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As much as Jason hated Batman, he could admit that staring dramatically out over Gotham City was a pretty good gig.
Nightwing was stealthy, but the sound of his heeled boots hitting the ground would always give him away. Drake too, with his Freddie Mercury heels. Jason didn’t turn around, proud of how steady his voice was as he said, “What do you want, Dickwing?”
“I can’t check in on my little brother every once in a while?”
“Not dressed like that you can’t,” He shot back. “Did Batman send you?”
Dick paused. “Maybe he did. So what?”
“Too lazy to come out here and chew me out himself, huh? What is it this time? My streets aren’t clean enough for him? I’m not controlling the criminal activities to his standards of perfection?” Jason spat.
Dick walked up to join him at the roof’s edge. “Nah. I came to ask a favor.”
“Right,” Jason gave a hollow laugh. “Because we’re so friendly. Maybe next week we can all get together for a bowling night.”
“The Red Hood I know would never say no to a chance to cream his rivals in the bowling alley,” Dick punched him in the shoulder.
It shouldn’t have hurt, but unfortunately, there was a gaping hole in his shoulder from a lucky shot by one of Two Face’s goons. Jason sucked in a gasp, then tried to play it off as a sneeze. He was pretty sure several of his stitches had been popped.
“Little wing?” Dick looked very concerned all of a sudden.
“Don’t.”
Ever so gently, Dick brushed a gloved hand across Jason’s shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”
Jason grit his teeth at the waves of pain shooting through him. “What’s the matter? Never seen blood before?”
Dick ignored him, as older brothers are wont to do. “Can I take a look?”
“Hell no.” Jason shifted away, placing a protective hand over the wound. “Just tell me what you came for. What does Batsy want?”
“...He’s doing a Penguin infiltration tomorrow night,” Dick said at last. “He doesn’t want the Robins involved and he knows you’re trustworthy.”
“Wow.” Jason scoffed. “Send the dead guy to the risky mission, I see how it is.”
“Jay—”
“Send me the deets. I’ll be there,” Jason cut him off, refusing to meet his eyes. “As long as I get paid.”
“Of course.” Dick said stiffly. When neither of them said anything, he turned to leave.
“Oh, and Nightwing?”
“Yeah?”
“You might wanna ditch the dumb lookin boots. Bad for a stealth mission.”
Dick gave a mock offended gasp. “These are custom Balenciaga!”
Jason turned, wincing beneath the helmet when it jostled his shoulder. “For real?”
“Yes. What of it?”
Jason snorted. “I knew you were a rich kid, but damn, Dickface. You’ve fallen to new lows.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dick muttered, suppressing a smile. “See you tomorrow, asshole,”
“You certainly will.”
…..
Jason went home soon afterwards; fighting with popped stitches was not a very nice feeling.
He stitched himself up with a curved needle, rounded pliers, and steady hands. A few tablespoons of lost blood was nothing compared to the sheer amount pumping through his veins.
As useful as his size was, sometimes it made Jason feel like Frankenstein’s Monster. An abomination brought to life straight from children’s nightmares. After death, Jason had woken up afraid and in a new body. He wondered still if he’d ever be used to it.
It didn’t help that he was reading Frankenstein as he laid on his musty leather couch, trying not to fall asleep before he finished the chapter. A tall glass of apple juice with a swirly straw rested beside him, because dammit he was going to regain his blood sugar in style.
The television was playing reruns of a soap opera Jason had rewatched dozens of times. Without some sort of background noise, the apartment flet much too quiet. Much too empty.
Jason had always been more introverted. While Dick was busy playing the outgoing golden child, much of Jason’s childhood had been spent in libraries and silence. First public ones, then Bruce’s. He truly enjoyed being alone.
Just maybe not permanently.
Before his encounter with Nightwing earlier that evening, the last person to speak to Jason was the grocery store cashier two weeks ago. Absolutely pathetic.
Jason curled up around his book with his glass of apple juice and tried not to think about the ever-present loneliness stirring in his gut.
….
They had the initial briefing over comms as Jason sped from Crime Alley all the way to the East-side on his bike. Jason refused to go back to the cave, so that was the compromise they’d decided on.
Batman growled out the instructions in his usual businesslike manner. “As you know, there is a gala at the Iceberg Lounge tonight. Penguin plans to show off his newest acquisition, one of the world's largest diamonds, dubbed the ‘ice diamond’. Tonight, we simply need to get in, steal it, and get out.”
Red Hood scowled. “You called me all the way out here to nick a fancy rock?”
“It was stolen from the King of Saudi Arabia. With his stupid goddamn public showing, Oswald Cobblepot might end up starting a war.” Nightwing explained. “It’s important for the safety of Gotham that we return the diamond as soon as possible.”
“Huh. Alright, then.” Even Jason, morally grey edgelord that he was, could understand why it was best to avoid an international conflict over a stolen rock.
“I’ll be attending the gala as Brucie, allowing Oracle to connect to the internal networks and disable security measures. I’ll cause enough of a scene for you both to get in and out unnoticed.”
“A scene?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jason could hear the smirk in Batman’s voice, “The Batmobile is pulling up now. Nightwing will brief you on the details.”
Red Hood pulled up to the building N was stationed on just as the Batmobile sped into the distance. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Nightwing did a backflip off of the roof and landed in a graceful crouch with his trademark grin. “Crazy, right?”
Hood rolled his eyes, even if Nightwing couldn’t tell from under the helmet. “Get on.”
“Can I drive?” Nightwing made a face. “You’ll probably kill us on that thing.”
“Vigilantes don’t use turn signals, Dickhead.”
N sighed, hopping onto the bike behind Hood and clutching at him in an exaggerated grip as they sped away. He frowned as he glanced at the speedometer. “Seriously? Eighty in a fifty zone?”
“Quit your bellyachin’,” Jason grumbled. “We’re on a jewel heist, not a pleasure cruise. Oh, and by the way, we better not be going in through the air ducts. Not all of us are contortionists.”
“I wanted to, but B said no,” Nightwing admitted. “We’ll be in and out through the underground loading dock.”
“Good choice,” Cobblepot took all of his illegal shipments underground, so there were sure to be no cameras at the entrance, only goons. “Are we gonna have to dress up as bricks of cocaine?”
Oracle cut in over the comms. “Maybe, for extra credit.”
Red Hood sped up, ignoring Nightwings complaints. “Where are we headed, O?”
“Well, first you’re gonna have to find the nearest manhole cover.”
“It’s always the sewers with you guys,” Hood groaned. “Next time, we’re taking a helicopter.”
…..
With the help of the Red Hood’s homebrew extra-strength tranquilizer darts, the vigilantes snuck into the underground entrance of the Iceberg Lounge without much trouble.
Now, after a climb up an elevator shaft and a short stroll through a passageway hidden in the ceiling rafters, the vigilantes lay in wait in the crawlspace above Cobblepot’s office, where the diamond was being kept. They just had to wait for the laser security grid to be disabled by the goons, and then they could take the jewel and run.
“The unveiling is scheduled for midnight. You have about thirty seconds before the goons arrive to retrieve it.” Oracle instructed.
“Copy.” Nightwing muttered.
The gem rested in a glass case on a small table beside the desk. It would be almost too easy to snatch it and run.
On one of the security monitors, Jason caught sight of Bruce in a tux, standing on a banquet table with Oswald Cobblepot. Bruce twirled Penguin around and around in some kind of ludicrous dance, an open bottle of champagne clutched in his free hand.
Somehow, the stuffy gala attendees had been riled into a drunken and off-key rendition of ‘99 Bottles of Beer’.
Nightwing cackled.
“Focus.” Hood commanded, even as he fought his own grin under the helmet. “They’ll be here any minute.”
As if on cue, a series of beeps sounded and the door to the office swung open.
As soon as the lasers disengaged, Nightwing and Red Hood dropped from the ceiling.
A gaggle of goons swarmed the room, all in matching tuxedos.
Nightwing shot forward to claim the diamond while Red Hood turned on them with his dart gun in one hand and a military grade taser in the other. Goons started dropping like flies before they even realized what was happening.
Their movements rapidly slowed, meaning they couldn’t put up much of a fight as they threw themselves towards him.
By the time Hood’s gun was empty of drugged darts, there were only two goons left standing.
A woman lunged for Nightwing, but Jason caught her by the arm and stabbed her in the neck with a wayward dart lying on the floor.
The final goon drew his gun, but Red Hood sent the weapon flying from his hands and yeeted a right hook directly into his jaw.
“Alright, N, let’s take this thing and go. We don’t have much time before their reinforcements arrive—” Jason froze.
Nightwing had pulled a blowtorch from his belt and was actively trying to melt the glass case.
“What the actual fuck, Nightwing?” Jason hissed. “That glass is way too thick for that tiny flame to do anything. Even I know that!”
“The glass wouldn’t break!” Nightwing muttered. “I just have to melt the protective coating enough to shatter the glass.”
“Well hurry it up, arson boy!” Jason snarled.
Footsteps sounded down the hall. There were more goons coming, likely with firearms, and Jason only had knives and his taser left. There was no way he’d be able to disarm them all before one of them got a good shot in.
Fuckin Batman and his ‘no guns’ rule was going to get them killed.
Well, he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try anyway.
Jason dashed to the other side of the room, standing right next to the doorframe in the hopes of ambushing the poor soul who walked in first.
The footsteps were growing louder, now accompanied by radio transmission static and voices too distorted to make out.
Just as Nightwing slammed a stapler from Penguin’s desk into the divot he had melted in the glass case, a guard came hurtling through the door.
Red Hood tackled the man with a grunt, driving his blade into the man’s side. The guard cried out.
“Quit whining, that wasn’t even potentially fatal.” Red Hood grumbled, shoving the man away and rolling to his feet.
There came the sound of shattering glass as Nightwing finally broke through the case. He reached in for the diamond and clutched it triumphantly. “Yes! I got it! Let’s get out of here—-”
In his moment of victory, Nightwing didn’t notice that one of the guards from the first wave had awoken from her slumber. Red Hood caught sight of her just in time to see the guard lunge, a switchblade in hand.
Without thinking, Hood dove forward, pushing Nightwing out of the way. The knife slammed into his ribs, piercing through layers of fabric, skin, and muscle.
He gasped, kicking the woman away. She stayed down, but pulled the knife with her.
Nightwing had been too busy protecting the diamond to watch their scuffle. “Hood? Everything ok?”
“Peachy.” Hood gritted out. The voice modulator in his helmet crackled as he sucked in labored breaths. Hopefully, Nightwing wouldn’t notice the stab wound in his side. “Let’s go.”
A skeptical look. “Really?”
“Now.” Red Hood stumbled out the front door of the office and made for the entrance they entered through.
Nightwing was close behind.
Running through halls and taking down Penguin lackeys with an open wound and (hopefully) bruised ribs was agony for Red Hood, but he grit his teeth and bore it. He felt the blood running steadily down his side underneath his suit, but didn’t dare use a hand to staunch the bleeding, lest Nightwing or Batman found out.
It wasn’t until they were climbing back out of the sewers and into the smoggy streets of Gotham that the world started to spin and twist before his eyes.
Nightwing was saying something, but Red Hood brushed him off. “See you later, loser,”
A hand landed on his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re good?”
Head pounding and breathing hard, his side burning with every breath, Red Hood said, “Fine.”
He walked away before N could spring any more questions on him. His bike was just a few blocks North of the sewer opening.
…Or was it East?
N’s calls had faded, and Red Hood could only hope he’d lost the vigilante. The last thing Hood needed was Dick’s overbearing concern, or worse, Bruce’s.
Red Hood finally pressed a hand to his side, trying to stem the blood flow, and rested the other on a nearby wall for support. Apparently, it was a lot worse than he’d thought.
Blood was bubbling and running through the fabric of his suit, now. Jason tore off his helmet, gasping for air. A smell of iron cut through the air and coated his tongue as he limped in the vague direction of his bike.
He fell to his knees with a strangled sound, trying to force his legs back under him. There was black emptiness advancing at the corners of his vision. His cheek hit the pavement with a fleshy thump, barely enough strength left in his arms to slow the fall.
Shit. Was Jason going to die of a minor stab wound? In a grungy alleyway?
As hard as he tried to stay conscious, lying on his side and taking measured breaths, Jason was running out of energy fast. There was definitely not enough time to make it back to his bike. Even if there was, he was in no shape to drive it.
In a split second decision, Jason swallowed his pride and reached for the helmet discarded a few feet away. He rammed it on his head and opened Oracle’s comm channel, gasping, “...Babs?”
Oracle didn’t bother scolding him for using civilian names on comms. “What’s wrong? Are you ok?”
“Can’t a guy just pop in to say hello?” Jason muttered, annoyed even on the verge of blacking out.
“Hood.” Oracle warned.
“I think…I might be dying.” Jason slurred.
“Where are you? I can have the batmobile swing by to pick you up in five—”
But Jason was already out.
Amidst the thick darkness of sleep, he thought he could feel his body lifted by a pair of strong arms.
“I’m here, Jaylad, I’ve got you. Everything’s gonna be ok.”
…….
When Jason woke, it was to the dim lighting and cool air of the bat cave. There were bandages wrapped carefully around his abdomen and an IV needle embedded in his arm.
He blinked. “Wha–?”
“Jay!” Dick perked up from the chair at his bedside. “Are you actually lucid this time?”
“Unfortunately.” Jason muttered. “What am I——What am I doing here?”
“You got stabbed, remember? Passed out in an alley? Oracle found you by sheer luck.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, you’re an idiot, by the way. Tim, Damian, Duke, and Cass all agree.”
Jason glared, even if it looked as pathetic as he felt. “Thanks.”
“It’s true,” Cass chirped from his other side.
Jason sighed, wincing as it made his ribs twinge. “Cut me some slack, I just got stabbed.”
“Are you in pain?” Dick murmured.
“Obviously.”
“Painkillers?” Cass offered.
“Nope.”
Dick just gave him a sad smile. “Get some rest, little wing.”
Jason wanted to protest, but everything hurt and his mind was already pulling him down into the unconscious void.
….
A warm hand rested on top of Jason’s. There was a voice reading aloud to him. It was deep and rumbling and familiar, pitching up every so often to mimic the voices of Elizabeth and Jane Bennett.
It was absolutely not comforting. Definitely not. It was the opposite of comforting. Whatever that was.
“The fuck’re you doin?” Jason croaked out.
“Jay-lad,” Bruce whispered, eyes lighting up like Jason had just hung the stars instead of cussing him out. “How are you feeling?”
“Really great.” Jason deadpanned. “Just fantastic.”
Bruce chuckled softly. “I’m sure. Do you need anything?”
“You’re pronouncing Mr. Wickham’s name wrong. The ‘h’ is silent.” Jason grumbled.
“Noted. Anything else?”
Jason suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be protesting. Was he seriously just letting Bruce keep him in the cave? “I’m not staying here.”
“...You’re always welcome, you know.” There was a warmth in Bruce’s tone that made Jason’s heart seize.
“I’m not staying.” He repeated, almost trying to convince himself.
“Just a few more hours? Alfred would be so disappointed if he didn’t get to talk to you.”
“Fine.” Jason huffed. It was Alfred, after all.
“Thank you, son.” Bruce continued reading before Jason could muster up a biting reply.
And if Jason was only pretending to be asleep when Bruce pressed a kiss to his forehead, that was no one’s business but his own.
…..
“You awake?” Dick murmured, brushing hair from his clammy forehead.
Jason let his eyes fall shut again. “No.”
“About what happened: I’m so sorry, little wing. If I had just—”
“Ughhhhhhhh. Stop. Don’t be a martyr, Dickie,” Jason cut him off, peeling his eyes open. “I’m fine. You’re fine. Everyone’s fine.”
“No thanks to you!”
“I saved your life, dickhead.”
“And then you proceeded to hide your potentially fatal injuries from us until you were actually on the brink of death.”
“What was I supposed to say? Great job guys! Oh, yeah, I got stabbed, by the way.”
“Yes! Better that than letting us find you in a heap in an alleyway.”
“I could’ve dealt with it myself.”
“When? Right after you bled out on the ground?”
Jason scowled and turned away. “How was I supposed to know you would even try to help?”
Dick gawked at him. “Seriously? Do you think I would just leave you there?”
“Batman would.” Jason muttered.
Dick scoffed. “Bruce was the one to bring you here, not me. He didn’t leave your side for thirty-six hours straight after we brought you home.”
“Probably just to make sure I didn’t wake up and steal the Batmobile.”
There was a moment of silence, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid.
Jason had almost fallen back to sleep by the time Dick spoke up again. “He won’t let anybody touch the books you were last reading in the library, because your bookmarks are still in them. Did you know?”
Jason blinked, “That’s not even possible. I haven’t been back to the library since…”
“I know.”
“Why would you even tell me that? Are you mad that you had to buy your own copy of Mansfield Park?”
“You know why.”
Jason didn’t even have it in him to be angry. Instead, he repeated the same words he’d believed since the moment he was resurrected. “He doesn’t care about me, Dick. Maybe he did once, but that kid is dead. Last I checked, he wasn’t adopting murderous crime lords.”
Instead of reacting to Jason’s usual (and oft-repeated) depressing spiel, Dick snorted. “...you actually call yourself a crime lord? That’s hilarious. Ooooooohhhh Look at me, I’m the lord of crime. Rahhhh so scary. More like edgelord.”
Jason rolled his eyes, then regretted it immediately when the motion made him dizzy. “Fuck off. It was the news networks, not me.”
“Yeah, yeah, blame it on the adoring fans.”
“I wouldn't say adoring.”
“Seriously? The kids in Crime Alley love you. I’ve seen how they run up to you. If one of them felt lost or scared, I know exactly who they’d turn to,” Dick said. “And don’t think I haven’t seen the sticker stash in your jacket. I think I oughta start carrying stickers. I should see if I can get Nightwing branded ones…”
“The princess ones always go fastest. But always keep the shiny rainbow stars and smiley faces around just in case,” Jason advised, before he could stop himself.
“Aawww, see, you’re not such a big, bad crime lord after all,” Dick cooed.
“I’ve killed people.” Jason snapped. “Lots of them.”
“Yes. But you help people.” Dick insisted. “Look, I might not agree with your methods. But Batman and Red Hood shouldn’t get in the way of Bruce and Jason.”
“Whatever.” Jason muttered. He didn’t have the energy to argue any longer.
Dick sighed and stood. “I’ll send Alfred down in a few minutes.”
…..
“Master Jason,” Alfred smiled warmly, sitting primly by Jason’s bedside. “It is good to see you again. Though, I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Jason offered a half smile in return. “Hey, Alf,”
“About you and Master Bruce.”
Jason was in no mood to dance around the situation. He narrowed his eyes. “I died in his arms and he still refused to end my killer’s life.”
Alfred lowered himself slowly to sit on the edge of Jason’s bed, letting the tension in the air settle before he spoke. “He tried, you know. Clark had to stop him by force.”
“If I really mattered to him, he would’ve tried again.” Jason muttered.
“Jay,” Alfred began gently. Jason knew, whatever was about to come out of the man’s mouth, he wasn’t going to like it. “How long are you going to fixate on your death? How long are you going to hold it against Master Bruce? It’s tearing you both to pieces.”
“What am I supposed to do? Forget it ever happened? Just move on?” Jason spat.
“Certainly not. But sooner or later, you must begin to heal. You have punished your father enough,” Alfred said quietly. “You have punished yourself enough.”
“His wellbeing isn’t my responsibility. If I want to leave, I’m going to. That’s my decision.” Jason protested, choosing to ignore the second half of Alfred’s declaration.
“Of course. If you truly wish to be forever separate from the Wayne household, then I will respect your decision,” Alfred placed a warm, firm hand on his shoulder. “But I know you, and something tells me you are not so satisfied on your own as you pretend to be.”
Jason looked away, heart squeezing. He wanted to lie, but just couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not to Alfred. “It’s worth it. The freedom is worth it. I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”
“I’m not asking you to lock yourself in a cell for eternity,” Alfred chuckled. “Just stop by, once in a while. You don’t even have to talk to your father, just don’t antagonize him. That’s all I’m asking. I’ll even make cookies.”
As much as Jason hated to admit it, it did sound reasonable. He sighed. “Fine. I’ll do my best. But I’m doing this for you. Not for him.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Alfred conceded. He cupped Jason’s face and brushed a calloused thumb over his cheekbone, giving Jason a look so fond that he thought the old man might explode, “Thank you, my boy.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Jason mumbled. “What if I just decide to jet off in the middle of the night and you don’t see me for decades?”
“Then I will be patiently waiting and hoping for your return,” Alfred said, giving Jason’s hand a squeeze. “Just as I have been these past years.”
Alfred sounded so earnest that a lump formed in Jason’s throat.
He had missed this. Dick and Alfred. Even Bruce, loath as he was to admit it.
Jason turned away so Alfred wouldn’t see the tears gathering in his eyes. Damn stab wounds always made him feel so fragile.
Alfred gave his hand another squeeze. “I’ll be back later with some soup for you. Do try to get some rest.”
Jason’s mind swirled with all of the things that had been said. He reached out to catch Alfred before the man could leave. “Alfred?”
“Yes, my boy?”
“Thank you. For everything.”
A fond look from Alfred. “Of course.”
It wasn’t long before Jason fell into the easiest sleep of his life, a smile ghosting his lips