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Chapter Text

Jason didn’t understand why bad things kept happening to him . 

Sure, he had returned to Gotham with an agenda and an arsenal of weapons, but no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to escape compounding injuries that left both his body and his mind weak. After all, he faced danger from the moment he first opened his eyes. Coming back as Red Hood didn’t seem to change that.  

Steady droplets of water plopped down from the ceiling, landing on his scalp in a never ending loop. After two days in chains the noise pounded in his ears and his neck ached from having to continuously flick the liquid coating his face, adorned with a domino mask rather than his helmet. 

Thus far he refrained from drinking it in case his captors poisoned the fluid. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out, or if the sporadic globs would do anything to quench his thirst. 

Dehydration left him disoriented and he regretted spending the weekend with a beer in his hands rather than a glass of water. After his resuscitation he struggled to adjust to previously familiar flavors, most meals resulting in sour taste buds that lasted far beyond gulps of mouthwash and toothbrushes that frayed from violent use on his own tongue. 

Water had the same acrid taste of the dirt he choked on as he clawed himself from his grave. He tried his best to adjust, going through dozens of brands to find the least nauseating. Dick had even bought him a new water filter for his kitchen faucet with a purifying pitcher to match. 

Dick . 

A memory of his older brother flashed on Jason’s closed eyelids. He pictured Dick barreling headfirst into a drug bust mere minutes after Jason sent a distress signal to the Batcave. It had aggravated him to see Bludhaven’s beloved vigilante crash through a warehouse window and clean up Jason’s mess with ease. 

They didn’t speak for the following week. Dick never pressed for appreciation, but Jason remembered the pure elation on his brother’s face when he finally approached him during patrol. 

And now, when Jason truly needed him, Dick didn’t show. Again.

A weak cough echoed in the decrepit prison. Jason shifted as much as possible to get a better look at the person chained to the wall in the cell beside him. The new Robin slumped against rusted metal, his body so still it mirrored a corpse. 

The only means of knowing that the teen had survived this far came from broken whimpers and rasping breath. 

When Jason came back to Gotham he possessed a glimmer of hope that Bruce would still want him. But the first time he stalked his father during a routine patrol he caught a glimpse of the newest kid to hold Robin’s mantle. It took everything in his power not to rush headfirst into a fight. 

Over the next few months Jason kept a careful eye on Wayne Manor and Titans Tower, taking note of every habit his replacement possessed to better prepare for battle. He wanted nothing more than to knock this Robin down, to show the kid that Batman wouldn’t protect him when it really mattered. 

But then Jason followed him to the mansion next door and realized the two had more in common than he expected. Both abandoned by the people meant to care for them the most. Both desperate to find someone to belong to.

He didn’t want to learn the kid’s name, but he heard the boy’s mother over the answering machine explain that she decided to extend her vacation to Costa Rica and for Timothy to call Mr. Wayne in case of emergency. 

Jason watched Tim through cracks in the blinds for the entire weekend, trying over and over again to attack while he had the chance. When the kid finally journeyed to Wayne Manor Jason pulled away. But the memory of a child sitting stone faced at an empty kitchen table stuck with him. 

“Robin,” Jason’s throat tightened, “Come on, you’ve got to stay awake.” 

“Why?” his counterpart mumbled, “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t feel like getting the lecture from Batman when another one of his Robins drops dead,” Jason snapped. 

“Batman can shove it,” Tim grunted, “At least you’re in Gotham. At least you’re here .” 

The words took Jason aback. He expected the most recent Robin to still worship the ground that Batman walked on, not be so quick to criticize him. Every interaction he had with Tim forced him to question his own anger. He wanted to hate the kid, but he kept experiencing twinges of sympathy when they spoke. 

“You’d better watch how you talk about the old man,” Jason grimaced, “There’s a lot of street rats with black hair and blue eyes for him to latch onto. Trust me.”

Tim whimpered and a flash of regret passed through Jason. When he attempted to get a good look at the kid’s face he noticed him wiggling in place.

“ Stop that ,” he demanded. 

“Hurts,” Tim breathed. 

His wrists had been tied beside his head so that his biceps ran perpendicular to his forearms. Beneath his right arm sat a potted bamboo stalk, its height rapidly increasing during their captivity. It broke through his suit earlier in the day, the plant digging into his skin. 

“It’ll hurt more if you switch its position. You wouldn’t yank the knife out of a stab wound, would you?” 

“I mean,” Tim croaked, “If I needed a weapon…” 

Jason laughed, the sudden movement sending shockwaves from his chest to his feet. It gave him a miniature jolt of adrenaline, clearing his head enough to assess their situation for the fiftieth time since they ended up in dirty cages. Nothing had changed thus far; they hadn’t even seen another person since their initial capture. 

He needed to keep Tim talking to ensure his consciousness, but every attempt left him dizzier. Jason could feel his lips flaking away, scraping against his cotton tongue with each word. The skin on his face and hands wrinkled, lines far more pronounced and brittle. 

Of course, he had seen worse, but the slow torture did far more damage than he expected in such a short period of time. The lack of a mirror allowed him greater delusion of his current state, even with the brief glimpses he caught of Tim suffering across the room. 

“He’s going to be so mad at me,” he sniffled. 

“Hey, no crying,” Jason commanded. 

He took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to be gentler with Tim in such a precarious situation. He couldn’t help but lash out when afraid, and the thought of his counterpart dying of dehydration before their third day sent shivers down his spine. 

They still had time. They would make it out of here alive. They had survived worse in the past. They could argue later over whose mistake landed them here in the first place. 

They had time, they had time, they had time. 

“Listen, Batman isn’t… he won’t be mad at you, kid,” Jason sighed, “You’re his Robin, right? It’s kind of an unspoken rule to go a little easier on the sidekicks.” 

“You don’t get it ,” Tim accused. 

Jason gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream every pent up piece of anger he stifled to keep from going off of the deep end. He worried that the second he stepped into the rage that left him unrecognizable to those that knew him before he would lose himself. 

Before he could launch into his own insecurities he heard Tim’s boot scuff the floor. 

“He only took me in because I figured out his identity,” he whispered, “He only took me in because he missed you .” 

“Stop being an asshole,” Jason seethed. 

“What, you think I’m kidding?” Tim continued, “I’m no good at that either. You’re the funny one. You’re the one that knows how to tell a story. You’re the one that everyone wants to be around.” 

Jason stuttered over a response in his bewilderment. Had Tim not been on the verge of delirium he would’ve expected the claim to be a targeted attack. But Jason recognized deep seated pain that mirrored his own of the kid he always deemed an inadequate successor. 

He knew how it felt to be replaced, but he had never considered what Tim experienced in being the surrogate for Batman’s dead son. 

“Robin, you’re being tortured. You’re dehydrated and haven’t eaten in days,” Jason’s voice caught, “You’re confused .”

“My own parents didn’t even care about me,” Tim hiccupped, “They’d probably be happy to see me tied up like this. And now Batman will hate me because I got you killed again -” 

“Fuck your parents,” Jason cut him off, “We’re going to survive this, do you hear me?” 

The idea of his adopted father missing him sparked feelings of hope and fondness within Jason, urging him to question if he could ever truly belong at Wayne Manor again. Bruce shut him out just as easily as he took him in and Jason recognized Tim’s fear of having the same exact thing happen to him if he made a mistake in the field. 

Tim stopped talking for a few minutes, sniffling less frequently than before. Jason relaxed somewhat, straining his ears to keep track of his counterpart’s breathing pattern. He hoped that the kid wouldn’t ask him for his plan, as it stalled at keeping them both calm. 

“So, who told you I’m funny,” Jason tried again to start a conversation. 

“Take a wild guess,” Tim offered half a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, Nightwing has a pretty shit sense of humor, kid.” 

“Do you think he’s trying to find us?”  

Once again Jason thought about Dick sprinting in his direction, using his escrima sticks to incapacitate every assailant surrounding him during a particularly dangerous mission as Robin. The younger brother had been so angry at being coddled that he screamed until his face burned bright red. 

But Dick didn’t apologize. He apologized for everything else that he ever did, over and over again, but he never expressed regret over swooping in to save the day. 

His stupid, perfect big brother who knew how to do everything without even trying. The original Robin that never agreed to have his title ripped from his grasp but allowed Jason to keep the name anyway. 

Jason despised himself for wishing on every droplet of water that Dick would find him once again.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked through the door the second I finish this sentence,” Jason comforted, unsure as to whether or not he truly believed his own claim. 

And then, as if on cue, alarm bells rang out. 

Tim wailed in pain from his sudden flinch and Jason curved himself around to look at the kid, his wrists digging into the chains so hard that he bled beneath his gloves. He struggled to hear his cries of pain over heavy footsteps thudding in their direction, an array of voices calling over one another. 

Having his back to the door made it more difficult for Jason to figure out what happened around him, but he continued to turn in spite of the pain. If he could just manage to break free before their captors entered they had a chance of survival. 

“Robin,” he called, “Robin, I’m going to get loose. I swear, I’ll-” 

The siren cut suddenly, the room shrouded in silence for all of three seconds before Jason heard the first screams. Gunshots rang out, clouding terrified voices that pleaded for backup. His head pounded harder than before, and though he did his best to prevent it Jason leaned forward and vomited the little bile he had left onto the floor. Once he started gagging he couldn’t stop, trying to get past the retching so that he didn’t lose focus. 

“Red Hood,” Tim’s voice faltered over the chaos, his next words too warbled to decipher. 

The fighting came closer and closer to the jail cells and Jason managed to lift his head enough to see shadows projected on the wall through the door’s small window. Three people held weapons, two handguns and what appeared to be an assault rifle. Bright light flashed from the hurried bullets, but it cut abruptly. 

Jason watched the outline of an escrima stick soar through the air, smacking one of the assailants directly in the forehead and releasing a massive bolt of electricity alongside it. The first gunman dropped out of sight, another turning to look at their counterpart just long enough for the new fighter to land a kick on the back of their head. 

“I’ll kill you for what you did to them. I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you .”

And even though Jason knew whose mouth the words came from he didn’t believe it. 

Another shadow, no, a person stood in the doorway, cape riddled with bullet holes from the ongoing skirmish. Jason looked at Tim, ready to do everything in his power to protect the kid from further harm. 

“Robin? Red Hood?” 

As he moved to dig further into his wrists he recognized the symbol on the woman’s chest. 

Batgirl .

“We’re alive,” Jason groaned, “Barely.” 

“Oh my god,” Barbara ran in their direction, “Oh my god, they- they told us that you…” 

Her voice trailed off briefly, head turning slowly to look behind her. In the next beat she had her pick jammed into the lock on Tim’s cell. Jason didn’t take it personally, knowing that he would’ve directed her to do the same thing had she approached him first. She moved jerkier than usual, an unprecedented fear apparent in her expression.

“Oh god, oh fuck ,” she muttered, her hands shaking visibly before she managed to get inside. 

Barbara fell to her knees in front of Tim and held his face, checking to make sure that he hadn’t died in the last three minutes. He gurgled a response and she set to work, her movements more sure now that she ensured his consciousness. Jason heard the first lock click on a rare second of quiet before gunfire rang out once more. 

“Careful,” Jason called to her, “The bamboo pierced his skin, maybe we should wait for-” 

Tim’s pained scream cut him off. Barbara muttered to herself, yanking a piece of gauze from her utility belt to wrap the kid’s bicep to keep it from openly bleeding. She bit the rest off with her teeth and placed a strip of medical tape to keep it secure, checking Tim’s eyes once again to make sure he hadn’t passed out. 

“We need to get out of here now ,” she directed. 

Tim staggered forward, tucking himself beneath Barbara’s arm as she made her way to Jason’s cell. She jimmied the lock, propping Tim against the bars to keep him upright. She breathed so raggedly that Jason had half a mind to walk her through his tried and true breathing techniques. 

“They told us that you died the night they took you,” she dropped one of her tools, hand smacking the wet floor to retrieve it, “Probably thought it’d buy them time to get out of Gotham or something, I don’t know.” 

After another thirty seconds his right cuff unclipped, followed shortly by the left. The sleeves of his suit had been torn to shreds in his struggle, and Barbara haphazardly wrapped his wrists in the remainder of the bandage she gave to Tim. Jason pushed her hands away gently, finishing it himself to keep from witnessing her shaking. 

“So Nightwing thinks we’re dead?” Tim asked, face so pale that they could practically see through it. 

“We split up to cover more ground. He was supposed to call me when he found the hideout. I shouldn’t have let him out of my sight, not after last time.” 

Barbara paused, face hard when she bent down to help Jason stand. His legs shook hard enough to knock his knees together, but his focus centered on the tremor in the woman’s voice when she said last time . 

“Last time?” he clarified, but the vomit dried his throat out enough for the question to result in a coughing fit. 

They told him little about Dick’s reaction to his death. Jason always figured that it had to do with his guilt for not grieving him the way that a brother should. Jason heard that Dick didn’t even return to Earth for his funeral, sticking with his mission instead. But from the wild look in Barbara’s eyes and Tim’s sudden desire to run straight into the action he questioned that assumption. 

“So how are we doing this?” Tim wheezed. 

“I brought the Batmobile in case they kept your…” she swallowed, shaking her head, “It’s a small crew for the moment at least, so we should have a clear shot out the back while Nightwing is distracting them.”

“No,” Tim shook his head.

“Robin, I know you want to help out but we’re not exactly in the best shape to get into a fight,” Jason pointed out, “Nightwing only has to hold them off for another few minutes, right? Batgirl can send him a message to meet us.” 

Neither responded. Barbara dropped her face into her hands, her shoulders stuttering until she regained her composure. Tim let his arm hang limply at his side, making no effort to prepare himself for combat. Jason looked between them a few times, waiting for an explanation for their eerie behavior.  

“I’m going,” Tim decided, turning on his heel.

“Robin, no ,” Barbara threw herself in front of him, “If you get hurt he’ll-”

“What?” Tim snapped, “Kill someone? Kill himself ? What do you think his goal is out there, Batgirl? He thinks we’re dead and he doesn’t even know you’re here!” 

“Woah, easy there,” Jason hobbled forward, holding out an arm in front of the kid to keep him from moving forward. 

Tim shoved ahead, surprisingly strong given their previous predicament. Jason took significant effort to stabilize himself, once again reaching for support. He struggled to keep his head clear enough to think straight let alone keep himself afloat, resulting in Barbara swooping in to hold him steady. 

“You don’t get it !” Tim shrieked, “ You weren’t there !” 

“Robin,” Barbara entreated, “Robin it wasn’t your fault, this isn’t your fault.” 

Jason frowned, trying to recall any story from his time away from Gotham that would give him a clue as to what they discussed right in front of him. Dehydration affected him more severely than what he remembered from the days before Red Hood, and he hoped that it wouldn’t continue to worsen the older he got. 

When Jason got sick as a kid Bruce always focused on his vigilante work and left the recovery process to Alfred. But during a particularly bad bout of food poisoning he woke up to see Dick caught between adjusting a cool cloth on his forehead, and offering a sip of water. He had even brought a silly straw from his home in Bludhaven and read from the books that Jason kept at his bedside. 

“Tell me what to do, Robin,” Jason grunted, nodding towards the door. 

Tim looked him up and down as though assessing his physical state. It would’ve made him laugh on a different day given the kid’s concurrent injuries, but the look of unadulterated confidence from the younger kept him silent. 

“Don’t die.” 

Barbara once again attempted to goad them into running away, but Tim bolted into the hall before she had the opportunity. Jason shrugged and followed, his legs nearly giving out when he took a step forward. He persevered, intent on solving the mystery that Barbara and Tim refused to let him in on. 

And, more importantly, save his stupid brother. 

When he exited the room he expected to see a few injured guards, not blood streaked walls and twitching bodies attempting to claw their way to safety. Barbara cursed under her breath and pressed forward, the only thing that kept Jason moving on from the near incomprehensible scene. 

The fluorescent lights flickered, half of the bulbs shattered and exposed wires sparking above them. Bullets meant for Nightwing lined the floor and the walls, their varying sizes still not enough to take the vigilante down in his pursuit for justice. 

But the more Jason saw, the more he recognized vengeance . 

“Nightwing, stop !” 

Tim’s voice rose above cracking electricity, muffled only by rhythmic thudding against the ground. Jason immediately recognized it as the sound that a fist made when connecting with bone. Barbara cursed again and urged him to pick up the pace, her arm still wrapped tightly around his waist. 

“It’s over , they lied , we’re okay-”

Dick released a strangled scream before the pounding heightened. Jason stumbled over his own foot, never having heard a pain so visceral come from the mouth of his older brother. It chilled him to the bone and he pushed himself to near collapse in order to catch up to them as quickly as possible. 

They rounded the corner, Barbara dragging Jason forward when he froze in shock. 

Dick straddled the chest of a man wearing armor half scattered across the room, his helmet having been hurled into the closest wall. Jason watched his brother raise a fist and saw a string of blood drip from his glove. It landed in the guard’s mouth, the sound of sputtering overtaken by another punch to the jaw. 

And Tim stood just a foot away with his good arm outstretched. 

“Robin, get back,” Barbara demanded, but the kid didn’t move. 

Before Jason could second her instructions Tim lunged forward, throwing his full weight directly against Dick’s chest. They both tumbled to the ground, the younger trying to keep him down with only one hand and a barely functional body.

Barbara sprinted forward, leaving Jason to catch himself from falling. 

Dick practically growled, attempting to throw Tim off before Barbara pinned both of the man’s hands beneath her knees. Jason wouldn’t have been surprised if the move broke a few of Dick’s fingers, but he didn’t howl in a way that suggested physical pain. 

“You have to pay for this. He has to pay for this!” 

“Nightwing, look at me,” Tim grabbed his face, “I’m right here, I’m fine! The Robins are alive.” 

“No, no, it’s- it’s a trick. He killed them , he did,” Dick thrashed, “I saw the suits, I saw the… the blood. He told me, he told me he killed them . They’re gone , I know it!” 

Jason managed to catch his breath and pushed through the ache to approach the trio. He glanced briefly at the unconscious man a few feet away, taking a moment to turn him on his side in case he vomited. Barbara and Tim both kept their eyes on Dick, but he saw the woman’s shoulders relax a touch when he held Dick by the ankles. 

“We need to get out of here, Nightwing. But you have to calm down ,” Tim pleaded. 

“But I have to,” Dick rasped, “I have to stop him .” 

Jason couldn’t keep his thoughts straight. Fifteen minutes ago he struggled to think of a single plan that would result in their survival. Now, they had Dick trapped on the ground as he writhed like an animal.

“Dick, listen to me,” Tim softened his voice, “You put the Joker in Arkham months ago.”

“But I hear him .” 

Jason stared unblinking at the scene before him. From the corner of his eye he noticed Barbara look up at him, but he couldn’t move. He did his best to lock every memory of the Joker in a box at the back of his head, and over time those thoughts broke free less and less. 

He never thought to question if his murderer lived in the minds of his family as well. 

“We need to go,” Tim repeated. 

“Robin,” Dick shook his head dazedly. 

Jason looked away, suddenly overcome with nausea at Dick’s lack of concern for him. Of course he worried about the kid instead. Jason could handle himself; he was an adult. But still, he wished to hear his brother call out for him with the same fear in his voice.  

Jason wanted to run away from the feelings that his family continuously forced him to face. But before he had the opportunity to do so he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Your Robin is right here, see?” 

Barbara released her grip on Dick’s wrists and placed a hand on the center of his back to lift him upright. Jason kept his eyes low for a few seconds, still unconvinced that Dick fell apart because he had gotten into trouble. But when he finally met his brother’s gaze every worry he ever held about Dick’s love for him melted away.

Dick reached out to touch him on the cheek in disbelief. 

“Robin,” he whispered, “You’re alive.” 

“I, uh, go by Red Hood now, Wing,” Jason cleared his throat. 

Dick lifted his other hand to card through Tim’s hair, the cognizance coming back into his wild eyes. It only took a minute for him to calm down, recognition setting in as he examined the carnage of his combat. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dick’s voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know what happened. We, um, I- I only brought my bike-”

“The Batmobile is around back. We should get going,” Barbara interrupted. 

“Right, of course,” Dick nodded, voice small. 

He stood slowly, helping both Tim and Jason to their feet. They didn’t take time to run through their wounds, instead leaning on both Dick and Barbara to ensure their escape. They retraced their steps through the same hallway, and though the two eldest kept their eyes straight ahead Jason couldn’t help but take in the scene. 

Dick had a talent for hand to hand combat, every vigilante knew that. But stepping over the aftermath of his brother’s outburst felt like a dream. Even Jason’s stomach twisted at the level of cruelty. Barbara tapped a few buttons on her bracelet to alert Gotham PD and the closest EMTs.

“Batgirl, I-” Dick started.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she readjusted Tim’s arm on her shoulder. 

Jason felt Dick shift beneath him, seemingly drawing him closer rather than supporting him in a more effective way. Jason let his head tip to the side just enough to brush against his brother’s, a quiet show of affection to draw them both away from cyclical thinking.

He understood how it felt to have the Joker lingering at the corner of every negative thought. 

Dick released a slow breath, tilting his own head up to return the gesture. After depriving himself of affection for so long Jason couldn’t help but smile to himself at the warmth in his chest. 

By the time they made it outside his vision clouded with dark circles. He attempted to speak, but he could barely pry his lips apart. Dick set him down in the back, sliding him inward so that he leaned against the window behind the driver’s seat. He welcomed the relief that came with resting his head on the cool glass.

Tim followed soon after, groaning when his arm jostled against his side. Dick offered a small apology, doing his best to position them both in the most comfortable way possible. Jason appreciated the effort, but nothing that Dick did would lessen the blinding white pain he felt with every breath. 

“We’ll be home soon,” Dick murmured, “Everything is going to be okay. Your big brother is here to take care of you, alright?” 

He shut the car door behind him as quietly as possible, but it still elicited a groan from Tim. Jason opened his eyes just long enough to get a view of their Robin dozing off beside him. The kid shifted so that his arm drooped, wrist hitting the seat between them. 

Jason let himself fall limp as well, and pretended that he didn’t intend for his hand to end up on top of Tim’s.

Chapter Text

Vague dreams held Jason hostage as he drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like watching a movie through frosted glass, but as he attempted to follow the plot he found himself further from understanding. He grew bored with the monotony of half baked visions and fought hard against sleep, frustrated with the lack of corresponding movement in his body. 

Every time he nearly reached the surface, exhaustion dragged him back beneath the waves. 

He was unsure of how much time had passed when he finally opened his eyes for longer than two to three seconds at a time. After some bleary adjustment Jason pushed himself up enough to get a better look around the room he came to in. 

“Oh,” a voice called out in surprise, “You’re awake.”

Jason turned to see Tim looking at him wide eyed with a grape juicebox in one hand and a plastic straw in the other. They stared in silence for a moment as Jason shuffled through jagged thoughts and half baked memories from his last few days. 

He, thankfully, recognized his surroundings as the infirmary room of the Batcave. Its blank white walls and sterile smell would have been off putting to most, but Jason reveled in the familiarity of medical equipment. Every time he had ever woken up in this room he had been okay. 

He didn’t want to think about the fear of opening his eyes to see jagged rocks illuminated by green sludge.

The needle in the inner crook of his elbow stung when he moved too quickly. Jason immediately grabbed at it, uncomfortable with the idea of something unknown seeping into his veins. The tape held it in place well enough that he had to pause after a few seconds of scratching.

“It’s just an isotonic IV drip. See?” Tim held up his own arm, “I’ve got one too.” 

Jason bristled and attempted his best scowl but ultimately returned his hand to his lap. Tim still watched him warily, but he had moved on to jab the tin seal with his straw. Before Jason found the energy to ask for clarification on their predicament the younger held out his drink. 

“Do you want a sip?”

Jason’s arm trembled when he reached for the juice box, falling flat against the bed after a few seconds in the air. He didn’t know how long he had slept for, but the weight of his body alerted him of the need for more rest. By the time he felt strong enough to try again Tim approached his bedside with the drink, cautious of Jason’s reaction.

“This is probably going to sound ridiculous, but can you pretend to be asleep for another two minutes? Dick has been hovering over you since we got here and I finally convinced him to shower. He’ll probably never leave the room again if he comes back to you conscious.” 

Jason rolled his eyes. He could picture Dick bouncing around the room on the balls of his feet, staring at Tim and Jason for any sign of movement. Every time a family member was injured badly enough to warrant medical treatment Dick fluttered in the background long after the bandages came off.

“His parents didn’t even make it to the hospital, you know,” Tim said suddenly. 

Jason faltered, taken aback by the sudden information. 

Of course he knew how Dick’s parents died. Jason heard stories about the Graysons’ murder for years before he ever met their son. Bruce filled in a few gaps and corrected false rumors that Jason asked about. He learned about Tony Zucco and the lack of a net, the precursors to Robin. 

But Jason never requested Dick’s side of the story. 

“You didn’t either,” Tim cocked his head to the side. 

Jason realized then just how bloodshot Tim’s eyes appeared and how slowly he moved. He wanted to be angry with the reminder of his own death, but he knew that some form of a painkiller or sedative left Tim more loose lipped than usual. He didn’t appear to be taunting Jason, merely attempting to tell him something about Dick that he couldn’t quite piece together. 

He wanted to press, but rapid footsteps approached from down the hall. Tim waved for him to lay back and settled into his own bed once again. He appeared so peaceful, his head propped up by an extra pillow and the juice box in both hands. The pallor of his skin had warmed once again, but he still had heavy bags beneath his eyes. 

Jason found himself very thankful that Tim didn’t die. 

He settled into his pillow and closed his eyes, doing his best to keep his breathing steady enough. He planned on “waking up” a few minutes after Dick entered, but his heart spiked a beat when he heard the door shut. Dick cursed under his breath and froze in place. 

Jason took a deep breath and blinked. Tim tossed his empty juice box at a light switch beside the door, easily turning off the brightest bulbs overhead. When he opened his mouth to thank Tim he ended up coughing, his throat still so dry that it hurt. Dick rushed to his side and slipped a hand beneath Jason to help him sit up. 

“There you go, I’ve got you,” he murmured. 

Jason sucked greedily at the straw Dick lifted to his lips. He would have finished the entire cup of water if given the chance, but Dick moved it away to prevent him from getting sick. He then carefully worked the IV from Jason’s arm and bandaged the wound left behind, fingers lingering on his elbow. 

“You’ve been in and out for twenty hours or so,” Dick informed him, “Mostly out.” 

Jason huffed a laugh at that, his head pounding at the sharp noise. He took a few more sips of water and Dick offered him a few crackers to settle his stomach. After the fourth he handed the sleeve back, too tired to continue chewing. 

“We’ll get you something easier on your throat soon,” Dick promised.

Jason nodded, trying his best to parse through his hazy memory. He and Tim had been taken hostage for some time, it all blurred together now, and Barbara found them. Jason looked up at Dick and all at once recalled the sight of him beating a man bloody with his fists. He took a few minutes of rest to recuperate from the excitement, happy to let Dick remove Tim’s IV in the meantime. 

Tim climbed out of his bed and tugged the hood of a Gotham Academy sweatshirt over his head. Jason recognized it to be Dick’s, along with the oversized sweatpants he wore and a pair of mismatched wool socks. Tim appeared half his usual size, and without the mask Jason recognized how young he really was. But he was still older than Jason when he died. 

“Jason?” Tim stalled in the doorway, “Thank you. For everything.”

Tim waved over his shoulder as he exited, his soft padded footsteps barely audible as he made his way to the main house. Dick shut the door behind him and took a seat on Tim’s bed. 

“He told me that he wouldn’t have gotten through it without you there.” 

“He would’ve been fine,” Jason rolled his eyes, “Could’ve been a lot worse. Like when…”

Jason’s voice trailed off when he saw the look on Dick’s face. He kept his eyes on the ground, dropping his head into his hands after a moment. Jason watched him deflate and shifted sideways to get a better look. Dick shook his head as he straightened up once more, but he still couldn’t make eye contact. 

“You’re freaking me out, man,” Jason grimaced.

“I’m sorry,” Dick apologized weakly, “I don’t mean to. I just… I’m having trouble figuring out where to start.”

“Let’s start with whatever happened between you and the Joker.”

Dick appeared distraught at the suggestion. He readjusted his position several times but couldn’t stop fidgeting. Eventually he stood up and paced back and forth, Jason’s eyes following him from one side of the room to the other. He must have injured his ankle in the fight as he walked with a slight limp, the uneven pattern of his footsteps grating in the otherwise silent room.

Jason wondered just how much Dick regularly hid from him and found himself aggravated at the thought. Of course, Jason kept most of his feelings to himself so that no one had the opportunity to exploit his vulnerability. But Dick never seemed to have those same worries. Jason considered his eldest brother to be too open, too vulnerable. 

“When you died, I didn’t…” Dick started, swallowing thickly, “I was on Tamaran. By the time I found out your funeral had already passed.” 

Jason remembered going through old tabloids and cutting out each picture of his gravesite. He poured over photographs of Bruce with his head bowed and shoulders slumped, convincing himself that his father had played it up for the cameras. He combed through each page in an attempt to find Dick amongst the crowd, heart falling when he realized that he really hadn’t gone. 

It had always hurt too much to throw back in Dick’s face during an argument. He couldn’t bear to hear the excuses , the justifications for choosing the mission over him. Now that he understood the truth it hurt even more. 

“And Bruce was, well, Bruce ,” Dick gritted his teeth, one hand coming up to rub his jaw, “We didn’t really talk for a while. Not like things between us had been great beforehand, of course, but this…” 

Jason knew how terse Dick and Bruce’s relationship had always been, especially in the last decade. Part of him assumed, however, that their father would have made some sort of effort to comfort Dick in the months following his death. To know that it only drove them further apart aggravated Jason, confused as to how Bruce was willing to lose both of his children at once. 

From the look on Dick’s face he felt the same way. 

“A lot happened while you were gone. And I’ve always thought, you know, it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with after you came back. Especially when everything was still so fragile.”

“Fragile,” Jason repeated.

“Jay, you wanted us dead ,” Dick whispered, “What could I have possibly said to change that?” 

And Dick did have a point. Jason returned to Gotham filled with rage and vengeance, waiting for the opportunity to make it Tim, Dick, and Bruce’s problem. Maybe, in another world, he could have come home straight away. If they found him before Talia did, if he hadn’t been thrown into the Lazarus pit, if he knew that his family cared and didn’t move on from his death before he was even in the ground. 

Jason took a good look at Dick and pictured the Graysons falling to the ground, gone before Dick could get to them. Grief fueled his work as a vigilante, but the dedication to his life before was still evident every time he soared through the air and flashed the same toothy grin they taught him to close out his performances. His parents didn’t even make it to the hospital, you know.

He thought of Dick off-world on a mission, blissfully unaware of the ticking bomb Jason couldn’t manage to disarm. Neither did you.

“I know you like to think that Bruce grabbed the first kid he saw to… to replace you,” Dick shook his head, “He wasn’t well. And the two of us weren’t talking, but I heard the rumors. When Tim showed up and begged me to take Robin up again, to keep Bruce in check, I couldn’t do it.”

Dick walked back to the opposite bed and took a seat. Jason watched him jam his shaking hands beneath his thighs. He looked years older than he had the last time they saw each other, a few stray silver hairs shimmering in the dim fluorescent lights. A wad of gauze stuck out beneath the collar of his shirt, likely an injury from the night he found Tim and Jason. 

Jason restrained himself from leaping forward and digging his fingers into the wound, longing to escape the deep emotional turmoil he witnessed before him. He could handle the gashes and compound fractures as easily as he breathed but the sight of desperately restrained tears in Dick’s eyes wracked him with the same wave of nausea that a normal person might experience upon discovering a body. 

From what Tim told him Dick had likely not slept since he found the two of them nearly a full day prior. And he doubted that Dick slept much, if at all, when he was still hunting down the people that took them. It left him fuzzier around the edges, like he was a hallucination rather than the real thing, and Jason was sure his own pain medication didn’t help. 

“My brother died and he… he didn’t even tell me .” 

Jason flinched at the words. He felt guilty when he saw Dick shrink in on himself further, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud in the first place. 

“I’m sorry, I know how you feel about, um, our relationship before. I wasn’t around much, so it’s not like we were really, uh,” Dick released a shaky breath, “You don’t have to think of me as your brother.” 

Jason remembered standing on a roof, doubled over with laughter the first time Dick referred to them as brothers following his return from the dead. And Dick stood still, completely open and vulnerable and trusting . Jason fired his gun at him without a second thought. Dick dodged it at the last second, and strangely Jason found himself convinced that it meant he didn’t care so much after all. 

He should have known better when Dick sought him out again two days later. 

Shame blossomed in his chest, moving steadily throughout his body. He wanted to tell Dick that he thought of him that way, as brothers. As family . But he found himself incapable of showing what he deemed to be weakness. Or, maybe, because if he started he wouldn’t know how to stop. He’d end up spilling every secret he kept for all these years, culminating in his desire to be loved above all else. 

Dick could give him that. Jason wouldn’t let him. 

“You’re stalling,” he pointed out instead. 

“Yeah,” Dick laughed bitterly, “Yeah, I am.” 

 Instead of continuing he lifted the cup of water to Jason’s lips once again. He appreciated the drink, already more hydrated from the IV but still thirstier than he had been in months. The tightness of his throat likely had more to do with his emotions than his injuries at this point, but he attempted to convince himself otherwise. 

“You and the Joker,” Jason coughed when Dick pulled away. 

Dick shook his hair out and nodded, resuming his pacing for a few laps. He reluctantly returned to the bed and Jason assumed it was more for his benefit as Dick didn’t stop moving when he sat. He appeared to try his best, but between wringing his hands and swinging his feet he couldn’t still himself completely. He chewed his lip so roughly that it split, a few drops of blood staining his chin as he worked up the nerve to continue his story. 

“Early on in Tim’s time as Robin he went missing. To be honest, the whole thing is still a little blurry. But at some point I found his suit,” Dick’s voice wavered, “Bloody and empty . It looked just like yours, the one Bruce still had hanging in the Batcave.”

Jason could have rolled his eyes. Of course Bruce tortured himself with one of his greatest traumas on display for all to see. He could only hope that no outsiders saw it in his years away. It was a sign of failure for both of them, in Jason’s opinion. It should have been destroyed straight away, not put on a pedestal. 

He imagined Bruce having to peel the suit from his body, wondered just how much was left of it after the explosion. 

“The Joker convinced me that he fed Tim to Killer Croc. And I had the suit. I touched it , I smelled the blood. And Barbara, she tried so hard to convince me to stay away from him but when I looked at her I just…” Dick’s expression twisted, “I knew what the Joker was capable of. So I believed him. Why would he lie about killing Tim? He had done it before.

“I went after him in a way I never had before, like I lost the ability to hold back. To control myself. It was the same feeling I had when Bruce and I finally tracked down Zucco.”

Jason had heard of Dick’s confrontation with the man that killed his parents. He always rolled his eyes beneath his mask when Bruce boasted about Dick’s restraint during their confrontation. At the time it seemed like a reminder that Jason was too reckless, too violent, too dissimilar to the first Robin. If Dick could keep himself in control when faced with the man that killed his family then Jason had no excuse for roughing up one of Gotham’s rogues beyond what Bruce deemed acceptable. 

“This time Bruce wasn’t there to stop me,” Dick continued, “So I just kept hitting him, over and over. Didn’t even use a weapon, almost like I needed it to be me hurting him. Me making him feel just a sliver of the pain I hadn’t been able to escape since…” 

Jason distantly wondered if they took Dick’s parents away in an ambulance or a hearse. 

“And then he said your name . Not Robin, not Boy Wonder. Jason ,” Dick closed his eyes briefly, “ I hit Jason a lot harder than that . So I hit him harder.” 

Dick’s voice cracked, gaze downcast so that he didn’t have to see Jason’s reaction. He hoped that his face didn’t betray him, but the thought of the Joker saying his name, his real name, turned his stomach. They had so little for themselves after years as a vigilante, everything inside being given and given and given for the sake of others. They wore masks for a deeper reason than safety. 

“Come on, Dick,” Jason attempted to keep his tone level, “It’s not the first time you put someone in the hospital.” 

Dick laughed, sudden and loud and angry . 

“Jason, I killed him.” 

It sucked the air out of the room. The medical equipment beeped in the background, so familiar that Jason knew exactly how to block it out. The ringing in his own ears heightened in volume, drowning out half of his racing thoughts. 

“I beat him to death with my bare hands. And when I saw him lifeless on the ground, unable to ever hurt anyone ever again, I felt happy ,” Dick confessed.

He tried to piece the story together, combing through distant memories for any sign of truth in Dick’s words. At no point did anyone so much as suggest that Nightwing took down the Joker. He would have remembered it vividly. 

“ Bullshit ,” Jason gritted, “I know for a fact he’s alive and well in Arkham.” 

“Didn’t stick,” Dick shook his head, “They brought him back a few minutes later.”

“ They ?” 

Dick appeared uneasy, like this was the part he had been putting off all this time. Not the anger, the murder, the betrayal of their father’s sacred moral compass. Jason expected guilt, not the same mindless rage that plagued Dick’s expression when Tim had to yank him off of their kidnapper. 

“Bruce,” Dick murmured.

Jason understood all at once. 

He came back to Gotham half expecting Bruce to have avenged him with the same level of violence that the Joker used to kill him. A mixture of factors left him dazed and confused, particularly surrounding his family. As he built an empire of his own in Gotham he spiraled emotionally, stifling what he deemed to be childish feelings as deep down as he could. 

He wouldn’t let them break him down. But it was getting harder and harder to stick to that objective with every moment he spent around Dick. 

“Why would you keep this from me?” Jason did his best to sound angry, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts.

“You never would’ve forgiven him.”

He remembered standing fifty feet away from Dick, angry and hurt and trying to convince himself that he didn’t care about being forgotten. And Dick took the abuse, both verbal and physical, hiding the truth beneath an unwarranted allegiance to Bruce. Had Jason known all that time ago what Dick did, that he reached a breaking point when the Joker said his name, their relationship might have been different. 

He might have believed it when Dick told him he loved him. 

“Plus, I figured you might not be too happy about me not going back to finish the job,” Dick shrugged, “And it’s not like… like I meant to kill him. I could’ve done more to make sure he stayed dead.” 

I regretted it , Dick admitted without speaking the words aloud. 

Jason questioned just how much it counted without intent behind it. He wanted to be hurt that it took Tim’s fake death to spur Dick to action, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything beyond a vague numbness in the center of his chest. 

He found himself hyper-focused on Dick forgoing weapons to beat the Joker to death with just his fists. 

Dick stood, cautiously approaching Jason’s bedside. When he didn’t flinch away Dick ran a hand through his hair. It soothed him, albeit briefly, and he let his eyelids droop every few seconds. He wanted to sleep again already, head swimming with the sudden influx of information. Dick retrieved a new needle and isotonic drip from the table between the beds. A voice in Jason’s head that urged him to flee back to Crime Alley while he could still move. 

But when he looked up to see Dick smiling softly at him he decided to ignore it. 

Dick reattached Jason’s IV and retrieved another dose of pain medication. He reasoned that it wouldn’t hurt him to take advantage of the high-end drugs Bruce stocked the Batcave with and when a rush of calm washed over him he finally released the built up tension in every muscle. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” Dick promised him. 

In a moment of vulnerability he reached for Dick’s hand, squeezing just enough to be noticeable when their palms pressed flat to one another. Dick appeared surprised but didn’t push for once. He seemed content to sit at Jason’s bedside for however long it took him to fall asleep, and likely beyond that. 

Jason had no idea how he would feel when he woke up again. Maybe with a clearer mind he would realize that none of it mattered, that it had never really been about him. Dick regretted killing the person that murdered him. Jason didn’t know if that should hurt him just the same. 

He pictured the Joker dead on the ground, his blood dripping from Dick’s gloves, and smiled. 

They would figure it out come morning, or evening, or whenever he came back to himself. But for now he let Dick hold this small piece of him as he succumbed to sleep.