Work Text:
Clearing the Rubble
The explosion nearly knocks Dick off his feet. He staggers, his bad knee twinging, and falls into the side of a dumpster. Grunting, Dick scrabbles to grab hold of the dumpster edge, so he doesn’t end up on the ground. He hangs there for a few moments while he gets his feet back under him, cursing under his breath. This is the last thing he wanted to happen tonight. He’d known that Bruce and Jason’s eventual confrontation would be far from calm, but he had hoped they’d both survive.
Dick knows the direction of the explosion without even looking. Crime Alley. Back where it all started. Back where Jason had first entered their lives. And now where Dick is certain something terrible just happened.
Sending up a quick prayer that everyone he cares about is still among the living, Dick shoves himself away from the dumpster and hurries the last few blocks that separate him from whatever destruction Jason has created. After what he saw on the news only a short while ago, Dick fears what he’ll find. Jason had already endured so much—more than Dick can even conceive—and it’s all too likely that Bruce has only made it worse. Because Bruce will never give Jason what he wants. What he deserves. Batman will never kill the Joker even though he’d deserved death long before that horrible night in Sarajevo when the madman tore Jason from them.
“Please, Little Wing.”
In that moment, he’s not entirely sure what he’s praying for. For Jason to not have taken his rage out on Bruce as well as the Joker. For Bruce to not have forced Jason’s hand, or worse, hurt him more than he already has. Jason should be allowed his vengeance, and if the man he grew to love as a father won’t destroy the monster who killed him.... Dick can’t even begin to imagine the pain that would cause. Combined with all that anger Jason was never able to completely hide when he’d been a teenager....
Dick stops dead when he reaches the end of the alley, staring across the street at the destruction Jason has wrought. The sound of the explosion should have given him a hint of what was waiting for him. The top half of the building’s north side is gone, blown apart by the bomb. Before Dick can even gather breath to shout for Bruce or Jason, he sees movement.
Batman. Dragging the Joker from the rubble.
“Bruce, no....”
Ignoring his mentor and the sound of distant sirens, Dick hurries across the street towards the blown out apartment block. He scans the surrounding buildings, looking for any sign of Jason. There’s not so much as a flicker of movement on the rooftops. Not even the trailing ends of any lines. Jason hasn’t gone up.
The clatter of falling concrete along the building’s east side draws Dick’s attention. A secondary thump sounds completely different. It’s the sound of a body contacting hard with the pavement.
Dick alters his course, sprinting into the alley he’s fairly sure Jason just crashed into. Dust is still settling and Dick presses the back of his wrist over his mouth and nose before he begins his careful climb over broken bits of masonry. He scans the debris, looking for any sign of his little brother.
Even with all the noise, a quiet grunt is enough to catch his attention.
“Jason.”
Dick stumbles over the large pieces of concrete and brick as he hurries to Jason’s side, nearly falling more than once as his usual dexterity falls by the wayside in his haste. Jason’s lying half on top of an upended garbage can, legs higher than his head. Dick’s eyes rake over the other man, searching out any signs of injury. Jason’s right arm is twisted under his body at an uncomfortable angle and a dark stain is spreading over his left shoulder, seeping through the gray Kevlar body armor. There are a few bloodstained tears on his trousers and a painful looking gash across his forehead, but nothing that looks immediately life threatening.
With the sounds of the sirens getting even closer, Dick quickly, but carefully, hoists Jason over his shoulder and hurries in the opposite direction.
“Hang on, Little Wing. I’ll keep you safe.”
xxxxxxxxxx
Even discounting the fact that over five years and an apparent resurrection have passed since he last saw Jason, Dick is still staggered by the changes in the younger man. The whip thin fifteen year old with the infectious smile is gone. Jason’s bulked up physique is littered with horrific shining scars and the remnants of flash burns, evidence of the Joker’s terrible crime. Newer scars, many of them still pink and healing, are layered overtop the signs of Jason’s premature death. Dick mentally records each and every one of Jason’s hurts, planning on revisiting it on the Joker in full the next time they cross paths.
“What happened to you, Jason?” Dick wonders aloud as he begins clearing up his first aid kit. “Why didn’t you come to me?”
Dick knows the answer to the latter even as he asks the question. Jason wouldn’t see much difference between him and Bruce, not if he was driven half-mad by the Pit. He would just be someone else who had failed to protect and avenge him. Not for the first time, Dick desperately wishes that wasn’t the case. That he’d ignored the code he and Bruce operated under and killed the Joker. Dick shoves those thoughts away immediately. Those idle thoughts won’t change what’s already happened and certainly won’t help Jason.
At this point, Dick’s not entirely sure what he can do to help his little brother. Dick only knows bits and pieces of what’s been going on since the Red Hood appeared on Gotham. Bruce has been his usual secretive self and Alfred hadn’t been much better. Especially not after Bruce had put all the pieces together and discovered their lost Robin was the Red Hood. Jason was family. Dick had every right to know the entire situation when it concerned his Little Wing.
Since exhaustion is starting to creep in, Dick drags a comfortable chair from his apartment’s sitting area over to the bedside. His Gotham apartment is a modest studio that’s barely the size of his bedroom in Wayne Manor, but even the sofa is too far away from Jason right now. Dick would climb into the other side of the bed if he didn’t think the younger man would react badly to it when he woke. Not that Dick suspects he’ll be much safer in the chair if Jason decides otherwise.
He peels himself out of his Nightwing uniform, folding then hiding it away in the secret compartment in the back of the closet. To be on the safe side, he shoves the remains of Jason’s gear in with it, bloodstains and all. It’s a tight squeeze, but Dick manages. From his dresser, Dick grabs two pairs of sweats and a tank. Dick dresses quickly, nearly getting tangled in the shirt in his haste. He takes a lot more care dressing Jason, gently sliding the soft cotton sweats up his legs and over his hips. Dick had bought them when he’d first hurt his leg, purchasing a size bigger to accommodate the brace. Even so, they’re a bit snug on Jason, but at least he won’t wake up naked.
The moment he sinks down into the overstuffed chair, Dick’s eyelids become heavy. He dozes on and off, jerking awake periodically as Gotham begins to stir. Each time his eyes immediately track to the bed where Jason remains unmoving. The steady rise and fall of Jason’s chest keeps him in the chair.
Like he’d first suspected, Jason’s arm and shoulder suffered the most damage. No broken bones, but Dick had needed to stitch several deep gashes in both places. It’s the single deep cut in the fleshy part of Jason’s shoulder that worries him the most. Over the years, he’s seen numerous times what the sharp edge of a batarang can do. The deep cut to Jason’s shoulder looks far too similar to those injuries for Dick’s liking. He’d demand answers from Bruce, but he’s not about to let the older man know where Jason is yet. Dick’s even more terrified to have Bruce confirm his suspicions.
Seeing Bruce drag the Joker from the explosion is one thing—the older man could have already seen that Jason was safe—but if he actually attacked Jason, that’s something else entirely. Attacked Jason and left him for dead in favour of the man who’d murdered him. The implications of it all make Dick’s head hurt and his chest tighten. He doesn’t even want to imagine what was going through Jason’s head or what will happen now. Bruce had one chance to help Jason, and apparently saving the life of a criminal was more important than helping his son.
Dick only hopes there’s something he can do to fix the destruction Bruce has left in his wake.
xxxxxxxxxx
It’s closer to noon when Jason begins to stir.
Dick’s still sprawled in the chair, but for the past hour or so he’s been skimming news websites on his laptop. He glances at Jason’s face out of the corner of his eye, trying to judge if the younger man’s actually waking up. For the first few minutes there’s nothing beyond the odd twitch along the finer muscle groups of his face. It’s only once Jason’s left hand begins to clench and unclench that Dick sets the laptop aside on the nightstand.
“Jason?”
Jason’s reaction is so sudden and explosive that it’s only a lifetime of training that keeps Dick from jerking out of the chair. Before his eyes even open, Jason has flipped himself over and then off the other side of the bed. He hunches there, visible only from the shoulders up, as he takes in his surroundings with wide eyes. He shakes his head slightly, more to get his too long hair out of his eyes than anything else. The motion only draws attention to the thing Dick has been trying to avoid looking at all night. The shock of pure white trauma-induced hair over his right eye. While patching Jason up earlier, Dick had seen the faint edge of an older scar is visible on the edge of his hairline.
“Jay?”
For a brief moment, Jason holds his gaze and in that moment Dick can see the boy Jason had been looking back at him. Jason’s breath hitches and he stumble falls back against the wall behind him. The injured man sucks in several deep breaths through clenched teeth, and purposely knocks his head against the wall. When the huffed breaths become a scream, Dick launches himself over the bed and to Jason’s side.
Dick has never hated Bruce as much as he does in this moment. Dick hadn’t thought that was possible after he’d found out about Jason’s death from someone other than Bruce months after the funeral, but Bruce has proved him wrong in the worst possible way.
Dick slips his hands behind Jason’s head, fingers sliding through his dark hair in an attempt to keep him from striking his head against the wall. He draws Jason’s upper body towards him, touching their foreheads. Jason’s screams slowly taper off, returning to hitching, gasping breaths that are choked out of him. Dick bites hard on the inside of his cheek to keep his own tears at bay. It’s even harder when Jason’s hands come up to clutch at his shirt.
“He chose him. Him over me,” Jason moans, his breath panting damp against his cheek. “I thought.... I thought I might be important enough....”
“Goddamn you, Bruce,” Dick growls, his hands sliding forward to cup Jason’s cheeks. He uses the grip to tilt Jason’s head back just enough so their eyes meet. Blue looking into blue. Jason’s eyes are glassy with tears that he’s stubbornly refusing to shed. It’s a relief to see that stubbornness hasn’t faded. Dick suspects it has a lot to do with Jason’s return to them. To him.
“I will always choose you, Jason. I swear it. Always.”
Jason all but crawls into his lap, nearly upending Dick’s precarious balance. He winds his arms around the younger man, holding onto him tightly. Jason’s doesn’t say anything further, but presses his face against Dick’s neck, panting hotly against his skin. His hands are gripping the back of Dick’s shirt now, tugging it so hard the neck of the shirt is nearly strangling him. Dick ignores it, ignores everything except for Jason who’s struggling not to break into a million pieces.
“Come on, Jay,” Dick murmurs once Jason’s breathing begins to even out. His knee has been aching for a while now, but he hadn’t wanted to disturb Jason. Only now that it seems like Jason’s about to fall asleep again, and Dick would rather that not happen on the floor. “The bed’s a lot more comfortable than down here. Up you get.”
It’s an awkward thing trying to get back up when Jason refuses to let go of him. Dick vaguely remembers Jason doing a similar impression of a limpet when he was sick nearly a decade ago. All of the cocky attitude would bleed out of him and he’d stick as close as possible to whoever was nearest. Dick had spent more than one afternoon trapped on the sofa in the media room with a sick Jason all but wrapped around him. He’d always put up an annoyed front, but Dick enjoyed those afternoons. Right now he’s too worried about Jason to even consider any other emotions.
“You didn’t forget me, did you?” Jason murmurs against his collarbone once they’ve settled down on the bed. They’re lying face to face under the blankets, the only contact between their bodies where Jason’s forehead touches his chest. For all of his added bulk, Jason’s able to make himself appear quite small. “You didn’t replace me?”
Dick squeezes his eyes shut tight. He should have known that Jason would be aware of Tim. The newest incarnation of Robin had been a surprise. After what happened to Jason, Dick had thought Bruce would never take on another younger partner. At the very least not one who was still in high school.
“You’re not replaceable,” Dick promises him, running a hand along Jason’s arm, squeezing his bicep gently. “You’re still my Little Wing. That’s not something that’s gonna change just because you’ve grown bigger than me.”
Jason relaxes further into the mattress, still not looking up at him. There’s so much Dick wants to know, but for the moment he’s content to hold off. Considering everything that’s happened and still happening, Dick’s willing to follow Jason’s lead. Eventually he’ll confront Bruce, force the older man to talk about all of the things he’s has always avoided. With the exception of the uniform encased in glass down in the Cave, for the past five years it was as though Jason had never existed. His room was locked and every time his name was so much as mentioned, Bruce would growl. After a while, Dick had just stopped trying.
Right now, with the broken shadow of his little brother curled up against him, Dick wishes that he’d pushed Bruce more. Maybe if Jason hadn’t been reduced to a mere specter, they would have realized he was alive sooner.
“Just rest,” Dick murmurs into Jason’s rumpled hair. “Things will look better once the sun goes down.”
Dick just hopes he’s telling the truth.
xxxxxxxxxx
Not surprisingly, it’s his cell phone that wakes him. Even half asleep he instantly recognizes the ominous ringtone. He’s been woken by that same ringtone more times than he can count over the years, almost more often than his actual alarm clock. As he fumbles for the phone, he catches sight of that same rarely used clock. He squints at it for several long moments, trying to make sure he’s not reading the numbers wrong because he’s sure it can’t almost be time for dinner. Bruce apparently has more restraint than Dick gave him credit for. He’s honestly surprised the call hadn’t come hours ago.
Of course, he could be giving Bruce too much credit. It couldn’t have taken him that long to foist the Joker off on the authorities. Bruce would have had ample time to get back to the Cave before the sun even rose. Even taking into account the possibility that Bruce could have gone back to look for Jason, the call should have still come long before noon. Alfred had known that Dick was going to Crime Alley, so Bruce would have known too. Would have known, too, that Dick would look after his little brother.
“Yeah?” Dick grunts once he snatches his phone off the nightstand. He’s tempted to let it go to voicemail, but Bruce would only call back again. Right now Jason is still asleep and Dick would like to keep it that way.
“Is he with you?"
Dick carefully shifts onto his back, rolling and twisting so he doesn’t dislodge Jason or lose his warm spot on the mattress. He glances down at Jason’s face once he settles, relieved to see his features relaxed and peaceful. That alone shows just how exhausted Jason really is because in the past Jason would awake at the slightest sound. Dick drops his head back onto the pillow then drapes his free arm over his eyes to block out the late afternoon sun. Hiding his eyes also keeps Dick from seeing the dark bruises that have appeared while they were sleeping.
“Hello, Bruce.”
At his side, Jason mumbles something indistinct, warm breath puffing across Dick’s collarbone. Since the phone rang, Jason has been shifting about more as well, hinting that he’s close to waking up. Dick tries to slide away from Jason, wanting to put some distance between them so that Jason can continue sleeping undisturbed. Jason himself foils those plans by tightening his previously loose grip on Dick’s top. Since he can’t climb out on the fire escape or hide himself in the bathroom, Dick just hopes Jason continues to sleep for a little while longer. Long enough for him to finish his conversation with Bruce.
“Is he with you?” Bruce repeats, the glower evident in his voice.
“Is the Joker back in Arkham?”
Dick is aware that he sounds like a petulant child, but he can’t bring himself to care. All day he’s found it difficult to get past the fact that Bruce had gone to that monstrous clown before Jason. It shouldn’t matter that Jason had temporarily stepped over that invisible line they were never meant to cross, he was still one of them. Still family.
“Dick, I don’t have time for this. If you know where Jason is, I need you to tell me.”
“I saw how things went down last night, so I really doubt you’re what Jason needs right now.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” Bruce counters, his voice clipped.
Dick just barely swallows a burst of angry laughter. “You’re really going to try that? Really? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the gash on his shoulder?”
He’s waiting for Bruce to claim that the injury was merely friendly fire. He desperately wants Bruce to tell him that he hadn’t actually attacked Jason during their showdown with the Joker. Because there’s no way that Bruce would purposely hurt Jason. Dick has to believe that. He has to believe that the man who raised him and taught him the moral code he lives by hadn’t defended his little brother’s murderer.
“He needed to be stopped. Killing the Joker wouldn’t bring him the peace he craves. It would only destroy him.”
Had Bruce been talking about anyone other than Jason, Dick might have been inclined to agree with the older man. Vengeance may be what spurred he and Bruce to don masks, but that wasn’t what ruled their actions. There were lines they didn’t cross because crossing those lines would make them no better than the criminals they fought. Jason has always been an exception to everything. Dick doubts there’s anyone else in Gotham who would have dared to jack the Batmobile’s tires. Cheating the Reaper after an autopsy and a funeral is a claim that, as far as Dick knows, only Jason can make.
“That may be true,” Dick consents, inclining his head briefly even though Bruce can’t see him. “It still didn’t give you the right to take that choice from him. Jason is a good man, despite everything. He would have made the right choice in the end.”
“That’s not a chance I could take.”
“Dick?”
He bites out a silent curse, praying desperately that Bruce hasn’t heard Jason’s mumbled voice. Not that Dick thinks for one second that Bruce doesn’t already believe that Jason’s with him. Dick would just rather Bruce not have not even the slightest proof yet. At least not until Jason’s more clearheaded.
“Shh, Jaybird,” Dick hushes, pressing the mouthpiece of his phone against his shoulder as he touches his lips to Jason’s forehead. “Just keep quiet for a few minutes.”
Jason tilts his head back, blinking at him owlishly. It’s almost frightening to watch Jason’s expression go from muddled to laser focused in the space of a blink. Dick doesn’t even want to consider what’s happened in the past five years to cause Jason to develop such traits. The Jason he remembers needed at least two cups of coffee before he’d even consider functioning in the morning. Three if it had been a busy night. After everything that Dick knows and suspects went down last night, Dick hadn’t thought to get a coherent thought out of Jason before at least four cups.
“Damn Bat,” Jason grumbles as he burrows his face against Dick’s chest.
“—allowed to run free. He needs to be restrained until we can be sure he’s not a danger to himself or anyone else.”
Dick takes several deep breaths and mentally counts to ten before he responds. “Still not your call, Bruce. Hell, you’re the last one who gets to make that call.”
“And you are?”
“Maybe not. But at least I’m making a conscious effort to not make things worse.” Dick sighs, massaging Jason’s scalp with his free hand in lieu of scrubbing tiredly at his eyes. “Talk things out with Alfred before you do anything else.”
Dick disconnects the call and tosses his phone towards the foot of the bed. Invoking Alfred likely hasn’t bought them much time, but then Bruce is fond of accusing him of wishful thinking. Dick fervently prays that whatever deity takes pity on former adolescent superhero sidekicks grants Jason the time he needs to get his thoughts sorted... and hopefully not go on a second homicidal spree.
“I don’t get it.” The words are almost completely muffled against his chest, forcing Dick to strain to make out what Jason’s saying. “Why are you sticking up for me?”
“You’re my Jaybird,” Dick says into the top of Jason’s head. He winds both arms around the younger man’s shoulders, squeezing him tight. “You could be the biggest fuck up imaginable and I’d side with you.”
“I still hate it when you call me that.”
For all the annoyance Jason tries to imbue in his tone, Dick can feel the way the corners of his mouth tilt up through his thin shirt. An answering smile tugs at Dick’s lips. He attempts to burrow in closer, relishing the fact that it’s really Jason lying there with him. That he has his Little Wing back. Dick’s not naïve enough to think that everything will be all right just because Jason’s back with him. At worst Jason’s turned soulless killer and at best he’s dangerously suicidal.
“You can come home with me if you want,” Dick offers. It’s dim and warm enough in the apartment that he could easily fall asleep again. Jason’s been quiet long enough that Dick’s not entirely sure he hasn’t.
Jason shifts lazily against him, his body tensing momentarily as he stretches. “I thought I had come home with you.”
“Home home. Not my Gotham crashpad,” Dick clarifies, his whole body thrumming contentedly as Jason somehow finds a way to wind himself more tightly around him. “I can’t guarantee he won’t try to follow, but at least we’ll be on our own turf if he does.”
The quiet stretches on longer than he’d like, but Jason doesn’t pull away.
“Our own turf....”
The words are so quiet that at first Dick’s not sure he’s actually hard them. There’s a hint of wonder to them, as though it was possible Dick could ever turn Jason away. Dick’s not even sure he would have been able to turn away the homicidal drug kingpin version of Jason. Not if there was even the slightest chance his Little Wing was still hidden inside.
“If we get up now, we can be gone before Bruce shows up.”
“Fucking Bruce,” Jason groans as he flops over onto his back.
Finally able to see Jason’s face again, Dick has to bite back the urge to start cursing Bruce yet again. There has to be some gray area in the Batman’s moral code or else Bruce risks the possibility of Tim falling down the same rabbit hole as Jason. And while Dick would continue to do what he can to pick up the pieces, he doesn’t want to spend his adult life cleaning up Bruce’s messes when another soldier inevitably fails to live up to his exacting standards.
Dick rolls onto his stomach, the motion pressing him against Jason’s side from ankles to waist. He holds himself up on his elbows so that he’s still able to see the younger man’s face. “I want you to come to Blüdhaven with me. You need a chance to relax and actually process everything. But I won’t force you to come if you don’t want to.”
Jason tilts his head, looking at Dick instead of the cracked ceiling. “Can we stop at Gino’s for a pizza on the way?”
The request forces a laugh out of Dick. Five years obviously hasn’t been long enough for Jason to forget his teenage addiction for the deep dish pizzas they used to share after patrol. He really shouldn’t be surprised. Pizza has been their way of bonding since the very beginning.
Dick leans down and smacks a kiss against Jason’s forehead. “Let’s get going. Alfred can only stall Bruce for so long.”
As he goes to push himself up, Jason latches on to his upper arms, holding him in place. Dick stills immediately, staring at Jason intently. After only a few moments of observation, Jason looks away. His grip remains firm, and Dick can see the struggle going on inside his head in the fine muscle twitches around his eyes and mouth. He stays patient, not forcing the issue in case Jason’s not ready. There’s still so much they need to talk about, so much that Dick wants to understand, but he’s willing to wait and take it all on Jason’s terms.
“Thanks, Dick.”
The words are spoken barely above a whisper and aimed at Dick’s left elbow. He blinks a few times, glancing at Dick out of the corner of his eye before he relaxes back against the pillow. Chews nervously on his lower lip as though Dick was expecting an extravagant apology... or any apology at all. Dick may not fully understand what sent Jason on his destructive path, but what he does know would be enough to send anyone over the edge.
There’s so much Dick wants to say, promises he wants to make, but they don’t have the time. Not with Bruce on the way or Jason still so stressed and frazzled. Jason needs time to sort himself out before he’s faced with the full force of the Batman’s displeasure. Dick would suggest waiting even longer (twenty years sounds about right) before Jason and Bruce have another face to face. Even before Sarajevo, Bruce and Jason had been a combustible combination that had led to Jason licking his wounds at Dick’s apartment while Bruce glowered from one of the mansion’s towers. It was never a question of who Dick would side with; then or now.
“You don’t ever have to thank me for wanting you around. I don’t care what Bruce or Alfred or even Tim think, you’re my Jaybird. I will always want you around.”