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The day was dim and dusty when the lithe figure slipped off the train at a remote location. They were not the only one to slip off but they were one of a few.
The figure, wearing linen clothes with a Middle Eastern design and a cap and carrying a duffel bag, stopped near the station schedule, the only real structure on the platform, and consulted a map. Glancing at the schedule and the map, the figure oriented themself beside the railway and dirt road and traced their finger along the paper. Clearly. they were plotting a route to their destination.
They casually looked over their surroundings. It was clearly a subtle way to check people and places and catalog any potential dangers.
Trained. And trained well. But not well enough.
His contact had been accurate so far. Hopefully, this accuracy would continue.
The lithe figure made their way from the station and onto the dirt road. Shoulders back and confidence falsely shown, they walked surely down the street away from where the other travelers had gone.
Footsteps near silent, the figure, his target, traveled minutes down the road and around a bend.
From his position, he could see the other side of the bend as well. Careful to keep his eye moving such that the figure would not feel his gaze upon them, he followed carefully a good distance behind, matching footsteps to the best of his ability.
As the two traveled and he remained careful to keep said gaze from lingering where it might be felt, some of the tension left the figure's shoulders. They paused to take a break and slipped a water bottle from the duffel bag.
Slade Wilson, also known as Deathstroke the Terminator, aimed and fired thrice.
By instinct, and it must have been instinct for the figure was still working to close the bag, the first dart was dodged. The second hit the bag but the third embedded in the figure's shoulder.
The bag dropped to the ground and the figure sank into a defensive pose, one hand grabbing for the dart while the other pulled a shuriken out of seemingly nowhere.
Eyes passed across the clearing quickly, searching for the perpetrator, and then slowed to scan more thoroughly.
Deathstroke cocked the gun to change the rounds, aimed, and fired thrice more. Once towards their neck, and once to the right and left, each direction he predicted they may dodge. To Deathstroke's surprise, the figure instead jumped and flipped over the projectiles and darted forward towards Slade. The move was familiar and unexpected. But the figure was too short. He'd seen the little bird only a short few weeks ago. Unless the little bird had been hit by a de-aging spell, and kidnapped by the Al Ghuls, this could not be him.
Another cock of the gun had his final load of darts prepared as the figure drew near. This time, Slade aimed where he would for his little bird. Two of the darts struck true, but the figure kept coming, soldiering through and leaping towards Slade who was quick to unsheathe a dagger. A twist mid-air allowed a dodge, but the figure had made a mistake. Not their first in this encounter, but a major one none the less. The dodge was not as graceful, not as smooth as the little bird and Slade's move with his dagger was precise, slicing the figure's skin on their cheek not far from their right eye.
A nudge to multiple specific points and the still present darts led to the figure, who Slade could now posit was a young man with dark hair, to fumble his own dagger in his right hand. It took very little time for Slade to pin the man. He was clearly trained well and gave a good fight.
But he wasn't Slade's Little Bird and the eel tactics were similar enough to be countered by the same countermoves. Even the League moves thrown in were ones Slade knew and knew well.
With the sedatives in the darts finally kicking in, the struggles to escape Slade's pin became more desperate and less precise. He held firm and soon the strength leached out of lanky limbs.
Of course, unwilling to just let Slade win, the young man, who seemed even younger now that Slade was pinning him down and the hat had fully slipped from his head, opened his mouth and bit down hard on one of Slade's arms. A reflexive spasm loosened Slade's grip on that wrist and the kid, for he was certainly not fully grown, yanked it free, curled his fingers, and tried to claw Slade's good eye with numb fingers. A simple shift of Slade's weight and the face was out of reach. Not that the kid would have been able to put much force into it at this point. A last hurrah, it seemed. The next second saw the sedatives at last, finally, finish kicking in.
Slade held the pin for a minute more to be sure and then slowly removed his unharmed hand from the kid's wrist. He used that hand to unhinge the boy's jaw enough to get his arm free. Not leaving anything to chance, as he knew the Al Ghuls did poison training to develop an immunity or at least resistance and he wasn't sure what stage this kid was at, Slade reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a pair of hand cuffs. He snapped one around the kid's wrist, pulled it to the other wrist, and snapped that one closed too. It wouldn't take long to get out of but would give him enough time to get better restraints on now.
Remembering the acrobatics, he pulled out a second set of cuffs and secured those around the kid's ankles. Slade got to his feet with a big stretch. He looked down at his defeated foe. The kid, definitely teen-aged at the oldest, looked remarkably familiar. He couldn't quite place him but something about the kid was pinging his senses. Dark unruly curls. Freckles. Some facial scars. A tuft of white over the forehead…
Yeah. This was going to bother him. But! It could wait.
Shaking the thoughts from his head, Slade reached down and hefted the kid over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. He reached into yet another pouch and withdrew a prepared syringe. He used his teeth to remove the cap, and shifted the kid to get access to bare skin. He hoped the dosage wasn't too high or too low. He'd put a lot of work into this contract. A minute later and the lurid liquid, specially prepared by another contact to combat the effects of the Lazarus Pit, was injected into the kid's muscle and the used needle was tucked away.
Slade began the hike towards where he'd hidden his car. The train was known to run late to this part of town, but he shouldn't dally. Unlikely as it was, someone might have heard the commotion and called in someone to investigate.
Slade sat in the location he'd chosen for this job. He'd already sent proof to his employer of his successful acquisition of the Al Ghul kid. The agreed upon payment for this portion of the contract had been paid in full and the contractor had said to wait for his word on next steps. He was to hold the kid until then.
So, Slade had the kid tied to a chair, blindfolded with Bluetooth noise cancelling headphones on. The blindfold just made him seem more familiar. Slade had an IV set up with more of the anti-Lazarus liquid and some saline. It wouldn't undo any past healing the waters had already completed, but it would counter the enhancements the waters could give and slow down the sedative wearing off.
Speaking of, it was about that time. Slade sat himself across from the kid and waited, feet firmly on the ground and arms crossed. After a few minutes of waiting, the kid stiffened, then tried to relax. Slade uncrossed his arms and held a mic to his mouth. He clicked a button.
"I know you're awake, kid." He let go of the button with another satisfying click. The words were translated to Arabic and fed through the headphones. It wouldn't be the League Dialect but it would be close enough.
The kid startled and clearly bit back what he was about to say before starting again in the same language.
"Who are you? Where am I?"
"That is none of your concern, Al Ghul."
The kid was stiffly silent for a moment, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. His wrists flexed in the tight bindings around each arm, but this wasn't Slade's first time kidnapping someone. The ropes were tied tightly.
"What do you want?" The words would have been spat, but the kid was clearly self-translating.
"Nothing now," Slade replied. "I will return."
"I will return." The kid muttered in Arabic. Slade didn't move, waiting to see what the kid did when he thought he was alone.
5 minutes passed before the kid seemed to decide he was indeed alone. In English, the kid grumbled. In English, the kid repeated. "I will return. What is this guy? The Terminator? He might as well have said 'I'll be back,' Fucking ass." He shifted obviously in his seat, wiggling not unlike the Little Bird. Slade wasn't sure why this kid reminded him so much of Little Bird, but the resemblance in manner and training was startling.
Also, that was absolutely a Gotham Accent.
Huh. This Al Ghul kid was growing more interesting by the minute.
The kid, Little Bird Junior?, twisted his upper body and used the chair to dislodge the noise-cancelling headphones. A shake of the head got them further off, and more nudging, cursing, and head shaking saw them dropping onto his lap. Once they were fully off, the kid quieted to listen. There was a flicker of unease.
"Oh shit. You're still here, aren't cha?"
Slade didn't bother with the translator since it had A. Been removed and B. this kid's main language was clearly English.
"You're from Gotham," He observed.
The kid's shoulders rose in a tell.
"What's it to ya?"
Slade reached forward and grabbed a fistful of the kid's curly hair. He jerked the reflexively struggling kid to face Slade and took a moment to really study the child once more. The familiarity finally clicked into place. It was obvious, really. He was ashamed it took him so long.
"You're the Second Robin. The dead one."
The kid stilled in a clearly trained attempt to hide a flinch. Slade could see it now. Slade hummed, grabbed the headphones with his free hand, let go of the bird boy's hair and fit the headphones back on his head.
"Hey!" Robin shouted. What was his real name? Jared? Josh? Nightwing always called him various nicknames, with Little Wing the most popular but he was sure he'd heard a J at some point in his stalking. He'd double check. After re-securing Robin 2.0, he had some research to do.
Jason fumed. His captor, whoever they were, had taped the noise cancelling headphones to his head. Jason had gotten the sense of being in a small room and also a bit of familiarity from his captor.
How did the guy even recognize him? He was fucking dead! He also called Jason "Al Ghul" which indicated this was a League of Assassins matter. Damn Talia for putting him in this situation.
Trying to wriggle free of his bindings wasn't working either. After securing the headphones, his captor had moved away and returned with more rope. Clearly, the Robin reputation included escape artistry. Probably DickWing's fault. None of the tricks his so-called brother had taught or shown him worked to get Jason free. Jason could tell he'd been searched for weapons too. And possibly changed.
If this was Talia's new idea of training, Jason was very much failing.
There was a click in his right ear breaking through the silence.
"Did you actually die or just fake it?" It was in English this time, followed by another click.
"Fuck you." Jason hoped his statement had come out loud and clear. It certainly sounded that way to his ears.
Click. "How nice. That butler of yours must be so proud of your language." Click.
Jason held up a middle finger.
Click. "And this is the one Batman wanted? Pathetic." Click.
Jason scoffed. "As if. Piece of shit couldn't be bother to avenge me and replaced me in like a month with a better model."
There was no response.
"What? Catwoman got your tongue? Got a problem?"
Click More Pointed Silence Click
"Rude."
Jason fidgeted best he could. Five minutes went by per his best estimate. Ten minutes. Fifteen.
Click (Finally!) "I cannot begin to express how wrong that entire statement is. But I also do not care. Batman is a piece of shit, so I don't disagree with the sentiment." Click
Click "Your brother got back two months after you died. Why go to the Al Ghuls? Why not the Titans?" Click
Jason took a deep breath to start on a tirade and then paused. He didn't feel a real desire to. Strange. And what did his captor mean by all that? Dick was just being his usual self when Jason died. He didn't really care for Jason, preferring the new model. He didn't even go to Jason's funeral… Got back from where? He shook his head to shake the thought loose.
"What brother?"
Click. "The first birdboy." Click.
"You don't have who you think you have," Jason replied calmly. "I don't have a brother."
Click. "Sure, kid." Click.
"I'm telling ya. I don't got no brother. I don't know who you think you are or who you think I am, but clearly you're a loser with terrible vision. I bet if I could see, I could kick your ass, no challenge." Jason bluffed. He actually couldn't remember much of anything about who grabbed him. Everything after he left the rural train platform was blurry. He could feel bruises in various places, so he knew he put up some sort of fight, but he wasn't sure how much good it had done him. He'd clearly been searched and divested of weapons, as well as had his clothes changed from League garb before he'd woken up. Jason couldn't have been out that long though.
They must have gotten the drop on him. Jason was even better trained than before his little dip in the pits.
Jason realized he hadn't heard from his captor in a few minutes. He scoffed.
"What? Scared of getting beat up by a teenager? I bet you're so hideous your own mother wouldn't want to kiss you."
Still no response. Jason was a little worried his insults weren't hitting.
"Doth mother know thy wearest her drapes? I'd flick my thumb at you but I'm a little tied up right now."
Still nothing. Man, this guy was good.
"From all I can see, you have no conversation, no style, no taste." Jason quoted. "Your locked chest and your rusty key! Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."
A hand grasped Jason's hair again briefly and yanked his head back. "The dreadful black veil! A mysterious manu-mmph" A balled up cloth shoved into Jason's mouth interrupted the next quoted insult.
"'ey!" Jason managed, as the cloth was tied in place with a rope around his head. "Fmph oo!" That try was muffled as the rope was pulled tight. He bit down and stewed in the inability to continue insulting his captor. What was he supposed to do with all this sudden free time? He focused on getting some ropes untied again. Maybe he'd even succeed!
Slade waited slightly impatiently for the phone to stop ringing. This was his third time calling the number to no avail. He was about ready to give up and try Joey instead when the call picked up.
His employer had called to tell him the Al Ghuls weren't taking the bait, even with photographic evidence. Apparently, they just didn't care that much about the second little bird, and figured he could get himself out of his own mess. So, Slade was ordered to disappear the boy.
Honestly, Deathstroke could have told the employer that the Al Ghuls wouldn't pay to rescue one of their own. That place was a dog eat dog cult. They'd probably expect a four year old to get themself free from kidnappers, and consider it training.
Still, even with the kid's smart mouth, Slade didn't believe killing him was the best option. Certainly, it would be more trouble than it was worth if the Bats ever found out. Slade certainly wasn't going to keep him, much less for long enough for the heat to die down on 2.0. Ransoming him to Batman was certainly an option, but Slade would rather kill the kid than liaise with the Bat. Luckily, a better choice existed.
"Hello," the voice on the other end of the line finally answered, wariness clear.
"Little Bird," Slade greeted.
"Oh great. He has my number now. What do you want?" Nightwing grumbled, wariness immediately disappearing once he recognized Slade.
"To make a deal. I've come across something I know you want. And I want a favor and you out of my way for a while."
The little bird was silent as he digested that.
"What could you possibly have that you think I want?" He posed eventually.
"That would be part of the deal. The information."
"I see. What exactly do you want me to do?"
"I want you to take what I have and disappear somewhere very remote. Go on vacation or something for all I care. But it needs to be somewhere you won't be seen for at least a month. In exchange for that and a favor I can call upon in the future, you get what I have which you very much want.
"And what would you be doing while I'm gone?"
"Taking care of some Gotham business."
Little Bird sucked in a deep breath. "On what Earth do you-"
Slade cut him off. "Part of the deal can be my word that I won't attack any Junior vigilantes in the city and will only fight them if they try to stop me. I won't seriously hurt them and will go for minimal damage."
"And Batman?"
"I won't kill him." That was the best Nightwing would get out of him.
Another thoughtful pause. Slade knew that Nightwing knew that Slade would keep his word. They had enough encounters and been on opposite sides enough for that to become clear.
"I can't just up and leave for a month. I have responsibilities in Blüdhaven."
"Take sick leave."
"That would only cover work and I'd need proof I wasn't just skipping out."
"Have your little Titans buddies cover the city. I don't care. Figure something out. I can shoot out your knee if that would help. Hell, go to Space. You just need to take what I have and disappear for a month without being found."
"And if there's an emergency?"
"If the world's ending, I'm sure you'll know it. Stay away from the Bat."
"I don't know. I can't commit to something like this without know what you're offering."
Slade poked his head into the room where he was monitoring Little Bird Junior.
"How about this? You meet me at Karu and Kopli tonight at 10 pm EET. You bring one, and only one, of your Titans buddies, and something to test biometrics against your system without anything being flagged. I'll bring the thing I'm sure you very much want. If you agree, you owe me a favor and the rest of the deal can be set. You take it and leave immediately and agree to not inform nor have one of your buddies inform the Bat. If you disagree, if it's not something you want, we'll come up with a new deal. That gives you 7 hours to make arrangements for if you agree and decide. Can you commit to that?"
After a moment, Nightwing replied. "I can commit to that."
"Good," Slade said. "Remember. No informing the Bat or anyone who would inform him for you. One and only one Titans buddy. Meet at Karu and Kopli at 10 pm local time."
Slade hung up before Nightwing could change his mind.
Now, how was he to get the smart-mouthed brat there without alerting anyone?
"This the place?" Donna asked her Wonder Twin as they crouched on a low roof near an alleyway.
"This is where he told me."
"Almost time."
"Yeah."
They looked down into the alley and saw Deathstroke. He wasn't in full armor, but was wearing his iconic colors. Must have arrived while they were scanning their surroundings.
After exchanging a glance that held a reminder of their plan, Dick took a deep breath and let it out. He grabbed the edge of the roof and flipped and twisted down to the ground, landing lightly near Deathstroke. Deathstroke turned to meet him, looked up to pinpoint Donna, and gave his attention back to Dick.
Donna's comm buzzed, giving her good audio of Dick's side of the conversation and decent audio of Deathstroke's.
Dick pointedly looked around Deathstroke with a brow raised before rocking back on his feet to meet the taller man's eye. "What is this about?" He asked.
"It's related to the League."
"The Justice League?"
"No, the other League."
"Alright. Not a fan. What does this have to do with me?"
"You brought something to test biometrics?"
"Yeah, and before you ask, no, it won't alert anyone."
"Good. Saliva and some blood. It's fresh. Test it." He held out two test tubes with substances on a Q-Tip in each.
Dick warily took the samples. With Slade watching, he pulled out his tester, and popped the first open to test. Dick tested the blood first, as it was usually more accurate. There was an awkward five minutes as the test did its work. Donna kept careful watch for any tricks or approaching threats.
Finally, the first test completed and Dick checked the results. He sucked in a sharp breath, stared at the results, and then scrambled to check the saliva as well. Saliva broke down faster.
"I imagine you'll want to run more extensive tests later, but would you agree this is something you very much want?" Slade said, not bothering to wait for the second test to complete.
Dick looked up at him and glared, even as his skin was blanched white.
"If this is a trick…"
"It's not." Slade interrupted. "And he needs to fully disappear for at least a month. He's got a hit on him."
"You took it?" Dick asked, sounding outraged.
"I took a contract to kidnap the Al Ghul member going to train with a surveillance master. Took me a bit to put it together. As you know, he's supposedly dead."
Donna could hear Dick grit his teeth. The second test binged complete, taking far less time as it only had to compare against one profile. Dick glanced at it and then straightened.
"Where is he?"
"I'll take you to him after you agree to my terms. One month minimum. Somewhere you won't be found. No telling the Bat about this. One favor owed."
Dick clenched his fists, like he was about to yell, but forced himself calm.
"One month. I'll tell Baby Bird I'm going undercover and work that I re-injured my knee. I won't inform Batman. No hurting any vigilantes in Gotham. No killing Batman and I won't kill for you to fulfill that favor. I'll go to Space or somewhere safe on the planet with… with him, if he's not a clone or trick!"
Slade was silent for a moment.
"I won't hurt the junior vigilantes if they don't get in my way and no serious injuries and I won't kill Batman. If killing is out, then it becomes two favors. And your Titans buddy doesn't fill anyone in either."
Dick took in another sharp breath, but force a nod. "Troia," he said into the comms.
"Who does he have?" Donna asked immediately.
"Supposedly, my younger brother."
"Robin? I thought he was in Gotham with Batman."
"No, well yes, but no. My other younger brother."
It clicked. Jason. They were talking about Jason. The second Robin and Dick's first little brother.
"Are you sure? J- your first little brother is dead. He died while we were in Space."
Dick was quiet. "I never saw the body. B buried him before we got back. It's possible. The biometrics match."
"… I'll follow." Donna decided.
"And keep it quiet?"
"I'll inform the team that you needed to go undercover and Flash that you're on emergency-only contact, but are safe. You know we don't talk to Batman and I won't tell anyone else. But, I want a check-in message at least once a week. It can just be a brief 'we're alive,' but I want confirmation."
Dick met Deathstroke's eye. "That works for me. How about for you, Deathstroke?"
Deathstroke grunted. "Deal."
"Deal. Now, where is he?"
Deathstroke turned and strolled out of the alley. Dick followed him and Donna trailed them by roof. They walked two blocks to a decrepit parking structure, then down to the bottom level and over to a gray Camry. Deathstroke popped the trunk and gestured inside.
Donna couldn't see into the trunk from where she was still 20 feet away, close enough to jump in if needed but far enough if this turned out to be a trap. It didn't look like it would, but better safe than dead or kidnapped. Dick made a choked up sound and reached down.
Deathstroke helped pull the tied up kid from the trunk and untie him. Donna could see glimpses of him, but Jason, hopefully actually Jason, seemed to be unconscious. It took about ten minutes for Dick to be satisfied, best he could with the ongoing unconsciousness, that Jason was indeed Jason. Deathstroke stiffened when Dick threw the arm not holding his little brother around the taller man and sincerely thanked him.
"Remember. One month. No Bat." The mercenary said. He slammed the trunk shut. All the cut restraints except the blindfold were in there, and the blindfold would only stay until Dick either procured a domino mask for Jason or they got somewhere identity safe. Dick gestured Donna over and she helped him get the lanky teen onto Dick's back.
The teenager had grown quite a bit since Donna saw him last, finally passing 5 foot with at least another half foot on top of that and rapidly approaching his brother's height. He was no longer the precious shrimp she remembered. It made the piggyback ride awkward but workable.
With another grateful smile to Deathstroke from Dick, and Donna's own terse nod, the three left.
When Jason woke up, his mouth and skin felt clammy. The air was more humid than when he last remembered. He tensed, but a quick check over his body revealed he wasn't any more hurt. Surprisingly, he wasn't tied up either and he didn't feel like his clothes had been changed again. Clearly, his captor had knocked him out again, he could taste it, but how long had he been out and had he slept after the drugs wore off?
He was in a bed. That was its own worry.
Cautiously, Jason cracked open his eyes. He was met with a cracked ceiling above his head with a couple stains evident. Minimal eye movement let him look around and see there was no one on the pillows next to him and he's absolutely been tucked in. There was another bed next to him, undisturbed.
Strange.
Jason slowly opened his eyes the rest of the way and looked around more. He was in a motel room, on the one of two beds closer to the wall. There were the basic amenities: TV, pillows, blanket, a mini fridge, some cups, a coffeemaker, and, it turns out, a duffel bag on the other bed.
There was a beep at the motel room door. Jason's eyes snapped shut and he pretended to still be sleeping. The door opened with some struggle.
"I got it," a male voice said. A lump settled in Jason's gut. That voice sounded familiar, too familiar.
A lilting laugh followed. "Sure you do, boy wonder. He is elegance. He is grace."
"Shut up," The first one interrupted the second.
There was a rustle of bags and two set of footsteps, both near silence, trained, graceful. A bag crinkled.
"I hope he wakes up soon. These will cool off fast." The guy said.
"Those are disgusting. I can't believe you like those."
"I eat Kori's food. These are at least Earth food."
"And I question your sanity every time."
A light laugh from the guy. "They're Jay's favorite. What says 'Welcome back to the land of the living! Did you actually die or did B massively fuck up while I was gone and then lie to me about it to cover it up?' like chili dogs."
The higher voice, likely female, snorted. "Do not say that to him, Dick. Doesn't he actually like Ba-your mentor?"
"You have got to be fucking kidding me."
The room went quiet, and it took a moment for Jason to realize he'd been the one to speak. He sighed and opened his eyes.
"Jason! You're awake." Dick, because of course it was Dickhead, cried. There was a thump as he ran into Donna's arm. Right. That explained the whole boy wonder comment. Jason wondered if they still considered each other wonder twins.
"Hug consent," Donna said.
Dick stopped, something flashing across his face and then gone. He looked at Jason pleadingly. Jason waited for the pit to flare up in anger at his brother, but it didn't. Begrudgingly, he pushed himself to a seated position and gave a nod.
That's all Dickface needed. Jason was immediately wrapped in a hug and squeezed tight. It was weirdly different than he remembered, but also the exact same. Jason awkwardly patted Dick's back with one hand and looked over to Donna for an explanation.
Dressed in civvies, Donna was smiling gently at them. She winked at Jason and went to grab the bags Dick had dropped. Clearly, he'd need to be more proactive about his search for answers.
"How'd you find me?" Jason asked.
"We didn't," Donna told him. Dick tightened his hug. "Deathstroke did."
Jason cringed. "Oh. Eww."
A pause. Dick pulled back to see Jason's face. "What do you mean, eww?"
"You two have some weird relationship. How'd he find me?"
Dick was clearly trying to come up with a retort to the first part so Donna answered. "Apparently, he took a contract to capture 'the Al Ghul member going to train with a surveillance master.' He recognized you at some point. And called Dick when he was told to disappear you."
"…What?!?"
"Yeah. We were pretty grateful he decided to dump you on Dick instead of into the ocean."
Dick made an offended noise.
"Anyways, Deathstroke gave you to us in exchange for you and Dick skedaddling for a month and a couple favors, so…" She pulled a shirt out of one of the bags and tossed it at him followed by some cargo pants and a pack of underwear. A hoodie came next but was just dropped on the bed for after he changed. "Dick, let go of Jason so he can go change."
Reluctantly, the octopus unwound the rest of the way.
"I'm so happy you're alive, Little Wing," He whispered before letting go.
Well, that was a lot of feeling for a… whatever today was. Wait, was there a mention of chili dogs earlier? Jason smelt something tasty.
"We got you chili dogs if you want to eat before changing," Donna provided.
Jason looked at her, looked at the chili dogs, looked at Dick, gave a theatrical sigh, and took one to eat.
The first bite was like heaven and before he knew it he'd chewed and swallowed all three. Donna had a brow raised and big brother looked like he was about to cry again.
"Quit looking at me like that," Jason snapped.
An actual whine came out of Dick's mouth as he tried to make words work again. Jason gave him his flattest face while Donna rolled her eyes. She patted Dick on the back. She asked Jason. "Are you going to stay if I leave you two alone together?"
Jason went to deny but glanced at his brother, and grumpily nodded instead. Donna nodded back solemnly.
"Remember, weekly check ins at absolute minimum. You miss one, we're hunting you down." Donna told Dick.
Donna stepped over to Jason and gave him her own hug. "Glad you're alive, squirt. We all missed you."
Then, Donna left. Through the door. Like a civilian.
Dick say down on the free bed, eyes still drinking in Jason. Jason squirmed and shoved the last bite into his mouth. He got up and fled to the bathroom with the clothes Donna had tossed him. Once there, and finally away from Dick's puppy dog eyes, Jason allowed himself to take some deep breaths and really process.
Someone had put a hit on him in his League of Assassins capacity. Deathstroke took the contract. The Al Ghuls, of course, didn't pay whatever the ransom was. Unsurprising. Deathstroke's employer told him to make Jason disappear. And, likely in anticipation of extorting a future favor from Dick, Deathstroke decided to make a deal with Nightwing instead of just killing Jason.
When Jason finally felt up to leaving the bathroom, having taken the time to shower and change into the new clothes, as well as finish processing the basics, he found Dick had drawn the curtains and turned a light on. He was organizing files in some order that likely made perfect sense to the elder.
Dick looked up as Jason exited and managed a smile, even as he worked to wipe the grief off his face. Jason scoffed and crossed his arms. Donna had chosen well. The hoodie that sat on the edge of 'his' bed was even Jason's preferred shade of red. Dick managed to clear his throat and spoke.
"So, we need to go to ground for a month. I wanted your opinion before choosing a route. So, here are some options." He gestured to the folders spread out across the bedspread.
"Option A. Space Mission. Weird readings on the planet leading off planet we can follow. Looks like the signal is contacting one of the other inhabited planets, but we're not sure why. I'd have to borrow a spaceship from somewhere, but Donna said she could convince the rest of the Titans to just lend that one.
"Option B. Private Island in the Caribbean or Jet Setting in the Southern Hemisphere. Counting it as one option since they're the same gist. We could easily spend a month or longer in Australia or New Zealand, just wandering. I already pulled out Traveler's Checks so won't have to touch my accounts. B has next to no presence there, so it could be an actual vacation if you'd like. Or we can search for trouble to root out. Your choice.
"Option C. I've got a crime ring I've been planning to look into. It has the advantage of being what I told people I'd be doing while the disadvantage of the highest probability of running into one or both Leagues.
"Option D. Tamaran. Kori's out there and might be willing to have someone pick us up. Disadvantage is it would be potentially super awkward as we're not together anymore and I think she's got a fiancé too. I speak enough Tamaranean to get by but I don't think you do? Advantage is it's another Solar System.
"So, what do you think?"
And, well, Jason was tired. The last couple years had been a lot, even if he'd been dead and then comatose for a good portion of them. He considered the options presented and chose the one that sounded best to him.