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Nightwing does not regret killing the Joker. If he wanted to live he shouldn’t ever have touched Robin. There is no government on earth that would convict him of murder either. It’s not just because the Joker is a supervillain or a chaotic evil that has caused destruction and death on a scale only reached by world wars, and natural disasters. No, it’s because Joker killed his Soulmate, and that bond is protected world-wide.
B still thinks he went too far, but as one of the few markless he doesn’t really understand the depth of pain that Dick felt when Jason died. He felt it. Halfway across the Galaxy in the middle of the peace treaties with the Rillithan peoples; he felt his soulmate die. He felt the bond grow cold and watched the mark lose its color and fade to gray. He’s not ashamed to say he passed out from the shock, between the surprise and the phantom pain he was overwhelmed.
If he ever gets a chance to meet whoever came up with soulmates 'sharing their last moments’ he’s gonna punch them in the nuts. He felt the explosion, he felt his lung working overtime trying to get oxygen for the two of them, even though it wouldn't help Jason at all his body immediately tried to compensate for the smoke it could feel filling Jason.
The whole trip back to earth was a blur to Dick, he didn’t eat or sleep unless someone made him, he could barely breathe. Fortunately, none of the Titans left him alone, they made sure that he always had company even when he didn't want anyone around. They are probably the only reason he lived to make it home.
Dick was furious when he found out B had already buried his soulmate before he got home. That was a taboo on so many levels, it didn’t matter that they ‘hadn’t fully bonded yet’ Dick had full legal rights to be there to arrange matters as he saw fit. He was Jason’s soulmate. It didn’t matter that B was his dad, soulbonds trumped any other relationship.
Dick left Gotham filled with rage and anger, and a bruise forming on his cheek from his unsatisfactory ‘discussion’ with Bruce. He went to Blud and worked himself to the bone, exhausting himself so that he didn’t have to think. He may have been kicked out of Gotham but he was still going to make Joker regret killing his Jason.
It happened when Batman was off-world. Joker escaped from Arkham. Dick zeta’d into the cave, his rage simmering, he was going to end this tonight. Alfred was waiting in the cave for him.
“I hope you aren’t here to stop me Alfred.” Dick growled, sounding more like his mentor than ever.
“Hardly, I’m merely here to see if you wanted help my boy. I’m still an excellent shot despite my age.” Alfred offered. “I can’t do anything but help you, when I myself destroyed the man who shot my lovers. Even if it seems I failed to teach our son the sanctity of the bonds.”
Alfred pulled his grandson into a hug, and brushed the tears from his face.
“Suit up my boy. We will end this tonight.”
Dick took a ragged breath and suited up, not in his Nightwing suit, no he dressed in all black suit with just the torn and charred Robin emblem on it. No one else was going to have to suffer the pain of a broken bond because of the clown. Alfred wouldn’t let him drive, and he hated to admit it he was a little too tense to drive anyways. All too soon they were at Amusement Mile, Joker’s favorite hideout. Despite what he said in the cave Dick did not expect Alfred to get out of the car with him, or for him to tuck a pistol into the holster on the small of his back, or grab a shotgun and follow him into the park but he was grateful for the company anyway.
Dick hadn’t brought much with him, just his grappling gun, a few syringes of paralytics, one of fear toxin and about five lbs of explosives. Dick couldn’t remember much from the rest of the night. He only ever remembered flashes. He could remember the feel of the grapple as he fired it straight into the Joker’s stomach, he remembered pushing the toxins and paralytics into the white flesh. He remembered the smell of burning flesh after he detonated the c4 he pushed into the open wounds. He remembered throwing up until he couldn’t stand and then Alfred helping him back home.
He was in a daze for almost a week later, finally able to grieve for his lost love. He was in the library sitting on Jason’s favorite settee tracing his finger over the faded mark on his wrist, when it happened. Color flooded back into the mark, he felt breathless and panicked.
It couldn’t be.
Could it?
“ALFRED.”