Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dark curtains billowed out from an open window, the night air sending a chill through the room. Dick huffed in annoyance from where he had thrown himself on the couch at the prospect of having to move. Dragging his hands down his tired face and steeled himself to close the offending window. It was Blüdhaven after all.

It had been a long day. It seemed like every day was a long day recently. He came home from both his day job and his night job tired and sore, but he always had the other to head off to. He was running himself into the ground, and he knew that, but he didn’t exactly have any other choices. He and Bruce weren’t on speaking terms and Blüdhaven was one of the few places that could give Gotham a run for its money in terms of violence.

Okay, close the window first, then shower and change out of his Nightwing suit. Then maybe food. He could do this; it was only three more things and he’d be able to pass out for a few hours before needing to be down at the precinct.

Twenty minutes later and he was standing in front of his depressingly empty fridge. Apparently, it’d been a while since he’d picked up any groceries. He filed that away as a task for his future self and grabbed a box of mac & cheese from a cupboard before filling a small pot with water and setting it on the stove. Something in the back of his mind tingled and he perked up a little. He fiddled with the burner for a second longer before speaking up, “I know you probably consider boxed food blasphemous, but do you want any Little Wing?”

Dick turned after getting no response and peered at his uninvited house guest. Jason Todd was sitting quietly on the couch, staring at Dick but making no attempt to respond to him. Apparently, this night was going to be a quiet one.

Their casual staring contest continued until Dick sighed and turned back to the stove dumping the box into the now boiling water and setting the timer before drifting over to the couch and slumping down on it. “Anything you’ve been wanting to watch?” Dick queried as he booted up the TV even though he knew he probably wouldn’t get a response out of Jason tonight.

Dick settled on Thor: Ragnorok after mindlessly scrolling on Disney Plus for a few minutes. Figuring Jason would appreciate the witty humor that mirrored his own. A beeping interrupted the tired haze Dick had fallen into a few minutes into the movie. He pushed himself off the couch and made his way back into the kitchen to finish up their measly dinner.

He brought two steaming bowls over and set them on the coffee table between the two former Robins and the TV before settling back into the couch.

“You liked red pepper flakes in yours right?” As expected, Dick got no response, so he shrugged and grabbed his bowl.

Dick woke as the credits started rolling, squinting his eyes against the bright screen before glancing over to the other side of the couch. Jason hadn’t moved his position, which wasn’t surprising, but the fact that he was still there at all was. Jason was sticking around for longer than usual tonight.

Despite the personal touch of red pepper flakes, his bowl sat untouched, the food now cold and congealed. With a sigh, Dick gathered both their dinners up and headed to the kitchen dumping the contents of Jason’s bowl into the garbage before placing everything in the sink. Another task for his future self he decided.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this time?” Dick called out glancing over at the seated Jason. Dick knew the answer, and he knew Jason wouldn’t tell him even if he didn’t know, but he felt the need to fill the silence. Usually, when Jason stuck around for longer, he was in a talking mood; he felt uncomfortably like a ghost right now Dick thought with a shiver.

“You uh sure you don’t have anything you want to talk about?” Dick asked as he made his way back over to the couch. “If not, we should probably call it. It’s been a long night and I have work soon.” Jason didn’t move and Dick rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably under his unwavering scrutiny. “Or I guess not.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before the weight of it broke through Dick’s resolve. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “I’m so sorry. I’m just as sorry as the day I learned about what happened, and I’m even more sorry that I learned what happened after the fact. I should’ve been there for you.” He dropped his head in defeat a few tears escaping his tired eyes.

“I don’t know what to do Little Wing. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I’ve lost so much, and I’m trying to stop other people from losing like I have, but it’s just making me lose more and I’m not sure how much longer I can do it.” They sat in silence after that confession Dick lost in his thoughts. When he gathered himself together enough to look back up, Jason was gone.

Dick stood with a shuddering sigh and made his way to his bedroom before collapsing onto his bed. He was too tired to even get under the covers, but at least tonight he had cried before getting into bed so he didn’t have to deal with a damp pillow. More tears slipped out as his heavy lids slid closed; apparently, he had spoken too soon. Oh well, tomorrow was another day and another chance to not cry himself to sleep for once. It was also another chance for things to get worse, but he’d let future Dick deal with that problem. All current Dick was responsible for was getting up when his alarm went off.

Chapter Text

The incessant beeping of his alarm dragged him from the depths of sleep. Dick really needed to start getting more of it, but one plus was that he didn’t frequently sleep for long enough for nightmares to claw their way into his dreams.

Dick got up with a groan and went through the motions of getting ready for work. Then he went through the motions of going to work and doing his work and so on until he was slumping against his apartment door fumbling for his keys.

He pushed into his apartment and closed and locked the door behind him. He really didn’t feel up to patrolling tonight, but the criminals didn’t care about Dick’s personal feelings on the matter. Blüdhaven needed Nightwing and didn’t care about the person behind the mask. To be fair, Dick didn’t care too much about that person either.

12 hours shifts were the norm for his department, which were long, but Dick was just glad he worked the 6am shift so he had time to crash before heading out for patrol.

Dick kicked his shoes off by the foot of his bed, (when had he made it to his room?) and fell over onto it. He really shouldn’t go out on patrol tonight. Today had passed in a haze and his brain and reflexes were lagging big time.

——

The next thing he knew his alarm was blaring, signaling his next task. He really hated that thing. He got up and got ready for patrol, the fog in his brain slowing his movements as he suited up and slid out his window.

Nightwing was hoping for a quiet patrol, needed a quiet patrol even, and it looked like he might get his wish for the first few hours of patrol before yelling from a nearby alley drew his attention.

“Looks like we’ve run out of luck,” he muttered as he grappled over and took in the scene from the rooftop.

A handful of thugs were harassing a young woman pushing her around and laughing as they snatched at her and her belongings.

Nightwing was looking for the right moment to join the brawl when he sensed someone whisper up beside him.

“Come to join the party, Little Wing?”

Nightwing glanced over at Jason who was examining the events unfolding down below them. “You’d better get down there and help her. That’s your job, isn’t it? To get there and help before it’s too late?”

It was a talking night apparently.

Jason’s thinly veiled jab stung, but he was right. Nightwing needed to get his head in the game and get down there. He pulled out his escrima sticks with a grounding shake of his head and jumped down into the middle of the group.

He tazed the first thug before whipping around to knock at the knees of the second. He was recovering from his sweep when a startled yell broke his concentration on he was struck hard in the back of his head.

Nightwing stumbled back with a grunt before returning the favor to the offender and adding a satisfying knee to their stomach when they doubled over from the previous blow.

The four thugs now had their attention fully on him and Nightwing saw the woman scurry away from the corner of his eye. He’d have to try and track her down later so she could file a police report, but he had other things to focus on right now.

Thug Number Four, who he decided he’d call Squatty since he was so much shorter than his comrades let out a string of profanity before charging at Nightwing brandishing a knife. Where had that come from?

Nightwing managed to mostly dodge out of the way, but the knife still glanced across his ribs. He hissed in pain before turning and jarring his attacker with an escrima, using their stunned pause to twist the knife out of their hand and send it clattering into the shadows of the alley.

“We can keep this dance going,” Nightwing said with a huff edged with more exhaustion than he was willing to admit. “Or we can call it a night. You’ve already lost your victim and you know how this is going to end.”

Apparently, they were just as stupid as they looked since they hardly took a moment to think before lunging at him from their various spots. Nightwing stepped back and let two of them smack into each other as he tazed the third and tripped the fourth who smacked hard on the ground. Like he said: stupid.

“I did tell you to stop while you were ahead,” he sighed out as he zip-tied them and notified the police.

He grappled back to the rooftops and took a second to catch his breath and make sure he wasn’t bleeding too badly before setting out to look for the woman and finish his patrol.

Before he could move out though, Jason stepped out from the shadows, arms crossed in an impressive impersonation of a disappointed dad. “That’s the best you’ve got? You’ve been doing this for how long?”

Dick glared at him; he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “Yeah well at least I haven’t gotten myself killed,” he snapped back before recoiling with regret at the wounded look on Jason’s face watching as it morphed into a sneer, “And that’s entirely my fault now, is it?”

Dick sagged knowing his response had been uncalled for. He was just so done with other people telling him what his limits were, “No. It’s not. It’s not your fault.”

“You still coulda lent a hand though,” he added as he ran a hand through his sweaty hair.

Jason simply rolled his eyes as acknowledgment, giving Dick an annoyed look that said all the things they weren’t saying.

“You might as well call it a night,” he finally said nodding his head towards the shallow gash on Nightwing’s ribs.

“Can’t, I’ve still gotta find that woman,” Nightwing said. He at least had the decency to look mildly guilty when Jason glared in annoyance at his stupidity.

“You seriously have a savior complex. You know you shouldn’t be out here in your state. Do you have a death wish? Isn’t one dead son enough for B?”

Dick scoffed at the second question while tactfully avoiding the first, “B doesn’t care what happens to me anymore. Hasn’t for a while now.” The unspoken, “I don’t really care either,” hung heavy in the air for a few moments before Nightwing cleared his throat. “Well, as always, it’s been fun chatting, but I really should finish patrol. See ya around Little Wing.” And with that, he pulled out his grapple and swung out into the night.

——

Nightwing climbed in through his window a few hours later, wincing at the sting of his cut opening back up at his contortions. He went to the bathroom grabbing his med kit from the hall closet on the way. Stripping out of his suit and letting it crumple on the ground, he briefly examined the cut. It was shallow enough that he could get away without stitches, so moved to the shower turning it on and resting the temperature before climbing in. The hot water felt good on his aching muscles but made his head throb more. Probably not a concussion but he’d definitely have a headache for the next few days.

After a shower that was both too long and too short, Dick disinfected the cut before bandaging it, forcing all his attention on the task to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay for even just a few minutes longer. The rest of patrol had been relatively uneventful, but he hadn’t managed to find that woman. He hoped she was okay. He hoped he hadn’t failed her like he had so many others.

He pulled on some sweats and grabbed some painkillers before making his way to the kitchen for an ice pack and a glass of water. Remembering the dirty dishes in the sink as he filled his cup, Dick sighed in defeat. Guess he was future Dick now. He downed the drugs with his water then washed the dishes and placed them in the drying rack before making his way over to the couch and collapsing on it. Deciding he’d leave the other tasks for even more future Dick as he pressed the ice pack to the back of his skull and closed his eyes with a groan.

He let out a shuddering breath as the wait of the what-ifs pressed down on him. What if he hadn’t heard the woman’s cries? What if he’d been just a bit too slow? The fact that he hadn’t been was little comfort knowing that he probably had missed the cries of another and that he’d likely have to deal with the aftermath of his negligence at work tomorrow.

Logically he knew that he couldn’t save everyone, but that didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about it. Maybe Jason had a point about him having a savior complex Dick mused. Maybe Jason had a point about the other things too Dick ignored. Dick was good at ignoring things when he wanted to, like the answers to the last what-ifs that whispered through his thoughts. What if he hadn’t moved out of the way of the blade? What if he didn’t really care?

Chapter Text

It was Dick’s day off and, after eating a spoonful of peanut butter for breakfast, he decided that future Dick needed to become present Dick and go pick up some groceries. He figured there was no time like the present for that to happen, but the grumbling in his stomach as he pulled on his shoes and grabbed his keys complained that it would’ve been better if he’d become present Dick sometime in the past.

Dick made his way through the store, weaving through the aisles and picking up things at random. On a good day, Dick bought things for actual recipes. He may be a hot mess in the kitchen, but it reminded him of Jason. On the bad days, it reminded him way too much of Jason and he struggled to find the motivation to even make a sandwich. He hoped that today would be a good day as he grabbed ingredients for Chicken Alfredo.

Dick was examining the expiration date on the bottle of milk he was holding when a reflection suddenly appeared in the glass door in front of him. Dick startled, dropping the milk, and cringed as it exploded across the floor. His ears burned with embarrassment and tears pricked at his eyes. He whipped around to find Jason standing behind him.

“Seriously dude?! Now??” Dick hissed out. Jason simply shrugged dismissively before walking away and disappearing down another aisle. Dick took a moment to steady himself before sheepishly hunting for an employee to help him clean up the mess.

“So what exactly happened?” The worker he found had purple hair and was being nice enough about cleaning up Dick’s clumsiness, but he still couldn’t be convinced that she didn’t resent him.

“I uhh -- It slipped.” Dick glanced up at the girl, Daisy read her nametag, before looking away in shame.

“That’s your story and you’re sticking to it, ey?” Daisy lightly teased, but Dick just shrank back more. “Or not,” she muttered.

Dick grabbed another bottle of milk before enduring the awkwardness of being checked out by her; not many on staff at 2pm on a Tuesday. He then hightailed it out of the store as fast as he could without looking like he was fleeing from a crime scene. He didn’t want to be hunted down for shoplifting after all. He slowed to a walk as he turned the corner and found Jason waiting for him looking very smug. Dick steadfastly ignored him as he walked past.

Dick made it back to his apartment without further incident and stared daggers at the milk as he put it and the other groceries away before ripping open a box of granola bars and chewing grumpily on one. Today wasn’t a good day after all. Dick just hoped he’d have one before the food he bought went bad.

He was tempted to turn Thor: Ragnorok back on, considering he’d slept through it last time, but he’d both decided that Jason liked that movie and that he was mad at Jason. He also decided to ignore how ludicrous it was to be mad at Jason. He scrolled through various shows before powering off the TV in mild defeat. Nothing looked good.

Dick decided to wait for Jason to show up figuring that he would eventually. He must’ve drifted off at some point because the sun had shifted when he came to. Jason was nowhere to be found and that somehow hurt far worse than his hand in the milk incident earlier. He glanced briefly at his small collection of books before turning bitterly away from that too. Jason liked books and everything “Jason” was too complicated and hurt too much right now.

“May as well catch up on things,” Dick tiredly declared to no one in particular before heading to the desk in his bedroom for his laptop. The contents of his inbox were just as disappointing as the rest of his existence, the email count glaring mockingly back at him. He had plenty of spam, a healthy dose of work emails, and exactly zero personal ones. Not even anything from Babs, work or otherwise. For a moment, he entertained the idea that Bruce might’ve told Babs to cut ties with him, Dick wouldn’t put it past his former mentor, before closing his laptop with a sigh. His options for distractions were getting pretty slim, but Dick somehow managed to waste the few hours until his alarm went off to head out for patrol.

----

Patrol was littered with small skirmishes, but they were luckily all low-level things. Nightwing was able to win them fairly easily even with Jason ghosting around in the corner of his vision all night. He had just stopped to catch his breath on a rooftop when Jason finally decided to grace Nightwing with his full presence. “Took you long enough, Little Wing,” the vigilante called out between panting breaths. “I was beginning to wonder if I was imagining you,” he added with a small smirk which earned him a glare from Jason.

“You in a talking mood or nah?” Nightwing felt like talking despite being mad at his little brother just hours before. He could never stay mad at Jason for long. He’d spent enough time doing that before Jason had died. Jason simply scuffed his feet on the ground not acknowledging Nightwing’s question. “How about I start then?”

Jason didn’t say yes but he didn’t say no so Nightwing carried on. “I’ve been thinking recently,” then added, “Shocking I know,” when he noted Jason’s incredulous look. At least Jason was acknowledging him now. “But yeah, we didn’t do too much before you died and I know that’s mostly my fault, but I’m really glad for the things we did do. Like late-night ice cream trips and train surfing.” Jason perked up at the mention of that last activity and Nightwing decided now was a good time to shut his mouth.

“I liked that too,” Jason said shyly. Nightwing could hardly hide his grin. Tonight was a talking night. They weren’t always pleasant, but he still tended to prefer them. “Bruce was mad when he found out, but it was so worth it,” Jason added with a smile that made him look so young it hurt. Jason had never been allowed to be young. Being a Crime Alley kid meant growing up fast or suffering the consequences.

“You know,” Nightwing had to be careful here, “There’s a trainyard not too far from here.”

Jason outright grinned at that. “I’ve had practice since you took me; you wanna race?”

Now Nightwing was grinning too. “You are so on!”

They grappled over to the waiting trains before picking a starting point. Nightwing started counting down and Jason of course bolted away before he finished. “Hey! Cheater! Get back here!” And away they went.

When Nightwing made it to the end, Jason was nowhere to be found. The giddiness he felt earlier ghosted away with Jason, and with his brief respite over, Nightwing felt his guilt and grief press back into place. He shouldn’t have been wasting time out here. People were hurting and he was off galavanting.

Past Dick had been careless so he made his way back to his patrol route and stayed out a little while longer even if future Dick was going to suffer for it.

Chapter Text

Dick knew he needed his days off, but he also loathed them. It gave him too much time alone with his brain and he usually tried to avoid that. He had gotten in late from patrol but was also too amped up to really sleep, so after tossing and turning for a while, he decided that caffeine was the preferable option.

“I’m gonna have to stop giving Baby Bird so much crap about the amount of coffee he drinks aren’t I?” Dick glanced at the oven clock: not even 11 and he was on his fourth cup of coffee. Yeah, he definitely didn’t have a place to scold Tim over his caffeine addiction anymore. The Big Brother instinct in the back of his head flared at that, Tim’s habit was still concerning and unhealthy after all, but he ignored it in favor of topping off his mug. Today was gonna be another long day, but floating through them was always disorienting for him, so coffee it was. 

After stopping less than a chapter into his third book, Dick gave up on reading and decided that he was too tired for it to register as a bad day, which didn’t mean it was a good day but it was close enough, and he made his way into the kitchen to make the Chicken Alfredo he had planned on making before everything went to shit yesterday. It also helped that while it was technically cooking, Alfredo was still pretty simple. Somebody somewhere was probably still screaming at his recipe and technique, but Dick actually didn’t care. It tasted good to him and he was the only one eating it, well he and future Dick probably, and it was good enough for him.

A few minutes into the process, Dick found out that Jason was apparently one of the people screaming at him for his cooking skills because his little brother was now standing protectively between Dick and the stove and glaring at him. “What do you want, Little Wing? I’m trying to make food.” That earned him an incredulous look which Dick just sighed at before sidestepping Jason and adding some peeled garlic cloves and some olive oil to the pan on the stove.

 “I promise you that I’m not planning on screwing anything up, okay? I have somehow survived for 23 years after all.” Another judging look from Jason. “Do you see Alfred around here anywhere? I haven’t exactly been around him recently, you know. Alfred means Bruce and I want nothing to do with Bruce.” 

The now exasperated Dick was tempted to say that this now counted as a bad day despite what past him had thought about its ability to become that, but he was already roasting the garlic and it wouldn’t keep for who knows how long until a good day came by, so he kept going under Jason’s watchful eye and gave him a much more smug look than strictly necessary when he didn’t burn the entire apartment down. 

He dished up plates for the both of them and made more coffee for himself before sitting down on the couch with a grunt. He maybe needed to reconsider how tired he was if cooking a simple dish wore him out this much, but that thought was added to future Dick’s problems after his first bite of food; at least present Dick had been kind enough to also leave leftovers for future Dick. 

After a couple more hours of lounging around, going through some of his work emails and doing research for patrol tonight, and many more cups of coffee, the time came to actually go on patrol. Jason had wandered off not too long after not eating his late lunch, but Dick left the kitchen light on for him anyway. With one more glance around the apartment, Nightwing headed out and hoped that there wouldn’t be too many people to fight tonight.

----

There was a robbery going down at one of the jewelry stores, and Nightwing was bracing himself for a fight, but the cowards, probably first-timers, had surrendered as soon as he had shown up. It seemed that, for once in his life, Nightwing had actually been granted one of his wishes. “About time too,” he thought disdainfully, briefly flashing back to a few of his many unanswered wishes. 

Besides that one incident, Blüdhaven was quiet, almost suspiciously so; not unlike the calm before a storm Dick would’ve mused had he been more conscious, but Dick in his present state had drifted far from that realm. 

After he stumbled and almost face-planted on a routine landing for the fifth time, Nightwing decided that he should maybe call it a night. As much as it gnawed at him to know that he could be helping more people if he stayed out longer, he also knew that it was a quiet night and that he’d help the fewest people if he got himself killed because he was being even more of an idiot than usual. With that small comfort to quell his guilt, he headed back to his apartment and hopefully bed.

----

When Dick arrived home from patrol, it was to a text message from an unexpected number taunting him on his phone: 

We need to talk. -B

Oh great. Big Boss Brucie had decided to acknowledge the existence of his oldest son. Dick wasn’t really in the mood to talk but knew he wouldn’t be left alone if he didn’t respond. 

What do you want, Bruce?

he shot back while making his way to his room. There had been a time he called this man “Dad” and he hoped the disparity would smart at Bruce’s ego if even a little. He tossed the phone on his bed before heading into the bathroom to shower.

Whether Dick took a few extra minutes in the shower just to spite Bruce was something that only he would know, but it felt nice anyway, and no, he definitely was not being super petty or anything.

How much do you know about the Red Hood? -B

Dick didn’t know whether to be offended by or relieved at the lack of niceties at the response that awaited him on his return. Apparently, Alfred wasn’t around to try to keep the peace; he never would’ve let the opportunity slide to check in on his pseudo-grandson, which reminded Dick of how guilty he felt about how little contact he’d had with him since he and Bruce stopped talking, but no time to think about that, he had pettiness to convey in this hopefully brief conversation.

You mean the punk who beat up your latest pet? 

What about him?

Dick honestly liked Tim and knew he didn’t deserve such treatment, especially after what he’s gone through with both his parents and Bruce himself, but Bruce always got under Dick’s skin and made him prickle with disdain against everything around him, plus he really did hate Bruce’s line of kid soldiers.

A bubble appeared on the screen before disappearing and reappearing several times. The response finally came, with the wise decision to ignore Dick’s taunt.

He’s violent and he needs to be stopped. -B

Aww, is Batman so desperate for help that he’ll come to the likes of me?

Just come to The Cave tomorrow night. -B

Dick knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter, so he didn’t bother responding, and a few minutes later an encrypted file with everything the Bats’ knew about the up-and-coming crime lord pinged on his phone. Joy. Oracle was in on this cruel joke too. Dick glared at Jason from where he was watching from the shadows before heading back out on patrol for a little while longer. Screw sleep, he needed to punch something.

Chapter Text

Dick had gotten an emergency call-in to work as he was finishing up his extended patrol. He was tempted to head in as Nightwing, but they were expecting Officer Grayson, so he ultimately went with that. There was a fire blazing through the Moore Project and the high-density housing put a lot of lives at stake. He was exhausted, but that didn’t matter. People needed him and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to help. 

It was chaos when Dick arrived on scene, first responders were everywhere trying to tamp down the blaze and get as many people as they could to safety. He checked in with his superiors before joining the throng. It was overwhelming and Dick struggled to know where to start. “Just start somewhere Dickface,” a voice helpfully supplied. “Stop standing around and just start.” Dick couldn’t see Jason, but he knew that voice. It helped kick his brain into action and he joined the officers directing the crowd. 

Everything was loud and people all over were yelling and crying, but one caught his attention. A hysterical woman was fighting against an officer to try and run back towards the fire. Dick headed over to see what was going on. “My baby! She’s still in there!” 

“Ma’am, I can’t let you go back. There’s nothing you or I can do, but we have people clearing the buildings. If they can get to your daughter, they’ll get her out.”

“Please, please! You have to help me! She’s only 4, we got separated in the rush. Her hand slipped out of mine and please, you have to help!” She turned toward Dick, “Please, she’s my child, you have to help me.”

Dick saw the pain in her eyes and heard the ache in her voice. It mirrored his own from when he was a child, “MOM! DAD! You have to help them! They fell and they’re hurt! You have to help, please!” He had known they were dead, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it at the time. He didn’t want this woman to get so closely acquainted with that pain. “I’ll see what I can do ma’am.” The other officer glared at him for his brashness but didn’t say anything.

“Oh thank you, thank you! Her name is Ellie,” the woman’s voice broke, “She just learned how to write it. Please bring her back to me, she’s all I have.” 

“I’ll do my best, now get yourself to safety.” She nodded and was guided away by the other officer. Dick thanked his past self for knowing how stupid he could be and thereby having the foresight to grab his emergency rebreather from his Nightwing kit. He didn’t have flame retardant clothes, but like he said: stupid. 

“Where to start?” he muttered, not expecting an answer, but when he looked up, he thought he had maybe gotten one. There was Jason standing at the edge of an alley and looking ghostly in the flickering light. He turned and headed down it and Dick followed determinedly. 

When Dick caught up to Jason he was standing at the foot of a fire escape. He didn’t say anything, simply pointed up. Dick nodded his thanks and began climbing. 

Dick put on his rebreather as he reached the top floor; better to start at the top and work his way down because the fire was moving in which meant he’d probably have to escape quickly, and he thought future Dick would appreciate a shorter potential fall. He easily pried open the window; he should maybe follow up on just how easy it was in fact and climbed in. The fire hadn’t reached this section, but the smoke definitely had. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t yell very loud with the rebreather, so he took it off in hopes of finding her faster.

“Ellie! Ellie! If you can hear me, then I need your help! Your mom is really worried about you and she sent me to find you, but the smoke is making it hard to see so I need you to make a sound or something!” Nothing.

He made his way through all the rooms like that, the smoke burning his eyes and the yelling burning his throat. Dick’s vision is fuzzing at the edges and he’s pretty sure he’s at least 90% caffeine and adrenaline at this point, but he doesn’t have a choice. He needs to find this little girl or he’ll never forgive himself. He also wouldn’t forgive himself if it took him too long to find Ellie; the smoke was bad here and he knew the damage it alone could do to the body, especially that of a four-year-old. 

He made his way through the fifth floor as quickly as he could while still being thorough before moving down to the fourth floor. Dick really hoped he hadn’t missed her in all the chaos; he really should’ve asked the mother more about where her daughter might be, he didn’t even know for sure that he was in the right building, but it was too late for that now so he just pressed on. 

The smoke was getting thicker with every passing minute and he eventually had to give up on calling for Ellie so he could put his rebreather back on. They would both die if he passed out from smoke inhalation, and his reaction to the conditions scared him. If he couldn’t breathe, then how would she be able to? But he forced that freezing anxiety down and pushed on.

Dick was starting to get really anxious when he still hadn’t found Ellie halfway through the third floor. He could see the flicker of flames eating at the stairwell ahead of him and had to acknowledge that he’d either find Ellie on this floor or probably wouldn’t find her at all. As much as he wanted to help, he wouldn’t survive searching through the second or first floors in just his police uniform. The firefighters might have a chance, but they were still tied up with stopping the spread of the fire and searching the buildings closer to the origin of the fire. There was a small chance that Ellie had found a safe spot, but the odds against her were growing with the flames. 

The smoke was almost too thick to see through and the building was sweltering and creaking from the sustained abuse of fire and Dick was running out of rooms before he had to give up. Three apartments left before he was done with the last viable floor, Dick was hoping against hope here but he refused to give up until he absolutely had to. Facing Ellie’s mother with the hard news would be hard enough, but doing it knowing he could’ve done more would crush him. 

Two apartments left, and he had almost walked out to the last one when he spotted something: The shower curtain had been pulled down from the wall; it might be nothing, but he was getting desperate. 

Dick nearly cried when he saw her. There was Ellie, huddled in the bathtub. She didn’t look conscious, and sharp fear shot through him at the thought that he was too late, but a quick check of her pulse and breathing told him that she was still alive. Not the greatest situation, but he could work with it. 

Dick didn’t hesitate before ripping off his rebreather and fitting it to her small face. Thank all the gods above that they were designed with extra room for adjustments for just this kind of situation. He waited several minutes for her heartbeat and breathing to begin normalizing before a bit of the tightness in his chest eased. The smoke was burning at his lungs and his eyes were watering so much that, after picking Ellie up and leaving the bathroom, he lost track of where to go. 

He thought he saw a flicker across the room and hoped that he had seen Jason pointing the way again, and not just the dancing of flames, and headed that direction. He reached a fire escape window after what felt like forever and began working the window open with one hand. Now that he had Ellie in his arms, he wasn’t putting her down until he knew for certain that she was safe, especially since she was still unconscious. Everything around them was so hot that the metal was almost painful to the touch, but he was so close to getting her safe that he couldn’t stop now. 

Dick was coughing and the world was starting to spin around him, but he managed to wiggle both himself and Ellie out of the window and onto the landing. Then he closed the window behind them, it was hot enough in there that the oxygen and breeze blowing in through the window could make the room spontaneously combust and he definitely didn’t want that to happen. 

Glancing down the ladder three stories to the ground had him swaying on his feet and he had to pause and take some painful breaths before carefully and slowly making his way to the ground. He could still hardly see and the smoke coating his lungs weighed them down and made it hard to get air, so he annoyedly stopped on each landing, which also gave him a chance to readjust Ellie in his arms and check to make sure that her breathing continued to stay relatively unlabored. 

It hurt him to do so, but Dick removed the rebreather from Ellie as late as he could before placing her in the care of some paramedics. He couldn’t risk them recognizing his vigilante gear while out of costume, and she seemed to be breathing okay. After checking one last time to make sure she would be okay, and despite the paramedics' complaints that he needed medical attention too, he went and hunted down her mother.

She was still standing with the same officer as before and looked about dead with worry. Dick had to clear his throat several times before hoarsely conveying to her that he had found Ellie and that she was relatively unharmed and being checked out by paramedics. He wanted to take her to Ellie himself, but the other officer stepped in. “Grayson, you did a good thing, but you’re an idiot and need to learn to back down. You’re literally gonna keel over if you keep going. Go get checked out and I’ll make sure she finds her kid.”

Dick wanted to argue, tell him that he was fine and that he needed to finish what he started, but he was on the edge of passing out and could barely manage to whisper out the ambulance number, let alone argue his point, so he listened to half of what he was told and let his comrade take over. He then went to a relatively quiet area and collapsed trying to ease the elephant off his chest and reel his head back in from where it was currently floating. When the scales of guilt and exhaustion had tipped enough that he couldn’t stand sitting there anymore, he got up and headed back into the chaos.

Chapter Text

Dick was absolutely exhausted from the events of the past couple of days. He’d spent the entire day on scene and couldn’t be convinced to leave until it was time for him to head over to Gotham. And while he was tempted to tell Bruce that he couldn’t make it tonight; equal parts of being dead on his feet and just not wanting to see Bruce, he knew that the Red Hood was violent and unchecked and that Batman must really need Nightwing’s help to be willing to break the longstanding radio silence. 

It didn’t help his internal battle that almost everything involving the fire that could be done had been, so he had no viable excuse to argue his selfishness because despite his exhaustion and the fact that his coffee consumption was beginning to rival that of Tim’s -- which was almost a scary enough thought to make him actually try to sleep -- the Red Hood needed to be stopped and Batman had asked for his help.

Dick swung by his apartment just long enough to grab his gear and more coffee before heading to Gotham.

The wind whipped around him as he raced down the highway on his bike. It was just the right side of painful and helped him stay focused and wake up a bit. It felt like freedom and reminded him of soaring through the air in the circus. That feeling came to a stop all too soon as he rolled inside the oppressive atmosphere of the Cave.

The bats were already gathered around the BatComputer and Tim gave him a small smile and wave before tuning back into whatever Batman was saying, Oracle nodded her head in acknowledgment, and Bruce did absolutely nothing. Yup, Dick definitely still hated Bruce. It was simply hard fact at this point. The Earth circles the Sun, a square has four sides, and Bruce is a douchebag. He took a second to center himself before plastering on his trademark smile, pulling off his helmet, and heading over to them. 

Dick was fighting through the fog in his brain but could hardly pay attention to what Batman was saying; his whole body hurt and he was suppressing the jarring coughs that had plagued him since his escapades earlier this morning. It certainly didn’t help that he had no desire whatsoever to be there. Something about his old mentor, whether it was him as Bruce or as Batman, made something clench inside and Dick wanted to do just about anything to get away from that feeling.

“... Nightwing. Nightwing!” Oh shit, Batman was growling at him and looking very annoyed. He must’ve drifted off more than he planned. Everyone was looking at him expectantly. Dick swayed slightly on his feet. He felt nauseous and lightheaded, which were normal symptoms for smoke inhalation, but still not a good sign. Dick spoke for the first time tonight, hoarsely whispering out, “Sorry, what do you need?”

“Are you quite alright my boy?” When did Alfred get here? Dick hadn’t noticed him join the group which made Dick worry that he was suffering from more severe smoke inhalation than he thought. That would be a big annoyance on patrol tonight. 

“Yeah, fine.” It hurt to talk and he had to swallow down another coughing fit. Dick glanced around to see most of the team looking concerned and doubtful at his declared okayness and Bruce looking stoic as ever. 

Babs was the first one to speak up, “Are you coming down with something?” Dick really wished they’d stop asking him questions and his mind was struggling with the words as much as his throat was. He just wanted to finish the briefing and be done with this never-ending day. After debating on how much he should bother telling them, he opted to simply shake his head no, he wasn’t getting sick. 

Then Tim piped in, “Wait, wasn’t there a big fire in Blüdhaven today? Were you at that?” Dick really was too tired for this; he nodded his head yes. “Then why are you here??” Dick didn’t give a response, his buzzing brain couldn’t be sure, but he was pretty sure it had been a rhetorical question. 

“Look guys,” he sounded so bad he wasn’t even sure he could convince himself, “I’m fine. Can we just--” He cut himself off to gesture towards the screen insinuating the rest of his sentence. He also took the opportunity to place a steadying hand on the back of the BatChair and slowly ease more of his weight against it as the rest of the team, although reluctantly, turned away and the briefing continued. 

With the briefing finished, they all moved to get ready when Bruce stopped them. “We’re not going out tonight.” What did he mean they weren’t going out tonight? Dick had come all the way down here and suffered under Batman’s scrutiny for nothing? For him to decide that they just weren’t doing it?

“What do you mean we’re not going out tonight?” Okay maybe a tad too defensive, but the intensity was the only thing grounding him right now.

“You’re a liability right now.”

“Well if I’m such a burden then why’d you make me come down here in the first place, huh? If you don’t want me then why are you wasting my time?” The fry in his voice answered his questions as he asked them. Bruce had wanted Dick from the past, not the present.

Bruce scowled at him, but Dick could read all the things he wasn’t saying. This is on you. You’re going to get yourself killed, or worse, someone else killed. 

“You know what? Fine. Fine! We won’t do it tonight! We’ll follow your rules like we always do because you’re the only one who knows anything about anything, right??” Dick started stalking forward, “The rest of us are jus-- shit .” And with that, the world went dark around him.

----

A wave of nausea pulled Dick from his undercurrent of exhaustion. He pried his aching eyes open with some effort and pulled an oxygen mask off as he took in his surroundings. He was, unfortunately, still in the Cave, but now in the medbay on a bed. Tim was folded in a chair next to him quietly working on his laptop. “Bucket,” he managed to croak out startling Tim.

“What?”

“I’m gonna vomit,” All over you if you don’t get moving he didn’t have the energy to add.

“Oh,” Tim stood up and grabbed an emergency emesis bag from a cabinet nearby. He shook it open and handed it to Dick and started helping him sit up. They only managed to get Dick propped up on one arm and leaning over slightly the side of the bed before Dick made good on his promise. 

Dick’s throat burned even more now and it sent him into a violent coughing fit. Tim wordlessly rubbed his back before gently taking the bag from his hands to tie it off and dispose of it while Dick collapsed back onto his bed. Tim returned shortly with a new bag but set it on a side table for the time being. He hesitated like he was wondering if it was his place before asking, “You okay?”

Dick scoffed then cringed at the pain, “Oh yeah, just peachy.” 

Tim hesitated again, his parents really had done a number on him Dick thought, “You wanna talk about it?”

Dick was too tired to gather his thoughts so he just shrugged. Tim seemed to understand because he moved to curl himself back in the chair before continuing to work on his laptop.

They sat there in silence for a while before Dick’s spiraling thoughts forced a physical reaction out of him. He let out a small pained sob and Tim quickly looked up in mild alarm. He didn’t say anything but watched as Dick broke down. He alternated between gasping sobs and racking coughs and Tim moved to his side before gently grabbing his shoulder and soothing down his arm. 

Dick looked at Tim but spiraled further into despair when he noticed the scar on Tim’s neck. It was Dick’s fault that they weren’t going after the Red Hood tonight. The monster who terrorized Tim and nearly killed him, and yet here Tim was, comforting Dick like he was the child and not the other way around. Tim was comforting Dick when he should be scolding him for ruining his chance at peace.

It was getting harder to breathe and he was starting to get lightheaded again. Which just made Dick panic more. He was being enough of an inconvenience without passing out again. Then that hit him too. Again. He had passed out in front of Bruce. While yelling at him about how fine he was. Ahhhhh! Why was his life so mortifying?! 

Bruce was never going to trust him again. Of course, he was a liability, of course, he wasn’t dependable. That’s why Bruce had forced him out in the first place and he had just gone and reminded Bruce of it. Bruce hated him and he was willing to bet that the rest of them did now too. 

Except, there was a voice trying to break through his thoughts, a calming voice belonging to someone who should definitely hate Dick, telling him to follow their breathing. Dick took a shuddering breath and tried to listen. “Come on, it’s okay. Just follow me. In for 4, hold for 7, then out for 8.” Tim had moved Dick’s hand and was holding it to his chest with one hand so Dick could feel his breathing and copy it while Tim’s other hand pressed a grounding touch into his thigh. It took a while but Dick’s breathing leveled out to his previous level of labored and he pulled his hand away in shame before rasping out an apology.

Tim looked genuinely confused at that. “For what? You haven’t done anything wrong; what do you have to apologize for?”

Dick’s response carried the weight he felt as he whispered out, “Everything.”

Tim was quiet for a moment, but it was different than Bruce’s; it was a searching quiet rather than a judgmental one. Eventually, he said, “None of us are perfect, but I do know that you should never have to apologize for having a panic attack.”

“That’s not what Bruce would say. He hates me. I failed him.”

“Not even Bruce can live up to his standards. That’s on him, not on you.” 

Even though Dick had pulled his hand away from Tim’s chest, Tim had kept his other hand on Dick’s thigh. He almost whimpered when it moved as Tim stood up and Dick immediately felt panic edging back in. Tim must’ve seen it in his eyes because he searched them for a moment before asking, “How about we watch a movie?” Dick wanted that so badly but couldn’t bring himself to say yes. Tim still understood because he kindly said, “Gimme one sec.” 

Dick had expected him to somehow hunt down a TV, or maybe even make Dick go upstairs, which he definitely did not want because they might run into Bruce, but Tim simply pulled out a cord and connected one end to his laptop before plugging the other into a monitor meant for medical info. 

Tim looked questioningly at Dick for a moment and Dick patted at the space next to him. Tim hesitated a moment longer before climbing hesitantly into bed beside him. Dick instantly pulled him in closer before asking, “What do you want to watch?”

His little brother gawked slightly at being given the choice before subtly, but visibly, steeling himself and voicing his decision, “How about Thor: Ragnarok?”

Chapter Text

Tim and Dick made it through more movies than probably healthy. Despite his exhaustion, Dick hadn’t wanted to fall asleep and risk the nightmares that he knew were brewing just below the surface. Tim seemed to wordlessly understand and had stayed by his side, content to let the movies run even as his head lulled onto Dick’s shoulder. 

“You know, you can always go to sleep,” Dick mused in a quiet and still sore voice.

“Oh sorry, right,” Tim sluggishly started moving off the bed muttering something about heading back to his house. There was something wrong with that comment, but Dick’s muddled brain couldn’t process it as he focused on pulling his little brother back to his side.

“Woahhh. Hold up Baby Bird, I think you got me wrong. I’m not kicking you out, I’m saying you can sleep here if you want to sleep.”

“Oh.” 

That was all Tim could manage as he tried to hide his shock and confusion. He didn’t dwell on it too long though because Dick had pulled Tim back to rest against him and was running his fingers through Tim’s hair. Something short-circuited in his brain and all Tim could manage was a barely decipherable, “th’ts n’ce,” before drifting off to sleep.

Now that his little brother was safely resting, Dick tried to think back to what had confused him earlier. It was difficult, but he eventually figured it out. Dick might’ve just misunderstood, but it sounded like Tim had said that he’d go back to his house to sleep and not just that he’d head upstairs.

Present Dick was still too tired to try to fully parse out that confusion so he left it to future Dick to figure out and settled into the security of Tim’s presence. He finally felt relaxed enough to fall asleep without tears dampening his pillow and to stay asleep without nightmares haunting his dreams. 

----

It was harder to be vulnerable in the light of day and both brothers were tempted to apologize for what happened the night before, but they settled for quiet thanks after seeing their anxieties mirrored in the other’s eyes. The rare peace was interrupted when Alfred came with news of breakfast being served in the sunroom. Dick was so torn because he ached for some of Alfred’s waffles, but that also meant having to deal with Bruce. Eventually, the grumbling in his stomach won out and they all headed upstairs. 

“Hey B,” Tim said softly as they walked into the room. Dick regretted his decision almost immediately when he saw Bruce glaring at him from his position at the head of the table. The whole situation was made worse by the fact that eating waffles and reading with Bruce in the sunroom was one of Dick’s favorite memories from growing up. The jarring disparity efficiently tamped down Dick’s appetite. After choosing the seat furthest from his former father, Dick let his mind wander as he picked at the supposedly delicious food. 

Tim, for his part, had chosen a chair that split the difference between the estranged father and son and tried to make conversation. He gave up after being ignored for the fifth time though, and Dick’s heart clenched with guilt at the rejected look that Tim tried to mask, but talking still hurt and Dick wasn’t about to waste any more words on Bruce. 

Dick excused himself as soon as feasibly polite, even though he had hardly eaten any food, and practically bolted back down to the BatCave. He had been tempted to go to his old bedroom and hide in his closet like he had when he was younger, but he didn’t know what became of his bedroom after he left and he didn’t want to find out. Seeing it gone would be the last nail in the coffin of his relationship with his father. He didn’t want to know that Bruce hated him so much that he didn’t want to have a place for Dick to stay. 

Dick eyed his bike and considered just leaving and going back to ‘Haven, but decided against it so Tim didn’t think Dick was trying to ditch him. Eventually, he settled on going back to the medbay to quietly test his vitals. He figured they would’ve already tested for soot buildup in his airway and determined if he needed more intensive treatment, but Dick was mainly just looking for something to take his mind off things. And maybe he’d be able to convince Bruce to let them go after the Red Hood tonight so Dick didn’t have to spend any more time here than necessary. 

As Alfred had a habit of doing, he appeared soon after Dick got to the medbay. He pulled out some equipment and gestured for Dick to sit down on the bed he used last night. Alfred ran through the same steps he did last night before moving them to a treadmill to test Dick’s oxygen levels and other vitals while under stress. They didn’t speak the whole time and Dick was grateful for the comforting silence. 

They went back to the med back and Dick spoke up as he plopped back down onto the bed, “So what’s the prognosis?” 

Alfred gave him a look diagnosing him as a dumbass before calmly saying, “Master Dick, you are lucky you’re so active. You have strong a heart and lungs, so it could’ve been much worse.” Dick gave Alfred an apologetic look, but he didn’t regret what he did.

“So I’m all cleared to go out tonight?” Dick asked hopefully.

Alfred fixed him with another long-suffering look, “I would advise against it, Master Dick. Your voice is an indication of the damage you suffered, as is you passing out last night.”

That was not what Dick wanted to hear, “Well, to be fair, part of me passing out was definitely from exhaustion, but I got like five hours of sleep last night so I’m all good now.” 

Apparently, that wasn’t the right thing to say because the look Alfred gave him was withering. “As I said, I would not advise that you perform any strenuous tasks in the immediate future.”

“Advise you say? So you’re not outright banning it? Ehh, that works for me.”

How did Alfred put up with any of them? Alfred was definitely exasperated now, “Since your skin isn’t blue or red and your vitals are within reasonable ranges, I will stop at strongly discouraging you from going after the Red Hood, but,” Alfred’s face now looked more sorrowful and understanding, “I know how anxious you are to be done with this, so no, I will not ban you from Nightwing even though I think you should not go out.”

“Thanks, Alfred.” Dick knew he shouldn’t be pushing this, and that he probably definitely should not be going out as Nightwing, or even as Officer Grayson, and especially not against someone as dangerous as the Red Hood, but being around Bruce was driving him crazy.

Alfred gave him a fatherly squeeze on his shoulder and a brief nod before tidying up and heading back upstairs leaving Dick alone with his thoughts. And Jason.

“You really are an idiot, you know that?”

“Hey, Little Wing.” Dick was all argued out at the moment. “Thank you, by the way. For helping me save Ellie.”

Jason scoffed, “You know you did all the work.” 

Dick shook his head, “No, I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Jason moved to fiddle with some random medical instrument before responding in a softer tone than usual, “I’m glad you’re not dead. B didn’t need to lose another son.”

Dick once again shook his head, “B wouldn’t have cared like he did with you. Your death broke him, but he can hardly stand being in the same room as me. The only reason I’m here is because of the Red Hood. The guy nearly killed Tim and even though B doesn’t treat Tim the same, I think the parallels still have him rattled. Why else would he call me after nothing for so long?’ Dick laughed sadly, “You know, I had almost hoped that he’d wanna makeup or something, but I know for sure that he doesn’t love me anymore. All he’s done since I got here is glare at me. You and Tim getting hurt hurt him, and I don’t want his pity, but he doesn’t act the same way about me. He’s worried about everyone else if I’m hurt because that means I might get other people hurt.”

Jason didn’t really know what to say to that so he settled for nothing at all. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both reliving their traumas. At least they had each other to lean on.

Chapter Text

“What the hell, Bruce? Even Alfred said I could go out tonight!”

“He strongly discouraged it and I looked at the reports myself and determined that you’re still too much of a liability. We’ll do periodic check-ins, but you’re benched for now.”

Dick was fuming. Bruce had hunted him down just to ruin his day. “Fine. I’m going back to ‘Haven. I’ll send you my reports and you can just tell me when they’re finally up to your sky-high standards.” The venom in Dick’s words was clear and he began gathering up his things so he could get out of here asap.

“Not happening.”

“Excuse me??” Dick spit out incredulously, “What do you mean not happening? Since when have you been against just dumping me in ‘Haven to fend for myself? It’s April for crying out loud! I went months. Months! Without hearing from you and then you go and force me here to be your little soldier again before deciding against it? And now you won’t even let me leave??”

“You have an ulterior motive and can easily tamper with the results of your tests. You’ll stay here where I can oversee your testing myself.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me! Seriously??”

“We’re done talking about this. I’ll be back in a few hours for a follow-up test.”

“Oh no. You don’t get to pull that shit with me anymore. I’m not some helpless child. I don’t live in your house and you’re not my dad. You don’t get to force me to stay here and then declare your word as law.”

“I believe I said that we’re done here.” Bruce turned and went back upstair leaving a livid Dick about ready to implode. 

----

“I’d ask if you want a sparring partner but you might be more intimidating than Hood.” That startled Dick from the brutal rhythm he’d been keeping for the last 2 hours. 

“What?” Dick spluttered, after recovering from a bout of ragged coughs, certain he’d heard Tim wrong.

“I said that I like my chances better with the Hood with the way you’re going at that sparring dummy. And also you should take a break. I don’t think Bruce would appreciate you pushing so hard when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“Oh screw Bruce.” Tim faltered the smallest amount at the bite in Dick’s voice but recovered quickly.

“Come on, 5 minutes. Drink some water, and then you can get back to it if you really want.”

Now that he’d broken from his enraged stupor, Dick could feel how much his body was protesting, so he accepted defeat and walked over to take the water bottle from Tim’s extended hand.

They sat down on the edge of training mats and let the silence settle for a few minutes while Dick caught his breath. The quiet felt nice but Dick’s guilt was gnawing at him, “Sorry,” he said.

Tim was beginning to sense a trend with Dick, but he’d be a hypocrite if he called him out for it so he simply asked, “For what?”

“It’s my fault that we’re still not going after the Hood.”

“Hood can wait. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“How can you be so calm about this? After…” Dick subconsciously glanced at the scar on Tim’s neck as he trailed off, not sure if he should voice his thoughts.

“After he brutally attacked me, slit my throat, and left me for dead?”

“Uhh, yeah, that.” The way Tim talked about it confused Dick, but he couldn’t place exactly how.

“I mean, it’s not like I’ve forgiven him for it or for any of the other awful stuff he’s done. I mean that duffle bag? That was messed up,” Tim paused for a moment, “but he also deals with things in a way that they kind of need to be sometimes. I support Bruce in his no killing rule, but sometimes, some things, some people,” a touch of bitterness crept into Tim’s words at that, “just need a different kind of person in charge. He’s made Crime Alley and the rest of the territory he’s claimed safer for the most vulnerable groups. 

“With the exception of me, he’s never hurt a child and he helps the working girls and anyone else who needs it. I don’t know why he went after me, but I’m sure he had his reasons, and I also know that if he really wanted me dead, I would be.” Something dark danced in Tim’s eyes as they replayed some of the worst moments of his life. Then, more to himself than Dick, “It was almost like he was testing me really.”

Dick didn’t know what to do or say. Tim had every right to be bitter and hateful towards his torturer, but he possessed a far more nuanced and understanding view than the rest of them, and the comment about the Red Hood testing Tim really left him clueless. What would some random crime lord want with the new Robin? “Geeze kid; what moisturizer do you use to be old enough to be so wise but still look so young?” 

Tim grinned at that and punched him playfully in the arm. “Actually I found the fountain of youth. I had plenty of alone time to hunt for it growing up.” 

“You got any to spare? I’m getting wrinkles in my old age.”

“Dude! You’re only like 35, you’re fine.” Tim joked.

Dick mock gasped, “I’m scandaled! I’ll have you know I’m only 23!” he pronounced, before grabbing both of Tim’s shoulders and turning toward him with a joking urgency, “See? We may already be too late! I need your entire stash of youth juice. Pronto!”

They broke down into giggles, arms hanging off each other's shoulders. Their laughter renewed each time they looked at each other and it took them a long time to calm down.

Eventually, Tim composed himself enough to talk, “I don’t know about you, but I’m honestly starving.” 

“Mmm yeah, plus I can never turn down Alfred’s cooking.”

“Seriously, I always love it when I have an excuse to be here for it. You go shower, no offense but you kinda stink, and I’ll meet you upstairs. You got any requests?”

“I’m happy to just have any of his cooking, so I’m good with whatever. Also, how dare you insinuate that I would smell like anything other than a refreshing summer breeze after working out for several hours.”

Tim snorted as he stood up, holding out his hand to help pull Dick to his feet. His muscles groaned in protest, but it was the satisfying ache of hard work and had helped bring him down after his fight with Bruce, so he wasn’t complaining. “I’ll see you upstairs, Baby Bird!” Dick called out as he headed for the showers.

Tim laughed again and called back his acknowledgment. 

---

Dick joined Tim in the kitchen 15 minutes later where they hovered while Alfred made them sandwiches before heading to the TV room to waste a few more hours. Dick had been hesitant to spend so much time up in the Manor, but Bruce had thankfully steered clear of them and even let Alfred be the one to do Dick’s evening tests; which looked promising if Dick did say so himself. 

Tim had taunted Dick while he was running on the treadmill by mimicking Darth Vader the whole time. Dick had to admit that the kid knew an impressive amount of quotes, but it didn’t save him from getting knuckled in the head when Dick was able. They enjoyed a peaceful dinner together, opting for the Cave after Alfred informed them that Master Bruce was eating in the dining room and that they could join him if they so desired. Tim excused himself to go do homework leaving Dick to his own devices until he hopefully managed to fall asleep. 

---

After several fruitless hours of trying to sleep, Dick eventually gave up and snuck upstairs to make himself something small to eat figuring that everyone would be asleep and he’d therefore be safe to use Alfred’s kitchen. 

He turned on the light to the kitchen as he walked in, “GAHHH! Don’t do that!!” Dick clutched his heart in surprise.

“Do what?” Tim looked genuinely worried at having done something wrong.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.” He paused to laugh lightly at his cowardice before carrying on, “What’re you doing anyway?”

“I was out of coffee, but I’m only halfway through an essay, so I came here to get some. What’re you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d make an omelet or something.”

“You? Cook?”

“Why does everyone ask that?,” Dick gestured at Tim accusingly with the spatula he’d pulled out, “Yes, me cook. I’ll have you know that I am a master at Top Ramen.”

“How reassuring,” Tim responded dryly.

Dick just shook his head with amusement, “So, omelet: do you want any?”

“Oh no. No thank you. I’ve heard the horror stories.”

Dick glared at Tim, “We literally just went over this! I can cook basic things! I’m not dead yet am I?”

“Hmm, still doubtful, but okay.” Tim grinned cheekily at Dick before returning his focus to the coffee machine like he could make it brew faster with just the power of his mind. Maybe he could, Dick mused, Tim did seem to have a special connection with coffee. 

Dick settled in to chop some peppers and onions and sauteed them before cracking his eggs and beginning to cook them. A few minutes later, he approached Tim with their food. “So maybe more of fancy scrambled eggs than omelets,” he said sheepishly, “but they’re definitely still edible and that’s what matters.” 

Tim snorted as he accepted his bowl. “You know, not half bad, though it could use something spicy.”

“Like red pepper flakes?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, or like siracha or something. I think Alfred has some somewhere.”

“Alfred probably has every food somewhere,” Dick said in mock contempt.

“I mean yeah, probably, he is Alfred after all.” Tim laughed.

Dick really liked Tim’s laugh. It made his face light up and Dick got the feeling that he didn’t have many opportunities to laugh. He made a mental note for future Dick to continue the trend of getting Tim to laugh and took a bite of his own dish. “Oh, you’re right. This does need sriracha, or maybe some salsa.”

“Mmmm, that would be good too,” Tim readily agreed. 

They ate in peace for a few more minutes and worked together to clear away any incriminating evidence of their late-night activities before Tim fill up a concerningly large thermos with coffee and grabbed his keys off the counter. “Well, I’m off to finish that essay. Good luck getting some sleep.”

“You too man, have a good night.” And with that, they went their separate ways. It wasn’t until Dick was nearly asleep before the thought crossed his mind. “Wait, why did Tim have keys with him?” He was too tired to dwell on it though and he soon drifted off.

Chapter Text

Dick wasn’t sure if Alfred had gotten involved or something; he knew he must’ve been driving him up the walls though, so he wouldn’t put it past him. The point was that Bruce had finally caved and decided that they could go after the Red Hood that night. 

It had been several days since their last briefing, and it would be at a different warehouse anyways, so they gathered for another quick rundown before heading out. Everyone was aware of how dangerous tonight would be and they were anxious to get on with it. The right amount of nerves could give an extra boost of awareness and speed, but sitting on them for too long tended to have diminishing returns. 

----

Oracle was on comms and Batman, Robin, and Nightwing were hiding in the shadows of the warehouse rafters. The Red Hood was supposed to be accepting a weapons shipment here tonight and the plan was to wait until it was completed to go after Hood. There would be fewer people around and those still there would be relaxing a bit once the deal had gone through. Robin would plant a tracker on their car if he got the chance, and there was the chance of getting some weapons off the streets, but Hood was the priority tonight.

“Wasn’t the deal supposed to go down at midnight?” Robin whispered into his comms.

“There’s not any sign of movement in the nearby warehouses,” Oracle added.

Batman growled, “Oracle, did we get something wrong? Time or location?” 

She sounded uncertain when she respond, “I don’t think so.”

“Something’s wrong.” Nightwing’s warning slipped out the same time Oracle said, “Shoot. Batman, I’m being blocked. Someone’s interfering with my--” They got the idea, but she cut out before she could finish.

Everyone tensed suddenly and the Red Hood’s mechanical laugh rung out cruelly as he stepped from the shadows; apparently surprise wasn’t on their side. 

He spread his arms before declaring, “Well, well, well, the whole family’s here! I’m honored. Why don’t you come on down and join the party?”

His tone left no room for debate and there was no point in hiding any longer so they complied. Hood arms crossed and planted his feet in an intentionally casual pose as he waited for them. He still emanated hatred though, and the bats didn’t drop their guard as they gathered in front of him.

He turned his attention on Tim, the disdain in his voice growing, “Back for more so soon, Replacement?” The title confused Dick, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. He had felt Tim still and could see the fear in the rigid lines of his little brother’s body, but his fear didn’t show when he flipantly responded, “Nah, just on garbage duty tonight. Here to clean up some trash.”

“Oh is that so?” Hood laughed darkly, “Last time I checked, Batsy wasn’t doing a very good job of that. That’s why I had to step in.”

“What you’re doing is wrong, Hood. Killing isn’t the way.” Batman was tense and ready to fight.

“No,” he growled, “It isn’t your way, Old Man,” venom practically dripped from his words, “Some people are past saving. Some people deserve to die, and if you’re too weak to admit that, then I think it’s time you step down.”

“I think you’re the one who needs to back down, Hood.”

“Well then, it appears that we’re at an impasse.” He turned his attention behind them, “Boys, you know the drill.”

All the goons they’d been expecting for the weapons exchange materialized from the shadows. How had they missed them? But that didn’t matter anymore; all that mattered was they were there and they were coming fast. 

Now was the time for action and reaction, not thinking. Dick had been doing that his whole life and settled easily into the well trained motions of combat. He flipped backwards to give himself space to make decisions and pulled out his escrima. 

Three henchmen broke off and went after Nightwing and he lost track of everything except fighting. The left guy, Mustache, was closest so Dick whipped out with his escrima and caught Mustache’s punch by crossing them before sliding his left arm perpendicular across his right escrima and delivering a punch of his own to Mustache’s nose. He stumbled and fell over as blood began dripping into his mustache, which Dick had to admit he found fitting.

Spinning to the right and hooking his left esrcima around the back of the middle henchman’s neck, Nightwing used its pressure to double the man over and kneed him hard in the stomach while simultaneously releasing his hold on him to let him reel backwards before helping him along with an elbow to the face. 

A Batarang whirled past his face which brought his attention to the third man. Batman had noticed that he’d gotten too close for comfort and a quick slice to the upper arm gave Nightwing the time he needed to flip back towards his old mentor. They made eye contact briefly and it said everything they needed to know to go after the last standing opponent of either’s three. Dick really had missed fighting alongside Bruce. 

So that was three for Dick, and three for Bruce which left two for Tim. Dick liked those odds so he focused back in on Mustache to taze him before he could fully recover. 

“You’re missing something,” Jason’s voice taunted from all sides and Dick whirled around, searching. He found Robin on a catwalk above them and the Red Hood leveling a pistol on him.

He shot Tim in the stomach before any of them could react. He reeled backwards and weakly caught himself on the guardrail. Hood charged towards Robin and used his shoulder to ram into him and send him flying to the ground below. 

“ROBIN!!!” The scream ripped at Dick’s abused throat but he ignored the burn as he rushed to the aid of his little brother, images of his parents’ death overlapping with the scene unfolding in front of him. How could Dick be such an idiot? Of course Hood would go after Robin! He might even decide to finish the job this time.

Hood vaulted off the railing and landed hard before stalking towards Robin and standing over him. The cruel sneer in Hood’s mechanical voice rang clear as his heavy boot crushed out what little air was left in Tim’s lungs. “You really shouldn’t have come back, Replacement. I let you off easy last time, but now you’ve gone and really pissed me off.” There was that nickname again. Replacement?

 Act now, think later. Don’t get distracted. Don’t prove Batman right. Don’t let another Robin die. 

Dick had already been running towards them and used his forward momentum to add more force to his kick as he jumped and twisted to nail Hood right in the head and send him sprawling. Nightwing landed in a crouch and was about to go after Hood, but his escrima slipped in his hand when he whipped them out. He looked down to see his hands covered in blood from when he’d placed them on the ground. That shook him from his fury and he turned back to his unconscious little brother hoping it wasn’t too late. 

“-In. Come In! Can anyone here me?” Oracle had managed to break through the signal jammer and just in the nick of time.

“We read you, Oracle. Have Agent A get the medbay ready. Robin’s badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.” Dick was panicking and trying to put pressure on Tim’s bullet wound while trying to assess any other damage, so he was eternally grateful when Batman took over comms. 

“What the hell happened?” Babs understandably sounded really worried.

“We’ll explain later. Batman out.”

“Come on Nightwing.” Batman was talking to him now, “Stablize his spine and lets go.”

“What about Hood?” he asked, glancing over to where he was laying unconscious.

“I’ve already signalled GCPD; we’ll just have to hope they’ll be enough because we don’t have the time to spare.”

The reminder of urgency of the situation shook Dick from his shock and he began prepping Tim for transport with the lightweight braces they had for extreme emergencies such as this. They weren’t much, but Dick hoped it would be enough. 

Dick barely held it together on the racing ride back to the Cave, but he forced himself to so he could pay attention to Tim’s vitals and keep pressure on his wound. Dick managed to make it to the showers after passing Tim’s limp body off to Alfred before shutting down. He might lose another brother tonight and he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

Chapter Text

Dick was numb to the world and he hated it, but he knew that everything would come crashing down soon enough. It was the calm before the storm. His thoughts were spiraling and cruel as he stood unmoving under the shower stream. He couldn’t even tell what temperature the water was. Everything felt distant and disconnected. The blood had long washed off him and down the drain, but it was still swirling in his mind. Waves of crimson and despair rolled over him.

This was his fault. Maybe Hood wouldn’t have been able to ambush them if they’d just gone that first night. Dick had wasted precious time and now he was paying the price for it. Except, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t the one clinging to life in the medbay. Dick didn’t know how long it had been. He didn’t know if Tim was actually still alive. A few tears slipped out at the thought and the dam broke. 

He let out choking sobs, “I can’t. I can’t. It’s m-my fault. I can’t.” The pain of everyone he’d lost clawed at him, dragging him into the undercurrent. He was getting dizzy from lack of oxygen. But he was alone, there wasn’t anyone to talk him down this time, and his nerves were too fried to try to do it himself. 

Dick punched the shower wall and he let out a guttural scream before collapsing against it and sliding to the ground. “Why do I always lose everyone? Why can’t it be me instead?” His breaths were ragged and shallow and he begged to any being listening,  “J just take me instead! P-please!” 

Dick descended further into the chaos of his mind until he didn’t even know whether the images flashing before his eyes were real or not. He cowered in the corner of the shower, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of death surrounding him, and sobbed.

Suddenly there were hands pulling him from the shower floor and wrapping a towel around him before a firm hold settled on either of his shoulders. “Come on, chum. You’re okay. Deep breaths. It’s okay.” Bruce?? That startled him enough to force a gasping breath into his lungs. “Breathe. You can do it in. In and out. You’re okay.”

Bruce guided Dick from his panic and he let out a shuddering sob as his vision cleared back to that of the shower room. He clung to his father. “I can’t do it, B-bruce. I c-can’t do this an- an-ymore.”

Bruce simply rubbed his back and held him. “I know. I know. It’ll be okay though. Just breathe. You’ll be okay.” Bruce’s words and hold were grounding taking Dick back to when he was younger. Hood’s laugh was still ringing in his ears, but, for the first time in a long time, his father was there to help him fight back the demons. 

----

Tim had been laying unconscious on that bed for 2 days and Dick was coming apart at the seams with overflowing guilt. If he’d just been faster, better. If it had just been him instead, then everything would’ve been okay. 

He eventually drifted off, but he didn’t move from his spot by Tim’s bed and quickly woke up when he heard Tim’s low moan. He wasn’t fully conscious yet, but he was clearly in a lot of pain, so Dick stood to add more morphine to the IV drip and gently grabbed Tim’s hand as he sat back down. A few minutes later, Tim sluggishly rolled his head in Dicks direction. “Hey,” he rasped out with a small but intentionally reassuring smile. 

Dick returned it, “Hey yourself.”

Tim took a moment to fight through the fog in his brain, “So what’s a guy gotta do to get some coffee around here? I feel like death.” The joking was a good sign and made Dick’s heart clench with relief. 

“That’s because you nearly died, idiot. Of course, coffee would be the first thing you ask about. You’ve literally been unconscious for 2 days. Maybe try recovering a bit first.” They both knew Dick was just being grumpy to cover up his relief, but Tim did really want coffee.

“Awww comeon,” he lightly whined. “Aren’t I supposed to get a last meal or something?”

“That’s only for if you’re dying, which you thankfully aren’t, and even then, it’s only for death-row inmates.”

“Hmph. Worth a try. Well if you’re gonna ban me from caffeine, then I’m gonna go back to sleep now.”

“You do that, Baby Bird. I’ll be here if you need me.” Dick settled back into his chair a little bit more than before, comforted by Tim’s quips, and returned to keeping vigil over his little brother as he rested. 

On second thought, he should go tell Bruce that Tim had woken up. It was the least he could do after what happened in the showers a couple of days ago. They still hadn’t talked about it, but it honestly would’ve worried Dick more if they had. Emotions and communication had never been Bruce’s strong suit. He pushed himself out of the chair with a groan, his muscles protesting after being in the same position for so long. 

----

It took a while to find him, but Dick eventually found Bruce tucked away in a random study. He had his laptop out and papers were scattered all around him and Dick assumed it was just WE work at first. “Tim woke up, I figured you’d want to kn--” Dick saw the contents of Bruce’s screen and his voice grew sharp as he asked the question he already knew the answer to, “Bruce, what’re you doing?”

“Looking for intel on Red Hood. He was gone by the time GCPD got there; left his goons behind though,” Bruce hardly spared a glance at his eldest son, staring intently at his screen instead. “How’s Tim?”

“He’s fine; sleeping again.” Dick was exasperated at Bruce’s apparent pass time, and while he could understand the need for a distraction, he couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice as he added, “Which you would know if you had bothered to see him since the fight.”

“Me worrying over him isn’t going to make him heal any faster.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I need to figure out where Hood went and how he found out about our ambush in the first place.”

“Bruce that doesn’t matter! You have a son who needs you right now. Maybe try actually being there for him?” Dick didn’t add that Bruce actually had two sons who needed him right now. 

“Something went wrong. I can be there for Tim by figuring out what.”

Dick slammed Bruce’s laptop shut and Bruce finally made eye contact with him. “You wanna know what went wrong, Bruce?” Was Bruce seriously so thickheaded that he couldn’t see what actually mattered? “Stuff goes wrong all the time. Hood is smart and we had a delay. It’s not surprising that he found out about our plans. That wasn’t the problem.” He was struggling to keep his voice calm.

Bruce’s voice dropped closer to his Batman growl now, “We were “delayed” because you weren’t fit to be in the field.”

Now it got down the heart of the matter. “And yet, you didn’t trust me even after you cleared me!”

Bruce had the galls to look scandalized at that which just pissed Dick off more, “Oh don’t give me that look! You know it’s true! And don’t try to turn it around.” Dick wasn’t going to back down now, “Stuff goes wrong in the field all the time, being able to adapt when that happens is one of the first things you taught me.

“It didn’t matter that Hood knew we were coming. He was there and the plan had always been for you to go after him with Tim and I provided backup. But when it came down to it, you didn’t trust me. You stuck around me to make sure I didn’t drop the ball and let Tim get cornered by Red Hood.”

“How dare you insinuate that this is my fault!”

“It is your fault, Bruce! What happened to Tim is as much on you as it is on Hood! You wanna know what went wrong? What went wrong is that you can’t trust people even when our lives depend on it!  All your contingency plans and suspicions are what got us here. I held my own. I was fine, but you didn’t trust that I’d be able to! If you weren’t gonna trust me to do my job, then why’d you even call me in to do it?” 

Bruce didn’t have a response for that. His face was stony, and Dick knew that he’d just ignore everything that had been said because it didn’t matter whether he was Batman or Bruce. He was the only one he’d ever trust and the only one he’d ever truly listen to.

“Don’t call me again, Bruce. I’m done.” He walked out of the room and let the door slam behind him with a twisting sense of finality.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Baby Bird, I’m really sorry to wake you.” Dick roused Tim from his drugged-up sleep.

“Hmm, what? What’s going on?” Tim was squinting against the light, so Dick moved to block the harshest rays and Tim focused a bit on him. “Dick? Everything okay?”

Dick didn’t really feel like getting into what had just happened so he brushed off Tim’s question, “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

That got Tim’s attention, “What? Why’re you leaving?” The worry and disappointment were clear in his face and words and the guilt tugged at Dick and screamed at him to stay, but he’d suffocated if he stayed here any longer.

“Something came up. I’m really sorry. I just wanted to check in before I went.”

“Do you have to go now?” The unguarded hope in Tim’s eyes nearly crushed Dick. He knew Tim would never normally be so vulnerable, and he couldn’t bring himself to say no. With a slightly dejected sigh, he slumped back down into a chair. “Yeah, okay. I can spare a few minutes.”

“Mmm, that’s good.” Tim was struggling to stay conscious now. “I like having you around. Always wanted a big brother.”

“Heh, yeah kid. I like having you around too. Maybe we can have a sleepover in Blüdhaven after you’re better?”

“Really? Can I come like next week?” There was that hopeful voice again. Dick seriously needed to work on his relationship with Tim. He needed to stop letting his problems with Bruce get in the way.

“It’s maybe gonna be a little longer than that. You fractured a femur and several ribs, and you got shot in the stomach.”

Tim grimaced at the reminder, “Oh yeah. So in like two weeks then?”

Dick laughed the smallest bit at that, “Something like that. I gotta go now okay? But text or call me anytime. I’m here for you, okay?”

“Mmm, okay Dickie. Love you.”

Dick wasn’t sure he heard that correctly, and was almost certain Tim wouldn’t remember saying it, but he responded anyway, “Love you too.”

Chapter Text

“You feeling better?” The inquiry pulled Dick from his thoughts. Desk work was hard to focus on on a good day, and he hadn’t exactly had any of those recently.

“Sorry what?” Dick sheepishly asked. Jenny was one of his more tolerable coworkers and had always been friendly to him.

“Your butler or something called in and said you were sick. So, are you feeling better? Also, you have a butler?”

Dick had honestly forgotten that he would need to call into work. He could hardly tell the difference between days anymore, so thank goodness for Alfred. “Oh, uhh, yeah. He’s not my butler exactly, but yeah, not sick anymore. Healthy as a horse.” Dick’s hands gestured down his body in an apparent display of his health and he gave her an awkward smile as she gave him a skeptical once over.

“Glad to hear it, but you still look like shit.” One of the reasons Dick liked her was how honest and to-the-point she was—even if he was embarrassed by the call-out. “As such,” she firmly set a cup on his desk, “Coffee.” Now he remembered another reason why he liked her.

He blew out an exhausted puff of air and ran his hands down his face before gratefully accepting the offering. “Thanks, Jenny. You’re the best.”

“You look like death… I also need help on a case and you’re easy to bribe.”

That startled a small laugh out of Dick. “That I am.” He took one more moment to try to focus before settling in, “How can I help?” Jenny jumped right into it, and they spent the rest of the day working on a robbery from a few nights ago. It may not have cleared the fog from his brain, but it did distract him from his other thoughts and for that he was grateful.

As the day wrapped up, Jenny got on Dick’s case, not unkindly, to get some sleep and come back to work looking less like death tomorrow. He brushed her off with a polite, if not somewhat mirthless, laugh and told her he’d do his best. It didn’t seem like he’d get the chance though, because Jason was waiting for Dick as he walked out of the precinct and seemed intent on reminding Dick of all his shortcomings. Dick did his best to ignore him, but the tirade was unrelenting and showed no sign of slowing in the coming days.

--

“You weren’t mad at Bruce for sticking by you during the fight. He was right not to trust you. He saved your ass and you’re only mad at him now because you don’t want to accept that it was your fault. Even worse, he was only looking for Hood instead of sitting with Tim because you let Hood get away.”

--

“You coulda done so much good if you’d just been better.”

--

“You really are the worst.”

--

“Your parents had the right idea—getting away from you at the first opportunity—you really are unbearable.”

--

“Bruce was actually willing to forgive you even after everything you did. He called you back to work with him and look what you did. Tim’s hurt--that’s your fault. Bruce is probably running himself ragged--also your fault. And you didn’t even say goodbye to Alfred.”

--

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re so self-righteous. You were an idiot about it, but at least your “family” won’t have to deal with you anymore.”

--

The only reason Bruce took you in was because you reminded him of himself. Too bad your parents dying is where the similarities end.”

--

“It should’ve been you. It should’ve always been you.”

--

“You can’t do anything right. It’s your fault that you have no one. The people that you haven’t run off, you’ve gotten killed.”

“Oh, just shut up! We’ve been over this enough times already. I know! I know it’s my fault! I know I’m the problem, I know I’m the failure!” It had been a week since Dick had walked out of the Manor and he may just be doing worse than Tim right now. Jason had been relentless, and he knew he deserved it, but Dick was getting sick of having those facts constantly hammered into his head.

Jason disappeared after that, but that drove home his parting message and left Dick feeling even lonelier. “It’s your fault that you have no one.” He would’ve been spiraling enough from just the events last week, but it was approaching the end of April and that was never a good time for him.

----

Things were just getting worse as the 27th crept closer. Dick was hardly sleeping, and what little sleep he did get was plagued by Jason; as was the usual, especially this time of year. This year, however, freshly burned images of Tim and Red Hood danced in his mind providing more fuel for his nightmares and twisting with his other failures to create new horrors that had him waking up screaming every night.

He was honestly surprised that he hadn’t gotten a visit from his landlord toting along countless noise complaints with them but as surprising as it may be, Dick wasn’t about to complain about the lack of warnings and fines. Maybe he wasn’t as vocal as he thought he was and his screams were still mostly contained in the same realm as his nightmares. “I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore,” he said with a shake of his head, the fact that he was talking to himself made him cringe wryly and proved his point.

The days dragged on, each one more entrenched in the angry memories and twisting concoctions of what-ifs, and on the morning of the 27th, his resolve to just suffer through it all broke.

“I can’t do this anymore. If you’re listening, Little Wing, I’m really sorry. You deserve better than this and today should be about you, not me and all my issues, but it-” he cut himself off, drawing in a shaky breath, “it’s all just too much right now. I’m really sorry.” Doing his best to ignore the demons taunting him for his cowardice, he grabbed his keys and headed out in hopes of respite.

Chapter Text

“Heya Milk Man!” Oh crap. It was Daisy again. He really hadn’t felt like being reminded of another of his screw-ups today, but of course, he would be; they were just too prevalent to reasonably avoid them.

“Uhh, hi Daisy,” Dick mumbled in response, “How’ve you been?” Daisy looked a little taken aback at him knowing her name before shrugging it and his question off.

“Oh, you know, trying not to drown in college debt. What about you?” She then glanced between Dick and his groceries before giving him a brief look of pity. “You having a party?” She asked even though she looked like she already knew the answer.

Dick’s laugh was slightly more bitter than he intended. “Yeah, something like that.”

“You know, can’t say I blame you,” she carried on, “Alcohol’s a hell of a lot cheaper than therapy.” She grinned at him. Dick appreciated it, but all he could manage was a brief half smile. She seemed to understand what he was feeling because she didn’t look hurt by his lack of enthusiasm. “Well, you gotta know that I trust you to not lie to me, but company policy says I need to ask for an ID if you don’t look like a grumpy old man, and while you got the grumpy part down, you’re lacking a tad in the wrinkles department.”

That comment got a bit more of a reaction out of Dick and he reached into his wallet to pull out his driver’s license with a full-blown small smile. “Here you go, I promise I’m over 21.”

Daisy hardly looked at it before declaring something about plausible deniability in case he was lying and how he looked like he needed it anyway. “Well Richard, payback for reading my name, by the way, I hope you enjoy your party of one, even though you should definitely still invite at least one person over, and I hope that whatever’s got you buying all this gets better soon.”

Dick continued to be taken by surprise at her seemingly genuine kindness, but he wasn’t going to say no to it. “Heh, it’s Dick if you really want to know, and thank you, seriously.”

“What?? No, you’re not! You’ve always been an absolute gentleman to me.” She gave him another joking grin and he rolled his eyes with amusement as he grabbed his bags and headed home.

----

“What the hell??” The voice sounded confused and maybe even a little concerned. Dick turned to find its source squinting against the bright kitchen light before the figure moved to block it.

“Little Wing!!” Dick moved to get off the couch before deciding that it was definitely not a good idea. “Hi!! I’ve missed you ya know.” Jason’s expression darkened slightly.

“So this is what you get up to while I’m gone?” he snarked, “You really are pathetic Dickface.” Dick grimaced something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“It’s complicated; I don’t—,” Dick cut himself off with a tired sigh, “How’ve you been?”

Jason looked briefly confused before recovering his wit, “Oh, you know, dead.”

“Heh, right yeah; it’s not like you let me forget it.”

Apparently, confusion was the theme for tonight, but Jason guessed he shouldn’t be all that surprised based on the empty bottles surrounding Dick.

“What the hell are you doing anyway? Last time I checked, you were too much of a goodie-two-shoes to really drink--basically, only at galas and stuff, and even then,” he paused to gesture at their surroundings and Dick, “never like this.”

Dick simply responded in what Jason could only assume was some attempt at a shrug. Jason picked his way closer to Dick, flipping on a light switch as he did. Dick recoiled at the sudden brightness, squeezing his eyes shut against the intrusion. “What’d’ou do that for?” He slurred.

“So, I don’t die ya, idiot. Again.” Jason could’ve been wrong, but he thought he saw Dick flinch at that, “Have you seen this place?”

Dick sluggishly looked around before settling his eyes back on Jason, “Yeah?” His eyes focused more on Jason in confusion, “I like the, the, umm…” He ran his hand through his own hair mirroring the strip of white in Jason’s, “Skunk.” Dick settled back into the couch, appearing satisfied with his communications skills.

Jason rolled his eyes in annoyance and exasperation, “Is that really all you have to say about this whole thing? I know you’re wasted, but damn.”

Looking suddenly very concerned, Dick exclaimed, “Did I not say I missed you?” then more to himself, “I really thought I said that part out loud.”

All Jason could do was sigh. He moved over to his big brother, who was amusingly no longer bigger than him and tried to haul him off the couch. “Nooooo,” Dick moaned, “Too spinny, I wanna stay here. Sleeppppp.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Dickface. You’re gonna feel even more like shit if you sleep here instead of your bed. I’ve slept in some pretty hellish places, and I still wouldn’t want to sleep on this pathetic excuse of a couch.”

Dick glared at that, mumbling something about Jason’s audacity to insult his couch, but still became more pliable to Jason’s attempts at moving them.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

Dick helpfully didn’t answer Jason’s question, instead asking, “Does this count as a hug? You haven’t hugged me in like yearrrrrs.”

“That’s what happens when you fucking die, Dickface,” Jason growled.

Dick remained uncowed, giggling and chastising him for his language, “What would Alfred think Jay?”

Jason threw Dick at his bed more aggressively than strictly necessary, but give him a break, he’d been planning on a different type of confrontation when he decided to come over here after finding out that Dick was still working with the Bats, and Dick’s simple acceptance of his dead brother’s return was honestly pissing off his inner thespian.

“What is your problem? You’re just gonna accept that I’m back from the dead, and you’re not gonna question anything? No coincidences burning at your detective skills?”

“I missed you, Little Wing, it’s nice to have you back.” Dick poked at Jason’s bicep, “you’re so strong now,” then gasping, “Are you my big brother now??”

Jason sighed in exasperation for the thousandth time tonight and threw his arms up in defeat, “Fine, fine. I give up. You are way too drunk for anything right now. Go to bed before you make your brain explode or some shit like that.”

Dick giggled from where he had collapsed face-first into his pillow, “exploding brains,” then he rolled slightly to peer at Jason looking miles more sober and extremely worn down, “I’m sorry.”

Jason wasn’t ready to hear that, not after everything that’d happened, so he just grunted and pulled the covers over Dick before walking out of the room.

Chapter Text

Metal scraped against concrete and screams echoed through the warehouse. A bloodied Robin scrambled backward away from the terror and the pain. Joker’s cackle echoed through the rafters and Robin flinched. He knew what was coming, and all he could do was plead that it wouldn’t. 

Dick sobbed as the crunch of bones rung out. He dropped to his knees like his own legs had been smashed. He wanted to run to his little brother. To take this pain away from him, to take it on himself even, but he was frozen--held in place by his past failures and forced to watch as they would become his future ones.

Dick couldn’t watch this, he wrenches his eyes away from the gruesome scene, from the falling bodies, but his eyes shot back up at the gurgling whimpers. Robin lay frighteningly still, powerless against the monster towering over him. 

Dick finally broke from his burning bonds and ran to Jason, he cradled him in his arms and tried to shield him from the flashing horrors. He stares up in dreaded anticipation and the wicked smile flickers and blurs. Jason glares down at Dick before the Red Hood comes into sharp focus. Dick cowers from where he’s trying to protect his little brother. 

Jason whimpers weakly and Dick breaks his eyes away. He wipes blood from the corner of Tim’s mouth and whispers futile comfort to his dying brother. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. I’m here. You’re not alone. You’ll be okay.” They both know it’s a lie, but he says it anyway. 

Red Hood laughs as he turns and is swallowed by the shadows. Does Dick follow and leave Robin alone or does he stay and let the Joker live? Either way, he’s failed. He let another Robin die.

Death hung heavy in the air, the pain and guilt smoldering and eating at Dick’s body. Everything faded away and soon all that was left was the laughter. It echoed all around him and soon the accusing eyes joined it. Jason was dead, Tim nearly did. He still will if Dick doesn’t get there in time.

Dick tries to run, to escape his accusers and find his brother, but the inky darkness is sticky and pulls him in, Dick tries calling out, but the words are pushed back and his lungs fill with tar. He can’t breathe, he can’t see. He’s all alone, and so are his brothers. They needed him, he needed him, and he failed them all. Maybe it was better this way. Bruce may have lost his sons, but at least their killer was also dead. 

Dick woke with a start and clutched his head against the pain from suddenly sitting up. Groaning and trying to collect his thoughts, he looked around. Residuals from his nightmares were still swimming in his vision and eventually, he accepted that he wouldn’t be able to sort out reality for a while longer. He also acknowledged that shadows dancing in his periphery weren’t helping the panic that was trying to edge in, so, despite his body’s protest and the twinges of nausea, he pulled himself from bed and stumbled toward his kitchen. 

His brain was too muddled from the remnants of nightmares and alcohol to notice that his apartment had been cleaned as he got a glass of water, but he did notice something moving on his balcony when he turned around. Dick froze trying to steal himself for a confrontation then relaxed when he realized it was Jason. 

Jason who looked bigger? 

Brushing off the thought, he headed out to join his brother.

Jason turned when the door was eased open and nodded to Dick as way of greeting when he stepped out onto the balcony. Jason gave Dick a sidelong glance as he joined him in leaning against the railing, before shrugging and pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. 

“I haven’t seen you smoke since before you died. What brought it on now?” 

Jason gave him a weird look, “Don’t think it’ll do much to me anymore. Besides, I think I deserve a little something on this special day,” he responded dryly. 

Dick let out a choked laugh, “Yeah, I guess not.”

They stood there in silence for a while longer before Jason spoke up, “So earlier…”

Dick gave him a look of guilt, “So you were here for that?”

“Yeah, definitely saw that whole shitshow; it totally threw a wrench in my whole plan for the evening too.”

Dick looked positively stricken, “I’m so sorry,” he let his head fall in defeat, “I shouldn’t--this shouldn’t--ughhh, I don’t know. I’m just sorry, I guess. You’re the one who,” Dick nearly whispered the next words, like it was painful to say, “who died.” He paused to take in a shaky breath, “And here I am acting like--like,” he sighed in defeat and breathed out another apology, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself, but even saying that feels like it’s making it too much about myself.”

Jason really didn’t know what to say to that, so they lapsed back into silence, both lost in their thoughts. 

Eventually, Jason declared, “Well, I just stuck around to make sure you didn’t choke on your vomit in your sleep, so I’d better get going.”

“Oh, uhh yeah, thanks.” Dick sounded disappointed enough that Jason almost offered to stay longer, but Jason still had his death to mourn, and he had kinda built up a tradition in the past few years, so he jumped off the balcony and disappeared into the night leaving Dick with just the ghost of a grasp on his shoulder. 

Dick stayed out on the balcony for a while longer, until the chill grew too biting and he was forced to seek at least some form of refuge inside his lonely apartment. 

He tried to go back to bed but found himself holed up in his bathroom after an embarrassingly brief attempt at sleeping. Hangovers really were a bitch, and while he cursed the name of past Dick for not having better coping skills, he couldn’t find it in him to regret his actions yesterday. His rebelling insides were still better than the hot mess that his life had been recently, and the rolling nausea was actually nearly as effective a distraction as the alcohol had been in the first place. 

As more time passed with him still worshipping his toilet, however, he found his thoughts drifting back to when he was younger and how Bruce would come and rub his back when he was sick. Tears dripped down his face and he was struggling to breathe for a whole new reason as the weight of all that he’d lost pushed down on him. 

Apparently, hangovers from using alcohol to cope with a brother’s gruesome murder, after being completely alone for weeks on end, was a surefire way to make one feel like the loneliest guy in the world.

“Guess that’s what I get for estranging myself from my only living parental figure,” Dick didn’t know who he was talking to--didn’t even know if he was even talking to himself at this point--all he knew in that moment was that he felt so miserable and so alone. He tried to laugh it off but wasn’t very successful in between all the sobbing, dry heaving, and gasping for air. 

Dick was eventually able to peel himself off his cool bathroom floor and tiredly made his way to the kitchen. He had been intent on some water or something, but his phone buzzing on the counter caught his attention.

He answered without seeing who it was, “Hello?” he rasped out. Geez, he sounded awful.

“Oh good, I was just about to give up. Are you okay? You sound like shit.” Tim sounded through his phone speaker and Dick nearly started crying again in relief at the friendly voice.

“Uhh yeah, sorry, I was,” should he burden Tim with his disaster of a life or not? “Busy.” Yeah, that’d have to do.

“Oh sh—crap.” Tim’s voice grew temporarily more distant, greeting Alfred who had apparently walked past, before returning to normal, “Did I catch you at a bad time? I can go.”

“No!” a little too eager on Dick’s part, “I mean, no. I’m all good. I don’t have anything going on.”

“…Okay,” Tim didn’t sound too convinced, but he didn’t push the matter either, so it was close enough to a win for Dick. “You didn’t really answer my other question though. How’re you doing?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question, Baby Bird?”

“Puh-lease, that whole thing was like a lifetime ago. I don’t even have the stitches in anymore.”

Had it really been that long? That meant he hadn’t actually talked to Tim in several weeks; they’d texted almost every day, sure, but no phone calls and certainly nothing in person. Dick hoped that didn’t count as breaking his promise to keep in contact with the kid. Pushing down the guilt, he asked, “So how you doing? Physically and mentally by the way.”

Tim snorted. “Oh, you know, only mildly traumatized, and, as is the nature of passing time, I’m healing. I’ve had worse before and will probably have worse in the future.”

“I’m not sure if you meant that to be comforting, Timmy, but that was most definitely not comforting.”

Tim snorted at that, “Sorry? I don’t know what you wanted me to say instead then.”

“Nah man, I get what you’re saying, even if you’re playing it down.”

“Like you don’t do that too, mister. Besides, you’re the one who’s avoiding questions about your wellbeing,” Tim’s voice stayed mostly lighthearted, but his words grew serious, “I know what time of year it is Dick. I know you’re not okay, so you don’t need to pretend like you are.”

A little of the humor faded from Dick, “I, uhh. Ugh. Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Tim’s voice was sympathetic when he responded, “Do you want to talk about it?” then he tentatively added, “It’s been helping Bruce.”

Dick grew colder than he wanted at the mention of Bruce, and he tried not to bristle against Tim, “No. Thanks. I’m fine.  

A heavy sigh from the other side of the line, “What happened, Dick? I know you and Bruce have been going through it, but something happened when I got hurt and neither of you will tell me what’s going on.”

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it, Tim. Can we please move on?” The tiredness and hurt shone clear in Dick’s voice and Tim graciously took pity on him.

“Fine. Moving on for now, but you’re both gonna have to deal with it eventually. And Bruce misses you, even if he won’t admit it.”

Dick scoffed at that but didn’t let himself get drawn into the conversation. Tim was sneaky, but Dick really didn’t want to unpack everything going on with Bruce right now. “So, how’s school going? Are you back in person yet?”

“No, I go back next week, I’m still not really supposed to be walking on my leg yet and crutches hurt my ribs. They offered a wheelchair, but I would literally rather die than have to deal with that.”

Dick laughed and they both settled back into casual conversation for a while longer before Dick apologized and announced he had to get ready for patrol. Tim stilled slightly at that, and Dick could practically hear the gears turning in the kid’s head as he debated whether it was his place to comment or not. He must’ve eventually decided it wasn’t because he gave Dick a subdued but sincere, “Okay. Be safe,” and hung up, but Dick knew what Tim had wanted to say anyways.

Logically, Dick knew he was in no place to go on patrol, but the walls of his apartment were swaying above his head and the shadows were shifting and cackling. Resolving to stick to recon unless someone needed him, he suited up and climbed out his window.

Chapter Text

Tim [15:27] Okay, so hear me out: Movie Night. Eyy? I think it’d be fun

Tim [18:51] We don’t have to do it at the Manor if you don’t want to. We could even go to the theaters or something

Tim [23:14] Theaters are closed now, but I’ll be working on a school report if you wanna talk

Tim [03:04] I’m going to bed now, but notifications will be on

Tim [07:15] Can I at least get proof of life? I’ll stop bugging you after that

----

“Shit, shit, shit.” Dick groaned and tried to call Tim. Straight to voicemail. Dick glanced at his watch. Of course, it was nearly noon on a Thursday. Tim would be in school. 

Dick let out an anxious breath as the answering machine signaled it was ready, “Tim I am so sorry. I promise I wasn’t trying to ghost you. There was this thing and another thing, and then--,” he was rambling, “I think I may have gotten drugged or maybe I hit my head, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry. Gimme a call so we can set up a time for you to sock me or something. I’m sorry.”

Dick paced his apartment, trying to figure out how he could make it up to Tim. Tim who, for the first time, had been the one to suggest they do something, and Dick had gone and screwed it up. After close to an hour, his phone rang from where he’d tossed it on the couch and Dick pounced on it. Much longer and he’d probably have worn through his carpet.

“Timmy?”

“Hello?” The uncertainty in Tim’s voice nearly broke Dick’s heart.

“Hey! Hi, how are you?” Dick tried to soothe.

“‘M okay,” came the mumbled reply.

“Timmy, I am so sorry. I swear I wasn’t avoiding you. I don’t even know what happened. One moment it was one day, and the next moment it was another. I wanna make it up to you. How can I make it up to you?”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I screwed up. I told you I’d be there for you and I wasn’t.” Tim drew in a breath to protest but Dick cut him off, “Doesn’t matter that you weren’t dying. Movie Nights are an important part of being there for you. And I want to do that.”

“Can I talk now?” A bit of Tim’s hesitation had faded into annoyed amusement and Dick laughed sheepishly.

“Yeah, I guess I can stop talking for one second.”

“Oh thanks,” came the wry response. “Yeah, I could hardly understand that voicemail. My vote would have to be drugs.” Tim’s voice had a smile to it now and Dick breathed a sigh of relief before Tim continued, “Though I’m not so sure about the someone doing it to you part.”

Dick gasped, feigning offense, “I’m scandalled!”

“That’s not a word!” Tim giggled.

“It so is!” Dick slumped with relief at Tim’s laugh, “I was joking before, but now I truly am scandalled.”

“Oh, my goshhhh. Dick!”

“I’m telling you, it’s a word!” Dick fell back on his couch, satisfied that Tim wasn’t too hurt by the whole situation. That might change if Dick keeps taunting him, but oh well. 

“Says who?”

“Uhhh, the official Scrabble Dictionary??”

“Remind me to never play Scrabble with you,” Tim says dryly.

“My good sir! I am once again scandalled!”

“Stopppp! Dick! I thought you said it was my turn to torture you now, not the other way around.” They were both laughing now and Dick was glad they’d been able to settle back into their usual banter. 

“Oh, you’re right. My bad. Do you want to make up a word?”

“AH HAH! So you admit it’s made up!” Tim declared, triumphant.

“Well, all words were made up at some point. Thought you knew that, Brainiac.”

Tim grumbled at that, “Still doesn’t make it a word. And anyway, I thought we were moving on from this.”

“That’s on you, not on me.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re just now figuring this out? Man, you really are slipping, Brainiac.”

Tim chose to ignore the bait, and his voice was a bit guilty and maybe even disappointed as he spoke, “Listen, this has been fun, but I should probably go eat before lunch is over.”

“Oh yeah, sorry. That’s kinda important. Before you go though, are we good? Or like mostly good?”

“Yeah, Dick. We’re good. Thanks.”

“Kid, I’m the one who should be thanking you. I messed up here, not you.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I clearly hurt you though and I do need to apologize for that, even if it wasn’t intentional.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dick could tell that Tim didn’t fully believe him and wanted to argue, but he’d take what he could get for now.

“Now go eat lunch and text me after you’re done with school. I was serious about needing to meet up, even if you don’t punch me like I deserve.

Tim’s voice was lighter, but still a little hesitant, when he responded, “Yeah! I mean, yeah, okay; yeah, let’s do that. I’ll text you after school! See ya!”

“See ya, Timmy. Have a good day.”

Dick hung up and blew out a puff of air. The kid thanking Dick for calling him after ghosting him. That was definitely something future Dick would have to follow up on. Present Dick, though, was hungry and tired. He walked to his freezer with a grunt and pulled out a microwavable meal and an icepack for his aching head.

 Unfortunately for Tim’s detective skills, Dick had simply become too close of friends with a light pole when he had gone after some overeager drug runners. He probably would’ve been mostly fine after the ordeal, but he’d kinda been avoiding sleeping lately. 

His nightmares had been getting progressively worse, twisting in on themselves and creating new horrors. After he dreamt of being stabbed by Jason while Red Hood’s mechanical laugh echoed all around them, he’d decided to go as long as he could without sleep. He’d planned on another couple of days, but getting brained on patrol must’ve sped the process along; at least it stopped him from dreaming last night. He hardly even remembered making it back to the apartment. 

That reminded him, that he’d probably have to follow up on the drug shipments from last night. He wasn’t sure if he stopped them or not. That’d have to be another task for future Dick to follow up on, but he wasn’t future Dick yet and his brain was still a little too muddled, so he decided to let it go for now and settled back in for a nap after eating the imposter steak and potatoes he’d just nuked.

Chapter Text

“Heya, Timmy! This is Dick, take the name with whatever meaning you want. That’d be fair considering it’s been another week and we’ve talked but you still haven’t come over. So anyways, I’m super sleep-deprived, but I know you will be too, and I literally just got off work and I have a day off tomorrow, so I was thinking I could pick you up and we could finally have that movie night at my place tonight? 

“Anyways, I’m headed back to my apartment now and I’ll probably conk out on my couch until you get back to me, so just keep calling or whatever until I answer. Hopefully see ya soon!” 

----

Dick’s apartment was a tiny bit of a mess when he got back to it, so he went about quickly tidying things before throwing himself onto his couch with a grunt. His phone buzzed from his kitchen counter a few minutes later and Dick grumbled as he willed himself to his feet. Past Dick was such a jerk for forgetting to bring his phone with him to the couch. He stopped grumbling, though, when he saw it was a text from Tim.

Tim [18:47] You serious?? I’d love to!  

Dick [18:48] Heck yeah! Am I good to come get you now?

Dick [18:48] Oh! And do you want to stay over tonight?

Tim [18:49] Do you have coffee?

Dick laughed when he saw that, of course, that would be the kid’s biggest concern.

Dick [18:49] I’m not a heathen, Tim. Of course I have coffee

Tim [18:49] Just checking. So then yes to you coming now and yes me to staying over

Dick [18:50] Awesome! I’m on my way then. See ya soon!

Tim [18:51] Drive safe!

----

A storm of emotions churned in Dick’s stomach as he pulled up the driveway to Wayne Manor. Maybe offering to pick the kid up wasn’t such a good idea. No, he was doing this for Tim. Seeing Bruce was a risk he was willing to take for his little brother. Still, he wanted to avoid it if he could, so he parked the car and shot off a text.

Dick [19:29] Here! I’m parked in the driveway

Tim [19:30] Awesome!

Tim [19:30] I hate to do this, but Alfred isn’t around, and I can’t exactly carry my bag with crutches

Dick read that text and groaned, but responded before the typing bubble could become the question he knew was coming.

Dick [19:30] I’ll be right in. 

Dick didn’t bother knocking instead walking right into the house and closing the door softly behind him. Tim was waiting in the foyer, standing, with the help of his crutches, with his bag sitting at his feet.

“Howdy, Timmy! Good to see you,” Dick paused gesturing curiously at Tim’s bag, “How’d you get your bag down here? Isn’t your room upstairs?”

Tim shrugged, “Yeah, Bruce is making me stay close by until I can walk normally, but there’s nothing particularly fragile in it so I just pushed it down the stairs. I coulda just shoved it into the elevator with me, but the stairs were way more fun.”

“Of course,” Dick said with a snort. “Well anyways, crutches may save you from carrying your bag, but it won’t save you from a hug!” Dick moved in before Tim had time to react and gathered him up in a loving, albeit, awkward hug. He let go when Tim started squirming and hoisted Tim’s small bag. “Alright! Let’s get going!”

Tim smiled, but didn’t start hobbling toward the door, “You know, Bruce is in his study,” he hesitated, “If you wanna--”

Dick cut him off, fixing him with a harsher glare than intended, “Tim. No.” Then, with a sign of resignation, “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to help, but I really don’t want anything to do with Bruce right now, okay?”

“Okay, and I get it. I mean, I don’t entirely get it because neither of you will tell me what happened,” Tim paused to fix Dick with a meaningful look, “But I get fighting with parents.”

Dick pulled Tim into a side hug, “Thanks, kiddo. Now, what do you say we get outta here!”

Tim gave him a grin, “Let’s go!” And with the temporary tension forgotten, they headed out the door and started on their way back to Blüdhaven.

----

Thank goodness his building had an elevator, janky as it was. Dick hadn’t even thought about the fact that Tim was still on crutches. Dick always just used the stairs--because the elevator was so sketchy--but several stories, although not impossible, is certainly an endeavor with crutches. 

They safely made it to Dick’s floor and Dick set down Tim’s bag to unlock his door before following Tim into his apartment.

“So this is where you live!” Tim said, looking around.

Dick scratched the back of his head sheepishly, “Yeah, I know it’s not much, but it’s mine, and it gets the job done.”

“It’s so cute!” That was not the reaction Dick was expecting.

“Cute?? Should I be offended?” He half-joked. 

“Sorry! No, it’s just, that I’ve kinda lived in bigger houses my whole life. I like it! It’s a nice change.” 

Dick chuckled. Flicking Tim lightly on the back of his head as he walked past him to the kitchen. “Glad to hear it. Now then!” He rubbed his hands together with a clap as he gathered his thoughts. I don’t know when you last ate, but I’m hungry, so what do you say to spaghetti?”

Tim grimaced slightly, “I’m not a huge fan of jarred sauce; it tastes too sugary.”

“Well, then you’re in luck! I make my sauce from “scratch”.” 

“Did you just make quotation marks with your fingers? I’m even more concerned now,” Tim laughed.

Dick put a hand to his chest in mock offense, “Seriously Tim, why are you always so doubtful of me? We’re using store-bought cans for the tomato sauce and diced tomatoes, so I can’t in good conscience call this amazing spaghetti, but I’d say it’s more than passable. Besides, now we get to season stuff ourselves,” Dick paused for a moment, thinking, “You can help if you want, but you aren’t allowed to season like a white person. I might have to shun you if you do that.” 

Tim laughed, slightly confused, “I am white though?”

Dick turned and fixed him with an intense stare, “Listen to me closely, Tim. This is an important lesson,” Dick waited, making sure Tim was listening, “Being white and cooking like you’re white are two different things.”

“Okay then,” Tim rocked back on his crutches looking mildly concerned, “Good to know.”

Dick laughed and went back to pulling things out for dinner, “Glad that’s settled. Now then! Do you wanna help or do you wanna watch.”

Tim hesitated, “Ummm, I don’t really know how?”

“Well, that’s no problem,” Dick assured with an easy grin, “Trust me, if I can do this, then you can too.”

Tim didn’t look entirely convinced, but he did hobble over to the seats on the far side of the counter and accepted the cans and can opener that Dick pushed his way. 

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Dick started a pot of water boiling on the stove and Tim passed Dick the cans once they were open with Dick adding them to the pan he was heating on another burner. Tim must’ve zoned out a little because he startled when Dick dumped various spices and seasonings on the counter between them. 

Dick gave him a mildly concerned look, “You good?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim responded trying to brush the conversation off, “Sorry.”

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Dick queried. Tim could probably get out of the conversation if he wanted to, but thinking about it, maybe he didn’t want to.

“Just trying to remember if I ever cooked anything with anyone before.”

“You grow up rich then?” Dick jokingly jabbed.

“Heh, well yeah, but it’s just that I’ve always made meals by myself.” Dick’s face screwed up in slight confusion so Tim explained further, “My parents traveled a lot and I was old enough to take care of myself, so I was basically on my own. 

“Never learned anything fancy, but I obviously didn’t starve. So yeah, it’s just weird -- in a good way -- to cook with someone else.” Tim glanced away, lost in his memories.

Dick gave him several minutes to gather himself before tossing a stick of spaghetti at his head, “I get it, believe me, I do.” He let out a huff before giving Tim an understanding smile, “Now come on, let’s not waste the chance to cook together now. The sauce is ready for seasoning.” He put a bowl between them and gestured to the various herbs and spices, “Oh, and this is a test.” He grinned at Tim who returned the smile before throwing the stick of spaghetti back at Dick.

“Okay, but it’s on you if I screw this up.”

“Nah, I said test, but it can be open neighbor.” He put a reassuring hand on Tim’s shoulder and passed him a bottle, “Now come on, you got this.”

Chapter Text

The brothers continued in chaos until everything was ready, and if more spaghetti ended up on the counters, floor, and possibly the ceiling than in the pot or their bowls, that was something only they had to know. They dished up what was left of the noodles and sauce and headed into the living room. 

Tim dropped himself heavily onto the couch with a groan, Dick snickering from behind him before joining him on the couch and setting down their bowls of spaghetti on the coffee table. 

“You having fun there, Timmers?”

Tim threw his head back against the couch and with a frustrated huff, “Oh yeah, so much fun.” He leaned forward and ran a hand through his hair, “Man, I am so tired of all this. Bruce is so overprotective when I’m hurt. I vastly prefer his normal self. Like geez man, find a happy medium at least.” 

Dick laughed sympathetically, “Oh yeah, the tales I could tell.”

“He honestly might never let me out again. He’s gotten so paranoid about Red Hood now. I mean, he’s only gonna try to kill me so many times before he gets bored.” Tim sat back with a snort clearly joking around, but Dick stilled.

“Uhh yeah, yeah.” He stuttered, trying to infuse more levity into his voice. 

Tim glanced at him curiously, “You good?”

Dick pondered the question, gears still turning, “Yeah, I just. Can I ask you something?” Tim nodded warily, “How can you be so okay with this? Like enough to joke about it?”

Tim sighed heavily, “I don’t know. It’s not that I’m okay with it all really. It’s just, like. I don’t know. I don’t joke about it because I’m okay with it, more like I joke about it because I’m not. It’s scary and it’s fucked up and I’m not okay, but I’d be more not okay if I really dwelt on it. You know?” He glanced briefly at Dick who gave him a reassuring nod. 

“It’s also that I trust you guys. Sure, I’ve gotten hurt, but I’ve also survived. You were there for me and I trust that you always will be.” Tim flashed Dick a timid smile before staring back at the ground, “So I guess, in short: I’m not really okay, but I will be eventually and that’s enough for me for now.”

“Oh, Timmers.” Dick really wanted to hug Tim but didn’t know how he’d react. “Ugh. I really hate this. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this shit. I promise we’ll catch him. We’ll keep you safe.” He hesitated, “Can I hug you?”

Tim shot Dick a sad smile and nodded his consent before being carefully tackled. Dick mumbled from where his face was squished into Tim’s shoulder, “I love you, Baby Bird. I’m here for you. Don’t you ever forget it.”

Tim let out a slightly wet laugh and brushed Dick’s hair out of the way, looking down at him with that same sad smile before speaking softly, “Yeah. Yeah I know,” then so quiet Dick wasn’t even sure he’d heard anything, “I love you too.” 

They sat in silence for a while, Tim running his fingers through Dick’s hair before pulling them away and wiping his eyes with a shuddering sigh. “Our foods gonna get cold, come on.” 

Dick stirred from his thoughts and sat up sluggishly before reaching for their pasta and handing one bowl to Tim. “Do you still wanna watch a movie?” Dick asked, watching Tim carefully so he could see his real reaction. 

Tim suppressed a yawn, “Yeah. Umm, what do you wanna watch?”

“I’m good with whatever. You pick,” Dick said with a shrug.

Tim looked down, sorting through his thoughts, “Okay,” he said after a moment. “Umm how about The Princess Bride?” Tim looked at Dick hesitantly like he was afraid of rejection.

Dick responded by way of a splitting grin which softened the worry on Tim’s face. “I love that idea.”

“Okay. Okay, cool.” Tim gave him a small smile and settled back into the couch while Dick busied himself with setting up the movie. “Hey! You know, this spaghetti’s pretty good!”

Dick glanced back at Tim from his position next to the TV. “After all that you seriously still doubted me? Really?” Dick flipped Tim off, softening the insult with a smile, and Tim returned the favor. 

“With your track record? Definitely.” 

“Good grief, Baby Bird. Guess we’re just gonna have to make this a regular thing so I can skew the data to be in my favor.”

Tim balked slightly before covering it up, “Actually though?”

Dick glanced back at him again, confused at the hesitant words. “Yeah of course. I love having you around.”

Tim blushed slightly into his bowl of pasta, shoving another forkful in his mouth before mumbling, “I’d really like that.”

Dick smiled reassuringly as he walked over and slumped down next to Tim. “Me too.” He bumped their shoulders together and widened his grin. “Now then, a fair warning, that as much as I love this movie, there’s like a 90% chance I’m gonna fall asleep while watching it. I’m perfectly content sleeping the entire night on the couch and you’re more than welcome to stay too, but I have the guest bedroom set up down the hall and you can wake me if you need me, okay?”

Tim nodded, “Okay.”

“Okay! Now time for some inconceivable fun!” Tim snorted and Dick started up the movie.

They ate their pasta and echoed the movie’s iconic quotes, chatting quietly about its perfection and whether they should add iocane powder to their arsenal. They shuffled around once they were done eating and Tim ended up with his head on Dick’s lap, tracing circles on his brother’s arm from where it rested gently on his shoulder. True to his word, Dick drifted off to sleep and Tim followed soon after.

----

Dick woke with a start squinting at the unfamiliar surroundings before realizing he was in his living room. He glanced down at his lap, where Tim was beginning to thrash, his face screwed up in pain and fear. He let out a whimpered, “No,” that broke Dick’s heart and spurred him into action. 

“Tim,” He shook his little brother’s shoulder lightly, trying to wake him without startling him, “Wake up, buddy, you’re having a nightmare.” 

Tim bolted upright, eyes wide and beginning to gather tears. His breathing was raspy and rapid and Dick worried Tim would hyperventilate. “Hey, hey.” He soothed, rubbing his hand down Tim’s arm. Tim’s eyes locked on his and a bit of relief mixed in with their pain as the first tears fell. He let out a broken sob and Dick’s heart broke even more. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He pulled him into a hug, keeping it loose so Tim could pull away. Dick tightened the hug when Tim leaned into it, whimpering and gasping as his tears soaked into Dick’s shirt. 

“I don’t-- I can’t--” he gasped for air, “Dick.” His voice broke with another sob. It felt like Dick’s hug might be the only thing holding Tim together as he shook violently.

“Shhh. Shh. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” Dick held him tight and rubbed gently up and down Tim’s back, matching his breathing to the strokes. “Deep breaths. Follow me. In,” his hand ran up Tim’s back and paused, “Out,” he repeated the motion but going down. Tim gasped and tried to follow along, “Good. You’re doing so good Timmy.” 

Slowly but surely, Tim’s breathing slowed and deepened, his sobs quieting to whimpers and then to occasional hiccuping gasps. “You’re okay, Timmy. I’m right here. You’re safe.” Eventually, Tim buried his face further into Dick’s chest and whimpered out an apology. “No hey. No. No apologies. You have nothing to apologize for.” Dick pulled back slightly and waited for Tim to look at him before continuing seriously, “You have done nothing wrong.” He waited for Tim to acknowledge that he heard the words, even if he didn’t believe them, before wrapping him back up in a hug. 

Tim settled into a tired stupor and Dick just held him. Rocking slightly and muttering reassurances as he soothed his hand down Tim’s back. 

When he felt Tim come back to himself, he gently asked the question he’d been wanting to ask since he’d woken up, “Do you wanna talk about it?” Tim tensed slightly but didn’t respond, “No pressure though. Just know I’m here for you.” Tim eventually whispered out a response, but Dick didn’t catch it. “What was that?”

A little louder this time, “It was Red Hood. At the Tower.” He let out a stuttering breath and Dick tugged him closer. 

“Oh, Timmy. I’m so sorry.” 

“‘Ts’not your fault,” he mumbled into Dick’s shoulder.

Dick sighed. No, it wasn’t his fault, but that didn’t make the guilt settle any, and it didn’t diminish the hurt at all to see Tim so hurt. 

Tim whimpered again and snuggled impossibly closer into Dick and whispered, “I think I might be crazy.”

Dick tried not to tense at the startling declaration and tried even harder to ignore the thoughts about what Tim would think of Dick then. He kept his voice soft and soothing as he responded, “Doubtful Baby Bird.” He kissed the top of Tim’s head and continued, “But why do you say that?”

It didn’t seem like Tim was responding directly to the question, but they’d get back around to it when Tim was ready and Dick was content to listen to everything else his little brother had to say in the meantime. “It was so scary. I was all alone.” He paused, remembering everything that happened that day. “I tried my best, I really did, but I-- I wasn’t good enough.” His voice broke, “I don’t think I’ve ever been good enough.” 

Dick really wanted to rebuttal that, but now wasn’t the time to interrupt. That would only break Tim’s reverie and shut him down. So Dick resolved to address that comment, along with all the other troubling things involving Tim--the list really was getting long--and stayed quiet, waiting for Tim to gather his thoughts and continue. 

“I don’t-- I don’t really wanna talk about what he did to me. Not right now at least.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to,” Dick soothed.

“But Dick?” Tim pulled away and looked at Dick with wide eyes, the hesitance and fear clear in them. Dick nodded slightly, waiting for Tim to continue. Tim swallowed nervously, “When, uh, when I thought I was dying, I thought I saw someone.” He stopped again--it was his last chance to turn back--then he whispered out, “I saw Jason.” Dick’s heart clenched painfully, but he didn’t say anything. “I’m not saying he was real. I know Jason died, it’s just. He was my Robin, my hero, and I think. I think it must’ve been because I was bleeding out and I was all alone, but it’s like, Robin is supposed to save people and he couldn’t have been real in that moment, but he kinda still did.” 

The pain and loneliness in Tim’s words, the ache for his missing brother pressed in on Dick, but Tim continued softly, almost speaking to himself now, before Dick could be dragged too deep into his own thoughts, “I never saw Jason without his mask before he died, but Alfred showed me a couple pictures, and I’d know my Robin anywhere.” He smiled faintly, “Did you know I used to follow you guys around with my camera?” That was another thing Dick would have to follow up on. He’d love to see those photos. “I know I was hallucinating, from pain or blood loss or something; I must’ve been because his hair was white and he was there at all, but it was nice even if it does mean I’m crazy.”

“No, Tim.” Dick thought mirthlessly, “You’re not the crazy one here.” Something else about what Tim said was nagging at him, begging for attention and exploration, but Dick was tired and Tim needed his attention right now, so he pushed the thought aside. “You’re not crazy, Tim. It sucks that what you went through was traumatic enough to make you experience that, but it’s not surprising. I’m glad your Robin was able to save you just like you’ve saved us as Robin.”

“Yeah, me too.” Tim snuggled into a more slumped position with a yawn. “I’m tired.”

Dick let out a light laugh at Tim’s cuteness, “Me too. Come on, my bed will be more comfortable.” Dick scooped Tim up with only token protests and carried them to his room where they settled in for the night.

Tim was confident in the ability of his brother’s strong arms to keep his nightmares at bay and mumbled out, “Love you, Dick,” as he drifted off to sleep.

Dick pulled his arms a little tighter around Tim, and kissed the top of his head, “I love you too.”

Chapter Text

“Timmyyyy,” Dick gently addressed the lump of blankets still in his bed. “It’s time to get up.”

“Mmph,” The lump rolled over, burrowing deeper. Dick laughed, sitting down on his bed and placing a hand where he thought Tim’s shoulder was.

“I made coffee,” he offered in a slightly teasing sing-song voice. The lump shifted some more until his little brother’s suspicious glare was revealed.

“You’d better not be lying,” Tim mumbled almost incoherently. He shifted again and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Dick sat there patiently, gently soothing his hand along Tim’s blanketed arm. Tim eventually sighed in defeat and began the process of extricating himself When he had, he just sat there squinting tiredly at nothing. Dick could practically see Tim’s brain trying to boot up, and he couldn’t help but laugh at how much of a morning person Tim clearly was not.

“I’d rather not risk your rather, buddy. I’ve got coffee. I can make pancakes too, but somehow I don’t think that’s as enticing an offer.”

Tim scrubbed tiredly at his face. “Mmm, too many words. Need coffee.”

Dick laughed again, “Alright. Up and at ‘em.” He could’ve grabbed Tim’s crutches from where they’d been abandoned the night before in the living room but figured it wasn’t worth the effort of waking Tim up enough to use them when he could just carry him.

Unlike last night, Tim didn’t protest at being held in Dick’s arms. He simply wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck and mumbled, “Mmm, you’re warm,” as he closed his eyes again. “Are you taking me to coffee?”

“Yeah, Baby Bird. I’m taking you to coffee.” He walked as smoothly as he could, careful to not jostle Tim’s injuries and gently settling him on the couch. He called over his shoulder as he headed to the kitchen, “How do you want your coffee?”

“Coffee,” came the simple, slightly slurred response.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Coffee.”

“Black?”

“Coffee.”

Dick laughed again, “Alright, coffee it is.” In the past, Dick had thought his coffee dependency was approaching Tim levels. Evidently, he was wrong.

He walked back over to Tim and set his own mug on the coffee table before gently shaking Tim’s shoulder, and holding the steaming mug out in front of him. “Coffee?” Tim looked blearily, but hopefully up at him before reaching for the mug and clasping it close to his body.

“As ordered.” Dick ruffled Tim’s hair and grabbed his own mug before joining Tim--who was blowing on his coffee and taking as long of sips as the temperature would allow--on the couch.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Dick waiting for the caffeine to kick in before any more attempts at human interaction with Tim. Eventually, Tim broke the silence with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Dick smiled at him, “Anytime.” They sat there for a moment longer. “You alive enough for pancakes now?” Dick shot Tim a grin that let him know this incident would not be forgotten.

Tim sunk back in embarrassment before mumbling, “Pancakes do sound good.” He refused to make eye contact as Dick laughed and stood up. “As you wish.” Winking so Tim would get the movie reference, he headed back into the kitchen and pulled out the pancake mix, milk, and eggs. “Do you want some eggs too?” he called back to Tim.

“Scrambled?”

“Sure thing!” Dick pulled out some seasonings and set to work on making breakfast. Tim shuffled in a few minutes later his now empty cup hanging by its handle from a few of his fingers. He awkwardly balanced and twisted to place the mug down on the counter before hopping onto the stool, leaning his crutches against the counter next to him.

“So,” Tim asked, “What’s the plan for today?” Dick turned around still mixing the batter.

“Umm, well. I have some chores I need to do, like grocery shopping and stuff, so it’s kinda up to you. You can stay over and tag along on those, or I can take you back to the Manor if you’d prefer.” Dick set the bowl back on the counter. “I have the next few days off and you can stay for as much of that as you want. So what do you think?”

“I’d like to stay here if that’s okay?” There was that near-constant hesitance in Tim’s face and voice.

Dick smiled, “Of course! That’s why I offered. Also, since we’ll be getting stuff anyways, be thinking of some meals or snacks or anything that you might want from the store.”

Tim smile back, looking every ounce the innocent person he wasn’t, “Could we get coffee while we’re out?”

“Dude,” Dick said, turning to the stove to begin making a small test pancake, “I don’t wanna be that guy, but you have a serious problem. I might just have to hide my supply from you.”

Tim grumbled at that, “And suddenly I’m rethinking my decision to stay over.” Dick just shook his head in fond exasperation, not justifying the complaint with an answer.

They chatted about how Tim’s classes were going now that he was back in person and other meaningless things that mean a lot when talking about it with the right people as Dick finished making breakfast.

Dick presented the plates of food with a small flourish, “My lord! Breakfast is served,” which got a small laugh out of Tim. Dick then sat down next to him and took a bite of his food before carrying on their conversation from before. “So, what’d B tell your school about you missing anyways?”

Tim grimaced with slight disdain, “Skateboarding accident. Biffed it down a flight of stairs trying to ride the rail.”

Dick laughed, “Yeah that’d do it.” He grabbed the syrup and began drowning his pancakes. “Do you actually skate?”

Tim ducked his head, mildly embarrassed, and offered a simple, “Yeah.”

Dick grinned at him, “Cool! You’ll have to show me sometime!”

That left Tim trying to hide his smile. “Okay.”

Before Tim could melt from his embarrassment, Dick moved on to a new topic, “So you think of what you want from the store? Or what you want to do while you’re here?”

Tim gave him a pointed look before wisely not mentioning coffee again, “Cooking with you last night was really fun, I was thinking we could maybe try baking something?” then rushed to add, “If you’re okay with that that is.”

“That’s a great idea! Though I can’t promise the end result will be edible.” Dick grimaced at the memories. “The rumors are definitely more true about me being a nightmare when it comes to baking.”

“You got a fire extinguisher. We’ll be fine!” That earned Tim a playful shove. “I was also thinking we could play some video games.”

“Now that, I can definitely get behind.”

Chapter Text

The day had been peaceful and fun. Dick was so glad he’d been able to spend more time with Tim even if it hurt because it showed him what he could’ve had with Jason. He was currently getting destroyed at Mario Kart, but it was getting late and he was getting anxious. After he lost another round by an embarrassing margin, he made his declaration. “Well, Timmy, I hate to say it, but it’s about time I head out for patrol.”

Tim turned to him, a mix of shock, concern, and even anger showing on his face. “What? But we’re hanging out! And it’s your day off!” 

Dick grimaced, “I know, but there’s always going to be crime to fight. People need us.”

Tim sat back with a pout which slowly shifted into a look Dick very much so didn’t like.

“Tim…” He said with an edge of worry and warning. Tim was clearly cooking up a devilish plan.

“What if I come with you?” Tim finally asked.

Dick hadn’t been sure what he’d expected, but that hadn’t been it. “What??”

Tim pouted again, “I wanna come!”

“No way, dude. I’m sorry, but you can’t even walk. You know I’d love it if you patrolled with me, but we can’t do it tonight.”

Tim huffed, but he had to have known what the answer would be. “Well then what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”

Dick shrugged and gestured to the paused game. “I don’t know, more video games? I’ve got books if you’d rather, or you can just watch TV.”

“I am literally so sick of all of those options. I wanna do vigilante work again, Dick!” He gave Dick some heartbreaking puppy dog eyes. “Please?”

Dick sighed, he knew when he’d been beaten. “Fine. Okay. There’s a box with a couple of unfinished cases under my bed. But you gotta promise to only work on them for a couple of hours, okay?”

“Thank you!! Thank you, thank you, thank you! Oh hallelujah! B hasn’t even been letting me look at the file folders of cases!”

Dick laughed, “Yeah, that sounds like B. Only a few hours, okay? I rather fancy not being skinned alive for insubordination.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Now come on! Go! You’ve got patrol!” Dick laughed again and began heading to his room to get ready and grab the box for Tim. They both knew Tim was going to work on it the whole time Dick was gone, but Tim’s obvious joy made it really hard to be mad at being talked into it. 

----

Dick checked in a few times and Tim always assured him that he was fine and that he had no qualms with Dick staying out for another hour, or three. He made sure to update Tim when he was heading in so they’d both have plausible deniability about how much time Tim had spent working on the cases.

He finally made it back to his apartment and carefully crawled through the window. Tim was in a heated Super Smash battle so only gave him a cursory greeting before turning his attention back to his game. “You good?”

Dick walked behind Tim and mussed his hair, “Yeah, just tired.”

The round finished and Tim paused the game. He really looked at Dick for the first time. He clearly wasn’t kidding about being tired. Dick had tossed himself onto the couch taking up all the space Tim wasn’t with his head on the armrest. His hands were tucked tightly into his armpits, and while he still had his domino on, Tim was willing to bet his eyes were closed. Tim smiled softly to himself before he noticed something that made his smile falter. Dick may not have been lying about being tired, but he had lied when he said he wasn’t hurt.

“Dick.”

“What,” he sounded annoyed at the silence being interrupted.

“You’re bleeding.”

Dick grunted in dismissive acknowledgment, “It can wait five minutes.”

“Dick! I said you’re bleeding,” Tim’s own voice was edged with annoyance now.

Dick huffed but didn’t move, “And I said five more minutes. Bullet grazed my bicep, it’ll be fine.”

Tim had been willing to give Dick the benefit of the doubt about not saying he was hurt, maybe he had enough adrenaline in his system that he hadn’t felt it yet, but not only did Dick know where he got hurt, he knew exactly how it had happened, and yet, he’d still said he wasn’t hurt. “Tell me this then,” Tim leaned over and shoved Dick’s legs off the couch leaving him slumped awkwardly, “How come I have to be responsible and get benched when I get hurt, but you’re allowed to just do whatever you want when you do?”

There was a heavy pause before Dick sighed and pulled himself into a more fully seated position. He didn’t speak as he peeled off his mask and still stayed silent when he finally looked over at Tim. There were too many emotions dancing behind the elder’s eyes and Tim was too distracted at the cut and beginnings of a bruise blooming along his brow bone to be able to decipher them. Dick finally looked like he was going to speak, probably excuses, so Tim cut him off. “Where’s your kit?” 

Dick’s expression shifted more towards surprise and confusion, “What?” he asked dumbly, and Tim wasn’t sure which scenario was more concerning, that Dick’s weird response came from a concussion or that he was genuinely knocked off kilter at someone trying to help him. 

“Why do all the damn bats have to be so stubborn,” Tim grumbled under his breath before directly addressing his idiot older brother, “I said, where’s your first aid kit?”

Dick stared at him for a moment longer before pointing to the kitchen, “Umm, a-above the fridge.” Yeah, Tim was definitely gonna have to check for a concussion.

Tim reached for his crutches and Dick’s brain seemed to reboot, “Wait, hold on. I’ll go get it. Wait here.” He retrieved the kit and turned back towards Tim who could now clearly see the slight glaze in his eyes as Dick wandered back to the couch. He sat down heavily then dropped the kit unceremoniously between them. 

Tim quietly opened the kit and rearranged them so he could check Dick for a concussion. “Okay, so you definitely have a mild concussion.” Tim didn’t want to fight about this next part, but it had to be said, “If I’m not allowed to patrol hurt, then neither are you.” He saw Dick preparing to argue and cut him off, “Dick,” He waited for Dick to look at him, “Please?” And just like that, the fight left him. Dick’s strings had been cut and he slumped back against the couch, his whole body radiating exhaustion.

A quiet, defeated, “Okay,” was all Tim got. 

It was almost worrying how easily Dick gave in, but things like the still-bleeding wounds were more pressing, so Tim let it drop electing instead to direct Dick to strip out of the top of his suit while Tim washed his hands. 

Tim cleaned and bandaged the cut on Dick’s forehead and got ready for sutures before either of them spoke again, “Dick? How often does stuff like this happen?” 

Dick stiffened almost imperceptibly, “Like what?” he deflected. 

“Like this. You getting hurt and not taking care of it--not taking care of yourself.” Then, as an aside, “First stitch.” Dick winced, but Tim couldn’t tell if it was from guilt or from the pain of the needle. 

“It’s, hhh. Don’t worry about it, Timmy. I’m fine. It’s not like I’ve gotten myself killed.” Dick attempted to lighten the mood, but the exasperated glare it earned him told him he’d failed. “ Wow, another failure. What a shocker there,” he thought. “Don’t worry, Tim. I know what I’m doing. I’ve been fighting crime since you were practically a baby.” He smiled reassuringly and Tim seemed to relax just the tiniest bit.

“I still don’t like that you’re all alone out there. What if you get hurt worse? Who’s gonna help you?”

“I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Tim finished patching Dick up then sat back, looking awkward and apprehensive.

“Gimme a controller,” Dick said.

Tim looked at him, surprised, “What?”

“Gimme a controller, I wanna beat you at Mario Kart.” 

Tim laughed, “Man, you need sleep even more than I thought you did. There’s no way you’re beating me.” 

Dick pouted, “Oh come on! I’m not that bad!”

“You really are,” Tim said with a pity smile, “And you also really need sleep.”

“Mario Kart, then sleep.” Dick made grabby hands and Tim finally relented passing him a controller. 

Tim booted up the game and glanced challengingly at Dick, “Don’t say it didn’t warn you.”

“Oh I’m so scared,” Dick joked back. 

Dick did in fact lose and despite his demands for a rematch, Tim managed to get him to go to bed.

----

Dick walked into the kitchen the next morning barely conscious. 

“‘Morning,” Tim said and Dick startled. Tim was sitting at the counter, sipping on an enormous cup of coffee and looking at papers that looked suspiciously like casework. Dick had created a monster.

“‘Why’re you up so early?” he asked staring at Tim through half-closed eyes. He needed coffee. And painkillers. 

Tim laughed, “Dude, it’s 2pm.”

“Oh,” was all Dick could manage. He really needed coffee. 

As if reading his mind, Tim said, there’s fresh coffee in the pot and I also took the liberty of getting out the painkillers. They’re sitting next to the mug on the counter.” Dick nodded his thanks and shuffled to pour out a cup and Tim continued when Dick had taken a couple of pills with a long sip of his coffee. “I was thinking, we bought stuff to make chocolate chip cookies yesterday, but we ended up not making them, so maybe we could make them today?” 

Dick grinned at him, “Definitely,” then he walked over and swiped the papers away from Tim. “Just like I thought,” he declared triumphantly, “No more casework, Baby Bird.” Tim pouted, but Dick didn’t relent. He just ruffled Tim’s hair and said, “Save your brain power for figuring out how to bake.”

Tim laughed, “It’s literally a box mix, we’ll be fine.”

“Overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer, my friend,” Dick said ominously before taking another sip of coffee.

Tim choked on his own coffee, “Did you just make a Darkest Dungeon reference? Over cookies?”

Chapter Text

The scent of acrid smoke curled around Dick as he came to, gasping for air. His whole body ached as he fought to open his eyes. 

With a groan, he finally pried them open only to squeeze them quickly shut at the burning bright light. 

Slowly, he worked them back open, squinting as he tried to prop himself up and get his bearings. The warehouse around him was alight with fire, flames licking across every surface, the air wavering with heat and heavy with smoke. 

He was dressed as Nightwing but didn’t remember how or why he was in this warehouse. In all honesty, he didn’t know how far back the gap in his memory went, but, while that was a major concern, the warehouse being on fire was slightly more pressing than the warehouse itself. 

He reached for his rebreather only to find it, and all his other equipment, missing. That was just all the more reason to get out quickly, so he looked around until he spotted an exit and began crawling towards it trying to stay under the worst of the smoke. 

He was nearly halfway there when a flash of movement to his left caught his eye. Focusing his attention in that direction, he tried to spot what had caused it. 

Suddenly he saw it again. There was someone leaning against the wall, haltingly making their way to the same exit as him. As Dick watched, they took another step before lurching forward slightly, pain etched in the lines of their body. They tried again, only to crumple further against the wall then slide down it til they were sitting with their back to it. 

It was then that Dick realized he knew the person. Ignoring the burning in his lungs and the swimming nausea as he stood, he rushed over. 

“Little Wing!” He exclaimed worriedly as he reached his brother’s side. 

Jason looked up at him blearily, and Dick’s concern only grew once he saw the injuries up close. 

A large burn spread across Jason’s left side licking down toward his hips. Dick instinctively reached for it earning him a pained groan. He winced in sympathy. “Sorry, Little Wing, but I need to see how bad it is.” 

“Nghh.” Jason tried to move away but aborted the movement with a pained gasp.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay,” Dick soothed, “You’re okay.” Dick was worried about how clearly out of it Jason was and he tried running his hand through his brother’s hair to ground him. “I need you to stay with me, Jay. Come on, lemme see your eyes.” His hand caught on a particularly tough tangle and Jason jolted as Dick tried to split the white and black apart. 

Dick tried to soothe him again but was cut off by another pained sound.

“D-Dick?” Jason asked, his eyes finally focusing a bit.

“Hey! Hey, yeah, Little Wing. It’s me, I’m here. You’re gonna be okay.”

“‘M cold,” Jason mumbled and fear ran through Dick. The building was sweltering, Jason must be worse off than he thought if he was cold. 

Trying to gather his thoughts he said, “Okay. Okay, well then let's get you out of here. Do you think you can walk?” Jason nodded sluggishly and tried lifting himself from the ground only to drop back down with a pained gasp. His eyes locked back onto Dick’s dancing with the flames reflected in them, burning of their own accord. 

“Change of plans then,” Dick said. “I don’t think I can carry you out on my own so, I’ll call for help.” He reached for his comm only to find it missing. Jason had faded from his bout of cognizance, so Dick took a shuddering breath and made up his mind. “They’re on their way. You’re gonna be okay, yeah?” All he got was a tired hum in response. Maybe someone would come for them, but it wouldn’t be because Dick called them. 

They sat in near silence with just the crackling flames and Jason’s pained breaths to keep them company. Dick tried to keep up a soothing mantra but had to stop when he couldn’t stop coughing. 

He was failing. His little brother was dying in a burning warehouse all over again, but at least this time he wouldn’t be alone. At least Dick could do that right this time. 

Jason kept nodding off, and Dick kept rousing him, but he could tell it was harder each time.

“Come on, Jay. I need you to stay with me,” Dick tried after Jason had gone too long without responding. Dick shifted closer and felt his pulse only to find it nearly gone. “Little Wing,” he choked. “Come on. Please. Please don’t do this to me.” 

Dick wanted to break down, it was all he could do not to, but he refused to do it. He didn’t want Jason to feel scared or guilty in his last moments. “Come on Jason. Stay with me.”

He shifted Jason so his little brother’s head was resting against his shoulder and began rubbing down his back. Jason didn’t react, didn’t even gasp in pain, and Dick let out another shuddering breath, a few tears escaping now that Jason couldn’t see them. 

Jason slackened slightly against him and Dick let out a choked-off sob. “You’re okay. It’s okay.” He didn’t know who he was reassuring at this point, or what he was reassuring them of. “It’s okay.” 

He felt it when Jason let go, he knew when his little brother died for the second time, but he didn’t want to let himself believe it. 

“Jason?” He asked, pulling away slightly. He checked his pulse, knowing that he wouldn’t find one. Dick had nothing to hide now and let out the emotions he’d been holding back. He begged the universe with heaving sobs. “Please don’t do this. Jason. Please don’t leave me! Jason, please!”

——

“Jason!” Dick shot up in bed, tears running down his face as the remnants of his dream danced just outside of conscious reach. His gaze flitted around rapidly, trying to settle back into reality until it settled on the young boy sitting at the end of his bed. His little brother stared silently back at him. He always looked so small like this. He was so small. He’d never gotten to grow up as he should’ve. 

Jason ran his hand through his hair as they watched each other. Dick’s gaze flickered to it and a feeling of wrongness twinged at him. 

They kept staring. 

Jason’s messy hair was somehow too black, his piercing eyes too blue. 

Images from his dream prodded at his mind until one suddenly broke through. He’d dreamt of Jason, but dream Jason had been taller. Older. His hair streaked with white and his eyes burning teal. Almost nothing like the young boy sitting in front of him, yet, somehow, undeniably the same person. He pushed down the nausea that came with remembering the other parts of his dream.

Something clicked as he settled more fully into consciousness. This dream wasn’t the first time he’d seen that version of Jason. Hazy memories from the night of Jason’s anniversary flooded his brain. Dick had been drunk and hadn’t thought much of it, but the Jason he saw that night matched the one he saw in his dream. That Jason had fought with him, then put him to bed. He’d cleaned Dick’s apartment and stayed to make sure he’d be okay. They’d talked as Jason smoked on the balcony. Things that didn’t quite make sense, but that Dick had written off, blaming it on his intoxication. 

And then he remembered what Tim had said. “I saw Jason when I was attacked at the tower. He had white in his hair.” It couldn’t be. There was no way, but Dick wasn’t dreaming, he wasn’t hallucinating.

Not about that at least. 

Jason was somehow alive. Then the implications of what that meant settled in.

Jason was alive. 

Jason was Red Hood. 

It couldn’t be, right?

——

It’d been a few months since Tim’s confession about what had happened at the Tower, a little longer still since he’d been last attacked. 

Red Hood, Jason, had gone to ground after that fateful night. He was obviously still running his operations, but the Bats hadn’t been able to find him. 

More evidence to add to the ever-growing pile that this really was his little brother, Bat-trained and back from the dead, instead of some twisted imposter. 

It took Dick some time, but he was more than willing to put in the effort. This wasn’t just the man who’d attacked his little brother and then went into hiding, this was his little brother. And, as much as the thought made him gag, he had to admit that at least some part of him was more motivated now at that fact. 

He split his time between Blüdhaven, Tim, and hunting for Red Hood. He didn’t tell anyone what he was doing, didn’t even risk going to Oracle for help. Though he knew that Babs would find out what he was doing if he gave her reason to look.

It was in the haunted time before dawn when Dick finally tracked him down.

An abandoned apartment complex in Crime Alley.

Dick didn’t know what to expect, and he knew he was being reckless, but he couldn’t put it off any longer now that he knew where Jason might be.

He suited up and headed out. 

——

Dick snuck in through a fourth-floor window. The fact that he had to disengage an alarm system confirmed that he was likely in the right place.

The room was dark as he crept in. He didn’t know what he was doing here. He hadn’t made a plan. He didn’t know if he was here to fight Jason, or to try to get him to come home. Not that even Dick himself considered the Manor home anymore.

Suddenly the lights clicked on and Dick froze. There was Red Hood, leaning casually in the doorway. If he was surprised to see Nightwing, he didn’t show it. “Well lookie lookie,” the mechanical voice grated out, “Seems a little birdie has lost their way.”

Dick’s mind flashed to the memory of Tim beaten and bloodied by the man who now stood before him and he growled out, “Hood,” before he remembered that this could also be Jason.

Hood flicked something on his helmet and his next words were purely, mockingly human, “Aww, what’s the matter? No hugs and kisses this time?” Dick knew logically what to expect, but hearing Jason’s voice, deeper and crueler now but unmistakably his, punched the air out of him. 

“Jason,” Dick whispered softly like this he’d make this false reality crumble if he spoke too loudly. Dick couldn’t risk being left to mourn his dead brother again. 

“Jason.” Dick’s voice broke over the name. “Is it really you?” He asked, not wanting to know the answer but needing to know all the same. 

Hood scoffed and reached for his helmet, it hissed as he tugged it off revealing the younger man’s face. A domino covered his eyes, but the shock of white in otherwise black hair confirmed Dick’s hopes and fears. His little brother wasn’t dead. He was alive. Jason was really alive.

Chapter Text

Always one for the dramatics, Jason ripped off his domino and glared at Dick. “What do you want Dickface? Here to take me in?”

Dick just stood there, stunned at the final confirmation that Jason really was alive. That he hadn’t been crazy, hadn’t been lying to himself. Despite all the evidence he’d gathered, and all the hopes he’d had, he hadn’t been able to fully silence the nagging voice in his head that this was just another hallucination, just another crazy dream being chased by a crazy man. But there Jason stood; breathing, solid, and really, actually real.

Jason drew his gun as Dick stared. The safety was left on for now, but that could change in a heartbeat.

“The only way to stop me is to kill me, Dick.” There was a certain weariness masked behind the scorn in his voice. “You’ll have to break the One Rule. Are you gonna save Tim like you wouldn’t save me? Is he worth it enough to you?” 

It finally clicked what Jason was saying and Dick took a sharp breath in. He tore off his mask, leveling the playing field, and finally made uninhibited eye contact with the man who used to be his little brother.

Jason’s finger twitched on the trigger as they continued staring, clearly anxious even if he didn’t show it any other way.

“Jason,” Dick breathed again and suddenly the gun was being leveled on his chest.

“Stop saying that!” Jason yelled, anger and hurt coating this tongue. “Stop acting like you care!”

Dick was shocked into silence and Jason continued, “You didn’t love me when I was alive. Why pretend like you care now?!”

Dick was pinned down by the sharp gaze, he couldn’t look away, couldn’t even think of a proper answer as he stared at his brother’s burning green eyes. “Little Wing,” he choked instead and Jason’s eyes flared at the nickname, “What happened to you?” 

Jason shifted defensively and his tone turned low and dangerous, “You don’t get to call me that. You don’t get to come in here and act like we’re family. Like you didn’t let me die and leave me to rot in my grave.” His volume grew. “You don’t get to get off scot-free when you replaced me and let my fucking murderer run loose! Actions have consequences, Dick ,” Jason practically spat the name and Dick flinched back, “and the consequence of being Robin is death.” Jason’s voice broke a little at that, “I died, and you replaced me. You just fucking left me. You let the Joker live. So don’t come in here acting like we’re family and like I matter, when I clearly never did.” Jason steadied himself and raised his gun. “Get the fuck out, Dick. And don’t come looking again.” 

“Lit-- Jason, please. Please. I know we fucked up, but Tim didn’t do anything! Take it out on me if you need revenge, but Tim’s innocent, all he did was try to help.” Dick was growing desperate. 

“No! None of you are innocent in this. You’re all complacent in my death and you will be in the Replacement’s as well!” Jason laughed almost manically, “ I could almost get replacing me if it didn’t mean another child is going to die, but you didn’t even avenge me! Sure! The Joker can kill and that’s okay! But I didn’t matter enough for my killer to be killed! I die and he’s still alive! Explain to me how that makes sense!” Jason’s eyes had gone crazed, but now they fully settled on Dick. They burned a terrible green and the anger made Dick feel sick to his stomach. “No words for once Big Bird?” Jason leveled the gun on Dick once more and spoke what Dick knew would be his last warning. “Then get the fuck out before I really make good on every Robin dying.” 

Dick wanted to stay. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to not leave, that this was his little brother and that he couldn’t just abandon him yet again. Despite that, he slowly turned and climbed back out the window without so much as a glance back into the room. 

----

Dick was still in a state of shock when he eventually made if back to his apartment. If he was fully honest with himself, even though the very thought of doing such a thing terrified him, he didn’t really remember how he’d managed to make it all the way back to Blüdhaven.

Dick knew he was in over his head. Logically, he knew what he needed to do. Mentally though, he didn’t know if he could make himself do it. It would’ve been bad enough if he’d done what he needed to the second he figured things out, but now he’d been hiding vital information for months.

Dick sat down heavily on his couch, not even bothering to change out of his suit, and pulled out his phone. He hesitated, then turned it on. 

Dick [08:32] Hey, Bruce.

Dick [08:32] I think we need to talk.

Dick let out a shaky breath as he stared at his phone. It was only then that he realized what time it was. God, he was tired. When was even the last time he slept? Bruce wouldn’t be awake right now and he hesitated to send the next text, but he was already in deep, so he figured he may as well. He knew what Bruce would say before he even asked, and he really didn’t want to, but Dick didn’t actually know if this would be any better over the phone. At least in person, he might be able to see Tim again.

Dick [08:35] Do you want to call me when you’re available? Or should I come to Gotham?

Dick lay down on the couch and closed his eyes. He really should change and shower before he went to sleep. He should probably even sleep in his bed instead of his couch, but he was tired in a way that wouldn’t be cured by sleep alone. All he could do was wait.

----

Bruce, for some forsaken reason, was awake. Or maybe Dick had woken him up with his spam texting. Either way, Dick hardly had a moment to rest before his phone was buzzing.

Bruce [8:39] Gotham. 10am. 

Of course, that’s all Dick would get. For all Bruce knew, Dick was going to tell him he was dying.

Somehow Dick thought Bruce might prefer that news over what Dick actually had to say.

Resigned to his fate, Dick dragged a blanket off the back of the couch and tried to get some sleep.

Chapter Text

Dick woke up a little while later groggy and not quite sure what had woken him. His body woke with a start, but his mind was lagging behind. Prying his eyes open, he slowly took in the view of his apartment from his awkward position on the couch. The chipping paint in the corner by the ceiling, the mysterious stain on the carpet by the hallway, and the TV that sometimes had to be “supportively smacked” in order to work. He took in the crick in his neck and the stiffness of his Nightwing suit. 

His Nightwing suit. 

He never changed last night. (This morning?) He’d just fallen asleep on the couch while waiting until it was time to head to Gotham to tell Bruce about--

Shit. To tell Bruce about Jason. How the hell was he supposed to tell Bruce that his dead son wasn’t actually dead? And not only that, but he was also a ruthless crime lord whose rise to power has been bathed in blood including that of the newest Robin. And like an idiot, Dick had slept instead of planning what he was going to say.

His phone buzzed and Dick scrambled to find it in the crevices of the couch. Only now realizing he hadn’t set an alarm and definitely didn’t know what time it was or if he’d overslept. It was only after the relief at seeing the bold 09:19 staring back at him had settled that he noticed a string of texts from Tim. That must’ve been what woke him up. 

Tim [09:02] B said you’re coming over this morning?

Tim [09:02] I’m definitely not complaining, but since when were you two talking?

Tim [09:04] I got a new video game I wanna play with you if we get the chance

Tim [09:15] Dude, are you asleep or something? B said you were coming over at 10 “to discuss important matters” 

Tim [09:18] you rn {attached gif: donald duck sleeping}

Dick felt like he’d been slapped across the face as he read the messages. For all his smarts and maturity, Tim really was still just a kid. He was so cute. He was so innocent. 

Dick had been worried about what he was going to tell Bruce and how he’d react, but what about Tim? Tim had idolized Jason as Robin. And now he was going to have to tell Tim that his hero wanted him dead? T

ears burned at Dick’s eyes as he tried to swallow past the building lump in his throat. He didn’t know if he could do this. What wouldn’t he give to fast forward into the future so that he wouldn’t have to live through this conversation. Or better yet, jump into the past. Back when things were simple and all he had to worry about was not getting caught sliding down the banister by Alfred. (Life wasn’t simple then, he’d still had his problems, and there would be no avoiding the extensive fallout of this conversation even if he skipped the conversation itself. That didn’t make having to walk out his door and start the drive to Gotham any easier.)

Dick turned on music before quickly switching it back off. His head was crowded enough without the added input of the radio. It occurred to him that he never texted Tim back so he shot off a quick “Can neither confirm nor deny. Omw” before turning his attention fully back to the road. Or as fully as it could be with the dread sitting heavy in his stomach and all his thoughts wrestling futilely to organize into a way forward where he didn’t completely destroy his family with this news.

----

The drive to Gotham when by in a flash and, all too soon, Dick was pulling into the driveway and parking in front of the Manor. He could’ve parked in the garage, but that felt too much like coming home, and Dick wasn’t sure the Manor had ever felt less like that than at this moment. 

Dick tried unsuccessfully to steel himself for what lay ahead as he stared pensively at the front door. After five minutes of just sitting and staring though, he was forced to accept that he’d never be ready for this conversation. “No time like the present,” he muttered dejectedly as he slowly climbed out of his car and headed up the front walkway. ( “to ruin your family’s lives” his brain not-so-helpfully tacked on.)  

Tim was waiting for him in the foyer. Bouncing on the balls of his feet and clearly having been waiting for him. “Dick!” He cried out excitedly as soon as they made eye contact. 

Despite the ache in his chest, Dick forced on his signature smile and some life into his voice as he called back, “Hey Tim! How are you?” He closed the door and held out his arms so Tim could come smash him in the hug he so clearly wanted to give. 

“I’m good! I’m so glad to see you! Do you think we’ll get a chance to play my new game or maybe we can get Alfred to let us make something? Or do you only have time ‘to discuss important matters’?” Tim babbled excitedly, making a clear mockery of Bruce’s gruff tone for the last part. 

It took everything Dick had not to break down crying at the guilt he felt for how he was about to bring Tim’s world crashing down. He struggled briefly for a response, but was saved when Bruce walked in. (And how long had it been since he could say that Bruce had saved him and how much did that thought hurt?)

“Dick,” he said curtly by way of acknowledgment. “You said we needed to talk.” Dick just stared and nodded back wordlessly, his mouth suddenly dry. “Perhaps we should head downstairs then?” Again, all Dick could do was nod. How was he going to tell Bruce everything when he felt like his tongue was tied to the roof of his mouth? “Very well,” Bruce said before shifting his attention to Tim, and it didn’t hurt at all how his voice soften ever so slightly, “Stay upstairs Tim.”

“Oh come on!” Tim whined, “But I wanna know what’s going on!” (Tim really wouldn’t if he knew what information he was seeking, but he’d have to find out eventually). Bruce had told Tim to stay and Dick didn’t know whether he wanted to argue that or not. Whether it would be better to tell them together or separately. And if he wanted to be the one to tell Tim or not. (He really didn’t, but he didn’t think he wanted Bruce to do it instead.) But he was struggling to find any words right now and was hesitant to start the inevitable fight any sooner than he had to, so he’d given Tim an apologetic look and followed Bruce down to the cave.

Chapter Text

Father and son were completely silent the entire way to the Batcave. Dick knew he was the one who asked to talk, but being there, seeing Bruce again. All he could think about was how much he didn’t want to talk. He knew what would happen. He also knew what would’ve happened if he’d had the audacity to tell Bruce Jason was back from the dead and killing people before Dick had gotten hard evidence, but that wouldn’t matter to Bruce. All Bruce would see is Dick being rebellious. Dick willingly withholding information. 

So, Dick stayed silent.

“Well?” Bruce asked proddingly after it became clear Dick wasn’t going to speak up. “Do you need help with something?”

Dick knew that was a reasonable question, they weren’t exactly on casual speaking terms. But they weren’t on casual speaking terms for a reason, so he snapped back. “God Bruce, do you really think that I’m such a fuck up that the only reason I’d talk to you is that I need you to bail me out of trouble?”

Bruce was as stoic as ever as he responded slowly like he was choosing his words carefully. “I’m sorry it came across that way.” 

“This-- urghhh. Why are you so insufferable?” Dick knew this wasn’t a good way to start the conversation, but something about Bruce just always set off the worst in him. He couldn’t be rational around the man. 

Bruce, to his credit, simply sighed heavily and stared scrutinizingly at Dick, as if he could figure out what Dick wanted to say if he just looked hard enough, instead of rising to the bait. They both sat in stubborn silence for a few minutes longer before Dick decided he’d had enough.

“Stop doing that.” Dick snapped. 

“Stop what, Dick?” Bruce sighed. 

“Analyzing me.”

“I’m not analyzing you. I’m watching you.”

“It’s the same thing, Bruce!” Dick cried out exasperated, “Ugh! We’re just going in circles!” Then, more to himself, he added, “This was an awful idea.”

“If you’re tired of circles, then stop beating around the bush, Dick.”

And on some level, Dick agreed. He’d never be able to break the news peacefully to Bruce, so he may as well get it over with as quickly as possible. That didn’t mean he wasn’t still pissed as Bruce though. “Oh yeah? You wanna know? Are you just dying to know why your estranged child is suddenly so desperate to speak to you?”

“Dick,” Bruce tried, tiredly. 

“No, Bruce! No! How about this! Your son’s alive! Jason’s alive and he’s a fucking murderer! How’s that for not beating around the bush, huh? Was that direct enough for you??”

Bruce sat there in stunned silence for a moment before his face darkened with anger. “I’m serious, Dick. Stop being so dramatic. If you aren’t going to tell me the truth of what’s going on then you can just leave.”

“Oh my god, I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t believe me and that’s why I didn’t want to tell you! I am being serious Bruce! Despite what you may think, I’m not some fucking idiot. I don’t know how and I don’t entirely know why, but Jason is back.” Bruce glared and looked like he was going to interrupt, but Dick didn’t give him the chance instead carrying on with a bitter, sarcastic intensity. “You know Red Hood? The guy who’s been running around, besting you at every turn? Same one who tried, repeatedly, to kill your newest toy soldier?” Why did Tim always get wrapped up as a pawn in their fights? “His moves ever ring a bell with you? Reminiscent of a certain Bat’s training perhaps?” 

Bruce stood up suddenly. “If you’re implying that Hood is Jason.” He said in a warning growl, but Dick cut him off.

“I’m not fucking implying it Bruce, I’m saying it! Hood and Jason are one and the same! Don’t believe me? I don’t care!” Dick gave a bitter laugh a bit of the energy leaving him, “I knew you wouldn’t take my word for it. I have proof.”

Bruce crossed his arms but sat back down. “What proof?”

“Mask footage, Bruce,” Dick said with quiet satisfaction at the solidity of his proof. “I saw his bare face.” Then with the smallest bit of grief and sympathy, “It’s him.”

“Then show it to me,” Bruce said, or more demanded, before rolling the chair to the side so Dick could pull up his footage. 

----

They watched the footage from the moment Dick climbed in the window to the moment he pulled off his mask. Dick was expecting a lecture for revealing himself to Red Hood, but Bruce was too focused on other aspected of the video.

“Again,” he said.

“Bruce,” Dick started.

“I said again. Have you run a digital analysis?”

“Bruce,” Dick tried again, more firmly. “You’re not going to find anything new the tenth time through. Either you believe me or you don’t.”

Finally, Bruce pulled his eyes away from the screen. He stared intensely into Dick’s eyes before asking, “How long have you know?”

Dick blew out a puff of air. There was no way this was going to go well. But Bruce would find out one way or another, so there was no point in lying to him now. “A couple of months,” he admitted.

Bruce’s gaze dropped as he repeated the sentence quietly to himself as if he were trying to figure out if he’d heard correctly. Suddenly, his eyes flicked back to Dick’s, anger burning in them. In a low voice Dick recognized all too well he asked, “You’ve known for months and yet you said nothing?” His voice rose in volume. “You’ve known for multiple months that Jason! My Son! Was alive?? And that he was killing people? That he tried to kill Tim? And you decided to just, what, keep this information to yourself?” 

And there it was. The indignant entitlement. “I didn’t “know” Bruce.I had a theory, and I needed proof. I got the proof and now you know. I fucking found out for certain this morning! And I didn’t tell you before now because I knew you wouldn’t believe me! Which you didn’t by the way. For all I know, you would’ve declared me insane and forbade me from having anything to do with Hood! And then where would we be, Bruce, huh? Still hunting for a madman? Still mourning my brother? He’s alive Bruce! And we can do something about it!”

And then, Bruce did something totally unexpected. Though maybe Dick really should’ve expected it. He sat back, looking eternally tired and totally defeated. There was no fight left in his voice when he said, “Hood is a madman. He’s a crime lord and he’s a murderer. And he needs to be brought to justice.” 

Dick felt like he’d been slapped across the face. He was stunned. He didn’t know what to do. “I-- he-- what?” He’d prepared himself for so many possibilities, so many arguments to help him win the fight no matter what path it took. But Bruce saying that Jason didn’t deserve to be saved, didn’t deserve to be brought back into the family? That was something he’d never have expected in a million years.

Dick turned and fled up the stairs.

Right into an eavesdropping Tim.

Chapter Text

Tim stared up at Dick from his hiding place on the stairs, guilt and hurt shining in his eyes. “Tim! I— What’re you?— fuck.” Dick grabbed at his hair trying to ground himself. “Fuck,” he whispered trying not to let out the tears that so desperately wanted to fall. “I—“

The emotion on Tim’s face flickered and then disappeared. Tears did fall from Dick’s eyes at that, just more evidence of his failures and the hurt he’s caused his family. He took a gasping breath as Tim stared up blankly at him. Dick needed to comfort him. Tell him it’s okay. Explain everything to him. But it was all so much. Dick’s thoughts were so loud and he couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t do this. 

With one last guilty look at Tim, Dick tore himself away and ran up into the Manor.

He stumbled his way through the grandfather clock and took off. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. All he could think about was getting away. From Bruce, from Tim. From his thoughts. From himself. Dick just wanted it all to stop. 

It could’ve been an eternity or 30 seconds when he burst through a door. His legs gave out beneath him and he crashed to the floor with a gasping breath. The fall should’ve hurt, but all he could feel was tingly numbness. It might’ve been oxygen deprivation from hyperventilating, but that didn’t matter now. All Dick could think about was the hurt he’d caused. His family would be so much better off if he’d never gotten involved with them.

God, despite how much Dick knew he didn’t deserve it, all he wanted was his family’s comfort. He wanted Tim’s excited hugs and Jason’s bright laugh. He wanted Bruce’s firm hand on his shoulder and his Mom’s gentle fingers in his hair. 

Dick let out a sob as his stiff fingers pulled at his hair, failing to simulate to comfort he so desperately wanted. He missed his parents so much. It would’ve been better for everyone if Dick had just fallen with them. 

Somewhere in his consciousness, he registered soft footsteps approaching from behind him. He hadn’t heard the door open, but he couldn’t remember if he’d closed it. Whoever it was walked around him before stopping and standing just outside his view from where he lay curled on the ground. 

“Pathetic.” Dick flinched like he’d been kicked. “Worthless waste of space. Everybody really would be better off without you. All you’ve ever done is hurt people and it’s all you ever will do.”

Dick forced himself to uncurl enough to look at the person speaking and let out a whimper as he stared into the bloodied face of his little brother. He shot up into a sitting position as Jason smirked cruelly down at him. “What? Not ready to face the consequences of your actions?”

“Little Wing-” He choked out, throat tight around the name. Jason’s smirk dropped into a glare, one eye still covered by a broken domino as the other burned with hatred. 

“You don’t get to call me that.” He stepped closer to Dick now towering menacingly over him. “You don’t get to act like we’re family. Like you didn’t let me die and leave me to rot in my grave!” As Dick watched, blood began dripping down from Jason’s hairline, slowly painting his face before puddling on the ground. “You don’t get to get off scot-free when you replaced me and let my fucking murderer run loose!” The edges of Jason’s cape were smoldering, slowly eating away at the material as the flames cast haunted shadows around the room. Somewhere in the distance, a soft ticking could be heard, slowly growing louder until it was ringing in Dick’s ears. “Actions have consequences, Dick , and the consequence of being Robin is death.”

Jason dropped to his knees in front of Dick, now eye to eye with him as he gasped for breath through fractured ribs. He laughed then. Low and crazed. “All of us are gonna die, Dick. Can’t you see? That’s the fate of Robin! That’s the fate you and Bruce doomed all of us to.” He pulled out a gun, spinning the barrel before lifting it to his head with broken, bloodied fingers. The gun clicked. “Again.” Jason pulled the trigger once more, “And again.” The ticking stopped as Jason gave Dick a bloody smile, the sudden silence threatening to drown him until Jason broke it with a whisper, “And again.” The gun went off and Dick slammed his hands against his ears, sobbing as he watched his brother fall to the ground. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Dick scrambled forward, mindless of the blood beneath him as he searched desperately for a pulse as he knelt before the testament of his failures. “JASON!” Dick slammed his fists into his legs. Pain pulsed through them and Dick repeated the action. “Fuck! Why?!” 

He stood up suddenly and nausea rolled through him as the world spun. Dick stared down at his brother tears blurring his vision until he could hardly see.  He scrubbed furiously at his eyes. Dick had failed in the past. He’s failing in the present and is terrified of how much more he’ll fail in the future. He slumped against the wall digging his fingers into his palms. 

“It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.”

Except that it was. 

Jason had been alive again even if his corpse now lay at Dick’s feet, blood slowly running cold and body turning stiff. He’d told Dick exactly what he thought. He’d said exactly what Dick already knew. Dick was to blame for all of this. 

It had been bad enough living worrying that Jason would blame them for his death but to keep living knowing that he did? Dick dug his nails in harder then banged his head back against the wall as sharp pain shot up his arm. 

Dick’s gaze fell again to the body in front of him before he quickly looked away. Glinting silver caught his eye and Dick focused on it if only so he didn’t have to keep looking at his little brother. The gun. 

He had to push down nausea once more as he stared at it. Every Robin. It was fate. 

Something in his brain screamed that this was wrong, that he needed to stop, needed to leave, but he found himself walking forward and crouching down. 

He reached out and picked it up, the heavy weight in his hand somehow making him feel lighter even as dread churned in his gut. Every Robin. Was he ready to face the consequences of his actions?

Chapter Text

The door slammed open and Dick flinched, the gun falling from his grasp as he turned.

“Master Dick?” Alfred asked somewhat breathlessly. “Are you quite alright?” 

Dick choked on a sob. “Alf.” He wrapped his arms around himself, voice breaking. “Please.” 

Alfred’s masked concern turned into blatant worry. Walking into the room and turning on the lights, he crouched down next to Dick and started looking him over. “Are you hurt?” 

Dick shook his head, squeezing his arms tighter. His hands were bleeding a little and he had various bruises across his body, but medical attention wasn’t what he needed right now. “Please.”

“Please what, my boy? What do you need?” Alfred asked gently. 

“Make it stop.” Dick gasped, sobbing harder. “Please just make it stop.” 

Alfred sighed heavily, placing a frail hand on Dick’s back. “I hate to keep questioning, but what do you need me to stop?”

“There’s blood. There’s so much blood, Alf.” He stared up at the old butler with wide, fearful eyes. “He’s dead and it’s all my fault.” Dick broke, putting his head in his hands as he cried. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered with a jagged breath. 

Alfred made a wounded noise, wrapping Dick into a hug before trying to help him to his feet, but Dick just sat there staring at his little brother. “Come now,” Alfred attempted to soothe, “It’s okay. It’s not real.” 

“It is!” Dick yelled, pushing out of Alfred’s grasp frantic as he watched the growing halo of blood pooling around Jason. How could Alfred stand there and say it wasn’t real? Didn’t he see? Didn’t he see what Dick had done? Jason was dead and it was all Dick’s fault. It was his fault in the past and it was his fault in the present. He’d only be responsible for the deaths of more Robins in the future if he were allowed to continue. 

Dick jolted as a hand squeezed his shoulder. He tore his eyes away to look into the worried face in front of him. Alfred’s mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear anything above the ringing in his ears. The ticking was gonna start again, just like it had the last time his ears started ringing, and Dick just knew that Alfred would be the one to die when it stopped this time. Dick had to stop it. 

His gaze slipped back to the gruesome scene before him before his body was shaken and his eyes snapped back to Alfred.

“Look at me.” Alfred said firmly, though not unkindly. “Keep your eyes on me my dear boy.” If he’d been more aware, he would’ve heard the begging that slipped into Alfred’s tone. As it was, Dick just gasped as he tried futilely to draw enough oxygen into his spasming lungs. But he eventually managed a small, jerky nod as more tears tracked down his face. 

Alfred’s tone was urgent as he continued. His grasp still tight on Dick’s shoulder to help ground him. “I do not know what you see, but I can assure you that it is not real.” Dick sobbed again, eyes trying to slip back past Alfred’s figure before he leaned to block Dick’s view. 

“Whatever you think has happened has not. You were alone in this room and now it is just you and I. Trust me on our history if you cannot trust my words against your mind.” 

Dick slumped forward into Alfred’s arms, somehow sobbing even harder than before. “I can’t do it Alf. I’m not strong enough, I can’t do it.”

Alfred wrapped his arms tightly around his pseudo-grandson as he crooned soft comforts and hushes. “Oh my dear boy, you have been required to be far too strong for far too long.” He said it quietly enough that Dick wasn’t sure whether those words had been meant for him or for the universe. He stayed quiet as he listened to Alfred, struggling to slowly bring his breathing back under control. 

Eventually, Dick shifted in the old man’s careful grasp. His whole body hurt and he felt more tired than ever before. 

“Get me outta here, Alf,” he croaked quietly. “Please.”

Alfred’s arms briefly tightened, before pulling away and offering a supporting hand for dick to grab onto instead. “Of course.” He said gently. “Come now.” Dick stood on shaking legs, but they somehow managed to support his weight, though Alfred kept a hold of Dick, ready to support him should he need it. 

He started guiding Dick to the door. “Let’s get you out of this room and down to the Cave. I’ll check you out and then make you some tea. How’s that sound my dear boy?” 

Dick had been pliant before, but he froze at the mention of the cave. “No, no, no.” He started struggling out of Alfred’s careful grasp. “Not the cave. Bruce is down there. He-- I can’t. Please not the Cave.” 

Alfred gently grabbed Dick’s wrist, soothing his thumb across its underside. “Very well. Not the Cave. The kitchen then?” 

Relief flooded Dick and he nodded before following Alfred out of the family wing towards the kitchen. 

Dick couldn’t help the way his breath caught jaggedly in his chest when he took one last glance into the room as they passed through the doorway. Gone was the blood, the body and the gun. The only evidence anything had happened in this room were the swaths of cleaner hardwood sweeping erratic paths across the dusty floor. 

Alfred was a meticulous man, kept a tidy house, but this was a room that was supposed to go untouched by all but time. Even as relief passed through him at the empty image of the room, he couldn’t help the guilt that churned at sight of the now broken sanctuary. 

----

Dick sat numbly as Alfred worried over the shallow cuts on his hands. He cleaned and bandaged them while Dick stared blankly at the fridge, not even flinching when Alfred poured antiseptic on the wounds. It should’ve burned, Dick knew that, but knowing what it was supposed to feel like didn’t make it feel any less numb. 

“Alf?” It was barely a whisper, croaked out into the heavy silence, but Alfred heard it anyway. He hummed gently, glancing up at Dick briefly before continuing to wrap Dick’s palms in soft gauze. 

“Do you—” Dick swallowed and cleared his throat, “Do you think I’m a failure?” Alfred glanced up again. 

“And what makes you ask that?” He queried instead of answering. 

“It’s just that, I feel like all I do is mess things up. I messed things up with Jason and with Bruce, and now I’ve messed up with Tim. He overheard me fighting with Bruce and I—” Dick hung his head before continuing softly, “I got carried away and said some stuff I shouldn’t have. Tim heard some pretty hurtful shit.”

Alfred tutted, “Language, Master Dick,” he chided before continuing, “Then it does sound like you’ve made a mistake, but a mistake, even many, does not make one a failure. You will only have failed if you fail to try to make recompense. Do what you can do now instead of mourning what you did do then.” Alfred patted Dick’s bandaged hands before beginning to clean up the medkit. 

“Now then, I do believe there is a hurt young boy in need of some support.”

Dick laughed self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, I’ll go find him.” He stood to leave but stopped in the doorway. “And Alf?” Alfred looked up from his tidying. “Thank you. For everything.”

Alfred smiled gently, “Always.”

Chapter Text

Dick stood outside Tim’s door for far longer than he was proud of. This was his little brother, he shouldn’t be procrastinating talking to him especially when Dick knew how much Tim needed comfort right now. But that was the thing, Tim needed comfort because Dick had hurt him.

Still, Dick had to try to fix it, and so, with one last shaky breath, Dick knocked on the door. 

It turns out that he could’ve knocked much earlier and still had plenty of time to anxiously wait around because Tim didn’t answer despite Dick being able to hear him moving about inside the room.

After 15 minutes and knocking for the third time, Dick called out. “Tim? I know you’re in there. I’m so sorry. I just wanna talk. Could you please open the door?”

The rummaging inside ceased and Dick worried that Tim might’ve escaped out the window, but a moment later he heard the lock click and the door swung violently inward to reveal a seething Tim, face blotchy from crying but dry from any current tears. “What do you want, Dick?” When Tim said his name, it sounded so much more like an insult than it usually did.

And Dick just stood there stunned. He’d seen Tim upset before sure, but never like this. He’d pretty much only seen Tim shut down when things went wrong. The burning anger wasn’t something he’d ever seen from Tim before. It scared him. He was suddenly terrified that he’d gone too far and he’d never be able to recover from this.

Still, he had to try.

“Tim, please--” he tried, but Tim cut him off.

“Can it, Dick. I’ve had enough of your two-faced personality, but I get that I was wrong about everything--about us--so I’m done.” 

He turned harshly and stalked further back into his room. Despite Dick clearly not being welcome, the door hadn’t been slammed in his face, so he desperately followed Tim. 

Tim pointedly ignored Dick’s presence as he stuffed his few personal items into a duffle bag laying on his bed.

“Tim please,” Dick begged, “I don’t know what all you heard, but this has to be a misunderstanding, just give me a chance to explain.”

Tim paused from his packing and finally spoke, though he didn’t turn to face him. 

“Toy soldier, right Dick?” Tim scoffed and Dick froze. “That’s what I am to you all. All I am. A nuisance you keep around because I can be useful.” He took a shaky breath. “Well, it looks like you got the original model back so I’ll leave you and your family be.” He shoved his last shirt into his bag and yanked the zipper shut. Finally, Tim turned around and Dick could see the tears glistening in his eyes. Defiant but broken, he said, “I know you all wished Jason was still Robin. I know I was just a replacement, but, for a moment there, I thought of you as a brother.” Tim grabbed the single bag off his bed and shoved passed Dick. “I’m sorry I thought wrong.” 

Dick reached out and grasped Tim’s wrist desperate to make him stay to make him understand. “No, Tim, please!” He begged, “You don’t understand. I said things I should’ve but it wasn’t really about you.” 

And at those words, Tim’s quiet fury exploded. Tears started freely falling as he turned and yelled at Dick. “And that’s the problem!! That’s the fucking problem, Dick! It’s never about me! I’m just a placeholder, making due until someone else comes along! You didn’t even want me in the beginning, so stop pretending and acting so desperate to keep me here now!”

Tim yanked his wrist from Dick’s grasp and left without so much as a glance back.

Dick watched him go frozen despite how much he wanted to stop Tim. He wanted to tell him that he had it all wrong. That Dick did love Tim like a brother. That he wasn’t just a placeholder. And that he was a good Robin, an amazing Robin. One who had earned the title in a way Dick and Jason never had. But Dick said none of those things. He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t breathe. He watched Tim go and didn’t stop him. 

----

Dick left. He had no reason to be at the Manor anymore. His brothers wanted nothing to do with him and his dad was on a vicious crusade and couldn’t be reasoned with. At this point, Dick thought, maybe even knew, that they would all be better off without him. He couldn’t breathe.

So he left.

----

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he should call into work. He’d been missing a lot lately and he’d probably be fired soon if he wasn’t already. That wasn’t his priority right now though. He couldn’t breathe and that felt like more of a priority. He definitely should still call. At least an email.

He didn’t do either.

----

Dick was driving somewhere. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going or even when he had started driving, but it was better than the Manor so he kept going.

----

Dick was sitting on the side of the road. Pulled into some random turn-off. He couldn’t breathe. Why wasn’t he in his car? Why was he sitting in the dirt? He couldn’t breathe. Even as Dick struggled to piece himself back together, the world around him kept cracking further apart. He couldn’t breathe. 

----

Dick was in his apartment. 

He could breathe.

And, he was definitely drunk.

Dick vaguely recalled buying the alcohol. Mostly remembered being both disappointed and relieved that that girl Daisy hadn’t been working. 

He didn’t remember making it back to his apartment or opening any of the bottles.

He shrugged. Better this than trying to fix anything else. At least this way he was only fucking up his own life and not anyone else’s. He’s done more than enough of that to last at least, umm 7? Sure yeah, 7, lifetimes. 

Maybe drunk had been too strong of a word. The crushing weight of his failures was still too heavy. He was too cognizant still. Well, one surefire way to fix that. He took another burning swallow of--he glanced down to read the label--vodka apparently and continued towards his goal of not being able to remember today.

Chapter Text

Dick was hungover when he walked into work the next morning, fake smile plastered on, and eternally grateful for the Saint known as Alfred for having called in a family emergency and explaining his sudden absence. Dick wasn’t ever willing to pull the Wayne card, but Alfred had no such reservations, and, albeit begrudgingly, Dick had to admit that the heavy weight of that name did come with some perks. He received a few extra head-nods and, “good to have you back” comments, but was primarily ignored. That suited Dick just fine. 

He settled in his desk, already cringing at the thought of how many emails would be waiting for him as he booted up his computer. A few pens were scattered across his desk from where past Dick had left them the last time he’d sat here. When even was that? Should he be more concerned that he didn’t know or that he didn’t care?

Either way, a pen found its way into his hands and he absently twirled it around his fingers as his computer ran through the required updates after being abandoned for so long. 

Every second seemed to lag and Dick silently bemoaned the long workday ahead of him as the computer finally loaded the home screen. 

Dick was just about to open his email when his supervisor knocked on the wall of his cubicle. 

“Morning Grayson, good to have you back.” He said perfunctorily. 

Dick groaned internally, already guessing where this was going before he pasted on his signature smile as he spun around his chair. “Morning supes! How ya doing?”

“Good good,” he said distractedly. Obviously neither one of them was excited for what would be said next, “Look, I’m just here to tell you that you’ve been assigned desk duty for the next little while. Can’t have a distracted officer in the field and all that. You should already have some case files waiting in your email.” 

Dick kinda wanted to cry but he couldn’t let his mask slip, “Yeah of course! I totally understand. I’ll get right on those.”

His supervisor hesitated for a second longer, looking like he might say something else, before he knocked once more on the wall, apparently deciding against it. “Well, have a good one Grayson,” he bade before turning to walk away. 

“Yeah you too!” Dick called back. He spun back towards his desk before dropping his head against the back of the chair, squeezing his eyes shut. He understood, really he did. But the thing was, he was desperately in need of a distraction right now. He couldn’t function with the phantoms of his failures hovering in the corner of his vision. He couldn’t function knowing how badly he’s messed everything up. Paperwork wasn’t gonna cut it for keeping his mind occupied enough to not implode. 

But, it was his only option. 

He opened his email and couldn’t quite stop his groan at the number of waiting messages. 

Today was going to be a very, very long day. 

——

The next several weeks passed in a haze. Dick wouldn’t let himself slow down enough to think for even a second. He couldn’t let himself slow down. Thinking was simply not an option right now. 

One perk of his newfound obsession with staying busy was getting back on active duty. He’d been performing well as far as his bosses could tell and they were eager to have him patrolling again since Nightwing hadn’t been seen in almost a month. It was ironic and made his guilt weigh heavier, but it was also so relieving to be back on the beat that Dick didn’t care.

He hardly cared about anything anymore, but he couldn’t be bothered to even care about that. 

He went to work. 

He went home. 

He suited up. 

He panicked. 

Sometimes he’d cry; sometimes he’d throw up; almost every time, he drank. 

The cycle repeated. 

——

It was a—something—night. It didn’t matter beyond the fact that he knew he had work in the morning. He was on his couch, half sitting, half laying. 

Entirely drunk. 

Dick told himself that he wasn’t wallowing, he wasn’t cowering. He was doing everyone a favor by staying away. Tim didn’t want to see him. Bruce would rather he didn’t exist. Hell, for all he knew, Bruce and Tim were partying it up over in Gotham, celebrating the fact that Dick finally stopped pestering them.

All it took was a long swallow of whiskey to burn the thought from his mind. Alcohol truly was a wonderful thing Dick had decided. 

——

Quiet static listened from the other end as Dick held the phone tightly to his ear. “Yurr a gud Rob’n, Tim. Yur so gud,” he slurred across the line. He’d called Tim and had been sent immediately to voicemail, he pretended that hadn’t cut deep, but it didn’t stop him from trying to fix things. “Bedder n’me. Smarter a-and kinder and,” he cut himself off with a choking breath, “and I know i’s selfish of me, but I m’ss you s‘much, so much.” It was quiet for a minute before Dick continued softly, “Wan’ you t’be okay.

“Yur not jus’ a toy soljer. Yur m’brother, I miss you bein’ my brother.” He laughed brokenly, “but I’ll stay ‘way if you wan’. I jus’ wan’ you t’be okay,” Dick hesitated now, wondering if it was a monumentally bad idea to say his next words. He said them anyway though it was so quiet it could hardly be heard, “Love you, Timmy.”

Dick hung up and sat staring dizzily at his phone. The image of a grinning Tim stared back at him from the contact page. Mocking him as the world spun slightly. The screen eventually dimmed and went black, but Dick continued staring, silently hoping it would light up again. Even if it was a text telling him to fuck off, it’d be better than nothing.

He could see his own reflection now, desperate and sad. He kept wishing it would disappear, but it didn’t until the phone slid from his grasp and landed between his legs on the couch. 

——

The world was spinning. Dick didn’t know how he’d ended up on the floor instead of his bed, but he couldn’t really be bothered to figure it out right now. He was currently too busy cursing his past self for not drinking enough water and leaving him nauseous enough that he wasn’t sure he could get up off the floor without throwing up. This spinny feeling wasn’t anywhere near as fun as when he was drunk.

Something was buzzing somewhere. Maybe it was just in his head? He tried to ignore it. 

It eventually stopped only to start up again. 

He really needed to go out as Nightwing sometime soon. It had been just over two months since everything had gone down with Bruce and Tim and just as long since he’d been able to get himself to patrol. 

The nausea had died down a little and, at this point, he didn’t think waiting would make it any easier. Maybe this was one of those getting back on the horse things, or whatever the saying was.

He rolled over and pulled himself to his hands and knees, head hanging as black spots danced in the corners of his vision. It only took a minute before he was able to stand. Dick didn’t bother showering since he’d just do that when he got back, but he did quickly brush through his tangled hair before stripping and tugging on the suit. 

He pointedly did not look in the mirror at any point during the process, even though it would’ve made putting on the mask a lot easier. The panic was squeezing around his chest enough as is, he didn’t need a reminder of how far he’d fallen. The world was hazy around him as he slipped out the window, but he had a duty to this city and he’d shirked it for far too long already.

——

There’s blood on his hands and Nightwing doesn’t know if it’s real or not. The world around him pulses in time with his heartbeat and all he can hear is ringing.

He stumbles forward, tripping on the rooftop gravel as the city lights swim. There’s so much blood. Was someone dead because of him? Had he saved someone? Had he killed someone? 

——

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. 

Dick repeated the mantra to himself as he showers, scrubbing the nonexistent blood from his body. The only problem was that he still couldn’t tell whether it actually was real or not. 

——

People were staring at him at work. Everyone could tell that he was losing it and it was just a matter of time before they called him out and this whole charade, the only thing he had left going for him, came crashing down. 

His leg bounced rapidly as he tried to focus on his newest burglary case, but all he could pay attention to were the mutterings and whispers in the background. He wanted so badly to believe that everyone wasn’t talking about him, but he just couldn’t convince himself. 

Dick got up to refill his coffee cup, perhaps not the best idea given how ansty he was, but he was going to rip out his hair if he stayed at his desk even a second longer. 

Dick was standing in the break room, waiting for a new pot to boil, and just minding his business. “Grayson!” Dick jumped and whirled around with wide eyes. 

“Woah! Geez, chill man. No one’s out to getcha.” Anders raised his hands in surrender from where he stood in the doorway. Dick didn’t know him beyond office small-talk but he was one of the less corrupt cops as far as Blüdhaven standards went. “Just wanted to know if you wanted to grab some lunch with me and a few of the others.”

Dick tried not to let his suspicion at the random invitation show, but he wasn’t sure how successful he was. “There a special occasion I don’t know about?”

A proud smile broke out across Anders’ face, “Hell yeah my man! You’re looking at the newest lieutenant of our glorious BPD!” 

Dick had been in line for that promotion once upon a time and he tried not to let the news sting. “Oh congrats! That’s great to hear!” The enthusiasm rang fake to Dick’s ears but he didn’t know whether or not he was the only one that could hear it. “I’d love to but I’m actually swamped with a case right now.”

Anders was still grinning, clearly he didn’t actually care whether Dick came or not, “Aww that’s too bad! We’ll miss you but good luck on your case then man.” He had already started walking away by the time he finished talking. 

“Thanks! And congrats again, Anders.” Dick forced his voice to stay cheerful but didn’t bother with pasting on a smile when no one would see it. 

With a heavy sigh, he turn back to the coffee machine, refilled his mug, and resigned himself to another endless day of work. 

At least the voices were a little easier to drown out now that fewer people were in the office.

——

Dick knew he was consistently going out as Nightwing now. Only problem was, he only ever remembered bits and pieces of any of his patrols. A mugging here, a stakeout there. It should be concerning, but he was just glad he was managing to patrol again. He didn’t want to think about what would happen if Bruce had decided to get involved those several weeks ago when Dick couldn’t even look at the suit without feeling sick. 

He didn’t even know why Nightwing had become such a struggle for him. It used to represent freedom. Independence. Hope. 

Now, all he could think about was the pain and suffering it had brought his family. That he had brought his family. 

Maybe he resented Nightwing because even that perfect hero hadn’t been able to redeem him. Maybe he actually just resented himself. 

It had been long enough that he could almost consider it a new normal. Sure he hadn’t heard from or checked in on his family in months, but it was clearly better that way. Perhaps not for him, but it had to be better for them or they would have reached out. 

Going down that line of thinking tended to end at the bottom of a bottle. He went down that rabbit hole more than he wanted to and tonight had been especially hard.

His phone weighed heavily in his hand, a glorified paperweight for all the use it got these days. Well, he played Candy Crush on it so that was unfair to his second favorite method for escaping reality. 

Dick had been considering calling Tim again, but that seemed pretty pointless at this point. He probably had Dick’s number blocked now that he thought about it. The realization hurt more than he cared to admit. 

After debating it for a while longer, he exchanged his phone for a glass of whiskey. It was the beginning of his weekend after all, he deserved some relief.

Chapter Text

“My dad was a drunk you know. You’re getting to be a lot like him.”

Something pang in Dick’s chest before he groaned and glared over at where Jason was sitting on the counter.

“You’re not even fucking real. What do you want?”

Jason casually started swinging his legs,  “Who’s to say I’m not real?”

“Me,” Dick shot back from where he was slumped against the couch.

Jason quirked his head. “Yeah but you’re drunk, so I don’t think your opinion counts.”

Dick groaned again, “Fine then. You’re the Ghost of Christmas Past, I’m Ebeneezer Scrooge, and you’ve come to warn me about how bleak my future will be if I continue down my current path. Well guess what ghostie? You’re dead and I’ve already fucked up my life so fucking leave me be.” Dick pointedly grabbed the bottle sitting on the floor before stomping away to his room.

Jason was already laying upside down on the bed, head hanging off the side. “You could talk to him ya know.”

“For the love of-! Fine! I give up. Who Jason? Who could I talk to? Tim? He wants nothing to do with me. Bruce? I want nothing to do with him! Fucking you?? Been there, tried that!

“I’m done! Just leave! Me! Alone!!” Dick was yelling now but he was too angry to care about any potential noise complaints.

“Geez fine. Run away then,” was Jason’s response.

Dick glared at him before turning and stalking into the attached bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and locked it. He knew it wouldn’t actually do anything to stop Jason if he wanted in, but the satisfaction of the loud bang made it worth it anyway.

He sat heavily on the toilet and took another swig of the tequila. It nearly made him gag every time he drank it, but it was the only alcohol left in his apartment right now and, at the end of the day, alcohol was alcohol. He didn’t even remember who had gifted the bottle to him, but he silently sang their praises as the world dulled around him.

It was easier to breathe like this, easier to exist.

Dick sat there with his mind buzzing pleasantly and his thoughts dampened until he tasted salt on his lips and abruptly realized he was crying. Reality rushed back in and made the grief he’d so carefully tucked away come crushing down around him. Soon, he was gasping for air as aching sobs tore out of him.

He was so alone and he missed his family so much. All Dick had ever wanted was to help people, but it felt like everything he touched fell apart.

Some birds soared, some crashed into closed windows.

Dick didn’t know how long he sat there crying, but he didn’t feel any better when the tears eventually slowed. He felt like he’d die if he was alone any longer. Hell, he’d even take the berating presence of Jason if it meant he had some semblance of company.

The world slanted as he stood up and Dick had to grab at the counter to keep from falling over. He had to take some slow breaths first, but Dick managed to make it back to his bedroom without incident.

A quick glance around revealed no trace of Jason, as if he’d never been there. Which well— yeah.

It didn’t make it hurt any less.

——

Dick didn’t know what time it was, The light from his window had slid across the room as he lay numbly on his bed. It was beginning to dim, its warm glow abandoning him like everything else.

When Dick had first come to the Manor, he’d been terrified of the dark that swathed his bedroom at night.

He’d grown up sleeping out under the stars, cuddled up close to his parents, the pinpricks blanketing over him and keeping him safe. He’d lost all his safety and comfort in one fell swoop.

Bruce and Alfred were kind and tried to make his room comfortable, but every time the lights flicked off, the darkness seemed to close in around him, choking him as it tried to reunite him with his parents. Bruce had been baffled initially because Dick never struggled while out on patrol, but he’d start sobbing the second he was put to bed and wouldn’t stop until he’d cried himself to sleep.

Eventually, Bruce had figured out that it was the stars that made the difference. Pillars of literal light that held the dark ceiling safely aloft. Dick soon had glow-in-the-dark stars scattered liberally across his bedroom ceiling and walls and he was finally able to sleep.

——

Dick stared up at his empty ceiling as the night grew darker. He’d tried hanging stars up when he’d first moved in, desperate for something from home when he felt like he’d lost it all, but it was one of those textured ceilings that made it hard for anything to stick properly. Not old bubbles of asbestos popcorn, but one that looked like someone had taken a sponge to it while the paint was still wet. It created flowing crests and valleys, jagged peaks and graceful swirls.

Even though Dick didn’t need the stars to sleep anymore, something had ached in his chest as he once again lost his stars and his family at the same time.

It wasnt as good as the stories the stars painted, but he’d learned over time to find pictures in the texture like one would with clouds.

As Dick watched now, the pictures slowly but surely appeared. He found a bear’s face first, but the rest of its body soon formed itself. Following that, if he squinted his eyes just right, he could imagine the unicycle it was riding on, just like the one at Haley’s Circus.

Soon it was less the ceiling he was seeing and more just a memory. The roving spotlights and the jovial ringmaster as he bellowed out the next act. The tigers and elephants and all of their tricks. The acrobats and their—

Dick's ceiling came back into view in such sharp relief that he tensed for a moment fearing that it was going to come crashing down on him, but it stayed held above him and all he was left with was an empty ache where his heart should be. It felt like going too long without a hug; though, in a way, he supposed that’s exactly what it was.

It was Painful.

It was Lonely.

It was his life now and it was all his fault.

——

Where was it? Where was it?!

He couldn’t stay here anymore. He couldn’t be alone. His apartment was beginning to feel like a grave and he couldn’t stand it.

Dick rummaged around frantically trying to find his suit. He knew it had to be here somewhere but he couldn’t remember where he tossed it after patrol the other night.

Finally, he found it crumpled up under his bed, and, wasting no time getting changed, Dick quickly thought up a plan. Obviously he couldn’t go to the Cave or actually talk to any of his family members, but maybe he could still check in on them. He’d just have to stay at a distance.

He could do that. And, if anyone confronted him about being in Gotham, he could use the excuse of the drug ring he’d been meaning to look into that was taking root in both Gotham and Blüdhaven.

He pasted on his domino, and with one last glance around his messy apartment, he quickly climbed out his window.

——

Dick didn’t remember much about his ride to Gotham. Just the rushing air in his face and the blissful lack of desperate, lonely thoughts.

Now, he was camped out on a roof waiting for his target to meet up with one of their suppliers. It was boring, and cold, and he was aching for a drink to ease the passage of time, but he had to stay focused. If Barbara, who hadn’t talked to him in months, looked into what he was doing, he needed to have done his snooping first and it needed to be by the books.

Just 40 more minutes he reminded himself, then he could look into what the other Bats were doing. He was so close.

——

Dick was at a club. The music was thumping in his chest and sweaty bodies were pressing in on all sides. Roving bands of color flashed across the room as Dick swayed. His thoughts weren’t quite quiet, perhaps more like drowned out, but either way, the reprieve felt so good. He let himself enjoy the buzz and the comfort of anonymity and just relaxed.

——

Dick didn’t feel good anymore. Nausea was bubbling in him and the bodies were crowding around. Writhing and choking of his air. He needed out and he needed it now.

He clumsily pushed his way through the sea of people desperately trying to find an exit. He finally broke through the edge of the dance floor. The lights were making him dizzy and he struggled to find an exit sign among all the shifting colors, but his eyes finally snagged on one and rushed towards it, not caring about the people he stumbled into in the process.

He pushed through the door and his unsteady momentum sent him stumbling across the alley, tripping and falling to his knees.

Dick’s stomach clenched and he gagged, but the nausea won out and he lost his meager dinner and all the alcohol left in his stomach to the dirty alley ground.

“Oh shit man! You good?” Someone asked. A man he noted distantly. Dick hadn’t realized someone else was out here not that it really mattered.

Dick heaved again in response, but nothing came up which wasn’t all that surprising considering he hadn’t had very much in him in the first place.

The world tilted as Dick turned to sit heavily before he collapsed in his own sick and he awkwardly scooted back until he was slumped against the grimy wall.

Dick kept his eyes closed even as he heard the concerned man stepping a little closer, the scent of cigarettes mixing with his nausea and forcing him to suppress a gag.

“Hey. You okay?” The man had stopped what seemed like a probably safe distance away, not that Dick had the energy to care right now, and Dick just hummed tiredly in response.

“Gonna need a better response than that. Did’ja take anything other than alcohol?”

The man was strangely insistent. And Dick wanted to just ignore him but something made him respond. “No,” he slurred “just drinks, no drugs. Never drugs.”

The stranger huffed in relief stepping just a little closer.

“Okay. That’s good. Can I get you anything? Water, some pret—“ he cut himself off suddenly and the tone shifted from concerned to dumbfounded. “Dick?! What the fuck??”

He blinked at the sound of his name, squinting at the blurry figure until they become slightly more focused. Then he drops his head back against the brick with a groan, forcing himself to be more present, more aware. “I can’t do this right now, Jason.”

All concern and surprise is gone from Jason’s face now, replaced with an irritated glare. “I was here first Dickhead. You don’t even live in Gotham. What’re you doing here?”

Dick hummed tiredly. “Drinking, obviously. Relaxing.”

Jason was clearly still irritated but he quirked an eyebrow at that a hostile edge to his voice, “Yeah puking your guts out in a random alley is exactly my idea of fun.”

“I don’t-“ Dick groaned, “What do you want, Jason?”

Genuine anger started seeping in to Jason’s posture. “It was to smoke, but shooting you is getting more and more tempting.” There was a warning there that Dick didn’t feel like heeding.

He huffed out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I felt you there.”

“You-“ Jason cut off his alarmed response. “Weren’t you drunk the first time I saw you?”

“The first time?” Dick furrowed his brow, trying to think through the haze of alcohol, “When you were brought to the Manor?”

Jason huffed walking closer. “No idiot. When I broke into your apartment,” Jason kicked against Dick’s outstretched leg. “Just how drunk are you?”

“I-“ Dick cut himself off feeling like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on him. Jason had kicked him. Jason never touched him, he couldn’t. And his apartment? That wasn’t dead Jason that was Red Hood Jason. Real Jason. Which meant, “You— You’re real?!”

He totally wasn’t starting to panic. Okay maybe just a little. Fuck, he couldn’t think straight, he couldn’t gather his thoughts or figure out what he needed to do. For the first time in a while, Dick wished he weren’t quite so drunk.

“The fuck you mean?? Of course I’m real!” Jason looked confused and perhaps a little hurt, but it quickly morphed into a sneer, “Or are you so disappointed in me that you’re trying to pretend I never came back to tarnish your precious little brother’s legacy?”

Dick scrambled to his feet, having to catch himself against the wall. “No! No, it’s not that. Little Wing-“

Jason growled lowly, “Thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Right, yes, Jason.” Dick rushed to correct, “I just, I’m so glad you’re not a hallucination this time.”

Jason stared dumbly at him.

And Dick just stared back.

Finally Jason spoke, “A fucking— You thought I was a hallucination?!”

Dick blinked silently back at him, “…yes?”

Jason huffed and muttered under his breath. “So fucking pathetic, can’t even hold a proper grudge..”

Maybe it was just because his head was still spinning from the alcohol, but Dick had completely lost track of this conversation.

“I-“ Dick had to hold back the sudden urge to cry, “Fuck. Fuck this. You don’t-” He was so so tired. Of trying, of failing; of everything. The world spun around him and he grabbed at his head, stumbling forward.

Jason cursed and managed to catch Dick on his careening path towards concrete, lifting Dick back to his feet as Dick sagged against him.

He choked back a sob, but part of it managed to break through. Tears burned in his eyes as the shame welled up. He felt so lost. He felt so alone.  “What’s going on? Jason?”

Jason cursed again, “Fuck, Dick. What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t feel good Jason.” Dick clung to Jason like he was his final lifeline and Jason started lowering them to the ground. “I don’t feel good.”

“Shh I know. It’s okay.”

Chapter Text

Jason’s POV

The pit’s relentless screaming and furious haze had faded a lot the last few months. It was easier now to force it down and his priorities were shifting as he grew further from its influence.

He’s not here for revenge anymore.

He’s not here for family either. His fami— The Bats. Had made it clear where he stood. And it wasn’t amongst their ranks.

He still seethed at the thought of their betrayal, but it couldn’t be about him anymore. His only job was to protect Gotham and her people. His people. If Batman wouldn’t protect them, then Jason would.

After establishing his territory and his rules, he’d made it a habit to randomly swing by all the clubs and bars on his turf while in plain clothes to make sure everything was as he liked it and that people were abiding by his rules even when they thought he wasn’t there to enforce them.

He’d hit the ones on the northern outskirts of his territory tonight and last on the docket was the Echo Lounge. It was a rowdy club known for testing his rules, so he liked to spend extra time lingering around to check up on everything.

He’d made his rounds inside and headed out back to the alley.

People got up to weird shit in alleys and interrupting said weird shit was something Jason thoroughly enjoyed.

Tonight however, he was the only one out there. Deciding he may as well take a break and hangout for just a little longer, Jason pulled out his lighter and cigarettes leaning back against the wall and lighting up.

He took a long drag and watched as the smoke curled towards the sky. Gotham at night was peaceful in a way that only those who grew up in its thrumming underbelly could see. Jason languished in it. He knew this city just as it knew him. Their hearts beat together and their lives would be forever intertwined.

He was just reaching the end of his cigarette when the alley door slammed open and a dark haired man stumbled out and almost into the opposite wall. He tripped though and only just managed to get his hands out to stop the impromptu make out session he was about to have with the grimy concrete.

Jason stubbed out his cigarette on the wall behind him and dropped the butt back into the pack, keeping his eyes on the man all along.

He was shaking and sweating and hadn’t made any attempt to get up from the ground. Then he started throwing up.

“Oh shit man! You good?” Jason called out. The man heaved one more time before lurching to a sitting position, clumsily scooting himself back until he could lean against the wall. He closed his eyes, still shaking as he sat slumped there looking miserable.

Hopefully he’d just had too much to drink and hadn’t mixed in any other drugs. Still, throwing up was never a good sign.

Jason started walking over, careful to stay far enough back that he wouldn’t be perceived as a threat. “Hey. You okay?” The man just hummed absently.

Fuck he was really out of it. “Gonna need a better response than that,” he tried, “Did’ja take anything other than alcohol?”

For a moment, Jason thought he wasn’t going to get a response, but then he spoke up with a slurred, “No. Just drinks. No drugs.” The man hesitated for just a second. “Never drugs.” That last sentence was heavier. There was something, or someone, behind his adamant refusal of drugs despite him being okay with getting so drunk he couldn’t stand properly.

Jason could relate.

Relieved with the lack of drugs involved, he huffed and stepped just a little closer.

“Okay. That’s good. Can I get you anything? Water, some pret—“ He cut himself off suddenly and his blood ran cold. This wasn’t just some wasted stranger. This was someone he knew. Someone he had once called a brother.

“Dick?! What the fuck??”

What the fuck? What the fuck?? Why was Dick, the fucking Golden Boy of Wayne Manor, drunk at a club on the outskirts of Crime Alley. It wasn’t even close to Bristol, let alone Blüdhaven. What was he doing here?

Dick stirred in confusion as he registered his name. He squinted at Jason clearly trying to focus before his expression shifted from confused to exasperated and exhausted. He thunked his head on the wall behind him as he spoke tiredly to the sky. “I can’t do this right now, Jason.”

Jason started a little at the blunt dismissal. “I was here first, Dickhead.” He shot back. “You don’t even live in Gotham. What’re you doing here?”

Dick hummed tiredly only vaguely looking at him as he responded, an edge to his voice. “Drinking, obviously. Relaxing.”

Jason managed to not glare too much, but he did quirk an eyebrow at the hostile tone and matched it, “Yeah, puking your guts out in a random alley is exactly my idea of fun.”

“I don’t-“ Dick went to defend himself before he cut himself off with groan and tiredly asked, “What do you want, Jason?”

Anger and hurt built in Jason’s chest. Now he remembered. Dick knew who he was, he’d known for a long time considering he wasn’t surprised when Jason had first shown up at Dick’s apartment several months back.

Jason struggled to fight back the green. He wanted do this on his terms but he was getting sick of Dick’s blasse attitude, “It was to smoke, but shooting you is getting more and more tempting,” he practically growled in warning.

Duck didn’t seem to care as he huffed out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I felt you there.”

“You-“ Jason cut off his alarmed response as he remembered another part of that night in Dick’s apartment. Pieces were fitting together and Jason did not like the picture they painted. “Weren’t you drunk the first time I saw you?”

“The first time?” Dick furrowed his brow in confusion as he tried to think through the alcohol, “When you were brought to the Manor?”

Concern was starting to overpower his anger again. This man and his family had abandoned and replaced him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same no matter how much he wanted to turn and walk away.

He huffed and walked closer. “No, idiot. When I broke into your apartment.”

He reached Dick and lightly kicked his outstretched leg. “Just how drunk are you?”He tried for lighthearted, but the clear answer to his question was a concerning one.

“I-“ Dick cut off, suddenly staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. Which, yeah, but why was he only now getting that reaction?

“You— You’re real?!” He suddenly blurted looking panicked and so confused.

For some reason, that stung. But mostly Jason was just really confused. “The fuck you mean?? Of course I’m real!” And then a painful thought popped into his head. He sneered to hide the pain, “Or are you so disappointed in me that you’re trying to pretend I never came back to tarnish your precious little brother’s legacy?”

Please don’t say yes. Lie to me. I don’t care. Just don’t say yes.

Dick scrambled rapidly to his feet, having to catch himself against the wall. “No! No, it’s not that. Little Wing-“

Jason couldn’t help it, he growled lowly, “Thought I told you not to call me that,” and Dick rushed to correct himself.

“Right, yes, Jason.

“I just, I’m so glad you’re not a hallucination this time.”

Jason stared dumbly at him.

And Dick just stared back.

Finally Jason spoke, “A fucking— You thought I was a hallucination?!” He had to have heard that wrong. A hallucination??

Dick blinked silently back at him, “…yes?”

Yes?? What did Jason even do with a response like that? What— he—.

It kinda made sense. In a way that only made sense in Gotham. But, thinking back to their previous interactions, as clouded with green as they were, it maybe made a little too much sense.

Jason couldn’t deal with this. This was so above his pay grade. He was maybe panicking a little, but Dick was maybe panicking a lot and clearly he needed help.

Why did his big brother—the Stable One no less—need help? And why was it falling to Jason?

Oh gods. He needed to calm down. He needed to be in control here. Jason huffed and muttered under his breath. “So fucking pathetic, can’t even hold a proper grudge..” Trying desperately to feel the nonchalance he was projecting.

“I-“ Dick started. “Fuck. Fuck this. You don’t-“ Dick suddenly stumbled forward, grabbing at his head.

Jason cursed and only just managed to catch him, adjusting them so that Dick was standing again. Jason had expected him to pull away as soon as possible, but Dick just sagged into him instead.

This was not the hotheaded, boisterous man from Jason’s childhood. He didn’t know what happened after he died, but it made his heart ache regardless. He’d wanted an older brother so badly, and Dick hadn’t been the greatest, but, at least towards the end, he had been trying.

Dick choked back a sob, clinging tightly to the back of Jason’s shirt. “What’s going on? Jason?”

And oh. Jason could feel how lost and alone Dick felt. And considering Jason was the one comforting a drunk Dick in a dirty alley, Dick probably had good reason to be feeling that way.

Jason held him tighter. “Fuck, Dick. What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Dick had started crying, each breath coming too soon after the last. “I don’t feel good, Jason.” Dick was clinging to Jason like he’d drown if he let go. Like Jason was his last tie to reality. He started lowering them to the ground as Dick slurred, “I don’t feel good.”

“Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

Dick sobbed as Jason held him. He’d tried pulling away at one point to reposition them to be more comfortable, but Dick started panicking and apologizing. Promising that he’d do better if only Jason wouldn’t leave him. Jason had tried to reassure him that he wasn’t leaving, but only pulling Dick in close again had calmed the man down.

He’d tried to soothe him, to reassure him, but Dick seemed entirely out of it, his eyes unfocused in a way that spoke of something more than intoxication.

So Jason knelt on increasingly numb legs, just holding his pseudo brother as he shook apart in his arms.

Eventually the tears slowed and the breathing evened out, growing heavy and slow, but Dick still didn’t pull away, so neither did Jason.

After what felt like hours of them just sitting there, Dick whispered a rough, “I missed you.” And Jason suddenly felt on the verge of tears himself.

He didn’t think he’d ever hear those words again and the pit whispered that they were lies, but here, holding Dick, he knew they were true.

“I missed you too,” he mumbled back, and Dick squeezed him harder for a second before finally shifting and pulling back.

They stayed kneeling facing each other as Dick wiped his eyes and tried to compose himself. “Sorry you had to see me like that,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

“Dick,” Jason said softly, trying to get Dick to look at him.

Dick continued shifting around, patting his pockets to check their contents. “Guess I got a little carried away.”

“Dick,” Jason said still soft, but a bit more insistent.

Dick stood up and Jason grabbed his wrist. Finally Dick looked at him. If Jason hadn’t seen him breakdown, he probably wouldn’t have been able to see past the mask Dick now had on. But he had, and he could see the cracks. It made him wonder how long they’d be there. Were they there when Jason was just a child? How had no one noticed? Or had they and they just didn’t care?

“Dick,” Jason said again. And saw a few more cracks form in the mask. “I don’t think you’re okay.”

Dick blew out a shuddering breath and pasted on his signature smile. Had it always looked so fake?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He gently pulled his hand away, closing himself off a bit more, “You just caught me on an off night is all.”

Jason stared up at him, before moving to stand himself. Dick wasn’t ready. Jason knew from experience that you can’t help people when they don’t want to be helped.

“Okay.” He said simply.

Dick look startled. “Okay? Just like that?”

Jason shrugged. “Just like that. But, Dick, if you’re ever not okay, reach out, okay?”

Dick still looked at little stunned as he said, “Yeah. Yeah okay.” And Jason didn’t know if he would, but at least he’d tried.

“This doesn’t fix us, you know.” Jason said, even though he so badly wished that it had.

He got a sad smile in return. “Yeah, I know,” Dick hesitated for a moment, “Could we try though? To fix things I mean?”

Jason wanted that so so badly. “I’m not giving up my guns. Bruce isn’t infallible and I think we’re always gonna disagree on a lot of things.”

There was something dark and mournful behind Dick’s laugh, “I don’t follow Bruce blindly, Jason. I just want you back. And if that means with guns, then I’ll take you with guns.”

They stared at each other for a while longer. “Okay.” Jason said finally (without a smile because he had a reputation to uphold).

Dick smiled back anyway. “Okay.”

It felt so nice to finally have some understanding with someone. To finally start improving things. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever get, but everything unsaid and unresolved started to press in on Jason and he couldn’t help but break the moment. “Now hand over your phone. I’m calling you a ride.”

Dick looked suddenly off kilter, confused by the vibe change, but handed his phone over anyway.

Jason tapped away for a few moments before handing it back. “Guess I’ll be seeing you around Dickwing. Stay outta trouble.” He grinned and gave a two finger salute before turning and walking away.

Dick just called back a confused, “Uhh yeah. See ya, Jason!”

Jason casually strode around the corner before hurrying down the next alley and climbing to the roof. He watched as Dick just stood there staring at his phone screen. Jason had indeed called Dick a ride, and paid for it himself thank you very much, but he’d also added his contact to Dick’s phone. Maybe Dick wasn’t ready. Maybe Jason wasn’t either. But maybe they’d be able to figure it out together.

Chapter Text

When Dick got back to his apartment, he collapsed onto his bed. His thoughts were spinning like a washing machine on the tumble cycle and it was starting to make him nauseous so he reluctantly dragged himself to sitting.

What had even happened tonight? 

It had started off pretty much as his new normal; he’d patrolled alone, in Gotham for a change, and had been considering checking in on his family, and then… Then he saw Bruce beating up some low levels and quickly decided that he did not feel like being on the other end of Batman’s fury tonight. He’d booked it out of there so quickly that he hadn’t even bothered looking for Robin. 

Then Dick had ended up at the Echo Lounge, confident he would successfully avoid any and all Bats in his chosen hideout. Turns out he was wrong (what’s new) and he ran into Jason. Jason who reminded him so much of the young boy that Dick was just getting to actually know before he lost the chance to ever be brothers. Because, even the little hope Dick had felt spark when he’d learned that Jason was miraculously alive and back in Gotham, was snuffed out when the boy, now a brutal man, yelled at him and threatened to shoot him if they ever crossed paths again. And Dick had taken it to heart. The past few months had made it abundantly clear to him how detrimental his presence was for his family, so he’d decided to stay away no matter how much the absence tore at his soul.

But then, Jason had been there in the alley. He’d checked on Dick and stuck around even after he’d realized who it was. He’d comforted Dick as he broke down and Dick just didn’t know how to reconcile Pre-Death Jason, Red Hood Jason, and Alley Jason with each other. Jason being different after he came back made sense. It hurt that Jason was so filled with hatred and anger, but it made sense. But then, Jason from the alley last night was a completely different person all over again. Dick almost wanted to pass it off as another hallucination just to make it make sense, but Jason had without a doubt been there.

And maybe most confusing of all, he’d given Dick his phone number which was a complete 180 from the last time they’d seen each other. Maybe he’d just been that pathetic of a sight he mused as he pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it to stare at the contact info. He knew what it said, had memorized the number on the ride home by virtue of having stared at it for the entire ride.

Todd Peterson

Dick snorted again at the name. Of course Jason would choose some contrived rendition of his name.

Dick’s eyes drifted up to the clock at the top of the phone screen and groaned as he realized he’d only be able to sleep for an hour or two before his 6am shift at the station. 

He crawled up to the top of his bed and plugged his phone in before letting himself fall fully into the padding. No need to bother with changing clothes when he would sleep just fine in these. He suddenly jolted more awake, remembering that he hadn’t picked up his suit from where he’d stashed it. Ehhh, that could be a problem for future Dick, one who didn’t have a 12 hour shift in a few hours, to deal with. 

——

Dick woke up hungover, which was neither a surprise nor an uncommon occurrence these days. But it was nothing some painkillers and copious amounts of coffee wouldn’t fix, so though mildly annoying, it wasn’t anything more than a minor inconvenience.

After quickly showering and getting dressed, he headed into work, but Dick found himself struggling to stay on task since his mind was so preoccupied with everything that happened the night before. And, before he knew it, the time to clock out had come and he was gathering his things and heading back home no closer to an answer as to what he should do than he was 12 hours ago.

——

Back in his apartment, Dick absently microwaved some random noodle dish before sitting down in front of his couch. No one could convince him he didn’t think better when sitting or lying on the floor—though many had tried.

As he mindlessly ate his dinner, he continued to think about what he could do. His body was aching for a drink, but it would only cloud his thoughts, and while that was usually his goal, he might just go crazy if he didn’t figure this out.

He wanted his family back and he wanted them to want him back too. But there were countless issues that needed to be fixed before that was even a remote possibility.

So time to break it down.

Tim hated Dick and currently felt entirely betrayed by him. Dick had wanted to give him time to cool off, to hopefully come to Dick himself or to at least be willing to listen when Dick reached out, but he needed to get things right with Tim and Dick wasn’t the only the problem going on there. Jason had a vendetta against Tim and Dick didn’t entirely know why, but he didn’t think Jason would be open to discussing such matters quite yet. And Dick was hesitant to reach out to him at all so soon after their hesitant potential truce.

So no talking to Jason about things yet, which meant he couldn’t start fixing things by starting with Tim or Jason.

That left Bruce. Of course it fucking left Bruce.

Dick felt anger and resentment start boiling up in him as he aggressively stabbed at the last of his noodles. He pushed himself off the floor and threw away the noodle container before quickly handwashing his fork and tossing it back in his utensil drawer. The cool counter was inviting as Dick placed his hands on its surface and sagged forward against it.

Dick loved Bruce so much that he hated him. Bruce was the man that took him in when his world had crumbled around him. He was the man that gave Dick a purpose and a direction. He was the man that shut Dick out. The man that wouldn’t acknowledge that Dick was growing up. The man that gave Dick’s mantle to someone else. The man so stubborn that he hadn’t even told Dick about Jason’s death until he was already gone and buried.

Bruce was the man who loved so fiercely. The one who tried to protect them despite any protests for greater freedom.

He’d fallen apart when Jason died, and Dick knew, despite his guilt, that Bruce was only still here because Tim, an awestruck and determined child, had taken it upon himself to save the Batman. But Jason was back now, and had shown Dick that he was still human that he was still Jason . Jason was Dick’s brother. He was in the past and he could be again in the future.

Dick couldn’t let Bruce continue to refuse to acknowledge that his son had returned. Red Hood and Jason were not two different people. Jason may not live by their morals anymore, but he was still family and he needed to be treated as such. That meant confronting Bruce about his faulty logic.

The main problem was that probably the only thing stronger than Bruce’s love was his stubbornness. He was far from perfect, but, despite all their issues and all the hurt, Dick wanted so badly to be accepted as Bruce’s family again. He couldn’t stand to watch his fractured family fall further and further apart. If he had any hope of getting the man he considered a father, and the boys he considered brothers to heal, then he needed to act.

Dick stood up straighter, determination holding him up as it settled in what he needed to do.

Only someone as stubborn as Bruce had any chance of getting him to come around. And that meant Dick would have to talk to Bruce.

Fuck! That meant Dick would have to talk to Bruce!

——

Dick pulled harshly to a stop in the driveway of Wayne Manor, the setting sun bright in his vision as he parked.  He strode quickly to the door, not willing to give himself even a second to chicken out. He needed to do this. For Jason, for himself, for Tim, hell, for Bruce even.

Dick yanked open the door and faltered as he immediately came face to face with Alfred, calming standing there, prim as ever.

“Ah Master Dick, it is good to see you after so long,” he raised a pointed eyebrow at Dick who just dumbly stood there, “Would you care for something to eat?”

There was Alfred, steady as ever, and it suddenly occurred to Dick that he wasn’t sure Alfred knew about everything going on. Surely he must, right? He always seemed to know everything, but was that still true now? Would Alfred still be so wordlessly accepting of Dick no matter how long he stayed away and no matter what happened between everyone else? Suddenly, Dick wanted nothing more than to sit down with Alfred like he had in the past and just be at peace for a little while. But, no, that was selfish. He could do that in the future if things worked out okay.

So Dick gave him his best smile, apologetic and grateful as he anxiously glanced past the old man terrified of Bruce appearing. “Thanks Alfred, but I can’t right now.” He took a shuddering breath, “Is Bruce around? I need to talk to him.”

If Alfred was surprised by the request, he gave no indication of it. “I believe he is working downstairs currently. I shall prepare some refreshments, if you’ll be staying long enough?”

Dick entirely missed the pointed unsaid rebuke as he distractedly responded, “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Alfred. Umm, I’m gonna— I’ll go talk to him then.”

“Very well young sir.”

With a curt nod and a warm smile, Alfred turned towards the kitchen and Dick bounced nervously on his feet for a second before shaking out his hands and heading towards the study and the Batcave below.

——

Dick made his way quietly down the stairs, though he held no illusion that Bruce wasn’t aware of his presence. When he reached the base of the stairs, he took a grounding breath before looking around for Bruce.

He found the man sitting at the Bat Computer and not acknowledging Dick in the slightest. It irked Dick, but he tried to shove the feeling down. This couldn’t just be about his beef with Bruce, not if he wanted any chance at getting his family back.

Dick steeled himself against his nerves and walked forward, calling out, “Hey B?” As he approached the raised platform where Bruce sat. Bruce still didn’t acknowledge him and Dick tried to convince himself that Bruce was just drawn into his work and not purposely ignoring him. He stopped a few feet away from Bruce, behind and to the right of him like he’d always done as a child, so that Bruce would have to turn away from the screen to look at Dick. He’d learned long ago that that was the only chance you had to keep Bruce’s attention if it wasn’t something he was interested in.

And it kept him out of hitting distance.

Dick tried again, “Could we talk?”

If it weren’t for his Bat training, he wouldn’t have noticed the tiny hesitation in Bruce’s typing, but he had and he did. And, it could only mean that Bruce was in fact ignoring Dick on purpose. Dick’s anger was threatening to boil over.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to feel like Robin again, like a child begging for his father’s attention. He wanted to go home, to drink, and to forget any of this ever happened. But Jason’s hug had felt so nice, and he’d given Dick his phone number, and he missed Tim’s excited rambling so much. Dick was doing this for them. He’d hurt them too many times because of his problems with Bruce, he wouldn’t let that happen again. Not when this might be his last chance.

“We need to talk, Bruce.” Gone was the hesitance and deference he had used as a child. Dick wasn’t Robin anymore. He wasn’t subservient to the whims of Batman. He was Nightwing. He was Dick Grayson. And he wasn’t going to be ignored anymore.

“Bruce,” his tone was firm but not yet aggressive, “We need to talk about Jason.”

That finally got a response out of Bruce. “Red Hood,” he growled softly, before going back to his typing.

Dick took a deep breath. “Not Red Hood, Jason.”

Bruce finally stopped typing and turned to face Dick. His face was set in a scowl and Dick met it with a glare.

“Jason is dead,” Bruce declared, “He died years ago and Red Hood is nothing more than another hot shot criminal.” He said it with a sense of finality and went to turn back to the computer, but Dick stalked forward and grabbed the back of the chair, spinning it back to face him and leaving him looming slightly over Bruce. Bruce quirked a judgmental eyebrow at him and it made Dick feel like a stupid child in a way no other person could.

Why did he think this would’ve gone any differently? Dick was fuming and Bruce couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to care about anyone’s opinion other than his own or let alone any of his kids.

“Oh get over yourself, Bruce!” Dick hissed while Batman simply glared. “Jason is your son. Jason is Red Hood. Red Hood is your son! They’re all the same goddamn person and whatever the fuck crazy logic you have going is driving your son away!”

Dick let go of the chair and threw his arms in the air, “Are you capable of getting your head out of your ass for even one second?? It is so hard to listen to me?

“I know you think I’m a fuck up disappointment, but I was right about Red Hood being Jason and that’ll be true no matter how much you pretend otherwise. You can’t just shove us all away and expect it to work out in your favor! After everything, do you seriously want to die alone??”

Bruce simply glowered at him, not deigning Dick’s anger worthy of a response. Of course not, Dick thought bitterly, no one was as genius as the great Bruce Wayne.

Playboy. Philanthropist. Vigilante. Asshole.

Maybe this really was a waste of Dick’s time. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten through to Bruce before, why had he thought anything would be different this time around. Dick silently seethed, but forced his volume lower despite the intensity it still held.

“You give up on him, you lose him? Then you lose me too. And at this point that might even be a perk to you, but I swear to god Bruce! He is your son ! He is alive and in Gotham and yet all you want to see is a mistake!!” Yeah no, quiet wasn’t going to cut it here.

“You fucking raised us, Bruce! Whose fault do you think it is if we all turned out as failures, huh?? You failed us first you self-centered bastard!” Dick was panting as he yelled now, and it felt so good in ways that felt so wrong. “You don’t fucking deserve—“

“Master Dick! That is quite enough,” A firm voice came and Dick whirled around making eye contact with Alfred and forcing himself to hold back the rest of his caustic accusations.

Alfred raised a judgmental eyebrow at the both of them but walked forward without another word and set down a tray of tea and small sandwiches. Dick silently trace Alfred’s path and stood staring at the sandwiches once they were set down. Shame and anger were warring inside him and left him refusing to make eye contact with anyone and with so many words in his head that he was left with nothing to say.

Surprisingly, it was Bruce who finally broke the tense silence.

“I can’t, Dick,” his voice broke and Dick jerked to look at the man. And there it was: the man that got Dick to come crawling back every time, the little pieces of humanity that Dick so desperately clung to, the part that Dick was begging to listen. Bruce was hunched in on himself, grief physically weighing him down as he stared at the ground, “If I think about him as Jason, then I won’t be able to keep going. All I’ll be able to focus on is how badly I failed him. Or how badly I’ve failed all of you.” Bruce finally looked up at Dick, his eyes glossy, and Dick almost took a step back in shock. Dick wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Bruce get even remotely close to crying, but as he watched, a tear slipped down Bruce’s face before he bowed his head again and placed it in his hands.

Dick didn’t know what to say. Bruce’s logic seemed to go exactly against his actions. Then again, Bruce frequently did push away that which he loved most. He was still human and he was a man made from contradiction.

Dick let out a slow, careful breath. He had one chance here and he couldn’t afford to fuck things up. This would be the end of any efforts if he couldn’t get through to Bruce right now.

Finally, he settled on the only words he could think of even though he worried it would restart the fight. “This is Jason,” he said slowly, hoping that Bruce would for once hear what Dick was trying to say instead of getting defensive. Bruce didn’t acknowledge him so he continued softly. “It doesn’t matter how guilty you feel, or what happened in the past. Jason died. You can’t change that.” Bruce choked on a shuddering breath, “But Jason is back, and if you really love him, if you ever loved him, stop treating him like a criminal and start treating him like your son.” Bruce dropped his hands to his lap but stayed hunched towards the ground.

Dick continued, “Denying who Jason is doesn’t change anything. We all failed him before, but don’t-“ He took a shuddering breath, “-don’t let that fear make you fail him again. The Bruce I thought I knew would’ve done anything to have Jason back. But you’re gonna lose him again, Bruce, and I think that that fear is exactly what’s keeping you from reaching out, but I don’t think losing Jason again is really what you want no matter how much you pretend otherwise.

“Don’t put your morals above your son, Bruce.”

Bruce didn’t acknowledge Dick one way or the other, so, after a moment, Dick walked over and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder and briefly squeezed it—reassuring in all the ways the Bruce’s own had been back when Dick was Robin.

He held back tears as he said the last thing he came here to say, “Call me if you ever decide you actually want to be a father; I’ll respect it either way,”  He hestitated for a second, waiting for a response that didn’t come, “Bye Bruce.”

He nodded to Alfred then turned and walked silently up the stairs.

——

Dick made it all the way to the sitting room a few doors down from Bruce’s study before he collapsed on the couch in a fit of gasping tears.

He sat there for a long time, sobbing and clutching at his chest trying to stop the pain from where his heart was aching at the thought of truly losing his dad once and for all. He loved Bruce and he didn’t think he could ever not, but it would be better to know if Bruce really had given up on Dick. It would be better, he told himself.

He wanted his dad so badly.

His sobs had slowly to quietly trickling tears when he heard some quiet footsteps and looked up to find Alfred coming in with a glass of water. He passed it wordlessly to Dick and Dick took it, whispering a hoarse thank you before taking a hesitant sip.

The cool water soothed his throat, sore from the sharp edge of his grief and guilt.

Finally, he looked up to where Alfred was standing patiently. There was hidden worry in his eyes and Dick hated that he had part in putting it there. More tears slipped down his face. “I’m sorry, Alfred. I’m so sorry.”

Alfred tutted gently before sitting down next to Dick and pulling his hand into a careful embrace. “Whatever for, my dear boy?”

Dick let out a bitter laugh. “What aren’t I sorry for, Alf? All I seem able to do is push people away. Everyone would be better off if I just left them alone. I’ve tried to apologize to Tim, but he won’t respond to my calls or texts. And you saw me and Bruce downstairs. And Jason, he—“ Dick dropped his head in despair, his voice growing quieter with shame, “And Jason is back and he’s Red Hood and I figured that out and didn’t tell you.”

Alfred was quiet for a long moment and Dick was terrified that he’d be shunned and kicked out, that this was the final straw.

When Alfred finally spoke, it was soft and careful, “Will you please look at me?” He asked, and Dick shook his head, still staring at the ground. He couldn’t look at Alfred when he told him that Dick had to leave. Alfred sighed but didn’t force Dick to look.

“I may not agree with some of what you said downstairs, perhaps especially not the way it was conveyed, but I know quite well how, difficult, your father can be.” Dick looked up suddenly, this was not where he was expecting this to go. Alfred gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hand as he continued, “And it is bold of you to assume I did not know about Jason. None of you have ever been able to keep anything from me, Master Dick—including the package of Oreos you kept in the back of your closet—” Dick smiled, small and guilty, “And especially not the identity of a man whom my charges obsess over whose information is stored on a computer I have access to.” And that, was something extremely obvious in hindsight and absolutely not something his guilt complex had even let himself consider.

“I cannot condone yelling and ranting at your father, though there have been many times when I wished to do the same, but I do agree that we must bring Jason home if he will have us.
“I will ensure Master Bruce comes around to the idea and we can figure out what to do about young Master Tim as well. Though perhaps I could suggest starting with his doorstep and ringing the doorbell? I do believe it’s been long enough for him to cool down.”

Dick stared blankly at Alfred, he made it all sound so simple when Dick had been struggling so much on his own. Why had he been doing this alone?

Dick collapsed against the man and received a rare embrace in return. “Thank you, Alfred, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” They pulled away from each other and Alfred gave him another pat on his hand.

“You’re so smart my dear boy, you would have figured it out given time.” Dick nodded and they stood up. An awkward silence briefly enveloping them.

“Well I, uhh, I have work tomorrow, so I guess I’ll see you around?”

Alfred nodded as they started walking to the front door, “With a shorter interval between visits this time I would hope.”

Dick stepped out onto the porch and laughed guiltily, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’ll come back soon, I promise.”

“Very well. Be safe, Master Dick.”

“G’night, Alf. Thank you.”

“Always, Master Dick. Always.”

Chapter Text

It took Dick almost another week until he built up the courage to go back to Gotham. A week with no contact from Bruce, a few text exchanges with Alfred, and nothing with Jason or Tim. 

Dick had gone out drinking last night with his coworkers to celebrate some rookie’s birthday. He wasn’t really friends with any of them or anything but it was a great excuse to get out and relax. He’d only had a handful of beers and a few celebratory shots, hadn’t originally been planning on taking any shots at all, but it would’ve been rude to say no to the first one, and saying yes was easy after that. The break had been so nice. Chatting with coworkers and not worrying about all the drama in his family. He even slept in the next day as an added little treat. 

But it was 11am on a Sunday now, the start of his four days off from work, and Dick had promised Alfred that he would talk to Tim this weekend. Counterpoint to his promise though: his bed felt so nice and he really didn’t want to talk to Tim.

Buttttt he also didn’t want to face Alfred’s wrath.

And he really did want to fix things with his little brother.

Well, he couldn’t argue with that logic, so he dragged himself out of bed, promptly got his foot tangled in his sheet, and practically face-planted on the ground. Dick rolled over and stared at the ceiling questioning all his life choices. “Fuck my life,” he muttered before calling out, “Is this a sign I should’ve just stayed in bed?? Or am I being punished for sleeping in?”

Shockingly, he didn’t get a response, so he grumpily stood up and tossed the offending sheets back on the bed. He thought about making his bed but ultimately decided it could be a problem for future Dick. 

He then took his time getting ready. Showering and shampooing his hair twice, brushing his teeth, and flossing every single tooth. He made instant oatmeal and added some peanut butter instead of eating cold cereal. He even spent enough time on his outfit that he managed to find a pair of matching socks, and eventually got desperate enough that he ended up making his bed after all. The whole while, he was trying and failing to figure out what to say to Tim. He was even considering doing laundry to procrastinate longer, but that was just getting ridiculous.

Eventually, he couldn’t put it off any longer. He needed to go talk to Tim. But he still didn’t know what to say. “Hey sorry that I used you as a pawn in my argument with my dad by saying that he only thought of you as a pawn.” Dick scoffed scornfully at himself as he hunted for a pair of shoes. Yeah right, like that would go over well. Dick soon found some shoes and plopped down on his couch to tie them. Maybe he could try, “You’re my little brother and that isn’t changing just because my other little brother is back.” “...Oh and ignore the fact that he has beaten you up multiple times, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, just like this has all been a misunderstanding between us, so let’s all just be a happy family again.” Yeahhhh, Dick wouldn’t forgive himself either. 

Dick groaned in frustration, getting up to grab his keys. Whatever, he’d figure it out on the way there. 

----

Dick drove the speed limit and even took the longer route, but he still hadn’t figured out anything to say by the time he’d pulled up in front of Drake Manor. Despite the way he was itching for a drink though, he wasn’t going to let himself chicken out. If he didn’t do this now, then he’d never do it and Tim deserved an apology. He walked up to the front door feeling like he was being watched the whole time (which knowing Tim he probably was) and tried to calm his nerves.

Oh shit! What if Tim’s parents were home?! Maybe this really wasn’t a good idea. Maybe he should just come back another time. Dick felt the sudden urge to slap himself. No. Tim deserved an apology and Dick had made him wait far too long already. He was doing this.

Dick knocked on the door and stood back to wait. 

Holy shit, what was he doing. He did not think this through. 

A small eternity passed before Dick heard the locks disengage and the door opened slightly. Any hope that Dick had held that Tim had been using this time to catch up on sleep vanished at the sight of Tim’s darkened eyes and dull glare. They stood there in silence, daring the other to break it, to make it all real, and eventually Dick couldn’t take it anymore. “Uhh, hi.” He said, trying for a reassuring grin but afraid it came out as more of a grimace. The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched down slightly, but he gave no other response.

Dick shuffled nervously, not sure what to do. He glanced at Tim, then behind him into the darkened hallway, then back at Tim before directing his gaze to the suddenly very interesting doormat beneath his feet. 

“Did you need something?” Tim eventually asked in a voice far too tired for his years, and Dick jerked his gaze back up to stare at Tim.

“Uhh, yes. No. Fuck.” Dick stuttered and panicked. Tim raised his eyebrow maintaining his dull glare. “What I mean to say,” Dick tried, “Is that I wanted to apologize for the things I said,” He winced, but soldiered on, “and I would’ve apologized sooner but you weren’t answering your texts and I didn’t think you’d want to see me but I was also just being a coward and you deserve an apology because I never meant to hurt you but I did and I don’t think that you’re just a soldier or a pawn or whatever you’re my little brother and I am so so sorry and you don’t have to forgive but you need to know that I’m sorry because I really really am.” Dick took a big breath and stared at Tim expectantly.

Tim blinked back, opened his mouth, and closed it again. Then something shuttered behind his expression, “Apology not accepted.” Tim stepped back and began closing the door. Dick grabbed at it desperately.

“Tim, wait. What can I do? Please, I want to make things better.”

Tim looked up at him with something so sad and broken in his eyes, “Go be with your family, Dick,” Tim said quietly tears starting to pool in his eyes, “I’m not a part of that and that’s okay.” Tim gave a final push and forced the door shut the locks sliding home and Dick stared at the paneled wood in shock. All he did was hurt people. He was the one who tore this kid’s family away from him. That pain and loneliness was there because of Dick and he didn’t think he’d ever be able to fix it.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Fuck!!” Dick turned from the door and headed down the steps grabbing at his hair as he fought back sobs. “Why am I like this?? Why do I hurt everyone I love?!” The pain was overwhelming. Dick felt like he was drowning in the pain pulled into the depths by the weight of his failures. It was so much. It was too much. He couldn’t do this anymore. His whole body ached for relief and he knew exactly where he could find it.

----

Dick ended up back at the Echo Lounge, the perfect place for scum like him. The music was loud enough to drown out his thoughts and the alcohol was strong enough to dull his emotions. The world was loose and flowy around him. He watched with mild interest as Time slipped like sand through his fingers. Cascading to the ground miles beneath his feet in ribbons of moments he observed but didn’t experience. He distantly hoped that Jason wasn’t here this time because then he’d have to think about how much of a fuck up he was and how the best way to solve his family’s problems would be to remove himself from the family. Dread churned distantly in his gut. Or maybe he did want Jason here. He gave really good hugs.

But he didn’t deserve a hug either way so it was probably for the best that Jason wasn’t here. It was better if Dick was alone even though he really didn’t like it. 

He went back to examining his hands, looking at the way Time got caught in his scars and calluses, wondering when It had washed away his hope.

Time blurred further. Dick didn’t know when he got home, but his lumpy couch felt like heaven. Why’d he even have a bed when his couch worked so well? He’d be perfectly happy to sink into the cushions and never get up. It’d certainly solve a lot of issues. 

What even is Time really? 

Does it even matter if we don’t assign it meaning?

Time hurts. That’s what it means. All of it hurts. His past, his present.

His future will hurt too.

----

Dick’s alarm went off Thursday morning telling him he needed to get up and go to work. Dick loathed that alarm, but he smacked around until it turned off, screamed into his pillow, and rolled out of bed. Time waits for no man or whatever.

And so the cycle continued.

----

It was supposed to be a routine patrol. His route tonight wasn’t even in the more dangerous areas of the city. Nothing was supposed to happen. But since when had things ever gone his way?

He and his partner were driving down the street when they heard a scream, so they quickly parked the car and took off running. They reached an alleyway (why was it always in an alley) and yelled for the men to back away from the terrified young woman. Some of them sneered but they all backed off hands in the air. The woman ran past towards the safety of the officers and street lights and Dick went to handcuff the three men while his partner covered him. It was all going smoothly until the last man suddenly drew a gun. But Dick knew what to do so he automatically moved to disarm him.

 He’d done it a thousand times. Drilled the procedures over and over. And sure, there was always a risk, but Dick knew how to safely disarm a gunman. 

He stepped in close and grabbed the gun arm to direct it away. It was textbook. But then the man recoiled, twisting and managing to pull the trigger several times. The world collapsed in pain as Dick stumbled back grabbing at his left shoulder with his other hand. Burning pain exploded as he tried to get his bearings. He needed to neutralize the shooter and make sure the woman and his partner were safe, but all he could hear was ringing and nothing would focus properly. He hit a wall and slid down it, gasping for breath as he tried to stop the bleeding. His vision was closing in with black.

It was supposed to be a routine patrol. 

----

He vaguely remembered yelling, and flashing lights, and grabbing hands. And pain. So much pain.

But Dick didn’t fully wake again until he was in the hospital. And when he woke, he was alone. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different, but he still had to choke down tears at the sight of the empty chair by his bed. He was groggy, and based on the lack of excruciating pain, he could guess it was from pain meds. He closed his eyes again and let himself drift with the soft beeping of machines.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was because he thought he’d heard someone walking. He looked past his feet and to his right where the door was, but there was no one there, so closed his eyes again, eager to avoid the real world for as long as possible. Then he heard the brush of fabric to his left and he groggily turned his head to look. He caught a flicker of movement as yellow swished behind the curtain, but there was nothing else. The yellow was the same color as the Robin cape and it made him want to cry all over again. “I’m sorry Little Wing. I’m sorry Tim,” he croaked out. Dick kept staring at the curtain, but no more movement or sound came.

Dick drifted.

People were screaming. Dick watched as his parents fell unable to save them. He watched as Jason was beaten and blown up unable to stop it. He watched as he viciously tore into Tim with cruel hateful words. Unable to stop himself.

A small boy sat curled up in the chair next to Dick’s bed. He was wrapped in his cape and reading a book. Dick shifted to try to read the title and the boy looked up at him. He wasn’t wearing a domino. His eyes were grey and dead. He gave Dick a small, sad smile.

Dick drifted.

----

Dick woke with a throbbing headache. He was stiff and tired and just wanted to sleep some more, but his body was telling him that it was time for him to leave. He needed to go home not sleep, so he shifted around trying to wake himself up a bit more. He didn’t want to deal with hospitals. He didn’t want to deal with people. 

Despite his wishes, a nurse walked in before Dick was even fully awake and he took a second to glare at the softly beeping vitals display before turning his attention to the actual person.

“Glad to see you’re awake Officer Grayson!” Dick groaned internally, she was way too chipper for this time of morning. Night? Whenever. “I’m Kathy, your nurse for today and you’ve been admitted to Bludhaven Medical Center for a gunshot wound to your left shoulder. Before I check your dressings, how much pain are you in?”

Dick always forgot just how much he hated hospitals until he was back in one, but he was nothing if not a performer, so he put on a warm albeit tired smile before responding, “Hey Kathy, I’m good on pain meds, but do you know how much longer I’ll be here?” 

Kathy chuckled a little as she pulled out supplies to change his bandages. “The doctor will be in shortly and he’ll go over your treatment and recovery. I know how miserable hospitals can be, so we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.” She gave him another sympathetic smile before making sure he was ready for his dressings to be changed and beginning the process.

The doctor walked in as she finished soaking the gauze in saline to make sure it didn’t stick to the wound and Dick gave himself a brief moment to close his eyes and brace for the tedious process that was injury recovery.

“Ah, just in time I see!” the doctor said with a clap of his hands. “Officer Grayson, I’m Dr. Winslow and I’ll be your attending physician for the duration of your stay. Now let's get a look at how you’re healing so far shall we?”

Dick didn’t bother to respond, nor did he bother to pay attention as Kathy and Dr. Winslow talked amongst themselves as they examined and redressed the wound. He was only brought back to the present with another clap of the doctor’s hands. “Well, the good news is that there are no signs of infection. The bad news is that you were shot in the shoulder.” Dick offered him a weak smile silently begging for him to just get this over with.

With yet another clap of his hands, Dr. Winslow jumped into his spiel. And Dick really did try to listen as he droned on about clean trajectories and lack of bullet fragments, sutures for the entry and exit wounds, no bones or major nerves or arteries hit, blah blah blah--but the IV in his right forearm (apparently for saline with occasional doses of antibiotics and morphine) was itching and his head was fuzzy and aching. 

“...We’re going to switch you to oral pain medication now that you’re conscious. We’ll start with Acetaminophen, which is effective for many patients, but we can add in or switch to a stronger medicine like hydrocodone if necessary. Our goal is to effectively manage your pain while avoiding overmedication.” Again, Dick knew the spiel (not that telling the doctor would save him from it, but it was still annoying). He already knew he wasn’t going to take anything stronger than Acetaminophen.

“... And now recovery!” Dr. Winslow declared and Dick immediately perked up a bit, “For the next couple of weeks, your shoulder will need rest. We’ve put it in a sling to keep the area immobilized and help the muscles heal. You’ll notice some swelling and stiffness, and that’s normal. The pain should improve gradually over the next 7 to 10 days.

“I’m going to give you specific instructions for wound care. You’ll need to keep the bandages clean and dry, and we’ll change them for you here or at follow-up appointments. Watch for any signs of infection—redness, increased swelling, warmth, or discharge—and let us know immediately if you develop a fever…”

Nothing about discharge yet, but hopefully it’s coming, Dick thought mournfully. 

“...In about 2 weeks, once the wounds start healing, we’ll have you start physical therapy. The goal is to regain strength and range of motion in your shoulder without overdoing it. If you follow the program, we expect you’ll recover well within 6 to 8 weeks.

“You’re lucky—it looks like there’s no permanent damage. That said, you’ll need to avoid heavy lifting or any strenuous activity with your left arm until we clear you. Returning to duty will depend on how quickly you heal, but we’ll reevaluate at each follow-up.

“I know this has been a traumatic experience, but you’re on the mend. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or have trouble sleeping, it’s important to let us know. We can connect you with someone to talk to, whether it’s a counselor or a support group. For now, focus on resting and healing.

“Do you have any questions or concerns I can address for you?”

Finally!

“No, that all sounds great, but do you know how much longer I’ll be here for?”

Dr. Winslow gave him an apologetic smile, “I know you’re eager to get out of here, but we need to keep you here long enough for you to begin healing. That said, you’ll most likely be cleared in the next 1-3 days. Provided you have adequate support at home of course.”

Dick’s heart was soaring at the thought of potentially going home tomorrow and it just as quickly plummeted at that last sentence. Adequate support at home? Where the hell was he supposed to get that? Dick hardly even noticed as the doctor and nurse made their way out of the room. The pit of loneliness sat heavy in his gut as he tried to think of who he’d be willing to call. Let alone who’d even bother to pick up. 

Bruce was a hard no and so was Tim. He could call Alfred if he got desperate, but he really didn’t want to. But who did that leave him with? Dick groaned and pressed the heel of his right hand into his eye. Dick didn’t want to be thinking about this. It was making his headache worse and he didn’t have any easy answers. 

“Dick, I don’t think you’re okay,” Jason said softly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dick bluffed, pulling his hand away and wrapping his arms around his body. “You just caught me on an off night is all.” (They both knew he was lying and Dick waited silently for Jason to call him on it.)

Jason stared up at him, before moving to stand himself.

“Okay,” was all he said.

Dick startled. “Okay? Just like that?”

Jason shrugged. “Just like that. But, Dick, if you’re ever not okay, reach out, okay?”

Dick was still stunned as he said, “Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Dick blinked at the memory. He had forgotten about that conversation and it was still surrounded by a haze of too much alcohol, but he was pretty sure Jason had actually said that. “If you’re ever not okay, reach out, okay?” And he’d seemed sincere about it too. 

Dick had been too afraid to use the phone number Jason had given him, even though he’d been the one to ask if they could try to fix things, but Jason had said to reach out if Dick needed help. And Dick really needed help right now.

He stewed in it for a while longer before reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing his phone from where it had been so nicely placed for him. He opened his contacts app and Jason’s name was already pulled up. Todd Peterson .

“If you’re ever not okay, reach out.”

Dick took a deep breath and hit dial. With every ring, his heart pounded harder. He wasn’t going to pick up. He gave Dick a fake number to make him go away. He hated Dick. He wasn’t going to pick up.

The phone rang for the fifth time and then clicked as it connected. “What do you want?” a crabby voice asked. Jason’s voice, Dick thought with awe. 

“J- Todd? Todd Peterson?” Dick asked hesitantly.

He thought he heard a sharp intake of breath before the response came, much softer this time. “Dick? Is that you? Are you okay?”

Dick wanted to sob with relief. “Yeah, yeah it’s me. I’m okay,” Dick hesitated, “Well I’m at the hospital because I got shot, but I’m still okay.” This time Dick definitely heard a sharp breath, but he continued, “That’s actually-- I was. I’m gonna be released in the next 1-3 days and I need someone to drive me home and I was wondering if you could maybe do that?” 

The silence stretched so long that Dick pulled his phone away to see if Jason had hung up on him, but Jason cleared his throat and slowly (hesitantly even) confirmed, “You, you want me to pick you up from the hospital?”

“If you would. Please.” Dick knew Jason had questions, but Jason didn’t ask and Dick didn’t offer answers.

“Okay.”

“Okay? Really?”

“Yeah. Um, just let me know when and where and I’ll, I’ll be there.”

Dick was almost dizzy with shock and relief. “Okay,” he nearly whispered. “Thank you.”

“Bye,” Jason said abruptly.

“By-” Jason hung up before Dick could finish. Despite the abrupt end, Dick felt something warm in his chest. Maybe Dick wasn’t quite so alone after all.

Chapter Text

Dick spent the next several days drifting through the hours, pretending to care about the doctor’s questions, and wishing he were anywhere but in that room. After far too long, he was cleared to go as long as someone picked him up and kept an eye on him. His shoulder was immobilized in a sling, and the restricted movement was already making him antsy, but he just had to hold out for a few more hours, and he’d be home free. Play the perfect patient, call Jason to pick him up, pretend that seeing him didn’t tear him up inside with longing and guilt, and then figure out what the hell he was going to do for the next few weeks. And try not to drown in everything. 

Dick had been tapered off the opioids yesterday which was mentally a relief, but the acetaminophen didn’t numb his shoulder the same way leaving it throbbing dully and him excessively irritable. It didn’t help that he was struggling to sleep and had a constant headache. Nothing to be done about that, though; he just needed to get out of here and back to his apartment, and things would be better. At least he’d be alone. For all the good and bad that that meant. With a sigh, Dick pulled out his phone to ask Jason to pick him up. He considered calling him, longed to hear his voice again, but he also wasn’t up to human interaction right now and Jason had been sounded pretty pissed when he picked up the last time Dick called. Then again, texting with one hand (with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking for some reason) was also miserable.

Dick’s shaking hands made the choice for him and a stray finger tapped on the call button. He scrambled to hang up, but the line connected before he could so Dick instead brought the phone up to his ear willing his anxiety to lessen hoping that he sounded more steady than his hands were. He felt mildly nauseous. 

“The fuck you want? It’s too early,” came Jason’s whiney groggy voice. Nostalgia hit Dick like a truck and it took he couldn’t quite find his voice to be able to respond. “Did you seriously butt dial me at,” Jason paused and Dick could imagine him pulling his phone away from his face to squint blearily at the time, “You called me at 08:11? What the fuck Dick??” Dick jolted at the sound of his name. Dick had woken Jason up from what must’ve been only a few hours of sleep and hadn’t said anything yet. But Jason knew it was Dick who’d called him, which had to mean Jason had added Dick’s contact to his phone. The thought made something warm bloom in his chest. 

Then Dick registered that he still hadn’t said anything and shook himself back to attention, “Uhh, y-yeah sorry. Not a butt dial. Sorry.” Less than a handful of conversations into having his maybe brother maybe back, and he was already pushing him away with his stupidity. On the other end of the line, Dick heard Jason let out a heavy sigh and fabric rustling as he supposedly sat up. 

“‘T’s fine. You getting discharged today?” Despite Dick having asked Jason to pick him up a few days ago, he hadn’t really expected Jason to bother remembering.

“Yeah,” he said dumbly before remembering to tack on, “I should be ready around noon if that’s okay?”

Jason sounded like he was moving around, “Yeah, that’s fine. Bludhaven Medical Center, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“Okay, by--” the call clicked off before Dick could finish his sentence. God, what was he doing asking someone for help when they so clearly didn’t want to be doing this? But, Dick thought grimly, it’s not like he had any other viable choices. At least he knew Jason was coming and Dick would only be stuck here for a few more hours.

Unless he’d just imagined that whole thing? 

He quickly pulled up his call log and was relieved to see the Outgoing Call: Todd Peterson [08:11] - 2 minutes staring back at him. Dick spent the next several hours filling out paperwork, obsessively checking his call log for proof that Jason was coming, and watching nature documentaries on the tv mounted in the corner in an angle that made his neck hurt.

----

Jason walked in the door and took in the sight of his brother Dick propped up in the bed staring dully as a too calm British voice narrated some lions chowing down on what probably used to be gazelles. Dick was slumped down against the angled bed tracing shapes on the blanket with his right hand while his left tapped an absent pattern from where it was held against his chest. 

Jason let out a low whistle, “Wow, you look like shit.” Dick startled slightly and jolted to stare at Jason in shock. Jason turned and closed the door behind him then walked over and pulled a chair up next to Dick’s bed before dropping into it as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his red hoodie.

 “He’s really here,” Dick thought, “Holy fuck he’s really here.” Suddenly, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head and all Dick could do was stare wide-eyed at Jason, who put on a face of confidence but shifted self-consciously in his chair. 

“What?” Dick asked finally.

Jason’s expression twitched with what might’ve been concern before smoothing back into cool nonchalance. “I said you looked like shit.”

“Oh,” Dick said. He tore his eyes away from Jason and stared at the blankets on his lap, feeling shame burning and threatening to boil over. Dick tried to summon his old persona—his armor—and let out a laugh that sounded forced even to him, “Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here, that’s for sure.” He looked back up at Jason, trying for a grin that faltered slightly when he made eye contact with Jason, who looked like he was trying to solve one of the Riddler’s puzzles. 

Jason didn’t respond, so after a second, Dick cleared his throat and awkwardly asked, “So you about ready to go?”

Again, it took Jason a second to respond. “Sure,” he finally said in a tone that did not sound very sure.

Dick pretended he didn’t hear the hesitance and pushed on with his fake enthusiasm. “Great!” he grinned lightly at Jason, “Lemme just call the nurse in here, and we can bust outta this place!”

Jason returned his grin with a straight-lipped smile. “Sounds good,” was the simple response as he shifted further into his chair, seemingly content to sit there in silence.

It was—well it wasn’t great, but it was something Dick could work with. He just needed to avoid getting too attached to Jason’s presence and not let Jason get too suspicious of just how poorly Dick was doing and everything would be fine. 

Dick leaned over and pressed the call button, suppressing a wince as his shoulder twinged at the movement, settled back into his bed, and focused back on what was apparently a lion documentary. 

----

Jason was quiet as Dick did his song and dance, smiling and chatting with the hospital staff, ensuring there were no issues in getting discharged instead of trapped for another day. He carried Dick’s things and answered questions when needed, but didn’t get involved further than that. Jason was still quiet as he guided Dick to where he was parked in the parking garage, and Dick, though still acting upbeat, had also fallen quiet. Dick climbed into the passenger seat as Jason tossed Dick’s bag in the trunk then walked around to the driver side and Dick forced himself to perk up from where he’d slumped as Jason glanced at him while he got settled.

“You doing okay?” Jason had gone long enough without talking that Dick had been prepared to sit in silence for the rest of this interaction and hadn’t planned on having to put up a front detailed enough not to sound dead. Though he had just been in the hospital—no one was going to expect him to be doing 100%—which could work in his favor. Didn’t matter if they thought he was exhausted for different reasons.

Dick fixed Jason with a tired but reassuring smile and responded, “Yeah, just ready to be home, you know?”

Jason briefly glanced at Dick again as he turned to look behind him as he backed the car out of the parking stall. “Sure,” came the reply. 

They made it out of the garage and about three blocks away from the hospital before Dick broke the silence. “Thanks,” he said quietly, “I know I’m asking a lot of you to come out here and take me back to my apartment.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jason brushed off.

“I’m serious, Jason,” Dick insisted.

Jason scoffed quietly, “So am I, dickhead.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

They lapsed back into silence. 

Dick focused his gaze at the passing scenery and zoned out. They were nearly back to Dick’s apartment that it occurred to him that he’d never told Jason his address. It wasn’t the same as before Jason had— as before. But Jason didn’t hesitate as he navigated the chaotic city streets.

“You uh—” Dick’s voice was far too loud in the silence and he awkwardly cleared his throat, “You know where you’re going?”

Jason shot Dick a weird look before focusing back on driving, “I’ve been to your apartment before.”

“Oh,” was all Dick said out loud, though his thoughts were racing. 

“Since when? I only moved in like a year ago. The only people that have been in that apartment are me and Tim,” And then Dick realized, “And the hallucinations of Jason that apparently weren’t all hallucinations.” And then Dick remembered those fever dream memories of the first time he saw this older, rougher version of Jason. The anniversary of Jason’s— and Dick had been drunk off his ass. Suddenly burning with shame, Dick slumped further into his seat.

“I forgot about that,” he mumbled earning a short scoff of a laugh from Jason.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You forget about the alley too?” he shot back.

Dick hated that Jason had already seen him falling apart so many times, “No, I remember that just fine. Why else would I have called you.” Dick had just meant it to mean that he wouldn’t have known he had Jason’s number otherwise, but, in his insecurities, the words came out harsher than he meant and the air of the car suddenly went stale.

“Right,” came Jason’s short reply as he pointedly avoided eye contact with Dick while looking past him to check that it was clear enough to turn into Dick’s parking lot. 

Jason pulled into a spot designated for overnight guests and threw the car into park. He quickly climbed out of the car and went to grab Dick’s bag from the trunk. Dick slowly climbed out, grimacing as the twisting pulled at his wound, then wordlessly led the way to his apartment.

He tried to unlock the door himself, but the damn finicky thing had other ideas and Dick eventually had to hand the keys to his two-handed partner who dropped the bag on the floor before unlocking the door with ease. Dick tried very hard not to bitter about that, but he’d been raised by the Bat and loathed needing help or being seen as incompetent.

Jason opened the door and stepped back to let Dick in first as he picked the bag back up. 

“Thanks,” Dick mumbled as he shuffled past Jason and straight to the bathroom. As soon as the door was closed, Dick slumped against it tossing his head back, eyes closed, and taking a second to process everything he was feeling. His shoulder was throbbing, and he could tell his last dose of acetaminophen was starting to wear off. Beyond that, all Dick could register was soul deep exhaustion. It permeated through every cell in his body and left him feeling like he was about to drown even as he took slow, deep breaths. 

Eventually, he dragged himself to actually use the bathroom and struggled through that whole process with the help of plenty of muttered cursing. After washing his hands (yes, one arm is still in the sling, and yes, his shirt is now a little wet), he forced himself out of the relative safety of this tiny room.

Wondering where Jason had gotten off to, Dick wandered first to his room, noting that his bag was on his bed but Jason was no where to be found. Then he checked his spare room that doubled as his office, before heading back to the main living area and adjoining kitchen.

Jason was standing in front of the open fridge and didn’t bother looking at Dick but shot him a question anyways,  “Where the fucks your food, man?” The fridge was empty save for some beer and chinese takeout that may or may not still be safe to eat. 

Dick shrugged and realized how bad an idea that had been halfway through the action. His voice came out a little strained as he answered, “Been busy.” 

Jason looked back at him quizically as Dick walked over to the barstools at the counter. Jason shut the fridge and walked over to lean on the counter across from Dick. “When’s the last time you took meds?” he asked.

Dick almost shrugged again but stopped himself with a small grimace as his shoulder throbbed a reminder. “Don’know. Been a while, I guess.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh and looked down in thought. Finally, he spoke up, “Okay, here’s the plan: You’re gonna make like a good little patient and take some meds, then go lay down for a while. I don’t care if you sleep, but at least try to rest. I’m gonna run out to the store and pick up some groceries so we don’t starve to death. Good?”

Dick looked at him with confused shock. “We? I really appreciate your help, but all I needed was a ride back home. I don’t expect you to stick around.”

Jason let out a scoff. “The state of your fridge has a different opinion on what you need help with. Plus my oven is broken and yours is too nice to not be used. Now no arguing, get your sorry ass in bed and I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“O-okay,” Dick stuttered out in confusion.

“Great.” Jason shoved off the counter and went to gather his things.

“Don’t die while I’m gone!” He called out as he walked out the door, slamming it behind him and making Dick flinch. 

Dick sat in stunned silence for who even knows how long before eventually forcing himself up and back to his bedroom. He decided to forgo anything for the pain—he had to be careful not to build up too much of a tolerance to over-the-counter meds with how often he got injured—but did listen to the second demand and tried his best to sleep. He didn’t normally sleep on his back, but his stomach wasn’t an option with his arm in a sling and shoulder in stitches, so he laid there staring at the ceiling, trying to get comfortable. He really did try to sleep, but the smoldering warmth in his shoulder was slowly building to a raging inferno. It got bad enough that Dick considered taking something for the pain, but eventually decided to instead grab another pillow from the hall closet and position it under his injured side to relieve some of the pain and pressure. It felt about as useful as throwing a bucket of water on a forest fire, but it did something and Dick was eventually able to drop off into a fitful sleep.

----

A door slammed and Dick startled awake, groaning and grasping desperately at his shoulder and at the pain that flared from him jolting it. He was sitting up on his bed now, curled in on himself as much as his shoulder would let him as he worked through some breathing exercises that Bruce had taught him way back when he was Robin. When the pain finally faded enough that Dick didn’t feel like he was going to pass out, he slowly uncurled, keeping his hand pressed to the wound as if that would actually help anything, and forced himself out to where he could get the meds (the ones that he definitely should’ve take a few hours ago he could now admit).

Jason glanced up from where he was putting away groceries when Dick walked in. He scoffed and rolled his eyes before wordlessly turning to fill a glass with water and dump out two tabs of extra strength acetaminophen.

“Thanks,” Dick rasped before downing the meds and the entire cup of water. It was only then that he realized how thirsty he was, and he quickly shambled over to the sink to fill his cup for a second, then third time. He only stopped when his stomach protested that it was full, so he finally set the cup down and turned around to see that Jason was staring at him in concern. “Sorry, I was thirsty,” Dick gave him a chagrined smile and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Clearly,” he said dryly before turning back to his groceries. 

Dick spent his time oscillating between wanting nothing to do with human interaction and feeling like he’d die if Jason left. Jason, for his part, baked three batches of chocolate chip cookies. (“They’re not basic like that, idiot! They’re browned butter with sea salt!” Dick thought butter only came in yellow and he was too afraid to ask what the difference is.) But, even after Jason was done with Dick’s oven, (“It’s seriously criminal that you don’t use this thing more often. Why the hell does it have dual-fan opposing convection??” he’d said and only got more incredulous when Dick said he sometimes dried his suit in it) Jason had stuck around. He didn’t offer up another explanation and Dick didn’t ask for one. 

Dick’s nausea and shakiness only got worse as the day wore into evening. He was sweating and anxious and trying his best not to snap at Jason for every little thing. He did his best to eat the stir fry that Jason made—with aggressive, muttered comments about Dick being too skinny and deficient in every micronutrient or something—and Dick could tell it was objectively delicious, but he couldn’t stomach any more than a few bites before he was bolting the bathroom trying to suppress his rasping sobs as each heave sent a bolt of agony through his shoulder. Jason was kind enough to not follow Dick into the bathroom and had cleaned up dinner in Dick’s absence, but he did cruelly make Dick drink a glass of water. 

“Don’t wanna deal with your body when you die from dehydration,” he’d explained with a shrug. 

Eventually, they settled on the couch—as from from each other as possible of course—and Jason turned on some historical drama that Dick was too exhausted to pay attention to. Dick soon drifted off feeling simultaneously better and worse than he had in a long time. 

----

Dick stared at the clock, begging for the time to move faster. It had been 8 hours since his last dose of meds, and his body was begging him for relief. Even more than that, though, his body craved alcohol so badly that he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think. Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore—Jason was probably asleep even with their nocturnal lifestyles—and Dick snuck out of his room and into the kitchen going for the beer in the fridge before realizing that he probably wouldn’t be able to get it open one-handed. 

Pivoting goals, he rummaged through the cabinet next to the sink. He bumped his shoulder once and had to bite back a shout as pain shot through him, leaving his shoulder throbbing and him even more desperate for some relief, but he eventually emerged victorious with a bottle of vodka that he’d previously opened. After standing up and setting the bottle on the counter, he wrapped most of his fingers around the neck of the bottle to hold it still while he used his thumb and pointer to slowly unscrew the lid. It was frustrating and tedious (and Dick would definitely be leaving it screwed less tightly this time) but he was eventually able to get it open. He grabbed a shot glass and carefully threw a few back, already feeling relief coursing through his veins. He rinsed and dried the glass, returning it to its cupboard before grabbing a mug. He poured more vodka into the mug and returned the bottle to its hiding place before diluting the drink with a little bit of tap water, reasoning that this was Bludhaven, not Gotham, and the alcohol would probably kill anything dangerous. Plus, he was just too tired to care. 

Dick shuffled to the couch and crashed down on it, jostling his shoulder and nearly spilling his drink, but neither seemed very important as the floaty haze of relief fully set in. Dick let his head lull back against the head rest and basked in how quiet his head was, how distant his pain felt now. Some small part of him whispered that this was a problem, he shouldn’t be turning to alcohol instead of proper pain meds, but another part gently shushed that concern before Dick could dwell on it. 

Dick floated.

Then crashed back to earth, waking abruptly as the overhead light clicked on.

Dick jolted and groaned as pain pulsed in his shoulder pain still a little dulled as Dick floated a few feet above his body. “J’son?” he slurred, squinting as the objectively hilarious image of his brother standing in the doorway, hair mussed and rubbing his face to wake up. 

“Dick?” he asked clearly confused, “What’re you doing up? It’s like 8am.”

Dick snorted leaning forward to grab his mug from the coffee table and quickly downing the rest of it. “And I thought I wasn’t a morning person,” Dick stood up, wobbling only the tiniest bit, before finding his footing and heading to the sink to wash his cup. “8am isn’t that early, silly, I usually work at like 6 or something.” He absently thanked his past self for cleaning up after himself last night as that wasn’t something he wanted to explain to Jason. Dick shuffled back to the barstools and laid his cheek on the cool counter, letting his eyes close, and reveling in the feeling of it. 

Jason crossed his arms, looking like a kicked puppy, “Well, excuse me for having things to do at night.” With a huff, Jason made his way into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and various cabinets. “Omelets okay? Think you can stomach it?”

Dick hummed in response not bothering to raise his head or open his eyes. 

They stayed silent while Jason got breakfast ready and Dick let himself enjoy the quiet sounds of another person now that his anxiety was dulled. 

Eventually Jason dropped a plate down in front of Dick with the instruction to, “Eat.”

Dick slowly lifted himself upright and dragged the plate closer. He fumbled for his fork, thanking everything that he was right-handed, and mullishly started to eat. It was only after a few bites that he realized Jason wasn’t eating yet, Dick glanced at him questioningly ready to ask if something was wrong, but just as Dick did so, Jason nodded to himself and got started on his own breakfast. Dick realized absently that Jason was making sure Dick ate his food. Something simultaniously touched and frustrated burned in Dick’s stomach. 

The spice finally hit him in the back of his throat, making him cough a little quickly, dropping the fork to support his shoulder. “What’d you put in these?” he asked.

Jason just looked at him incredulously, “Red pepper flakes, dumbass. They’re from your spice cabinet.”

Dick swallowed hard finally getting his coughing under control and let out a weak, “Oh.” How was he supposed to tell Jason that he only had those because Jason had liked them the few times they had eaten together? He’d added it to everything like the little gremlin Dick had just been getting to learn him to be. His mouth was suddenly dry and his throat aching. “Could I get some water, please?” he rasped.

“Sure, you can get some water,” Jason replied and didn’t get up. Dick glanced questioning over at Jason and only after seeing the shit eating grin did Dick realize the phrasing. He groaned before laughing.

Jason laughed, too. “Learn better English, loser.” He did get up and head to the sink, though.

“It’s like my third language you little shit! You literally haven't changed!” Jason flinched, and they both froze. The grin dropped off Dick’s face and he suddenly wished Jason wasn’t awake yet so Dick didn’t have to be getting progressively more sober. “Uhh, I mean-”

“Drop it,” Jason cut him off. He dropped the cup in front of Dick, water splashing over the side. “M’gonna take a shower,” he mumbled before rushing out of the room.

Shit. Dick dropped his head back to the counter fighting back tears. The bathroom door slammed shut. 

The shower turned on and Dick forced himself to sit up and take a few sips of water. "Jason is right there, he reminded himself. You’ve hurt him enough; don’t do this." Dick got up and topped off his water with something a little stronger then headed back to his room taking the bottle with him. 

----

Dick doesn’t have a problem. He doesn’t.

It’s just his shoulder, just the stress, just the pain. He doesn’t know why Jason is still here, why he’s still hovering and it’s making Dick antsy. 

That’s all.

He doesn’t have a problem.

He’s not sitting on the floor in his room, staring at the half-empty bottle of vodka and debating between alcohol and actual pain meds.

He’s not leaning towards drinking.

Because he doesn’t have a problem.

And just to prove it to himself, he shoved the bottle back under the bed and climbed to his feet, ignoring the way he stumbled before catching his balance, and made his way to the kitchen. Where Jason was cleaning? 

“Uhh, hi.” They’d avoided each other for most of the day Dick staying in his room except when Jason pounded on his door and told him to come eat. Jason always disappeared to go work on something else when Dick sat at the counter only staying long enough to make sure Dick actually started eating. He gave a litany of excuses: exercise, grabbing stuff from his car, unpacking (because apparently he’d brought stuff of his own and he claimed it was just a go bag, but Dick wasn’t so sure about that). 

Jason stopped scrubbing the sink and turned to give Dick a once over. “Hi,” he said before turning back to his work. 

Dick sighed quietly and made his way back to the couch resigned to waiting until Jason was done to get any relief from the throbbing ache in his shoulder. He tried scrolling on his phone, then watching a Disney movie, then scrolling on his phone again.

Eventually, he gave up and just tried to sleep.

Dick didn’t know how long it’d been, but, so far, sleeping hadn’t work either. But maybe it would if he just kept his eyes closed for long enough and ignored the way his shoulder pulsed with every breath. Eventually, Dick was less trying to sleep and more trying to meditate. Hand pressed against his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut, and breathing deep and slow. 

His shoulder spasmed, sending fire down to his fingers, and he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. Standing carefully, he slowly made his way back to the kitchen while cursing his past self for never restocking the meds in the bathroom. 

Dick leaned against the doorway trying to catch his breath. “Jason, can I come in?” he rasped.

“It’s your apartment,” Jason snarked as he turned around. His expression flared with alarm at the sight of Dick. “Jesus, Dick, are you okay?” 

“Fine.” Dick heaved himself away from the doorway, not fully able to suppress his groan, and shuffled further into the kitchen. Jason stepped aside to let Dick grab a cup out of the cupboard, but jolted into action when Dick grimaced and let out a low groan at the stretch. He let Dick fill the cup but grabbed the acetominophen from the counter and poured a couple out. He handed them over and watched with concern as Dick carefully took the meds and drank the water. Dick set the cup down and leaned back against the counter breathing slowly as he returned his hand to its position against his shoulder. Jason was moving around the room but Dick was too focused on not passing out to worry about whatever Jason was doing.

“Dick,” Jason called out from the main room. Dick hummed in response, not bothering to do more than that. “Come sit down.”

“‘Kay.” Dick didn’t move. 

“Dick.” Jason was much closer now making Dick flinch and the pain redouble.

“What,” he snapped, teeth gritted with pain.

“C’mon.” Jason gently places his hand on Dick’s back guiding him away from the counter. Dick didn’t open his eyes or respond, but he also didn’t resist and that was good enough for Jason. 

Jason originally went for the couch, but decided that Dick might do better just laying down at this point and headed for Dick’s room instead. 

“Look at me, Bigbird,” Jason softly prompted, “Step towards your bed. Can you get up there by yourself?”

Dick blinked his eyes open in confusion, “Jason, wha-” Dick cut himself off as Jason’s question processed in his mind. He gave a tight nod, “Yeah, ‘think so.”

Jason studied Dick for a moment. “Okay, c’mon. I’ll make sure you don’t faceplant.”

Dick took a deep breath, “‘Kay.”

“Ready?” Jason steadied his stance and prepared to stop Dick from overbalancing. Dick gave a tight nod and Jason counted them down. Dick hissed in pain when Jason had to grab his waist to stop Dick from falling onto his left side. Once Dick was sitting on the bed, he scooted back towards the middle and slowly laid down on his back taking a few heaving breaths. 

He waited for the pain to start to fade now that he was settled, but it only seemed to get worse. His shoulder spasmed, and his right hand shot out to grab it. “Ngh, Jason,” he gasped out.

“Hey, hey, I’m right here.” Dick pried his eyes back open, Jason hovered over him blurry through his tears. “Wha’do you need?” 

Dick squeezed his eyes back shut as his shoulder spasmed again. Suddenly there were hands on him, shifting carefully shifting him towards his right side even as Dick whined in protest. Then he was being lowered onto his back, this time with a pillow blessfully supporting his left arm, taking the weight off his shoulder and relieving the pull on his stitches. Dick let out a gasping sob.

“You’re okay, Dickie. I gotcha.” Dick thought he heard footsteps walking away, but there was too much noise in his brain to be sure. Then the hands were back, pulling his hand away before something was being laid across his shoulder and Dick tensed in anticipation of more pain, but cool relief started seeping in to the muscles and he let himself relax with a questioning sound.

“Just a cold pack, Dickie. You’re okay.” Dick spent a few minutes slowing his breathing and trying to let the cold steal away some of the pain. Eventually, his grimace softened, and he blinked his eyes back open. 

“J’son?” Jason stared back down at him face pinched with concern.

“Shh, just relax,” he soothed. “Try to sleep.”

Dick let his eyes fall back closed, sighing heavily. Exhaustion weighed heavily now that sleep was mentioned. “‘Mkay, Jay.” He started fading fast, but he couldn’t sleep yet. He had something important to say. “‘Love you, Jay. Ya’good brother.” Dick thought he might’ve heard a wet scoff, but the fog of sleep was too dense to be sure.

Chapter Text

It had been about a month since Jason had seen Dick in that alley, drunk and acting extremely so differently from how Jason remembered him. He’d thought about their interaction a lot at first. Couldn’t stop thinking about it, in fact.

Dick choked back a sob, clinging tightly to the back of Jason’s shirt. “What’s going on? Jason?”

And oh. Jason could feel how lost and alone Dick felt. And considering Jason was the one comforting a drunk Dick in a dirty alley, Dick probably had good reason to be feeling that way.

Jason held him tighter. “Fuck, Dick. What happened to you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Dick had started crying, each breath coming too soon after the last. “I don’t feel good, Jason.” Dick was clinging to Jason like he’d drown if he let go. Like Jason was his last tie to reality. He started lowering them to the ground as Dick slurred, “I don’t feel good.”

“Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

Dick sobbed as Jason held him. He’d tried pulling away at one point to reposition them to be more comfortable, but Dick started panicking and apologizing. Promising that he’d do better if only Jason wouldn’t leave him. Jason had tried to reassure him that he wasn’t leaving, but only pulling Dick in close again had calmed the man down.

He’d tried to soothe him, to reassure him, but Dick seemed entirely out of it, his eyes unfocused in a way that spoke of something more than intoxication.

So Jason knelt on increasingly numb legs, just holding his pseudo brother as he shook apart in his arms.

Eventually the tears slowed and the breathing evened out, growing heavy and slow, but Dick still didn’t pull away, so neither did Jason.

After what felt like hours of them just sitting there, Dick whispered a rough, “I missed you.” And Jason suddenly felt on the verge of tears himself.

He didn’t think he’d ever hear those words again and the pit whispered that they were lies, but here, holding Dick, he knew they were true.

“I missed you too,” he mumbled back, and Dick squeezed him harder for a second before finally shifting and pulling back.

Jason had made a split second decision to give Dick his phone number at the end of that conversation, and whether it was solely because he wanted Dick to have someone to call if he needed, or if Jason hoped that Dick would call just because he actually did miss Jason, he couldn’t say.

Despite his hopes, he hadn’t expected Dick to actually use it--honestly, didn’t really expect Dick to remember the interaction at all. The man had been wasted and speaking nonsense, but it was so far from the image that Jason had of the legendary Golden Boy that he couldn’t help but be concerned. So he’d given Dick his number, under a stupid psuedonym that made him snicker, and tried to put it out of his mind. He had crime lording to do after all. 

Still, he’d been haunted by that conversation in the days since. He’d spent too much time wondering if it was true, if Dick regretting it, if he even remembered it. Dick had said he’d missed Jason, but he was drunk, and Jason knew not to trust a drunk man’s word. No matter how much he wanted to.

And, when several weeks passed without incident or contact, Jason did manage to somewhat forget about the whole situation--even if a little part of him ached at the thought--Dick wasn’t going to call and he was just going to forget about the entire thing.

Then, one random morning several weeks later, a call actually came through.

----

Jason was dragged from his blissful dreams of bashing Black Mask’s knees into the incessant ringing of the retched modern device known as a cell phone . It certainly was a prison of sorts. He almost let it ring out, but eventually decided that it might be important--and the chewing out would be cathartic if it was just some menial call, or god forbid, a telemarketer. Blindly reaching for the phone, he eventually found it and brought it up to his ear without looking at the caller ID. He’d find out who it was soon enough. “What do you want,” he snapped. He’d gotten too few hours of sleep to be nice, and it’s not like he had a reputation as a sweetheart either.

“J- Todd?” Todd Peterson?” came the tired, questioning voice of one Dick Grayson. 

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, “Dick?” he asked, suddenly far more awake, “Is that you? Are you okay?”

Dick’s voice crackled over the line sounding so tired, “Yeah, yeah its me. I’m okay,” Dick hesitated, “Well, I’m at the hospital because I got shot, but I’m still okay.” Jason bolted up in bed, sucking in another quick breath but Dick continued, “That’s actually-- I was. I’m getting out in the next 1-3 days, and I need someone to drive me home, and I was wondering if you could maybe do that?”

Dick sounded like he was preparing to be hung up on and Jason couldn’t help but bluescreen at the request. Dick wanted Jason to pick him up from the hospital?? Where was Daddy Bats? What the everloving fuck was going on? Finally, Jason realized he hadn’t said anything.

He tried to respond, but had to clear a lump from his throat, then hesitantly confirmed, “You, you want me to pick you up from the hospital?”

“If you would. Please.” It was almost like Dick was begging and Jason was suddenly desperate to pull Dick away from the cliff edge.

“Okay,” he found himself breathing even as he wondered what the fuck he was doing.

“Okay? Really?” The relief and anxiety rang so clear in Dick’s voice like he’d been thrown a life presever, but was waiting to be shoved back under water.

Jason may be on bad terms with the Bats, may not know where he stood with Dick, but he did know that he never wanted to hear his brother sound like that ever again. Because, dammit, even after everything, he still thought of Dick as his brother. 

Fuckkkkk, he was so in over his head, but he couldn’t back out now, “Yeah. Um, just let me know when and where and I’ll, I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” Dick whispered, “Thank you.”

It suddenly dawned on Jason what was happening. Had he seriously just agreed to pick his estranged brother up from the hospital after he’d been called instead of literally anyone else? What the fuck was he doing? What the fuck was going on? Jason needs a smoke. Time to think. Time to figure out where his feelings on his family the Bats truly lie.

“Bye,” he blurted out, already hanging up even as he heard Dick start to respond. There was no chance of him getting back to sleep now, and he was really craving a smoke. It was a bad habit, not something to be glamorized, but he was also a semi-psychotic crime lord, so it’s not like anyone should be looking to him as a role model. Begrudgingly, he dragged himself from his bed and snatched his pack of cigs and a lighter from his nightstand, then pulled on a hoodie before climbing out onto his fire escape to think.

----

Jason hadn’t figured anything out (besides a few new torture methods) by the time he was woken for the second time in three days with a call far too early in the morning. What could he say? Crime lording was a full-time job, and he didn’t tend to get those hours in while the sun was up. Feeling a strange sense of deja vu as he blindly reached for his phone, Jason tried to get his brain with the program of being awake. “The fuck you want? It’s too early,” Jason whined snapped very intimidatingly. 

Dick didn’t respond and Jason just about threw his phone across the room. If this fucker woke him for nothing. “Did you seriously butt dial me at,” Jason finally opened his eyes to squint at the time, “You called me at 08:11?” he asked incredulously, “What the fuck Dick??” 08:11?? Seriously? Jason happened to value his sleep, and working until around 6 every morning meant he didn’t usually get up until past noon. Dick still hadn’t responded and Jason was getting ready to use his forced wakefulness to toss his phone in his blender when a voice finally came over the line, “ Uhh, y-yeah, sorry. Not a butt dial. Sorry. ” Dick sounded genuinely apologetic so Jason guessed he could forgive the transgression. This time.

With a sigh, he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Running a hand down his face, he reassured, “T’fine. You getting discharged today?” Again, it took Dick long enough to respond that Jason was starting to wonder if it was a connection issue.

“ Yeah,” came the (Shocked? Surprised? Flabbergasted?) response before Dick tacked on, “I should be ready around noon, if that’s okay? ”

Jason got up, figuring that he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, “Yeah, that’s fine. Bludhaven Medical Center, right?” It wasn’t a stretch to guess that Dick would be at the only even semifuctional hospital in Bludhaven.

“ Uh, yeah. Yeah. ” Maybe they still had Dick on strong painkillers and he was struggling to string together his thoughts, Jason mused. 

“Okay. See you then.” 

“ Okay, by-- ” Jason hung up. He had things to do and was sure Dick would do plenty of chatting once Jason was actually there. It was only 08:13 which was way too early for full-blast Dick. Sue him. He started planning what he needed to do in his head. Shower, make breakfast, check in with his lieutenants. Oh, and leave early enough to get gas for the car he so rarely chose over his motorcycle. 

Okay, shower first. He could do this. 

----

Jason was out on his fire escape listening to the sounds of his city and watching smoke curl out from his cigarette before dissipating into the Gotham air. He’d just confirmed final details with his last lieutenant to make sure nothing went to hell while he was in Bludhaven.

Climbing back through the window, he checked the time and saw that it was only 09:30am. God, almost 2 hours until he had to leave. Maybe he should’ve gone back to sleep after all. But then he’d be extra groggy from another short stint at sleep, so it probably wasn’t worth it.

With a sigh, he resigned himself to running on just a few hours of sleep and decided to at least try to boost his energy levels with a run on his treadmill. He’d had a tea with breakfast, but endorphins had always worked better for Jason than caffeine alone, so Jason headed to the spare bedroom that he’d converted into a small home gym and got ready for an easy run. 

Music played in the background as Jason revelled in the steady beat of his feet hitting the belt. He could feel warmth building in his muscles, relaxing into the practiced motion of running, and allowed his thoughts to drift. Dick had asked Jason to pick him up. He hadn’t said anything about staying and Jason had been perfectly content to act as nothing more than a glorified uber driver and leave Dick to his devices once Jason had assured he wouldn’t bleed out in an alley.

Then he remembered the alley. 

“Dick?! What the fuck??”

What the fuck? What the fuck?? Why was Dick, the fucking Golden Boy of Wayne Manor, drunk at a club on the outskirts of Crime Alley. It wasn’t even close to Bristol, let alone Blüdhaven. What was he doing here?

Dick stirred in confusion as he registered his name. He squinted at Jason clearly trying to focus, before his expression shifted from confused to exasperated and exhausted. He thunked his head on the wall behind him as he spoke tiredly to the sky. “I can’t do this right now, Jason.”

Jason started a little at the blunt dismissal. “I was here first, Dickhead.” He shot back. “You don’t even live in Gotham. What’re you doing here?”

Dick hummed tiredly only vaguely looking at him as he responded, an edge to his voice. “Drinking, obviously. Relaxing.”

Jason managed to not glare too much, but he did quirk an eyebrow at the hostile tone and matched it, “Yeah, puking your guts out in a random alley is exactly my idea of fun.”

“I don’t-“ Dick went to defend himself before he cut himself off with groan and tiredly asked, “What do you want, Jason?”

Anger and hurt built up in Jason’s chest. Now he remembered. Dick knew who he was, he’d known for a long time considering he wasn’t surprised when Jason had first shown up at Dick’s apartment several months back.

Jason struggled to fight back the green. He wanted do this on his terms but he was getting sick of Dick’s blasse attitude, “It was to smoke, but shooting you is getting more and more tempting,” he practically growled in warning.

Dick didn’t seem to care as he huffed out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I felt you there.”

“You-“ Jason cut off his alarmed response as he remembered another part of that night in Dick’s apartment. Pieces were fitting together, and Jason did not like the picture they painted. “Weren’t you drunk the first time I saw you?”

“The first time?” Dick furrowed his brow in confusion as he tried to think through the alcohol, “When you were brought to the Manor?”

Concern was starting to overpower his anger again. This man and his family had abandoned and replaced him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do the same, no matter how much he wanted to turn and walk away.

He huffed and walked closer. “No, idiot. When I broke into your apartment.”

He reached Dick and lightly kicked his outstretched leg. “Just how drunk are you?”He tried for lighthearted, but the clear answer to his question was a concerning one.

“I-“ Dick cut off, suddenly staring at him like he’d seen a ghost. Which, yeah, but why was he only now getting that reaction?

“You-You’re real?!” He suddenly blurted, looking panicked and so confused.

For some reason, that stung. But mostly Jason was just really confused. “The fuck you mean?? Of course I’m real!” And then a painful thought popped into his head. He sneered to hide the pain, “Or are you so disappointed in me that you’re trying to pretend I never came back to tarnish your precious little brother’s legacy?”

Please don’t say yes. Lie to me. I don’t care. Just don’t say yes.

Dick scrambled rapidly to his feet, having to catch himself against the wall. “No! No, it’s not that. Little Wing-“

Jason couldn’t help it, he growled lowly, “Thought I told you not to call me that,” and Dick rushed to correct himself.

“Right, yes, Jason.

“I just, I’m so glad you’re not a hallucination this time.”

Jason stared dumbly at him.

And Dick just stared back.

Finally Jason spoke, “A fucking— You thought I was a hallucination?!” He had to have heard that wrong. A hallucination??

Dick blinked silently back at him, “…yes?”

Yes?? What did Jason even do with a response like that? What— he—.

Jason hit the stop button on the treadmill and allowed the belt to slow to a stop as the interaction sunk in. Yeahhhh, there was no fucking way he was going to Amazon driver this situation. No matter what Dick said or how he felt about the Bats at large, he wasn’t going to settle for chucking Dick at the door and running off to his next responsibility. 

Adding packing a bag with clothes and shit to his list, Jason headed for his second shower of the day.

----

Jason made it to the parking garage and spent 10 minutes finding a parking spot, then he headed up to visitor check-in before making his way to Dick’s room. His nerves were ratcheting higher and higher the closer he got to coming face to face with his brother Dick.

He got as far as reaching for the handle before he froze and backed against the opposite wall. His breathing was picking up, and suddenly, he wanted more than anything to just walk away. But then the memory surfaced of Dick taking Jason train surfing, even though Jason knew Dick was fighting with Bruce and even though Jason could tell he was exhausted. He remembered the exhaustion, hope, and fear in Dick’s voice a few days ago when he’d called Jason and asked him to come. Jason remembered the alley. 

With a grounding breath, Jason grabbed the handle and pushed through the door before he could second-guess himself another time.

Jason froze for a different reason as he took in the sight of his brother Dick propped up in the bed staring dully as a too-calm British voice narrated some lions chowing down on what probably used to be gazelles. 

Dick was slumped down against the angled bed tracing shapes on the blanket with his right hand while his left tapped an absent pattern from where it was held against his chest in a sling. He had dark circles under his eyes and a dull gaze, and Jason had hardly ever seen a person look more miserable. Concern tightened in his chest and he tried to cover it with snark, letting out a low whistle, “Wow, you look like shit.” 

Dick startled slightly and jolted to stare at Jason in shock. The concern coiled a little tighter at how thoroughly Jason had apparently managed to sneak up on Dick. He turned and took a second to breath deeply as he closed the door then put on an air of nonchalance as he walked over and pulled a chair up next to Dick’s bed. He dropped into it and shoved his hands into the pocket of his red hoodie as he waited for a reply--hopefully snarky, but Jason would take pretty much any response.

Dick didn’t respond instead opting to stare with wide-eyed shock at Jason, looking like he’d seen a ghost, and making him shift uncomfortably. 

“What?” Dick finally croaked, having clearly not registered anything other than the apparent surprise of Jason’s presence.

Jason tried to force his concern down and repeated himself, “I said you looked like shit.”

“Oh,” Dick breathed. He tore his eyes away from Jason and stared at the blankets on his lap.

With a grin that didn’t reach his eyes, he let out a laugh that wasn’t even slightly convincing, “Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here, that’s for sure.” He glanced back over to Jason, and his grin faltered when Jason kept staring at him with confusion and concern.

Hoping to get Dick to say something a little more honest, Jason didn’t say anything, and, after a second, Dick cleared his throat and awkwardly asked, “So, you about ready to go?”

So, it was going to be like this then, “Sure,” he said after a second more of letting Dick sweat. 

Dick latched onto that single syllable like a lifeline, “Great! Lemme just call the nurse in here and we can bust outta this place!” Dick had reinforced his fake grin and this time didn’t let it falter when Jason only returned it with a straight-lipped smile. Maybe Dick just really wanted to go home, but Jason had the sneaking, sinking suspicion that so much more was going on. 

“Sounds good,” Jason said before leaning back in his chair, though he almost jerked back up at the pained his Dick let out as he twisted to press the call button. Dick settled back into his bed as Jason watched carefully and saw as Dick’s brows seemed to pinch in confusion at the television screen, before smoothing back out into dull complacency. 

----

Jason was quiet as Dick did his song and dance, smiling and chatting with the hospital staff. He carried Dick’s things and answered questions when needed, but didn’t get involved further than that. He watched with growing concern at how clear a facade Dick was putting up, but opted to not say anything until they were safely checked out from the hospital since Dick seemed bordering on desparate to leave. As soon as they walked out into the parking garage, it was like Dick was a different person. Gone was the grinning, good-natured patient, the brave officer injured in his protection of the innocent. In its place, there shuffled a quiet shell of a person, with an invisible weight pushing them into the ground, making each moment a battle. Sure, the puppet strings were still being pulled, guiding him forward with jolting steps and an artificial smile painted on his face, but the eyes were as dull as any other doll’s, and acting was pointless without an engaged audience.

What had Jason gotten himself into? 

Resolving to dig further, he unlocked the car and left Dick to get settled while he deposited the bag in his trunk. Peering through the window as he walked to his side of the car, he saw that Dick had slumped tiredly against the seat. Again, the image of a marionette entered his brain unbidden--strings dropped and lifeless until the performance began anew. 

And begin it did as soon as Jason opened the door. Dick obviously forced himself to perk up, leaning away from the support of the car door. Jason almost snapped him to “sit back, dammit,” but he knew anger, even from a place of concern would only build the walls higher, so he willed himself to calm the churning concern wondering when it had grown so vast and got settled.

“You doing okay?” he finally asked. There, a good balance of casual and genuine.

But his efforts were deemed null when Dick glanced over at him with a smile that belayed his exhaustion and crowed the fakest reassurance Jason had ever heard. “Yeah, just ready to be home, you know?”

Jason internally slammed his forehead against the steering wheel in frustration at the damn Bat-trained emotional suppression. Externally, he glanced past Dick as he back out from the parking stall, responding with a simple, “Sure.”

Despite not having had a civil (and sober) conversation with the man in years, a part of Jason had still been expecting Dick to chatter away. Instead, they made it out of the garage and about three blocks down the road before Dick broke the silence with a quiet, “Thanks, I know I’m asking a lot of you to come out here and take me back to my apartment.”

Murdering whoever made Dick think that a ride and a check-in was a monumental favor would not help the situation, but god was it tempting. “Don’t worry about it,” he brushed off instead.

“I’m serious, Jason,” Dick insisted.

Jason tried to hold back, but a scoff still escaped, “So am I, dickhead.” Lowercase “d”. Dick would know the difference.

“Okay,” he simply said, sounding too tired to argue.

“Okay,” Jason said.

They lapsed back into silence and had nearly made it back to Dick’s apartment before it was broken again.

“You uh--” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly, sounding confused and like he was pretending not to be, “You know where you’re going?”

Alarm shot through Jason and he shot Dick a look before he remembered how out of it Dick had been that night Jason had visited. He focused resolutely on the road and supplied, “I’ve been to your apartment before.”

“Oh,” Dick said absently.

“I forgot about that,” he mumbled after a moment, the honesty startling a bark of laughter out of Jason.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. You forget about the alley, too?” he shot back. He’d been going for teasing, but it clearly hit a sore spot.

“No, I remember that just fine. Why else would I have called you.” Dick spat defensively.

An ache that felt suspiciously like longing grew at the stark reminder of what they were to each other. They weren’t brothers, they weren’t even friends. Jason was the bottom contact, the last resort. The enemy that wasn’t currently the greatest threat. He swallowed heavily, regretting his attempt at banter, if only so he could’ve pretended for at least a little longer. Some part of him was hoping that Dick did remember the alley, that he did remember saying he missed Jason and that he did actually mean it. But either Dick didn’t remember or he didn’t mean it, so Jason resolved to just pretend like the middle part of their conversation never happened. If Dick never said he missed Jason, then he had nothing to be hurt over and everything would be fine.

“Right,” he said dully. 

He pulled up to Dick’s apartment and parked in the spot designated for overnight guests. Without sparing another glance at Dick, he headed for the bag in the trunk and wordlessly let Dick lead the way to his apartment.

He’d been hoping to avoid anymore conflict, but almost stepped in to take the key from Dick’s shaking hand, before it was shamefully shoved over. Jason dropped the bag and quickly unlocked the door, letting Dick push past with a mumbled, “Thanks.”

Dick disappeared into the apartment while Jason took the time to close and lock the door and remove his shoes and jacket. Feeling awkward just standing there, he hefted Dick’s bag back into the air and wandered down the hall to Dick’s bedroom.

Jason had only been here once before, but images from that night were seared in his brain overlaid with far more agonizing ones of crowbars and laughter, and he quickly deposited the bag on Dick’s bed, ignoring the itch to straighten out the sheets, before returning to the main area.

He’d expected Dick to have returned by that point, but was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room for several minutes before opting to snoop for something for them to eat.

His exploration revealed half-empty cupboards, bare of anything of real substance, and he was just opening the fridge when he heard a door finally open. He closed the fridge, didn’t take long to examine something that was practically barren, but opened it again when he heard soft steps padding back his way, just to have something to be doing. 

“Where the fucks your food, man?” he called over his shoulder. 

Dick’s voice came out a little strained as he excused the abhorrent lack of sustenance with a simple, “Been busy.”

Concern shot down Jason’s spine and he turned to look at Dick, taking in the lines of pain etched into his figure before shutting the fridge and walked to join Dick at the counter. “When’s the last time you took meds?” he asked.

Dick made an aborted shrug, then grimaced in pain and admitted, “Don’know. Been a while, I guess.”

Jason let out a heavy sigh, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t really want to leave Dick alone (and when did that happen?), but food should probably take priority. Besides Dick looked about ready to keel over.

“Okay,” he decisively, “Here’s the plan: You’re gonna make like a good little patient and take some meds then go lay down for a while,” he sensed Dick about to argue and quickly clarified, “I don’t care if you sleep, but at least try to rest. I’m gonna run out to the store and pick up some groceries so we don’t starve to death. Good?”

Dick looked so confused and shocked that Jason didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or punch something. “We?” he asked, “I really appreciate your help, but all I needed was a ride back home. I don’t expect you to stick around.”

“You never expect anything from anyone,” Jason almost growled back. Instead, he scoffed and gestured disbelievingly at the fridge. “The state of your fridge has a different opinion on what you need help with,” that wouldn’t be good enough for Dick so he quickly tacked on an excuse, “Plus my oven is broken and yours is too nice to not be used.” Jason’s oven in fact worked perfectly fine, but Dick’s oven was ridiculously nice and Jason genuinely did want to use it. “Now, no arguing. Get your sorry ass in bed and I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“O-okay,” Dick stuttered out in confusion.

“Great.” Jason shoved off the counter and quickly gathered his things in hopes that he could get Dick to comply by force of shock alone. Plus, he was feeling some very strong emotions, and he didn’t particularly feel like dealing with any of them, and he just might if he stayed here with the man he’d once longed to call brother.

“Don’t die while I’m gone!” He called out as he rushed out the door, accidentally slamming it behind him.

----

Jason isn’t the kind of guy to process emotions in real-time--he absorbs, stews, then tries to outrun the weight of it before it catches up, so, yeah, he’s stepping out for groceries, but he’s not just buying milk and vegetables, he’s also trying to give himself space to breathe without cracking. He doesn’t even know why he’s suddenly so invested, and he’s almost angry with himself for falling in so quickly.

He browsed the aisles in the store, absently tracing along the shelves and grabbing essentials on near autopilot as his thoughts drifted.

Jason spent years clawing his way back to Gotham, dragging his sanity along behind him, with the goal of finally being the thing the city needs--whether or not Batman agrees. He hasn’t forgiven any of them, Dick included. Hell, he’s angry at Dick specifically for never being there when he was younger, too wrapped up in his own problems with Bruce to see an opportunity to stop history from repeating itself.

And he’s angry at Dick for wrecking Jason’s narrative of who he was and who he is. 

They didn’t care. They weren’t supposed to care. They abandoned him and didn’t learn their lesson. They let another little birdie into the nest and didn’t even kill the snake to stop it from sneaking back and killing another robin. Somewhere along the way, that fear of another bird dying, the hurt at his death meaning nothing, got twisted into a brutal intent to teach the Bats a lesson on survival of the fittest.

But Jason’s idea of Dick, the Golden Boy, the first Robin, didn’t at all match with the grief-heavy, guilt-fueled mess here now. Jason knew the look in Dick’s eyes. He’d seen it on people back when he was on the streets. People who had nothing and no one. 

People who never lasted long once the weight settled into resolve.

So many parts of him are screaming to go back to his carefully planned script, to forget all about this aside and leave Dick as alone as Jason had been. To let his family The Bats suffer like he’d suffered. But then he remembers how badly he’d wanted Dick to reach out towards the end, how scary it was to be alone in that warehouse watching the timer countdown. And even after he’d resigned himself to his fate, accepted that no one was coming, he’d stayed facing the door, watching it through blood and tears, begging it to open. Begging for Batman-- his Dad --to come save him.

He hasn’t forgiven, Dick. There’s still distance and still history that he hasn’t sorted through. But he’s seen the cracks, and he can’t go back to pretending they aren’t there. 

He doesn’t want to go back to that apartment, but he’s grabbed everything he needs, and a part of him is still just a kid dreaming of a big brother. He still cares, even after everything that did and didn’t happen, so he can’t walk away from this. Not now. 

By the time he’s back in the parking lot, he still feels conflicted about some things, but he’s also a little more in control because he’s made a decision: he’s not letting any more Robins die. If Dick won’t ask for help, then Jason will be the one to force it. He can’t just put aside all the complicated things between them, all the problems he has with Bruce and Batman, but he can be here for Dick.

Because, above all else, the thing that was supposed to be his goal all along: No More Dead Robins.

----

Jason winced as the door banged shut behind him, but his arms were full of groceries, so there hadn’t been anything he could do. Hoping that it hadn’t woken Dick up (hoping that he’d even gone to sleep), Jason was more careful about setting the bags on the counter and beginning to put them away. 

From down the hall, he heard shuffling steps and he glanced up to see Dick walk into the main room. He watched, clutching his shoulder, and he looked like he’d been asleep. Even more than that, though, he looked like he was in agony. Jason scoffed, pushing down the worry and misplaced hurt that Dick clearly hadn’t taken anything for the pain while Jason had been gone, and immediately paused in putting away groceries to wordless fill a glass with water and hand over two tabs of extra strength acetaminophen, all the while ignoring the crawling, sick feeling at the thought that Dick might need something stronger.

“Thanks,” Dick rasped before downing hte meds and entire cup of water quickly. Then, like a man from the desert, he went straight to the sink and filled his cup for a second, then a third time. Jason was about to intervene, tell him he’d throw it all up if he drank anymore, when Dick finally set the cup down and turned around to catch Jason staring.

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Dick said, “Sorry, I was thirsty,” with a chagrined smile.

Jason rolled his eyes in response. “Clearly,” he said dryly before turning back to his groceries. 

----

Jason was so far out of his depth here. Dick was acting weird, well weirder. He was swinging wildly between snapping at Jason and storming off, sitting at the barstools and chatting nonstop about random nothingness while Jason utilized his sadly neglected kitchen and gorgeous oven, and completely zoning out. Jason went so far as to stress-bake 3 batches of fancy browned butter chocolate chip cookies with sea salt. Dick had been in one of his isolationist phases during the prep portion, but was around for the delivery of fresh cookies. 

“These are so good!” He’d exclaimed as he grabbed two more. “Thanks for making chocolate chip cookies!”

Chocolate chip cookies. Basic. Insulting. “They’re not basic like that, idiot! They’re browned butter with sea salt!” Jason scoffed at how simplistic Dick’s palate must be to not be able to tell the difference, but the look of mild fear and massive confusion on Dick’s face as he mouthed “Brown Butter?” to himself almost made the blasphemy worth it. 

Dick was getting progressively more ansty as Jason went about cleaning the kitchen, already planning other recipes to take advantage of that glorious oven. “It’s seriously criminal that you don’t use this thing more often,” he’d declared, “Why the hell does it have dual-fan opposing convection??” (Yes, he’s a nerd like that, and no, he won’t apologize.)

Dick had looked almost guilty (but not guilty enough in Jason’s opinion) as he mumbled, “I mean, I sometimes dry my suit in it?” And Jason just stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

Dick’s fidgeting and nervous glances got bad enough that Jason almost asked if he needed to be let outside like a puppy. Instead, he tried to encourage Dick to open up on his own and went about gathering ingredients for stir fry, (or ding more specifically since there would be cubed chicken and vegetables with cashews as the crunchy ingredient).

He cubed some chicken, then combined it in a bowl with canola oil, soy sauce, Shaoxing wine (rice wine for cooking ONLY), white pepper, sugar, salt, and cornstarch. He preferred to let his meats marinate overnight, generally, but 30 minutes would have to do in this case. Popping that in the fridge and making sure anything the raw chicken touched was thoroughly cleaned (he doesn’t fuck with Salmonella, thank you very much), he moved on to prepping the other ingredients. First, he washed some brown rice (white rice was traditional but he liked the added chew that came with brown rice) and started it cooking in a covered pot on the stove (Dick’s a heathen that doesn’t have a rice cooker).

Then, he grabbed a frying pan and set it on the stove to let it preheat. While it was warming, he washed all of the vegetables and grabbed the bag of unsalted cashews he’d bought.

Dumping the cashews into the hot frying pan, he let them get a little toasted before dumping them onto a plate with a paper towel on it to let them cool with enough air to not get soggy.

Time for chopping things.

Absently, he noted that Dick was still sitting and watching, but he was in the zone now so he didn’t acknowledge him. He stemmed and diced some button mushrooms (a real shame that they didn’t have cremini at the store, they had a more complex flavor), and set them in a bowl of their own, then diced the celery, zucchini, and red bell pepper. The celery and zucchini went in a bowl together, but the bell pepper got its own since it would be cooked for less time.

For his secret ingredient, Jason grabbed a jicama. Native to Mexico, but surprisingly popular in China, it adds a wonderful, sweet, crispy crunch as a counterbalance in the dish. He peeled and diced it before tossing it in the bowl with the celery and zucchini and moved on to making the sauce. 

Just a simple one with minced garlic, soy sauce, toasted sesame oil, cold water, and cornstarch. The cold water was essential because the cornstarch gets clumpy if you use hot ingredients.

Jason checked the time and saw that it had been just about 30 minutes, so he grabbed the chicken from the fridge and let it sit for 5 minutes while he heated a large frying pan (internally sobbing that Dick didn’t have a wok). 2 teaspoons of oil over high heat until smoking, add chicken and spread it out with a spatula so that all pieces were in contact with the pan. Then, he didn’t touch it until the chicken was starting to brown on the bottom. That took about a minute and then he was free to stir regularly while the chicken got up to an internal temperature of 165 degrees Fahrenheit (again, he doesn’t fuck with Salmonella and the color of meat doesn’t actually tell you shit about its doneness; temperature checks all the way so thank god Dick at least had a thermometer). 

After 3-4 minutes, the chicken was done, so he transferred it to a fresh bowl and started the process again. 2 teaspoons of oil, heat over high until smoking. This time, he added the mushrooms and let them cook until they released liquid. Then, and only then, did he add some salt before continuing to cook until the liquid evaporated. He transferred them to a bowl before, you guessed it: adding 2 teaspoons of oil and heating the pan over high heat until it was smoking, then adding the jicama, celery, and zucchini, stirring until the jicama was just starting to brown. 

Time for the fun part. 

He checked to confirm that the rice was done and cut the heat to let it rest for a few minutes, then got back to his ding. He tossed the red bell pepper in with the other vegetables and seasoned them with salt before letting the bell pepper get tender. Then he added the mushrooms back in and let them cook for about a minute before adding the chicken. He stirred everything in the pan, then grabbed the sauce, stirring that quickly, then poured it in with everything else. Continue stirring and cooking until the sauce thickens (like magic, every time) before cutting the heat and adding some of the cashews and stirring them all together.

He dished rice into two bowls and added the ding before topping it with more of the cashews.

He was a huge proponent of cleaning as you go, but this was best served piping hot, so everything else could wait until after they’d eaten. 

“Yo, Dick,” he called, turning around, “You got chopsticks?”

Dick sat up from where he’d been slumped with his head buried in the crook of his elbow against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before making eye contact with Jason.

“Uhh, yeah. Yeah.” It seemed like his brain was buffering, so Jason gave him a few seconds, “They’re in the silverware drawer, in the back.”

“Thanks.” Jason slid one bowl across the table to sit in front of Dick and slid the other to the spot next to him then grabbed two sets of chop sticks and setting those out too.

“You’re too skinny,” Jason declared, “And probably deficient in like every micronutrient, so eat up.”

Dick have a weak laugh, “Heh, yeah. It looks great, thank you.”

Despite the praise, Dick didn’t pick up his chopsticks instead engaging in a staring contest with the food while his arms stayed wrapped around his middle.

Jason knew nausea all too well, and he was starting to worry he was seeing the signs. Hoping he was wrong, he started eating, silently urging Dick to join in, and, after a few more moments, Dick did slowly pick up his chop sticks and start eating. 

Dick hummed in appreciation, but only managed a couple of bites before he was shoving the bowl away from himself and rushing out of the room. Jason followed behind and blew out a sharp breath as he heard Dick start throwing up in the bathroom.

He hadn’t been wrong about the nausea and he couldn’t imagine how badly the heaving made Dick’s shoulder hurt. (A fuck ton if the rasping sobs were anything to go by. They were almost enough to make Jason knock on the door and ask to come in, but he could smell the food from here, and while it smelled salivating to him, it would no doubt make Dick feel a hundred times wosre.) With a sigh, he walked away from the door and cleaned everything up. He put their leftovers in tupperware hoping that Dick would be able to stomach something later, but he resolved to not be upset about any potential wasted food, and settled in to wait for Dick. 

Even with the time Jason had spent cleaning, it was far too long before Dick reentered the main area. He was pale and shaking slightly and looked more exhausted than ever. Jason got up and filled a glass of water telling Dick, “I don’t wanna deal with your body when you die from dehydration,” but secretly so worried. Dick sat down then quietly took the glass and drank the water in little sips. Jason stayed in the kitchen and started drying dishes just for something to do while he pretended not to watch Dick. Dick who was staring absently at the countertop and seemingly not even aware of the tears tracking slowly down his face. 

Finally, Jason had no chores left to do--had even washed and dried Dick’s now empty cup--so he gently coralled Dick to the couch, careful to give him space so he didn’t feel crowded. He turned to ask Dick what he wanted to watch, but one look told him he probably wouldn’t get an answer, so he pulled up Titanic and settled in to keep one eye on the movie and the other on Dick. 

Thankfully, Dick didn’t get sick again and he even seemed to doze off after a little while. Jason took the opportunity to check Dick’s stitches, making sure that none had popped, and that nothing looked infected or inflamed. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the hospital had covered Dick’s wounds with one of those breathable, waterproof bandages. It was clear so Jason could see everything, and it meant that, if nothing went wrong, neither of them would have to worry about changing any bandages for the next 5-7 days. 

Jason was tempted to leave Dick sleeping on the couch, but figured it would hurt more in the long run, so he roused him once the movie was over and sent him to bed for real, then headed to bed himself. 

----

Jason’s alarm went off at 8am, and he was so tempted to just shut it off and go back to sleep. He almost did until his brain woke up just enough to register that he wasn’t in his own bed, and then everything rushed back in, his concern for Dick being the biggest thing. Dick wasn’t doing well, no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, he had been shaky and nauseous yesterday, and Jason couldn’t be too sure, but he was pretty sure he’d lost weight. Beyond that, Dick was vacillating wildly between snapping at every little thing Jason did, isolating himself in his bedroom, sitting and talking Jason’s ear off, and completely zoning out. It all came together to paint a picture that Jason really didn’t like. He felt so out of his depth, but there clearly wasn’t anyone else here to help, so Jason would have to do. Past behind them, he wanted to care about Dick and thought Dick cared about him too, so he’d just have to do what he could. And something he could do was start on breakfast, so, with a groan, he pulled himself from bed and tiredly made his way to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. 

He flicked on the light in the main room and was met with a low groan. Dick sat up from where he’d been slumped on the couch, “J’son?” he slurred, squinting at Jason who just stood there dumbly rubbing at his face to try to wake up.

“Dick?” What the hell? “What’re you doing up? It’s like 8am?”

Dick snorted, and swayed forward to swipe a mug from off the table downing whatever was in it.. Jason couldn’t tell what it was, coffee maybe? But Jason couldn’t smell any coffee, or even tea for that matter. Maybe it was just water?

“And I thought I wasn’t a morning person,” he teased, standing up with a little wobble before heading to the kitchen. Jason heard the sink turn on and followed Dick into the kitchen with confusion. Dick turned around, grinning lazily at him, “8am isn’t that early, silly, I usually work at like 6 or something.” Jason stared at him as he shuffled to the barstools and keeled forward to lay his cheek on the counter as he closed his eyes. Vague dread started tightening in Jason’s gut at how drastically different Dick was today before he got distracted by Dick’s actual comment.

Isn’t that early?? Well, excussse him for having an active nightlife. He was a full-time crime lord-vigilante-person, and you don’t generally put in the hours for a job like that during daylight hours. He crossed his arms and glared at Dick for the insult. “Well, excuse me for having things to do at night.” With a huff, Jason made his way into the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the fridge and cupboards.

“Omelets okay?” he asked, turning to glance at Dick. “Think you can stomach it?” He wasn’t exactly eager for a repeat of last night and he was sure Dick would want it even less, but he would have to figure something out for Dick to eat even if it wasn’t omelets.

But Dick just hummed his assent, not even bothering to raise his head or open his eyes. 

They stayed silent while Jason got breakfast ready. Jason kept glancing surreptitiously at the man lying on the counter, but he didn’t move for the duration of the cooking process.

“Eat,” Jason instructed gruffly as he dropped the plate in front of Dick. Jason watched as Dick opened his eyes drowsily and slowly dragged himself to sitting before pulling the plate closer. He fumbled for his fork and mullishly started to eat. Jason nodded to himself after Dick ate a few bites. For someone who’d proclaimed it to be a reasonable hour, he didn’t seem to be very present, but he was eating, so it’d have to do. Dick glanced over at him questioningly, but Jason just turned to his food and started eating.

Suddenly Dick started coughing letting the fork clatter to the plate as he grasped desperately at his shoulder. “What’d you put in these?” he gasped between racking coughs.

Jason was concerned at the pinched look of pain in Dick’s face, but pushed it aside. “Red pepper flakes, dumbass. They’re from your spice cabinet.” Wasn’t his fault if the man couldn’t handle basic seasonings. Even if anxiety and guilt twisted in his stomach when Dick let his head hang and let out a low groan as he tried to catch his breath. Dick swallowed, finally getting his coughing and breathing under control, and let out a weak, “Oh.”

After a few seconds, he rasped, “Could I get some water, please?”

Could he? Dick should know better than that. “Sure, you can get some water,” Jason replied, not moving to get up. Dick glanced up questioningly and groaned before laughing at the sight of Jason’s shit eating grin.

Jason laughed too, getting up to fill a cup with water anyway. “Learn English better, loser.”

“It’s like my third language, you little shit,” he shot back, “You are exactly the same.” Jason flinched without meaning to, and they both froze. Jason turned around tensely and watched as the grin dropped off Dick’s face. “Uhh, I mean-”

Blood was rushing in Jason’s ears, the panic and longing of a long-dead child overwhelming him. “Drop it,” he cut off. Jason was fighting to keep control of himself and he didn’t want to lose it in front of Dick, so he set the cup down in front of Dick, harder than he intended, water splashing over the side. He swallowed thickly and rushed out of the room with a mumbled, “M’gonna take a shower.”

Jason let the door slam shut behind him and fell against it, gasping for air. “Shit. Shit. ” What was he doing? Pretending he had a family, that everything was all fine and dandy? He wasn’t stable enough for this. One comment, a single callback, and he was panicking in a bathroom. Tears blurred his vision as he tried to slow his breathing. He couldn’t do this. 

Pushing off the door, he stumbled to the shower and fumbled around for the handle, twisting it all the way to cold. He tore at his shirt, feeling suffocated, like there was no air. Like he was back in his grave. Jason nearly tripped as he got out of his sweatpants, but he managed to catch himself on the wall and quickly stepped under the freezing water, gasping as it poured over his body and down his face. His breathing stuttered, and the next one came out as a sob. Pressing back against the shower wall, he let himself slide to the ground while he clutched at his chest, desperate to feel the beating of his heart. It was rabbit fast, but it was there. It was proof that he was alive. He was actively crying now, but the sound of the pelting water helped hide his quiet sobs enough that he didn’t think Dick would be able to hear him.

“You’re exactly the same.” Oh, how Jason wished that were true. But he wasn’t the same. He was the monster that crawled out of a dead boy’s grave in a dead boy’s body. He wished that he were the kid that they lost, that he hoped they mourned, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. Not after everything he’d done. And most of it he didn’t regret, most of it he stood by. Some people couldn’t be saved, some people deserved to die--he should know, he’s pretty sure he’s one of them--but he’d learned more since coming back to Gotham, and he regretted hurting the little bird. He’d do anything to take it back, he’d go back in time and stop himself from coming back if he could. But he couldn’t, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t so sure he deserved the opportunity to try. 

He cracked his head back against the wall, the sharp ache clearing his mind a little. He wanted his family back so badly. He could’ve had a little brother, he could’ve made it work. But all he saw was another kid in the Robin colors, jumping across the rooftops, conspiring with Batman, and he couldn’t help but feel replaced. Couldn’t help but be mad at Bruce for putting another child in danger like that. And the hurt and fear festered until all he could think about was getting rid of Robin, no matter what that meant. So he hurt a child. Repeatedly. And he’d lost any chance to go back to his family. Bruce hated him, the kid probably did too, and was almost certainly terrified of him. It was tearing him apart at the seams, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

Then he remembered Dick. The brother he’d hardly had, but had so badly wanted. The one who’d made it clear he’d mourned Jason. The one who’d clung to him in that alley like he never wanted to let go. Jason took a shuddering breath and opened his eyes, squinting against the pelting, freezing water. His teeth were chattering he registered absently. He should probably get out before he becomes hypothermic. Could you do that in a shower? Probably.

He should get out.

But Dick was out there. And Jason didn’t want to explain his freakout, didn’t want to look at the face of hurt as Jason’s visceral reaction to Dick treating him like they were brothers. As if that wasn’t the thing Jason longed for the most in the entire world.

He was shaking. He should probably get out.

Dick wasn’t okay.

None of them were, Jason didn’t think, but he was especially concerned about Dick.

He needed to help his brother.

He reached stiffly for the handle and shut the water off. After taking a few more moments to breathe, he climbed out and slowly dried himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist, gathered up the discarded clothes, and snuck back to the guest room. 

As badly as he wanted to talk to Dick, he didn’t feel ready, so he took his time warming up and getting dressed then headed back to the kitchen. Plates were left abandoned, food half eaten, and Dick was no where to be seen. Jason sighed heavily, ate the rest of his cold omelet, mourned throwing away the rest of Dick’s, cleaned the dishes, then went looking for Dick. He didn’t find him, but his door was shut. He tried knocking on Dick’s closed door, but got no response, so he retreated back to his “own” room while he tried to figure out what to do. In his room, he paced and worried, he ran through routines of pushups and situps, even tried meditating a little, but nothing was getting him out of his head.

Eventually, he emerged, and tried knocking on Dick’s door again, but still didn’t get an answer. Maybe he was sleeping? He really hoped Dick wasn’t ignoring him on purpose. But, Dick needed sleep, so hopefully he was sleeping. In the meantime, Jason set himself the task of cleaning the apartment just so he had something to do, and decided to start with the living room. He took a smoke break out on Dick’s fire escape before remembering that Dick hadn’t finished eating breakfast. Jason was already concerned about the amount (or lack thereof) of food Dick was eating, so, since it was around 10am, he made a simple sandwich--whole grain bread, turkey, lettuce, pickles, mayo, and no mustard (because Dick was a freak)--and went to fetch Dick. For the third time that morning, he knocked on Dick’s door and again received no response. “I made food!” He called hesitantly through the door. He waited several minutes but got no response. “You need to eat, Dick!” Finally, he heard muffled sounds coming from inside the room. Dick opened the door, avoiding Jason’s eyes and followed him back to the main area, where he sat down heavily at the counter and slowly picked at his sandwich while staring absently at his plate. Guilt churned in Jason’s stomach, but Dick didn’t seem to want company so Jason ducked out with the excuse of grabbing stuff from his car. He didn’t know what else to do. When he came back, the plate was washed and drying in the rack next to the sink, and Dick was no where to be seen.

Jason spent the rest of the day forcing Dick to eat every 3ish hours--always making up an excuse and leaving once he was sure Dick was eating--and trying to figure out what to say to Dick. Part of him wanted to just sit down and take a second to breathe, but the ansty feeling in his gut wouldn’t let him just lounge around for longer than a few minutes, so he spent the hours trying to make future Dick’s life easier. He meal prepped some food that would last well in the freezer, made up some healthy snacks that could just stay in the fridge for easy access, then dedicated himself to deep cleaning the kitchen (not that it needed it based on how little Dick seemed to use it). 

Dick left his room willingly for the first time since this morning while Jason was scrubbing furiously at the kitchen sink. 

“Uhh, hi,” came the soft call from behind Jason, whose heart rate had spiked dramatically at the sudden presence of another person. Damn Bats and their ghosting around.

Jason turned around and gave Dick a once over. He looked exhausted enough that Jason was giving up hope on Dick having used the time to get some sleep, he was clutching at his bad shoulder and his figure was lined with pain. Dick still seemed hesitant to be around Jason, but he’d come out for a reason, so Jason returned a simple, “Hi,” and returned to his task of brute-forcing the sink back to sparkling white hoping that the lack of scrutiny would help Dick do whatever he came out here to do. 

After a minute or so, Jason heard a tired sigh and steps shuffling away. He turned around, and saw Dick head toward the couch. Maybe he was in one of his unsocial social phases and wanted to be around someone, but didn’t want to talk. He heard the quiet sounds of videos playing on Dick’s phone and let the proof of life fade to comfortable background noise as he continued to clean. At one point, when Jason had left to take the garbages out, it looked like Dick was sleeping. Even in sleep, Dick looked tired and pained and Jason felt so out of his depth.

Jason was almost done polishing the handles of Dick’s cupboards--just had the two higher ones next to the sink left--when Dick interupted.

“Jason, can I come in?” Wowww, way to be passive-aggressive.

“It’s your apartment,” he snarked back as he turned around. And was abruptly alarmed at the state of his brother. 

Dick was listing against the doorway. Head hanging heavy, panting lightly, and clutching at his shoulder like it would fall off if he didn’t hold it in place. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he looked about 30 seconds from passing out. “Jesus, Dick, are you okay?”

“M’fine,” Dick mumbled in the least convincing tone ever. He heaved himself away from the door, grimacing and letting out a cut-off sound, as he unsteadily made his way further into the kitchen. Jason stepped out of the way when Dick came up next to him. 

Dick reached up to grab a cup from the cupboard then practically dropped it on the counter as he jolted and curled in on himself. Dick’s face paled rapidly and his expression screwed up tight as he let out a low groan. Dick was in pain, Jason realized with a sudden jolt. A lot of pain. 

Fuck, when was the last time Dick had taken any pain meds? 

The realization spurred Jason into motion and he quickly went for the bottle of acetaminophen on the counter, shaking a few out and handing them over to Dick who’d somehow managed to fill the cup with water in the meantime. He watched with concern as Dick carefully swallowed the pills and drank the water, then set the cup down and turned to lean back against the counter. His hand went back to holding his shoulder, and he was taking slow, measured breaths, head hanging low, his eyes squeezed shut. 

Jason watched him for another few seconds, completely lost on how else to help, before deciding to start with getting Dick to sit down before he passed out from the pain. Jason quickly put away the cleaning supplies and then went into the main room to clear a space on the couch. “Dick,” he called out. The man hummed in response, but didn’t join Jason. 

“Come sit down,” he tried again.

“‘Kay,” came the absent reply. Dick still didn’t appear so Jason walked back to the kitchen and found Dick exactly as he’d left him: leaning heavily against the counter with every line of his body screaming pain. 

He walked up closer and called softly, “Dick.” 

Dick flinched and let out a strangled gasp as the movement sent pain flaring through his body. Jason grimaced with guilt at accidentally scaring the man, and felt ever worse when Dick snapped a sharp, “What?” through gritted teeth. It made Jason want to flee, he felt like he was just making things worse. But he’d made a vow not to leave, so he would stay.

“C’mon,” he said quietly, placing his hand lightly on Dick’s back and trying to gently guide Dick away from the counter.

Dick didn’t open his eyes or respond, but he also didn’t resist and that was good enough for Jason.

He was originally planning on the couch, but Jason could feel Dick literally shaking with pain and decided Dick should probably just fully lay down, so he instead led them to Dick’s bedroom. Dick leaned more and more heavily on Jason as they walked and Jason prepared himself to take all of his brother’s weight, but they made it to the bed without further incident.

“Look at me, Bigbird,” Jason softly prompted, hoping that they’d be able to do this without too much more pain. “Step towards your bed. Can you get up there by yourself?”

Dick blinked his eyes open in confusion, staring blearily at Jason. “Jason, wha-” he started to ask, but cut himself with a tight nod as the question seemed to process in his head. “Yeah, ‘think so.”

Jason studied Dick for a moment, scrutinizing him, but figuring he could just pick Dick up and lay him on the bed if need be. “Okay,” he decided, “C’mon. I’ll make sure you don’t faceplant.”

Dick took a deep, shuddering breath, “‘Kay.”

“Ready?” Jason steadied his stance and prepared to stop Dick from overbalancing. Dick nodded again and Jason counted them down. Jason had to grab Dick’s waist to stop Dick from falling directly on his injured shoulder, and Dick let out a pain hiss as it jolted his body, but he was soon sitting on the bed and scooting back towards the middle. He carefully lowered himself to lying and took a few heaving breaths as Jason watched on with worry.

Jason waited for Dick’s breathing to start regularizing and the pain to start fading now that he was settled, but it only seemed to get worse.

Dick’s right hand suddenly shot out to grab at his left shoulder and he gasped in pain, “Ngh, Jason.” Dick’s eyes were screwed shut, but Jason could hear the hitching in his breath.

Jason leaned over him, trying to figure out what he could do. “Hey, hey, I’m right here,” he soothed and Dick pried open his eyes staring up at Jason through tears. “Wha’do you need?” he asked, watching with horror as the tears started to run down Dick’s face.

Now that he was closer, Jason could see when Dick’s shoulder spasmed and Dick let out a choking sound as he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. Jason grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed and carefully shifted Dick towards his right side so he could postion the pillow to support his left arm. Dick whined in protest as Jason moved him, and let out a gasping sob as Jason settled him back down. 

“You’re okay, Dickie. I gotcha,” he soothed. Dick didn’t seem to be fully present anymore, and Jason was hesitant to leave him for even a second, but he knew an cold pack would provide some relief while they waited for the meds to kick in.

After hesitating for just a second longer, Jason quickly grabbed an cold pack from the kitchen, wrapping it in a hand towel as he hurried back to Dick’s room. Dick was still letting out little hitching sobs and Jason pulled Dick’s protective hand away as carefully as he could so he could lay the icepack down in its place. Dick tensed up at first but soon let out a small questioning sound as he relaxed the tiniest amount. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Just a cold pack, Dickie,” he tried to sooth. “You’re okay.” 

The nickname just slipped out and made Jason freeze up for a second, waiting for Dick to glare at him, but Dick almost seemed to relax more at the sound of it, so Jason continued talking gently to him, hovering over his brother anxiously for several minutes just waiting for another muscle spasm or for something else to go wrong, but Dick slowly relaxed and his grimaced softened.

Eventually, he blinked his eyes back open and met Jason’s eyes, who was staring back down at him with concern.

“J’son?” he mumbled.

“Shh, just relax,” he soothed. “Try to sleep.”

Dick’s eyes almost immediately seemed to grow heavier and they fluttered closed again with a heavy sigh. 

“‘Mkay, Jay.” Jason’s breath hitched at Dick returning the use of nicknames. His breathing slowed, and his body grew limp. Jason thought Dick was already asleep when he murmured one more thing. “‘Love you, Jay. Ya’good brother.” Jason let out a wet scoff, tears gathering in his eyes as Dick drifted off for real.

“I love you too,” he whispered, swiping aggressively at the tears now running freely down his face, and leaning closer to brush Dick’s hair away from his forehead.

He kicked what sounded like a glass bottle as he did, and he didn’t think anything of it as he got down on his knees to retrieve whatever he’d kicked under the bed.

And oh, how he wished he hadn’t looked.

----

Jason stared down in shock at the mostly empty bottle of vodka he now held in his shaking hands. While a single bottle of alcohol wouldn’t normally be cause for alarm, there was a whole host of pieces he’d been trying to ignore, and they were falling quickly into place, painting a picture that left Jason feeling sick to his stomach. 

Bottles strewn about and Dick nearly blackout drunk on his couch.

Dick stumbling in to the alley and promptly throwing up because he’d drank too much.

The shaking hands, irritability, and nausea after Jason brought Dick home from the hospital.

Swaying, too fluid movements too early in the morning and a mood that had Dick teasing and joking like he had back before everything.

Jason hadn’t just caught Dick on a few bad nights like Dick had claimed. Unless they were gonna use the excuse that every night was a bad night. It very well might be the case, but that didn’t change that fact that Dick probably had a serious problem. One bad enough that he’d likely gone into withdrawal while in the hospital. Fucking withdrawal because he couldn’t drink for those 3 days. And Jason had promised he’d stay and help Dick, but he wasn’t so sure he could help with this. He was simultaneously the least and most prepared for this. He knew what it was like to deal with alcoholics. He just wasn’t sure he could go through it again. 

Screaming and shouting.

Beer bottles shattering violently against stained walls.

Jason, hiding in the cupboard and hoping desperately that no one would find him. That he wouldn’t be hurt this time around.

No. 

Jason shook his head as if trying to expel the thought entirely. Dick was nothing like Him.

But you don’t really know him, do you? A treacherous voice whispered back. You’ve changed for the worse; who’s to say Dick hasn’t done the same? You. Don’t. Know him.

NO! Jason refused to let the trauma of his childhood overshadow everything else Jason did know about Dick. This was Dick, dammit. The first Robin. The Golden Boy. The man who was almost Jason’s brother towards the end. 

Again, he thought back to the alley. A conversation that Dick had maybe forgotten or maybe hadn’t meant, but one that Jason couldn’t stop thinking about.

“Dick,” Jason said again. And saw a few more cracks form in the mask. “I don’t think you’re okay.”

Dick blew out a shuddering breath and pasted on his signature smile. Had it always looked so fake?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He gently pulled his hand away, closing himself off a bit more, “You just caught me on an off night, is all.”

Jason stared up at him before moving to stand himself. Dick wasn’t ready. Jason knew from experience that you can’t help people when they don’t want to be helped.

“Okay.” He said simply.

Dick look startled. “Okay? Just like that?”

Jason shrugged. “Just like that. But, Dick, if you’re ever not okay, reach out, okay?”

Dick still looked at little stunned as he said, “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” And Jason didn’t know if he would, but at least he’d tried.

A part of him had known even then what was going on with Dick. He hadn’t wanted to see it, but it was there regardless. You can’t fix someone’s problems for them, but you can be there as support. 

“This doesn’t fix us, you know,” Jason said, even though he so badly wished that it did.

He got a sad smile in return. “Yeah, I know,” Dick hesitated for a moment, “Could we try though? To fix things, I mean?”

Jason wanted that so so badly. “I’m not giving up my guns. Bruce isn’t infallible, and I think we’re always gonna disagree on a lot of things.”

There was something dark and mournful behind Dick’s laugh, “I don’t follow Bruce blindly, Jason. I just want you back. And if that means with guns, then I’ll take you with guns.”

And god how Jason wanted to believe that, but Dick would have to mean it sober, and Jason was afraid to ask if he did.

Dick was flawed, but there was something there, and Jason wanted Dick to be his brother more than almost anything. He wasn’t a little kid hiding from his abusive dad anymore. He was an adult (ignoring the fact that he’s technically still a teenager because he can be both), and he’d promised to help Dick. Alcoholism isn’t a moral failing, it isn’t synonymous with being an abusive piece of shit. It’s a symptom of a deeper problem, and Jason already has some idea of what the festering wounds are. Unfortunately, alcohol doesn’t clean emotional wounds the same way it does physical ones. 

He slowly rose back to standing and stared forlornly at the sleep-slack face of his older brother. There wasn’t anything he could do tonight, but he resolved to talk to Dick tomorrow. 

He let out a shaky breath. God, he was stressed and aching for a smoke. It was more a habit than an addiction, but he knew he tended to reach for cigarettes when stressed, and, consequently, he’d be smoking a bit more the past several days, but the revelation of what was going on with Dick made him cringe away from the thought of being even slightly dependent on cigarettes, but he also wasn’t too keen on the idea of dealing with everything without the relief they gave, the way they calmed his anxieties and cooled his anger. Ever since coming back, his temper had burned hotter than ever, and so many people had faced the consequences of that. He didn’t want to blow up on Dick when their relationship was so tentative, so he resolved to try to cut back, but ultimately focus on just helping Dick. 

This wouldn’t be easy, but, if Dick was willing, then they could do it. Jason would be there for Dick if he let him. 

They could do it. Together. 

----

Jason had hardly slept. He moved the vodka to the kitchen, not having the energy to do anything else with it, and made some overnight oats, adding chia and flax seeds, and getting some berries ready to be added in the morning. There. Easy, tasty, and nutrient-dense. 

Careful to not wake Dick, Jason snuck back into the bedroom and oh so carefully checked to make sure that there wasn’t any sign of infection or any other problems with Dick’s stitches. He contemplated shifting Dick to check his back, but eventually decided that he’d just have to trust that the back was probably fine since the front was (not the safest logic, but he also really didn’t want to wake Dick). He was exhausted but not willing to leave, so he pulled a chair up next to Dick’s bed and watched him late into the night. He even woke Dick up after 4 hours to give him another dose of acetaminophen. It was in between that dose and Dick’s next that Jason managed to get some sleep.

Jason woke to his alarm buzzing on his lap and a crick in his neck from sleeping in a chair. He hadn’t really meant to fall asleep, so he went from sleeping to awake with a jolt of panic. But Dick hadn’t moved, was still laying on his back with his arm propped up by a pillow and his face relaxed minus the tiny pinch between his eyebrows.

Jason grabbed the cup he’d left on the nightstand and refilled it in the kitchen. When he returned, he set the cup back down, then shook out two pills and dropped them into a tiny disposable cup, just like Alfred had taught all of them, to make them easier to take. He set it down next to the water and got ready to wake Dick.

The room was dark, but he could see Dick clear enough in the shadows. His head had lulled to the right and was facing Jason, so he leaned over and brushed Dick’s hair out of his face before removing his hand and whispering quietly in hopes of waking him gently.

“Dick,” he whispered, “Time to wake up.”

Dick stirred but didn’t wake, so he tried again just a little louder, “Dick.”

Dick’s face scrunched up in a way that Jason secretly thought was absolutely adorable and entirely blackmail worthy. But he decided to be nice and didn’t take a picture.

“Dick,” he softly prompted again, “You gotta wake up for just a sec.”

Dick made a small, mournful sound but shifted and took a deep breath.

“Jay?” he mumbled, blinking rapidly until he was squinting up at Jason.

Jason rewarded him with a gentle smile, “Hey there. Can I help you sit up? It’s time to take some meds.” 

“M’tireddd,” Dick whined as his eyes fell closed.

“Hey, hey. Dick,” Jason insisted. “You can go back to sleep in just a minute, but you’re gonna be in a lot of pain if you don’t take something.”

Dick lulled his head to the side and whined into the pillow, “Don’t care. Wanna sleep.”

“I know. I promise you can go back to sleep, but I need you to sit up.” Jason took a shuddering breath, “Can you do that for me, Dickie?”

Dick moved his head just enough to glare up at Jason. “Mean,” he declared, but he sighed heavily and conceded, “Fine. Help me up.” He lifted his right arm out to the side like Jason had prompted him to do a few hours ago. Jason leaned in and held onto Dick, careful to not jostle his injury. It bent Jason in an awkward position, but it stopped him from having to grab Dick’s bad shoulder, so it would have to do. 

“Tuck your feet, Dickie,” he reminded. Dick grumbled but did as commanded. “Now push through your feet, same as before,” Jason grunted as he took most of Dick’s weight and Dick hissed a little as they moved to sitting, but it went without incident and Dick was soon leaning back against the headboard. 

Dick had squeezed his eyes shut, but he blinked them back open and squinted at Jason as he handed over the water.

“Take a sip, then I’ll trade you for the meds. Take them, then I’ll give you the water back, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dick rasped, gratefully accepting the water to soothe his dry throat. 

Dick held the cup out after a few small sips and Jason took it back before handing over the little cup. Dick leaned his head back and tilted the contents into his mouth before reaching out and taking the water back to swallow them down before they could start dissolving and fill his mouth with horrible bitterness.

Dick went to hand the cup back, still half full, but Jason shook his head. “Drink the rest of it, then you can go back to sleep.” 

Dick pouted a little. “You could always add something to make it taste better,” he prompted mischeviously, and Jason paled at the implication before realizing that Dick probably just meant something benign like MiO flavoring.

“Just drink the water,” Jason said, trying to calm his panic. Dick grumbled, but did as told and was soon being helped back down.

Jason settled back in the chair he’d pulled up next to the bed and saw that Dick had turned his head to look at Jason. Concern spiked in Jason as he studied Dick, trying to figure out what was wrong. And he was just about to ask when Dick swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said softly, staring intently into Jason’s eyes.

Jason sighed quietly, “Don’t worry about it.” Dick’s expression flashed to a frown before smoothing back to a tired neutral. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you again in a few hours.”

Dick looked like he wanted to argue, but his blinks were growing slower and heavier, so he hummed and settled further into the bed. 

“Kay, g’night, Jay.”

“‘Night,” Jason replied. He waited until Dick’s breathing steadied to the slow pace of sleep before heading to take a shower. His “shower” (read: freakout) yesterday hadn’t been all that effective at cleaning him after all.

He took his time, letting the hot water wash some of the tension from his muscles as he washed his hair and body. After shutting off the water, he grabbed some curl cream and bent over to scrunch it into his hair and squeeze out some extra water before stepping out of the shower and toweling off his body. He wrapped the towel around his waist while he brushed his teeth and ran through his skincare routine (again, technical teenager), then changed into the soft tshirt and joggers that he’d brought into the bathroom with him. 

After moving to the Manor, Jason had revelled in the ability to shower whenever he wanted. Get clean whenever he wanted. Then Bruce had introduced him to self-care products, and Alfred had introduced him to the therapeutic effect of routines. Part of Jason had cringed at the seeming waste of resources, but it was a process that Jason genuinely enjoyed and took comfort in, so he continued. Obviously, Jason did just fine getting down and dirty; he hadn’t been raised with a silver spoon or soft baby hands, but he’d always taken care of himself where he could; it had simply evolved as his circumstances changed.

Eventually, Jason made his way out to the kitchen, taking the opportunity to check in with his lieutenants to ensure that things weren’t falling apart in his absence, then set about making some tea for himself. Dick may be a heathen in many ways, but at least he had quality tea and an electric tea kettle. Thankfully, he hadn’t been too far from redemption for Alfred’s influence in that department. 

He settled down to get some work done while he waited for Dick to wake up, and that was how Dick found him two hours later: sitting at the counter, now with his laptop, and sipping at a cup of what was now green tea with honey and lemon juice. 

Jason was an expert in zombie sounds (Ha! He was hilarious), so he knew the sound when he heard shuffling behind him. Spinning on the stool to watch a groggy Dick as he zombie-walked in to the room, Jason took the opportunity to give the older man a once over. He looked half asleep still, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, and moving a little clumsily, but overall fine. 

Dick had made it halfway through the main room before he noticed Jason.

He stopped cold in his tracks and stared at Jason in surprise, “Jay?” he asked.

Jason raised a judgmental eyebrow in response.

After several more moments of wide-eyed staring, Dick seemed to reboot and come back online. He blinked and shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asked, evidently having switched to worried big brother mode with the reboot. 

Jason took a slow sip of his tea. “Mhm,” he brushed off.

“Did you get enough?” Dick shot back.

Jason hummed, not willing to lie to Dick’s face but equally resistant to giving Dick any fuel for his burning guilt complex. 

Dick looked ready to push the questioning further, but instead sighed and came to sit down next to Jason. 

Jason spun back towards the counter and continued working on maintaining his efforts in Crime Alley. He didn’t bother to hide the screen from Dick or change tasks, testing out his past insistence that he wanted Jason back with or without guns. Jason noticed the moment Dick saw what he was working on, but Dick didn’t say anything and didn’t try to intervene. Eventually, Jason got so distracted with thinking about that conversation that he couldn’t focus on testing the bounds of Dick’s supposed acceptance of Jason as he is.

“How much do you remember from that night in the alley?” he asked suddenly, closing his laptop and turning to face Dick, who froze like a deer in the headlights. 

That’s something Jason had noticed: even when Dick was sitting quiet and still, he was still in constant motion whether that be a bouncing leg or fidgeting fingers, he very rarely held truly still. He was still now.

“I-- uhh.” Dick glanced around the room as if something would give him the answer, “I’m not sure,” he finally admitted. “Bits and pieces, I guess.”

Jason nodded to himself, trying to file away that information while not giving anything away. He wanted the things Dick had said that night and last night to be true. That he missed Jason, he loved Jason. But he’d only ever said things like that while drunk, and he apparently sometimes hallucinated Jason on top of that, so he really couldn’t know how those declarations applied to sober Dick. 

“ What do you remember?” Jason said carefully.

Dick shifted and started absently picking at a snag in his sweatpants. “I.” Dick glanced at him and looked away just as quickly. His gaze settled on the window where the growing morning light was still in the process of waking the world outside. Dick sighed heavily, “I remember being drunk,” his gaze flitted back to Jason for a split second. “Really drunk. And I remember throwing up and hearing your voice.” Dick hesitated. “I remember thinking you were a hallucination,” he admitted quietly, then lapsed into silence, staring out the window.

Neither spoke for a while, each lost in their thoughts. Eventually, Jason broke the silence.

“I remember you stumbling and me catching you,” he said softly. Dick blinked several times, frowning as he withdrew from his reverie. He let out a shaky breath as Jason continued. “I expected you to pull away immediately, but you clung to me instead. It felt like you’d fall apart if I let go.” 

Jason paused and tried to look at Dick who eventually met Jason’s intent teal eyes with his own watery gaze. “So I didn’t let go. You were shaking and checked out in a way alcohol alone doesn’t do, but you asked me not to let go, so I didn’t. There wasn’t anything that would’ve made me pull away first.”

Dick looked away, blinking rapidly against his tears. 

“I know you remember me telling you to call me if you ever weren’t okay.” A tear tracked down Dick’s face. “I told you that I didn’t think you were okay, and you denied it, but I don’t think either of us believed you.”

Dick let out a wet laugh and scrubbed at the tears. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I don’t think I’m okay either.” 

Dick curled in on himself as he came to terms with what he’d admitted and Jason wanted nothing more than to pull him into a hug, but he didn’t know if it would be welcome so he hesitated.

Finally, he asked, “Can I hug you, Dick?” 

Dick choked on a sob. “Please,” he begged, so Jason quickly stood up and gathered Dick gently into his arms. He was careful not to press Dick’s arm between their bodies, but he held on just at tight as Dick while the man shook apart in his arms just like he had back in the alley. 

Dick whispered something, but Jason didn’t catch it. “What?” he asked.

“I missed you,” Dick repeated, “I said I missed you and you said you missed me too.”

Jason squeezed tighter for just a second, getting choked up himself. “Yeah, Dickie. I missed you.”

Dick laughed wetly, “I almost thought I’d hallucinated it,” he admitted.

Jason laughed too. “We’re gonna have to talk about that at some point; you know, right?”

Dick held tighter as if afraid Jason would pull away, “I know. But not now?”

“Okay, we’ll talk later.” Jason could feel Dick’s grip slackening and he moved his hand to massage the base of Dick’s skull before moving to run his fingers through his hair. 

Dick hummed in satisfaction, leaning into the touch. 

“You’re like a cat,” Jason teased.

Dick hid his face further against Jason’s chest. “And you’re like a kicked puppy,” he grumbled.

Jason laughed in surprise, “I’m what?”

Dick pulled away just enough to fix Jason with an intense stare. “A kicked. Puppy,” he insisted.

Jason quirked an eyebrow and Dick went back to pressing carefully against Jason, though it felt significantly less desperate now. 

“How?” Jason asked, exasperated.

Dick pulls away again with an unimpressed look giving Jason a pointed once over. In response, Jason aggressively tossled Dick’s hair while the older gave an indignant squawk, pulling away in the process.

Jason grinned at Dick’s glare and stood up. “Time for breakfast, Dickhead. I made overnight oats.”

Dick eyed him suspiciously, “Do you have raspberries?” he asked. Jason rolled his eyes.

“Raspberries, strawberries, blackberries, and blueberries. And bananas. Seriously, what do you take me for?”

Dick shrugged and muttered, “A mother hen apparently.”

Jason scoffed at the comment, “I’m gonna choose to ignore that comment, dick .”

“Oooo, lowercase dick, how original,” came the sarcastic reply. “Bring over the honey, would’ja?”

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s your gourmet feast, my king.”

“It’s literally oatmeal.”

“I slaved away all night!”

“You dumped stuff in a jar, cut up some fruit, and stuck it in the fridge.”

“Hours of preparation!”

“Just gimme the food, would’ja?”

Jason set the jars down on the counter, grabbed the fruit, then honey, and flicked Dick’s head on his way back to his seat.”

“Hey!!” Dick yelped, rubbing at the egregious injury. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “Eat your food, princess.”

“Eat your food, princess, ” he mocked, “Can’t. Someone screwed the lid on too tight.” Dick pointedly held the jar out to Jason.

“Oh shit. Sorry.” Jason said sheepishly, quickly unscrewing Dick’s jar and handing it back before opening his own. Then with a sarcastic follow-up so Dick wouldn’t have the chance to spiral about needing help, he asked, “Do you need help eating too?”

“Ha, ha, make fun of the injured guy.” Dick rolled his eyes, but they were both grinning lightly. Still, Jason popped the lid on the honey and held the containers still while Dick dished out fruit. In return, Dick held the bowls for Jason while he served himself even after Jason tried to smack his hand away. He just grinned cheekily and held on tighter.

Dick hummed happily after his first bite. “Thanks, Jay, this is really good.”

“‘Course,” Jason brushed off, taking a bite of his own breakfast. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Jason piped up and said, “You’re lucky I didn’t try to sneak any vegetables in.”

“Vegetables?? In oatmeal?!” Dick nearly screeched in his horror.

Jason laughed at Dick’s perturbed expression, “Llike some spinach or something dumbass, I’m not talking about roasted potatoes or some shit.”

“Oh,” Dick laughed, relieved. “Well, I like it as is.”

“I know,” Jason snorted, then smugly adding, “That’s why I didn’t add anything, and why I’m the best.”

Dick looked almost overcome with the urge to fling a spoonful of oats at Jason, but his Bat-trained, ironclad restraint must’ve held him back. “And so humble too,” he muttered instead.

“Yup!” Jason grinned cheekily, before moving on to a new topic. “So you got any plans for today?”

Dick hummed, “I don’know. Not a whole lot I can do with my arm in a sling.”

Jason snorted. “You’re telling me that the Great Dick Grayson, the man who, on multiple occasions, has walked on his hands when he had a broken leg, is gonna be sidelined because of some restrictive fabric?”

Dick stirred the last of his oats around in the jar. “Guess not. M’just kinda tired though. Sorry, Jay.”

“Hey, that’s okay too,” Jason reassured. “How about you go shower while I clean up breakfast, and then we turn on a show or something.”

“Yeah, that works.” Dick agreed, albeit unenthusiastically. 

It honestly concerned Jason how quickly Dick went from joking to despondant, but he wasn’t here because Dick’s problem was shitting unicorns and rainbows. Jason shuddered internally. Eugh, that was a gross thought. Why did he think that thought?

Regardless, Jason was here because Dick was struggling and Jason wanted to help.

“Sounds good,” he said, “Do you need help with anything or do you got it?”

Dick sighed, “Maybe help with the sling and such?” he asked.

“For sure,” Jason agreed easily, “Go start getting ready while I put away the fruit and shit and I’ll meet you in the bathroom in a few minutes, okay?” 

Dick pushed away from the counter and stood avoiding Jason’s eyes, “Sounds good.” He started walking off, but Jason stopped him.

“Hey, Dick?” Dick turned around a question on his face. “I asked to help because I want to. You’re not a burden, okay?”

Dick gave him a small, tired smile. “Thanks, Li- Jason.” He turned and headed down the hall.

Jason quickly cleaned up and headed to the bathroom to help Dick with some waterproof coverings. When he got there, he saw Dick sitting on the toilet, fulling dressed, and staring through the wall. He waited a second for Dick to notice him, then rapped gently on the doorframe when he didn’t. 

Dick startled slightly, coming back to the present, and looking over at the source of the noise after a moment. “Oh, hi Jason,” he said.

“Hi,” Jason replied, forcing down his concern. “You ready?”

Dick gave a one shoulder shrug and hummed, “Guess so.”

Dick didn’t make any move to stand or strip so Jason took the initiative of grabbing the first aid kit from under the sink and riffling through it until he found some waterproof covering that would do the job. “How you wanna do this, Bigbird?”

Dick didn’t startle this time, but Jason could see Dick have to drag his gaze back to the present.

He gave a shaky sigh, “Don’know. Gonna hurt no matter what.”

Jason grimaced sympathetically, “Yeah, I’d offer you something, but you’re not due another dose for a couple more hours.” Now Jason drew a shaky breath, “Do you- Are you hurting enough that you need me to run to the pharmacy to pick you up the prescription meds?”

“No.” Dick cut firmly almost before Jason finished talking. His gaze was intense as he stared at Jason, who was suddenly reminded again of that night in the alley. He’d asked Dick if he was on drugs and he adamantly denied it, emphasizing that he’d never do drugs. It made Jason wonder where Dick’s aversion came from. Jason knew why he didn’t like anything stronger than over-the-counter shit, but Dick? It couldn’t just be because of Jason’s history, could it?

“Okay,” he soothed, “That works for me. Just lemme know if it does get too bad, okay? At the very least, we can take a break.”

Dick gave a shaky nod and loosely waved Jason over. “Could you maybe just undo the strap? I’d rather keep moving it to a minimum.”

“For sure,” Jason reassured. He carefully undid the strap, sliding it off of Dick’s neck then pulling the sling down from Dick’s elbow before pulling it from his wrist. He tried to be careful, but it jostled the arm a little and Dick almost immediately tucked his right forearm under his left to help take the weight off his shoulder once Jason was done removing the sling. He had a pained pinch around his eyes, but the rest of his expression held determination to get this done, so Jason didn’t ask if he needed to stop. He’d do Dick the courtesy of trusting him to know his limits. Jason wasn’t so sure he did, but Dick deserved his trust unless he proved that he didn’t.

“Shirt next. How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Dick grunted. “Want this to be over.”

“I’ll try to make it quick.” Dick had to move his arms out from his body just a little, but Jason scrunched the shirt up closer to Dick’s armpits, and, after Dick let go of his other arm, manuevered the right arm out of the shirt and then got the shirt off his neck so that only his bad arm was left. Dick wordlessly let his arm fall straight, wincing as he did and Jason gently tugged the shirt the rest of the way off. 

“All done,” Jason declared and Dick immediately returned to supporting his arm. It concerned Jason, Dick’s actions were indicative of him being in a lot more pain than he was admitting to. But, he’d refused the prescription meds (and thank goodness for that; Jason wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to handle that, especially knowing what he now did about Dick’s alcohol habits) and he certainly wasn’t as bad as he’d been without any meds in his system, so it would have to do. 

Jason let Dick go back to staring, listening to his slow, steady breathing, as he carefully checked the coverings. He’d have to check them out again after the shower to make sure everything was still dandy, but the stitches were still protected for now. 

He crouched down in front of Dick and waited until Dick’s gaze slowly shifted to focus on Jason. He blinked a couple of times and his mouth twitched in a little frown, but he didn’t say anything. 

“You need help with anything else?” Jason asked. “Don’t be macho, yeah?”

Dick huffed a little laugh. “I’ll be fine. I wanna do this myself, but I’ll leave the door unlocked incase you need to save my pretty ass.” He said it quietly, but Jason gave him a long look in the eyes, earning a small smile, and he decided to leave well enough alone.

“Just shout if ya need me, okay?”

“Okay, thanks, Jay.”

“Anytime.”

Jason patted Dick on the knee and stood before making his way out of the bathroom, closing the door but leaving it unlocked. 

Time to go do dishes and maybe get started on lunch. And totally not worry incessantly about Dick.

----

----

----

DICK’S POV

Jason closed the door behind him and Dick let out a shaky breath. His shoulder was throbbing and he knew he kept zoning out, leaving the present (because the present fucking sucked), but he didn’t know what to do about it. Well, he knew something he could do about it, but Jason was out and about in the apartment, so it wasn’t really a viable option at the moment.

With a sigh, he forced himself to stand and turn on the shower. While he waited for the water to heat up, he carefully shimmied out of his bottoms. For some reason, he thought of the scene from Annie where Miss Hannigan was bemoaning the little girls and drinking out of the bottles surrounding her bath. He’d been confused as a child, but he got it now. Part of him got it way more than he was comfortable with acknowledging.

He blinked back to the present and realized the entire room was filled with steam. How long had he been thinking about secretive Prohibition Era alcohol consumption?? Based on how steamy the room was, long enough that future him was going to hate how expensive the water bill will be, probably.

Oh well, nothing to be done about that now. He reached his hand into the shower to feel the water temperature, adjusted it down just a tiny bit, and climbed in after another moment. Dick had gained plenty of practice showering one-handed over the years, so it wasn’t physically a struggle, but, lately, everything was a mental struggle, and showering was no different. As the hot water cascaded over him, Dick mechanically went through the motions of washing his hair and body. 

He found himself humming the song from Annie. Switching to singing it under his breath, “...I'd have cracked years ago. If it weren't for my. Sense of …..humor...”, he rinsed out his hair, running his fingers through to make sure all the conditioner got out, going back to humming as he did. Dick switched the water to cold and turned to let it run over his face for a few seconds before shutting it off and climbing out of the shower. “Some day I'll land in the nut house. With all the nuts and the squirrels. There I'll stay. tucked away. Until the prohibition of…”

Jason banged on the door. “Yo, Dickhead, you doin’ okay in there? S’been almost an hour.”

An hour?? Dick thought with shock.

“Dick?” Jason called again, sounding worried now. Right, Dick hadn’t answered yet. That was something he needed to do.

“Uh, y-yeah,” he called back. “I’m good! Must’ve just lost track of time.” There was a soft thud against the door.

“Okay, take your time,” came the reply, Jason’s voice no longer raised in concern. “Just…” he trailed off. “Come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

“‘Course!” Dick reassured through the door. 

“Sounds good.” There was another quiet knock against the door, then footsteps walking away. 

Dick let out a shaky breath, looking at himself through the foggy mirror. A blurry specter stared back at him. Not wanting to look at whoever that was any longer, Dick turned to grab his towel and dry off. And if he pointedly ignored the way his hand was beginning to shake worse? Then nobody had to know.

It was fine. 

All of this was fine. 

God, how he wanted a drink right now--wanted to just escape from the pain, the humiliation--just, everything. It was all too much, but Jason was awake, and Dick couldn’t risk grabbing anything from the kitchen. 

Then again…

Was that bottle of vodka still in his room? He couldn’t remember if he’d finished it off or not. 

The temptation to look pulled at him, beckoning whispers calling to him from his bedroom. He couldn’t get drunk. Not if he didn’t want Jason to worry even more.

But just checking wouldn’t hurt, right? He didn’t have to drink anything right now, but it’d be nice to know his options so he could time his meds properly, no need to double down on the liver damage after all. 

Yeah, nothing wrong with checking.

Dick glanced back up at the mirror, the dull eyes staring back at him still felt foreign and wrong. He quickly looked away and grabbed the fresh pair of boxer briefs and sweatpants he’d brought in with him. It took some fanagling and some quiet cursing, but he managed to successfully dress his lower body.

Dick took one look at the loose T-shirt on the counter, the sling laying next to it, and decided he’d rather deal with the embarrassment of asking for Jason’s help again than deal with the agony of getting dressed alone just for the sake of his ego. 

With a sigh, Dick pulled open then door, then grabbed his shirt and sling, and headed to his bedroom to look for... things.

----

It wasn’t there. The bottle wasn’t there. He could’ve sworn he’d have left it in his room even if it was empty. Why risk Jason seeing the incriminating glass? But, in his quick but thorough search, Dick couldn’t find it anywhere. He did find a 6 pack of really shitty beer. It was missing one bottle, but he may as well have come up empty-handed (there was a reason it was hidden under his bed and not even given the grace of refrigeration). With a frustrated huff, Dick climbed back to his feet and grabbed his shirt and sling from where he’d tossed them on the bed. Jason would worry if Dick took much longer, so, with one last scan of the room, Dick headed back out the main area and his little brother.

(As much as everything sucked, his chest bloomed with warmth at the thought of being able to call Jason that, even if he wouldn’t necessarily get away with saying it out loud just yet.)

----

----

----

BACK TO JASON’S POV

The dishes didn’t take very long, and Jason had already stress cleaned the entire apartment, so he was left standing in the middle of the kitchen, wondering what to do. They’d just eaten breakfast and weren’t burning a ton of extra calories from nightly vigilante activities, so lunch wouldn’t need to happen for another four or so hours. But maybe he could make something with lots of rest time? Give himself something to do now, but not something that would still be occupying his time once Dick was back out here. He started mentally cataloging what he could do with the ingredients he currently had on hand. He figured Dick could do with something warm and hearty so maybe Senate Bean Soup would be a good idea. Plus, the beans would need several hours to soak, which would be perfect.

Mind made up, Jason went about gathering his ingredients. First, he measured out a pound of dried navy beans, then rinsed and sorted through them, tossing out any rocks and cracked or discolored beans. Then he got out a big pot (he was very familiar with Dick’s kitchen now that he’d obsessively cleaned and organized the entire thing) and poured in twelve cups of water before adding the beans and turning on the heat. While he waited for it to boil, Jason grabbed the onion and celery from the fridge, chopping them and putting them in a bowl, which he then covered with plastic wrap and stuck back in the fridge. 

Checking on his beans, he saw that it was just starting to boil, so he reduced it to a simmer and let it go for about two minutes before cutting the heat. Now to let it rest for two hours to soften the beans. If he’d thought of this the night before, he could’ve skipped the heating and just let it soak overnight, which would remove more of the oligosaccharides (the main thing that causes bloating and discomfort when eating beans), but speed soaking worked in a pinch since the main goal was to the soften the beans. 

Jason set a timer on his phone, tossing it on the counter and leaning against it. It’d apparently only been 20 minutes and Dick took long showers on a good day. With the way he kept zoning out and the limited use of his arm, he’d be at least another 20 minutes. 

Jason gave a heavy sigh and scrubbed a hand down his face before grabbing his phone and pushing off the counter. Wandering into the main room, he headed to the couch and let himself drop down into the cushions. Maybe now would be a good time to look into helping Dick with his frankly alarming frequency of dissociative episodes? Bruce, despite being an absolute bastard, had taught them all basic grounding techniques, but Dick’s issue went beyond what Jason felt he could help with. Scrubbing down his face, he pushed off the couch and headed to the fire escape for a quick smoke while he thought and researched.

Dick’s dissociation clearly wasn’t intentional, but Jason had accidentally startled Dick back to the present enough times over the last few days, to know that it needed to be addressed. 

In all honesty, Dick almost seemed more relaxed when he wasn’t fully present, his stare was blank but his expression was relaxed rather than tired and world-weary. And absolutely not to put blame on the man, but it didn’t really seem like Dick was doing anything to curb the episodes. From Dick’s perspective, it was probably a lot easier to get through the days this way. The distance from reality was a large reason for dissociation to develop as a maladaptive coping mechanism. Pulling out his phone, he got to searching.

Some thirty-odd minutes later, Jason felt like he had at least a semi-solid grasp on what he was dealing with. He’d migrated back to the couch at some point and was now mentally reviewing what he’d learned. Apparently, there was a non-pathological type of dissociation known as absorption, where you get so engrossed in your thoughts or a task that you stop really being aware of what’s going on around you. It’s also a common form of dissociation for when those with dissociative identity disorder where switching who was fronting (who was in charge basically), but that was a tangent. 

Jason had definitely experienced absorption before and he’d been concerned at first that it might be another example of just how fucked up his brain is, but it turns out that it’s pretty common and isn’t usually an issue. In Dick’s case, however, it seemed like he was likely experiencing something like clinically significant absorption, if not also derealization and/or depersonalization--Jason couldn’t determine that from just observing, afterall--since his despondancy was so frequent and negatively impacting his life and ability to function.

Luckily, in addition to learning more about dissociative subtypes (and that it’s definitively called dissociation and not disassociation in psychological/psychiatric contexts), Jason also learned about some ways to help. He already knew the standard 5-4-3-2-1 sensory re-engagement technique, as well as holding ice cubes or splashing cold water on your face for physical grounding, but it was really helpful to learn other personal and assisted techniques to help. He learned more about mental redirection, reality anchoring, and how to re-establish body awareness, and, most helpfully, he learned what he could do to help gently bring Dick back to the present if he was deep in an absorption state. Now it was just a matter of if it would work for Dick specifically or not. 

And speaking of the man, now that Jason was thinking about it, it had definitely been close to an hour and he hadn’t heard Dick leave the bathroom yet. It wasn’t a cause for huge concern, since Dick did tend to take ridiculously long showers, but it wouldn’t hurt to check in and make sure he was doing okay. With that in mind, Jason hauled himself to his feet and headed down the hall. 

Reaching the door, Jason listened for a second. The water wasn’t running, and he could hear quiet sounds from inside, which was promising, but he’d come this far. He banged lightly on the door. “Yo, Dickhead, you doin’ okay in there? S’been almost an hour.”

No response. 

“Dick?” Jason called again, louder in his worry. The room was totally quiet now, and Jason was just about to open the door, glad he’d left the door unlocked in case something happened (exactly like what he was hoping wasn’t happening right now).

“Uh, y-yeah,” Dick finally called back. “I’m good! Must’ve just lost track of time.” Jason let his head knock against the door with relief at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“Okay, take your time,” he called back, voice no longer raised in concern. “Just…” he trailed off. Should he say something more? Should he leave it be? “...Come out when you’re ready, yeah?”

“‘Course!” Dick reassured through the door. 

Jason almost scoffed at how unconvincing Dick sounded. “Sounds good,” he said anyway, gently knocking his still-raised fist against the door one last time before forcing himself to walk back to the main room. 

The timer on his phone helpfully declared that there was about another hour before he could do anything more with the soup. Maybe he could make rolls or something? But no, he’d bought sourdough bread and Dick probably wouldn’t be too much longer, meaning that Jason didn’t want to be busy with an involved task right now. 

With a sigh, he dropped onto the couch, lying down and spreading out. God, he was so tired. He’d gotten, what, like 3 hours of sleep last night? Sure, he was a crime lord-vigilante-crazy person, but he also tried to get at least 6-7 hours of sleep at night. Sleep deprivation was both a known torture technique and shaved literal years off of people’s lives. Not to mention significantly increasing dementia risk, and, as stated earlier, he was plenty crazy as is. Plus, he’d done the whole being dead thing and wasn’t too eager to repeat it. So, yeah, adequate sleep was usually a priority for him, especially because he didn’t usually have daytime responsibilities to juggle. But, he did right now, and while he’d make the same decision to watch over Dick over and over again, his sleep was definitely suffering for it. 

Somewhere in the middle of his mournful pondering, he registered the bathroom door opening and quiet feet padding further down the hall, telling Jason that Dick must be heading to his room.

A few minutes later, Dick walked into the main room wearing sweatpants, his shirt and sling hanging loosely in his hand down by his side. He looked worn out and tired, but didn’t appear to be in much pain, which was a relief. It’s the little things, Jason thought to himself. Jason sat up on the couch, but didn’t move to get up. Dick gave him a tired smile and a quiet, “Hey, Jay.” before walking further into the room. 

Jason swallowed and awkwardly watched as Dick came closer. “Uh, hey. Did’ja have a good shower?” Dumb question, but at least it was better than immediately springing a ton of complex and emotionally-fraught questions on the man.

“Yeah, it was fine,” Dick reassured.

Jason glanced down at the sling and shirt in Dick’s hand and back up to his bandaged shoulder.

“You want help with that?” he gestured loosely at Dick and his shoulder, who then gave himself a self-deprecating once-over before nodding and holding the bundle of fabric out to Jason.

“If you would, yeah.”

“‘Course, just sit down and I’ll go grab the med kit.”

Jason grabbed the med kit from atop the fridge and washed his hands before heading back to Dick who was sitting on the right arm of the couch, feet swinging to absently kick against the side. Jason raised an eyebrow at Dick’s choice of seating, but figured it gave him open access to Dick’s shoulder, so there wasn’t any reason to make Dick move. 

Laying the open med kit on the coffee table, he check that Dick was ready while he rifled through the kit in search of saline and some clean cloths to pat everything dry.

“As I’ll ever be,” came the wry response just as Jason found what he needed.

Jason stood up and walked up behind Dick taking in the tension the man was holding across his body. “Sounds good,” he said instead of telling Dick to relax. “How’s it feeling?”

Dick gave a one shoulder shrug. “Aches, but nothing like last night, so t’sokay, I guess.”

Jason hummed in response. “Well, that’s better than feeling worse, I guess,” he acknowledged, earning a small snort. “Am I good to check these bandages now?”

“Yup,” Dick said with a popped “p”. The rhythm he was thumping against the couch wasn’t a steady alternation anymore, now sounding more like a thudding heartbeat, but Dick was keeping his upper body still enough for Jason to work, so he didn’t tell him to stop. 

He checked that there wasn’t any moisture under the covering and that the sides weren’t coming unstuck. There was the tiniest bit of peeling at the edges, so, since he was standing out of Dick’s view, he warned Dick before placing his hands down to carefully smooth over the bandage and flatten the edges. They stuck well enough, so Jason would leave it be for now, though he made a mental note to check again before Dick went to bed. Then he checked the front. Presumably because Dick could see it and there was slightly less movement along there, the front bandage showed very little wear and tear. Still Jason carefully smoothed over it, listening to Dick’s breathing to make sure he didn’t press too hard.

Inspecting the stitches and wounds themselves, they looked dry and secure, and nothing looked overly inflamed or infected. Next, Jason carefully misted some sterile saline and let it sit on Dick’s skin for a few moments before carefully patting it away. Sure, Dick had just showered, but this would help keep the area free of sweat, germs and build-up, especially on the back where Dick wouldn’t be able to reach to clean as easily. 

Dick had stopped kicking his feet at some point and didn’t say anything while Jason went about his inspection. He kept carefully still, his breathing slow and intentional, the entire time. Jason glanced down at him in concern a couple of times, but Dick seemed present, so Jason just quietly narrated his actions and left Dick be.

“Everything looks good,” he said softly when he was done, “You ready to put on your shirt or do you wanna just leave it off?”

Dick glanced up at Jason who was standing in front of up and then quickly looked away. “On, please,” he requested quietly. For someone who used to prance around in glorified hot pants, he sure seemed opposed to being exposed now. It almost seemed like there was something more behind that decision, but now didn’t feel like the time to prod.

“Sounds good,” Jason said as he walked over and grabbed the tshirt from the coffee table, looking at it quizically. “You sure you don’t want a Henley or flannel or something? It’d probably be easier to put on.”

Dick shook his head. “No. I don’t like all the fabric around my elbows, especially with the sling.” 

Jason shrugged. “Fair enough. How do you want to do this, then? Do you want help or do it yourself?”

Dick sighed heavily and dropped carefully off of the arm of the couch before walking to sit on the coffee table. “Could you help, please?”

It didn’t escape Jason’s notice that Dick was intentionally sitting at heights that would be easier for Jason to work with. Higher up for less crouching when Jason was looking at Dick’s shoulder, and now lower, giving Jason more height and leverage to better manipulate the shirt.

“‘Course. You ready?” Dick nodded and took a deep breath. Again, Jason quietly directed Dick and narrated the process. He carefully guided Dick’s injured arm through the tshirt sleeve, trying to move or put pressure on Dick’s shoulder as little as possible. He gently tugged the neck over his head, then pulled Dick’s good arm through the other sleeve before finally smoothing the shirt  down Dick’s body. Dick’s breath hitched slightly a couple of times, but he’d had the foresight to grab a loose and stretchy tshirt, so they managed the whole process relatively easily. Jason gave Dick a moment to breath and let the pain fade a bit, taking the chance to untangle the sling and get it ready to slide on, then helped Dick into it as well.

“You okay?” Jason asked when they were done.

Dick gave a tired laugh and met Jason’s gaze. “Yeah, just sucks how dumb bodies can be.” 

Jason snorted in response, “You’re telling me. C’mon, let’s watch a show or something. You got any requests?”

Dick moved from the coffee table to the right side of the couch while Jason grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. “Is Bob Ross a valid choice?” he asked.

Jason raised an incredulous eyebrow as he walked back to the couch. “You tryna put me to sleep or something?” he teased lightly.

Dick made a face back at him. “Can’t a man just love the arts??”

“A man? Yes. You? I’m not so sure,” Jason shot back.

Dick gasped in mock offense. “You take that back! Bob Ross is for everyone!”

Jason laughed, “That we can agree on. You care what type of scene?” He watched as Dick glanced at the screen registering that Jason had pulled up a list of Bob Ross videos during their bantering. It was amusing to watch as Dick looked quickly between Jason and the tv in surprise and confusion.

“Uhh, I- No? I guess?” Jason laughed again at catching Dick off guard and clicked on a random mountain scene that looked to have plenty of happy little trees.

“Whatever the fuck the video I just clicked on it is then,” he declared, earning an eyeroll as the both settled in to watch a master a work. They watched until Jason’s alarm went off. He left Dick on the couch, Bob Ross still painting, and drained the water before replacing it, adding a ham hock, and leaving the beans to simmer for another 2 hours.

He headed back to the main room, but stopped short for just a second as he took in the sight of Dick. He was chewing on his nails, his skin pale and a little sweaty, and looking anxious. It was a harsh reminder of everything they were dealing with here. They weren’t just two brothers having a movie night. Dick was injured and falling further into alcohol withdrawal, and Jason couldn’t say anything because Dick was so clearly desparate for Jason to not find out. He settled back in, now only half paying attention as he tried to figure out what to say and watching Dick’s anxious fidgeting get progressively worse. It started with fingers tapping against his leg, then moved to his whole leg bouncing. Then he just wouldn’t sit still, shifting every few minutes and glancing at the clock like he was awaiting some horrible, inevitable end. Jason wanted to confront him, to comfort him, to just take everything away and make it all better, but no words would leave his mouth, and his drowsiness caught up to him all too soon.

When Jason woke to his blaring soup alarm, it was to an in-progress lake and an empty couch. He would blame lack of sleep, and abundance of stress, and the soothing dulcet tones of Bob Ross for having fallen asleep and letting Dick escape, but really he was blaming himself. 

Cursing, he rushed through the rest of the soup--cut shit, add shit, stir shit, and leave it to cook for another hour--then headed down the hall to try to check in on Dick. 

He could hear music quietly playing when he knocked on the door. “Yo, Dickhead, you awake in there?”

“Hmm? Jay? Everything okay?” came the slightly delayed response.

“Can I come in?” he begged asked. The music paused and Dick hummed absently.

“Mmm, not now, Jay. ‘M relaxing.” Shit. Jason could guess what “relaxing” meant, and it was exactly what he’d been hoping to avoid. 

“You sure?” he tried again. Normally he wouldn’t push someone asking for privacy, but dammit, Dick was alone and likely drunk in there. Being alone was the last thing he needed right now.

“‘M sure,” Dick replied, “S’okay, Jay. Nothing’s wrong.”

Jason leant his head against the door, fighting burning tears. Everything was wrong, and it was all Jason’s fault. The logical part of him argued that you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped, but what if someone does want help and they just don’t know it’s being offered? If Jason had just figured out what to say, if he’d just been better, then maybe he wouldn’t be standing outside Dick’s locked door while his brother got who knows how fucked up on the other side. 

“Dick, please ,” he begged, losing his battle to not cry. He squeezed his eyes shut and more hot tears skipped down his face. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, causing Jason to stumble as his support was torn away.

“Jay?” Dick asked breathlessly, flushed face twisted in concern and only getting more worried at the sight of a crying Jason.

Without thinking, Jason rushed forward and hugged Dick desperately. Dick staggered back, but didn’t fall. “Don’t,” Jason whispered, feeling like a little kid again. “ Please don’t.”

He was taller than Dick now, but he could hear him swallow heavily from where he clung to his big brother. “Don’t what, Little Wing?” he asked apprehensively.

Jason’s heart ached at the old moniker, the one that belonged to someone else. Someone better. Someone dead. 

“Don’t do this,” he begged. “Let me help. Please .”

Dick pulled away sharply, his hand moving from where it was loosely wrapped around Jason’s back to holding tightly and accusingly, to Jason’s shoulder. Intense eyes scanned over Jason’s face before his expression shattered.

“You know,” he said with horror, pulling away from Jason fully and stumbling backwards. “ Fuck ,” he hissed emphatically. “No. Nononono. You can’t know. No one’s supposed to know.” Dick’s breathing was picking up as he panicked.

“Calm down, Dickie,” Jason tried to soothe, “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”

“No,” Dick’s voice broke, “ Nothing is okay. I- This can’t be happening.” Dick’s heels hit the wall and he slid down it, clutching at his hair while tears pooled in his frantic eyes. 

Jason had followed Dick through the room, stepping closer, hands held in front of him. “You gotta breathe, Dickie. Take a deep breath for me, okay?” Dick’s only response was a choked sob, but then Jason took another step forward and Dick jerked away, hitting his head against the wall. 

“ Stop,” he snarled, tears still falling, before his expression turned furious. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Nothing’s wrong, so just shut up.” Dick clumsily pulled himself to his feet, then demanded, “Get out.”

“Dick, no. I’m not leaving you,” Jason tried desperately.

Dick started stalking toward Jason who reflexively backed away, “I’m not asking, Jay. Get the fuck outta my room.”

“No!” Jason cried back, tears blurring his vision.

Dick shoved him, hard. “Go the fuck away! I don’t want you here!”

Jason’s breath hitched. “Dick, please,” he begged.

“NO!” He shoved Jason again, this time almost getting him through the doorway. “No one asked you to butt in! No one asked you to stay! I sure as hell didn’t, so leave me the fuck alone!!” Jason hit his shoulder as Dick shoved him past the threshold, but he ignored it in favor of blocking the door from closing. “Dick, please.” Dick snarled with fury at Jason’s leaning bulk preventing him from slamming the door shut. 

Where his anger had burned hot just moments earlier, Dick’s words were ice now. “Get out of my apartment or I’m calling Batman.” Jason stopped pushing for just a second, but it was enough and Dick slammed the door shut and locked it. Jason tried to convince himself that Dick didn’t mean it. Addiction makes people desperate. Even if it was hurting them, people protected their addictions fiercely.

But Jason was struggling to separate out the images of Willis, drunk and violent. Yelling and shoving. He couldn’t breathe, his chest wrapped tight with panic. Why couldn't he breathe? Dick had threatened to call Batman. Dick wanted Jason gone. Dick wanted Jason hurt? Beaten up and tossed in Arkham with the rest of the crazies? With Joker? Maybe Dick was right. Jason's ribs ached with phantom blows from a crowbar, his lungs ached, laden with hot smoke.

Dick hadn’t asked him to stay. Sure, he hadn’t told Jason to leave, but maybe Jason had been reading this all wrong. It was hard to think over the ringing in his ears, even the laughing in his head had faded when the bomb went off, when it left him alone with the ringing and the pain. So much pain. All he could feel was pain. His fingers were crushed and swollen, making him up on tying his boots, instead stuffing the laces inside. 

Dick had threatened to call Batman. 

Batman would come, and he wouldn't show Jason any mercy. Shouldn't show Jason any mercy after everything he'd done. Bru- Batman was right when he chose Joker over his son Jason. All Jason did was hurt people. His knee threatened to buckle as he fought to open the door. He deserved the pain. He deserved this, but he didn't want it. 

Jason fled.