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Jason looked up with a start. He was reviewing some case files on the couch of his current safe house. There was the telltale clicking sound of someone trying to open the window, though his silent perimeter alarm hadn’t gone off, which meant it was likely an authorized visitor.
It was hard to make out through the dark window, but Jason was pretty sure that was Dick scrabbling at the first lock. He could always get up and let Dick in…but, nah…if the asshole wanted to drop by unannounced he could deal with getting himself in.
10 seconds later, the clicking noises hadn’t changed. 20 seconds, 30…Jason knew his security system wasn’t the easiest to bypass, but it wasn’t the hardest either. He was decidedly not getting worried.
He huffed and made his way over to the window.
Jason made quick work of entering his codes and opening all three window locks, popping the window open and putting on his best unamused glare. The first red flag was that this was Dick, not Nightwing, trying (and failing) to break into his safehouse. Jason felt a frisson of unease.
“Dickface,” Jason greeted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he muttered, “but you know that if it’s not Bat business you can use the front door, right?”
The second red flag was the eternity it took for Dick to drop his hands from the window and lift his head up to meet Jason’s gaze. Though ‘meet’ was a generous word for it; Dick’s eyes were glassy and unfocused.
“Jay?” Dick mumbled, clearly confused. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“This is my safehouse, dumbass.” Shit.
Dick blinked. “Yeah, but…” he furrowed his brow. “Didn’ think you’d be here…” He continued blinking at Jason, but made no further moves to enter the apartment.
Jason’s mind was running through scenarios. Drunk? High? Drugged? Some sort of mental breakdown? And why had the golden boy come here? He sighed. “Are you just going to sit there?” he reached down and grabbed both of Dick’s arms. “Come on, Dickhead, might as well come in.”
Jason had to bodily lift Dick’s limp form from the ground, though once Dick had his feet under him, he was able to take some of his weight and climb through the window, albeit with none of his usual grace. As soon as Jason let go to close the window and reset his security systems, Dick sank unceremoniously toward the floor.
Jason sighed again. At least he hadn’t collapsed.
The glassy eyes, the slow breathing, the delayed reactions – Jason was pushing down memories of his mom turning to him from the couch, saying ‘heyyy, Baby,’ just a little too slowly. His mom, standing in front of the stove, staring at a pot of boiling water while the box of pasta sat forgotten off to the side. He was considering calling Tim, Alfred, Babs – anyone, really – to make this someone else’s problem, but decided he would collect some more information first.
“Sure, make yourself comfortable,” Jason grumbled. He slipped an arm under Dick’s and levered him back up to standing.
Dick let himself be led over to the couch. He slumped onto the cushions where Jason deposited him and made no attempt to adjust. Sitting in the light of the living room, Dick’s condition became all the more apparent. His jaw was sporting a nasty bruise and starting to swell. His upper arms had dark bruising where it looked like someone had grabbed him. He had bits of dried blood along his hairline and on the collar of his shirt. He looked like he was dressed for a night out, but his fitted t-shirt and black jeans were wrinkled and torn. And, wow, the guy reeked.
Jason positioned himself next to Dick on the couch. On impulse, he reached over to lift up the bottom of Dick’s shirt, letting out a low whistle when he caught sight of the mottled bruising in various stages of reds, purples and yellows. Dick recoiled – slowly – and weakly batted at Jason’s hand.
“What the hell happened to you?” Jason demanded.
Dick met Jason’s eyes and his gaze seemed to sharpen slightly before his expression crumpled. “M’sorry. I didn’ think you’d be here.”
“So you said.” Despite having been ready to pass Dick off to be someone else’s responsibility moments earlier, Jason felt a spike of anger. “So sorry I’m not one of your precious baby birds,” he spit out. “But you came here. I’m what you’ve got.”
Dick blinked, moment of clarity gone. “Wha-?” he slurred. “No...” Dick shook his head, scrunched up his forehead like he was trying to remember something. “No. Didn’ wanna…see you high. Bad memories,” he mumbled.
Oh. Classic Dick. The idiot would rather climb into an empty safe house than distress anyone. Jason took a deep breath, reined in his anger. “Don’t worry about that. Tell me what happened.”
After a moment with no response, Jason tried again. “Dickface, what are you on?”
“On?” Dick took just a moment too long to answer.
Jason groaned. “Yes, on. You said you’re high.”
Another pause. “High, low, I dunno.” Dick smiled then, slow and lazy. “Ha. I’m a poet an’ I didn’ even know it.”
Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. Took another deep breath. “Come on, Dick, I need you to focus. Did you take something?”
Dick, to his credit, looked like he was trying to do what Jason asked. He furrowed his brow again and mouthed ‘take.’
“What drug are you on?” Jason tried again, carefully enunciating each word.
“I dunno. I dunno what they gave me.” A flicker of panic. “I dunno, Jay. My heart…was racing…but I’m sssluggish…” Dick’s breathing had started to pick up, but now it slowed back to its original pace. He slumped back into the pillows and stared listlessly off towards the kitchen.
Okay, so this was looking less like a ‘get high and pick a fight’ situation and more like a ‘kidnapped and drugged’ situation. Who was Jason kidding; of course it was more likely for Dick to show up after a kidnapping and torture session than a night on the town.
“Okay,” Jason pitched his voice low. “We’ll do a blood test, ‘kay? Any other injuries I should know about?”
Dick turned his head back towards Jason. “My ribs?” he said slowly. “My right ankle, I think. I – I can’t tell. Everything feels…weird.” His eyes widened and some of the panic from earlier returned. “Jay,” he breathed.
Jason stood abruptly. Shit. He was hit by a sudden, intense memory of his mom sitting on the dingy couch in their dingy apartment, saying ‘Jay’ in exactly the same intonation. She had been a bit less panicked, a bit more apathetic, but Jason couldn’t shake the awful feeling that he was reliving something he had promised himself never to relive.
If he were being completely honest with himself, his rattled feeling probably also had something to do with the unflappable Dick Grayson looking at him so helplessly.
“Okay, Dickiebird.” Somehow, Jason managed to keep his voice steady. “I’m just going to grab the first aid kit. We’ll run your blood and check you for any injuries.”
Jason stepped away from the couch and allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and wallow in the unfairness of the whole situation. Why the fuck did a drugged-to-the-gills Dick Grayson have to end up here of all places? Literally anyone else in the family would have been better equipped to handle this. If growing up on the streets of Gotham had taught him anything, though, it was that there was no point wondering why shitty things happened. If playing nursemaid for his annoying ass pseudo-brother was what the cards had in store for him today, then the only thing to do was figure out his next step.
Jason took a few deep, meditative breaths before deciding he’d taken enough of a break. First things first: the first aid kit. Depending on the equipment available and what he found in Dick’s blood, he might have to call Tim for help interpreting the results. If any injuries proved complicated, he would call Alfred for a consultation.
Shit, did anyone know Dick wasn’t missing anymore?
For that matter, did anyone know he had been missing to begin with?
Okay, change of plans. First aid kit, then call Babs. She would know the general status of things and could update the others, if need be.
Thankfully, this safehouse had a fairly well-stocked first aid kit that he kept under the sink. Jesus, what was Dick thinking, coming here to a potentially empty safehouse with unknown medical supplies? He wasn’t thinking clearly, a voice in the back of Jason’s head supplied. He knew this was your safehouse, another voice countered. And he knew enough to hope you weren’t here. Jason felt a pit form in his stomach that he elected to ignore.
First aid kit located, Jason made his way back to the couch and knelt in front of Dick, who was still in the same slumped position and staring at nothing. “Arm,” Jason demanded, holding out a hand.
Dick held out an arm for Jason, who froze when he got a glimpse of Dick’s inner arm. It was covered in track marks. Dick seemed to sense Jason’s hesitation and looked down at his arm. He grimaced. “Shit. Sorry,” he murmured.
“Shut up,” Jason admonished. “I’m just going to, uh, take it from your hand, okay?” Jason got to work on Dick’s slightly shaking hand. Not shaking, Jason realized, eyeing the tremors in Dick’s shoulders. Shivering.
He grabbed a blanket from the arm of the couch and tossed it around Dick’s shoulders. “Here,” he offered gruffly. “Hold still so I can get a good sample.”
Dick smiled a little, but didn’t make any effort to adjust the blanket.
Jason finished drawing the blood, capped the vial, and plugged it into the mini Wayne Tech blood analyzer (Batalyzer, Dick’s voice in his mind supplied).
“‘Kay, injury check,” was all the warning he gave before beginning to feel around Dick’s head for cuts and bumps.
Dick allowed Jason to rotate his shoulders and palpate his ribs without so much as a protest. Jason tried not to think about how pliant Dick was. It was creeping him the fuck out. At least Dick seemed to be tracking Jason’s movements a bit better.
Aside from a potentially sprained ankle that seemed relatively fresh, Jason’s examination didn’t uncover anything beyond extensive bruising. Jason plopped a couch pillow down on the coffee table and lifted Dick’s leg up to rest on it. “Sit tight. I’m going to make a few phone calls and get you some ice while we’re waiting for the blood results.”
Dick nodded his understanding. Well, that was something. Even if the nod was more of a head wobble.
Jason stepped into the kitchen for the second time that night and let out a shaky breath. He felt wired, antsy. He was on the verge of slipping into thoughts he didn’t want to be having. Later, he told himself firmly. Focus on now. Focus on Dickhead. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he pulled up Babs’s contact and hit call.
“Jason,” Babs answered the phone smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Dick’s here,” was all Jason said.
“Oookay,” Barbara responded after a beat. Her voice had a bit of an edge to it. “If you’re just calling to get me to talk him into leaving, I don’t have that kind of sway over him and I have better things to be doing.”
“No,” Jason cut in sharply. He pinched the top of his nose and drew a breath. “I take it you didn’t know he was taken.”
A pause, then, quietly, “Assuming you’re not fucking with me, no, I didn’t. Jason, what’s going on?”
“Dick crawled into my safe house about 20 minutes ago, high out of his mind and covered in bruises. He was drugged, maybe tortured, I don’t know. Probably two, three days ago by the looks of him. I don’t have the full story. He’s barely coherent.”
“Shit,” Babs breathed. “Dick or Nightwing?”
“Dick,” Jason replied. He could make out a keyboard clacking in the background.
When Babs spoke next her tone was all business. “I’m sending Tim to you with a car. He’s a little tied up right now, so he’ll be there in 20.”
Jason felt some of the tension bleed out of him.
“Jason?” Babs asked. “You going to be okay till then?”
“I can handle it,” Jason answered with more than a touch of annoyance.
Babs sighed. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. I just know this must be – you know what? Never mind.”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“Alright, well, I’ve got things to get back to,” Babs said, “but send me his bloodwork, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jason replied. “Wait! This wasn’t – I mean, I didn’t call to have you take him off my hands.” Suddenly, it was crucial that Barbara understand. “I thought you knew he was missing.”
Another short pause. “Thanks, Jason. I don’t – I’ll have to look into how I missed that. And for the record, I’m sending Tim to you because Dick can get better care in the Cave and – don’t bite my head off – you sound a little…distressed. It’s not that I don’t trust you or don’t think you can handle it.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to pause. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Babs replied. “Send me Dick’s bloodwork. Call if anything changes.” She disconnected.
Jason planted his hands firmly on the kitchen counter and pressed, hoping to relieve some tension and get his head back in the game. Right, ice pack. Probably some water, too. He grabbed his supplies and headed back into the living room, where he was relieved to see that Dick had at least managed to adjust the blanket around his shoulders, even if he was still completely lax with his head lolling on the back of the couch. He seemed to be a bit more alert, rolling his head toward Jason as he approached. Though as Jason got closer, he could see that Dick’s whole body was now shivering violently.
“Brought you some ice.” Jason held up the ice pack in his hand. “I think it’s still worth it to try and stop some of the swelling, but if you get too cold just tell me.”
Dick smiled a little. “Thanks, Jay.” He was definitely slurring his words a bit less. Good.
“Here, I got you some water, too.” Jason tossed the water bottle so it landed next to Dick on the couch. “I’ll grab some more blankets. Need anything else?”
Dick just shook his head.
Ice pack and extra blankets in place, Jason glanced around the room, unsure of what to do next. He settled himself on the couch, leaving a healthy gap between himself and Dick.
The Batalyzer beeped and Jason rattled off a quick message to Babs, figuring he could let her interpret the results.
“So, what,” Jason started, “you were out partying and someone got the drop on Richie Grayson?”
Dick lifted his eyes to Jason, still a bit more slowly than normal. He furrowed his brow and glanced off to the side. “I don’t - I don’t remember, exactly, but…yeah, basically. I went to meet some friends from work on…Thursday. Yeah, Thursday.”
Today was Saturday, so that tracked with Jason’s assessment of Dick’s bruises. When Dick didn’t elaborate, Jason raised an eyebrow. “And…?”
“And…uh…I think I got there early. At least, I don’t remember seeing any of my friends. Someone must’ve…slipped something in my drink. I don’t know how I…” Dick’s breathing was picking up. He shot a glance at Jason, clear distress evident in his face.
“You don’t have to talk about it right now.”
“No, I – it’s –” Dick forged on anyway. He huffed out a breath. “I don’t like not remembering. I don’t know who they were. I don’t know what they wanted. I remember…a gray room. Concrete floor. Someone…male, tall…injecting me with something. I think…I think they were testing it on me…?” he trailed off.
Jason got the feeling there were more things Dick wasn’t sharing, but he was less interested in the details for the moment. Something was nagging at him. “I’m assuming they didn’t just let you go. You remember how you got out?”
“There was a window,” Dick said slowly. The blankets seemed to have held the shivering at bay temporarily, but now he was beginning to shake again, his teeth starting to chatter. “I…it w-was high. And s-small. I don’t think they thought…”
Yeah, Jason could see how someone would underestimate Dick’s ability to wriggle through unlikely places. Especially a drugged Richie Grayson.
“And then, what? You thought you’d break into an empty safe house and ride out the comedown on your own? Spare us all the trouble of seeing you at anything less than 100%?” The last words were spit out perhaps a bit more harshly than was warranted. Jason couldn’t help the surge of anger at the thought of stupid, self-sacrificing Dick Grayson hiding himself away in this stupid, empty apartment.
Even in his drugged state, Dick seemed to sense the edge in Jason’s tone. He made eye contact once more. “Y-yes?” Dick looked confused for a moment and then something clicked and his gaze softened. “N-n-no, Jay. I – phone. When I r-realized where I was, I l-looked for the c-c-closest place to c-c-contact…” he broke off as especially violent shivers wracked his lithe frame.
Shit. Mollified that Dick didn’t have some sort of death wish, Jason felt abruptly exhausted. He was jumping to all the wrong conclusions tonight, wasn’t he? “Sorry,” he said. “That’s not – here, drink some more water.” He opened the water bottle and held it out for Dick, who took it with a shaky hand and managed a few sips. “Let’s see if we can get you warm, okay?”
Dick offered a small, tired smile and nodded. He looked pale, Jason noticed, even paler than when he’d first arrived. “J-Jay?” he grit out through shivers. “I think I’m g-gonna be sick.”
Jason reacted fast, snagging the empty trash can out of the bathroom and placing it in Dick’s hands. He was all too familiar with reacting on short notice to keep puke off the floor. Jesus, what a thing to be familiar with, Jason thought ruefully. He pulled the ice pack off Dick’s ankle, placed his foot back on the ground, and put a hand behind Dick’s back to pull him up into a sitting position.
Not a moment too soon. Dick retched over the trash can. Jason had a weird urge to rub Dick’s back. He decided to go find more blankets and water instead.
When Jason returned with a heating pad and two more bottles of water, Dick was just sitting up with a moan. “Here, fluids,” Jason said, opening the half empty bottle still on the couch. He plugged in the heating pad and put it behind Dick, who was bringing the water bottle to his mouth with his shaking hands. “I got it.” Jason gently took the bottle from Dick’s hands and helped him take a few sips.
“Urghhh,” Dick moaned as he let his head fall back against the couch. “F-fuck this s-s-sucks.”
“Eh, quit being so dramatic, Dickface.”
Dick raised a lazy middle finger.
Jason smirked, surprised at the intensity of the relief he felt at seeing Dick act more like himself. “That’s more like it,” he muttered under his breath. He grabbed the trash can to switch out the bag and was interrupted by his phone ringing. Babs.
Jason answered the call and Babs launched right in. “The bloodwork is…odd, to say the least, but it doesn’t look like he has anything in his system at dangerous levels. Best bet is probably just to monitor him and take another sample in another hour or so, make sure everything’s going down.”
“Hello to you too,” Jason grumbled.
“Sorry,” Babs said, and she at least had the decency to sound a bit chagrined. “How’s he doing?”
“Oh, you know, puking his guts out and freezing his ass off. He’s mostly coherent, though.”
Babs made a sympathetic noise. “Make sure he gets plenty of fluids. If his stomach settles, see if you can get some food in him, too. Who knows the last time he ate anything.”
Jason ran through a quick mental scan of the food stocked in the safe house - protein bars, probably a few microwaveable meals and cans of salty soup. Yeah, no. He’d prefer not to see any of those come back up. “Not my first rodeo,” Jason replied tetchily.
“Of course not,” Babs said, a touch more gently. “Just covering all my bases. This doesn’t look anything like an opiate to me, or like anything I’m familiar with, honestly. There may be some unexpected symptoms.”
Jason just hummed in response.
A pause. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, you know, having a blast.”
“Right,” Babs said. “Sorry I asked. Tim should be there in about 10. You need anything in the meantime?”
“Nah, we’re good here.”
“Okay. Call if anything comes up. And Jason?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks for taking care of him.”
Jason was spared from answering by a distinctive “hnggh” sound coming from the living room. “Shit. I gotta run.”
Discarding his phone, Jason snatched a new plastic bag and shoved it into the trash can. He practically sprinted back into the living room and shoved the can under Dick’s face just in time for Dick to hunch over and start heaving. He had thrown off all the blankets and heating pad, Jason noticed, and there was sweat beading along his hairline.
Jason winced sympathetically when the retching didn’t let up. Dick continued dry heaving well after the water and whatever else he had left in his stomach had come up, finally emerging minutes later, panting and dripping in sweat. Dick’s head fell back against the couch once more, and Jason grabbed the trash can before Dick’s lax grip could let it slip to the floor.
Dick shifted on the couch like he was trying to get comfortable, grimacing slightly when he put pressure on his swollen ankle. He shifted again, turning his head from one side to the other.
“Uh, you okay, man?” Jason felt like an idiot, still standing there with the trash can in his hand.
Dick looked up and blinked blearily at Jason. He looked feverish – flushed cheeks, clammy skin, glazed eyes and all. “Can’t get comfortable,” he mumbled. He braced one arm on the arm of the couch and leaned forward like he was about to stand up.
“Yeah, no,” Jason broke in. “The hell do you think you’re doing?” He put one hand on Dick’s shoulder and pushed him back to the couch.
Dick went right back to squirming. “I have to get up. I have to move. Fuuuck, Jason, I have to move or I’m going to go crazy.” He attempted to stand again and Jason stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder once more.
“Not a good idea, Dickface. Or have you forgotten about your sprained ankle?”
Dick’s glare was truly impressive. “I’ll walk on my hands, then.”
Dick made to stand up once more and Jason sighed. With Dick as out of sorts as he was, it wouldn’t take much to stand here and keep pushing Dick down, but Jason had a suspicion that that would be all he would be doing until Tim arrived. “Fucking stubborn bastard,” Jason muttered. He slipped an arm under Dick’s to help him up.
Dick leaned heavily on Jason as he stood, then pushed himself away, teetered for a moment, and hobbled in the general direction of the kitchen.
Jason watched, somewhat amused, as Dick leaned against the counter, only to immediately push himself off and begin hobbling over to the little kitchen table, shaking his arms out like he was loosening up before exercising. He perched on the table, rolled his head and shoulders, then pushed off and began hobbling again. Jason watched a few rounds of this before deciding he’d had enough.
He prepared the trash can for when Dick inevitably got sick again and picked up one of the remaining bottles of water. He slammed it down on the counter where Dick was currently perched. “Drink,” he commanded. “Let’s at least try to get some fluids in you before they can get you on an IV.”
Dick looked confused. “They?” he mumbled.
“They? The Bats? Your family?” Jason supplied. “Tim’s on his way to take you back to the Cave. Didn’t I say?”
Dick shook his head, but didn’t otherwise react. He chugged about half the water bottle in one go before Jason put a hand over Dick’s and pulled it down.
“Woah, Jesus, trying not to puke, remember?”
“Sorry. Thirsty,” Dick muttered. He lowered the water bottle to the counter and glanced at his hand, which was once again trembling slightly. He looked up at Jason, slightly wide-eyed. “Uh, think it’s the chills again,” he said. “Could you, uh–.” Dick gestured with his head toward the couch.
“Yeah, ‘course. Come on.” Jason slipped his arm under Dick’s once more and helped him limp back toward the living room.
By the time they got back to the couch, Dick was barely holding his weight. His whole body was shivering and his teeth were chattering. Jason helped him sit and get situated with the blankets around him once more when a knock sounded at the door.
After a quick glance at his security feed – you could never be too careful in Gotham, was Jason’s motto – Jason opened the door to reveal Tim standing with his hands in his pockets and a grim expression.
“Jason,” he nodded.
Jason swallowed any snarky comments and stepped aside.
“Timmy,” Dick called with a weak smile from his blanket pile on the couch. “G-glad you could j-join the party.”
Jason rolled his eyes. He clocked Tim’s wide eyes as he took in Dick’s state, before he schooled his expression back to neutral.
“Dick, hey,” Tim said, and Jason was impressed by the calm authority he conveyed. “Let’s get you back to the Cave and taken care of, okay?”
“S-s-sure th-thing, boss,” Dick said.
Jason rolled his eyes again. He slipped into the kitchen and came back with a handful of plastic bags. “Here,” he held them out to Tim. “In case he pukes on the way back. You should take some water bottles and some of the blankets, too.”
Tim looked up in mild surprise. “Thanks,” he said, taking the bags. And then to Dick, “can you walk?”
“Y-yeah, of course,” Dick replied, offering Tim a lazy grin.
Jason was going to get a headache from rolling his eyes so much in short succession. “He has a sprained ankle and zero coordination right now,” he said to Tim. “I’ll help you guys down to the car.”
Another look of surprise flashed across Tim’s face before he hid it and nodded.
With Tim and Jason each on one side of Dick, they made it down the four flights of stairs and out to Tim’s car, stopping occasionally to let Dick rest or when a particularly violent bout of shivering overtook him. Dick attempted to make small talk through his chattering teeth on the way down, but one gentle “shut up” from Jason was enough to get him to stop.
Dick was completely spent by the time they got to the car, but Jason was pretty sure he wasn’t imagining the shoulder squeeze and pained yet sincere smile Dick gave him before settling into the passenger seat.
After Tim drove off, Jason trudged back up the stairs.
He let himself into the safe house and sank down against the wall, letting the weight of the past few hours and his jumbled thoughts crash down around him. He had a familiar aching, hollowed out feeling that he associated with nightmares, sleepless nights, and angry days.
There was something unfamiliar there, too. A fondness, maybe, and a sort of unexpected satisfaction that he usually attributed to a successful patrol. Hm, something to unpack there, maybe. Another time. For now? Sleep.