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It's not like it was ever actually a secret. He's never tried to hide what he does during his visits to Gotham, never tried to pretend he was going anywhere he wasn't and, really, he'd be almost disappointed if anyone were actually surprised.
(Weren't they all trained by the World's Greatest Detective? is the thought he can't quite manage to get out, can't quite manage to get past his tightening throat, can barely even think to himself.)
Besides Barbara, he's the only one still around who knew Jason before and she's been a little busy the last few weeks.
So freaking sue him if the second night of this particular visit to Gotham finds him slipping away from Steph and Cass on patrol at a whisper of the Red Hood, if he's in Burnley in record time, already on the lookout for any of Jason's usual targets.
He is nothing if not predictable when it comes to what kind of criminal he goes for, after all. And Dick's on a mission tonight, has one very particular goal in mind.
Really, of course Dick's been keeping an eye on Jason. Of course he's been using part of his time in Gotham to track him down, to try to get in a word or two before Jason's running off again, a witty comment about busting up some capo or another falling from his lips as if he were fine, as if everything were just fine.
And Dick can manage almost a full conversation those days, if he can catch up to him fast enough.
...Or he can try to get in a word or two before Jason's running off again, yelling, hurt and spitting mad, after lashing out at whoever's nearest (Dick), and Jason can try to pretend it's fine all he wants. He's just angry and it's just fine, but.
But.
But worst of all are the days when he tries to get in a word or two before Jason's running off again, tears spilling unseen behind his helmet, but obvious in his voice, in how thickly the words roll off his tongue.
Those are the days that always remind him that he's... at a loss, doesn't quite know what he's supposed to be doing.
But that's no reason to stop now. It's no reason not to do everything he can to reach out to Jason. Dick Grayson didn't get this far in life by giving up, after all.
Whether he's gotta talk him into it or kick him till he listens, he can't. Dick just can't let Jason go on as he has been, not without at least some kind of support.
(And if he's kind of hoping, just a little, to manage to convince Jason to come back with him to Blüdhaven for a little while, to get him away from a city full of memories that can't possibly be helping him recover, can't be doing anything but more harm, well... Who can blame him?)
A lot... No. Too much happened has happened recently. And what he did, what he helped Scarecrow do... The very thought of it is. Difficult. To the say the least. Unforgivable.
Jason hurt or helped hurt so many people in Gotham, brought the city to its knees for one night. He hurt Tim, hurt Barbara and Jim Gordon and...
There's that lump in his throat again, at the thought of Bruce and Alfred.
God, he still hopes it isn't what it looks like.
But this is one time where doing something about that, about Jason, won't help anyone.
He already said his piece anyway, already yelled and fought the first time he saw Jason after that, just hours after finding out he was alive. He cornered him near the clock tower, confronted him.
And it was nasty and bloody, on both sides, and it didn't help. It didn't make Dick feel any better and it certainly didn't help anyone else.
It doesn't matter anyway. He knows himself enough to know he wouldn't be able to just lock him away with Scarecrow, not after everything that happened to him, not after everything the Joker did to him. And not after he saved Bruce and Tim and Gordon in the end.
So he has to content himself with this for now (for a long while), with dropping down into a likely alleyway in Burnley, following the trail of terrified, fleeing gangsters.
It doesn't take long to find what he's looking for.
He only has to turn around, in the direction of a strangled groan, to spot the Red Hood standing over some two-bit mook, one booted foot pressing down on the man's sternum and a gun leveled at his head.
Jackpot.
"Hood!" he says, loud and cheerful, cutting off whatever threats or demands Jason was about to spit at the guy.
Jason's head snaps up at his voice, his face hidden by that red helmet and the red jacket hood thrown over it. Like every single time he's gone looking for him, whether there's been a need to protect their identities or not.
Dick still hasn't seen Jason's face, not since before the Joker nabbed him, and, after talking to Barb, he's pretty damn sure the reason for that starts and ends with a J where there shouldn't be one.
"Nightwing," Jason answers behind that helmet, tone lighter than the last couple times. Good sign. "Liiiittle busy here, if you haven't noticed."
Dick shakes his head, gestures at the guy on the ground, who's looking just a tad green at the sight of him. Oops. That can't be fun for him. "Come on, look at him. He's had enough."
Jason only stares at him (he thinks, for all he knows, his eyes could be closed) for several uncomfortable moments, during which Dick's not entirely sure, but he thinks the mook on the ground has just about decided to stop breathing just to escape the Red Hood and Nightwing.
(He's kidding. Honest.)
"You think so?" Jason grinds his foot on the man's chest, his grip on the gun tightening.
Dick tenses, reaches for his one of his escrima sticks and--
Jason draws his left leg back, shrugs, all careful, casual cheer. "Well, looks like it's your lucky day, scumbag. Big bad Nightwing here doesn't like it when I'm too mean. And seein' as you don't know anything..." Jason kicks, driving his foot into the man's ribs. "Go on. Get the hell outta here."
Dick waits until the man's staggered to his feet and stumbled his way out of the alley, breathing rapidly the whole time, to speak again.
"Hood."
"What? He deserved it!"
"Hood."
Jason huffs out a breath, holstering his gun. "Whattaya want already, Dickiebird? I was busy."
He figures he's showing his trust or something when he doesn't look behind him to make sure no one heard that nickname.
"I was looking for you," he says, foregoing the comment about Jason's mood that's on the tip of his tongue. If he's actually staying, if Jason isn't trying to run away already...
He's not gonna mess this up.
"I can see that." Jason spreads his arms. "And you found me. Whattaya want?"
I wanted to see how you were doing is on the tip of his tongue, but he pushes it back behind his teeth.
So not the thing to say.
"What?" he says instead, shrugging, as casual as he can. "I can't drop in on you? See what mob family's pissed you off this week? I'm hurt."
Jason scoffs and, though he still can't see his face, this time Dick knows Jason is rolling his eyes at him. "They've all pissed me off, Dickface. Why do you think I'm doing this?"
"You're following a pattern of obsessive behavior instilled in you at an early age?"
The only response he gets is a loud huff and a shake of Jason's head, along with what he imagines must be a pretty impressive glare behind that helmet.
"Hey, come on. It's not just you! And you gotta admit. You totally thought it was funny."
Jason huffs again, the sound softer this time, almost... amused. And that's one sound Dick actually recognizes, coming from Jason.
Yeah. He totally thought it was funny.
"You wish, Boy Wonder." There's no heat in his tone, less of the tension that had been in it only a moment ago.
Then he doesn't say anymore, only crosses his arms, and Dick takes it as an invitation (albeit grudging) to keep talking.
"So, hey," he begins, letting himself tone down the levity in his voice, just a little. "I know we haven't really had the chance to talk since..." He waves an arm in a vague gesture, even if it's probably useless to try to summarize the sheer magnitude of everything that's happened recently like that. Seeing Jason's shoulders tense, he rushes to add, "Not that you probably even wanted to talk to most of us right now. I get it."
And that... just has Jason's shoulders rising even more. Probably not the smartest thing to say.
Different tactic then.
"Look," he tries again, when Jason still doesn't say anything. "Here."
Dick reaches into one of the hidden pockets at his side, taking a step forward, close enough to actually reach Jason now. He reaches out, grabs for Jason's hand, and Jason lets him, flinches, just slightly, but lets him.
"Here," Dick says, before Jason has a chance to do or say anything else, already pulling his hand back. "My number. I figured you don't have my new one." He smiles, a little wry. "You probably don't have my old one anymore either. And I doubt you've had a lot of time to talk to anyone about anything recently."
"Well," Jason says at length, glancing at the note Dick left in his palm. His voice is trying to be flippant, unconcerned, but Dick can still hear the shaky edge to it. "Isn't this nostalgic? I'm not some kid in your hand-me-downs anymore, you know?"
"You never did call before." Dick shrugs, makes sure to smile. He's still not sure how Jason's going to take this, is taking this, but he can't exactly leave things alone here either. He wants to do this. "But you can still call me whenever you want, Jay. You always could."
He's taking a gamble with the nickname, probably, with how long it's been, with how much has happened. He's absolutely sure Jason has to be glaring or rolling his eyes there, but. He doesn't call him on it and Dick'll take that as a win.
Jason's silent for a moment, utterly still. "Cute, but I ain't looking for any touching heart to hearts here."
"I'm not asking you for any," Dick says, tone lighter, because it's not really a refusal. "You don't have to talk to me about anything you don't wanna. You can just call to complain that Black Mask's still got goons hanging around. You don't even have to call me if you don't feel like it. I'm not gonna stalk you till you call me or anything."
"Like you're totally not stalking me now," Jason points out drily. But he's standing easier now, the tension mostly drained out of his shoulders, leaning back against the alley wall behind him.
Dick lets himself full out grin, lets his own stance ease into something much more casual. "Like I'm totally not stalking you now," he agrees easily. "Because I'd never do that. I'm just giving you a way to contact me. Besides, Barbara's out of town right now, so it's not like you can just go to her if you suddenly wanna talk to me."
Dick very carefully doesn't mention any of the others, especially Tim. Things are still... difficult there.
Jason, for his part, just huffs again, pushing off the wall. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, Dickie. Like I'd have a reason to wanna talk to you outta nowhere." His tone is gruff, but not very convincing, as far as Dick's concerned.
Jason must realize the same thing he has, because it's only another moment before he's shaking his head, and in a softer tone, saying, "Whatever. I get it, Dickface. I'm not gonna... throw it away or anything. Scout's honor. I'll even think about it."
And that's honestly much better than he was expecting, so Dick's not about to push his luck with anything else. Not tonight anyway.
"Thanks. Gotta go," Jason adds gruffly, before Dick can get a word in. "Later."
Just as quickly as he spoke, Jason's grappling away, leaving Dick staring after him, the whoosh of the line ringing in his ears.
"See ya later, Little Wing."