Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

This isn't where he wanted to be.

Sitting on a rooftop in Gotham, wearing his Nightwing suit, moments away from meeting with Bruce. Dick feels his skin crawl. He doesn't deserve to be in these colors, not after what happened to Blockbuster. After what Dick did.

The phone call from Bruce yesterday is what has him back here. He's at least glad he doesn't have to be in Blüd anymore. A good distraction he doesn't feel like he deserves.

The silent swish of a cape is what catches his attention. Hopping up onto his feet with an almost instinctive flourish, Dick gives Bruce a casual smile. The move isn't as fluid as it usually is, but he hopes his time away hides that. He doesn't even know what to say, like every sentence that comes to mind brings his sins bubbling to the surface. 

Bruce must know. He has to. The two of them have worked together for so long, they can read each other like themselves. Dick intentionally keeps his shoulders loose and starts moving around. Casual. He needs to be casual.

Dark and brooding as ever. That's B for you, but he isn't blind to the release of tension Bruce gets when he's around. It’s not the same though. He’s still too tense.

“What’s wrong?” Dick can already feel cold sweat forming on his skin when Bruce asks. He chokes out a dismissal before he backtracks. Bruce knows him too well. 

He almost tells Bruce. He wants to, but he thinks he might die if he has to face that disappointment for killing Blockbuster. “I just want to help, B. Let me do something-” 

Dick can feel Bruce analyzing him before he decides to move into briefing Dick. This won’t be the end of this, he knows Bruce too well.

"We are on the cusp of complete chaos,"

"It's Tuesday, B. When isn't Gotham?" The sigh he gets in return lights up Dick's chest more than he feels allowed. He knows humor won’t fix what Bruce noticed about him, but Dick can’t help grasping for that familiarity.

Pulling up some scene photos and documents, Bruce walks him through what's been happening the last month and a half.

A trail of bodies that only seemed to be growing. It seemed like every gang in Gotham was fighting for a shot at crime’s crown. 

“What started this?” Dick couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photos. They reminded him of that rainy night. He felt like he couldn't let himself turn away like he had in that stairwell. 

Bruce turns the screen off and focuses back on Dick. His skin starts to crawl again with the attention. “I’m not sure. All the major gang leaders were called to a meeting six weeks ago. The organizer is unknown currently, but of the twenty-one attendees, eight made it out. I’ve sent everything we know so far.”

With that, Batman turns around, his cape billowing behind him, and he grapples towards the next roof. No words need to be spoken for Nightwing to follow close behind. It’s how they’ve always done things. The familiarity starts to put him at ease before he reminds himself of Blockbuster. 

They slow their pace a few rooftops over. They don’t stop, but Dick knows Bruce is about to say something.

“Whatever it is you aren’t telling me,” It isn’t Batman’s voice, it never is with stuff like this. “we’ll talk about it later.” Dick can only agree. He knows they’ll need to talk about it and he’s dreading when the time comes.

Things have continued to spiral out of control. Gotham has started enforcing a curfew on the citizens and gang wars continue all across the city. 

Dick is currently fighting some guys when the familiar Robin colors come crashing through the window. He pauses long enough to address Tim, wondering if everything is alright.

The smile he gets in return is answer enough and Tim quickly sweeps one of the men’s legs out from under him. He flips away from another, just like Dick taught him so long ago. 

“I was wondering if I could pick your brain for some advice.” Dick stutters in his movements at that. He loves that he can be someone for Tim to come to when he needs to, but should he really be giving the kid advice? After what he’s done? 

Shaking himself out of his head, he gives Tim a concerned look. “Is everything ok?” The laugh he gets in return to his question eases Dick’s mind slightly. He isn’t looking at Robin, busy with disarming one of the guys.

“Oh, yeah, don’t worry, I was just-” Tim is cut off when he’s tackled from behind. Dick rips the man off of Tim and the kid jumps back up. Distracted by the goon he doesn’t notice the molotov. He hears it shatter on the ground and the flames spread quickly. He can’t ignore the burning images of Jason that appear in his mind. Such a young kid in that warehouse. 

When he calls out for Robin and doesn’t get a response he can only imagine the worst. He races through the flames for any sight of those Robin colors. He was here this time and he didn’t do anything. Just like Blockbuster. He keeps letting people die and it’s all his fault. How could he possibly give Tim advice if he can’t even protect him from something so simple? Dick can’t even imagine what he’ll tell Bruce. Another Robin. Bruce wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He can see them all in the flames. Everyone he loved from his apartment, Roland Desmond, Jason, Tim. They stare at him with glassy eyes, their skin charing and their hair burning. It smells horrible, but he can’t give himself the satisfaction of looking away. Looking away like he keeps doing. He needs to watch. To face how he’s failed all these people.

Dick doesn’t realize he’s stopped moving, collapsed to his knees amongst angry fire, until Tim is holding a rebreather out for Dick to take. As he holds it to his mouth it takes him a moment to register that what he thought was sweat from the heat is actually tears, pouring down his face.

After Dick lets Robin help him out of the building he isn’t surprised by Tim’s immediately concerned questions, but he can’t answer. He can’t ruin that image Tim has of him. Dick knows it’s selfish and cowardly, but he can’t handle the thought of losing that closeness they have.

“Are the women out?” The glare Dick can see in Tim’s mask is understandable. He can’t keep brushing everyone’s concerns off, but the women those guys were hurting are important.

There’s an annoyed sigh, but Tim still answers and Dick is thankful for that. “Yeah, I got everyone out and reported the fire. But what happened in there? You’re still crying!” Dick brings a hand to his face. His gloves are wet when he looks at them, but all he can do is change the topic again.

“You had something you wanted to ask earlier?” He can see the frustration on the kid’s face. It wasn’t the correct response, but failing to meet everyone’s expectations is starting to feel normal.

“I just wanted to ask if you knew what was going on with B. He seemed upset and I wasn’t sure if it was because of me, but it’s fine. I need to go back to patrol. Just…stay safe ok?” Dick hates the guilt that drops onto him at that. He doesn’t even have a chance to respond before Tim scales the fire escape nearby. 

He knows it’s not Tim Bruce is mad at. It’s him.

Out on patrol, Firefly is the last person he expects to run into, probably trying to take advantage of the chaos and curfew. 

Gotham is alight with flames and Dick goes leaping through a window, following the arsonist’s flying form. 

The man is tearing through the drawers of a desk when Dick finds him. “Something important in there?” Crouched on top of a filing cabinet, he can’t help the smirk when Firefly spooks at his words.

”Yeah, my money. Someone died before they paid me.” 

“Don’t think you’ll be getting that money.” Dick leaps towards Firefly and a jet of fire flies his way. Dick ducks behind the desk for cover.

“Burn in hell, mask!” Dick can’t help the scoff when he hears it. Everything has felt like that recently. The continued appearance of fire since everything in Blüd is obviously a sign of that. 

“Already there,” Dick sneers as he throws the desk towards Firefly. He can’t help the disappointment when he dodges.

“What are you trying to do?! Kill me?! The Bats wouldn’t-” The words die in Firefly's mouth when he looks at Dick.

Standing amongst the flames as he moves towards Firefly he knows he must look scary, though probably not as much as Batman always does.

“You’re- You’re the mask who killed Blockbuster- back in Blüdhaven!” Dick starts to panic at those words. How had it made it to Gotham?! Judgment was following him. 

He can’t let Bruce find out this soon. 

He needs to tell him.

Dick can’t though. 

Not yet.

He needs to focus.

He’s been so distracted lately. When he saw Firefly he felt more focused, but now he feels his mind drifting. He’s fighting on autopilot. He knows he should be pulling his punches more, he’s only proving how horrible he is. 

What is he going to do when he kills Firefly?

He can’t even let it be an “if”. He knows he’s not that good anymore, but the thought makes him want to vomit.

The glass door is shattered when Dick throws Firefly through it. Out on the street, he doesn’t have to focus on the fire here. He knows Babs has already reported it, which means Dick should leave soon.

Lifting Firefly they go back to fighting, but not for long. The police shout at them, but Dick isn’t listening. He can’t let his sins get out. He’ll just knock the arsonist out and then the police will be too distracted cuffing him to follow Dick.

There’s some discussion between the cops that Dick doesn’t hear. 

He thinks he knows what it was though when the gunshots start.

Dick grabs Firefly, moving him in front of the gunfire. His metal wings should help.

“You’re using me as a human shield?!” It’s hard to hear over all the noise, but Firefly sounds more shocked than worried. He knows Bruce would be disappointed.

Dick punches Firefly and clearly, it’s the worst idea because he’s made himself vulnerable at the worst time.

White hot pain.

Right through his thigh. 

He crumples to the ground but is quickly lifted by the arsonist. It doesn’t help the pain at all. 

He needs to get out of here. He doesn’t have to feel the blood running down his leg to know it’s there and fighting will only increase the flow.

Firefly laughs. “They got you,”

“Yeah-” Dick grunts as he tries to change his stance, “But I’ve got you.”

A hard punch and Firefly crumples.

The police pause their fire only long enough for Dick to tell them Firefly and him aren’t worth their time before bullets fly past him again.

Whispering a prayer Dick fires his grapple, hoping his leg isn’t as bad as it feels.

He would love to say he’s surprised when he collapses to the ground upon landing on the roof, but when he opens his eyes and sees how much blood there already is, he can only groan as he tries to put pressure on it.

He should call Bruce. 

He should.

But he doesn’t feel worth it. Maybe it’d be better if he stayed bleeding out on the roof. Maybe he’d stop failing everyone around him.

Dick isn’t sure how much time passes between his arrival on the roof, slippery gloves trying to stop the bleeding, and his vision blurring.

The tiredness is a bad sign but he can’t bring himself to care.

He thinks he hears the crunch of gravel but he never called anyone and his hearing is muffled. The boots in his vision are even more confusing. He doesn’t recognize them. Simple black combat boots.

Something is said by the person in the boots but between the ringing in his ears and the modulator he can’t make it out. He passes out before he can hope to get a better look at the person.

He wakes up fast, sitting up and immediately crying out in pain. 

He’s not on the roof anymore…

There’s a bed under him.

Looking around he recognizes the room. It’s the apartment Bruce bought for him while he lived in Blüdhaven and didn’t want to stay in the manor while helping in Gotham.

The note on his bed catches his eye and he grabs the bottle of painkillers as he reads. 

“Ex-cop shot by cops. Ironic.” The handwriting is neat and something about is familiar but he can’t place it.

Chapter Text

Dick hates being back in the manor but with his gunshot wound and the mysterious person that’s seen his face, it’s for the best. When he’d finally gotten his bearings after waking up, he’d realized his mask had been removed.

Dick hates that he might have jeopardized everyone with his carelessness. Alfred kept saying it wasn’t his fault for falling unconscious after losing so much blood, but Dick never called Bruce. No one knew where he was or what his condition was. Maybe he would have died but then everyone would still be in danger. The same person would still know who he was.

The tension between him and Bruce is horrible. Every time he looks at Dick he knows the inevitable conversation grows closer.

The temptation to leave gets stronger too. He knows he’s only running away, but he can’t help it. It’s easier to pretend it’s just because the manor is too big and quiet.

It’d been only a little while since he’d been shot, but with the help of a brace, he’s back out in Gotham. He can’t stand staying cooped up even though he doesn’t feel worthy of being Nightwing. So here he is, looking for leads on whoever is taking over the Gotham underworld.

They still had no information on the guy. Just that apparently someone was orchestrating more than they’d thought. From the original gang meeting to the curfew and increasing number of bodies.

He’s watching two higher-ranked goons meet when he sees it, or them he supposes. 

He can’t make out many details from this far away, but he knows he doesn’t recognize them. They’re sporting a red helmet and it makes Dick worry. It can’t be a good sign. He knows he should report it, but he doesn’t want to deal with any of the Bats right now.

Against his better judgment, he silently makes his way towards the person.

He hasn’t even made it halfway when the figure’s head snaps up and locks eyes with him. How did they even hear him? Dick can seak up on Bruce, his knee shouldn’t have affected him enough for him to be noticeable.

Dick expects the person to run, but instead, they stand up and start walking towards him. Ok, he’s a little more worried.

“You’re out sooner than I thought, but I can’t say I’m shocked.” His brain short circuits when he hears the modulator. It’s the same voice he heard the night he got shot.

“You. Who are you?” Dick takes a step closer. The guy is tall, probably around Bruce’s height.

“Aw can’t go spoiling the surprise so soon,” The modulator can’t cover the audible smirk in the voice. “Good to see you’re feeling better.” Is this guy teasing him?

“What-”

“Gotta run! -Oh that’s a little insensitive! Feel better Dickie-bird.” The man laughs. It comes out staticy and garbled. But Dick can only focus on the ice in his veins.

Against his better judgment, he starts racing after Jason- the person. 

-That can’t be right, but no one else calls him that. 

But it can’t be true.

Dick can’t keep up with him but his leg is burning. It isn’t long before Dick loses sight of him.

He can’t let anyone know about this. What would they think? They’d think Dick was more insane than they probably do currently. What would he even say? “I think I was saved by your dead son, Bruce.” 

Dick would probably end up in Arkham.

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone when Dick decided he couldn’t stand the tension between him and Bruce and a fight ensued. 

It’s not a surprise either when Dick leaves Gotham either. He doesn’t bother to share where he’s going. 

Maybe it’s the guilt that finds him back in Blüdhaven. He’s lost everything he thought he had, but maybe it’s for the best. He tries to build a new life. One without Nightwing. It’s safer for everyone.

He hadn’t been here for long. Bruce was too busy with the gang war in Gotham to bother with Dick and he liked it that way.

Dick has the itch to do something about the crime happening around him, but he refrains. He continues trying to live a peaceful life.

But that doesn’t last long though.

Apparently, Black Mask can’t keep to Gotham. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried to branch out into Gotham. It was only a matter of time now that Blockbuster was gone.

Still, Dick keeps his head down, but when headlines start appearing with sightings of Nightwing, Dick can’t keep playing dumb. What catches his attention even more is the trail of bodies this doppelganger is leaving.

Anger burns under his skin. Those are his colors and someone is hurting people in his colors. Using his name!

It’s only two nights after the headlines appear that Dick finds himself back in his colors. Blüdhaven wasn’t his anymore, but it wasn’t this impersonator’s either. 

Thankfully whoever it is hasn’t covered their trail very well. 

Dick can already see a difference in people’s reactions when they spot him making his way across the city. The tension in their frames. The fear in their eyes. It makes Dick feel sick. Luckily as soon as Dick has dealt with the false Nightwing, they won’t have to see that blue symbol again.

He finds the man quickly. Dick starts to approach slowly, when the man shoves his victim up against the side of a building Dick pauses. 

The false Nightwing pulls out a knife. 

Dick pulls out a wingding and throws it, hitting him in the hand. He curses, drops the knife, and spins around. His frame is full of anger but when he locks eyes on Dick he…smiles?

The victim takes the moment to run and the other Nightwing spins around to face him. He starts to chase the person but Dick throws another wingding.

The attention is back on Dick and the smile ghosts back onto that face.

“I was a little busy.” The tone is so casual it makes Dick’s blood boil.

“Impersonating me?!” The man’s hands go up and he stands still when Dick responds, storming towards him.

“Hey, you were on vacation, someone had to pick up the slack.” His hands are still raised and Dick grabs a fist full of the fake Nightwing suit. It’s high quality and looks almost exactly like Dick’s.

“Who are you? I won’t ask twice.” Dick grits out and the person’s smile only grows.

Dick wasn’t really expecting a response, but he doesn’t anticipate what he does get. “Can’t go spoiling the surprise, Dickie-bird,”

He releases the man’s suit like he’s been burned.

“You?!” Dick only gets a laugh in return.

“The one and only, but you don’t even know who that is.” 

Dick takes a step back, trying to take the impersonator’s appearance in. It feels so familiar and foreign at the same time.

When the man’s hand reaches for his domino Dick almost stops him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if his delusion is right. It’s a slow process and Dick can tell it’s painful. He wonders if the mask is held on with the same adhesive Dick uses considering how much else is accurately duplicated.

Small spots on the person’s skin speckle with blood from being ripped by the adhesive.

The face.

He doesn’t recognize all of it, but those eyes. And now that he thinks about it, that smirk.

That smirk that is currently being thrown in Dick’s own face. He must be going insane. “It can’t be,”

“You bet it can,” A grin. This….Jason is full-on grinning at him and Dick can only feel like the world is spinning too fast.

He can’t help but stumble back and hands are on him, keeping Dick’s knees from crashing into the ground beneath him. “How…” Is all he can get out. His mouth feels dry, but also like he might vomit.

That is until he remembers who or what is in front of him. Dick shoves the hands off, falling backward.

“You aren’t him!” Dick jumps back up shoving the figure up against the wall. Dick thinks back to when this interaction first started. Maybe he really isn’t any better than this doppelganger, who’s to say Dick couldn’t threaten him with the same discarded knife on the ground?

“Why do you say that? Is it because I should be dead?” That stupid grin. It’s taunting him.

“He wouldn’t be killing people,” Dick sneers but the imposter pauses. His eyes are wide and confused, mouth open. He hates how much they look like Jason’s. “Don’t sully his memory!”

The man’s voice breaks but Dick can still make out the “What?”.

“You heard me! You can ruin my reputation all you want, I’m already a murderer, but don’t dirty his name like that!” Dick can feel tears welling in his eyes. It hurts. It hurts admitting it allowed, but mostly he’s angry someone is pretending to be the kid he let die. Somehow this shocks the impersonator even more.

He covers it with a scoff. “Oh please, the second Robin killed. That’s why he went looking for an early grave” It’s the Jason’s turn to sneer. Dick isn’t sure what to make of that information. It makes him angry but the verbalization of who Dick feels like he’s looking at as well as the other details cause him to pause. 

Apparently for too long. 

Tears are appearing in the other person’s eyes too but he slips from Dick’s grasp. He squares his shoulders and keeps the distance between him and Dick. The impersonator takes a few more steps back and Dick can only watch.

He takes a breath before glaring. “Stop wallowing in guilt for something you didn’t even do.”

Dick is confused, but only for a moment. “I’m the reason Blockbuster is dead-”

“No. Tarantula is. You were just a witness.” He doesn’t understand what the Jason is even saying. “Exactly! I stood by-”.

“And what? You didn’t take a bullet for a monster? Please, I’ve killed people that aren’t nearly as evil. You and B have the most frustrating moral code. Stop trying to kill yourself over someone who doesn’t even deserve a gravestone.” His posture is angry, but more at the situation rather than at Dick himself.

Dick can’t even say anything. What would he even say? That Bruce wouldn’t understand the difference? Maybe he should ask about the insinuation that Jason had killed someone, but he isn’t even sure if that’s true, if this Jason is true. A dead kid back from the grave, alive and committing murders?

He isn’t sure when Jason gets onto the fire escape, but he says something before disappearing over the roof. “Put that Nightwing suit on so Bruce stops wallowing in shame and gets himself killed.”

Dick stands there for a long time before he picks up the wingdings he’d thrown. The domino is still there on the ground. He collects it with shaking hands, staring at the pots of blood on the inside.

At least he knows it wasn’t a dream.

Whatever the other Nightwing had done before he left Blüd had caused Black Mask to find his way back to Gotham. Dick had also found his way back to Gotham and here he was, on another roof with Bruce.

“We need to talk.” Dick had barely popped out of his recovery roll and Bruce was already getting serious. “You’re hiding something,” Dick’s blood runs cold. How did he know about the Jason impersonator already?

“I know who killed Roland Desmond.” He says it so coldly and DIck feels like he’s getting whiplash. 

“Bruce, I’m sorry- I-” Bruce holds up a hand and Dick stops his attempts at a defense. He supposes it’s only fair. It’s his crime. He knows he’s guilty, and so does Bruce.

“I’m not happy about Blockbuster’s death, but that is Catalina’s problem, not yours.” Dick pauses, confused. “But I- You should be angry-”

Bruce just sighs. “I am. You hid this from me, and we will be revisiting this, but I can’t have you being a liability in the field.” He takes a step closer to Dick, resting his hand on DIck’s shoulder and DIck can’t help leaning into the touch.

“I also can’t stand you neglecting your life in the shadow of Blockbuster’s death”

DIck had snuck down to the Batcave, the false Nightwing’s domino in hand. Bruce was out patrolling so he’d have time. Part of him was too scared to test it. Scared it would be true., but he gathered the courage and set up a sample.

He didn’t know what to do with the positive match. Should he tell Bruce? He was already on thin enough ice with the secrets, but how would he feel about Jason being a murderer?

Dick had deleted all of the data and snuck away back to his new apartment, quietly closing the door behind him. The silhouette in his living room was starting to not be very shocking.

“You finally tested it,” The tone was so casual again.

“How?” It was the only thing he could think to ask.

“I don’t know, but here I am. Isn’t that all that matters?” There was something odd about the way Jason said it that had Dick flipping the room light on. Jason wasn’t looking at him.

He didn’t actually want to know, but he had to ask, “Why did you kill them? All those people?”. Jason scoffed, still averting his gaze, opting to scan his apartment instead. It wasn’t like there was anything interesting to see. All of his things had been lost in his first apartment. “They were horrible people. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

Dick frowns, “That doesn’t mean you can just kill them!”. Dick watches Jason sit down on his couch, opting to analyze his gloves. 

“Please, you know Bruce's method doesn't work. That's why you didn't stop Tarantula. You knew Blockbuster wouldn't stop until he was dead.” The look he gives Dick makes him wish he was still staring anywhere else. Jason always had such emotional eyes. They held every thought and it was often too much for Dick to handle. Maybe that's why the memory of Jason haunted him so easily? There didn't need to be any spoken words for Jason's ghost to express all his pain and disappointment with Dick. He tried to be there, but when it really counted, he let him down. He can't let those eyes keep haunting him. But that would take time. For now he just needed to learn what happened.

“Why were you pretending to be me?” He needed to know.

“I couldn't let you throw your life away because of someone like Blockbuster.”

“I wasn't throwing my life away.” He glared at Jason who didn't seem to believe him. “So you were happy? Feeling fulfilled without Nightwing? If that was the case you wouldn't have come running at the first excuse to put the suit back on.” Dick wished he had a response, but he knew it was right. He kept having to tell himself to keep a distance. That he wasn't worthy of Nightwing. He still didn't feel worthy, but he was working on it. People needed him

“Does Bruce know you're alive?” If he can’t give a response, he'll just ask more questions.

“He will.” The smile makes him uncomfortable. There's scheming behind it, almost like everything is leading up to it. 

“You could tell him. He'd be so happy-” 

“No, he wouldn't.” Jason sneers at the suggestion. “Not after what I've done, what I'm going to do. This isn't a family get-together. This is fixing Gotham, plain and simple.” Jason stands up and Dick feels a desperate urge to keep him here, like he'd disappear if he left Dick’s sight. 

“Stay- I- maybe we can get some food? You've been gone a long time. Maybe you can tell me what you've been up to?” He doesn't know what he's hoping to gain from keeping Jason here. Maybe that he'll convince him that Bruce needs to know he's back. Maybe a desperate attempt to keep whatever scheme he saw in Jason's eyes from coming to fruition. Trying figure out what Jason had meant back in Blüdhaven when he mentioned killing someone as Robin. Or maybe just a selfish attempt at gaining more forgiveness because trying harder with Tim didn't make up for his failure with Jason. But part of him knew he just wanted to make up for lost time.

To be honest, Dick didn't really care. He needed Jason to stay. He couldn't shake the feeling something bad would happen if he let Jason get away again.

“Fine. But after this timer goes off, I'm gone.” He glares at Dick, holding up a phone. There's something deeper in those eyes. Something nervous. The look he gets he thinks is probably because Jason assumes he'll say no.

“Works fine with me. You can pick wherever you want to eat. I can pick if you're not sure.” Dick offers, already pulling out his phone. It's quickly snatched out of his hands and powered off, lively because he doesn't trust Dick to not share Jason's existence.

“I know a place.” Jason is already walking and Dick is scrambling to follow Jason out of his apartment. He can’t lose sight of him. Not again. He needs to know more.

Dick would like to say he's surprised when they find themselves outside a restaurant the two of them had been to back when they were younger, but he's not. He's especially not surprised by the choice when he notices the lack of surveillance anywhere nearby. Slightly more promising that Jason won't start running the second he gets his food.