it rape?" 

Donna shrugged helplessly, "I don't know," she admitted. "Even if it was, it wouldn't be the first time. It wouldn't be the first person."

Jason ran a hand through his hair, breathing slow and deep in an attempt to calm the rage.

Roy squeezed Donna's shoulder, struggling to offer some degree of comfort. 

It was Jason who broke the silence with a shuddering breath. He fought down the desperate need for murder; his skin felt too tight and the lights were achingly bright. "What do you need from us?" He asked. 

Donna pulled herself back together, stitching the seams with protective anger and love. "Keep an eye on him," She said. "Get him to eat something. When he wakes up, put on a movie and don't let him leave the apartment."

"Is he in danger?" Roy asked. 

The woman shook her head in a negative, "Don't think so, but I don't want to underestimate how far she will go."

The two men nodded in agreement. 

"He's asleep." She continued, "I added some stuff to his drink earlier, so he should be out for the next few hours." 

Jason opened his mouth to protest on Dicks behalf, but was thrown by Roy's nod of understanding. 

"I don't know how long I'll be. Amy is doing everything she can to get Her away without forcing Dick to come back. She needs our statements again and they need to be airtight.  She knows about Nightwing and can fill in the gaps, but Her attorney is fighting everything." 

"Do what you need to," Roy offered, "We'll take care of him."

Donna nodded in thanks. She paused long enough to kiss them both on the cheek, disappearing down a hall. There was the sound of a door followed by some shuffling.  The two men listened, flinching at a sudden thump. It was followed by a soft murmuring and the eventual closing of a door. 

Donna appeared in the doorway, wearing a leather jacket and carrying a bag.  "I told him I have to run out and that you're here. He is still out of it, so I'm not sure if he'll remember." 

"Don, we got this," Roy said, offering his best reassuring smile. 

Donna didn't look convinced, but nodded anyway. She left without another word, gnawing on her lip all the way. 

Roy sighed, sagging against the counter. He looked to Jason who started pacing again. The younger man paused on the walk back, shaking his head before Roy could open his mouth, and continued to pace. 

Roy pushed off the counter, leaving Jason to think. He settled on the couch and prepared himself for a long day.

They sat side-by-side, staring at the blank TV. Roy pulled the flash drive from his pocket, holding it out in front of them. Silently Jason pulled out his laptop, taking the memory stick gingerly and plugging it in. The system connected easily, opening to a handful of unnamed audio files. 

Roy couldn't watch, instead he tucked his head between his knees and took deep breaths. He was bracing himself against what was to come. 

He heard the sound of keys and the dull click of the mouse pad. There was a long pause, Roy clutched at his hair, grounding himself. A moment passed, then another. Eventually there was a single, small tap of the laptop closing. It tore Roy out of his curled position, shifting to look at the younger man. 

Jason was staring straight ahead, his hands resting open palm over the shut laptop. "We can't." He whispered, eyes flicking to the hallway and back. "Not right now." 

Roy shifted closer, offering silent support. He almost missed Jason's whisper. "One hell at a time."

For hours they camped out on the couch with the TV running the weapon making show Jason had started back at Roy's apartment. The sound was off, and subtitles scrolled across the screen, unseen by either man. 

A small "hey," broke through their glazed expressions. They launched into action, going for weapons: Jason revealing a gun and Roy pulling a bowie knife from under the coffee table. 

Dick frowned at them, gaze still slightly unfocused from the drugs.  To his credit, he didn't even flinch when Roy brandished the knife just inches from his face.

Dick was dressed in loose sweats with a mostly unzipped hoodie over a bare chest. Butterfly bandages littered his face and the occasional bandaid accented darkening bruises like cherries on an ice cream sundae.

Both men lowered their weapons, eyeing Dick with concern.

Dick shifted, unable to hold back the wince as his ribs protested. He didn't seem to register the pain or his body's reaction. "Roy?" His surprise was clear even through the bruises and exhaustion. He flinched back in surprise when his eyes landed on Jason. "Jay?"  His gaze darted around the room, scanning the exits and searching for others.

Roy was first to find his voice, coming out raw, "Hey Dickie," He said, his eyes categorizing every new scar and darkening bruises. 

Jason wasn't as lucky, his voice stuck in his throat. 

"You okay?" Dick asked. 

The question pulled a loud, slightly manic laugh from Jason. He snapped his jaw shut, biting his tongue in the process.  Roy shot him a warning look, but it was Dick's look of concern that twisted like a knife in the chest. He tried to swallow, only to kick up guilt and anger which made the copper taste of blood seem more like bile on his tongue. 

"Anything I can do for you?" Dick pressed, "I can be ready in-" 

"No," Roy choked out, raising his hands with palms out, like he was trying to approach a skittish animal. 

Dick flinched back, the hurt was loud but disappeared as quickly as it arrived. 

Roy rushed forward, stopping just out of arm's reach. "Everything is okay. It's not that we don't want you, it's that there isn't any need. Everyone is okay."

"Mostly," Jason muttered under his breath, eyeing the darkened skin around Dicks neck. Anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach, comforting and reassuring against the waves of guild and irrational fear. It was a protective anger, one he rarely acknowledged with any of the people he would reluctantly call his siblings. The same emotion that he actively ignored when it came to Dick. 

Later Jason will remember the last time they went to a Gala. He watched as a woman ran her hands up and down Dick's chest. He saw the forced smile, strained and reluctant. He'll remember the same feeling of protective anger, this time followed by guilt as he turned and walked away. He would spend the rest of the night categorizing every memory, every person, who has ever harassed either Dick Grayson and Nightwing. 

"Mostly?" Dick parroted, cocking his head to the side. 

"What he means-" Roy started only for Jason to interrupt. 

"I mean, there's you." He gestured to Dick as a whole. "You're not exactly-"

Roy turned back, his face flushed with warning and alarm. "Jason don't," he hissed. 

Jason ignored the warning. He had a sudden and desperate need to grab Dick by the shoulders and shake him, but he fought it down. "-doing well at the moment. You look like you went through the ringer." 

Dicks expression shifted, smoothing out to a blank mask. He zipped the hoodie up fully, crossing his arms across his chest. They could practically see Dick locking himself away. "I'm fine," he said, his voice was flat and even.

"Dick," Roy tried, reaching for his arm but missing by inches. Dick was already turning back down the hall. "Dickie," Roy called, edging towards pleading. The bedroom door closed without a second glance. 

Chapter Text

Roy felt like a hypocrite before he even opened his mouth. He turned to Jason, who was standing there with a gun limp in his hand and failing to hide his concern behind his usual anger. 

“That fucker!” Jason hissed, throwing his hands up in frustration, “Can’t just accept-”

"You need to leave," Roy interrupted. Not really, at least not completely or permanently; he needed Jason to listen first. Roy knew the younger man wasn't expecting that from him, but he needed Jason to understand. This was a delicate situation, and if Jason couldn't keep himself in check, then he would have to go. 

Jason reared back in shock; his gaze was sharp and tinged in acid green. His hand flexed, and the gun creaked in his grip.

Roy continued, "If you don't listen to me, then I need you to leave."  He knew how to take care of Dick Grayson. It was like a dance of careful words and bold action. It was a language he spoke fluently, if not a little rusty. He learned from trial and error; they all did. 

Jason moved to speak, but Roy continued.  He was steady against Jason's burning anger, painfully similar to Dick when they were teens. "Jay, you know I love you, man, but I need you to let me take the lead." 

"Because you know him so well." Jason spat.

"I do." Roy agreed, keeping himself calm.  He was ready for the lashing out. It was a trait shared between both former Robins. 

"How the fuck would you know? You haven't been part of his life in ages." Jason countered; he was grasping at anything to make it hurt.

Roy chose not to answer him, instead redirecting and de-escalating.  “It doesn't have to be forever. Just get some air; maybe grab us dinner from somewhere.”  

Jason snarled, but his shoulders dropped slightly; Roy counted it as a win. 

“We’ll be here when you get back,” Roy reassured. He reached a hand out to place it on Jason's shoulder, only for him to flinch out of reach.  Roy sighed.  He ran a hand through his hair and collapsed back onto the couch.  For all the ways Jason and Dick were similar, there was still a valley of differences. Years with Bruce and his honeyed words made them suspicious, taking promises with gains of salt. They both worked in action. Dick depended on comfort: a hand on the shoulder or a supportive shoulder to lean on, whereas Jason didn't like being touched. Jason needed acts of service: for someone to bring food or for you to just show up, and Dick would always expect some catch. 

Jason eyed Roy with suspicion. He was still clutching his gun in a tight white-knuckled grip. 

“You’re right,” Roy continued, “ I haven’t been there for him in a long time, too long. But I haven’t forgotten. I have years of navigating an injured and stubborn Grayson.  I’ve been there on the anniversary of his parent's death. I know their birthdays and wedding anniversary. I’ve comforted Dick through death. Jay,” Roy blinked at him, “I was there when he found out about your death." he admitted like it was some deep secret. "And I know you don't want to hear it, but your death broke him in ways I've never seen. What Bruce did to him wasn't even a blip on his radar in comparison." 

Jason flinched; the back of his legs caught the coffee table, and he barely caught himself from falling. Roy was right; Jason didn't want to know because it was much easier to focus on what Bruce did than to think about the context.

"I was there when Bruce died, and Donna died, and Wally was lost in the speedforce. I was there through the shitshows with Slade and Two-Face.”  Roy continued with a look of deep desperation as if trying to prove it to himself just as much as Jason.

“You don't go through hell without coming back the knowledge.  I might not have been there for whatever happened to his Bludhaven apartment or his death or know who this woman is, but I know how to guide Dick back.”

Jason felt hollow and empty, his ears ringing. Roy's voice kept him from floating away.

“I know what it is like to trip over yourself to offer him comfort. I know what it is like to hit the brick wall of stubbornness that is Dick Grayson. I know you want to be here. I want to help.  But I need you to understand when I tell you to shut the fuck up; it is for a good reason.”

Jason opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find something to say.  

Roy stood again. He made an aborted move to clap Jason on the arm; instead, he offered an understanding smile, “I know,” He said, eyes sad and smile painfully comforting. “You’ll learn.” Roy said, “We’ll get him through this. We’ll deal with the drive and that shitshow. And when it’s all calmed down, I’ll have Donna get out the Powerpoint.”

Jason ignored the lingering questions of Two-Face, Slade, and all the other names Roy had just dropped. “Powerpoint?” Jason rasped, his voice rough and wet. 

Roy was smart enough not to comment, “It’s basically an instructional manual on caring for Dick Grayson. It’s probably grown, but it was around 93 minutes the last time I saw it."

Jason pushed away the feeling of jealousy before he could figure out if it was jealousy of Dick for having such caring friends or Dick’s friends because they have gotten close enough to his brother.  

“Food?” Jason prompted.  

Roy nodded in encouragement. “There should be an Indian place two blocks north or a Korean barbecue place east.  Really head in any direction, and you should hit something."

Dick retreated into Donna's bedroom and into the bathroom.  His breath was quick and painful. He went for the tub; it was large and free-standing with all of the top-of-the-line features and half the reason Donna chose the apartment in the first place. 

Dick wrenched the faucet on, turning the temperature up. He could feel her hands running up and down his arms. Her fingers were around his neck and scraping down his back. 

He itched at his arms, desperate for it to fill faster. He ignored the shower, the thought of rain sending shivers down his back

It was just deep enough to dunk his head when he climbed in, fully clothed and still with bandages. The water burned, biting at his open wounds and searing away her touch. He ducked under the water, letting the roar of the filling tub chase away his thoughts.