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There were only four of them on patrol tonight. Batman, himself, Red Hood and Red Robin. Damian had school in the morning and the girls were on a case with the birds of prey.
It was nice though, reminiscent of the old times when it had been only him and Bruce on the rooftops. When he didn’t have to be the mediator or glue keeping everyone together.
The city had been oddly quiet for over a week now. Hardly any muggings or murders and no breakout from Arkham or Blackgate in sight.
“Hey, I’m heading in. I have some work for W.E. I have to get done before the meeting tomorrow, if anything changes, call. I’ll still be up for a while,” Red Robin said through the coms, breaking Nightwings inner monologue.
Dick couldn’t help but smile as he reached up. Turning on his microphone to reply “take a nap baby bird, we will be fine.” It didn’t escape him how Tim had evaded saying ‘slow’ or ‘quiet’ in his description of the night. Sure there was no proof in jinxes, but it was still better to not tempt fate.
And then there were three.
Flicking through the com so that he was only talking to Hood, Nightwing asked, “hey, Hood. Wanna split a pizza?”
“As long as you don’t get fucking pinapple again,” Hood replied, laughing to himself through the reply.
Dick, still in a good mood, asked “you want pepperoni or margherita?”
“Surprise me,” came the curt reply before he signed off the com.
0o0o0
They sat on a roof top, munching away as they talked shop. But, something had been scratching the back of Dick’s brain for a while.
“Hey,” he started. “After all of this time, all your fights with everyone and claiming we aren’t your family. What made you change your mind?”
Jason leaned back, leaning on his elbows as his lower legs swung back and forth over the edge of the building. Like he was indifferent to the way Dick had steered the conversation.
“It always bothered me, y’know? That Bruce wouldn’t kill the Joker. Back then, I thought it was weakness. Or pride. Or some moral high horse bullshit.” He huffed out a humorless laugh, shaking his head, taking another bite of pizza before throwing the piece back into the box.
Chewing meticulously as he stared out into the city. “But being away—running with the Outlaws—it gave me perspective. Distance does that. Let's you look at things cleaner, I guess.”
He stayed quiet, letting Jason search for the right words.
“Bruce has an addictive personality. You’ve seen it. He collects strays like trophies, runs himself into the ground chasing cases, sleeps maybe four hours a week if he’s feeling generous. When he throws himself at something, he doesn’t just do it—he drowns in it. That’s who he is.”
Jason’s jaw tightened as Dick continued to watch him, watching the skyline.
“So when he told me he ‘couldn’t’ kill Joker… it took me a long damn time, but I finally get it. It wasn’t about mercy. Or forgiveness. It’s that once he does it – once he crosses that line and sees there’s no cosmic punishment, no instant karma – what’s stopping him from just killing every rogue in Gotham the next time they screw up?”
“Like Nygma, he just wants us to solve his stupid riddles every now and again. The only time he sets up one of his death traps is when no one plays with him in Arkham for a while. It's like… autism. But he picked riddles instead of dinosaurs, or the ocean, or space. Doesn’t mean he deserves a bullet. He just wants someone to solve his riddles. They’re fun for him”
“Point is, Bruce doesn’t do half-measures. If he started, he wouldn’t stop.”
Dick tilted his head, studying him for a long moment. Then he gave a soft little whistle as the looked out to the skyline with his younger brother.
“Damn,” he said. “That’s… actually a really good point.” A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had never told Jay about when he had tried to kill the Joker. Hell, Jason probably didn’t even know about his own body count from when he was Slade's apprentice and the whole Spyral thing. “Careful, Jay. You keep talking like that and people are gonna start mistaking you for Bruce,” he joked.
Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” he asked as he flopped onto his back, staring up at the perpetual smog that polluted their skies.
Dick laughed, but it wasn’t mean. “What can I say? I’m your big brother, I’m supposed to bully you.”
Jason shot him a glare, but there wasn’t much heat behind it.
For all his scowling, Dick thought, Jason had never sounded more like Bruce in his life.