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“I've got him!”
“Jason, wait-”
Bruce calls out to their pint-sized ghost hunter and Dick watches in horror as Jason sprints across the foggy room towards the ghost they have spent the better part of two days chasing through the old mansion. Time seems to move in slow motion as Jason leaps through the air - Dick waits with baited breath, his stomach twisting as he fears Jason is about to scare off their first real encounter.
The first concrete proof that there is something out there in the afterlife.
Then Jason collides with something solid.
Dick had expected him to go tumbling to the floor, the ghost vanishing when he got too close the same way it had every time they'd come across it before. Instead Jason is stopped in his tracks with an audible “oof”, and his nose crinkles up in confusion.
“What the?”
Bruce strides across the room, fog parting in his wake. He digs his fist into the “ghost” even as it tries to struggle from Jason's hold, and flings his arm back, tearing the white layer of fabric from its body. Dick can feel his heart rip into two even before it's even revealed who or what is underneath.
“Cobblepot,” Bruce growls at the stubby man now cowering in front of them.
Jason's surprised face would be almost comical if it weren't for the fact that it quickly drops into soul crushing disappointment. It lingers there for only the briefest moment though before transforming to something far too similar to Bruce's expression - pure rage.
“Why?” He demands, giving the man a hard shake. Oswald Cobblepot squawks and tries to flee but Bruce's grip is strong.
“But you're the one who hired us!” Jason cries, stepping forward with his tiny hand hardened into a fist. “Why do this?”
“Property taxes!” He huffs indignantly, still struggling in Bruce's grasp. “Do you know how much the value of this property would plummet once Gotham's most famous ghost hunter deemed it haunted?”
Dick scoffs and leaves the room. He's heard enough. As he walks through the parlor towards the grand entryway, he kicks a small plush ottoman in frustration. It topples over, skirting across the room, and Dick hears an odd crunching sound. Following the felled furniture he turns it upright and discovers the top is removable. He blinks down at the projector concealed inside.
He clenches his fist tightly, digging his nails into his palms to ground himself and resist the urge to smash it to pieces. Gordon will want it as evidence - this is another clear cut fraud case, and Dick is certain Bruce will report it.
-
Dick leans against the GhostMobile as Bruce and Jason approach, leaving Gordon to push Cobblepot into the backseat of his cop car. Bruce says nothing as he stalks past him and into the car.
When Dick finally slides in beside him, Bruce's hands are fisted tightly around the steering wheel, but he's staring straight through the windshield and hasn't started the car. Jason's concerned face peeps out from the backseat.
“Next time… next time it will be real for sure! Right, B?”
Bruce doesn't say anything in response, and Dick can feel a hot familiar feeling twisting in his own chest. Another fake, another failure.
“Maybe it's time we give this up,” he says.
Jason gasps.
“We are not giving up,” Bruce growls.
“How long have we been at this?” Dick's mouth turns down into an angry scowl, pent up frustration finally exploding out with his words. “Spending all this time trying to commune with the dead, and for what? It's been fake after fake after fake. For every scrap of credible evidence we find, there's a mountain of lies, cheats, and scams. Let's face it - we're never going to see them again.”
“We will -” Bruce's voice raises, “We just need a few more real samples and we’ll find a way to communicate.”
“That's right!” Jason adds, leaning his whole body into the front of the car. “And then I'll get to talk to mom again! And you and B, you'll get to see your moms too. And your dads -”
“If they were able to contact us they would have done it already. Either they can't-”
“Dick-” Bruce warns.
“Or they don't want to!”
“Get out!”
“Fine.”
Dick gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He glances towards Gordon still parked in front of the Cobblepot mansion, but Dick turns away and begins walking down the long driveway. He doesn’t know where he’d ask for a ride to anyways. It’s time to move on with his life - he’s wasted enough of it with Bruce’s false promises and hopes.
-
Three years later, Alfred rings Dick’s Bludhaven apartment to inform him of Jason’s death. Dick is already aware, as the teenage boy is floating right beside him.
"I told you so."