Chapter Text
Jason's comms beeped in his ear, Oracle's gentle way of pressing on his do-not-disturb protocols.
She wouldn't ask if it wasn't important, so Jason carefully extracted himself from his surveillance position in the rafters above a gang meetup just off the edge of his territories in Burnley, and retreated to the roof to answer.
"What's up, O?"
"Hood," B said, and then there was a long silence.
"B?" Jason finally prompted.
"Sending you a location," B said after a moment. "Get here. N is." And then the motherfucker stopped again.
"N is what?" Jason snarled. He was already running south, because Dick had been patrolling the Upper West Side with Red Robin tonight.
"Compromised," B said after a moment. Then, wonder of wonder, more info: "Scarecrow."
Jason's heart pounded. Fear toxin sucked ass. "On my way," he said, in a moment his boots were on a rooftop. Then he was flying again, headed towards the blip on his heads-up display.
Dick, terrifyingly, was standing perfectly still. Which would have been bad enough, except that he was doing it on the railing around the observation deck of a skyscraper, much, much too far from the ground.
Tim was crouched on a lower rooftop across the street, clearly poised to leap for him if he fell. Or jumped.
Bruce was on the observation deck, standing helplessly fifteen feet from Nightwing's boots.
Jason landed near Bruce. "B," he said quietly.
Bruce shook his head. "Non-responsive," he said quietly.
Dick's whiteouts were down, but his chin was tipped towards the long drop. His fists were clenched tightly in his gauntlets.
Jason sidled closer. "Hey Pretty Bird," he said gently, taking off his helmet and setting it on a table as he passed.
Dick sighed softly, but didn't move, and didn't answer. There was a fine tremor in his arms, resonating down from his tense shoulders.
"Can you hear me?" Jason asked.
The railing beneath Dick was chest-high on Jason, but only made of a two-inch thick strip of cast-iron. Nightwing's boots were textured for grip, but that would hardly help on the slick railing. "Yeah," he said after a moment.
Jason exhaled in relief. "You tracking?" he asked.
Dick hummed, still stock-still on the railing. "Hallucinating," he said after a moment. "Only about seventy percent you're real."
"And if I'm not?" Jason asked warily.
Dick shrugged, intentionally loosening his shoulders and fists. "You'll probably liquefy into a horrible monster. Or fall," he added in a whisper.
Jason winced. It was worth repeating: Fear toxin sucked ass. "And if I am real?"
"You want me to get down," Dick replied immediately.
"And?" Jason prompted.
"I am not actually certain which direction is the deck and which is the drop," Dick said.
Jason closed his eyes. "Pretty Bird," he pleaded.
Dick said, "So I thought I might stand here and see if it's going to wear off."
Half life of most fear toxin strands trended towards about six hours. "You can't stand here that long."
"I've always been a weird case," Dick said. "Most of Crane's stuff only sort of works on me," he said. "And the ones that have worked have. Been odd," he finally decided. "I wonder if you not knowing that is a point for your unreality, or if you just never had a reason to know that."
"B never told me," Jason said. "And we've never worked a Crane case together."
Dick hummed. "That sounds right," he said slowly. "But also. I'd hate to be wrong."
"You are really lucid," Jason said, because it was both incredibly notable and entirely contrary to every experience Jason had ever had with fear toxin, as the victim or the witness. "Except the unreality bits."
Dick shrugged, and Jason bit down his instinctive flinch about the potential drop. "Weird case," he repeated. "Crane hates me."
"That's true," Bruce said quietly from afar.
"If I touch you, will you flinch?" Jason asked.
Dick grimaced. "I don't think so?" he said. "But I'm also still not sure you're real, and if you actually touch me, and." He broke off, shrugging again. "I don't think so," he repeated quietly.
Jason didn't need Bruce's hiss to know it wasn't worth the risk. "What are you afraid of?" he asked.
Dick didn't answer for a long moment. For a frozen series of heartbeats, he stood in that gut-wrenching tableaux, silhouetted against the skyline, poised and graceful and terrifying. Then he said, "Losing everyone again."
"Do you trust me, Pretty Bird?" Jason asked.
Dick still hadn't turned his whiteout lenses away from the drop. "Yes," he said promptly. "If you're actually you, and not Crane, or a hallucination." After a beat, he said, "I trust the Red Hood."
Jason sighed. Then he looked at the heavy, cast-iron chairs that scattered across the deck. "Just keep standing still, bluebird," he said.
Dick huffed. "Not planning on moving," he promised.
Jason went to drag over one of the chairs.
"Hood," B said quietly.
"Trust me," Jason replied.
"I'm trying," Dick answered, even though Jason hadn't actually been talking to him. "Troia says I'm a control freak."
The chair put Jason's arms level with Dick's thighs, and Jason looked up his partner's body at his bowed head. "You catch us all, Pretty Bird," he said. "Let us catch you for once."
"I can't," Dick whispered. "I have to catch-" he choked. "I have to. No one can fall again."
"That includes you," Jason said quietly. Then he ignored B's alarmed yelp, and swept Dick off the railing and into his arms. "We won't let you fall either."
Dick choked a gasp, spasmed in Jason's arms in an aborted flinch, and then melted into Jason's embrace. He wrapped his arms around Jason's neck, and hid his face in the collar of Jason's jacket.
"I gotcha," Jason promised. "I gotcha, Pretty Bird."
"Hood's got him," B reported, to Oracle and the kids, waiting on comms.
Dick clung to him, shaking. "Fuck Jonathan Crane," he wheezed.
"Seriously," Jason agreed, kissing Dick's hair. "You got an antidote?" he asked B.
"Won't work," Dick muttered into his shoulder. "New strain."
"Might ease some effects," Bruce said quietly, stroking Dick's back tenderly.
Dick grunted, shifting his head to give Bruce the slope of his neck.
Bruce pressed the injector to Dick's neck and triggered it.
Dick sighed into Jason's shoulder, nuzzling closer.
Jason nuzzled him back, breathing in the sweat from his hair and the reassuring solidity of his body. Dick's heart fluttered, hummingbird fast, under Jason's hands. "Can we sedate you?" he asked. "Would that help?"
Dick shook his head. "Makes it worse," he said, muffled.
Jason looked at Bruce.
Bruce shrugged. 'Nightmares,' B mouthed.
"I'm okay," Dick muttered into his neck, shifting to kiss Jason's pulse. "You're real, and I trust you."
"I'm not letting go," Jason promised. He kissed Dick's temple.
B picked up Jason's helmet. "Batmobile's in the alley below, and O's called us the elevator."
Jason flashed his teeth. "Love an electronic lock," he said.
"Hn," Bruce agreed. He led the way.
Jason squeezed Dick tighter, kissed his hair once more, and said, "Let's get you home, Pretty Bird."
Dick sighed in contentment, easing into Jason's arms. "Caught me," he said.
"Always," Jason promised.