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“Anyone want seconds?” Jason panted softly, making sure his voice rang clear when he spoke again. “It’s an all you can eat buffet of whoop ass so don’t be shy!” A small groan was the only reply from the mess of henchmen sprawled around him in the poorly lit construction site.
The thrill of victory coursed through him. Batman helped take down a few before he went after the leader and explosives, leaving the rest to Robin. Jason couldn’t wait to show Bruce, see that look of pride because all his training paid off. He was a good Robin who could be trusted and hold his own.
But it wasn’t a flawless victory. He glanced down at his left arm and swallowed hard. Blood leaked from a rip in the sleeve, rivulets running down his forearm. Jason knew, from the moment the hammer came crashing down, that it was broken.
He tried to make a weak, trembling fist but barely closed his hand halfway before his stomach was rolling. It was a dull but strong pain, one that sent a tingling numbness through him and made his head swim.
“It’s fine,” He mumbled to himself, taking several deep breaths. There must be some spare wood laying around. Or metal rods. Anything. “Put together a makeshift splint and–”
A gun clattered behind him.
Jason whirled around, yellow cape flaring, body falling into a fighting stance before he could think twice, fists coming up. Pain spiked through his arm and up into his shoulder, so strong his knees buckled. Stars burst like fireworks before his eyes, hiding the commotion from him. Only when the lone figure spoke did he recognize them.
“Surprise!” Nightwing said cheerfully, foot planted on the back of his would-be attacker like a mountain climber. “I’m back from my trip! I was gonna ambush you at home but I was eavesdropping on the comms and thought I’d bust a few heads with you. Looks like I got here too late.”
Jason blinked a few times. He was excited to see Dick, it felt like forever since they hung out outside of costume, but right now his mind was focused on one thing only. “Whoop ass buffet is closed, sorry.” Gingerly, he lowered his arm. Play it cool, play it cool– A cross between a wince and a whimper escaped as he straightened his arm.
“Little Wing?” In one fluid movement, Dick closed the space between them, hands hovering around his arm. “What happened?”
“Think I broke it.” Jason said hoarsely. He bit his lip, eyes watering. “Dick it hurts so bad.”
“I know.” His big brother soothed, guiding him with firm hands to a metal beam where he could sit. “Once it’s set it’ll feel better. Try not to move it until then, okay?”
Doing his best not to jostle Jason's arm, Dick checked the wound, gently probing it and asking Jason to grab his hand as hard as he could. Which wasn’t much. Sighing, he crouched in front of Jason and squeezed his knee. “It's definitely in rough shape. I'm gonna call dad and let him know. Hey...it’s ok if you wanna cry. I cried when I broke my arm.”
“‘m not a baby.”
Dick gave him a toothy grin as a traitorous tear escaped from under Jason’s domino mask and rolled down his cheek. “Yeah, I forgot you’re fourteen and all grown up.” He gently wiped the tear away before pressing a finger to his ear. “Heya Bats, I found your little bird. Also, hi, I’m home.”
“‘m not little either.” Jason kicked lightly at Nightwing’s ankles. The man nimbly hopped back and stuck his tongue out.
“Good.” There was a note of relief in Bruce’s voice. “Welcome home, Nightwing. How’s the situation with Robin?”
“Out of danger. But there’s a 90% chance that Little Wing's arm is broken. From the looks of it, I say a clinic is needed.”
There was an ominous silence before Bruce growled, “Go. Get into plain clothes and see Leslie. I’ll follow shortly.”
“Promise?” Jason blurted out.
“Yes, I promise, son.” Bruce said in a much softer voice. “Once GCPD arrives I’m leaving.”
Using his escrima sticks, Dick immobilized Jason’s arm. Jason only cried a little at the intense throbs of pain, determined to be as tough and unflappable as his dad. Once they were secured, a semblance of relief washed over him.
“Better?” Dick asked and he nodded. “Alright then, kiddo.” Dick scooped him up in his arms. “Let’s go get you a cast. Whaddya say, backyard BMX accident?”
Jason wanted to protest being carried but truthfully, this wasn’t all bad. His legs felt like jelly anyway. “Yeah,” He leaned his head against Dick’s shoulder with a soft sniffle as they headed towards the Batmobile Bruce was sending their way. “Sounds cool.”
“Suuuper cool. Totally rad. Epic bro.”
Against his will Jason smiled, Dick’s own grin widening in response. “You’re such a dork.”
+++
He felt the kick coming before he saw it. A slight disturbance of air on an utterly still night. Red Hood dropped flat on the ground, face inches away from the blood creeping across the rooftop. A spinning kick split the air above him. Just his fucking luck.
Jason swept his legs in a wide arc, trying to take out his attacker’s footing before they could even find it. “Aren’t you getting tired of this same old song and dance?”
“You certainly don’t seem to be since you’re back in Gotham.” Nightwing avoided his feet, landing lightly as he drew his escrima with a spin. For a moment neither moved, staring each other down.
Jason lunged first, firing from his still warm guns at Nightwing’s feet, forcing him to sacrifice solid footing. If Dick was able to get behind him with a flip then he could kiss any advantage goodbye. Then they were trading blows, neither holding back their vicious hits.
Jason's body armor took most of the impact for him. Though not many hits got through. Their styles may have evolved over the years but there was still a familiarity that came from training together for so long. An old dance they still remembered most of the steps to. Even if it was a tainted version of it.
An escrima cracked mercilessly across his helmet, hard enough that Jason’s teeth clacked together. “You really hate me this much, Goldie?” Jason laughed as he stumbled back, “For shooting one scumbag trafficker?”
“Not just him. Or the others.” Fury twisted Dick’s face, visible even with his mask on. “You tried to kill Robin.” He spat, voice trembling with the effort of not shouting.
“Replacement?” Jason let out another mirthless laugh. “That was months ago! Besides, Batman can go find another off the street–”
“He’s just a kid!” Now Dick was yelling, muscle straining in his neck. He stabbed an escrima at Jason. “He’s a kid! And you beat him half to death and left him there–”
“I was a fucking kid too!” Jason shouted, cutting him off. Green rage exploded across his vision, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a while. But God did it feel good. He wanted to soak in it like before, let the bloodlust dictate his actions. It would be so much easier than this. “But I don’t see anyone chasing down my killer! None of you lifted a finger except to erase me!”
“That’s not true–”
“I’m doing what needs to be done to actually clean up Gotham!” Jason stabbed a finger at the body on the rooftop, two precise bullet holes in it. “He fucking deserved to die! And I’m not sorry!”
“It’s not for us to decide.” Dick was breathing heavily but kept his stance tall and open. Ready to move any which way with his freaky agility. “We’re supposed to be better than them!”
“All you do is talk, you never listen! We’re already judge and jury,” Jason drew his dagger, spinning it into a backwards hold as he settled into a fighting stance. “Why not take it one step further and finish the job?”
He lunged left. But as Dick shifted his weight, predictably twisting his body to the right for an evasive flip, Jason snapped his arm out. The blade sliced through the air, tip of it catching in the black and blue Kevlar weave. He was already anticipating the resistance as it bit into the skin. The iron scent of blood in the air.
But none of that happened.
Hands clamped tight around his wrist instead and the world flipped upside down. Jason landed on his back with a grunt, lungs spasming. A sparking escrima appeared at his throat. Dick leaned over him, but made no move to restrain him. In fact his previous anger seemed to be slipping away, the escrima incrementally lowering.
“Please.” Dick begged in a low voice. “Please, I just got you back. Don’t make me choose between my brothers. You’re still my brother Jay. But I don’t...I feel like I don’t know you anymore and it scares me.” He was tripping over his hasty words, desperate to get them out before it was too late.
Jason’s heart lurched involuntarily. He sneered, baring his teeth even though the helmet hid his face. “Maybe you never really did.” His knee jerked up, colliding with something soft. Dick coughed harshly and Jason kicked him off before running to the edge of the roof and diving into the night.
+++
A foul mood didn’t even begin to describe how Jason was feeling over the next few days. Dick’s angry accusations and stupid pleas were marching endlessly though his head. Honestly, Jason had half a mind to bang his head against the nearest wall until his ears rang. Anything but this torture.
“ ‘Don’t make me choose’ ,” Jason muttered under his breath as he stalked across the rooftop, loading his guns. “What a fucking joke.” Bruce chose inside that warehouse. Dick chose every time they fought on the rooftops. They chose to replace him. The golden boy could handle one more choice. And a seemingly easy one at that.
Flicking off the safety, Jason planted a foot on the ledge and looked down at the clump of drug runners he was targeting tonight. He’d been too good of a crime boss. Cleaning up after himself was a pain in the ass.
But before he could make another move, Nightwing came darting out of the alley shadows, taking a man down with graceful moves. Jealousy sprung up in Jason, as if the night wasn’t shitty enough already.
“Son of a bitch.” He snarled, shoving his gun back into his thigh holster. Fuming, he crossed his arms, watching Nightwing brawl with the ten men. Maybe he’d find a shitty dive bar and start a fight there instead. Because God did he need to punch something now.
Fighting such a large group solo, without guns, seemed ill-advised. But Jason didn’t care. If anything it might feel good to see Dickface get his ass handed to him. It was down to six now. Nightwing took a few good hits and was starting to slow down. He must not be focused because Jason knew Dick could handle the pain.
Another man fell. But Nightwing was still surrounded. One managed to wrench a pipe free of a garbage pile and swung. Jason’s body tensed instinctively as the metal collided with Dick’s head, ringing low and hollow.
Shocked at landing the hit, the man froze, watching Dick stagger. “You better move pal.” Jason sang to himself. Nightwing spun and tore the pipe from the man’s hands, using it to bring him down in two hits. “Told ya, idiot.”
There was no question that Dick was slowing down now. His legs were unsteady, moves sloppy in a way only Jason’s trained eye caught. When Dick dropped to one knee, Jason lurched forward, poised to leap. His hand hovered by his gun.
No.
Jason forced himself back off the ledge. He didn’t care. Dick didn’t care when he died so why should Jason care now? Green rage swirled in his chest.
Fuck him.
Fuck Nightwing, fuck Batman, fuck Replacement, and fuck Joker for good measure. They can all go to hell and Jason would watch them all burn with a smile and–
Gentle hands burst through the green haze, tenderly checking a bleeding wound, followed by a comforting smile, his big brother searching him out, saving him.
Swearing angrily, Red Hood leapt from the ledge, crashing down on a pusher about to stab Dick. His arm snapped up, shooting the two on his right.
“No!” Dick yelped. He tried to lurch to his feet but only succeeded in almost falling flat on his face.
“Oh shut up. ” Jason turned and punched the man running up behind him. “Non-lethal for your bitchy ass.” The last dealer went down easy and Jason turned to Nightwing. Blood dripped down the side of Dick’s face, a chunk of his hair damp with it.
Something tugged at Jason, made him want to check the wound. He took a step back instead. “You call for backup?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.
Dick nodded, his head hanging. “Batman is on his way. You have four minutes.” He was sitting now, knees bent, arms resting limply across them. He looked...broken. Not just by the wound but by whatever caused him to be off his game in the first place.
Jason wanted to be satisfied, find some malicious pleasure in it, but he couldn’t. So he settled for indifference instead. “Only need seconds.” He turned away and pulled out his grapple gun.
A strong grip seized his sleeve. Dick took a rattling breath. “I-I killed him.”
Ice flooded Jason’s veins. He ground to a stop, glad his hood covered the shock on his face as he stared forward at the grimy bricks and oil slicked pavement. Dick Grayson...killed? The golden boy? The perfect Robin?
“Who?” He forced the word out. Who was worth breaking the code for?
“Joker.” Dick’s voice was soft, almost mournful. The ground rolled under Jason’s feet and he sucked in a sharp breath. “He told me he killed Tim. He started taunting me about your death, how he hurt you, how you cried, and I couldn’t...I was so angry. I hit him and I...I didn’t want to stop. So I didn’t.”
Jason swallowed hard. Head wound meant trauma. This was just a fantasy. Dick was hallucinating and none of it was real. It had to be a lie because...because Jason didn't know what to think otherwise. “He’s still breathing if you haven’t noticed.”
The grip tightened, as if in anticipation of what was coming. “B resuscitated him.”
What the actual fuck.
“After I killed him I…” There was the distant sound of liquid dripping. Jason didn’t know if it was tears or blood. “I couldn’t handle the guilt...I panicked and B did it to save me. I’m sorry.”
You’re not a killer, Dick. You have a hell of a temper but you’re not me. You’re good.
The words rose to Jason’s throat but his mouth stayed clamped shut. His four minutes were about to be up but he feet wouldn’t move. Time felt like a rubber band being stretched thinner and thinner as it dragged on. Suddenly Dick grabbed his hand, so tight the bones ground together, and in a cracking voice said, “I’ve never hated you, Little Wing. Never.”
Little Wing.
The rubber band snapped. Jason yanked his hand away, stumbling forward. He didn’t look back, only fired his grapple and broke into a dead sprint across the rooftops as Nightwing called after him. He didn’t dare stop until he was sure neither Batman or Robin were following him. Then he picked his way back across Gotham until he reached his run down apartment in the Narrows.
The shitty studio apartment was still and dark. Jason yanked off his helmet and let the silence wash over him, taking deep breaths until the unnerving tremble faded from his hands. Only then did he turn on a light and begin shucking off equipment with methodical movements. No thoughts beyond utility.
It wasn’t until he was sitting on his fire escape in sweats and a threadbare tee, a cigarette clamped between his lips, that he let the night replay through his mind. Jason took a long drag, leaned back against the rough brick, and exhaled slowly as his eyes fell closed.
An acid taste crept through his mouth, cutting through the smoke. It wasn’t hard to imagine the things Joker must’ve said. He struggled to keep his dreams free of them. Bore the scar of them. But some sick part of him wanted to know. Wanted to hear exactly what tipped Dick over the edge.
Because, holy shit, Dick killed the Joker. Beat him to death. Broke the code for Jason. Which meant Dick did care. He did something, even if Bruce undid it a moment later. Fuck, how twisted was that? Saving your son’s killer to save another son?
Then again, perhaps Bruce stopped seeing Jason that way. Or he never saw him that way. Maybe all those memories of Bruce calling him ‘son’ with a sincere smile, pressing kisses to his hair before sending him off to bed or school, holding Jason tight the first time he called him dad...maybe they were just pit-fueled fantasies created to self-soothe.
But something about that possibility made him want to scream and wreak his entire apartment. The same way he wanted to wildly sob at the thought of Dick killing the Joker.
Jason opened his eyes, tapping off ash. The rusting metal was cold and rough against his bare feet but he pressed them harder into the rungs anyway. The ache of it helped override the lingering twitchiness of adrenaline. Feelings swirled around and around in his chest, like a whirlpool. Only there was nowhere for them to drain.
A pang of hunger redirected his thoughts at last. Jason crushed the cigarette and climbed back through the window. Enough thinking for one night.
+++
Who was he kidding? Thinking was inescapable. Even washing the dishes Jason found his mind wandering.
Why did he come back to Gotham? Why didn’t he leave after his plan failed and Bruce refused to kill the Joker? Why was he cleaning up the crime empire he founded instead of reaping it’s bloody rewards?
Why did he care that Dick didn’t recognize him?
The pit was to blame for some of it, the green tinted madness responsible for bringing him to life. It was practically smothering. Talia hadn’t tried to banish it. Instead she stoked the fire, winding him up like a ticking time bomb. And like the good little puppet he was, he ran straight to Titans Tower and that warehouse to do her dirty work. Left a trail of death and blood through Gotham and laughed the whole time.
He still felt it, noticed that feral rage creeping in on the peripheral...but it wasn’t as constant. In the three months he spent away from Gotham after his confrontation with Bruce he could feel it’s claws begin retracting from him. Now when he looked back at that night in the Tower…
“Do you really think you’re that good now?” Jason demanded, bo staff clenched in bloody gloves. “Do you really, Tim?”
Robin lay twisted in pain on the floor. Blood was splattered across his face. Still he stubbornly whispered a single word between gasping breaths.
“Yes.”
Jason let out in a sharp exhale, soapy hands gripping the edge of the sink. Had that vicious cruelty been him or the pit? What about the warehouse after that? The duffle bag? Did he even want to know? Did it matter? Because it backed up what Dick said and led to another truth.
It hurt when Dick said he didn’t know him. Hurt more than Jason wanted to admit, like Dick twisted a knife Jason didn’t realize was plunged in his chest. Because...all he wanted was his family back. As much as he tried to deny it, they were the only reason he came back to this godforsaken city.
Which is why seeing someone else by Batman’s side hurt worse than a crowbar.
Longing drowned out the other swirling feelings, filling his chest until Jason wiped his hands off and paced the long room, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair. Dick not hating him was both relieving and terrifying. Because even if he wanted what he used to have...he wasn’t a bright eyed fifteen year old anymore.
He wasn’t Little Wing.
Besides, Jason wasn’t sure how to even approach the concept of being civil with any of the Bats. Or if they’d be interested. Maybe Dick only said those things because he thought Jason would never want the same. He was a killer after all. Blood dripped from his hands. He could see Bruce’s disappointed eyes, judging him–
“Enough!” Jason shouted into the silent apartment. The buzz in his mind was a roar now. He clapped hands over his ears as if that would do anything to block out the noise. “Enough, enough, enough!” Green poked into view but he took several deep breaths until it vanished. Until he was back in control.
Wallowing got him nowhere. Time to clean his guns, sort case notes, and get some sleep before another night of hunting gang members. As he reached for his holsters, his eyes caught on a slightly ridged scar near his left elbow.
His finger twitched, wanting to trace the scar. It was a permanent reminder of a minor surgery to make sure his arm was perfectly set. And of nights spent in a cave that felt like home, with people who made him feel loved.
Jason let out a loud sigh. Fuck. It was going to be a long night.
+++
“Look how skinny it is, dad!” Jason whined as he held up both arms in the backseat of the car. Alfred gave him an amused glance through the rearview mirror. “I have a right arm and a twig!” His left wrist was knobby and pale from being sheathed in a red cast for months. Every sensation felt bizarre on his bare skin.
Dick stopped humming along to the 80’s pop on the car radio. “Looks the same to me.” He said. Jason chucked a half-full water bottle at him.
“A month or so of physical therapy and it’ll be back to it’s old strength,” Bruce chuckled, “Don’t worry, Jaylad.”
“I thought I’d be back out on patrol tonight!” With a long, anguished groan, Jason flopped back in his seat like a dead fish. “This sucks . I don’t wanna be stuck at home anymore!”
“It’s not so bad Little Wing! I’ll still keep you company when I’m free. Now that your cast is gone we can finally get back on the training mats.”
“Whoopee.” Jason grunted unhappily, poking at his arm. “My surgery scar is gonna look ugly.” It was a curve of red, a sharp and jarring contrast to the pale skin around it.
“It’ll fade over time. See?” Dick rolled up his sleeve to reveal a similar pale, crescent shaped scar by his right elbow. “We match!”
A thrill leapt through Jason as they compared scars. “Is...is that okay?” Because while Dick was possibly the coolest person to walk the earth (not that Jason would ever tell him that), maybe he didn’t want to permanently match his kid brother.
“Who’s the dork now?” With a laugh, Dick mussed up his hair. “Of course it’s okay!”
“Knock it off!” Jason batted his hands away but couldn’t muster up any annoyance. Instead he dropped his voice to a whisper, glancing at Bruce to make sure he wasn’t listening. “Do you think we could go to the roofs soon? No patrol, just for a race. Please?”
There was a conspiratorial gleam in Dick’s eye. He leaned in close. “If you do all your PT for two weeks, I promise we’ll race.”
Jason didn’t even bother trying to hide his cheer.
+++
Jason steered clear of Batman and Nightwing for the next few weeks. Avoiding Robin was a non-issue. He never seemed to be far from Batman’s side, at least when the Red Hood was around.
One night, when Jason wandered too far from the Narrows tracking a drug shipment, he spotted them. Batman and Robin, talking on a rooftop blocks away, capes catching in the wind. Jason paused and watched them out of morbid curiosity, positive they wouldn't notice him from such a distance.
But Replacement did. He froze at first, head stopping mid swivel as he scanned the surrounding city. Jason fully expected him to shout and alert Batman. Instead Robin fully turned to face him, staff planted by his side as he stared across the buildings. Even though it was too far to see his face in detail, his body language said it all for him.
Unbroken and unafraid.
At least on the outside.
Jason would’ve taken off after his attacker, eager to settle the score. Restraint was something he’d always been working on. Replacement on the other hand...he didn’t budge. The challenge was clear; if Red Hood wanted a fight he would get one, but Robin was in control here.
Maybe...Tim was better after all.
Jason left before Batman could notice.
+++
Tonight Jason was several blocks away from Nightwing’s patrol route, brazenly standing out in the open. He still wasn’t sure why. Or what he was doing. Only that he needed to do it. The idea had been plaguing him for the past week and a half since it flitted through his mind.
Being murdered stripped him of control. Being resurrected and manipulated stripped even more of it. And Jason desperately needed it back. It was his choice to try and that’s all that mattered. If it failed, it failed and the nagging would finally fall silent. If it worked...well he’d cross that bridge later.
Shortly after midnight, Nightwing appeared. Gliding through the air like he was more at home there than with both feet on the ground. When he saw Jason he landed on the nearest roof, whipping out his escrima.
Jason took a step back, heart pounding. He’d dropped several significant bodies this week. No way Dick would give him a pass. Sure enough, Nightwing began sprinting towards him. Like always, Jason fled.
But this time, when Nightwing began to close the gap between them, Jason slowed instead of doing a tricky maneuver meant to lose him. This time, he climbed onto the next level of a roof using a flashy parkour move. One he used when he and Dick would have rooftop races.
At first there was no reaction. Dick followed Jason with a similar move but his body language still read aggression. Shit. But Jason tried again, doing a slightly unnecessary wall run to leap and grab a ledge where he perched tauntingly. Surprise flashed across Dick’s face. Followed by a smirk as he stowed his escrima.
And then they were racing. There was no finish line, just running alongside each other without malice for the first time in over five years. Dick’s advantage was in his flips. But Jason was faster than he’d been at sixteen and agile despite his size. Even though Dick had to push hard to keep up with him as they vaulted over streets, he was grinning the entire time.
Only when Jason needed to catch his breath did they stop, both bent over panting. They still didn’t speak. Dick nodded at him hesitantly, as if he expected Jason to whip out his gun and shoot him dead. But Jason simply returned the nod. Another beat passed before they swung off in different directions to continue patrol.
Nothing was fixed. Anger and hurt still sat heavy in Jason’s heart. Alongside the fear that he would never be happy again and any attempt to be would end like it did in Sarajevo. With disappointment and fire.
But this...it appeased some of the longing in his chest, drained some of the whirlpool. It was a reminder to both of them that even though he’d changed...Joker and the pit hadn’t stolen and twisted all of him.
Before he set to work cleaning his guns that night, Jason hesitantly ran a finger over the scar on his arm. He couldn’t help but wonder if across Gotham his big brother was doing the same, tracing the smooth yet slightly lumpy skin. And if he also felt like, for the first time in years, there was a sliver of hope.