What Souls Are Made Of

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/34754284.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Batman - All Media Types
Relationship: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Dick Grayson
Character: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne,
Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Alfred Pennyworth
Additional Tags: Case Fic, Aftermath of Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Non-
Consensual Drug Use, Human Experimentation, Mad Scientists, Hurt
Dick Grayson, Permanent Injury, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder -
PTSD, Recovery, Dick Grayson Whump, Protective Jason Todd, Jason
Todd Needs A Hug, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn, Supernatural
Elements, POV Jason Todd
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2021-10-31 Updated: 2022-10-31 Chapters: 17/? Words:
74401

What Souls Are Made Of

by Nightwing_Mar

Summary

Moments are precious. Sometimes they linger and other times they’re fleeting and yet so
much could be done in them.
You could change a mind. You could save a life. And you could even fall in love.

--

Or that time Jason takes care of Dick and they accidentally create a bond.

Notes

Quote by Cecelia Ahern - How To Fall In Love.

So we have JayDick + slow burn + supernatural powers + bonding + Jay and Dick
protecting each other fiercely because they love each other. That’s it.
 Running Out Of Time
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Some days, Jason could admit to himself that the lengths criminals went to achieve their twisted
goals impressed him.

Not in a good way.

All those carefully crafted plans, the minds behind every master move that succeeded in
outsmarting them. Those were the worst; not the petty criminals, not the mob families who had
been a pain in the ass for generations. No, the worst were those criminals who always seemed to be
one step ahead, those who followed a grand scheme well-planned in advance, and those who had
the motivation or an objective beyond something as banal as money or fame.

Right now, looking at the organization’s facilities that accomplished what very few could: to
deceive the Batman himself, Jason feels the well-known fire burning through his veins. If it
weren’t for the fact that he was currently treading the depths of one of the endless tunnels in the
sewers, the goddamn sewers, Jason could have been fooled to believe this was a high-end facility.

Jason wonders how long they were operating from the shadows—right under their noses the whole
time—slowly building the organization that today had already left a headline that would be long
remembered for their heinous crimes.

But Jason had to put that aside for now, no matter how hard it was.

He had only one mission: find Goldie and drag his stupid ass safe and sound back home.

Not that his mind was cooperating with staying clear, though. Jason blamed the dimly lit corridors
he was trekking, an endless maze of white walls and spotless floors. The dim lighting was messing
with his head, making him see shadows that he knew were not there. But the worst part was the
silence, the disturbing silence with only the metallic sole of his boots scraping against the floor
tiles.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, like a rope tightening tighter and tighter around
his chest the deeper Jason creeps into the building. The feeling that time was running out kept him
in a state of high anxiety. Knowing what had been done here made everything worse. All the lives
that had been mercilessly taken away.

The worst part was that Jason didn’t have a physical target to unleash his anger, that anger that had
only been piling up for months, growing in intensity. The bastards running this place had
abandoned the building long before Jason had set foot in it.

It was safe to assume that they had cameras and motion sensors spread out around the nearby
perimeter. But, leave such a large establishment in such a short time? Burn all evidence of their
existence? Burn the command room to the ground? Bloody hell.

It was so frustrating to find oneself at a dead end. Like back to the beginning, with no clues or
information about their whereabouts. It’s as if they didn’t even exist by this point with the almost
non-existent information Jason possessed about them even after all this time investigating them.
This is what Jason knew for certain.

About six months ago, across the city, abandoned bodies of young boys and girls began to be
dumped in the alleys. At first, it was rumoured that they were homeless kids who had had some
kind of overdose due to the supposed new drugs entering the city. Allegedly, drugs of dubious
origin and cooked in poor conditions.

But Jason wasn’t convinced that the sudden deaths were due to a new drug. After all, Red Hood
had a firm grip on the dealers, and they all knew very well his most important rules: Don’t sell to
kids or teenagers. Stay away from schools. It wasn’t ruled out, some assholes thought themselves
bold enough to try to outsmart Red Hood. He let them try.

No, Jason had had the feeling there was something murkier than the GCPD weren’t sharing.

When Jason managed to get his hands on the confidential autopsy files on the found bodies, it was
clear that important information about the condition of the bodies had been withheld. Yes, the
blood test concluded that there was indeed an unknown substance in the bloodstream of the
victims. But that hadn’t been the only cause of death.

All the bodies presented evidence of having been exposed to an electric charge of different
intensities to the brain. Small electrical burns had been found on both sides of the forehead.
Between the unknown substance in their system and the evidence of electric shocks to the brain, it
was concluded that these were the causes of death. Unfortunately, no samples of that unknown
substance had been obtained yet.

Looking at the photos that were taken at the crime scene, and later at the morgue, Jason began to
spot patterns, connect the dots.

Everything he needed to know about this new player was right before his eyes.

No organs were missing, which ruled out any illegal organ trafficking. No evidence of sexual
assault. Evidence of death by an electric shock could be considered torture, but Jason had had the
feeling that the main goal wasn’t to torture the victim, it had something to do with the unknown
substance, something Jason still couldn’t put his finger on.

His main clue, the one that tied the victims together and made it clear that they had been killed by
the same person/s, was a small black ink tattoo on the right forearm. Numbers. They had been
branded as mere numbers and not as if they were humans of flesh and blood who had dreams and
ambitions that had been cruelly snatched away.

The answers were right there.

Everything pointed to that they were dealing with a human experimentation ring. They shared
similarities with cases that had occurred in the past. Although, they were a little out of the rule.
Why leave the bodies in plain sight and not get rid of them if you wanted to go unnoticed? Was it a
warning? A statement?

Some time passed before more bodies were found, and by then the press and the general population
had already forgotten about the deaths when it was confirmed that the bodies found had been of
homeless kids. No one had lost sleep over them. It wasn’t until reports of average young girls and
boys began to disappear and then appear dead, same modus operandi, that people started paying
more attention to the case.

By then, a wave of bodies had already been found in the streets, all with the same unknown
substance in their blood and evidence of having suffered a fatal electric shock to the brain. And no,
no fingerprints had yet been found at the crime scene, no mistakes, and no witnesses.

They were like fucking ghosts.

Jason had been active on the case, cross-checking information from his contacts on the streets,
when the great and mighty Batman had set foot in Red Hood’s territory. The old man wanted to
have a conversation, but he hadn’t dialled Jason’s number like a normal person, no, of course
fucking not. He had stood like a statue atop the public library building, waiting for Red Hood to
decide to talk to him.

Jason could have left. Wouldn’t be out of character, turn around and not look back. He didn’t. The
Bat at least had the decency to leave the decision in Jason’s hands. It was up to him, cross the
imaginary bridge between them. I mean, Jason was now included in the comm line and he reported
his status sporadically. He had even shared data with Tim at some point and perhaps he had even
agreed to be on the same case with Batman and Robin. Hell, he and Goldie had worked together
more often in the past year.

(Jason could cross that bridge with his old life when it came to protecting the city. When their suits
were in the way. But more? Family dinners, game nights at the manor, Jason still wasn’t
comfortable enough with those. It was hard to even set foot in the manor some days.)

The point is, Batman had suggested that they should work together on the case, and although Jason
had hesitated at first, there was no way he would put his pride and complicated feelings first before
putting an end to the killers of innocent young girls and boys.

Stopping the kidnappings and murders was the only priority.

Whatever it took.

Unfortunately, they had underestimated whoever was behind the murders, because as the months
went by, the kidnappings and deaths had only increased. It didn’t matter the measures implemented
by the GCPD, nor the curfews at night for young people between 18 and 28. By that point, the city
had already been in chaos. The fear spread like a virus, unstoppable and contagious. It was
everywhere.

It was like a chain reaction, people’s panic triggered more crime in the city. Riots in the streets,
assaults on shopping malls, people who beat up to a pulp anyone they found suspicious.

Everyone in the family had been running on fumes. Trying to stop the waves of violence and
crime, focused on finding those responsible, so frustrated at every lead that turned out to be a dead-
end.

So, when tragedy struck nearby it caught ‘em by surprise.

Jason had been checking CCTV footage in the cave with Tim when Damian had announced very
uneasily that Dick wasn’t returning his calls. At first, it didn’t seem so odd. It wasn’t unusual for
Dickface not to answer his phone for more than three days, busy as he was with his own shit show
in Blüdhaven. But Damian had insisted that Grayson always answered his calls, at least he texted
back when he couldn’t.
Wanting to reassure the kid, Bruce had asked Tim to check out the surveillance cameras in Dick’s
building.

Nightwing had gone out on patrol and hadn’t come back to his apartment.

The landlord in the building hadn’t seen Dick in four days.

Tracking down where Nightwing was last been before he disappeared had led them to an old
abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Blüdhaven. There, Nightwing’s trackers, unity belt, and
escrima sticks lay on the ground. No trace of its owner.

When they realized that Dick was officially missing, it was too late. With him, all the
disappearances ceased.

He was the last person they took.

A month and a half later, almost 45 days without knowing anything about Dick’s whereabouts,
Jason had finally found the establishment of the organization’s operations. It took sweat, blood and
tears (not his) to find this shit hole, but Jason had finally made it.

Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Spoiler were searching every inch of the establishment, just like
him. Divide and conquer, was the phrase. Every minute that passed without anyone reporting that
they had found something was like a twinge on the chest. Not knowing Dick’s condition was even
worse.

Within the six months of abductions, no person had turned up alive. All of them had been found
dead and in various states of putrefaction. Dick had been the last person to be kidnapped… the
odds weren’t good. Jason could pretend all he wanted, but he didn’t want Dick’s younger brothers
to find him if they were truly too late. But he didn’t know either how he would react if he was the
one to find Dick’s body.

It wouldn’t be good.

Jason was trying to block out the bad thoughts. He couldn’t allow himself to succumb to the
uncertainty, to the what-ifs. He couldn’t lose hope when there was still a lot of ground to cover. He
couldn’t be dead.

Jason couldn’t lose him, not him.

Never Dick.

Jason turns a corner into another seemingly empty hallway and feels a force drawing him to the
end of the hall. Intrigued, Jason lets his body drift as if by inertia. He turns another corner and
finds a row of closed doors, all with a red light button indicating that the doors are locked.

He swears under his breath. Taking a closer look, it’s obvious that a couple of gunshots won’t open
that door. It was reinforced steel several inches thick. He could always use his charges to blow up
the door, but he wasn’t sure what was behind the door.

Like in a trance, Jason speaks to the comm line.

“Can someone hack into the security system? I need a door open.” Fuck subtlety. There was no
time for that.

Thank god they had enough signal to communicate down here, with all the solid concrete above
their heads.

“Where are you?” Batman’s voice comes with another question. Jason rolls his eyes under the
helmet.

“I guess I took a shortcut. I’m in the east wing, and I found some rooms with electric doors. I need
access. Now.”

“I’m on it,” comes Tim’s prompt answer. “The systems and the computers are fried, you know,
scorched. But I’m trying to connect me with the main network. Give me a few minutes.”

Jason feels his jaw clench. “We don’t have time. I need them open already.”

“Bear with me,” Tim replies through his teeth. “I can’t work miracles. They burned the system. I’m
trying to take over, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Dammit.” Jason bangs his gloved hand against the steel door.

“You think you found him?” Damian’s rarely little voice is heard over the comm. No hostility nor
disdain. Jason is again remembered that Damian is just a kid, a kid who right now doesn’t know if
his favourite person in the world is alive.

Fuck, he didn’t want to give anyone false hopes, but he didn’t want to lie either— “Maybe.” It’s his
simple answer.

“I am on my way,” Batman announces without further ado.

“Todd, I’m going to you too.” Damian states and Jason closes his eyes.

“I don’t think so, brat. Maybe I’m wrong and we haven’t covered the whole building yet. Finish
your part.”

“I’m coming to you—” Damian snarls.

“Robin,” Batman says suddenly. There was just enough warning in his voice to cut Damian off, but
not unkindly. Bruce knew that Damian just wanted to help, but he wanted to protect him as well.
Damian says a few things under his breath but then reluctantly obeys.

“Easy, Robin, we’ll find him,” Stephanie reassures, and although her voice sounds confident there
is no way to hide the uncertainty that she also feels. No one has the heart to contradict her.

“Okay, I managed to access security,” Tim announces and everyone seems to let out a collective
exhale. “I’m seeing several doors on the east wing, but the system only allows me to open one at a
time. Which one do you want me to open first? Or should I start from left to right?”

“Can’t you open all of them?” Robin complains. “That’ll take forever. We are wasting time.”

Tim groans out of patience. “There is hardly any electricity to keep the lights on. There is not
enough power to open all the doors, okay? Again, the system is scorched! I’m doing my best.”

“Your best is not enough!”

While they argue, Jason walks in front of the row of doors and stops in front of the one with the
number 1B42 written on it. Jason doesn’t know how, but something tells him that’s the door.
Trying not to question too much the sudden certainty he feels and leaving it to dwell for later,
Jason takes a deep, calming breath.

“1B42. Open it.”

“Are you sure? How—”

“I’m positive. Open it.”

It takes a couple of seconds that seem to take forever, but eventually, the little red button glows
green and the door squeaks open. Jason doesn’t waver and pushes open the heavy door, stepping
into the dimly lit room, a white, sterile room. Windowless, and very, very cold. Cold that seeps
through his jacket and armour and stabs down to his bare-bones.

A single, flickering LED light is pointing at a motionless figure laying on an observation table.

Jason feels the air being knocked out of his lungs.

It’s Dick lying on the observation table.

Dick, deathly still.

No, no, no—

“Dick!”

Jason darts toward the centre of the room, not caring about bumping into a tray of medical tools
and sending them crashing to the floor. Jason unclasps his helmet and tosses it to the ground
unceremoniously. The figure on the table remains unfazed by all the noise disturbing the sick
silence.

Please. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead.

“Hood, report—”

“I found him,” Jason interrupts Bruce, swallowing. It feels like there is glass stuffed in his throat,
making it hard to breathe. “B, hurry up.” And if the urgency in his tone is unmistakable, Jason
couldn’t care less.

Bruce takes a second to reply, no doubt trying to keep his voice from cracking.

“I’m almost there.”

Chapter End Notes

So, I watched Stranger Things, and the next thing I knew, this idea was already taking
shape. It had a life of its own.
And now I can’t stop it.

Hello there. This is me writing another story still having a WIP. But no worries, I’m
writing these two stories at the same time. ;)
 The Less I Know The Better
Chapter Notes

Friendly reminder that I’m no doctor.

Me, reading medical articles pretending to understand a damn thing and my parents
were like, all of that for a story?

Yes. Next question.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Time is relative, or what is the same: it is not absolute. This means a second can stretch and draw
out and feel like an eternity, an honest-to-God eternity in which Dick is finally within arm’s reach.

Everything seems to stop for a microsecond, and he hears it. The rhythmical thump-thump of his
heart pounding on his chest, and then everything around him keeps moving, but he’s caught in the
silence.

The problem with silence is that you hear too much.

And the one thing Jason can hear above everything is the turmoil in his head saying I’m too late.
I’m fucking late…

Jason feels the world closing in on him, a dark cloudiness obstructing his view at the edges. He
should make sure there’s no one else in the room, he should try to calm the voices yelling through
the comm line, he should make sure there’s no surveillance cameras or bugs hidden in the room—

But honestly, there’s nothing Jason can care about beyond Dick lying so lifeless in front of him. He
looks so vulnerable. Dick’s not supposed to look so small when he’s always been a larger-than-life
icon to Jason’s eyes.

The sight is just wrong. Unreal.

“Dick?” Jason manages to find his voice and gently taps Dick’s pale cheek, trying to elicit a
response. Nothing happens. Not even a flutter of dark eyelashes. Not even a groan. Fuck. “Dick.
Dickie, can you hear me?” And fuck it if Jason’s voice sounded scared, he was freaking out.
“Dammit, Dick. Open your eyes.”

With shaky hands, Jason hurries off a glove and brings his hand to the conjuncture of Dick’s neck,
pressing two fingers against the cold, clammy skin. Don’t be dead. Don’t be dead. Please—

And that’s when Jason feels the faint pulse, slow but present under his fingertips.

He’s alive.

“Thank fuck.” Jason whispers, briefly closing his eyes against the wave of relief that sweeps over
him.
He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and suddenly feels light-headed, all the
adrenaline and momentum abruptly leaving his body after 45 days of unstoppable search. But a
tired smile spreads across his face anyway, his hands unconsciously going to touch the damp bangs
of Dick’s forehead. “You’re not getting out of my sight again, Grayson. You heard me, dumb
fuck?” And Jason almost, almost misses Dick’s sassy quips now that he isn’t conscious to give
them.

Then Jason’s trained mind reminds him of the first aid protocol he must follow. Get your head in
the game, Todd.

This isn’t over yet.

Okay. Steady heartbeat. No visible bruises or puncture wounds under the thin hospital gown. Jason
sticks his fingers between Dick’s wavy, damp hair to check his skull for any bump or trauma that
may be the cause of his unconsciousness. That’s when his hand touches something foreign and
Jason feels that fleeting relief fade away.

There are white electrodes attached to each side of Dick’s forehead that were hidden under his
messy bangs. How come he didn’t notice them before? He was so focused on Dick being alive that
he didn’t take into account the state Dick was in nor the few outstanding items furnishing the
room.

The LED lamp blinks brighter in front of him and Jason suddenly feels locked in an old-fashioned
torture room.

Reflexively, Jason takes off his brown jacket and spreads it over Dick’s body, trying to bring him
some warmth. Then he proceeds to carefully peel off the electrodes attached to Dick’s forehead
and the wires at the back of his head, ignoring the little red marks they left behind. Deliberately
ignoring Dick’s pale skin, sickly pale and still cold to the touch.

The electrodes were wired to some kind of ECT Machine on a shelf in front of Dick that had been
modified by whoever did this to him. Jason resists the urge to destroy that damn thing with his bare
hands. It was the only evidence of what Dick had been through. The possible murder machine that
killed all those innocent boys and girls.

He feels his hand curling into a ball, trying to push the sudden flashes of the autopsies photos of
their bodies out of his mind, the electrical burns caused by those same electrodes. The fried brains.

Jason shakes his head. No. His fingers on Dick’s pulse remind him that Dick isn’t dead like they
are.

Jason couldn’t save them, but he could still save Dick.

“What did they do to you, Dickie?”

Unfortunately, his question goes unheeded. Jason and the others would have to solve the mystery
until Dick was well enough to tell them himself.

Once free of those damn electrodes and wires, Jason brings his attention to the next task. He takes
a deep breath. He needed to put his feelings in a small box and lock it away. Dick needed his help,
he didn’t need Jason’s anger getting in the way.
Swallowing the bile rising in his throat, Jason begins to undo the brown straps binding Dick to the
observation table. First, the ones that bound his hands, then the one that ran tightly around his
chest. In doing so, it’s impossible to ignore the tattoo in black ink that they left on Dick’s right
forearm.

The numbers 1-2-4-8 carved into his skin permanently.

If everything still felt a little unreal, this is what snaps Jason down to reality. He clenches his teeth
so hard until it hurts. And if his hands were shaking again, it wasn’t out of fear.

“Don’t worry Goldie, I got you. I’ll get you out of here.” He didn’t know if Dick could even hear
him, but it felt good to be the one to fill the silence for once.

By the time Jason is undoing the last strap on Dick’s feet, Batman storms past the doorframe like a
thunderbolt, his cape swooping dramatically behind him. But the effect is lost when the Dark
Knight comes to a halt, almost frozen.

It only lasts a second, but that’s all Jason needs to remind himself that yeah, Batman is just a man
under the cowl. And that despite how much Jason bumps heads with him and grumbles about how
a thick-skinned asshole he is, that doesn’t mean he’s immune to feeling.

Bruce moves toward him, no longer racing as if suddenly shackles were dragging him down.

“What is his condition?” Batman requests. His white lenses are fixed on Dick, as if afraid that if he
looks away for just a second, Dick will cease to exist.

“Stable,” the words have an immediate effect on Bruce, his shoulders dropping slightly. “His pulse
is slow but steady. He hasn’t shown signs of being conscious nor that he is aware of his
surroundings.”

Despite his words, Bruce takes his gloved hand to Dick’s neck as if to assure himself that it’s real.
That he didn’t lose another son. Bruce nods curtly and then touches Dick’s forehead, noticing the
redness left by the electrodes.

He doesn’t comment on it although he briefly glances at the machine. No, he comments on the
least relevant thing he could possibly say right now.

“He doesn’t have his mask.”

Seriously? Jason lets out a groan and shoves a finger to the emblem on Batman’s chest, effectively
making him stop hunching over Dick.

“For fuck’s sake. We’ll deal with it later. Dick needs medical attention, right fucking now—” Jason
snarls to Batman’s face, spite in his voice. “Look at the injection marks on his arm!” Jason points
to the fading marks on Dick’s skin. “It’s likely that he was given the same unknown substance as
the other victims. Right now as we speak in his system is the same shit that killed all those young
girls and boys. We have to get him out of here!”

“You’re right,” Batman agrees easily and Jason doesn’t have time to feel weird to have Bruce agree
with him on something because hasty footsteps can be heard coming from the hallway. “We will
deal with it later.”

“Nightwing!”
Jason looks behind Batman’s shoulder in time to see Robin bolt into the room as if the devil came
after him, followed by Red Robin and Spoiler not far behind. It doesn’t take long for Damian to
approach them and look at Dick uneasily.

Jason can’t see his whole face because of the domino, but he doesn’t need to to see the fear
crawling up Damian’s back.

“Grayson, wake up,” he orders poking Dick’s shoulder lightly. “You need to wake up.” When
there’s no answer, Damian grabs Dick’s hand gently between his. Jason can’t stand the punk half
the damn time, but hearing the pleading in his voice makes him feel sorry for the kid. “Richard, it’s
safe to open your eyes. No one’s going to hurt you again. I promise.”

Tim stands behind Damian, his face pale as a sheet. Steph laces one hand through Tim’s, seeking
comfort. Her face is pinched with worry under her cowl. “Is he okay?”

Bruce takes forcefully his eyes off Dick and turns to look at them.

“We don’t know, but he’s stable for now. We need to get him out of here.”

“What’s the plan?” Tim asks, straightening. Everyone turns to look at Bruce. Everyone but Jason,
who can’t take his eyes off Dick’s chest rising in slow breaths.

It doesn’t take long for Batman to command orders and soon everyone finds themselves with a role
to play. Tim and Steph begrudgingly stay to re-search the place until they find something
meaningful. The others are tasked with getting Dick out of here.

From there, everything seems to blur for Jason.

If Jason hadn’t been so worried about Dick, he would have been worried about his mental gap.

When Jason realizes, they leave Fashion District behind and they arrive at Leslie’s clinic with a
screeching of the Batmobile’s tires. Goldie is a solid weight in his arms and then at Leslie’s orders,
he places him on the stretcher already waiting outside. Jason lets Leslie take control of the situation
and watches as Dick disappears through the swing doors.

Jason’s body urges him to follow them inside. It feels so wrong to let Dick out of his sight. But he
stays where he is, nailed at the entryway of the clinic.

He needs a freaking drink.

_____________

When Jason comes back to himself, probably several hours later, he finds himself sitting in the
hard chairs in the waiting room of Leslie Thompkins’ clinic. He can’t remember when he changed
into his civilian clothes. That’s not troubling at all, huh.

Discreetly glancing around, Jason notices that he isn’t alone. Damian is curled up in one of the
chairs, his head resting on Bruce’s lap. Jason doesn’t know if the kid is really asleep or just
seeking some comfort. Bruce, on the other hand, sits rigidly on the chair. His posture of someone
who’s waiting for the bad news.

Jason rubs his tired eyes and tries to stretch out in the very small chair for his bulkier body.

“Any news?” Jason asks out of the blue as if he hadn’t been sitting next to them the whole time.
But the old man doesn’t bring that up.

“Not yet. Leslie said they’d be busy for a couple more hours.” Bruce replies in a composed way,
not taking his eyes off the door in front of them. His eyes with the sharpness of a knife, like almost
trying to cut holes into the door so he can see what’s going on inside.

Jason nods and it’s then that footsteps are heard coming from the corridor and towards where they
are---the clinic’s reserved area for masked folks such as them. Jason knows whose steps are
without having to look up.

“How’s Dick?” That’s the first thing Replacement asks almost out of breath. Without his domino,
the dark circles stand out very much on his pale face. “Any update?”

“We don’t have any news yet. Last I heard, he was getting an MRI scan.” Bruce mindlessly runs
his fingers through Damian’s hair. He looks up at the two figures standing restlessly a second later.
“Any findings?” Down to business as always.

But with the way Timbers and Steph look at each other, Jason already knows the answer.

“They were thorough in erasing all freakin’ evidence of their stay. No prints, no IDs, nothing.
Though we find an emergency exit where they probably escaped. It goes back to the tunnels, but
the trail took us nowhere.” Stephanie reports, her mouth twisted unhappily.

Bruce clenches his jaw. “You didn’t find any samples of the unknown substance used on the
victims?”

“We found a shattered syringe on the ground that they probably drop with their hasty getaway,”
Tim pulls a small bag of evidence out of his pocket. “I managed to collect a very small sample, but
unfortunately, I don’t know if it will be enough to examine its components. Our second best shot is
Dick’s blood. Maybe we’ll find something.”

“Leslie did a blood test on him. When she gets more results she’ll tell us what she found.” Bruce
nods.

“If we don’t find something, we can take a sample to S.T.A.R Labs,” Tim offers. “They could help
widen our search—”

“What about the control room? Were you able to recover something?” Jason interrupts and both
teens turn to see him as if they can’t quite believe he’s still there.

“I managed to restore some data but the majority was damaged beyond repair. It’ll take me a while
to try to repair and decrypt the documents. But there are no guarantees that I can recover the
important stuff.” Tim miserably admits.

“Dammit.”

“We’ll keep searching those tunnels until we find something. Eventually, they’ll make a mistake
and we’ll catch them. However long it takes,” Bruce growls, every word rolling off his mouth with
absolute certainty. “For now, we can do nothing but wait.”

He can see it in his eyes. Bruce won’t stop until he hunts down those motherfuckers who dared to
hurt his son. Jason looks away, wondering if when the Joker killed him, Bruce had that same fire
burning behind his eyes.

No, he didn’t. Jason thinks bitterly. Because the Joker was still very much alive and breathing.
Poisoning the air with his shitty-ass existence.

Goddamn it. Jason should get the fuck out now that he still could. He no longer had any reason to
stay. He had done his part of the job and rescued Goldie. What the hell was he thinking? Sitting
here had been crossing the bridge a lot more than Jason was comfortable with.

Jason shouldn’t be there. It hadn’t been part of the plan. He should be out there, scouring through
every inch of the building again, looking for more evidence, something, anything. Hunting down
culprits was what Jason was really good at. He shouldn’t be sitting there waiting for news about
Dick.

What did he even care?

Why was Jason still there, dammit? Six months ago, he’d be long gone. But the Jason of now can’t
find in himself the will to get his ass out of the chair and walk out the clinic doors, even knowing
that he should.

Call it remorse, guilt, or worry, but something has him glued to the chair.

Something Jason can’t put into words.

_____________

A bunch of who-knows-how-many hours later, Jason accepts the hot plastic cup of coffee courtesy
of Alfred and returns the older man’s small smile. Bringing the long-awaited liquid to his mouth,
Jason takes a small sip and lets out a sigh. Just like he likes it.

Next to him, a duel of glares takes place between Damian and Bruce.

Leslie had talked to Bruce about thirty minutes ago and said something to him, something Jason
hadn’t been able to hear, but he could immediately detect the change in Bruce.

Something wasn’t okay.

“Father, I’m not leaving until I can see Richard and know he’ll be all right.” Damian had the
closest thing to a pout on his face, a murderous pout.

“Damian,” Bruce begins, wearily running a hand across his face. “I told you, there’s nothing we
can do for now. Leslie recommended that we let the drugs they gave Dick run their course
naturally before she administers anything or tries to wake him up. We don’t know for how long
Dick will remain unconscious.”
“I said I’m not leaving.” Damian folds his arms around his chest stubbornly.

“Alfred will bring you back first thing in the morning or as soon as Dick wakes up and can have
visitors. You need to rest. We all need it. It has been a long night.”

“I don’t need to rest; I need to know that Grayson will be okay,” Damian says calmly, but it’s
obvious the toll this situation has taken on him.

Bruce’s gaze softens. “I know. But I also know that Dick wouldn’t want you to neglect yourself.”
Uh-oh. That’s a low blow, even for Bruce. Something’s going on. “As soon as we have more news,
you’ll be the first to know. You can be with him all you want once Leslie authorizes visits. You
have my word.”

“Does that include skipping those meaningless classes?” Alfred gives Bruce a worthy glare that the
old man pays no mind.

“As long as you catch up on the homework.” Bruce decides after a moment.

Damian thinks about it for a couple of seconds and then reluctantly nods.

“Fine. But I’ll be here first thing tomorrow.”

“Deal.”

Although Tim protests weakly, he and Steph are also persuaded to go to the manor to rest and be
brought in first thing in the morning. Before leaving, Alfred lays his tired eyes on Jason.

“Would you like me to give you a ride home, Master Jason?” Alfred offers and Jason finds himself
shaking his head.

“No thanks, Alf. I’ll stay.”

Everyone seems as surprised as he is with his decision to stay, but no one dares to say shit about it.

When it’s just him and the old man in the quiet waiting room, Jason clears his throat.

“Why all that effort to get everyone out?” Jason questions without mincing words. “Did Leslie tell
you something that you haven’t deigned to share?”

Bruce seems to premeditate his words a moment before answering. That can’t mean anything good.
Bruce never takes that long to say something unless he can’t find the least terrible way to say it.

Jason frowns. “What the hell, Bruce? Say something!”

Bruce looks him straight in the eye. “We won’t have the MRI scan results until tomorrow, but
Leslie suspects that the damage done to Dick’s brain was... severe. We can’t be sure of the severity
scale until he wakes up…” If he wakes up. “But everything points to brain damage.”

Jason processes the words, absorbs them carefully, but they don’t make sense.

“Is it permanent?”
“We don’t know yet.”

_____________

Jason stands clumsily from the chair the moment Leslie opens the wooden door and walks towards
them with a tablet in her hands. Jason has no chance to be embarrassed by his haste at seeing
Leslie’s look on her face.

Leslie is a woman Jason admires for her inner strength and dedication to her work and helping
those who need it most. But right now, that same strength seems to be struggling to stay on its feet.
She gives them a sympathetic look and Jason gets ready for the blow.

“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, I don’t come bearing good news. It’s too early for a final diagnosis, but I
strongly suspect that Dick has suffered brain damage caused by electrical injury.” Leslie informs
professionally but there’s no way to hide her sad look.

“How severe?” Bruce’s words sound clipped, a mask slipping into his face to protect how much
the words have affected him, how much he’s hurting.

Leslie shakes her head. “I can’t predict the gravity after a few weeks or even months have passed.
Long-term damage to the brain will depend on the extent of the voltage and the time he was
exposed to it.” Leslie explains. “What worries me is that Dick took a long time to regain
consciousness. The longer the period of unconsciousness, the worse is the danger of lasting
damage.” She seems wary of her next words. “I asked Dick a few basic questions when he awoke
briefly but he was unable to answer them properly. I gave him an 8 on the Glasgow Coma Scale—”

Jason can’t hear Leslie’s next words clearly because everything sounds far away as if they were
suddenly speaking from the bottom of the ocean and the words were distorted. Jason strides
towards the wooden door and when no one stops him, he slowly turns the knob to open it.

The room is in gloom and Jason lets his senses guide him to the figure visible thanks to the dim
light from the monitors measuring his vitals. Jason stands on one side of the bed and watches Dick
closely.

There are several IV lines attached to his arm and a nasal cannula secured under Dick’s nose. His
chest rose and fell in slow breaths. Jason could be almost fooled to believe that this was just an
ordinary screw-up. It wasn’t uncommon for them to end up here after a gone wrong patrol. Dick
could look almost peaceful lying there, with the raven hair gently falling on his face. But Jason
knows better. This time it was nothing like that, this was bad, really bad.

He makes an aborted step to take Dick’s hand but stops halfway.

Outside the room, he can make out Leslie’s voice bluntly saying: “Bruce, as Dick’s head doctor, I
strongly suggest transferring him to a hospital. He needs the opinion of a neurologist. It wouldn’t
be out of place to even start contemplating rehabilitation for brain injury—”
 Jason chooses to stop listening and throws one last look at Dick, cowardly running from the
problem, he opens the first-floor window and jumps.

Chapter End Notes

I’ll try to update every week ;)

 The Higher We Go, The Farther We Fall
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason shoves his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants as he casually treks through the well-lit
hallways of the hospital. Gotham General Hospital—despite being very late at night—is always
bursting with people. Which made it easier for him to sneak in without attracting too much
attention. With his leather jacket and cap, yeah, he was not at all suspicious. His body language
was broadcasting the message of oh, don’t mind me.

Although, as easy as it is to sneak in, Jason can’t help feeling a bit disappointed. It’s a shame to see
that security protocols haven’t improved. Jason has the fleeting thought that this place might not
be so safe for Dick after all. Jason is considering the idea of filing a complaint when he arrives at
the ICU ward and realizes that in fact, a police officer is securing the entrance. Though saying
‘securing’ is saying a lot, considering this officer is snoozing on a chair, his head leaning slightly
against the wall.

Interesting. Maybe after all Bruce did pull some strings with his contacts at the GCPD to assign
Goldie police security, of course, keeping a low profile, considering that what happened to Dick
hasn’t been made public. Secret identities and everything.

Jason mulls over his options. He could slip through unnoticed, but he didn’t want to take any
chances. Okay. It’ll be plan B then. Jason soundlessly turns around and heads over to where he
parked his bike with his gear in the alley behind the building.

Only family members could visit patients in the ICU.

And unfortunately for him, Jason Todd was a dead man.

And no, there was no way in hell Jason was going to ask someone in the family to authorize one of
his fake ID’s permission to visit. Yes, Jason was well aware that he was just doing things the hard
way. But that was his way of doing things.

All this complication was a thousand times better than having to face Bruce or the gremlins. Jason
couldn’t handle it right now.

It had been almost three weeks since Goldie had been rescued and Jason hadn’t had the guts to go
visit him at the hospital. Jason had devoted his whole attention to searching all the sections in the
sewers that he could. Every dark, damp, goddammit corner. There has to be something.

Jason hadn’t given up hope of perhaps finding a shred of evidence or even another establishment.
But again and again, he had only come empty-handed. However, there was still too much to
explore; but a single person couldn’t explore the whole vastness of the sewers. It would take
months to cover every inch of those tunnels. Worst of all, it was very likely that the organization
had already vanished from the face of the earth. And there was Jason, wasting his time.

When the constant tingling under his skin had become too hard to ignore, when taking his anger
out on the poor souls who had the misfortune to cross his path on patrol didn’t manage to dull the
ache, Jason decided it was time to stop cowering and go visit Dick.
So that’s why here was Jason; launching his grapple gun from the adjacent building and landing on
the window frame that he had predicted was Dick’s room. Taking a deep breath, he works up the
courage to face whatever was waiting on the other side of the window.

Jason cautiously slides open the window and quietly creeps into the dim room. Before Jason can
even verify that it’s the right one, he feels the sharp edge of a knife prodding against his side.

Uh-huh. Bingo.

“What do you think you’re doing, Todd?” Jason relaxes his body, ignoring the discomfort of being
threatened at knife-point. He shoots a glance behind his shoulder, a smirk on his face.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m testing the hospital’s security. My preliminary report? It fucking sucks.”
Taking advantage of the slight distraction, Jason slams away the hand with the knife and twist to
face the Demon Spawn. Damian scowls but stashes the knife back inside his hoodie. A hoodie, by
the way, that looks suspiciously too big to be his. “Why the fuck do you have a knife?”

“I’m the one asking the questions here, Todd.” Damian crosses his arms, raising his face defiantly.
“What is the reason for such shameful intrusion?”

Jason peers into the spacious room and when his eyes lie on the figure on the hospital bed, he feels
a lump in his throat. He wants to get closer, wants to reach out, but Damian is blocking his path.

“Why is Goldie still in the ICU?” Jason replies with another question. He looks down—their
considerable height difference almost absurd—but Damian doesn’t look away.

“Why do you care to know? If I recall correctly, you ran like a coward and weren’t interested in
hearing from Grayson,” denial gets on the tip of his tongue, but Jason knows it’s the truth. “Why
the sudden concern?”

Jason clenches his jaw. “I don’t care.”

Damian arches an eyebrow obnoxiously. “Then what are you doing here, Todd?”

“Is this a fucking interrogation or what?” Jason hisses. “You can shove your questions up your ass.
Besides, I’m pretty sure visiting hours are over. So like me, you shouldn’t be here. Get out of my
way.” Jason steps forward to get closer to Dick, but Damian blocks his way again. Jason feels his
mouth curling in a snarl and he feels the effort of trying not to kick Damian’s ass.

Raising his palms, Jason mutters, “I didn’t come to pick a fight,” which is more or less true. “I just
want to see how Goldie is and I’ll get out of your hair.”

Damian searches his face—looking for some sign of dishonesty—and after a tense silence where
Jason thinks he’ll have to fight his way to Goldie, Damian reluctantly pulls away.

Thanks to the moonlight coming through the open window, Jason can notice every little detail that
he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate before. He lets his eyes roam over dark hair resting on the
pillow and high cheekbones, probably more prominent than before for the time Dick was held
captive. His cheeks are slightly rosier and not sickly pale, but there’s no charming smile tugging
the corners of his mouth.
Not sparkling blue eyes with stars dancing in his gaze.

Dick could look almost peaceful, like in a deep dream, if it weren’t for the bunch of cables
monitoring his vitals.

Jason had hoped that Dick would look better by now, with being in the hospital and with the best
care and specialists that Bruce’s money could buy. But the reality is a far cry from what Jason
counted on because Dick is not acknowledging his presence. Dick is not telling bad jokes or trying
to assure them that he’s okay.

Dick should be getting better, shouldn’t he? Was the prognosis that bad?

“The doctors said it was normal after a brain injury for Grayson to sleep for so long. Over time, his
awake periods will be longer-lasting. Today I was able to be with him when he was mostly
responsive.”

“Mostly responsive?” Jason blurts, grateful that Damian was the first to break the silence. But he
doesn’t have time to keep digging for more information when the door suddenly slides open. Jason
doesn’t jump, but it’s something too damn close.

Jason expects to see a nurse or maybe the officer, but instead, the person standing in the doorframe
is none other than Tim. The teenager looks barely surprised to see Damian there, but when he spots
Jason, he can’t quite hide his shock in time.

Tim shuts the door quietly and walks towards them, his laptop tucked under his arm. “Jason? What
are you doing here?”

“Yeah, good night to you too, jackass.” Jason huffs, crossing his arms uncomfortably. This wasn’t
part of the plan. Dammit. “What’s with the stupid questions anyway? What do you think I’m doing
here, beholding the view?”

“You could have sent a text, you know?” Yeah, and where would be the fun in that? Tim takes a
chair and places it on Dick’s right side. Damian mutters something and then resumes his seated
position on the other side of Dick, hugging his knees close to his chest. “I didn’t expect to see you
here. That’s all.”

“Visiting hours are over, how did you get past the officer out there? If he wasn’t still snoring like a
trucker.” Jason taunts.

“Hmm, I bought him a black coffee and a sandwich from the cafeteria so that he would let me in?”
Tim replies with a shrug.

“That’s bribery, you know.”

“I call it Quid Pro Quo, but whatever,” Tim says nonchalantly. “I imagine that if you hadn’t come
to visit Dick all this time it was because you were pretty busy tracking down the organization,
right?” Jason doesn’t miss the sarcasm or the reproach in Tim’s voice. “Any luck?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “No. I just got my favourite jacket stinking like the fucking sewers. Thanks
for asking.”

“Same with us. We’re examining the machine with which they...” Tim can’t finish the sentence,
shaking his head. “We are trying to investigate its manufacturing site. Maybe it can lead us to them
or where they got the machines.”

Jason hums, directing his gaze once more to the black-haired figure still sleeping. Tim follows his
line of sight to Dick.

“Dick’s departure from the ICU has been held up because he didn’t do well with the cognitive
tests. It’s still too soon, I know. These effects are normal after an injury of this magnitude. But
everyone’s worried that Dick doesn’t seem to be 100% aware.” Tim explains, trying not to sound
too miserable.

Jason feels his heart speed up with his words. “What do you mean by not 100% aware?”

Damian huffs like the question is 100% stupid.

“It’s like his mind is somewhere else, you know? He hasn’t tried to complain about being in bed
for this long. Hasn’t tried to complain about anything, at all. He hasn’t even asked about those who
did this to him!” Tim gestures wildly with his hands, his face outlined with distress. “It’s like... like
he doesn’t care anymore--”

“Dick always cares,” Jason says in a heartbeat. Everything may be changing, yes, but the one thing
that won’t ever change is Dick Grayson caring. Jason knows it like he knows the moon shows up
every night in the sky. “But you can’t expect him to be him so soon, not after something like this.”

But Tim keeps talking like he didn’t hear Jason.

“There’s just something so wrong with seeing him so unresponsive to stimuli. It’s like he’s not
even here. My brother is there, but not really.”

“He needs time,” Jason finds himself saying. “Dick will be back to his old self. You’ll see.” And if
his voice lacked certainty, no one dares to contradict him.

Tim nods softly. “Yeah, okay. In one more week, depending on his improvement, they will
authorize him to continue with rehabilitation from the manor.” For some reason, the news doesn’t
sit well with Jason.

“So Bruce has already decided for him, as usual.”

His words have an immediate effect on the Replacement.

“Look at him, Jason!” Tim gestures towards Goldie. “Dick can barely form words without
forgetting what he was saying. He can barely stand up on his own from the bed without falling.
You don’t expect him to go back to Blüdhaven on his own, do you?” Tim yells, standing up.

Jason inwardly winces with the raised voice. “Of course not. I’m just trying to be fucking neutral,
okay? We must consider what Dick would want.” Jason hisses back.

“Grayson would have wanted to not be broken beyond repair!”

Damian finally bursts and storms out of the room slamming the door behind him. Tim makes an
aborted step to try to go after him but decides not to, dropping heavily back on the chair. Jason can
see right through the lines; the anger on Damian’s face when he left, his poison-laden words; all to
hide his grief.

Tim rubs his eyes and lets out a long sigh, speaking again after a few minutes in silence. “Damian
hasn’t taken it well at all. Sometimes I feel like strangling him, but I have to admit, I feel bad for
him.”

Jason doesn’t need to ask how is Tim handling it. It doesn’t take a fortune-teller to know that the
family is going through a shitty time, each in their own way. There are no words that can make it
better, so Jason doesn’t try. Instead, he chooses to talk about the things that they can change.

A target for their anger.

“What about the blood tests? Any match?” If possible, Tim’s face seems to drop further.
Goddamit.

“We sent a sample of Dick’s blood to S.T.A.R Labs but unfortunately, they came up with the same
inconclusive results as in the cave database. They’ll keep digging until they find something.” Tim
says, his gaze fixed on an aimless point in the room. “However, there’s something strange about
this. Something I still can’t figure out.”

“What?”

“I have been thinking about the purpose of their experiments. The unknown substance is our main
lead, but where do the electric shocks fit into all of this?” Tim scratches his chin. “We must
assume that together, substance and electricity, react against each other. But what were they trying
to accomplish?”

Jason feels his curiosity growing. “The other victims showed no change in their DNA nor their
system as far as the forensics could tell. It’s impossible to know for sure. Dick is the only one who
can tell us more.” Tim clasps his hands in his lap.

“Something doesn’t add up. Why leave Dick there? So far, Dick has been the only of all the
victims who have survived whatever they’ve tried to achieve. Why leave him for us to find?”

A chill runs down Jason’s spine with his next words.

“You think they succeeded with Goldie?”

They both turn to see Dick.

“It’s impossible to know,” Tim bites his finger. “With the damage the electric shocks did to him,
that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

“Then why the police officer is out there in the hallway?”

“You know Bruce’s paranoia. He contacted Jim and gave him a cover story about Dick’s
condition. Gordon sent a trusted officer to stand guard, just in case.”

Jason chuckles humourlessly. “If those motherfuckers could make us lose track of them for so
damn long, I don’t think a single, sleepyhead officer can stop them,” Jason says bluntly. When Tim
shoots him a dirty look, he shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

“Well, thanks for your good vibes.”

Jason smirks and then, tired of standing on the side of the bed like an idiot, decides to take
Damian’s empty seat and flop down onto the chair. Tim arches a questioning eyebrow and Jason
folds his arms around himself.

“I’m just waiting for Dickface to wake up and then I’ll go.”
“Sure,” Tim replies, a knowing look on his face.

“Wipe that smile off your damn face if you don’t want me to get up and kick your ass,” Jason says
with barely some heat in his tone.

“I’m not smiling,” Tim has the nerve to say. “And you can try.”

“Kids these days.” Jason mutters to himself.

_____________

Jason is rudely awakened the next morning when something falls into his lap. Jason makes a
clumsy manoeuvre to try to grab the object, blinking against the heaviness of his eyelids. He can’t
help but groan with the movement. His neck hurt. His body felt like a huge bruise as if he had an
encounter with fucking Killer Croc.

When did he fall asleep? Since when did Jason let his guard down in such a careless way? Jason
rubs his eyes to glare at whoever dared to wake him up. He finds Tim standing by the doorway
with a cardboard container with coffee and an annoying smile. Jason looks down to his lap to find
a pass with his fake ID name that allowed him access to visit Dick whenever he wanted.

“So you don’t have to climb out the window, you know.” It’s Tim’s simple explanation and Jason
doesn’t know what to say.

All this time, Jason had tried to cling to his fake indifference because admitting that he cared was
hard. It meant revealing a weakness. Something they could hurt him with. Something that could be
taken from him.

Admitting out loud that he cared only made it more real, and Jason would rather stay in the dark
for a little while longer.

“So, where’s B?” Jason asks when Tim reaches over and hands him the coffee. He didn’t care, but
it was better than keep picking the previous topic. “I find it strange that he hasn’t attached himself
to Dick like an extra limb.”

Tim barely smiles with the teasing, wrapping his hands around his latte. “You know him. Every
time something bad happens Bruce tries to keep himself as busy as he can so he doesn’t have to
deal with the emotional part.”

“He should be here,” Jason says through his teeth, remembering the way Damian stormed out of
the room. Remembering how volatile Tim was last night.

“I know, but I can understand his reluctance to be here. Bruce is gathering the best specialists in
the field of rehabilitation, the most advanced therapies. Everything in his power to ensure that Dick
will have a chance at a relatively normal life.”
Jason knits his brows together, understanding the hidden meaning of his words. “So, no more
vigilante activities.”

Tim avoids his gaze. “Yeah.”

“Nightwing?” Jason already knows the answer, but he needs to hear it.

“Dead.”

Tim says it so softly that Jason has a hard time hearing it. But his words still manage to knock the
air out of his lungs. All of a sudden, the spacious room seems to start shrinking, the walls slowly
closing in on him.

Jason feels once again like the day he found Dick, but multiplied by ten because this time he has
the certainty that Dick is alive, but how much is left of him?

His most important parts; his charming personality, his stubbornness, his empathy, his way of
loving so fiercely. How much of him will remain? How much of what made him Dick will be lost
forever?

Jason feels his chest tightening, the instinct to cut and run becoming too hard to ignore. He stands
up and when he’s about to take a step toward the door, a hand curls gently around his wrist,
preventing him from drawing away.

Startled, Jason looks at the occupant of the hospital bed. He distantly hears the sound of Tim
dropping his latte in shock because it’s Dick’s hand on his wrist.

It’s Dick not letting him go.

“Goldie?” Jason lets himself drop back into the chair. He searches Dick’s face for signs of
consciousness and finds black eyelashes fluttering. “Can you hear me?”

Dick takes a long time to come out of his daze, worryingly long. But Jason can see the effort
behind every blink, behind every exhale, until he finally seems half-aware of his surroundings.
Jason places himself in Dick’s line of sight when those blue irises eventually manage to focus on
him, unconsciously putting his other hand on top of Dick’s when he sees a flicker of recognition.

“Hey, you’re with me, Goldie?” Jason’s gentle voice comes thoughtlessly.

“Jay—” Dick’s voice is croaky and ragged from disuse; but it’s still the most pleasant thing Jason
has heard in a long, long time.

“You know who I am?” Jason asks, eyes wide open and unbelieving. He must look fucking stupid,
but Jason couldn’t care a damn when Dick curls his lips in a tiny smile. He nods softly and then
calmly closes his eyes, seemingly drifting off once again. But his hand remains on Jason’s wrist,
not letting go.

“Holy shit.” Jason blinks and forces his eyes away from Dick’s peaceful face to stare at Tim with
an arched eyebrow.

“What?”
 “Oh my god. That’s the most Dick I’ve seen him since he woke up.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Jason growls.

“I’m not!” Tim exclaims eagerly. “Jason, I’m being serious. Your presence, something about you
or whatever, did something. I can’t put it into words, but I know you caused something in him.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Tim smiles from ear to ear and then jumps up from the
chair, forgetting the latte mess scattered on the floor.

“I have to tell B!”

“Wait!” Jason says, but Tim had already vanished from the room. Jason lets out a sigh and leans
his forehead against Dick’s hand, closing his eyes. “Shit, Goldie. What have you gotten me into?”

Chapter End Notes

It’s 3:00 in the morning, sorry if there’s any mistake.

 You’re Somebody Else
Chapter Summary

You look like yourself, (but you’re somebody else).

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

They say grief has five stages. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, acceptance.

Jason is no stranger to grief; he’s seen its twisted face a handful of times. That black-veiled
silhouette with a clawed hand reaching for him.

He’s been in grief for his mother Catherine, who, despite her many failings, tried her best. He’s
been in grief for the 15-year-old boy who was brutally and cruelly beaten to death with a crowbar.
Jason knows grief intimately; he has seen it closely reflected in the mirror when he lets himself
fantasize about what his life could have been. He has mourned for the person he did not become.

But this? This turmoil inside him, was like nothing he’d ever felt before.

His mind strays as Jason climbs up the stairs, trying (and probably failing) to go unnoticed. The
manor was silent, miserably silent. Almost as if she, too, was mourning the loss of that warm laugh
echoing off the walls, lighting up the house.

Funny how things turn out, isn’t it? Jason never thought he’d go back to the manor in his own free
will, never thought he would be striding the long corridors that once, long ago, were his home. He
never thought such circumstances would bring him back. But here he was, doing the opposite of
what he should be doing.

When he’s about to reach the east wing corridor, footsteps and an unintelligible conversation can
be heard moving towards him. Jason leans against the wall, hoping to stay out of sight, when he
finally recognizes the voices: Bruce and Dr. Lana Atkinson, one of Dick’s physiatrists.

“—I think we’re missing the point here, Mr. Wayne. When you got in contact with me, I made that
clear from the beginning, didn’t I?” The British specialist’s voice is strictly professional, but with a
pinch of irritation. “Mr. Grayson has made good progress—”

“‘Good progress’?” Bruce interrupts cynically. Jason can’t see Bruce’s face in his position against
the wall, but he can imagine his befuddled expression. “Can we call it good progress?”

Jason doesn’t know if he imagines hearing a sigh.

“Mr. Wayne. I dare to say that considering your son’s case, you are very lucky that Mr. Grayson is
making progress at all. Slow, however it may be, but promising.” She says. “I’ve had other patients
with similarities to your son who never got out of bed again.”

There is a prolonged silence in which Jason is sure Bruce is assimilating her words. He thinks they
won’t say anything else but she speaks again, more kindly.

“I know it’s tough, I can’t imagine how much. But believe me, this is just the beginning.
Rehabilitation goes beyond regaining the ability to walk in a straight line without tumbling or
regaining the ability to be independent. It’s mending the mind. Heal it. Richard needs his family to
be there by his side every step of the way. There’s no point in rehabilitating the body if the mind is
broken, Mr. Wayne. You understand?”

Bruce’s next words sound clipped, not sincere.

“I understand—”

Jason can’t keep eavesdropping because the voices begin their descent down the stairs towards the
first floor. For a second, Jason just stands there, leaning against the wall, trying to keep his shields
up. It’s not the time to weep; not here. After a few minutes, he heads to his original destination at
the end of the corridor.

Jason gently pushes open the wooden door to invite himself inside. There is an unoccupied chair
and he takes it, finally giving himself permission to look at the bed and lower his shields a bit in
the privacy of the room.

Dick is sleeping peacefully on one of those expensive adjustable bed bases that were bought
especially for him and his needs, with remote-control inclination for his head and feet for when he
needs to eat or a more comfortable position. The bed looks particularly out of place, that with the
colourful posters Dick has hanging on his walls and the telescope on one side of the window.

It had been a few days since Dick was finally released from the hospital to continue his
rehabilitation from home. To everyone’s surprise—or maybe not everyone’s—Jason had claimed
his place on the side of Dick’s bed since that first hospital visit. Leave was damn hard for a reason
Jason didn’t know and refused to find out. Nope. He wasn’t touching that train of thought with a
ten-foot pole.

If he had to go to the manor so he could spend some time with Goldie, so be it.

He told himself that his presence was temporary anyway. As soon as Dick showed a glimpse of his
old self, however small, Jason would turn around and leave. But for the near future, he was
staying.

“Hey, Goldie,” Jason greets softly, following the advice of one of the physiatrists. Words were
important. Talking to him was important even though Dick didn’t seem to listen. He does hear you.
“It’s Jason.”

There’s no answer, but it’s not like he’s expecting one. Jason clasps his hands in his lap, not
knowing what to do with them. The instinct to reach out and touch was strong; brush his fingers
over golden skin and soft wavy black hair. But Jason always stops before he can do it. He never
before had the wish to touch as fiercely as now. Where’s that coming from?

With nothing to focus on but the gentle sound of Dick’s breathing, Jason’s mind wanders again.
‘There is no point in rehabilitating the body if the mind is broken.’ The doctor’s words are echoed
in his mind like in a loop.

When the best professionals in the field of rehabilitation were brought together to create a
personalized program for Dick, everyone had hoped that the familiar and comforting home
environment could improve the recovery progress. But there was something they weren’t taking
into account.

Dick no longer considered the manor his home; or any other place, for that matter. Maybe not even
Blüdhaven. Jason knew for sure that Dick considered the people he loved his home. But looking
around, where was everyone?

Yeah, the gremlins were in Dick’s room as long as they could, just like the girls, but Jason could
see in their faces the pain that caused them not to see any improvement in Dick, see the person they
admired, who they adored so freaking much, reduced to a bump in the bed.

Alfred was taking it a bit better—being one of the strongest people Jason had the pleasure of
knowing—which was to be expected. The older man was a very important pillar of the family in a
time as difficult as this, reminding the others to be patient and not give way to despair. Though he
was dealing with grief in his own way—cooking Dick’s favourite food every day with everything
and his special cookies—Jason was relieved that the kids at least had someone strong to lean on.

Bruce was another story. The Bat was pushing everyone away to lock himself into an endless cycle
of self-reproach and blame. He didn’t know how to deal with loss, but now, having Dick there but
not really, was breaking Bruce in a way Jason had never seen before.

Bruce was ‘dealing’ with the situation the only way he knew; he wasn’t dealing with it.

He had set himself the goal of gathering the best possible attention for Dick, physical therapy one
of the most prioritized, to rebuild the physical strength that Dick had lost; as well as balance and
stability. Not far behind were cognitive therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy---in short,
everything possible so that Dick could relatively go back to normal one day. When being the
million-dollar question.

The scene hadn’t changed much since the hospital; Dick spent most of the day sleeping. Although,
as the doctors had predicted, his awake and aware periods were increasing. But instead of finding it
as a positive thing, Jason found it unsettling.

Because when Dick wasn’t sleeping, and Tim, Steph, Cass or Damian couldn’t keep his attention
span for long, Dick drifted. His body was here, but his mind was almost absent. Jason feared that
his mind was too far from everyone’s reach.

It was like seeing a puppet without strings. The sight was wrong, ‘cause Dick Grayson was
everything but a puppet; he was the motherfucker Nightwing, the first Boy Wonder, the one who
set the bar pretty high for his predecessors. And now, Dick was no longer an active participant in
his own life.

But the doctors had said that it was normal, that this type of damage left after-effects of this kind.
They said time and rehabilitation would play an important role in how Dick’s mind would heal.
But the journey was so long. And they were just getting started.

The worst was yet to come.

_____________
Jason was turning the next page of the book he borrowed from Dick’s bookshelf—The Call of the
Wild—when the door creaks open. Looking up, Jason finds the Dark Knight almost hesitant to step
in the room. He snorts with the ridiculousness of the scene.

Jason bookmarks the page where he is left to cross his arms around himself, suddenly hyper-aware
that this is the first time he and Bruce have been alone in a long time. You can’t avoid people
forever, I guess. This had to happen sooner rather than later. No point in delaying it.

When Bruce seemingly is done considering him, he takes another chair and places it on the other
side of the bed.

“I was not aware that you would visit today as well,” Bruce says by way of greeting. As if Jason
hadn’t been sneaking into the manor since the first day Dick returned.

Jason shrugs. “I was leaving anyway. I have shit to do.” He makes up, trying to appear nonchalant.
But he doesn’t get up from the chair.

“Jason...” Bruce begins, a frown on his face. Whatever he is going to say is not easy and Jason
squeezes the armrest, ready to take off if something Bruce has to say pisses him off. “I wanted to
bring out the effort you make to be here despite how much you would rather be anywhere else.
Tim has told me that your presence seems to—” he searches for the right word. “perk up Dick.”

Jason feels his right eye twitch. “Your point?” Bruce straightens in the chair, his hand mindlessly
going to tidy up the blanket draped over Dick without taking his gaze from Jason’s.

“I just wanted to thank you for what you’re doing, Jason. I appreciate it greatly.” Jason squeezes
the armrest until his knuckles are white.

“I’m not doing it for you.” Jason hisses, aware of how his face must be filled with warning. Stop
talking.

But of course, Bruce doesn’t.

“I didn’t expect you to do it for me,” is Bruce’s answer, and unlike him, his face is void of some
reaction. “This is about Dick. If having you here helps him, then you can stay as long as you
want.”

Jason can feel his anger growing. “You only want me here because I’m Goldie’s only willing
company? The only person who has the balls to sit here with him?”

Bruce shakes his head, his brow furrowing further. “I never said that—”

“And yet it’s the truth,” Jason stands up. “You should be here, Bruce. You should be in every step
of this process even when nothing is happening; not just when the golden boy manages to get out
of bed without help. You should be here by his side. You should be checking how Tim and
Damian are dealing with this instead of hiding in the cave like a coward.” Each word is soaked
with venom until Jason is hissing like a snake about to bite.

“I’m not hiding,” Bruce finally says after a minute and Jason lets out a humourless laugh. “I’m
busy cross-checking every substance record that I may possess until I find what Dick was
administered with. I’m breaking down every part of the modified ECT machine until I can identify
the slightest screw and know exactly where it came from—”

“And how do you explain that Tim is doing the same thing and still has plenty of time to visit
Dick, huh?” Jason points out. “Those are just excuses for not being fucking here.”

“Jason,” Bruce grumbles almost out of patience. “I promised Dick I’d find the culprits for this and
make them pay.”

There is something in his voice when he says the last that makes Jason livid.

“Just like you made the Joker pay, too?” Jason snarls. “What are you gonna do when you find
them, huh? You’re gonna lock them up in jail until they find a way to escape... or you’re gonna tear
them to pieces for what they did to your golden son?”

When Bruce remains silent, Jason gives him a spiteful smile.

“This time are you going to cross the line you didn’t cross for me, Batman?”

“I won’t cross anything, Jason.” Bruce finally says, his voice barely strong. “Don’t try to imply for
a second that I would avenge Dick more than you.” Pain has crept through Bruce’s shields and is
fully showing on his face; the pain of an old wound that never healed. “I was lucky to have you
back. But I’m not sure I’ll get Dick back.”

The vulnerability in Bruce’s voice almost makes him feel bad. But not for long.

“And that’s all that matters, isn’t it, Bruce?” Jason shakes his head. “Bring back your best soldier.
Bring back the only person who is willing to hold up this family when you choose not to or can’t.
The only person who no matter how much you’ve hurt will always come back because he doesn’t
know how to turn his back on you even when he should!” Jason says in a raised voice, pointing an
accusatory finger at Bruce. “You’ve always trusted Dick to be the safety net, but not anymore.
Now you’ll have to be his safety net.”

Those words finally seem to go through Bruce and he sinks further into his seat. Jason lets out a
tired sigh. He doesn’t even know why he bothers; he doesn’t know why he’s here trying to talk
some sense into Bruce when they’re not even close, not anymore. He shouldn’t care.

All at once, the anger is replaced by exhaustion to the bone. Give him a fucking break.

Jason rips his jacket off the back of the chair and is about to leave when the nightstand light blinks
on and off like it has a short-circuit, catching his attention.

“Jay.”

At first, Jason thinks he’s imagining the soft voice calling his name, until out of the corner of his
eye he can see shifting in the bed. He drops his jacket and leans over the bed.

“Dick?” Jason says. “Hey, are you with me?” He watches as Dick turns his face towards his voice,
blinking heavily. It takes a moment, but eventually, Dick opens his eyes long enough to focus on
him and get rid of the haze a bit.

A hand comes out of the nest of blankets and makes its way sluggishly over to Jason, trying to hold
onto him. Jason reaches out his hand and lets Dick’s uncoordinated hand hold his. He blinks
stupidly at the gesture.

This is the second time that Dick has sought to hold his hand.

“I see you’ve done your homework, buddy. That’s a firm handshake as far as I can tell.” Jason tries
to tease him, but Dick shakes his head; a distressed expression on his face. “What is it, Dickiebird?
Is something wrong?”

“Don’t go.” Dick manages to say, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort of pulling that little
sentence out of his dry throat.

“Why?” And maybe someone should give him an award for asking the stupidest of questions, but
Jason had no fucking idea why Dick would want him to stay.

“Just...don’t.” Dick simply says, staring at him. “Stay.”

Jason looks away because suddenly he can’t bear that look of hope that crosses Dick’s face—but it
turns out to be a mistake. Bruce is looking at them with an odd expression Jason can’t decipher
right now. Jason feels something crawling under his skin. He feels himself losing it.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Jason promises and Dick shakes his head slowly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be
with you tomorrow even in your sessions, okay, Wing?” That doesn’t seem to convince the blue-
eyed either, but Jason takes it anyway. Giving one last strong squeeze, Jason untangles Dick’s hand
gently over his to leave it on the bed and take a step back.

“Jay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jason doesn’t look back, because he knows very well that if he sees Dick’s face one more time,
there wouldn’t be anything in the world that would make him leave.

And as he walks out he can feel Bruce’s gaze on his back all the way to the door.

_____________

Several hours later, more emotionally calm and collected, Jason flops onto the roof of one of his
safe houses, not feeling like patrolling tonight. The night is cold, but Jason barely feels it with his
jacket. He feels kinda numb.

He uncovers his beer and takes a long gulp, wishing it was something stronger, something that
would make him forget the sad expression on Dick’s face. The last thing Jason wanted to do was
make Dick sad, but Jason knew having Bruce there would only have him on the edge, ready to
fight.

Jason takes another sip, contemplating the city from his place. Gotham was quiet for once. No
suspicious activity. No riots in the streets. No capes swirling in the air. Not vigilantes jumping
from building to building---
 Jason sombers when he becomes aware that he will never see certain black and blue figure soaring
through the air ever again. No more bad puns while doing a stakeout or in the middle of a fight. No
more ice cream on top of a building with their feet dangling from the edge. No more Nightwing.

Jason is familiar with loss, with the pain of losing something you love dearly. His mom. Robin’s
mantle. But, how do you grieve for someone who’s still alive? How do you cry for someone who
is at your fingertips, but at the same time, it’s galaxies away?

The world had truly lost one of its best heroes.

Chapter End Notes

What are your thoughts on the history so far?

 Let The Truth Sting
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

His presence in the manor was almost ordinary these days, which was a feat on its own. It had
taken a long time for Jason to come to terms with that. He wasn’t the only outsider often stopping
over the manor, though. Many members of the masked community had visited frequently; league
members, Dick’s closest friends who knew his secret identity. The house has been brimming with
friends and allies, filling the silence that had lingered since Dick came back from the hospital.

No wonder. Dick was one of the most beloved heroes out there, even most of the bad guys had
come to respect him at some point. It was to be expected that his condition would have an impact.
The news that Nightwing would never glide through the heights again had spread like wildfire. To
everyone else, Nightwing was officially dead. To those close, they knew that Dick was
permanently benched.

And throughout the few interactions Jason’s had been able to watch of those visits—Clark, Donna,
Wally—it was clear how much Dick means to those close to him. The battles fought together; the
things they accomplished together, both the good and bad memories. Jason had reaffirmed his
knowledge of how many people loved Dick Grayson.

One thing was true, though. The more Jason visited, the less oppressive it felt to walk through the
old, big mansion. Maybe it was ceasing to feel like a death trap that was going to crush him any
minute and was beginning to become a place that Jason tolerated setting foot in.

When he wasn’t attached to Dick like a new extremity, Jason spent his time at the manor having
tea with Alfred in the kitchen, chatting from book recommendations, cooking recipes, and
sometimes even the latest gossip.

It was refreshing to spend his afternoons with the older man and his reassuring presence. Jason
hadn’t known how much he had needed to heal the bridge with Alfred and mend their relationship.
Of the whole bunch of jackass living in the manor—except for Cass—Alfred was an absolute
comfort to have around.

That’s why on a Sunday afternoon, Jason opens the slightly ajar door to Dick’s room and arches an
eyebrow when he finds the bed empty and the blankets thrown carelessly aside. Today he wasn’t
supposed to have any sessions. Jason purses his mouth, wondering where Dick might be.

Because yeah, while Dick gained more control over his balance on both feet as the days went by
(thanks to physical rehab), that meant Dick was spending more time out of his room. Even being
outdoors with Damian and Titus seemed to do wonders for his physical improvement. But all
improvement aside, not everything was a smooth, flowing recovery.

No matter how much progress rehabilitation was making in the physical field; Dick’s mind wasn’t
getting any better. No matter how normal he might look, no matter how much you looked at him
and he seemed to be the same as always, there was no way to fool oneself and not see the degree of
permanent damage he had endured.

He was missing that sparkle in his blue eyes that shone brighter than a thousand stars.

No more of that sharp-tongued attitude. No more quick wit to make you smile when you needed it
the most.

No more jaw-dropping stunts to show off.

Dick used to be movement; he used to be life incarnate.

And now it was like Dick was okay with sitting on a couch and watching life move onward before
his eyes. As if he didn’t have the slightest interest in playing the leading role in his own life. As if
he was okay with everyone deciding for him constantly. He didn’t care anymore about the clothes
he was wearing, or the food he ate, or the movies he watched.

The Dick from before would have started a fucking riot with the way Bruce was planning the rest
of his life. He would have fought tooth and nail to uphold his ability to choose. He wouldn’t have
let anyone decide for him.

When Jason comes out of his thoughts, his feet had dragged him to the third floor and towards a
tea room with a small sitting room that almost no one frequented. Why here? Jason couldn’t tell.
He carefully opens the wooden door and peeks inside.

There were two couches with a coffee table in the middle full of snacks overlooking a broad
window. Cuddled on one of the couches, Damian and Dick were watching some video while Titus
was lying on the carpet next to the couch, sleeping peacefully. On the other couch, Tim was
browsing something on his tablet, or, rather, he’d been browsing because his eyes were currently
on Dick and Damian in front of him, a soft look on his face.

Jason unconsciously takes a step back not wanting to disturb the almost intimate moment with his
presence. But he can’t take his eyes off the scene either because everything looks so… familiar.

“Jay.” Jason can’t help but feel his lip twitch up when he hears the voice. Dick takes his eyes off
the screen and looks at him keenly, a smile lighting up his face. Why was Dick always smiling
when he saw him?

“Hi, Goldie.”

Jason knows right away why Dick chose this room; through the broad window, sunlight
illuminates the room in warm shades of orange and pink, giving the room the illusion of an old
museum or a cabin in the woods.

“What are you doing here, Todd? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something important?”
Damian grunts, glaring at him for stealing the attention of his Grayson.

“Oh, right. I didn’t know watching cat videos was that important.” Jason teases and Damian clicks
his tongue.

“What are you doing here today? Sundays are Dick’s days off from rehab. You never stop by these
days.” Tim casually comments, but Jason can see his face tilted in curiosity. Jason shrugs as he
walks over to the couch where the teen is sitting and flops on the far side.

“I have nothing better to do.” It’s his simple answer, even if Jason is well-aware that his excuses
are already repetitive and lack creativity. But does Jason give a shit? Not at all. Tim could shove
his questions up his ass.
“Yeah, sure,” Tim says teasingly and Jason kicks him on the shin. “Ow!”

“How’s it going today, Dickie?” Jason decides to change the subject with something he does care
about.

“Good,” Dick says with a small smile, stretching his bare feet sticking out of the edge of the couch.
“I’m watching videos with Dami.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “We were watching videos before Todd interrupted us.” Dick looks at
Damian fondly and tightens his arms around him, pulling him closer. Damian doesn’t even try to
fake annoyance at the embrace.

“It’s okay. Jay is good.”

“You’d think so?” Damian frowns and looks at Dick as if he had grown a third head.

“I know.” Dick nods and leans his face against Damian’s head, turning his gaze back to the video
still playing. Damian shrugs and also turns his attention back to the screen.

Jason stares at the way Dick looks so relaxed spread out on the couch in a pair of pajama bottoms
and a white shirt. Even his speech is improving, more fluent and with a larger vocabulary. It’s
nothing like the Dick that used to talk his ass off, but it’s progress.

“How did you know we were here?” Tim asks suddenly and Jason turns to see him with an arched
eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “I mean, how did you know we were in this room? Did you ask Alfred?”

“No,” Jason answers. “I just knew. Any warm place with big windows is a place where you can
find Goldie these days. It’s not that hard to deduce, dumbass.” Tim looks at him almost
calculatingly, like he’s trying to solve a riddle.

For some reason, Jason is uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“Can I ask you something?” Tim says a moment later, putting down his tablet to give him his full
attention.

“You already did.” Jason points out.

Tim turns a deaf ear to his evasive moves. “That day, the day we found Dick in that dammed
place,” the teen says quietly so Dick and Damian can’t hear him. Which is useless. Damian is
clearly eavesdropping. “How did you know precisely the room that Dick was in? I couldn’t stop
thinking about the odds of getting it right the first time, you know?”

“What’s the reason for this sudden interest?” Jason grunts. “Why it’s relevant?”

“Just curious.” Tim excuses himself, shrugging like it’s no big deal. But Jason is good at reading
people, he can see that Tim is really interested in the answer, like a good detective. “I mean, aren’t
you curious either?” he adds.

Truth be told, Jason had avoided dwelling on the matter. There was no point in obsessing over
things that had no explanation. Jason wasn’t naive enough to believe that things just happened
because they did, nor that there was something mysterious about his sudden ability to know where
Dick was.

But he was smart enough not to stay up all night thinking about it. It didn’t take away his sleep.
For some reason, it felt right.

“No, not really,” Jason says as convincingly as he can, trying to imply that he doesn’t want to talk
about it anymore.

“It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me, you know.” It’s the only thing Tim adds, for once
leaving the subject alone. But Jason doesn’t have time to think about it when a soft sound reaches
his ears.

It wasn’t so much as a laugh; it was more like a chuckle, but Jason wasn’t sure when was the last
time he’d heard Dick laugh. It felt like an eternity. Jason didn’t know he could miss someone’s
laugh so much until now.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Tim asks with a grin, looking away from Jason.

“For some reason, Richard finds the silly edit of a cat impersonating a dinosaur amusing,” Damian
reports, he could sound as bored as he wanted, but there was no way to hide his little smile.

“It’s cute, it’s just that you’re too sour to admit it.” Tim jokes with a teasing smile.

“I’m not sour, I just happen to have a good sense of humour.” Jason almost waits for Dick’s
offended response by finding the video funny, but it never comes. Dick just keeps looking at the
screen, his hand petting Damian’s hair like he’s not paying attention to the conversation.

“You? Good sense of humour?” Tim chuckles as he picks up his tablet again. “Titus has a better
sense of humour than you.” The Great Dane flicks his ears at the mention of his name but remains
in his place on the carpet.

“Anyone has a better sense of humour than the dwarf.” Jason contributes to the conversion
playfully, feeling the banter flow like it didn’t long ago. “Sure, except B. That man, for God’s sake,
doesn’t know how to laugh.”

“That’s not true,” Damian scrunches up his face. “It’s just that you never knew how to make
Father laugh.” Damian raises his chin haughtily.

“And you do?” Jason strikes back, briefly recalling echoes of Bruce’s rarely heard laugh when
Jason said something funny, back then they were the dynamic duo.

Tim lets out a laugh and pretends to keep scrolling down the screen of his tablet, making Jason
come out of his buried memories.

“Of course,” Damian scoffs, unexpectedly throwing a granola bar at his face. Jason easily catches
it with one hand, a mocking grin on his face. “I’m the blood son.”

“Nah. You’re just a brat.”

Jason throws back the projectile and Damian slaps it away, but he doesn’t realize which direction it
flies off. All the easy-going vibe seems to be sucked up by a vacuum when the granola bar hits
Dick’s face, who lets out a groan.
“Grayson, I—” Damian sits up and looks at Dick in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Dick
rubs a hand over his face clumsily and stares blankly at Damian, his brow furrowed.

“It’s okay.” It’s Dick’s answer, but Damian shakes his head.

“It’s not okay, you should be upset,” Damian says almost accusingly. “You should tell me to be
more careful. You should scold me and tell me not to throw things at Todd’s stupid face. You—
you should say something.” Damian says the last almost sorrowfully.

But Dick keeps staring blankly at him as if he doesn’t understand what he means.

“If you’ll excuse me, I must retire,” Damian says without further ado, hastily getting off the couch
and striding to the door, Titus immediately follows him out of the room as Damian slams the door
shut behind him. Jason almost expects Dick to get up and go after him—as he has always done—
but Dick stays where he is leaning back on the couch, staring at the door.

The peaceful atmosphere becomes tense and Jason rises from his place on the opposite couch, for
some reason being the one who goes to check on the Demon Spawn.

It’s not hard to find Damian, who had gone to lock himself in his room. When Jason pushes the
door open after knocking and receiving no answer, Damian looks up with an almost hopeful
expression—he was hoping it was Dick—but when he sees it’s Jason, he snaps his eyes away,
roughly dragging his sleeve across his face.

“Go away.” Damian snarls.

Jason stands on the doorframe not knowing how to proceed. Goldie was always the one to handle
these things; the one who had the bond with Damian, the one who always knew what to say. Why
the fuck was Jason trying to fill that role? He didn’t even live here, he didn’t have a close
relationship with Damian. What was he doing here?

“Leave me alone,” Damian mumbles brusquely and that’s the push Jason seizes to invite himself
into the room. If someone asked him why Jason wouldn’t know exactly. When no one throws a
knife at him, he seems safe to sit on the edge of the bed. A few meters away, just in case.

Titus was sitting with his head resting on Damian’s lap, who was gently scratching his ears. Jason
lets them spend a few minutes in silence to test the waters and when he sees that Damian isn’t
pushing him away, he decides it’s safe to try and say something.

“I know it sucks,” Jason begins, scratching his chin uncomfortably. Comforting people has never
been one of his strengths. “I know it’s frustrating. But you can’t expect Goldie to go back to his old
self so soon. You just have to give him—”

“Time?” Damian finishes for him without looking at him. “They all keep saying the same thing.
The doctors say the same thing. The physiatrists say the same thing. Father says the same thing. I
know. But knowing it is very different than accepting it.”

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, not knowing what else to say.

“Have you accepted it?” Damian suddenly asks, taking him by surprise. Jason meets Damian’s
green eyes and he knows that lying is not an option.
“Kinda. At least it stopped feeling like it was happening to someone else.” Jason admits.

Damian looks away, making his hands fists. “I can’t accept it, Todd.”

“I know,” Jason says. “And I know you’re angry. And you should be.”

“Father says being angry only clouds my judgment. I should control my emotions better—”

“Fuck that. You have the right to be angry. If you bottle your emotions, it’ll only end worse for
you.” Jason growls. “I know you’d like to smash everything with your bare hands. Trust me, I
understand that feeling. But, the best thing you can do for Dick?” Damian looks back at him. “Is to
be there.”

“I just want my brother back.”

Jason doesn’t know if that was meant for him to hear or if Damian just thought about it out loud,
but he hears it anyway. And maybe it’s a good thing that Jason followed him here.

“Your brother is right there; you just have to make peace with it. In your own way. In your own
time.”

_____________

For the next few nights, Jason ends up going back to the conversation with Tim and his snoopy
questions. Because honestly, it did make him curious, the feeling of knowing where Dick was
without thinking too much about it. It was like one of those things you just know, but you have no
idea how. But many times the simplest thing ended up being the most correct explanation.

Under that introspection, Jason decides not to think about the matter anymore, believing that that
was it.

But Jason must rethink the matter again a few weeks later.

It was a relatively quiet night, just a couple of frustrated robberies in dark alleys, a high-speed
police pursuit and other small incidents that had been easy to handle. Red Hood was more focused
on a new lead regarding an illegal sale of contraband weapons arriving at the city that was
supposed to take place tonight when his attention was completely ripped from the building he was
surveilling.

The street was deserted at this time of the night, so Jason can hear with stark clarity the noise of
something crashing into a trash can and dumping its contents everywhere. Red Hood stays still for
a moment, wondering if it’s worth investigating.

Most likely it was a stray cat looking for food. It could be a drunk person who tripped over the
trash can. But Jason’s more paranoid side reminds him that it may well be a threat lurking from the
shadows to ambush him. It wasn’t unlikely, but if a person made so much noise trying to be
stealthy, it would automatically turn them into a low-level threat. All clear.

Red Hood returns his attention to the building he’s supposed to be watching when he hears more
noise coming from the alley just below the building he is occupying. Well, this was starting to
distract him, which wasn’t good for his stakeout.
He suddenly feels again the tug in the back of his mind—something calling him—and he has no
choice but to listen to the feeling and pull out his grappling gun grudgingly. He smoothly lands on
the asphalt in the dark and seemingly empty alley a second later.

Jason scans the alley warily and that’s when he sees the mess of garbage and empty beer bottles
scattered on the ground. Jason gets closer and when he looks behind some dumpsters blocking his
view, he finds nothing. No sign of a stray cat or drunk person.

“Huh,” Jason mumbles.

He makes a move to retrieve his grappling gun and go back to his surveillance when something
grips his wrist from behind. Red Hood immediately takes his gun out of its holster and swirls
around, pointing it at the threat.

Except it’s not a threat.

Jason widens his eyes behind the helmet and automatically drops the gun as if it had burned him
when he recognizes who the person is.

“Dick?” Jason says breaking any ‘no names in the field’ protocol ‘cause seeing Dick Grayson
standing in front of him in an alley at 2 am isn’t something Jason would have seen coming. “What
the hell are you doing here?” And if his voice modulator had a worried edge, that didn’t matter.

“I— I don’t know. I was looking for you.” Dick stammers and Red Hood tilts his head, honestly
taken aback by Dick’s presence. That didn’t answer the fucking question of why Dick was deep
within an alley in such a shitty neighbourhood; completely alone and unprotected. Looking for him.

“Why were you looking for me?” Jason can’t help but blurt out.

Dick runs a sluggish hand through his tousled hair that had some dry leaves tangled in the dark
locks and shrugs, looking completely disoriented. “I was looking for you. But... I don’t remember
why anymore.”

Red Hood sighs and that’s when paying more attention to the little tremors in Dick’s body makes
him realize he’s dressed in plain pajamas and a pair of Crocs, honest-to-God fucking Crocs.

Jason takes off his brown leather jacket checking that there is no one around and wraps it around
Dick’s shoulders to try and shield him from the cold November air. Dick doesn’t protest and hugs
himself, his teeth chattering.

“How did you find me?” Jason asks and Dick just shakes his head. “Who let you out?” No answer.
Okay, new plan. He wasn’t going to get answers in this alley and with Dick in this state. “Fine, we
gotta get you out of the cold, okay?” The blue-eyed nods slightly and Jason picks up his gun from
the ground to put it back in its holster, raising his hands so that Dick can see them. “Can I touch
you?” Another nod.

Gently, Jason wraps one arm around Dick’s shoulders and hooks the other underneath his legs as
he picks him up. Dick doesn’t protest and drops his head against Jason’s chest, heaving a sigh of
relief at the warm contact.

Jason secures his grip on his precious cargo and takes out his grappling gun to head to his nearest
safe house.
 This isn’t how Jason had expected his night would end.

Chapter End Notes

sorry for the delay, I was busy but here we are <3
 You Shall Seek Me And You Shall Find Me

Jason had realized a little bit too late what a terrible idea it had been to carry Dick to his safe house
swinging from building to building.

In his defence, never in a million years, it would have crossed his mind that an activity that Dick
had been doing since he was nine years old, could ever make him sick. Something so distinctive
about him; something that had come as easy for him to do as breathing.

But Jason had been wrong. Tremendously wrong.

The moment Jason sets foot on the other side of his window, Dick clumsily untangles his arms
around his neck and drops to his knees heaving, to eventually empty his stomach on Jason’s newly
purchased rug.

Jason’s mind has a short period of honest bewilderment until he springs into action—bathroom,
they needed to go to the bathroom. With some difficulty along the way, he helps Dick head to his
thankfully well-equipped small bathroom. The second Jason lets go of him, Dick flops to the side
of the toilet, panting heavily.

With the LED light switched on, Jason can unmistakably notice Dick’s pale skin and the small
wounds that for the poor lighting of the alley he hadn’t seen before.

“Are you okay?” Duh, stupid question. Let’s rewind. “You need anything- water, cocoa?” Jason
remains hovering by the door, kind of unsure of setting foot inside the bathroom. Dick doesn’t
acknowledge his questions though, instead, he rests his head on the tile wall, his brow furrowed
with nausea. Jason decides to change tactics. “Hmph, wouldn’t you rather go somewhere more
comfortable?”

No way the cold tiles seemed comfortable, but instead of producing a favourable response, that
seems to be the wrong thing to say because Dick lets out a pitiful whimper and Jason curses
himself. Stupid.

“Ok, got it. No moving. I’ll go get a glass of water and maybe I have some pills to get rid of
nausea. I’ll be right back, okay?”

When there’s no answer from Dick, Jason rushes to get what he needs. Water from the kitchen,
pills from his drawer in the master bedroom, and while he’s at it, remove from his person his
holsters, helmet and red domino to look less threatening. Oh, and put the newly purchased rug in a
garbage bag. There was no way it was going to survive.

When he returns to the bathroom a few minutes later, Dick didn’t even seem aware of his absence.
Jason finds it deeply concerning. He swallows the lump in his throat and kneels in front of Dick,
offering him the glass of water and the pill.

“Here, this will help you,” Dick slowly opens his eyes and it takes a moment for him to snap out of
his daze, but he lethargically accepts the glass. Jason should have seen it coming, that with Dick’s
coordination sucking at the moment, so it’s no surprise when he doesn’t get a good grip on the
glass and it slips out of his hand. Luckily, Jason grabs it before it smashes against the floor.
“Gotcha. You want some help?”
“Yes.”

Words that before would have been something awfully hard to say now are said just like that. The
colossal difference almost made Jason feel dizzy himself.

Once Dick takes a few sips of water and swallows the pill, Jason puts the glass in the sink and
squeezes softly Dick’s knee. “You feeling better?”

“A bit,” Dick admits. At least he wasn’t heaving anymore.

Jason grimaces. “I’m sorry, Dick. I didn’t know your vertigo was that bad. If I had known, I would
never have brought you here like that.”

Jason was aware of the vertigo episodes that Dick was experiencing and how any sudden
movement made him lose his balance and feel light-headed. But not like this. Not after almost two
and a half months of rehab. Not when Jason had made the calmest, smoothest ride he’d ever made.

“It’s okay.” It’s what Dick replies. Jason wants to contradict him and say that isn’t really okay,
nothing about this is remotely okay, but Dick looks kinda miserable in his almost collapsed
position against the wall, his face still pale and his eyes glassy. Jason doesn’t want to make him
feel worse.

“You want to stay there or do you want to try going to the living room?”

Dick shakes his head softly. “Here.”

“Okay. We’ll wait here until you feel better.” Jason makes a move to get the first-aid kit stocked
under the sink, but Dick stops him with a hand on his wrist. Jason looks at him curiously. “I’m not
going anywhere, Goldie. I’m just getting the first-aid kit. You have some nasty cut on your cheek.”

“Do I?” Dick asks doubtfully, reaching to touch it, but Jason stops him.

“Don’t. You can aggrieve the cut.” Jason takes what he needs to clean the small wounds. It’s
nothing serious, but that gives Jason something to do with his hands rather than fidgeting like an
idiot. “So, you have no idea how you got them?” Jason tries not to let his concern be too obvious.

“No.”

“Hmh.”

Jason sits in front of Dick and takes out a clean cotton ball and soaks it with antiseptic, all under
Dick’s glassy blue gaze. He leans close, trying to see the cut better. It looked as if Dick had passed
close to something pointed— most likely a branch, considering the leaves stuck in his hair.

“This may sting a bit,” he warns, but Dick doesn’t react when Jason starts cleaning it, he just stares
deeply at him. “It looks like you fell. Are you hurt somewhere else?”

“No...” Dick says not very convincingly. “Not that I know.” He adds a second later. He wrinkles
his brow, probably trying to remember, but he still seems to have no clue of how he ended up with
those wounds.

Once the cut is clean, Jason searches for a band-aid and places it on his cheek, Dick runs his
fingers over the band-aid and Jason moves his hand away gently. Then he takes another cotton and
starts cleaning the scrape on Dick’s jaw.
The lack of reaction makes Jason feel something squirming in his stomach.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Small talk, Jason could do that. Otherwise, his mind would wander to more worrying things that
Jason still didn’t want to address.

“I was in my room,” Dick says slowly. “And then— nothing,” Jason’s attention is diverted from
Dick’s face to his eyes and there is something about them as if they wanted to tell another story; as
if they wanted to tell him something. But Jason can’t figure it out. “Why can’t I remember?”

“It’s okay. Maybe in a moment, the memories will come back to you. Don’t force it.”

Jason remembers hearing Dr. Atkinson say the same thing to Dick at some session. Jason finishes
tending to the few more cuts and closes the kit, pushing it aside. Dick looks calmer and not like he
ran a marathon, and Jason needed to get Dick out of the cold bathroom floor and into a warmer
place sooner rather than later. He holds out a hand. “You want to try again?”

“Yeah.”

Dick grabs his hand and Jason almost supports all his weight to help him get back on his feet. But
the moment Dick is fully standing, he heaves and Jason barely has time to manoeuvre him into
puking into the toilet.

Okay. This may take a while.

_____________

After another failed attempt and one more puke, Dick is collected enough for Jason to help him
into his living room and on the couch. Dick drops on it as if the energy has drained from his body.
He looks exhausted. Jason stands in front of him for a second with no idea how to proceed when he
spots a small folded blanket from the other couch.

It was thin and probably not good enough to bring warmth. Jason drapes the blanket over Dick’s
shoulders anyway.

“This might help.”

His apartment had no heating, and being a safe house that Jason rarely frequented, it didn’t make it
too warm. Jason curses himself for not being able to make Dick feel better, for being so unprepared
to help him.

So far Dick has only been miserable in Jason’s care.

“Thanks,” Dick says and curls up on the couch. After a second of hesitation, Jason sits down next
to him.

“You want another blanket? I think I have a nice one in the—” but Jason can’t finish what he was
going to say because Dick seizes the closeness to swap the thin blanket for his body heat. Dick
wraps his arms around Jason’s chest and tucks his face in the crook of his neck. “Oh.”

Jason freezes, his shoulders stiff like a bowstring being pulled. The Dick from before would have
never crossed boundaries with Jason’s personal space. He would have respected it. But now… it
seemed he had forgotten about it. Or he no longer cared.

But even more startling, the feeling of Dick holding him tight doesn’t feel invasive, quite the
opposite. Jason wraps his arms around Dick tentatively—hugging him back—and amazes himself
with the warmth that spreads through his chest.

Jason is so distracted by the strange sensations in his body that he barely hears Dick’s muffled
voice on his neck.

“I remember being in my room and having this...” Dick trails off, trying to find the right words.
Jason waits patiently. “I don’t know. I just knew I had to find you.”

“Why me?” Seems to be the question Jason’s been asking himself lately. There’s a minute of
silence, and Dick shakes his head. “Okay, that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important here is
that you found me.”

“I think I jumped out of the window.”

“What?” Jason can’t help jerking in his seat and Dick lets out a little whimper with the movement.
“Is that why you have the scrapes and the hair all tangled up?” Jason tries to twist his neck to get a
better look at him, but Dick refuses to take his face away from his neck. “Geez, Dickie, this isn’t
okay. You can’t fly the coop just like that. How the hell did you get to where I was… wearing
those—” Jason points in horror at Dick’s Crocs.

Dick laughs instead as if what Jason had said was anything close to funny.

“They’re comfy.”

“I’m being serious, Dick. We’re talking about you jumping out the window, walking half the city
to find me in the middle of a dark alley, completely alone—” the more he thinks about it, the more
horrified he feels. So many potential dangers; people driving recklessly, shitty people who might
have seen him and done something to him in his disoriented state. Jason doesn’t even want to think
about it anymore. “Something could have happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick says against his neck, tightening his grip on him. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Jason grimaces with his words, knowing it wasn’t fair to scold Dick for
something he had no control over. “I’m sorry about that, I just can’t believe you went through all
that trouble to find me. I see you almost every day.”

“Not enough.”

They’re both quiet for a while after that. Jason trying to understand why Dick would want to spend
more time with him, of all people. But he concludes now is not the time to dwell on that. There
were more pressing matters right now.

Which reminded him.

“I should probably call them,” Jason thinks out loud, wondering why he didn’t from the moment he
found Dick.
“Who?”

“The family,” Jason reminds him, recalling that it’s not a good idea to change the topic so suddenly
with Dick, who had a hard time following a regular conversation. “I should let them know that you
are alive. If they don’t find you in your room, Bruce’s gonna lose his shit and tear the city apart
until he finds you.” Jason makes a move to grab his phone from the coffee table, but Dick grips
him tighter.

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want to see B.” That spikes Jason’s curiosity.

“Why?” Dick doesn’t answer for a couple of minutes and then the blue-eyed draws apart enough so
they can see each other’s faces. And the expression on his face—the susceptibility and distress,
make something switch on inside Jason. “What did he do?”

“I heard him on the phone,” Dick starts to say, absently running his fingers over the black
undershirt Jason’s wearing. “He wants to get rid of me.”

Jason blinks once, twice. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t love me anymore,” Dick blurts out, clenching his jaw. “He was talking about leaving
me in a rehab facility.” Ohh. Shit.

“Did Bruce tell you something about it? Did you talk?” Dick shakes his head. “Uh, I’m sure he
was just looking at the alternatives, it has nothing to do with him not loving you anymore.” Jason
ends up saying awkwardly, for some reason making excuses for fucking Bruce. Because the man
could be many things; emotionally stunted, not good with words, and sometimes a real dick. But he
wouldn’t have Dick taken away, would he? “That’s why you sought me out?”

Dick shrugs and Jason stares dumbfounded as he lets out a sob. It’s so sudden and unannounced
that Jason feels his heart stop for a micro-second. He is motionless in place when Dick begins to
cry uncontrollably.

Jason had done his research and had read everything he could about brain damage and its
emotional consequences. Dick’s physiatrists had repeated it a myriad of times—emotional
outbursts were normal. Jason was aware to a degree of how emotional Dick was since he was
discharged from the hospital, how he now wore his feelings to the skin.

But it was one thing to know it and another thing to witness it up close; completely useless of doing
anything about it.

Jason wasn’t sure when was the last time—if ever—he’d seen Dick cry. The scene is horrible and
something Jason wishes he’d never seen.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jason says softly, rubbing Dick’s back gently to try to stop the tears, but Dick
just lets out another sob that goes straight to Jason’s heart. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what to
do to make you feel better.” Jason says helplessly.
“Don’t let— I don’t want to—” Dick barely manages to say between the sounds he’s making like
he’s having a panic attack. His black eyelashes are thick with tears, his eyes reddish and there are
fresh tears still sliding down his cheeks.

“Dick. Calm. I won’t let anyone make decisions for you,” Jason reassures, his gaze suddenly sharp
with resolve. “And I will not let anyone take you away.”

“You meant it?” Dick wipes his wet, stuffy face with the sleeve of Jason’s jacket. For some reason
the action it’s obnoxiously cute.

“Of course. I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding, but if it turns out to be true, we’ll drill some
sense into Bruce’s thick skull. He can’t send you away. I won’t let him.”

“You meant it?” Dick asks again and Jason chuckles softly, nodding.

“I’ll be damned if I don’t.” Dick chuckles with that and Jason has a moment of being confused by
the sudden change in emotion when Dick buries his head back in his neck.

“Thank you.”

Jason feels the words against his skin more than he hears them from Dick—and something warm
spreads through his chest again. Something Jason hadn’t felt in a long time, something he wasn’t
even sure he could feel at all.

But the quiet moment is interrupted by the ringtone of Tim’s number. Jason briefly considers
letting the call go to voicemail, but he knows for sure how worried everyone must be about Dick
right now. Bruce and Damian were going to fucking burn the whole city if they didn’t know about
Dick soon.

Jason takes his chances and stretches his hand out as far as he can, slightly shifting Dick forward to
try to take the phone from the coffee table, but the blue-eyed doesn’t stop hugging him, which
complicates a bit reaching the buzzing phone. After a few failed attempts, Jason finally grabs the
damn device and brings it to his ear.

“I—” Jason barely starts saying when Tim talks over him.

“Jason. Don’t panic, but we can’t find Dick anywhere,” Tim was trying to hide his concern but
was failing spectacularly. “He didn’t take his phone with him and therefore we can’t track his
location, so I need you to—”

“I know,” Jason says. There’s a second of silence and then Tim speaks again.

“How do you know?”

“I’m right here with him,” Jason replies, looking down at the mess of black hair that is brushing
against his jaw.

“What?” Tim inquires dumbfounded. “How did you—”

“We’ll do the questions later. We’re at my safe house in the Coventry,” Jason mutters, not at all
happy with relieving the location of this safe house. “We’ve got some talking to do.”
Oh, yeah. They were gonna hear Jason out.
 Words Are Just Words Until You Bring Them To Life
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason was finishing draping the thin blanket over Goldie when he hears the almost imperceptible
sound of his window sliding open, and because the room was quiet, it was easy for him to pick out
the not-so-subtle heavy footsteps heading in their direction. The Bat was deliberately making his
presence known, which meant that Jason has a moment to draw in a deep, calming breath, mentally
going over everything that had been spinning around in his mind while he waited for the Dark
Knight to show up.

It’s not easy to remain calm, but Jason feels like he’s doing a fucking good job when his first
instinct isn’t to lunge at Batman’s jugular. That could wait.

When he finally feels the heavy gaze falling on him, Jason gives him the same razor-sharp stare
back; a staring contest that both have become masters in performing.

With the only light coming from the lamp on the side of the couch, Batman’s presence could be
almost menacing; with the way his suit blends in with the dark and the most noticeable thing are
his white lenses. Tall and built like a building, Batman stands rigidly facing the couch. Any other
man would be scared to death by now, but not him.

Jason snorts derisively, knowing well that his face partially illuminated by the lamp is almost as
intimidating without all the dramatic bullshit.

When Bruce doesn’t seem particularly inclined to be the first to speak, Jason takes the initiative.

“What a beautiful night, don’t you think?” is the first thing Jason says, sarcasm dripping from his
voice. “A quiet, trouble-free night—”

But Bruce doesn’t seem to be in the mood for his taunts. “Jason.” He starts, warning in his voice,
but Jason makes an uh-huh sound.

“So you can imagine how surprised I was when I found certain Birdie wandering alone in the
streets, completely unaware of how he got there,” Jason squeezes the arm of the couch, trying hard
to keep his voice composed. “I only have one question for you, Batman. What the fuck was Dick
doing alone?”

Batman lets out an audible sigh and takes a seat on the adjacent couch—and in a completely
unexpected act—he pulls back the cowl to expose his tired face. Suddenly it’s not Batman sitting in
front of him anymore, it’s just Bruce, Bruce who looks like he’s aged 10 years in a few hours.

Jason doesn’t let that get to him, though.

“How is he?” Bruce shoots a concerned look at Dick, completely ignoring Jason’s question. Oh no,
Jason wasn’t having any of that.

“He’s fine, no thanks to you.” Jason hisses, unconsciously tightening his grip on Goldie’s shoulder.

Bruce has a little moment of susceptibility where he lets the guilt eating him away lay bare on his
face, but only for a second because in a blink of an eye the impassive mask is back in place like it
never left.

They spend a moment in silence, Bruce wordlessly letting his gaze linger on the figure of Dick
sleeping soundly with his head resting on Jason’s leg. There’s no way to know what’s going
through his mind.

Meanwhile, Jason feels his right eye beginning to twitch as the silence grows heavier and heavier.

“It never crossed my mind that Dick would try to sneak out of the manor,” Bruce admits at least,
his hands clasped in his lap. “At any moment did I notice that he had the desire to go somewhere
else.”

The world’s greatest detective my ass. What was the point of being the best if you couldn’t see
right through the people closest to you? If you were blind to the things going on under your own
roof?

“Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do,” Jason says.

With that, Bruce looks up, his brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”

“If you had paid attention, if you had your mind where it should be, you would have noticed
something wasn’t right. You’re telling me you don’t have a fucking clue why Dick snuck out of
the manor?” Jason growls, his patience running out little by little.

Bruce looks completely unknowing.

“For god’s sake,” Jason groans in frustration, massaging his temple where he can feel the headache
coming. “Can’t you think of one thing you’ve done to screw it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking—”

“Goldie heard you on the phone,” Jason says in the most controlled tone of voice that he can so he
doesn’t wake up Dick, but this is becoming an almost impossible feat. “He heard you talking about
taking him to a rehab facility. Does that ring a fucking bell?”

Bruce has a second of looking bewildered when the realization hits him. It’s so abrupt that Jason
can almost see the horror on his face, the closest thing to a startled Bruce Jason has seen.

“I had no idea Dick heard me,” Bruce confesses, a hand flying to rub his weary face.

“So you don’t even deny it?” Jason grunts. “Seriously, Bruce?” Jason sometimes didn’t expect
anything from Bruce and the old man still managed to disappoint him.

“It’s not what you think,” Bruce raises his hands to calm the situation from escalating in volume. “I
never intended for Dick to find out in the first place because it was only a distant possibility the
team of specialists and I came to consider. If I had only known—”

Jason makes his right hand a fist. “Well, what do you think, genius? Dick found out anyway!”

He can’t help but raise his voice and he mentally winces. Dick’s hand twitches in his sleep and
Jason curses himself. Knowing that he still hadn’t unleashed all of his anger on Bruce, he makes a
decision. Carefully, Jason manoeuvres Dick out of his lap.

Once Dick is settled comfortably in his arms, Jason shoots a glance at Bruce. “Stay here.” He
demands harshly and doesn’t wait for an answer to stride towards the room at the end of the hall.

Gently, Jason tucks Dick under the clean sheets, making sure the pillow is comfortable enough. He
lets himself have a moment to appreciate Dick sleeping peacefully and before Jason can convince
himself to stay a moment longer, he leaves the room closing the door quietly behind him.

In the living room, Bruce had stayed perched in his place, but now with an almost reflective
expression on his face as if he’s considering something too important. Jason returns to his previous
spot on the opposite couch. Without the warmth of Goldie’s head resting on his leg, Jason allows
himself to drop the pretending.

But this time, Bruce is the first to speak.

“I didn’t want to tell Dick about the rehab facility because I was afraid of how his reaction would
be,” Bruce admits and Jason finds himself leaning forward with his words. “I was afraid he was
going to get angry, or feel displaced. But maybe I was even more afraid that he wouldn’t react.
These days, it’s so hard to get a reaction out of him.”

“You’re wrong,” Jason states bluntly. “Dick wasn’t angry; he was hurt. Really fucking hurt,”
Bruce looks at him closely. “You didn’t have to watch him break down in tears, Bruce. You didn’t
have to hear how hurt he was when he told me you didn’t love him anymore and that’s why you
wanted to get rid of him.”

“He said that?” Bruce asks carefully as if he had a hard time believing it. Jason nods sharply, trying
not to think of the sound of Dick crying, or his wet, red face. “It was never my intention to hurt
him, nor for him to believe something so far removed from reality.”

Jason snorts humourlessly. “Well, Dick believed it. He believed it when he jumped out of the
fucking window and made his way over here, thinking you didn’t love him anymore.” Jason lets
his words take their weight on Bruce before he speaks again. “Why did you even consider the
idea?”

The answer comes immediately. “Because Dick isn’t progressing as he should. He is not dealing
with the situation emotionally and I don’t know how to help him. He’s stuck.”

Jason loses it. “You’re putting a lot on his shoulders again, Bruce. How do you expect Dick to heal
if you keep reminding him of what he lost? If you keep insisting him to be someone he’s not
anymore? Again and again, you are leading him to believe that this new version of him is wrong
and he must change to fit with what you need him to be for you and this family!” Jason yells, this
time not holding back. “You’re holding on to a part of Dick you refuse to bury. You’re the one
who’s fucking stuck.”

Jason expects Bruce to get defensive or angry, but his next question catches him off guard.

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Batman—no, Bruce, asks genuinely. Jason almost feels his jaw
touching the ground, but he recovers in time before his bafflement can be noticed.

“Stop being in fucking denial and accept that this person is still Dick, your son, with his new flaws
and mood swings. You got a fucking chance to start over, can’t you see that? You get to make
amends for all your past mistakes with him and fix your relationship once and for all. Don’t you
think that’s more than you deserve?”
His words may be harsh, but Jason knows the truth they carry, and from the way Bruce shifts in his
seat, he can see them piercing his skull. Message delivered.

And oddly enough, it’s like Jason feels a little lighter; as if saying what was on his mind had lifted
a weight off him.

“You’re right,” Bruce says finally and Jason arches an eyebrow. Just like that?

“Can you repeat it? I’m not sure I heard right.” Jason says mockingly and Bruce’s lip twitches up
slightly.

“You heard me. I’ve been avoiding the problem instead of doing what I have to do. I’ve neglected
this family enough; I won’t do it again,” Bruce stands up to head to the room where Jason left
Dick, but he stops all of a sudden as if a thought had occurred to him. “It’s a good thing Dick found
you. Thank you for bringing him here and for taking care of him.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason makes a dismissive gesture like it’s no big deal. But he is well aware of
how false it sounds, considering that Dick is patched up, wearing Jason’s jacket, and currently
sleeping in his bed.

Bruce turns around and then stops again, glancing over his shoulder. “Thank you, Jason,” Bruce
says quietly to then disappear down the hall, but Jason doesn’t miss the emotion behind his voice.

Geez, too many emotions for one night. There’s nothing like a good smoke to fix that.

_____________

It had never been his intention to snoop, but Jason had been looking for his extra pack of cigarettes
in the bathroom cabinet when he heard the screams coming from the room. Jason immediately
went on alert and raced over to the slightly ajar door to stop the fuss. He could only see Bruce’s
back with the cowl hanging, but he could see Dick’s distressed face wet with new tears.

“Dick, listen to me,” Bruce says softly, gesturing with his hands. “I—”

“Go away! I don’t want to see you!” Dick yells, angrily yanking the pillow from behind him to
throw it at Bruce’s face, but the swing is uncoordinated because instead of smacking Bruce, the
pillow ends up knocking down the lamp on the bedside table.

Dick freezes in place with the sound of glass breaking and then he lets out a whimper.

“I can’t even hit you!” Dick curls his knees up to his chest and hides his chin on them, his
shoulders rocking with his crying. “I hate you.”

Jason can almost imagine the face Bruce must be doing upon hearing those words. He must know
as well as Jason that Dick doesn’t mean it, but that doesn’t change the fact that hearing him say
that must hurt like hell. Bruce wisely waits some time for Dick to calm down before trying again.
“I’m sorry, chum. I never meant to make you feel bad or cause you distress. Jason told me that you
heard me on the phone,” Bruce says softly. “But I want you to know I would never send you
away.”

That seems to draw Dick’s attention, who raises his head from his hunched position to look at
Bruce with red eyes and rosy cheeks.

“If I didn’t tell you about it, it was because I wanted to avoid this, but now I can see my mistake.
It’s not okay for me to discuss such matters without you present. We are talking about your life.
You are the only one who must decide what you want to do; not me, not anyone.”

“You mean it?” Dick asks softly.

“Of course,” Bruce puts a hand on Dick’s knee, giving a soft squeeze. “From now on no more
secrets or things kept between us. I promise I’ll do better, chum,” Dick doesn’t hesitate to throw
himself into Bruce’s strong arms, taking Batman by surprise. Bruce stays stiff a second and then
hugs Dick back, wrapping his arms tightly around him. “I’ll be better—”

Jason soundlessly shuffles away from the door and no longer hears the next thing Bruce has to say,
deciding it’s too personal for him to hear. That’s between Bruce and Dick.

Giving himself a mental pat on the back, Jason climbs to the roof of his building to finally smoke
at ease. It was about to dawn; the sky was beginning to open on the horizon. It was a lovely sight.
Quiet.

Jason watches the smoke fading upward when he hears someone landing on the roof.

“Is Dick okay?” Replacement asks, standing next to Jason, who takes a good drag before
answering.

“Yeah. He and B are making amends in there,” Jason shoves his free hand into the pocket of his
cargo pants, freezing now that he didn’t have his jacket. He looks around the roof. “Where is the
Demon Spawn? I thought he would come screaming Bloody Mary.”

Tim chuckles softly. “No. B sent him back to the cave once I told them you’d found Dick safe and
sound. The dwarf has an important test tomorrow. I have to say, he wasn’t at all happy to be sent
back.”

“No shit.” Jason scoffs.

They both watch the sky begin to light up for dawn before Jason speaks again.

“I didn’t find him, you know,” Tim turns to look at him curiously. “Dick. He found me.” Jason
doesn’t know why he shares that, but he knows the distinction is important.

“Hmh. I saw the surveillance footage from the manor,” Tim says instead. “Dick didn’t seem aware
of what he was doing. I have no idea how he managed to disable his window security system. But
he did, and somehow he roamed the city to find you.”

Jason breathes a sigh and offers the cigarette to Tim, who shakes his head with a frown. “It seems
so.”
 “You can brush it off as much as you want, but you know deep down that something is going on.
The first time might have been a coincidence, yeah, but this isn’t anymore,” Tim says with
conviction, no room to argue with him. “Think about it. Where did this sudden ability to know
where you are come from? It all started when we found him that day. Or should I say, when you
found him?”

“Your point?” Jason asks without heat, all his anger from before now forgotten.

“Maybe this will give us the pieces of the missing puzzle. Maybe this new connection is the key,”
Tim tells him as he paces to the edge of the building and takes out his grappling gun, probably to
go see Dick two floors down. “Think about it.” and then he jumps.

And think about it Jason fucking does. He thinks like crazy.

For the next few nights, that same feeling he’s had in the back of his mind over these months is
nagging at him; it’s clawing and gnawing to get his attention. It’s like an itch that he can’t get rid
of no matter how damn hard he tries.

It doesn’t let him concentrate on anything, and it’s time-consuming, and distracting. Dangerous.
It’s not until he sits down to consider his thoughts that Jason finally understands what he has to do.

Because even in Dick’s most disoriented and absent-minded state, he went through all that trouble
to find him. Dick wanted him to find him. And that can’t be a coincidence. That had to mean
something.

Jason knows he’s the one that should take care of Dick. But there was only one huge problem with
that; convincing the others why he should be the one in charge of taking care of Dick when they
still didn’t trust him that much.

This is when the ‘Kairos Plan’ came into play.

Chapter End Notes

I hope you like the chapter ;) These days I had been a bit under the weather, so I’m not
sure if I like it much.
 Everything Effortlessly Falls Into Place
Chapter Summary

It feels like (everything effortlessly falls into place).

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Kairos is an ancient Greek word that means the acknowledgement of one special moment in time:
it’s the idea of the fitting, perfect moment for action. Even if he wanted to, Jason couldn’t possibly
find a better word to describe that fleeting instant when everything seems to fall into place on its
own. He still didn’t have all the pieces of the puzzle, but Jason could feel the crumbs pointing the
way to find them.

All roads lead to Dick.

Because in that moment of realization, it feels like the perfect time to act. This was something that
couldn’t wait any longer. And geez, it feels like the kind of decision that will have a radical impact
in the future, for better or for worse.

But if Jason wanted the others to understand his motivations, he needed a hell of a strategy.

For that reason, Jason takes a night off from patrol to carefully sketch every part of his plan. But,
how the hell could you make a person change their mind? How could you make them see you
differently when all they saw in you was the fallen Robin?

The one who came back crooked and damaged. After all, anger was an intrinsic, core part of Jason
Todd, wasn’t it? That’s what everybody said. But Jason knew he could be more than anger and the
‘morally grey’ character. Much more than what the world labelled him with. It was not written in
permanent ink. It was not carved in stone.

In that moment of retrospection, Jason knows he’s willing to make some changes. Not for the
world. Never for Bruce. But for Dick? He was willing to try.

What motivates him, that inexplicable sense of certainty, are key factors in his actions, yes. But
what truly, genuinely, draws him to go all the way is the memory of how good Dick felt wrapped in
his arms; that warmth, that total and complete confidence to trek halfway across the city to find
him, knowing that Jason wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Jason lets that warmth kindle inside
him, lets it drive him.

_____________

Jason may prefer to work as a lone wolf these days, and maybe under other circumstances, he’d
rather keep his cards close to his chest and do things on his own. But he knew that this time, as
much as he didn’t like to admit it, there was no way to convince Bruce without some allies backing
him up.

Red Hood approaches his first choice of an ally in the Diamond District, where he overheard
through the comm line that it was his section to patrol for tonight.

He makes his arrival known by scuffing the heel of his boots against the gravelly roof. Moving
closer to the edge of the building currently under construction where the hunched figure in black
and red is surveying the adjacent street with a pair of binoculars, Jason leans against the wall in a
relaxed manner.

“You need something?” Red Robin straight-out asks by way of greeting, his attention on a group of
five suspicious-looking men entering an abandoned building, no doubt to run some dirty business.
Amateurs.

“Can’t I just come and say hi?” Jason says sardonically, trying not to sound offended. It’s not like
the two of them have the best relationship, but Jason would expect the Replacement to know that
he doesn’t mind being in his company like he used to, and now they might consider themselves
allies - friends? Maybe not yet, but something. “You think so low of me, brat?”

Tim lowers the binoculars to give him a ‘seriously?’ look.

“Are you telling me you’re not here because you need me to do something for you?” Jason purses
his lips under the helmet, thinking about a witty comeback when Tim snorts and waves his hand.
“Don’t take it too seriously, Hood. I’m kidding, okay? It’s just that since what happened to Dick,
this is the most we’ve been interacting, no cases involved. You know?”

Jason knows it very well.

“Yeah,” he merely says. “Even without trying, Dick has the ability to bring people together, huh.
The moron.” Tim lets out a small smile with his words, one that he tries to hide by peeking through
his binoculars again.

“Dick and his mysterious ways.” Tim quips, playing along.

“Speaking of mysterious ways,” Jason begins, taking advantage of that choice of words for his
practiced little speech. “About what you said that night, remember? I’ve been thinking about it.”

Tim switches from thermal vision to night vision with a touch of his finger and then twists his head
slightly, looking at him sideways. Not even the dim lighting can hide his teasing smirk.

“Are you saying that you have finally decided to come out of your denial and are seeing things as
they are?” Jason is tempted to deny his state of denial just to piss off the brat, but he knows how
childish that would make him sound.

“I’m saying I’m giving you the chance to give me your honest opinion. Your hypothesis. And it
better be interesting, if not I’ll be on my way.”

Tim huffs, but nods after a moment, lowering the binoculars again. He seems to sort out his
thoughts before sharing them.

“I have some theories, but each one sounds crazier than the previous. However, we’re in Gotham,
and we’ve already been proven that the craziest things can end up happening. Coming back from
the dead, magical beings roaming the streets,” Tim shrugs as if what he was saying was something
regular folks said. “Somehow, intentionally or not, Dick has the ability to find you and vice versa.
Would it be crazy to think that they did something to his mind?”

Jason crosses his arms, trying to hide his discomfort with the subject. “Put it that way, it doesn’t
sound like a distant possibility.” He has considered it more than once, but the implications have
never sat well with him.

“So far I haven’t been able to find any indication of it, but the way Dick found you, that could be
our first clue. But why on earth does it only work with you?” Tim bites his lip in thought. Jason
would also love to know. “Dick doesn’t even seem aware that he can do it. Is it something
unconscious? What might be the purpose of doing this, some kind of mind control?”

“I don’t know, but so far it doesn’t seem to be anything evil. I haven’t seen Dick try to kill anyone,
that’s a good sign,” Jason can almost see Tim rolling his eyes under the domino. “We gotta keep
monitoring him, but Dick seems even more lost than we are, so I don’t know what we should
expect. We have to wait until Dick remembers something.”

“That doesn’t seem like the case,” Tim mumbles. “It’s been almost four months, and Dick doesn’t
seem to have the slightest desire to remember what happened to him. I’ve tried asking him, but
Dick always gets this ‘spaced out’ look—”

“Can you blame him?” Jason cuts him off brusquely. “After everything they did to him, after
everything they put him through, it’s a wonder Dick came out in one piece… That you can come
home today and be in his company is a fucking privilege. Appreciate it. Only time will tell if Dick
can recover any memory of his captivity.”

Tim seems to assimilate his words and then he lets out a groan. “I know. But you don’t know how
hard it’s to see my brother like this every day and not be able to do anything about it. Those to
blame are still out there, free of guilt. And we can’t even find them to make them pay for what they
did, for what they took from Dick. It makes me feel so useless. Some days, I can’t even look him in
the eye...”

Tim drifts off, his voice cracking for a moment, but he recovers quickly, a bitter laugh coming out
of his mouth. “And it’s so stupid because Dick isn’t dead. He is right there. And sometimes if I
look closely, I can see the Dick from before under the surface. But then Dick forgets to finish
shaving and spends the morning with half his stubble unshaven until Alfred gently reminds him
several times that he missed a part.”

Jason doesn’t know why he ends up being the one everyone turns to share their grief, but for some
reason, he doesn’t mind.

“I mean, we have to learn to live with Dick and his lack of memory, his mood swings and his
myriad of problems—”

“I don’t know if I can,” Tim admits weakly. Oh boy, Jason feels like he’s treading on thin ice.

“Okay, maybe not right fuckin’ now. But if you want to be able to do it in the future, you have to
tear down the idolization of the person Dick was and start from scratch. It’s like getting to know
him again, in a way.”

Tim runs a hand through his hair tiredly. “You know? You can sound like the most emotionally
intelligent when you try it.” Tim jokes and Jason doesn’t hide his chuckle.

When he is about to get back to the main reason for this conversation, Tim beats him. “Dick is not
dealing with the trauma. He has a renowned psychologist associated with the League who visits
every week, but who has yet to make any progress with him. Dick needs someone he trusts,
someone who has a stable mindset that can help him cope.”

Jason arches an eyebrow. Was Tim insinuating what Jason was thinking?

“Unless you get Donna a degree in psychology, I don’t know who else could be good enough to
help him.” Jason finds himself saying that genuinely.

But Tim didn’t seem to be listening. “We need someone neutral, almost stoic, like Alfred. Bruce
and Damian react a great deal to his mood swings, they still don’t know how to deal with it. It’s
only a matter of time before an argument breaks up and I don’t know how Dick’s temper would be
under these circumstances.”

Fuck. That could be a catastrophe waiting to happen.

“So you’re saying that...” Jason trials off purposely, curious to see Tim’s approach.

Tim gives him a serious look under his domino. “After the last incident with Dick running off the
manor, it’s obvious that Dick needs someone to be with him at all times. Someone Dick can count
on, someone who doesn’t hold him so high on a pedestal and who can bear with him the tough road
of recovery.”

Jason feels the anticipation stir in his stomach. “Go on.”

“As you said, I idolize Dick, and therefore that admiration doesn’t let me let go of his old self.
Damian adores Dick so much, but that same love is hurting him tremendously by not being able to
count on Dick as he used to. Bruce is trying, but you know he’s never been good at overcoming his
grief,” Tim explains efficiently. “The girls are doing better, but not by much. Alfred already has
many responsibilities. That leaves us—”

“With me.” Jason finishes for him. If Tim put it that way, it honestly put him as the best candidate.

“Dick trusts you, he always has. You don’t expect anything from him, which allows you to be
more neutral and will keep your emotions from getting in the way. Do I have to mention Dick
lights up like a Christmas tree every time he sees you?”

Jason lets out a snort, grateful that the helmet hides his probably flushed cheeks. “Dick may trust
me, maybe even you can do it, but tell me, do you think Bruce will trust me to take care of his
golden son?”

“Bruce wants what’s best for Dick, he’s done everything he can to make it so. I can’t speak for
him, but I’m sure he knows that you would never hurt Dick. He will conclude that you are the best
to take care of Dick.”

“You sound awfully sure about that.” Jason points out, trying to keep his body language from
giving something. Tim shrugs and then gives him a business-like look.

“Now the question is, are you willing to be the one to take care of Dick with all the good, the bad
and the in-between?”

“Yes,” Jason bites the inside of his cheek for answering so quickly. But he knows there’s nothing
to think about. “I am.”

“Great,” Tim puts his binoculars away and stands up, a smile spreading across his face as if this,
too, had been his plan all along. Jason isn’t so sure who planned it first anymore. “I’ll handle
Bruce and find an available apartment with everything you and Dick need. Steph and Cass are
definitely on board. You only have to handle Damian.”

Jason pushes off the wall. “What?”

“We’ll talk soon, okay? Good luck with the Demon Spawn!” Tim pulls out his grappling gun and
shoots it into the building across the street, and before Jason can say anything else, Red Robin
jumps to disappear from sight.

“A new apartment? Convince Damian?” Jason asks at no one, standing like an idiot, alone, on the
rooftop. “Shit.”

_____________

So far, the plan was progressing well, better than Jason had anticipated.

But he wasn’t considering himself the winner that easily, because Jason had no fucking idea how
he was going to convince Damian that he was worthy enough to take care of his Grayson.

Technically, the hardest person to convince should be Bruce, with his recent overprotection over
Dick. But Jason knew that Tim was a convincing son of a bitch, someone who knew how to make
his point and convince even the most stubborn person. But Damian? Jason had no fucking clue
how to start.

Technically, Damian had no right to decide Dick’s future any more than Bruce did. But if Jason
was going to do this, he’d rather not get off on the wrong foot with Damian. He wasn’t a person
that Jason wanted to be constantly watching his back for. No thanks.

Surprisingly, Jason isn’t the first to approach. The next night, after Jason comes home from patrol,
he switches on the light in his living room to find the Demon Spawn sitting on his couch as if he
owned the place.

“What the heck are you doing here?” Jason blurts out. “How did you even find this place?”

“I’ve been following you,” Damian admits like it’s completely normal and okay to follow someone
like a fucking stalker. “You’ve been too sloppy in covering your tracks, Todd. It was ridiculously
easy to find this location.”

“I don’t know why I’m surprised, but that doesn’t answer my first question. What are you doing
here? Why all the drama of waiting for me with the lights off?” Damian folds his arms, and Jason
notices for the first time how indecisive Damian seems.

Jason lets the brat take his time while he takes off his helmet and gloves. Damian clears his throat
after a moment.

“I know you and Drake are plotting something. And you both are so incompetent that you can’t
even be discreet about it.”
“And what do you know about that?” Jason raises an eyebrow.

Damian stands up. “You recently frequented the Diamond District, a district that you rarely set foot
in and that Drake often patrols,” Damian lists with his fingers. “Overnight, Drake stops moping
and returns to his old irritable self. He begins to act strangely accommodating with father,” Damian
says with an air of superiority for his observational skills. “And odder still, Drake starts making
appointments to visit apartments in the city.”

“And you deduced all that by yourself? Wow. Sherlock Holmes would be fucking jealous,” Jason
says mockingly, opening the fridge door to make himself a smoothie. “Just cut to the chase, kid.”

“I know you and Drake are planning to take Richard out of the manor,”

Damian snarls, a look on his face that Jason can immediately read: warning. Jason has to watch
what he says if he doesn’t want to have Damian’s katana buried in his gut.

“And don’t even try to deny it, or pretend that your actions are simply out of the goodness of your
heart. There’s a reason behind all of this sudden closeness and the way that Grayson so strongly
seeks your company. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Jason exhales heavily while he finishes peeling a banana, knowing this is his chance to bring
Damian to his side. He knows as well that he can only leave here in one piece if he speaks the
truth.

“I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. Why? I couldn’t say. But don’t think for a second
that I’m trying to get something out of this in return, or that my actions aren’t genuine just because
you think you know me. You don’t,” he growls. “But I do know that things need to change. Dick
needs to feel independent again, he needs everyone to stop hovering by his side 24/7. He needs a
quiet life, which he will not achieve in the manor.”

“And is he going to achieve it with you?” Damian asks sharply. “You can offer him that peace of
mind that Grayson needs?” Jason has no answer for that, because saying yes would be a lie.
There’s no way to predict how things are going to develop. “What makes you think you’re the best
choice to take care of Richard?”

Suddenly, Tim’s argument feels insufficient to convince Damian. Jason begins to put the banana
chunks and milk in the blender while carefully thinking about his answer. This is a test, he knows.
Damian is testing him.

“I’ve never bragged I am. Hell, maybe I’m not,” Jason admits. “I may not be the best choice, but I
know I can become whatever Dick needs me to be.”

Damian seems to ponder his words and then unfolds his arms from his chest. “Why should we put
our trust in you? Why should I?”

Jason slams shut the lid on the blender. “I don’t give a shit if you trust me or not. I don’t have to
prove anything to anyone. The only person I care about trusting in me to take care of him is Dick
himself. And if he does, if he puts his trust in me, I couldn’t care less if you agree or not.”

With his words, Damian doesn’t say anything. Jason thinks that maybe this hasn’t been his most
canny argument to put Damian on his side.

But after a while, the dwarf nods curtly. He moves towards the window and slides it open, but
before he can disappear through it, he lays his green eyes straight on Jason’s. “If Richard decides
that you’re good enough to take care of him, I’ll accept it without arguing. But listen very
carefully, Todd,” Damian lowers his voice threateningly. “If you do anything to hurt him, if
Richard doesn’t seem happier, I’ll deal with you.”

And then putting an end to the conversation rather dramatically, Damian disappears out the
window like a fucking shadow. Jason stays with one hand in the blender and the other resting on
the island, completely perplexed about what the fuck just happened. At least there was no blood
spilt tonight, which was good because Jason would have hated to fucking wipe it off his carpet.
That shit didn’t come out easily.

That meant now only two people were left, and Jason wasn’t thrilled to have that conversation.

“Fuck.”

_____________

Jason gets the text message from Tim on a Wednesday morning announcing that he had the green
light to go to the manor. Jason had taken a moment to mentally prepare himself and then he had
grabbed his helmet off the counter. Let’s just get this over with.

But while riding on his motorcycle to Wayne State, Jason can’t help but let his thoughts drift to the
worst-case scenario. It’s inevitable not to think that even with Tim, Damian and the girls on his
side, it wouldn’t be enough to convince Bruce. Jason wasn’t going with the intention of fighting,
but if Bruce made no effort to listen, if he wasn’t willing to change his mind, well, Jason wasn’t
against a good fight.

Jason parks his bike in the driveway, takes a deep breath, and then sets off straight to Bruce’s
study, chin high and every stride filled with determination. He doesn’t bother to knock on the
wooden door. Bruce was standing behind his desk like he’d been waiting for him, one hand resting
on the back of the leather seat.

Jason has the impression that Bruce looks collected enough—shoulders down, expression passive
—and that gives him the final nudge to get through the doorframe. He looks at Bruce expectantly.

“Hello, Jason,” Bruce greets and Jason stands next to a bookshelf, leaving some space between
them, just in case Bruce decided to lash out. Jason thinks about his opening line when Bruce clears
his throat. Jason is reminded why the old man is the worst at small talk when Bruce goes straight
to the point. No pleasantries. “Tim has told me about your concern about Dick. He told me that
you both think it’s a good idea for Dick to feel self-sufficient again. And that you offered to move
in with him to keep an eye on him. I presume that’s why you’re here.”

“Yeah,” Jason confirms, trying to keep his hands in his pockets and not fold them over his chest. “I
wanted to talk it over with Goldie, know what he thinks about it. But I also wanted to know your
thoughts about it.” He says the last begrudgingly.

Bruce frowns with his words, not expecting them. “Hmh. I didn’t think you’d want to hear my
opinion.”

Jason shrugs. “You’re his father. Dick may not admit it, but your opinion is very important to him.
I don’t want to make him feel like he has to choose between you and me.”

“And you and Tim consider that Dick can’t have a good life here at the manor? Here, with his
family, and the best medical care?”

Jason tries not to grit his teeth. If he wanted to prove that he was fit enough to care for Dick, he
needed to be consistent with his words. He couldn’t lose his temper. “I never said that. But Dick
needs company, Bruce. Not just a pat on the back and some comforting words now and then. You
and Tim spend almost all day at the company, Damian and the girls at school. And at night? You
go out on patrol. See where I’m going here?” Jason gestures with his hands.

“I’ve tried to be more at home. And Alfred always has an eye on Dick when I can’t. If you’re
concerned about the last time’s incident, I assure you it won’t happen again. I increased the
security of the manor.”

“So now the manor is a prison for Dick?” Jason asks in a low tone. Bruce gives him a flat look, but
before he can argue, Jason adds. “Your priority will always be Gotham; protecting the city and its
people. But now Dick needs someone to make him their priority.”

“And you’re willing to do it?” Bruce narrows his eyes, and he sounds almost incredulous. “Are you
willing to give up the Hood?”

“Temporarily, yes,” Jason says without hesitation. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered, you
know.”

“A few months ago you would never have offered. Can I know what changed?” Jason doesn’t miss
the wariness in his voice.

Jason knows what Bruce must be thinking. How is he going to give away his most precious son to
a person whom he lost his trust a long time ago? His greatest failure. A former killer.

Jason feels his jaw tightening. “People change, Bruce. I’ve changed. I— shit, I can’t bear to see
him staring out the window for hours without uttering a word,” Jason growls. “You and I may
never agree on many things, but you know as well as I do that Dick shouldn’t be bound to one
place. Dick needs to feel like his own person again, he needs to re-learn what he likes to do, and
what he wants to do with his life. You can’t keep him locked up here until he gets better, 'cause
that’s not gonna happen—”

Bruce seems about to contradict his words, because of course he is, but then he shuts his mouth
and looks behind Jason—and suddenly, a pair of arms wrap around Jason from behind.

“When do we move in together?” Dick chirps happily, seemingly more than pleased with the idea.

Bruce lets out a defeated sigh.

Chapter End Notes

Happy Xmas everyone ;)

 A New Beginning For Us
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

‘Thirty days. If in thirty days Dick is not convinced with this arrangement, he’ll return to the
manor.’

It was kind of absurd, to see Bruce—the Batman himself—admit defeat so easily. This was the
same man who would rather cut off his arm than yield so easily before Superman; before any
divine or demi-god entity.

But all it had taken for Bruce to be persuaded had been one look at Dick and his expectant, hopeful
expression, better known as Dick’s puppy dog eyes; the legendary weapon forged by years of
practice. Because of the favourable way Dick had responded to the prospect of moving in together,
Bruce had been disarmed of any argument he might have had against it pretty damn quick.

Bruce had exhaled heavily when he saw the firm hold that Dick had on Jason as if he wasn’t
willing to let go. And only when silence had stretched long enough, when the incertitude had hung
heavy in the air, had he nodded. No verbal confirmation, but Jason hadn’t needed one.

“Are you sure about this, chum?” Bruce had asked, each word laden with resignation knowing that
this battle was already lost.

“Yes, B. I am.” Dick had said. And those simple words had worked better than a whole speech
from Jason could have done.

Later on, his choice of words felt something like a monthly test. ‘If in thirty days Dick is not
convinced with this arrangement, he’ll return to the manor.’ Jason was pretty sure that Bruce
meant that, if he wasn’t the one to be convinced that this was the best idea, he would get Dick out
of the apartment. It was non-negotiable. No amount of Jason’s reasoning would change it.

And well, Jason knew when Bruce wasn’t changing his bull-headed mind. If the guy needed a
month to see that this was the best decision he could make for Dick, so be it.

Jason was already willing to do some changes to make this work.

_____________

Freaky, isn’t it? The way things can drastically change in what can be felt in a blink of an eye.

A few nights ago, Jason had been busy in a pursuit down the narrow streets of Somerset on his bike
as he was speeding after a stolen stock truck. Like, a week ago, Jason had been taking down a
small gang of drug dealers who were about to spread their product throughout the city—

And now? Now Jason was busy moving his stuff into a new place. His immediate attention was on
making sure the new apartment had everything he and Dick needed to make the transition as
smooth as possible. It was as if everything else had been hauled to the background—all his
problems, cases, and doubts—stored and catalogued in a small box to worry about later.

Before Dick’s injury, cases and catching bad guys had been his main focus, everything in his life
had revolved around the mission, around his role as vigilant, but now there was something else
stealing his attention.

Howbeit of how elated Jason had been about the whole process, the first time Tim took him to see
the apartment, Jason must admit he wasn’t an awful lot convinced. His first thought upon setting
foot inside the place was that he felt like a fish out of water—uncomfortable. Naturally, Timmy
Boy hadn’t escalated in expenses and had gotten a place too luxurious and wealthy for Jason’s
taste.

He should have seen it coming. Leaving your new place in the hands of a rich kid hadn’t been the
brightest idea. Jason had been ready to say a loud nope, but if Tim was one thing, it’s that the little
shit was an excellent persuader. Arguing in the same way that a real estate seller would have done,
Tim had convinced Jason to wait for the apartment to be furnished and with their stuff so he could
make a final judgment.

Jason had grudgingly agreed. He was going to pay anyway; it might as well be a fancy place for
once.

But by the following day, Tim, Steph, and Cas had worked together as a terrific team and had
already bought all the furniture and appliances (under Alfred’s watchful supervision and Bruce’s
credit card).

Jason felt like he was about to get a vein popped out in his temple with the speed at which things
were unfolding. How come you go from planning your metaphorical move-in plan, thinking you’ve
got, like, 25% of success, and then in a matter of days it’s done?

Life takes some funny turns sometimes.

Jason might not have been very convinced with the apartment at first, but the more he got involved
with the interior design and everything related, Jason started to see it differently; he began to
imagine himself cooking in the stylish kitchen, or the sight of a barefoot Dick with a mug of
steaming hot chocolate in his hand and Gotham and its cloudy skies in the background.

For the briefest of seconds, he let his mind entertain the idea of these hypothetical scenarios. What
this place could be—what it could become one day. And the moment Jason walks over that thin
ice, that thin line between fantasizing and being fixated, there’s no going back.

A short time later, Jason finds himself spending time comparing colour palettes for the living room
and choosing between polar bear or ivory palace which look completely the same to him, but Steph
claims they don’t. That day Jason learns there are like a thousand shades of white and Steph almost
persuaded him to paint the bathroom in a purple tone. Tim lost twenty bucks on that bet.

Four days after that, Dick’s and Jason’s stuff were already arranged in the new apartment. And the
next thing Jason knows, the day to see the finished apartment arrives, find out if he and Dick
approved it.

“Well, what do you think about it?”

Tim asks from his position on the side of the living room, not even trying to hide the pleased-with-
himself smirk on his face. Jason scoffs, putting his hands on his hips and glancing around.

The penthouse was the perfect space for two people. It had two master bedrooms each with a
private bathroom, laundry room, spacious living room and open kitchen for an unrestricted view of
the two areas. The custom Molteni kitchen was a delight to look at, with white oak cabinetry and a
marble island. But the most attractive feature in Jason’s opinion was the floor-to-ceiling windows
that wrapped the gentle curve of the building, offering stunning views of Gotham’ skyline and
skyscrapers. The sunlight pouring through the windows was abundant and lit up the place warmly.

Alfred’s advice about a restrained use of accessories allowed each object to be appreciated
individually yet blend into a whole, like the few paintings and ornament or two. It looked
harmonious, the sort of place that would give you inner peace.

“It’s all right.” It’s Jason’s plain answer, trying not to put too much emotion in his voice. What did
Tim want? A fucking speech or something?

Tim arches an eyebrow and gestures around them. “All right? Is that all you have to say?” That
little shit. Jason grits his teeth.

“It’s functional, I can appreciate that. It’s centric. And apparently, it’s Dick-proof. I might say I like
it if that ends up being true. If Goldie approves it, that’ll be enough for me.” Jason shrugs.

The modifications made for Dick had been consulted with his doctors. Grab handles in the shower,
closet and drawers with the name of each item inside so that Dick wouldn’t forget, a smart dimmer
system with motion sensor for those days Dick had light sensitivity and migraines. This place was,
hopefully, brain injury-proof.

Tim still didn’t seem convinced with the answer, though. “Just admit that you like it, Jay. I saw you
take hours to decide what colour you’d put in the bathroom, geez.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Okay, I like it. I fucking say it, happy?”

Tim gives him a smug smile. “Very.” He seems to let a moment go by in comfortable silence to
then put a more earnest expression. “They’ll be here with Dick in a second. I didn’t want to discuss
this with him here, obviously, so I just wanted to remind you about what we talked the other day.
About keeping an eye on Dick.”

“What about it?” Jason imperceptibly changes his posture, trying not to look ruffled. This topic
always bothered him, like they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Tim lets out a breath. “Given the nature of your newly acquired connection, for lack of a better
word, we are treading uncharted territory, right? We have no idea what this is about, how it works
or the gist of it. I guess it’s a good idea to suggest you slowly test it. Get to the heart of the matter
and the truth will come to light.” Jason gives him an incredulous look.

“And how the hell am I supposed to ‘get to the heart of the matter’, birdbrain? Play hide and seek
with Dick to see if he can find me and vice versa?” Jason growls. “Sit down with him to talk about
our greatest traumas?”

Tim makes a frenetic gesture, his mouth wrinkled in annoyance. “I don’t know, Jason. Like you,
I’m still trying to wrap my mind around this, okay? But I’m sure you’ll come up with something.
Only you can do it. Dick doesn’t act the same way with us as he does with you. Only with you does
he have this vulnerability that shows itself. You’re probably the only one Dick will open up about
what happened.”

Am I qualified to be the one dealing with that? Jason’s about to ask, but the same part of him that
says that he’s the best fitting for this, gently reminds him that he is. Maybe not now, but at some
point in the future, he’ll be. And isn’t that a strange thought to have?

“And what makes you sound so sure of that?”

“It’s just a hunch, okay?” Tim says more chilled out, putting a hand on his hip. “I have to believe
that this decision is the key for Dick to get better and for us to find those who did this to him. It has
to work, because if it doesn’t...” Tim trials off, saying the last more to himself.

“Okay. I’ll keep an eye on Goldie and I’ll be heedful of any weird stuff that may happen. If they
did something to him, it’ll have to show up sooner rather than later, right?”

An almost insightful look unfolds on Tim’s face like there’s no doubt in his mind about his next
words. “I’m counting on it.”

The small bell from the private elevator’s doors opening rings in the Penthouse, announcing
someone’s arrival. Jason fixes the collar of his jacket, trying not to fiddle too much in his place.
Despite his best relaxation exercises, none seem to manage to calm his racing heart, anticipation
stirring his stomach.

The apartment is soon filled with familiar voices, the rich smell of freshly made pizza reaching
Jason’s nose. What was once a harmonious environment turns into a whirl of activity. Steph and
Cas carry between them five pizza boxes and they put them down on the coffee table. Steph takes a
good look around and whistles.

“My gosh, it looks awesome!” Cas, who has a warm expression on her face, nods in agreement.
Tim doesn’t think twice before getting closer to the girls and tries to grab a slice until Alfred
reminds him to wait for plates and napkins. And wow, this has to be a very special occasion for
Alfred to approve them to eat pizza not cooked by himself.

“Master Jason.” Alfred greets kindly.

“Hi, Alf.”

As the older man moves towards the kitchen, Alfred gives him a small smile and claps him on the
shoulder. Instantly, Jason feels a bit more relaxed.

“Brown, you ordered vegetarian pizza for me, correct?” Damian asks carefully, narrowing his
eyes. The kid had one arm on his hip, looking up at Stephanie expectantly. He could look as
grumpy as he wanted, but his other arm wrapped protectively around Goldie took the power out of
his glare.

“And unleash your wrath if not? No thanks. There’s a box just for you, Baby Bird.” Steph assures,
a smirk on her face. Damian nods and leaves his place next to Goldie to get closer to the coffee
table.

Bruce stands at the side of the living room, satisfied at watching everyone pass the plates that
Alfred gives to them. His expression says nothing about what he’s thinking. Jason doesn’t try to
figure it out. Instead, he turns his attention to the last person to draw closer to the room.

Dick had a pleased expression on his face as he watched everyone fight to see who got the biggest
slice of pepperoni pizza. He wasn’t smiling, but Jason could see the relaxed line of his mouth. But
when Dick feels his gaze, his face changes and he gives Jason an almost shy smile.

Jason immediately likes that smile.

“Hey, Dick,” Tim suddenly says around a mouthful of pizza. Alfred gives him a disapproving look
and Tim swallows before talking again. “What do you think of the place? You like it?” Tim asks
gently, trying not to sound too eager for his answer. The room falls silent and everyone stops
eating to cast their attention on Goldie.

Dick bites his lip in contemplation, seeming to think about his answer. He glances up at the floor-
to-ceiling windows, and he must see something in there because his next words are: “I love it.”

Jason lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Everyone seems to loosen up with his words
and in no time everyone is back to what they were doing—chugging pizza down like they haven’t
eaten in a freaking week.

Then Dick strides over to the living room and everyone from their sitting position in the other
couches look at him curiously. Swaying a bit, Dick rips off his sneakers, tosses them carelessly to
the other side of the room, and then flops onto the couch. In no time he seems to fall asleep. Okay.

“I guess that means Dickie already feels at home, huh.” Steph quips after she finishes chewing her
pizza. Cas nods energetically and Tim quickly agrees. Predictably, Damian makes a noise of
disagreement.

“That’s highly illogical. Grayson could fall asleep even on a bench park. This is not a special
reaction.”

“She’s kidding, Damian. We know.” Tim says rolling his eyes and Damian shoots him a glare.

Steph then gets up and sits at Dick’s feet on the couch, gently placing her free hand on Goldie’s
ankle. “Don’t worry, Dickie. We’ll save you a slice of pizza.”

“With the way the three of you are eating, I’m not so sure,” Bruce comments with a little tug on his
lip. And with his words, a few as they might be, they seem to ease everyone even more in their
seats.

And for a moment, Jason feels his guard down in a way that he hasn’t felt in a long time when he’s
in a room with them. There are no reproachful looks thrown in his direction, no disappointed looks,
nada. Everyone’s busy with something else. And it feels... kinda OK. Jason then turns his attention
back to Goldie and wow, this will be now a view Jason has to start to get used to seeing all the
time.

For some reason, of all the changes that this involves in their lives, getting used to the idea that
Dick will always be in his personal space and his peripheral view feels like the easiest to get used
to.

Lost in thought, he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder and when Jason looks next to him, he
meets Cas’ kind, wise brown eyes. She claps him on the shoulder and then looks in the direction
 Jason was previously looking at—Dick, sprawled on the couch, already snoring.

“You’ll do fine.” She says, without pointing out what exactly she means, but Jason understands it
anyway. He feels a little smile wanting to stretch out on his face. With the way Cas pats him again,
Jason knows she could read the smile on his face.

“Hmph.”

Jason really hopes so.

Chapter End Notes

I wish you all a wonderful year. This is a short chapter to start the year, but fasten your
seat belts because the best is coming ;)
 Home It’s Something You Build
Chapter Summary

“The word poetry comes from the Greek word poiesis which just means “a making”.
So if you’ve made it, it’s poetry. Even if it’s breakfast.”

– Benedict Smith

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason finds himself humming a song while he’s cooking breakfast, the tune rolling out of his
mouth smoothly. Sunbeams gently brush his back from behind. A cloudless morning in Gotham,
what a rare occurrence.

Jason rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt as he heats oil in a small frying pan, to then put the
already cut tomato slices until they begin to soften. Meanwhile, he beats four eggs with chopped
parsley, basil and freshly ground black pepper in a bowl. Once the tomatoes are ready, he scoops
them from the pan to put them on two serving plates. Then he proceeds to pour the egg mixture
into the pan to make the omelette.

Soon, the odourless kitchen is filled with rich smells. Egg with a pinch of herbs cooking on the
pan, the smell of coffee beans spilling out of the coffee pot, freshly squeezed orange; all of them
mingling with each other to create a soothing sort of smell.

Jason doesn’t remember when was the last time he put so much effort into cooking something, it
certainly feels like a long time. But if something Alfred ever said that stuck with him, it was that
cooking could be more than an act to nourish the body; it could also nourish the soul.

Cooking has always been a stress reliever for Jason, almost as satisfactory as a punch connecting
on a thug’s face. And soon he realizes that cooking for someone else… feels pretty good. He’s so
deep in thought while flipping the omelette with a skilled flick of his wrist, that when he whirls to
plate the cooked omelette, he almost drops it. “Jesus Christ.” Jason almost snatches the kitchen
knife in reflex.

Dick was sitting on a stool at the kitchen island, staring at him like he’d been doing it for a while,
almost as if beholding something fascinating. Jason suddenly feels like an idiot for being caught
red-handed in such an absentminded state, but there’s no hint of mockery on Dick’s face.

He’s just staring at him, with his hair sticking in all directions and pillow wrinkles on his face.
Jason takes off his earpods and puts them in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Did I scare you?” Dick asks innocently and for a second Jason thinks he’s being sarcastic, but
from the way his head is slanted to the side, he knows his question is earnest.

“You just took me by surprise, I guess,” Jason says, still getting used to the idea that this is his new
reality. He clears his throat. “Anyway, did you sleep well, Birdie?” Jason slides the plate of
omelette and fried tomatoes closer to Dick, who finally stops staring at him to glance at his
breakfast instead.

“Yes,” Dick replies softly.

“That’s good.” Small talk, they could do it.

Jason grabs one glass and a mug from the cupboard. One he fills it to the brim with fresh orange
juice, the other with black coffee. He takes a seat next to Dick, who is poking the omelette with the
fork instead of eating it.

“I swear is not poisonous, give it a try,” Jason encourages him playfully, but he’s kinda anxious.
He knows from experience that Dick couldn’t care less about what he eats these days and that’s not
okay. Jason wants to make breakfast an important part of their morning ritual; something Dick
looks up to doing. “You’ll like them.”

Dick grabs the fork in his left hand and brings a large chunk of the omelette to his mouth, chewing
slowly. Jason waits patiently, suspense hovering in the air.

Then a sunny smile spreads across Dick’s face and Jason lets out a breath.

“I like it.” Dick decides, devouring the rest of his omelette.

Jason doesn’t hide his grin. “Good.”

He takes his fork and knife just as Dick eagerly eats the tomato slices. After a few minutes of
comfortable silence with the sound of cutlery clanging against porcelain, Jason considers it a good
time to start scheduling the day.

A structured routine is what Dick needed.

“So, can you tell me what day it is?”

Dick shoots him a glare like what he just asked is dumb. “Is Thursday.” And then a little less sure.
“I think.”

Jason bites the inside of his cheek. “Well, it’s Monday. And you remember what that means?”

Dick bites his lip in thought. When nothing comes to him, his shoulders slump a little. “I don’t
remember, Jay.” Jason feels something twisting inside him and it suddenly ruins his appetite.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry,” Jason assures him even if it doesn’t feel the slightest okay, but Jason
can’t handle that look on Dick’s face. “Today is your first time going to PT sessions in the clinic.
What do you think about that?”

Bruce had deemed Goldie not yet ready enough to leave the safety of home and Jason most
certainly didn’t agree. He had contacted Dick’s primary physiatrist, Lana Atkinson, and they both
agreed that Dick needed to little by little go back to the outside world.

As far as Jason knew, Dick hadn’t left Wayne State since he left the hospital. Jason didn’t know
how Goldie wasn’t going mad with all that time confined. It seemed awfully wrong to have a
person like Dick with his wings clipped.

Dick looks at him taken aback. “Are we going out?” He points to the window, blinking owlishly.
“Out there?”
Jason almost feels his heart drop. “Yeah. You okay with the idea?”

One second, two seconds tick by—and then a dazzling smile spreads over Dick’s face. It brings
Jason back to before when Dick smiled at him in that special way that made Jason feel like he
couldn’t breathe. But then the smile slips away and Dick bites his lip again.

“But... am I allowed to go out?” he asks warily. “Won’t I make a mess?”

Jason’s nostrils flare when he takes a deep, calming breath. He loathes the thought of someone,
knowingly or unknowingly, putting such an absurd idea into Dick’s head.

“Why wouldn’t you be allowed out? Of course you are. You’re not a prisoner here, Dick. Fresh air
is what you need,” Jason says softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know who the hell told
you would make a mess, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. 100% positive.” Jason says with conviction. Dick watches him for a moment to then nod
with a little smile. “First we’ll go to PT and if you like, you can go with me to the grocery store. Is
that okay?” With the way Dick nods this time more excited, Jason knows that was the right thing to
say. “Great. But first, it’s time for a bath.”

Dick honest-to-God pouts.

_____________

Jason realizes a few hours later that Dick was probably uneasy about going out again. Jason has to
remind him multiple times to brush his teeth, put on pants, and comb his hair. Not to mention how
hard it was to convince Dick to take a shower, to begin with.

He had to supervise that Dick didn’t break his neck while showering due to the muscle weakness
that he was suffering for some weeks now. That means Jason had to help Goldie by taking off his
pajamas, soaping his hair, and eventually spraying warm water on his face when soap got into his
eyes.

With all the delays, Jason manages to get Dick out of the apartment in one piece two hours late for
his session.

“Where’s your bike?” Dick asks as Jason leads him around the parking lot. He stops in his tracks,
causing Dick to bump into his broad back. “Ow.”

“I traded it.” Jason sheepishly admits, scratching his neck.

“I thought you loved that bike,” Dick says wide-eyed and Jason tries not to sound bitter about it.

“I did.”

Jason had previously meditated that riding Dick on his bike might not be the brightest idea. His
episodes of vertigo might be sporadic, but Jason didn’t want to take any chances. Besides, the idea
that Dick could let go of and fall off the bike—no. It was out of the question.
So bargaining his precious bike and coming away with a secondhand car had sounded like the
wisest idea at the time. Jason stands in front of the black 1971 Saab Sonnett III and wriggles the
car keys with a smirk. With a bit of work, this beauty would soon look just like in her glory days.

“Hop in, Goldie.” Jason knew Dick had a thing for classic cars, but instead of getting a grin as
Jason had expected, Dick was glaring at the car as if it were a sheet-metal monster about to wolf
him down.

“To this piece of junk?” Jason makes an offended gasp that makes Dick chuckle.

“How dare you? This is not a piece of junk!” Maybe the car didn’t look so well cared for but it was
in good mechanical condition. At least it was safer than a bike.

“I didn’t know you had a car,” Dick ignores Jason’s words, running a hand over the hood. “Since
when?”

“A week ago,” Jason says shortly, opening the passenger door for Dick. “Come on, get in.”

After fastening Dick’s belt and making sure the safety locks were on, Jason starts the engine and
drives them to the clinic a few blocks from the apartment. And jeez, Jason doesn’t remember when
was the last time he drove so conscientiously in his life, not stepping on the pedal at more than 35
miles an hour.

When Jason finally catches sight of the clinic, eyeing a vacant parking spot, he doesn’t hesitate to
speed up and ends up parking the car with a screech of tires that turns the heads of some
bystanders. Jason puts on the handbrake and looks at Dick through the rim of his sunglasses,
hoping for a glint in those blue eyes - some vestige of the past.

But that was not the case.

“You good in here?” Dick loosens his death grip on the door handle and lets out an upset huff. He
more or less flees the car and Jason drops his face against the steering wheel.

The rehabilitation clinic is spacious and welcoming, with well-maintained beige carpet floors,
white walls and long windows letting in plenty of natural light. The receptionist doesn’t even look
down on them for being two hours late. Jason doesn’t know if it’s because she’s understanding or
because Bruce donates large amounts of money each month.

One of Dick’s physiatrists, Kaleb Pearce - brown-haired, about 27 years old and with kind hazel
eyes, guide them through the different areas of the clinic to a section in the back with mats on the
floor and an endless number of different equipment. Electric treadmills, stationary bicycles, and a
line of shelves stocked with exercise balls of different sizes, resistance bands and balance trainers.

Jason is told to wait in the waiting area on some comfy seats for Dick’s session to end. He grabs
some random magazine as he flops down, watching Dick through a transparent glass start to do his
warm-ups.

Frankly, the magazine in his hands is just an excuse to keep his hands busy on something. After the
warm-up, the physiatrist has Dick lying on his side on the mats with his legs stacked on top of each
other, and he’s instructing Dick to raise his top leg as high as he comfortably can and then lower it
back down slowly.
Jason can see the strain that simple stretch causes, the way Dick’s fingers flex on the mat, and how
the mobility of both his right arm and leg are not the same as his left side. It’s not the first time that
Jason stays to see how a PT session goes, and yet, Jason always ends up feeling like shit. He feels
his hand clenching the magazine, and like his mind likes to mess with him some days, the
reminiscence of a lithe body in black and blue that moved with unparalleled, mesmerizing fluidity
flashes in his memory—

Someone clears their throat loudly and Jason tears his eyes off Dick and softens his grip on the
wrinkled magazine. A woman in a pink gown with red hair tied up in a high ponytail and big green
eyes looks at him pointedly.

“Are you accompanying Mr. Richard Grayson?” She asks, looking at her file and then back at him.
“You are Mr. Jason Peterson?”

Jason stands up and holds out his hand. “I am.” She accepts the hand and gives a firm squeeze.
Jason remembers seeing her in the hospital those first few months. She seems to recognize him at
the same time. “What can I do for you?”

“My name is Ava Hughes and I am a social worker. If I recall correctly, we met at Gotham
General when Richard was interned.”

Jason nods. “I remember.”

“I’ll be quick,” she gestures with her free hand. “A few days ago, Mr. Wayne informed me that
Richard now lives with you. Is that right?” Well, he admires her directness.

Jason unconsciously stands up straighter. “Yeah. We just moved in together.” She nods and
scribbles something down in her file.

“Excuse me if I ask, Mr. Peterson, but may I know your relationship with Mr. Grayson?”

Jason tries not to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. “He’s—” he stammers, not finding the
right words. What were Dick and him anyway? “He’s an old friend.” Jason winces internally at the
questionable manner of his words. Ava raises an eyebrow, not buying it.

“I see,” she taps her pen against the file, her green eyes fixed on him. “I must admit I was surprised
that Mr. Wayne authorized it, considering how secretive he’s kept his son’s condition from the
public eye. I find it strange that out of nowhere he’d left Richard in the hands of someone not
related to the family. If you’ll excuse my wariness.”

Jason gives her an easy smile. “I’m a close friend to the family.” Which was more or less true.

Ava narrows her eyes. “And yet I don’t have much on you. No medical records, no social network.
Just a certificate of higher studies at the level of a master’s degree abroad.” Jason can feel his fake
identity on the edge, so he tries to keep it cool.

“Someone’s been looking into me, huh.” Jason brings a hand to his chest in a dramatic fashion.

She gives him a sharp-edged smile. “If you’re free this week, Mr. Peterson, I’d like to drop by your
apartment. A social visit—”

“We’re free tonight. Dinner’s on me.” Jason borrows the social worker’s pen and scribbles the
address on a chunk of the magazine. He rips it off and gives it to her with a smirk when she looks
mildly taken aback at his accessibility. “Does 7:30 p.m. sound good to you, Ms. Hughes?”

_____________

An hour and a half later once PT is over, as promised, Jason parks in the grocery store parking lot
with a new goal in mind: impress the social worker and convince her that Jason isn’t a criminal.

He recalls hearing Atkinson said to Dick that now any ordinary activity could present a challenge,
one that Dick should use to improve his skills. That’s why Jason lets Dick steer the grocery cart. At
first, Dick has a bit of trouble keeping the cart straight. Every time he tries to turn right down the
aisles he ends up wheeling the cart very brusquely, but after a while, Dick seems to be more steady.
Jason lets Goldie lead them wherever he wants, comfortable to stroll beside him and grab the stuff
he needs for tonight’s dinner.

Jason has never been a very physical person, but when he catches sight of the way Dick’s knuckles
are white for clutching the cart, he can’t help but reach out and brush his fingers over Dick’s
knuckles in a way Jason hopes it’s soothing. The effect is immediate.

Goldie seems more chipper and Jason lets him grab anything from the rack that catches his eye.
Sometimes because of the bright colours on the wrapper or because for whatever reason Dick
wanted to grab a jar of pickles, even if Jason was pretty sure Goldie hated them in the past.

Feeling pretty confident because Dick hadn’t dropped anything with his slippery hands, Jason
lingers in the section of fresh vegetables to choose the best artichokes—and when he twirls around,
he realizes that Dick isn’t where he had been mere seconds ago. “Goddamit.”

Jason launches into action, looking for Dick in the nearby sections until he finally bumps into him.

“Dick, watch out!” Jason yells, but too late because walking absent-mindedly, Dick slams the cart
against a stand of neatly arranged soda cans—most of them fall with the crash and many explode
when hitting the ground, cans bouncing everywhere.

Dick looks shocked at his actions, and when he turns to Jason he has a distressed expression. “I’m
so sorry, Jay.”

Jason rubs a hand over his forehead. Aw, shit.

_____________

Sometime later, after paying for all the soda cans that exploded and apologizing, he and Dick had
luckily left the grocery store without drawing too much attention, hopefully. Being upset with Dick
never crosses his mind. How could he be? None of this was his fault. Jason was more upset with
himself for losing sight of Dick. But maybe Dick had taken his lack of words as a sign that he was
angry, because the moment they get to the apartment, Dick goes straight to his room and slams the
door shut.

Jason stays by in the doorway, his arms full of brown bags and with no fucking idea what to do.

In the end, he decides to give him some time and think of what he could say to make Dick
understand that he would never be mad at him under these circumstances. He begins dinner
preparations, wondering whether he should cancel it for another day when Dick comes out of his
room wrapped like a burrito of blankets thirty minutes later.

He sits on the island stool and rests his elbows on the surface, resting his chin on the palms of his
hands. “So... you’re not mad?”

“No, Dickie,” Jason shakes his head. “It was just a little mishap. I would never be mad at you for
something as foolish as that.” But Dick’s face still looks the very definition of uncertain. Jason’s
not having any of that. “Hey, look on the bright side. At least we weren’t in the wine section.
Damn, we would have been banned from the shop. Can you imagine B’s face? It’s only the first
day and we’d be banned from a store.”

Dick laughs out loud and Jason has a woozy moment from the suddenness—but he immediately
feels a chuckle come out of his mouth. The atmosphere changes instantly as if a switch has been
flicked, and Dick seems to put the incident behind him.

“Where did you learn to cook, Jay?” Dick asks, his voice thick with curiosity. Jason makes a noise
of thinking about it.

“Sometimes I had to cook for my mom when she couldn’t. Then trying to steal the tires from the
Batmobile brought me to the manor, and I liked to sneak into the kitchen and watch Alfred cook.
But I guess I boosted my skills by cooking for myself.”

Goldie nods with a little smile. “You have a favourite food?”

“Homemade meatloaf,” Jason answers straight away. The name evokes memories of that time
when his mom could still cook for him and wasn’t high on shit. On those occasions Jason managed
to pickpocket a rich dude to eat something. It’s a decent memory, of the few that Jason remembers
from his childhood in Crime Alley. “What’s yours?”

“I—” Dick seems to think of his answer. “I don’t know anymore.” He shrugs nonchalantly. Jason
wrinkles his forehead. “What are you cooking for dinner?”

“Artichoke-stuffed beef tenderloin,” Jason answers, preheating the oven. “Remember I told you,
Ava, the social worker was coming for dinner?” Jason says, tying his apron. “She’ll be here soon.
And she probably has a lot of questions.”

Dick looks at him in betrayal. “You could have told me sooner, Jay!” Jason bites his lip, not saying
that he mentioned it three times. It doesn’t matter.

“Well, now you know it. Remember we can’t say we’re related. As far as she’s concerned, we’re
old friends and that’s it. She’ll try to squeeze you the last detail but you need to stick to the cover
story, okay? And please remember my last name isn’t Todd, the dead guy, it’s Peters—”

But Dick cuts him off, no clue about what he’s saying. “Wait a minute. Who’s coming over to
dinner again?”
Jason lets out a sigh. They were screwed.

_____________

“You have some good culinary skills.” Ava congratulates him when they’ve finished dinner and
Jason gives a little bow in gratitude. He might have thought she was just saying it to be nice, but
she didn’t strike him as the type to offer compliments without meaning it. “I’m impressed.”

Jason refills her glass of water and can’t help but smirk.

“I hope now you can see that I’m capable enough to keep Dick well-fed.”

Ava purses her mouth. “I’m sorry if I was a little cynical at the clinic, it’s just that I take my job
very seriously, Mr. Peterson.”

Jason had been tiptoeing all dinner, trying to dodge questions like bullets. Thankfully, he was
pretty good at being evasive, not to mention Dick had zero interest in engaging in the conversation.
She had picked up the signs and so far she hadn’t tried anything.

“Peterson?” Dick asks out of nowhere and Jason gently nudges Dick’s foot under the table. Jason
clears his throat, hoping the social worker hasn’t noticed the slip, but she already has her hawk eyes
on Goldie.

“Richard, is it okay if I can ask you a few questions?” In the blink of an eye, she leaves her friendly
persona behind. Back to business, it seemed. Dick shrugs and she gives him a kind smile. “Where
do you know Jason from?” Oh boy.

She waits patiently as Dick struggles to open the jar and is about to snatch a knife to try to break it
when Jason gently takes his hands off, opening the jar for him. Dick grabs a pickle before
answering. “I’ve known him forever.”

“Oh yeah? So you’re kind of like childhood friends?”

“No,” Dick says with his mouth full. “But I’ve known him forever.” He insists again.

Ava furrows her brow. “And how would you define your relationship?”

Dick and Jason turn to look at each other.

“We didn’t get along at first, I can admit that. But over time things changed, I guess. We fixed
some issues. We worked together. So yeah, we’re friends.” Jason tries not to sound defensive.
Explaining these things to a stranger ruffled his wings a bit.

“So you’re ex-coworkers?”

If occasionally teaming up to fight crime in tight suits counted as co-workers, then yeah.

“We were on the same field.” Jason knew he was being too vague with his answers, but it was the
protocol; keep the cover story.
 “Can I ask you one last thing, Richard?” She says and when Goldie nods she continues, a
thoughtful look on her face. “Do you trust Jason?”

The question feels like a bucket of ice water for its bluntness. Jason knows that Dick trusts him,
he’s heard it a bunch of times. But, for some reason, he still doubts it. Ava and Jason seem to lean
forward in their seat, waiting for the answer when Dick glances at the social worker out of the
corner of his eye to then look at Jason.

“With my life.”

Jason clutches the napkin in his lap. He can feel the tip of his ears go fully pink.

Ava nods, looking more convinced than when dinner started but a glance at her watch makes her
sigh. “I have a daughter to pick up from my parents’ house, but I had a wonderful dinner. Thank
you both for your time. I’ll be in touch, okay?”

Dick cordially bids farewell and Jason walks her to the elevator, sensing that she wasn’t totally
happy that she didn’t get all the answers she wanted. When Jason calls the elevator, she turns to see
him.

“Before I go, I only want to know one more thing, Mr. Peterson. Why are you doing this?”

“Sorry?”

Ava gives him a questioning look. “Why did you choose to move in with Richard? This isn’t
something many people would do even if they were being paid. Why take this huge responsibility?
There must be a reason.”

“I—” Jason realizes he was never really asked this question before. At least not so directly. And
the answer ends up coming out on its own. “Because he would do the same for me.”

“I see,” Ava says, nodding softly. “Look, I know there are things that Mr. Wayne kept hidden
about how Richard was injured, and that he hired a private psychologist. But if you wish, I can
give you the number of a trusted colleague if you feel he’s not progressing. I’ll be visiting very
soon. Good night, Mr. Peterson.”

She takes the elevator and as the doors close, Jason heaves a sigh.

What a day, and it was only the first one. What was in store for them?

Chapter End Notes

<3
 Bring Me Back To Life
Chapter Summary

“How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?

Leading you down into my core, where I’ve become so numb.
Without a soul, my spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold.
Until you find it there and lead it back home.”

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The recovery journey is not a flat line. It’s fluctuating and uneven, and sometimes, it doesn’t mean
getting back to where you were before. Trauma changes people permanently in all the ways that
matter. Jason knows it firsthand. The road to recovery is not a beeline paved road; it’s full of rough
patches, curves and steep climbs. It’s taking one step forward and then two steps back.

The insufferable punk had put it very eloquently in the beginning. ‘Are you willing to be the one to
take care of Dick with all the good, the bad and the in-between?’ The answer had been yes before
and it was still yes now. But Jason had made the dumb-ass mistake of assuming for a delusional
second that just because Dick seemed so high-spirited in his company, things would go smoothly.
That just as in his so-called ‘Kairos plan’, things would effortlessly fall into place.

He’d been wrong.

Living with Dick was like playing a poker game and getting a hand with no matching cards. A
High Card. How was he supposed to make it work?

Every day brought a Russian roulette of emotions and reactions, each one so sudden and intense
that he barely had time to assimilate them. Every day brought to light a side of Dick he hadn’t
known. So many facets that had remained hidden from him, a myriad of unrevealed curiosities.

Jason never had time to feel the weight of monotony. No, living with Dick was anything but
monotonous. It was a roller coaster ride at times, shaking his entire centre of balance and leaving
him weak at the knees.

Jason had always been used to doing things his way. He had his schedule – his well-oiled routine.
He lived alone, worked alone and slept alone. End of story. After so long in solitude, he took for
granted that it was better that way. No attachment, no involvement, no strings attached.

There was nothing more dangerous than a man who had nothing to lose, after all. And for a while,
it paid off.

But that was no longer the case, the stakes were higher now – riskier. It wasn’t just him anymore.

As the days blended, though, Jason started to adapt to sharing an apartment with another person
with his schedule and routine. Slowly. Gradually. Like a forest turning auburn with autumn.

Until the lines between them started to intertwine.

From the beginning, Jason had known that of all people, Dick would be the easiest company for
him to get used to. He had always been in Dick’s shadow anyway. Learning his every move,
etching them everlastingly into his memory; first when he had been nursing a hero-worship of him,
then as he was trying to fill his pixie boots, and then out of habit.

On good days, Jason reflected on why he had been so concerned about this. Because when it was
good, it was good. It was feeling on top of the world – feeling like everything was within the
realms of possibility. A steady climb that made his stomach squirm in the best of ways.

But on bad days, Jason questioned his sanity. Because when it was bad, it was bad. It was falling
and falling down the rabbit hole without knowing where he was going to smack into, without
knowing if he would get back up being the same.

Maybe nothing was going to be the same again.

_____________

Click. The dimly lit room is illuminated with the faint colour emitted from the screen, two
presenters debating global warming and its imminent threat. Click. The frame changes, now to an
action movie with a succession of fast-paced, unrealistic fight scenes flashing across the screen.

Jason ceases to pretend he hasn’t been reading the same page for half an hour to finally gather the
courage to look up from his book. His eyes sweep over a face partially lit by the glow of the plasma
screen, blue eyes fixed on the moving images. Staring— but not seeing.

Jason could almost hear a pin drop in the stillness of the room until Dick absently changes the
channel again, yellow lights flashing. A documentary about wild birds— click. Jason brings back
his gaze to the screen, distinctive blue and black colours illuminating the living room. Another
news channel now mentions a new memorial some people in Gotham made for the fallen hero
Nightwing.

Jason lowers the hand holding the book, shooting his eyes to Dick, almost holding his breath.

Dick comes to a halt for a moment and Jason waits patiently for the images to trigger a reaction in
him. Nostalgia at the reminder, rage at what was unjustly taken from him. Grief, excruciating
grief. But Dick doesn’t shift his clouded expression, he keeps staring blankly at the plasma screen,
almost in a trance.

And then Dick reaches out and changes the channel again, white static seizing the screen. But Dick
doesn’t seem to notice because his expression doesn’t change a bit. He grips the remote in his hand
so hard that his hand starts to shake with effort.

Jason feels a twinge in his chest. His hands felt tremendously useless where they were laying on
his lap. They were empty except for a book when they should be holding a gun at someone’s face,
snapping bones or breaking teeth. He should be taking revenge. Red Hood was not particularly
known for being merciful to those who didn’t deserve it.

Jason can feel his self-control slipping and must take an anchoring breath, but the feeling is
overwhelming. He wanted to rip them apart with his bare hands, wanted to fucking destroy
whoever put this stray look on Dick’s face. Jason wanted to make them beg for a sweet death
instead of the hell he would put them through once he found them.
This numbness, this almost apathy, feels a thousand times worse than an outburst of emotions.
Jason would rather have Dick snap and rip the plasma screen off. He’d rather have Dick shout at
his face all his impotence than have to put up with…this.

“Dickie,” he starts, putting his book down on the coffee table and getting up from the single sofa.
“Hey, Birdie.” Jason drops to one knee, only vacillating for a second, but then reaching out and
grazing Dick’s hand gripping the remote.

A touch of skin is all it takes.

“Jay?” Dick frowns as if he didn’t understand why Jason’s face is pinched that way like when he’s
reviewing a particularly unpleasant case, or why he’s kneeling in front of him. “What’s it?”

You look so lost. How can I help? How can I make this better? But for some reason, Jason doesn’t
know how to turn that voice into words.

“I was thinking— about doing a Star Trek marathon. How does that sound, Dickiebird?” The smile
on Dick’s face doesn’t take long to stretch out and Jason tries to calm the emotions bubbling in his
chest.

Words don’t always come easy, but maybe actions suit him better.

In no time, Star Trek: The Motion Picture movie is playing. Dick has his socked feet on the coffee
table, his lap full of a bowl with a wild mix of ice cream flavours creating the perfect abomination
to give a dentist a heart attack – or to Alfred if the older man could see the crap Jason was letting
Dick munch. But a little sugariness didn’t hurt, much less if Dick had that enthralled look while he
saw the plot develop on the screen.

Who wanted to see the adventures of the crew of the Enterprise when Jason was busy beholding
every little twitch on Dick’s face? The softened curve of his mouth, the long eyelashes brushing
his cheeks with every blink, silky black hair tickling the hand that Jason had braced on the couch’s
backrest.

There was this air of calmness surrounding them… and yet why were Jason’s hands still made fist?
His muscles taut and bristling with restlessness? Why was there still that itch under his skin?

It was not hard to figure out why.

Everything in him pleaded to get up and put on the helmet, the emblem on his chest to ease this
itch. The only way to deal with those unwanted feelings had always been going out on the streets,
taking out his anger in an old-fashioned fight until his knuckles bleed.

What was he doing here, pretending to have something he was never going to have? A bitter voice
points out.

Jason hadn’t patrolled in days, and that unburned energy was growing in his veins, growing like a
ball of fire inside him – he felt like a dragon that was about to blow fire through his mouth. He
could feel the smoke in the back of his throat, clogging him.

But out of nowhere, Dick drops his head on Jason’s shoulder, taking him by surprise. A time later,
Jason feels his body loosen with the weight of Dick leaning against him, the warmth of his body
wrapping Jason up like a blanket over his raw nerves. Maybe he wasn’t doing anything heroic. He
wasn’t punching criminals or following clues: but he was here, bringing a bit of steadiness to a
person whose whole world was upside down.

He flexes his fingers over his lap until the knot in his stomach untangles.

Until he can finally take a deep breath.

_____________

Tim punctually calls him on a Wednesday as he does every week, a spare time in his otherwise
busy schedule. (The kid’s 17, for crying out loud). And like every Wednesday, after some
meaningless talk about their lives and the most recent cases, which is more of a courtesy gesture,
comes the usual question.

The original reason for the call no matter how much Tim denies it.

“So, there’s nothing new with Dick?”

Jason rolls his eyes at the pretended nonchalant tone of voice, taking a sip of his bottle and wiping
the sweat off his forehead with a clean towel. Today’s exercise had been a bitch. But there was
nothing better than exercise to ease the pressure throbbing under his skin. “Any major
developments?”

And like every time Tim asks, Jason gives him the very same answer. “Nope, nothing new.”

He doesn’t miss Tim’s defeated sigh over the line though.

He knows that the teenager always hopes to hear a different answer, and Jason can relate to that.
Some days, he wakes up and he has this mad hope that overnight Dick somehow will be better. But
that’s not how it works.

Progress is slow.

“Oh, I see. He still seems absent-minded for extended periods?” Jason scratches his chin,
considering his answer.

“Not as extensive as before, now it’s more sporadic. It depends if he’s having a bad or good day.”

“And what kind of day is today?” Jason is about to tell Tim how this morning Dick dropped his
cell phone to his bowl of cereal to see if it was waterproof when the story is interrupted by the
sudden clang of porcelain colliding with the floor.

Jason briefly closes his eyes. “Timbers, I gotta leave you before Goldie breaks all our fine china.”
Tim chuckles softly and it’s a nice tune that could almost make Jason chuckle too if he weren’t so
worried about Dick getting his hands on his baroque print mug set. “Next time you want to give us
a gift, consider buying bamboo dishes.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Say hello to Dick for me, okay?” Jason snorts, trying not to roll his eyes a
second time.
“Come and say it yourself, ass.” Jason hangs up the phone.

With a few strides of his long legs, he sets foot in the kitchen to find a broken dish with chips lying
on the floor. What draws Jason’s attention isn’t the mess on the floor nor the new monstrosity that
Dick has put together to drive him crazy.

What catches his eye is the smear of droplets of blood on the floor. They’re headed to a Dick
Grayson hunched over the kitchen sink.

“Dick?” With his voice, Dick startles but doesn’t turn to see him. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened here. I just had a, uh, little accident.” Dick keeps rinsing his hands under the
sink until Jason finally closes the distance between them to take a peek. “It’s nothing serious.”
Dick glances at him with a wobbly smile and Jason squints when he catches sight of the blood
dribbling out of Dick’s hand.

“Can I make sure it’s really nothing serious?” Jason calmly asks, leaning his hip against the island
and looking at Dick’s eyes. The blue-eyed regards him for a couple of seconds before finally
nodding.

Dick withdraws his hand from the spray of water and lets Jason take his left hand in both of his.

It’s not a deep cut like Jason thought, but rather a shallow cut of a few centimetres in the centre of
his palm. Jason furrows his brow in concern anyway. When his finger pokes Dick’s palm, Dick
lets out a whine.

Jason looks over at him. “Sorry, Birdie. Did that hurt?”

“It stings, duh.” Jason hums and guides his hand once more into the spray of water, carefully
cleansing the blood. Then he turns off the faucet and takes a cloth napkin from the counter, gently
placing it against the cut.

“Hold it there. I’ll go for the first aid kit.”

Jason hurries to the bathroom cabinet and when he comes back to the kitchen Dick is already
sitting on one stool on the island, waiting for him. Jason takes Dick’s hand and removes the cloth,
watching that the cut didn’t bleed much.

“It doesn’t need stitches. Just a little antiseptic ointment, a band-aid, and you will live.”

As Jason works, he can feel Dick’s eyes on him watching his every move. Looking back at him,
Jason realizes how close they are. He can feel Dick’s breath brushing his forehead, his body
providing warmth due to the closeness of their bodies. Dick is with his back to the kitchen island,
his legs spread slightly to make room for Jason to tend his hand.

The position is... intimately close.

“What?” Jason asks sensing something is running through Dick’s mind. Band-aid ready and in
place, Jason puts the ointment back in the first aid kit, waiting for his reply. But he stays where he
is, not drawing away completely.

Dick wets his lips and looks at his hand, and then back at Jason.

“It’s just... a cut. Why do you worry so much, Jay?” Dick shrugs as if he didn’t understand why all
the fuss about it.

Jason could lie and say he wasn’t worried, but lying to Dick seems so wrong. If he wanted to be
trustworthy of Dick’s trust, he needed to speak truthfully.

“I know it’s nothing serious. God knows we’ve dealt with worse things,” stab wounds, gunshot
wounds, broken bones. So many close calls it’s impossible to keep track. Their scars told the story
better. “But… I can’t help but worry.”

“But why?” Dick still seems puzzled. “Why would you worry about something so small?”

“Because I hate to see you hurt,” Jason admits.

He hates knowing that Dick is now so clumsy and ends up getting hurt every so often. He hates
that any little cut makes him feel like he’s failing him. Like he can’t protect him from the smaller
things and then how is he supposed to protect him from the bigger things?

“I’m not hurt,” Dick says in a stubborn tone and Jason tries to not smile. He places his lips against
Dick’s hand. “You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am.”

“You’re behaving like Bruce. All apprehensive and brooding over nothing.” Jason lets out an
offended laugh and lets go of Dick’s hand.

“Take back those words, Dickie.” Jason’s eyes sparkle with mischief and Dick looks at him in
defiance, chin up. “I’m being serious.”

“Make me.” Dick huffs, crossing his arms around himself.

Jason spreads a wide grin. “As you wish.”

And then Jason lunges, pinning Dick against the island to start tickling him. He gets a startled
laugh out of him and Dick starts to squirm, trying to bring his legs closer to his chest and block
him.

“Jay!” Dick yelps and Jason can feel his body vibrating with unrestrained laughter. “Fucking
stop!”

“The golden boy now curses?” Jason teases, tickling Dick’s belly. Dick howls with laughter and
Jason can feel his own laugh vibrating in his chest. “And you kiss your daddy with that mouth?”
Dick lets his face fall back, his neck bared and his eyes closed.

“Stop!” Dick keeps squirming and then out of nowhere he delivers a punch Jason doesn’t see
coming. “Time out.”

“Oww,” Jason rubs his right shoulder dramatically and Dick laughs again, more softly. “You
could’ve asked for time out before you punched me, you know?” Dick gives him a wide grin, a
grin that’s so Dick in the way it frames his face and makes Jason feel his mouth ache from smiling
back – his eyes like two crescents.

“And where would the fun be in that?”

There are these moments where Dick is so himself that Jason can’t help feeling nostalgic.
Glimpses, little reminders that Dick is still him. Maybe he just needs a nudge from time to time to
come out of the shell – to come out of the deep.

“Can you make me another portion of chips with Nutella, please?”

And then Dick says that kind of stuff and Jason has to groan. This was also Dick, he reminds
himself. Dick and his freakish cravings.

“The hell I’m making that for you.” Jason tucks a strand of hair behind Dick’s ear, flicking the tip
of his nose. “And don’t make that face. I’m immune.”

“Please?” Dick bats his eyelashes prettily at him.

Jason lets out a long sigh. He was not immune.

“Fine.”

_____________

Dick had made it seem easy to slide through the heights as if for the life of him, he couldn’t keep
his feet on the ground. As if gravity, for some reason unknown to Jason, didn’t apply to him.

Dick had been like poetry in motion – beautiful, captivating.

That’s why watching Dick fall was like getting kicked in the solar plexus, disorientating and
fucking painful. As if something was inherently wrong with the world.

Jason had been gone for a few minutes to fold the freshly washed clothes when a pang of
unbalance laced through the back of his mind. That’s the only warning he gets before he hears the
thump of a body tumbling down hard.

There was no time to think, Jason moves on instinct. He drops the shirt he was folding, hurriedly
opening the bathroom door and ignoring the hot steam slapping him on the face.

“Dick!”

Jason has the sudden flash in his head of finding Dick with a broken neck lying on the bathroom
tiles, blood oozing out of him. He can feel his stomach dropping until he makes eye contact with a
pair of wide-eyed blue gaze.

He crouches down towards him, not caring about the water still running and getting him wet. Dick
groans and Jason blinks several times to clear his blurry sight. Don’t fucking panic.

“What happened? You are okay?” Jason asks, watching with concern as Dick draws his wrist
toward his chest with a pained expression. “Where does it hurt?”
Dick grits his teeth. “Wrist.”

“Goddamn.” Jason has half the mind to reach out and stop the spray of water, and then as a second
thought, he grabs the towel hanging on the side of the shower and wraps it around Dick’s waist.
“Does it hurt a lot? Can you move it?” Jason shakes his head. “No, no, better not try to move it if it
hurts too much.”

Dick holds it out to him for inspection. Jason examines it without touching it, not noticing anything
swollen or out of place. “It doesn’t seem to be broken, thank fuck. We are gonna check it up better
in a sec, okay?” Jason brushes the damp hair off Dick’s eyes, clenching his jaw as he notices a
bruise forming on Dick’s forehead. “Did you hit your head?”

“’m not sure,” Dick answers honestly. Dick tries to bring his other hand to touch his forehead and
Jason stops him, wrapping one hand around Dick’s wet waist to try to help him sit up against him
instead of being sprawled on the soapy tiles.

“It’s okay. I just need to know if you’re not hurt somewhere else,” Jason explains as he struggles to
get his phone out of his back pocket. “Ribs? Hips? Ankles?” Dick shakes his head, pressing his
injured arm against his chest. “Okay, good.” Jason goes to his emergency contacts with one hand
while his other hand was stroking a circular pattern on Dick’s hip.

To calm who, Jason couldn’t tell.

Leslie answers after the first ring.

“Jason?”

“Dick fell out of the shower. He hit his head, but he is conscious and alert.” Jason reports quickly,
taking Dick’s wrist to measure his heart rate.

“Wrist hurts.” Dick reminds him, pouting.

“And it looks like he hurt his wrist. Let’s not forget about it.” Jason adds, his phone squeezed
between his cheek and shoulder. “His pulse is a little elevated.”

“If Dick is conscious and alert, that’s a good sign. I’m going over there anyway to be safe, okay? If
you can, get him out of the shower if he looks uncomfortable. But if Dick feels dizzy he should
stay there,” Leslie explains and Jason can hear her moving around. “I’m on my way honey.”

Leslie hangs up and Jason drops the cell phone from his ear with a relieved sigh.

“Okay, buddy. Do you feel dizzy? You want to stay there or do you want my help to get out of the
shower?” But Dick shakes his head, his eyes impossibly bluer for his wet black hair dripping from
the ends. “What is it? Are you—”

“Is it broken?” Dick questions and Jason frowns, glancing at his wrist tucked against his chest.

“I don’t think it is, Dickie. But Leslie’s on her way over anyway and she’s gonna check your wrist
—”

But Dick shakes his head again, his Adam’s apple bobbling when he shallows. “No. Not the
wrist.”

“Are you hurt somewhere else?” Jason doesn’t hide the concerned tone this time. “Dickie, you
need to tell me if you’re hurt somewhere else—”
Dick points his good hand at his chest, cutting Jason off.

“Me?” He asks tentatively. “Am I broken?”

Jason feels his throat closing up, his mind going blank. He feels water drip from the tip of his
damp hair, sliding down his jaw. His eyes feel oddly wet. He grabs Dick’s good hand between his,
brushing his fingers over the ink tattooed numbers on Dick’s skin - the stark reminder of his
captivity, of the horrors they made him go through - as an anchor to not fall that rabbit hole and
drag Dick with him.

Don’t lose it, Todd.

“Why would you think that?” Jason manages to ask when he finds his voice, but it comes out more
like a whisper only Dick can hear.

Dick’s face is wrinkled with tense lines that make him look much older, and tired. “I break
everything I touch. I can’t even take a shower alone without tripping, Jay. I’m broken—”

“No,” Jason shakes his head, looking Dick in the eye he says: “You’re not broken, Dick. Listen to
me very closely; you are a whole. You’re not broken pieces of porcelain or uncoordinated feet.
Yeah, you got knocked down pretty bad, but that doesn’t mean it’s gonna be like this forever. It’ll
be fine, okay?”

“You think?” Dick asks unconvincingly and Jason nods earnestly.

“I know.”

_____________

The table is occupied with enough weapons to take down a small army. Gun cases are pilled on top
of each other, a gun cleaning kit is spread over an old towel, and his hands are protected with latex
gloves. Jason has been cleaning his weapons all afternoon, an activity that allows him to focus on a
task instead of letting his mind wander.

A routine cleaning that has become a distraction from his tornado of feelings.

Jason is wiping down with a dry cloth the barrel of his gun instead of answering Tim’s calls. He
felt grumpy, frustrated. The mere thought of Dick’s words makes him want to punch a hole into the
wall.

His gloved hands shake as they hold his gun and Jason takes a slow breath, practising a breathing
exercise when he hears the elevator bell announcing someone’s arrival. Seconds later, there is a
soft knock on the door. His first instinct is to simply pretend he hasn’t heard anything and continue
his anti-stress activity. If it was one of the bats, Jason knew that at any moment they would open
the door with the key that Jason had absolutely never given them. And if it was some neighbour,
they would eventually give up after a few minutes with no response.
 Another knock on the door and Jason slams his gun against the table, clenching his jaw. Dick, from
his position on the couch as he tries to play on his Nintendo Switch with one hand, looks at him
inquisitively.

“Someone is knocking on the door,” Dick announces. Jason can’t help but snort. “Did you know?”

“Yes, Dickie. I’m aware. I’m ignoring them on purpose.”

Dick frowns. “But you don’t even know who’s knocking.”

“I don’t care. They’ll get tired eventually.”

“Could be Dami.”

“I won’t open especially if it’s that little shit behind the door.”

Jason knows that maybe he’s being a bit immature, but he didn’t want to see anyone right now. He
didn’t want any more reproachful looks; he already had enough with the ones reflected in the
mirror.

But a new knock makes him groan and have no choice but to rip off his gloves and head towards
the small corridor that leads to the door. Just before he gets there, there’s a new knock and Jason
loses it.

“For the love of God, if you knock again I’m gonna kick your little gremlin ass—” Jason jerks
open the door to find it free of gremlins or punks. Instead, brown eyes pierce him with their
intensity.

Donna Troy gives him an amused grin from her position in the hallway, her hands casually tucked
in the pockets of her jeans.

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t a gremlin.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for being patient. I’m sorry for being so late. I usually never take that long
to update. NEVER. But major circumstances stopped me from being able to sit down
and finish the chapter.

I appreciate each of your comments and I realized that without them I wouldn’t have
been able to keep going. You are my motivator ❤

Title chapter inspired on the song «Bring Me to Life» by Evanescence.

 I Fall Without My Wings
Chapter Summary

Every time I try to fly (I fall without my wings).

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“And here we are.”

Donna announces in a tone that doesn’t hide her contentment, standing in front of a quaint and old-
looking little ice cream shop called ‘Dairies N’ Berries’ – to the left, there’s some worn mint green
benches and a brightly coloured menu hanging from the wall.

Donna leans her head against Dick’s shoulder for a second and Jason realizes that the two of them
have been attached hip to hip from basically the first hug back in the apartment when Dick
wrapped his big arms around Donna and she laced her fingers in the curls of his neck
affectionately.

It’s hard to forget the moment Dick looked up and his eyes lit up when he saw Donna. At the time,
Jason had looked the other way, feeling it was a too intimate moment between best friends –
brothers forged over the years.

Not for the first time since they walked the short distance from the apartment to the ice cream
shop, Jason mulls over if his presence is needed. What else was he doing here apart from being the
third wheel? He and Donna weren’t close. Their interactions weren’t more than kind regards once
in a while; small conversations in those distant times where Jason had been still Robin, and more
recently when she had been visiting the manor to see Dick.

Not only that, Jason still wasn’t sure if Donna trusted him completely, keeping in mind that killing
streak back when Jason had come back to Gotham to wreak havoc and sweep the floor underneath
Bruce with his return from the dead. The good ol’ days.

But putting aside the hypothetical lack of trust, Dick had insisted that he should go with them.
Nonetheless, Jason was missing out on why Dick would want him there, bearing in mind they
spend all the time together. It was true though, that the more time passed, the harder it was for
Jason to deny Dick anything.

“We used to come here in our Titans era,” Donna tells Jason in a quiet voice, and somewhat it
served as a subtle reminder to Dick and his sometimes murky memory. “It was like a routine,
coming here every time we had a rough week.”

Dick stands in front of the curved glass of the cooler and glances at the variety of ice cream
flavours. Donna, on the other hand, looks directly at the vendor, as if she already knows all the
available flavours by heart.
“Hey, Antoine,” Donna greets jovially and the older man smiles at her. Jason can’t help but
wonder how many times Dick and Donna have frequented this ice cream shop to get such a fond
smile. “It’s been a while, I’m afraid.”

“Donna, dear, I was starting to worry that you didn’t come to visit this old man. I’m glad to have
you back.” Antoine then shifts his attention to Dick with the same smile. “Dick, how are you, my
boy? I haven’t heard from you recently, not even in those silly magazines. You’ve been off the
radar. I hope you haven’t gotten into any trouble.”

Dick looks up and stares at him for several seconds, most likely not quite remembering the old
salesman.

“Off the radar? I haven’t been off Bruce’s radar.” Dick answers hesitantly and the older man’s
moustache twitches in bewilderment.

“He means that you haven’t made public appearances like you used to, nor that much has been
heard from you,” Donna patiently explains to Dick and then to the salesman she says, “He hasn’t
been in Gotham these past few months. He’s been travelling a lot.”

Absent for business abroad, the cover story Bruce has been feeding the vultures – better known as
the press – every time his first child’s name is brought up.

The alibi doesn’t seem too credible for the older man, but he nods softly without inquiring more. “I
hope you find your way back here more often, my boy. The city is not the same without you.”

“I’ll try,” Dick promises, a little smile on his face.

Donna wraps an arm around Dick’s shoulders. “It’s been a tough week, that’s all.”

Jason snorts. Huh, a tough week? How about a tough last few months? Hell, years?

Antoine rubs his hands together in anticipation. “In that case, I have the best remedy for that. Three
special orders are coming.”

Turns out the ‘remedy’ was a vanilla ice cream swirled with toffee sauce, pecan nuts, chocolate,
biscuit and more toffee. Jason looks dubiously at the cavity-causing monstrosity on his hands until
Donna nudges him towards the benches, a smirk on her face.

“You’re not from Gotham if you haven’t tried this chef-d’oeuvre.”

And well, curiosity piqued, Jason takes a seat on said benches. Sitting down, Jason has a moment
of alarm when the old wood groans under his bulk. Jason shifts slightly in his seat, testing the
strength. When the wood doesn’t splinter, he finally relaxes into his seat feeling Donna’s amused
gaze on him.

Thank goodness the moment Dick decides to try his ice cream, drawing the attention away from
him. Donna watches him with a small smile, her eyes intent on his reaction as if she’s waiting for
something to happen. And then it happens. Dick chuckles, looking at Donna fondly.
“I remember the last time we came; we were on a mission in… Argentina? I think? And the first
thing we did when we got to Gotham was come straight here, not even the Manor.” Donna nods
satisfied, savouring her ice cream.

“You got it right.” She says simply, a note of pride in her tone.

Dick shrugs, biting his ice cream. “The memory came to me.”

Jason tries the ice cream to cover up his daze, and in the end, he is also surprised by how good it
tastes. He would think that all the flavours blended would overshadow each other, but they
amazingly, don’t.

“And…?” Donna can’t help but ask and Jason shrugs, though his smile is noticeable.

“Not bad.”

There is a brief period of silence where everyone enjoys their ice cream until Donna breaks it,
brushing her fingers over Dick’s wrist brace. “I’m curious, Boy Wonder. How did this happen?”

Dick stops licking his fingers abruptly, tugging his hand away. “I fell,” he mutters stiffly. Donna is
about to ask something else but Dick continues with a disgruntled tone. “I’m fine, Donna. It’s just a
stupid sprain.”

“I never said you weren’t.”

“I know. How’s everyone?”

“Missing you, as usual,” Donna says gently, unaffected by the drastic change in conversation. “But
everyone is fine. Garth and I just got back from a mission. So I took the liberty of coming to see
you. I wanted to see the new place.”

“And what did you think?” Dick asks interrogatively, his head tilted.

“It’s a very nice place you have, guys. Very cozy.”

“Thank you,” Jason says from the edge of his ice cream cone.

“Timmy picked it, you know? They all helped us move.” Dick comments eagerly, forgetting his
previous mood. “Even Bruce.”

“Yeah?” Donna asks, tilting her face towards Dick. “Your brother knows you well. The apartment
reminds me a little of your room in the Tower, remember? You’ve always liked a place with a high
view.”

Dick looks down, fiddling with his fingers distractedly.

“Heights... make me feel safe.”

Donna takes a premeditated bite of the last of her ice cream. “And you feel the same here?”

The question wasn’t subtle at all, even if Donna’s voice was nonchalant. But Jason was good at
reading between the lines, and he could pick up the real question: does living there with Jason
makes you feel the same?
“I feel…” Dick purses his mouth, trying to find the right word. Jason finds himself leaning forward
slightly, interested in the answer. “protected.”

“Mm-uh?”

“Yeah,” Dick replies, looking at a random spot on the wooden bench. Then he looks up and
connects his blue eyes with Jason’s. “I feel safe.”

Jason looks away. You feel safe even when you end up hurting yourself on my watch? Jason is
about to blurt out loud, but he doesn’t dare to. The guilt still feels like fresh paint sticking to his
fingers.

Donna looks at the two of them knowingly and then nods, keeping her thoughts to herself. She just
comments a simple, “Good to know.”

_____________

Time moves pleasantly. Even though the weather was crisp and the sky was sunless, the afternoon
felt enjoyable sitting on those old benches, contemplating life whirling around them.

Jason had thought his presence would be a bother, that awkward silences would stretch for minutes
now without Dick trying to fill them up. But several hours later, it was obvious he had been wrong.
Donna was someone who was extremely easy to talk to about anything, someone who kept the
conversation flowing in an entertaining way. She was sarcastic and quick-witted. Now Jason could
understand why Dick talked so much about her.

But what struck Jason the most wasn’t her charming nature, nor her wicked sense of humour, but
the way she treated Dick. Jason had seen enough interactions with Dick’s close friends to notice
the clear difference between them and Donna.

Jason had seen the way almost everyone – maybe even himself sometimes – tiptoed around Dick.
Never bringing up what had happened to him, careful with their words, never mentioning things
that could trigger him.

They treated Dick like cracked glass on the verge of breaking. But not Donna.

Not only she purposely brought anecdotes that challenged Dick’s bad memory, but she also asked
about the first thing Dick remembered when he woke up in the hospital and what he thought of
therapy so far. A bunch of questions that frankly, Jason hadn’t had the balls to ask himself.

She knew how to catch Dick’s attention, keeping him in the present and not drifting. Donna not
only treated him as if nothing had happened, but she seemed to bring him back. She knew how to
handle mood swings nicely – and most importantly, she didn’t look at Dick with pity in her eyes.

The more Jason watched, the more he pondered how she could make it look so effortless.

“—but that wasn’t the worst, I remember that time Zatanna had to bewitch Dick so he couldn’t
speak at the demand of a villain to free us. Oh, his face. All the way back to the tower he didn’t
stop glaring at Zee.”

Jason tries not to chuckle with the mental image of that moment. Dick, on the other hand, didn’t
seem so amused by the old memory.

“It was humiliating and cruel,” Dick huffs, furrowing his brow. “Why are you bringing it up?”

“If we’re sharing the greatest screw-ups in our Titans years, we couldn’t miss that story.”

“I would have liked to see that.” Jason comments and Dick turns his offended gaze on him now.

“Why are you two against me?”

Jason can’t hide his chuckle this time with Dick’s scowling face, holding back the itch to stretch
out his hand and soften the lines on Dick’s forehead. He was clearly joking. Perhaps at some point
in the past, the spell would have seemed useful to him, but not anymore. Listening to Dick talk
about anything was something that Jason was growing fond of.

This was the third lap they had given to the park just a street away from the ice cream shop and the
stories about disasters that had happened in missions kept coming out.

Funny. Jason had always pictured Dick as this flawless leader who always knew what to do, who
was always right in his choices. But Jason had forgotten that by then Dick had only been 18 and
was already carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Donna gives Dick a grin. “Nobody is against you, Boy Wonder. We’re just remembering good
memories—”

“Good memories?” Dick cuts Donna off incredulously. “You don’t see me laughing, do you? I
don’t go around telling embarrassing stories about you—” but Donna doesn’t answer because a
ball comes out of the bushes straight into an unaware Dick Grayson.

Jason grabs Dick by the collar of his jacket, ready to drag him back slightly but Donna beats him,
smoothly catching the ball with her hand mere inches from Dick’s face. An 8-year-old-something
boy comes out of the bushes with wide eyes and a hand over his mouth.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kick it out so high!” And then before any of them could say
something, the boy says in awe, “Wow. What a catch, ma’am. How did you do to catch it so fast?”

“I have good reflexes,” Donna replies with a wink.

“Awesome,” the boy smiles then, he’s missing his upper incisor tooth. “Could you pass me my
ball?”

Dick bends over and grabs the ball before Jason could reply, then kicks it towards the kid. But
instead of being a short kick, somehow, Dick kicks the ball so hard that he shoots it out into the
treetops to disappear from sight.

Jason winces as he waits for the boy’s reaction. And Dick’s.

“Oh no. I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean to…” Dick tugs at his hair tightly and Jason quickly
place a calming hand on his back.

“Hey, it was an accident. Don’t worry, we’ll get him a new ball—”

“Wow, sir. You are a terrible kicker. Even worse than me!”

The boy says at the same time as Jason, his tone playful and not upset. Dick covers his mouth to
muffle his laughter and when Jason turns in search of Donna to share the funny smile, she isn’t
there.

“Where’s Donna?” Jason asks out loud and the three of them spin their heads in different
directions.

After a few seconds of looking for her, Jason spots her. She’s strolling towards them in all her
amazon glory, with the missing ball tucked under her arm and some leaves tangled in her long hair.
It’s not hard to figure out where she climbed to get the ball from.

“Here it is, safe and sound.” She hands it to the boy who seems to vibrate with refreshed energy.

“Thank you, ma’am!” Then the kid directs his brownish eyes and grin at Dick. “Would you like to
practice throwing the ball with me?”

Dick opens his mouth like a fish and scratches his neck. Then he watches as the boy looks at him
expectantly and he gives him a sheepish smile.

“Sure?”

_____________

It doesn’t take long for the giggles to reach his ears and Jason smirks to himself. It’s getting late,
but the park is bustling with activity. Children playing in the playground, people walking their
pets, hot dog carts serving steaming snacks and sodas. Jason remembers that back then at this time
everyone would have already left the park. It’s not safe, moms would tell their children. It still
wasn’t totally safe, but this was a decent neighbourhood. The kids of Crime Alley knew better than
to go near a park at this time.

Jason takes a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lights it, blowing the smoke upwards. A few
feet away, Dick and the boy were passing the ball to each other. Feeling the instant relief of the
nicotine, Jason gets the courage to finally speak his mind.

“How do you do it?”

Donna raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” She asks, probably fairly aware of what Jason means, but
wanting him to phrase the question properly.

“Keep Dick so stuck in the present,” Jason begins to express in words his train of thought. “Having
you here has an effect on him. It’s the way Dick behaves with you like he doesn’t with anyone else.
The ease with which you make him remember little things. How can you make it look so easy?”

“Easy.” Donna rolls the word in her mouth cynically. “You think it’s easy,” she continues. “But
you don’t know how many minutes it took me to have the guts to open the door of his bedroom,
how much I pleaded for my best friend to recognize me.” Donna looks at him. “You think it’s easy
to watch him struggle with things he used to do with his eyes closed and not burst into tears?”

“No,” Jason rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, heaving a sigh. “Sorry for the stupid
question.”

Donna snorts humourlessly. “Is not stupid. We assume things all the time because assuming is
easier than asking. Because sometimes we are afraid to hear the answer.” She says. “But the truth
is it’s not easy, Jason. I wish I could say it is, but life is not easy, much less fair.”

Jason takes another drag on his cigarette. “Tell me about it.”

Donna taps her chin with her lithe fingers, considering something.

“But, after today, I think I can start putting the pieces together about what’s holding him back.”
Jason raises his head with renewed heed.

“Care to share?”

Donna turns her body towards Jason, taking a moment to speak.

“Look, Dick has no purpose anymore. He’s always had one. He was born an acrobat, the greatest
of all, but Zucco took it from him along with his parents and the only life he’d ever known. Then
Bruce came into the picture and gave him back a purpose when Dick created Robin and they
became the dynamic duo. But years later, Bruce took away the mantle of Robin from him—”

“And he gave it to me, a street kid.” Jason finishes for her, stretching in his mind the notion Donna
wants him to understand. She nods softly.

“And now while you found a purpose, Dick was looking for his again. So the blue and black was
born and Dick was reborn from the ashes, his new symbol and city his greatest purpose. But it
didn’t last. Dick had to take the mantle of Batman, the burden of carrying Gotham upon his
shoulders while trying to be a parental figure for Damian.

I dare to say, Damian became his purpose then while everything else was falling apart around him.
The rest you know,” Donna says, her contemplative gaze careful on Jason’s face. “My point is;
Dick has always played a role. Son. Big brother. Vigilante. And suddenly, everything changes and
one of the things that gave meaning to his life is taken away forever, along with parts of himself
that he felt defined him as a whole. He’s never been just Dick Grayson. He doesn’t know how to
be.”

“Holy shit. And you came with this life study in what, 5 minutes?” Jason rubs a hand across his
face.

“Something like that.” Freaking soulmates.

“I mean,” Jason begins. “Dick has always been ruled by his heart. He has always had this
excruciating sense of morality where he only felt useful when he was saving lives. It makes sense
that now that he isn’t any of that anymore, he feels lost, adrift.”

“He was never good at managing his emotions. But now… with brain damage, Dick can’t deal
with his emotions. At least not on his own.”

“You said that Dick no longer has a purpose and that he can’t deal with this alone. So how the hell
am I supposed to help him find a purpose?”

Donna masks her surprise, but not quickly enough that Jason didn’t read it. Why did she look so
surprised?

“I don’t know, but one thing I do know is that you can find purpose in the simplest things in life.
It’s not like you have to travel the world to find it.” Donna gestures with her hand. “But first things
first, Jason. How are you supposed to help him with this if you can’t even talk to him about what
happened?”

“What are you talking about?”

Donna rolls her eyes. “I saw your reaction a while ago. Tell me, have you ever asked Dick about
his kidnapping, about how he feels about it? Have you asked or just assumed?”

Jason has nothing to say about that because Donna is right. Assuming is easier than asking because
knowing the answer is sometimes too painful.

“Look, I’m not trying to reproach you for anything. But how are we supposed to heal if we don’t
talk about what hurts us? And I’m not saying that you should be brutally honest and go ask him his
biggest traumas. But to keep pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not, it’s not gonna get
us anywhere.”

“Yeah…”

It occurs to Jason that perhaps Dick has only been telling him what he wants to hear. Isn’t that
scary?

“And it’s not just you,” Donna says after a few seconds. “The family has been tiptoeing around
him, right?”

“Dealing with our issues never came in the Robin manual. We suck at this.” Donna chuckles with
that and Jason ends up joining her. But then Jason sobers, not being able to contain himself. “But
that’s not all.”

Donna looks at him closely. “What do you mean?”

“As you are aware, the person who took Dick most likely tried to run some experiment. And deep
down, I think he achieved something.”

“You think they did something to him,” Donna says, narrowing her eyes. “Though I’m sure Bruce
already made all the blood tests known to mankind at this point, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah. But there’s nothing there to prove that something is going on, even though it very clearly is.
So it’s also an untraceable formula on top of everything else.”

“Why do you say that? Have you noticed something?”

Other than I can know where Dick is at all times?

But Jason can’t share that because a commotion is heard and when Jason turns his eyes to Dick, he
can see him and the kid covering their mouth in horror, and why would they be?
 So Jason looks further to the right and finds out why. The ball crashed into one hot-dog cart. The
ball threw all the soda cans, ketchup and mustard containers to the floor. The owner of the cart is
red-faced with anger, yelling profanities into the air and pointing his finger at Dick and the kid.

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose.

Chapter End Notes

*here comes the author after another month and barely managing to write three
thousand words*
I hope I did justice to Donna. Thank you for your patience.

Quick disclaimer: when Jason thinks ‘freaking soulmates’ he means platonic love.
 Hurt And Grieve But Don’t Suffer Alone
Chapter Summary

“I see a lot of people die because they don’t believe that life is worth living, and I see
others who paradoxically get killed for the ideas, the illusions that gave them a reason
to live. What we call a reason to live is also an excellent reason to die.”

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason carelessly stubs his cigarette against the lamppost. He knew he was falling into habit again,
but Jason was a stubborn man; quitting wasn’t something he was good at. With a toss of his wrist,
he throws the butt into a dumpster a few feet away from him. That’s when the long-awaited exit
bell chimes over the hustle of voices and cars driving along the street.

Jason brushes a hand over his chin as he watches the sea of uniformed boys and girls parade
outside the heavy gates of Gotham Academy. Remembering his brief years as a student feels like it
happened in another life—he, a rebel who never wanted to knot his tie properly but had the best
grades in his class.

From where Jason was standing everything looked pretty much the same. Like Gotham itself, it
remains immutable, timeless.

Jason has no time to regret the stupid idea this is and swing in the opposite direction. Too late,
because his objective is coming straight at him with his backpack slung over one shoulder and his
tie halfway undone, as if the piece of clothing it’s obstructing his breath. Jason felt that way, too.

Both regard each other from away, Damian probably wondering why the black sheep of the family
is waiting for him next to his stunning car—which by the way, has drawn the eyes of more than
one bystander. Yeah, Dickie, a piece of junk my ass.

Damian stops a few steps from him, his chin slightly upward as if wanting to measure Jason. Or
rather, measure his intentions.

“Did something happen?”

Jason knows there’s no reason to be offended by Damian’s reasoning the only reason he would
come to pick him up from school is that something catastrophic must have happened. Not long
ago, Jason would have chosen to shoot himself on the toe before spending quality time with the
spoiled brat.

“Not really. The moon is still made of cheese and the sun is free.” Jason gives a parody of a smile a
tad too sharp to be genuine.

Damian’s jaw goes taut. “I meant, is Grayson okay?” Christ. This was the same kid who hadn’t
wavered between wanting to puncture him with his katana a thousand times in the past? From
miles away he could see the affection, the love for Dick.
Jason nods and Damian’s shoulders ease up a bit, but then he gives Jason a wary look. “Father and
Pennyworth, are they well?”

“No one is hurt. Get in the car.” Jason motions to the open door, hoping the demon will just do as
he says.

Damian crosses his arms, throwing a sceptical look at the car with his nose scrunched up. “That
doesn’t explain why you’re standing here instead of Pennyworth in that piece of junk you call a
car.”

A deep breath in, let out the air. Jason pictures himself slamming the door and screeching his tires
against the asphalt, leaving the kid swallowing smoke. You need him, damn it, you can’t leave him
stranded.

Jason lifts his sunglasses to look Damian eye to eye.

“This is the plan. You get in the car, I drive us to the nearest art store, and then we go pick Dick up
from his PT session—” Jason pretends to look down at his watch, then back at the brat. “It ends
precisely in 30 min. This means we have less than 1 minute to get the hell out of here and not be
late for him. What do you say?”

Damian seems to have hundreds of questions, but the only thing Damian lets out is a strained:
“Let’s not waste any more time, Todd.”

Ten minutes later, after a wordless drive, Jason pulls into an art store parking lot. Damian glances
at him sideways, his hand gripping the door handle tightly.

“Why are we here?” Damian sounded almost baffled that Jason wasn’t bluffing about going to an
art store.

Jason yanks out the keys a bit roughly, getting out of the car. “What do you think, genius? What
does one go to an art store for?”

Damian grumbles and slams the car door, begrudgingly following Jason into the store. “Why do
you want to purchase art supplies? You don’t seem like the sort of individual who would ever pick
up a paintbrush—” Jason seizes a random item and shoves it to Damian, cutting off his questioning
thread.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, brat. I just need you to grab whatever shit it takes to make a decent
drawing, gotcha?” Damian gives him a dark glare.

“Fine.”

Jason realizes, minutes later, how vindictive Damian can be when Jason is paying the small
fortune for all the art supplies at the register. The demon choose only the most awfully expensive
stuff in the store, of course he did. He doesn’t even try to feign innocence. Damian flashes him a
smirk when Jason yanks the money out of his wallet with his jaw clenched.

_____________
It’s not until Jason is about six minutes from the clinic that Damian breaks the silence for the first
time.

“What is the meaning of all this?” He asks, his eyes set on the windshield and the small drops
splashing against the glass. “What do you gain with this?” Damian turns his head, finally looking
at him. “I try to understand it, but I can’t come up with a motive. So speak.”

Speak, Damian says, as if Jason had the slightest clue of what he was doing.

How could Jason start to explain that he couldn’t get out of his head what Donna had told him the
other day? Night after night, tossing in bed trying to fall asleep but being unable to, mind filled
with unanswered questions. Dick has no purpose anymore. He’s never been just Dick Grayson. He
doesn’t know how to be.

The conversation flickered over and over in his mind, everything Jason should have asked but
couldn’t, out of stupidity, out of cowardice. Night after night, the only question that always stood
out like a flower blooming between the cracks in the cement: how can I help him?

What did it mean to have a purpose anyway?

As far as Jason was concerned, there were no maps, no footsteps left by anyone else that could
point him in the right direction. There were brilliant books out there, titles and studies with
honeyed words that lured the shattered like bees. But at the end of the day, all the information had
gathered in a heap, useless.

Yeah, sure, find your purpose in this life in 9 simple steps. As if life were that fucking easy. Men
and women could spend their whole lives trying to find their purpose only to go empty-handed.
And all for what? For them to realize that in the end, they wasted their time trying to give meaning
to their lives instead of living?

But Jason knew his point of view wasn’t the rule.

Being dead and coming back didn’t mean that Jason knew everything there was to know.

For him maybe there was no meaning, but for Dick? He felt that the point of his existence was to
be a martyr. He selflessly chose to burn himself to give light to others. He genuinely believed that
someday we could make the world better, starting with himself.

Jason could see it, could see Dick drifting aimlessly being just him, with no greater purpose or role
to play. Almost like stuck in limbo, waiting.

He wishes he could have Donna’s wisdom, so he could always have the right words to say.

He wishes he could grasp the haze that sometimes clouded Dick’s vision with his bare hands, get
rid of it. Seize whatever was holding him back and get it out of the way. But Jason didn’t know
how to do it, there lay the awful truth.

Jason wanted to be like a snake that could shed its skin and become someone else, but there was a
vast difference between wanting to do it and being able to do it. Something was holding him back,
too.

And then the idea came, sudden as an unannounced hailstorm. Maybe he couldn’t get into Dick’s
mind and change things, but Jason knew what Dick needed: the flock of younger brothers, the
senseless arguments. Dick needed to mend his relationship with the family, to be as close again as
they had been. After all, the family had always been Dick’s greatest weakness, maybe it could also
be his greatest strength.

But, currently, in his state Dick no longer knew how to be the person he used to be, with seemingly
always the right words to say. Dick had always been the bridge, the mediator, the glue. But now he
needed the others to be that for him—so that’s where Jason came in.

Jason was going to drill that into their birdbrains, by any means necessary. Like right now, driving
next to Damian, having a civilized conversation without beating each other to a pulp at the slightest
provocation. He was calling it progress, no matter how small.

Jason couldn’t give the punk that whole speech though, fuck no, so he prefers to give him the short
version.

“You’ve been avoiding Dick,” Jason says, turning the wheel when he finds a free spot in the clinic.
“Fewer visits, much fewer calls. You’ll have your reasons for wanting to put a distance.” A great
indication of how much Damian has grown is the way he doesn’t try to deny it or call Jason a liar.
“But what you don’t know is that Dick is hurting with the distance. He doesn’t know how to try to
fix things anymore, you think that’s fair to him?”

“And you think an afternoon of drawing will make things better?” Damian raises his voice, and in
the small space of the car, his voice sounds like thunder in a storm. “Do you think an afternoon
with me will bring him back?—”

“He’s not gone, Damian.” Jason turns off the engine, trying to keep his voice level. “Everyone
keeps talking about him as if he’s dead and in his place, there’s a clone of him, an imposter,”
Damian looks at him with an almost shocked expression. “I disagree.” Jason shakes his head. “I
know sometimes Dick is nothing like he used to be, I know you miss him. But I guarantee you that
if you look closely, you’ll find him there.”

With great timing, out of the corner of his eye, Jason sees Dick’s physiatrist Kaleb and Ava the
social worker come walking alongside a bowed Dick Grayson. Damian doesn’t acknowledge his
words, but the kid doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle his seatbelt and bolt toward the clinic entrance.

Damian wraps a startled Dick in a hug. He doesn’t let go for a while.

_____________

After that first icebreaker of spending all day drawing with Dick in the living room until night fell,
Damian asks him—no, he demands Jason to pick him up every Wednesday and Saturday
respectively from school and the manor so that he can spend the whole day with Dick. Jason
doesn’t know at what point he literally invited the demon into their lives, but now there was no
way to get Damian out. His presence on the best of days was irritating but bearable. His company
was becoming tolerable.

It becomes routine.

Dick and Damian sprawled on the carpeted floor, filling white sheet after white sheet with new
creations while Jason cooked or read or checked old unsolved cases. Soon, the drawings started to
fill the empty walls of Dick’s room, then the little corridor that led to the bedrooms.

It’s therapeutic, Damian always said as he drew in his sketchbook, and Jason never saw him more
like a kid than in those moments. And Dick’s bright smile always made Jason remember why he
was doing all this.

Weeks later, though, it tested Jason’s patience when there wasn’t more available space to hang
more drawings.

Jason feels his eye twitch as he sees the dining room table littered with new drawings, the culprits
sitting nonchalantly on the couch watching a movie. Jason brings his cell phone to his ear and
waits for the person to pick it up. Two rings later and comes the deep, bewildered timbre.

“Hello?”

“You know what?” Jason says to Bruce by way of greeting, disgruntled. “You should get a gallery
to hang all the drawings that Dick and Damian are creating.” It didn’t matter that it had been
Jason’s idea in the first place, it was always pleasurable to blame Bruce. “My walls are upholstered
with fucking cat’s drawings!”

“His name is Alfred, show more respect.” Damian chimes from the couch. Jason brushes him off.

On the phone, Bruce is silent for a couple of seconds, processing whether Jason is joking or being
serious.

“…You think I should?”

Jason hangs up the phone.

_____________

Tim was, simultaneously, one of the easiest and most challenging to bring along. Every time Tim
called and Jason subtly brought into the conversation that Dick missed him, Tim would show up
the next day with video games and ice cream. No exception. But the visits were awkward as hell,
painful to even watch. Tim always ran out of things to say within five minutes.

It was almost like the teenager didn’t know how to get close, how to reconnect with Dick. Maybe
there were still wounds that had never fully healed, things that remained unsaid, old grudges.

Jason had entertained the idea of ‘accidentally’ locking them in the apartment one day in the hope
that they would go back to talking the way they used to. But he knew that would only force things,
and when Tim felt backed into a corner he could lash out, more if Dick ended up saying something
tactless.

Temporarily shelving that matter, Jason focused on Dick’s other relationships, some that maybe he
had always needed to strengthen all along. Those were almost too easy.

A text was enough for Cassandra or Stephanie to drop by the apartment, backpack ready as if they
were ready to stay a whole week. Dick loved having the girls there; he loved soaking in the
attention when Step painted his nails or did beauty sessions together. They were always loud, and
enthusiastic.

On the other hand, Dick enjoyed the quiet moments when Cass helped him do some yoga. She was
very patient and gentle when Dick struggled to do some stretches. Both could lie on the floor
sharing earphones, with the sun’s rays falling on their faces for hours without end.

Jason was maybe enjoying their company more than he’d thought he would. It wasn’t something
he noticed right away. It was more like when Jason was running errands and he was putting the
products on the grocery chain. Organic Peanut Butter for Damian, Kit Kat’s for Cass, Flamin’ Hot
Cheetos for Steph.

That’s when Jason realized he was fucked.

_____________

But at the end of the day, Jason was just a man.

Frankly, there wasn’t much skill and effort behind picking up Damian and texting the girls to come
over. It wasn’t entirely his doing; he was pulling the strings now and then. Those relationships
hadn’t been tattered with the weight of the years. There weren’t old pains and grudges, not like
with Tim, not like with Bruce.

Coming up with ideas to fix Dick and Bruce’s relationship felt like wanting to count grains of sand
between his fingers. Jason felt unqualified of trying to mend a gap that had been growing for years.
It felt like an almost herculean task, something that was out of his league.

(And Jason didn’t want to acknowledge that every time he brooded an idea for Dick to fix his
relationship with his dad, he ended up with a tight chest. Bitter, trenchant feelings burning under
his skin).

Did Jason have to break his head trying to come up with solutions so Bruce could keep his delusion
of being the saviour of Gotham instead of saving the most important people in his life?

“Jay, where’s your head?” Jason is dragged out of his thoughts by a finger poking his forehead.
That’s when he grasps that Dick’s nose is inches from his, a breath away.

“Hopefully, on my shoulders.” Dick hums and shifts his gaze back to his notebook. Jason
swallows, staring at the ceiling to stop his eyes from wandering over to Dick, something
increasingly arduous. “Are you almost done?”

“Don’t rush me.”

Without taking his eyes off the ceiling, Jason can picture the face he’s making. Furrowed brow and
tight lips: discontent. Jason sweeps his hand to Dick’s ankle, squeezing in apology. “I just wanted
to know how much longer I have to lie here like a bag of potatoes.” he jokes lightly.

Even with his eyes closed, Jason can glimpse the small smile breaking through Dick’s face.

“If you keep moving like a worm, we’ll be here all night.”

Jason lets out a chuckle and then tucks his arms behind his head, trying to soothe the neck pain,
waiting. But like a moth drawn to the light, Jason can’t help but open his eyes and take a peek.

He wishes he could be an artist like Damian, capture on paper how mesmerizing Dick looks as he
holds the brush and traces with soft motions of his hand, his dark hair tucked behind his ear and
his cheeks smudged with paint.

Jason has always known, but right now he appreciates Dick in a different light. He’s beautiful, out
of this world.

When Dick looks back at him, he notices Jason staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just waiting to see your masterpiece.” Jason is proud of the way his voice doesn’t
give away his previous thoughts.

“Not yet,” Dick says and then he plants a hand on Jason’s chest to push himself up and straddle
him. Jason lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched oof, taken completely off guard.

Dick settles better on Jason’s lower stomach, retrieving his notebook and continuing his work as if
he didn’t just climb into Red Hood’s lap. Jason looks up at the ceiling again, feeling his cheeks
burn.

What else can he do but hold still, and let it happen? If it had been any other person, Jason would
have pushed him off his lap. But he lying on the carpeted floor with Dick straddling him has a
different impact. Electricity seems to tingle under his skin and Jason shivers.

Dick runs his tongue over his lower lip in concentration, and Jason remains motionless on the
floor, pinned beneath those blue eyes. One minute passes, two minutes and then—

“I’m done. Look!” Dick finally shows him his great masterpiece: a drawing of Jason’s face. “What
do you think?”

Jason studies the drawing with only half of his neurons available, the other bunch are busy
marvelling with the feeling of Dick’s thighs surrounding his waist.

“I like the colour of my eyes. Very on point.” Jason says distractedly. He can tell it’s him because
of the white streak on his forehead, otherwise, he would have thought Dick was showing him a
drawing of a narcotized Muppet. It’s cute.

Dick grins, looking from Jason to the drawing. “It took me a long time to find the closest shade.
Blue, but not much. More greenish. I’ve always liked your eyes.”

“I’m hanging it on my wall.” Jason declares, clearing his throat. He feels suddenly feverish. But
unable to stop himself, he wipes a finger against Dick’s paint-smeared cheek. “You’re all dirty,
Dickie.”

Dick shrugs. Then he reaches out and brushes a finger over Jason’s nose, smearing paint. Jason
doesn’t stop him. “Oh no, you’re all dirty too now.” And then, with a wide grin, he runs his hand
across Jason’s cheek.

Jason waits quietly and when Dick gets distracted trying to get more paint, Jason lifts his torso and
Dick laughs with the motion. Jason dips his finger into the paint jar and traces a blue line from
Dick’s cheekbone to his jaw with his thumb.

They both roll around playfully for a while, smearing each other with paint until their laughter
echoed throughout the apartment.

This was silly. This felt so good.

_____________

He has Dick clean up all the clutter of art supplies while he takes a quick shower, using a sponge to
get the paint off his face and hair. He’s finishing up when he thinks he hears the apartment bell
ringing. That can’t be.

Jason knows that the security guards wouldn’t let just anyone in, so he calmly shuts off the
running water. It’s not until Jason steps out of the shower that he hears muffled voices. Confused,
Jason trudges out to investigate, wearing only some sweatpants he found dumped there.

He finds Dick and a delivery man talking. Jason frowns. Why is the man inside the apartment and
not waiting in the hallway as he’s supposed to do?

“Dick?” With his voice, they both spin to see him. “What’s this about?”

“I... ordered some stuff online,” Dick says, taking some boxes from the man’s grasp and putting
them on the coffee table. That’s when Jason notices the wood easel wrapped in foam roll. “I told
you before.” Dick sets his hands on his hips.

“No, you didn’t.” He says softly, not reproachfully. The delivery man looks from him to Dick,
pryingly. Jason studies him. Young, with black hair and thick eyebrows. He’s pretty tall and well-
built. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to be delivering?” Jason questions and the man gives him a
smooth smile. There’s a gap between his teeth.

“My van broke down, so I’ve been delivering orders all afternoon. If I delivered this tomorrow I
would be admonished for missing the 3-day set delivery, sir.” The man stretches out his hand with
a digital clipboard and a pen. “Sorry for the late hour. Can you sign so I can go on my way?”

Jason glances sideways at Dick, in his denim overall and his face still covered in paint. He’s fine.
Jason doesn’t like that this stranger was left alone with Dick, but it was only for a second.
Everything’s fine.

Jason signs and the delivery man says goodbye, giving him that same smile that Jason finds
 himself disliking. He shuts the door and turns to Dick, his face serious.

“Dick, you know you’re not supposed to open the door to anyone you don’t know. Much less invite
them inside.”

Dick frowns. “Why? He offered to bring that inside.” he points to the large wooden easel in the
middle of the room.

“You can’t trust anyone.” Years of blow after blow have taught him that harsh lesson.

“Not even in you?”

“No. Not even me.” He teases him, but Dick furrows his brow even more.

“But you can trust me, Jay. Always.”

Jason gives him a small smile, full of feeling. “I know.”

Chapter End Notes

The title and phrase are taken from the song «Achilles Come Down» from Gang of
Youths. If you haven’t heard it, please go do it.
Now I can say that in the following chapters we will finally have the so much awaited
whump.

• I dedicate this chapter to a little being who came into my life and left too soon.
 If You Want Love, You Have To Go Through The Pain
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It starts like this.

Jason arrives at the apartment one day and shuts the door with a shove of his boot, his hands
stuffed with groceries. “Bluebird, I’m home!” He announces as he dumps the bags on the kitchen
island. There’s no answer. No bare feet treading towards him. “I brought the stuff to make the
peanut butter and cucumber sandwich you wanted to try!”

One second, two, three... nothing. He frowns.

That’s when Jason notices that something’s missing. It hits him at once as if someone had slapped
him in the face.

The apartment is never quiet; Dick makes sure of it. The TV is always on in some cheesy show.
Other days, the catchy pop tunes or 80s classics blasting through the speakers is a common
occurrence. He knows now that background noise help Dick huddle together his fickle thoughts
and don’t drown.

With its absence, it feels like someone ripped out their calm like a band-aid. It makes Jason feel
off.

“Dick?” Nothing. Jason springs into action as if he had been whipped. A swift glance reveals that
Dick’s favourite spot near the window (where sunlight pours the better) is empty except for the
wooden easel perched there.

His boots stomp against the floor with his restless search. He scours every inch of the apartment,
but his eyes are not deceiving him.

There’s no one there.

Jason whisks a hand through his hair. A pang on his chest makes him aware he’s been holding his
breath the whole time. He slams a hand on the wall, taking a deep breath. His chest feels tight, his
breath constricted and he didn’t even know the whole picture yet.

Dick could have been out with someone from the family and they forgot to tell him. Yeah, made
sense. He scrolls down his latest text messages. Only there weren’t any, nada. OK.

His mind pushes down the darkest thoughts as quickly as they come. He’s not allowed to stay
baffled in there, not when Dick could be in danger. 15 minutes alone, what could have happened in
that time? He shuts his eyes, grinding his palms against his eyelids to focus. When he opens them
again, he’s watching everything from Red Hood’s perspective.

First thing’s first: rule out the worst-case scenario.

A sweep of critical eyes finds the front door without a scratch. The windows are closed just as he
left them, with no signs of being forced. Their apartment is on the top floor — which, of course,
made break-in in broad daylight very unlikely, but not impossible. He checks the panel hidden
behind a painting anyway. And as he thought, the security system doesn’t display any unauthorized
breach —

With that thorn out of the way, it’s time to seek clues.

A dish of half-eaten apple chunks was dropped on the sink and Dick’s slippers were carelessly
tossed in the middle of the hallway. Dick’s sneakers were missing from the shoe rack at the
entrance. Oh, thank God, he took his shoes with him and not his fucking Crocs.

With a grimace, Jason looks up at the entrance rack and as expected, Dick’s keys and wallet lay
forgotten there. But Jason lets out a relieved sigh because at least Dick took his cell phone with
him.

Thank fuck for the note stuck to the back of the door with the reminder: before leaving, make sure
you have your cell phone, keys, and wallet with you (and pants on). He dials Dick’s number.

The call rings and rings, but Dick doesn’t pick up. Jason curses his way down to the ground floor,
but after the fifth unanswered call, his stomach clamps into a painful knot. Until proven otherwise,
nobody had taken Dick, but where was he?

A bell chimes as the elevator doors slide open and Jason stops at the lobby threshold, blinking at
the sudden brightness that sends jolts of pain to his temple. He looks back and forth at the crowd
of people outside. All his resolve shatters a little because... how was he supposed to find Dick
between that swarm of heads?

Dick could be anywhere, the 7-Eleven on the corner, the park, the ice cream shop, in a stranger’s
trunk—

Before he can make a conscious decision, Jason is dialling Tim’s number with a clenched jaw. Err,
Tim, I lost Dick. This is not a drill.

Jason tries to not fidget as he waits and just as he lowers his gaze to shield his eyes from the sun,
the tires rolling against the asphalt of the busy street catch his eye. A familiar yet foreign sight
flashes through his mind. Tires on the road seen from above in the distance, patches of green grass
and yellow dandelions softly swaying with the breeze— but the image fades when Tim picks up.

“If you are calling to persuade me to hang more drawings in my room, I gotta say no. I can’t close
my eyes without seeing their drawings all over the manor—” Jason blinks, barely following what
Tim’s saying. Where has he seen that before? He closes his eyes, trying to grasp the image for a
little longer. “Bruce is seriously considering getting a gallery…” a pause. “Uhh, Jason? Are you
there?”

“Yeah…” Jason trails off.

Mindlessly, he hauls back to the building and into the parking lot. Patting his pockets, he reaches
for the car keys. This is stupid, he knows. He should do what any sane person would do and ask for
help, he knows. This vision of some kind isn’t normal, he fucking knows.

“Never mind. I think I know where Dick is.” He says with a beaten mumble. Too bad Jason was
too good at ignoring things until it became an issue.

“WHAT. Dick’s missing?” Tim yells. “Why didn’t you say it before?”
“I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!”

Too late. Jason starts the engine. He doesn’t have a clear route, but somehow he knows the way as
if he had travelled it hundreds of times. He grips the steering wheel and just steps on the pedal,
dodging cars and running red lights like a man possessed.

Not more than fourteen min and sixteen seconds later, Jason is pulling to the side of the Craig
Bridge that connects to Burnside. The nearest bridge to Blüdhaven. He lets his feet guide him
thoughtlessly. He hikes up the uneven path of uphill grass, jeans brushing against wildflowers, tall
grass and dandelions until he spots a shape in the distance. The sun in front of him doesn’t let him
see more than a shadow, but Jason would know that shadow anywhere.

He sends a text to Tim, a plain ‘I found him, all’s well.’ and receives an instant: ‘Figures.’

Sitting there on a concrete bench is Dick, legs drawn close to his chest and chin resting on his
knees, a far-off look in his eyes. Jason’s knees feel like jello when he’s finally at arms-length from
him as if breathing came easier to him.

Dick’s here, he’s safe, he’s unhurt.

“Taking in the sights?” Dick jumps, caught off guard. He looks at him with wide blue eyes.
‘You’re turning your back on danger. Never leave your back bare’ Bruce would have scolded him.
Jason doesn’t have the energy to do it.

“Jay,” Dick says, staring at him and then looking back at the bridge. “You found me.”

I’d find you anywhere. Jason thinks, his pulse throbbing against his wrist. He slumps more than sits
next to him.

“You didn’t make it easy for me, considering that you left without warning or a note.” Jason keeps
his voice steady by sheer force of will.

Dick closes his eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought I told you I was going to meet you at the market. But
then… I got distracted.”

“How did you even get here?” Please tell me you didn’t take a ride with a stranger. Please—

“I think I took a bus?” Dick shrugs nonchalantly.

“You think?” Jason says suspiciously, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Look, I’m glad you
brought your phone with you, but it’s not much use if you don’t answer it. You could have let me
know that you were alright—”

“I like the reflection of the cars in the water, see?” Dick says out of nowhere, pointing at the
distance. “I could look at it all day. I think I used to.”

“Dickface, you can’t disappear like that. I thought—” but he can’t bring himself to say it, taint their
atmosphere with his worst fears. At least that gets Dick’s attention, who looks at him with his face
tilted. “I was worried.”
Dick’s face softens.

“I wasn’t in danger. Nothing was going to happen to me,” Dick is distracted by a dandelion a
moment later, he plucks it with his fingers.

“How can you be so sure?” Jason nearly growls. “The city is dangerous. People like you disappear
every day, missing without a trace as if the earth swallowed them whole. We don’t know who
might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to let my guard down so they can take you back!”
His voice cracks at the end, angry tears caught in the corner of his eyes. Fuck.

“Nothing was going to happen to me… because you wouldn’t let it happen.” Dick smiles, offering
him the dandelion.

Jason lets out a wet laugh. “You have way more faith in me than I deserve.” Dick stays quiet,
bringing the dandelion closer to him. “I’m not invincible. I’m just a man. You can’t know if I’ll
always make it in time…” to save you.

I once, too, hoped someone would make it in time. We both know how that ended.

Dick hums, whirling the dandelion in his fingers, waiting. Jason accepts it, his fingers brushing
Dick’s.

“Isn’t it beautiful? I like the reflection of the cars in the water. Do you like it?” Dick asks after a bit
of silence, staring away.

“Yeah, beautiful.” Jason agrees, his eyes never leaving Dick’s.

He’s sure of a couple of things at that moment: Dick’s more beautiful than any landscape that he
has seen, stunning cityscape be dammed. There’s no comparison. And the second certainty; he’s
never been here before. Yet he knows the memory was genuine, not invented by his mind.

Later that night, thanks to Tim, he realizes he could’ve sought Dick through his phone.

‘You used the GPS on Dick’s phone to find him, right?’

(He hadn’t even thought about it).

Jason, aware of the web of lies he’s been weaving to himself, replies:

‘Sure I did.’

_____________

Jason understands pretty well that there can be no real change in their lives if he isn’t able to
recognize and accept when he fails.

Dick had mentioned on the drive back how much he talked with a stranger on the bus. How easy it
came to him. That’s when Jason understood that he’d missed something.

What was one of the first things that came to mind when he thought of Dick? Stubborn, strong,
optimistic, friendly – ever since Jason has known him, Dick has always been a social butterfly. He
used to thrive in social interactions, used to have a high priority on connecting with others, in
building relationships. A showman, from head to toe.

And sure, Dick went out with the family and some close friends often. But maybe it wasn’t
enough. Jason’s charming company couldn’t be enough. The need for connection, togetherness,
family and a sense of community is human nature; something that’s hard-wired within us.

That’s how Jason starts encouraging Dick to go out more often, ‘cause he knows Dick would be
‘okay’ with staying home all the time. They start going to places Dick used to frequent looking to
get acclimatised again, feeling that bittersweet touch of nostalgia. Then they start going to new
places to create fresh memories: dining places, coffee shops, aquariums, watching games at
Gotham Stadium, and even one day they try a bar (a failure, it goes without saying).

It’s impressive, what a seemingly small action can trigger.

Gradually, Dick was becoming more self-confident again, less afraid of having a slip or saying
something inappropriate. He just laughed it off and kept going. (The bad days, the outbursts, the
poor memory and myriad of challenges weren’t gone, but Jason felt more capable to help Dick).

With the tremendous progress, on a Wednesday night, Red Hood re-emerges from his hiatus.

He patrols two to three times a week and only a few hours to get back to his previous pace. But
being back feels like putting on a pair of old shoes that fit perfectly. That invisible burden that had
been weighing on him begins to shrink.

After all this time – with their ups and downs – Jason feels for the first time since he found out
Dick was missing that everything has fallen back to ‘normal’. Their new normal, be that as it may.

Only one thing had changed. Something that didn’t use to bother him, but now he couldn’t brush
aside. It’s not that Jason used to leap without thinking. Everything he did was always carefully
calculated and planned in advance. But Jason used to tiptoe to his limit, sometimes exposing
himself because he knew he could bear it.

But now there was something so wrong with intentionally putting himself in harm’s way. Every
bullet that grazed too close for comfort, every punch that landed, every chase through the heights
with his life depending on his training and grappling hook—

He could only think in those moments, what would happen if I didn’t make it back home?

This was a new kind of burden, a concern that haunted his mind incessantly. Jason no longer had to
take care of himself for his own sake, but now there was someone who depended on him to make it
back. A reason for Jason to come home unscathed every night.

Is that how Bruce felt at some point? When did he stop taking risks because a little orphan was
waiting for him back at the manor?

“Dick, it’s getting late!” Tim says impatiently from the couch, stirring Jason out of his thoughts.
“We’re gonna miss the movie!” Jason rolls his eyes, done verifying that his grappling lines are in
good condition. Everything’s in order. Guns, combat knives, shurikens, smoke grenades—

“I can’t find my dental floss!” Dick shouts from the bathroom, the sound of tossing audible in the
living room.
“Why would you need your floss for?” Tim complains even though Jason shoots him a look of
don’t ask dumbass.

Dick is unamused. “I need it, dammit!”

“And now he curses like you.” Tim scoffs and Jason feels his mouth curl.

“It’s in the right cabinet, staring you right in the face.”

“It’s not here, you liar!”

Jason sighs, tugging on his leather gloves and flexing his fingers.

“Just look up and you’ll find it, Dick.”

Tim looks at him like a riddle he’s had trouble sorting out and Jason tries not to bare his teeth,
making a show of loading his gun. The teenager raises his hands in mockery. A second later, Dick
comes out of the bathroom with his dental floss in hand and a grin on his face.

“Okay guys, crisis averted. I found it, it was in the right cabinet.” Tim gets up from the couch with
a giggle, looking at Dick expectantly.

“Shall we go then?”

Jason points a finger at the Replacement. “Don’t let him eat more than two bars of chocolate. I
mean it.” Tim gives him a military salute, cheekily winking at Dick.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Jay.”

He’s adjusting his gun holsters when Dick approaches him. “Enjoy the movie, okay? I’ll see you
later, Bluebird.” Dick nods but lingers. Jason is about to ask what’s wrong when Dick stands on his
tiptoes, planting a wet kiss on Jason’s cheek.

“I miss you already.”

Jason freezes as Dick holds Tim’s hand and the punk has the guts to give him a teasing look as
they head for the door.

Even when he’s left alone in the apartment, Jason pretends he can’t feel his whole face burning.
Whatever.

_____________

It’s a slow night. So much that Jason takes some time off to sit next to his favourite gargoyle in
Downtown Gotham, feet dangling off the edge of the building. He takes off his helmet, feeling
some curls stick to his forehead unpleasantly. The air is thick, no fresh air. Summer in Gotham
feels like another kind of hell.

He’s drinking from a water bottle, leisurely eyes darting from side to side when a glitzy billboard
draws his attention. The more he stares at the poster, the further his mind goes in a spiral. The idea
is planted in his mind like a seed.
Jason can’t recall the last time he set foot in a carnival that wasn’t for an undercover mission or
surveillance of some mobster. The mere thought of going for the fun of it...

Before Dick, had he always been such a hermit, so caught up in his strive to cleanse Gotham from
the roots? Of course he’d gone out and frequented bars with Roy and Kori, getting into all sorts of
trouble. But it feels very far away.

He’s struck with the mundanity of making plans to go to carnivals and looking forward to spending
time playing games of chance and climbing the Ferris Wheel. The simplicity of the activity blows
his mind regarding the strong feelings it evokes.

It’s unbelievably scary.

_____________

Jason had told Dick they were going to the dentist, trying to keep a blank face to not spoil the
surprise. Dick hadn’t objected, just climbed into the car with him. The red Hawaiian shirt hadn’t
raised any suspicions, just an eyebrow. Jason would deny until his dying day that he had bought
both his and Dick’s matching blue Hawaiian shirt for the occasion.

He doesn’t park in the main parking lot to avoid a glimpse of the towering Ferris Wheel. They
walk two blocks and it’s not until they’re about to turn the corner that Jason stops Dick by clasping
a hand on his wrist.

“Close your eyes.”

“Is there a dead animal or something?” Dick questions, but promptly closes his eyes. The action
makes Jason feel… warmness overflowing. There was no wavering, no mistrust. He could’ve
shoved Dick off a cliff and Dick would have gone willingly.

Jason steps behind him, covering his eyes. Dick instantly leans toward him. “Walk with me.”

He leads Dick carefully around the corner and below the wide poster that reads ‘Twilight
Carnival’ in scarlet and golden letters. Jason pulls his hands away. “You can open your eyes now,
Dickie.”

Dick blinks and it takes him a moment to figure out where they are. He turns to Jason, a blinding
smile splitting his face. “The summer carnival,” Jason is entranced by that smile. But he snaps
himself out of his daze. “You brought me to the summer carnival?”

“I did, Bluebird. I thought that you’d like to come. And I think we both deserve to have a little fun,
don’t you think?”

The wrinkles forming in Dick’s eyes by the force of his smile are answer enough.

The beams of sunlight falling on them promise a warm afternoon. Above them, only bright blue
sky stretched out, but before long it will be tinged peach, rose and lavender. Gotham hardly ever
looks this buoyant.

Catching sight of what lay ahead of them, it’s evident that the carnival is in full swing.

Children darting back and forth with their parents tailing after them. Laughter hung in the air from
the bumper cars. Too-loud pop music in sync with joyful voices and the occasional shrill shrieks
coming from the rides. Jason fills his lungs with the syrupy scent of cotton candy and corn
popping, but there’s also the foul smell of cigarettes, hot pavement and oiled machinery.

At another time, the assault of sensations and external stimuli might have been overwhelming. But
this time it doesn’t feel like knives stabbing against his nerves. Dick doesn’t seem to mind either,
his blue eyes twinkling with excitement while he watches around. Jason lets a whoosh when
without warning, Dick drags him towards a cotton candy stand.

“Just for today I’m gonna indulge your sweet tooth, okay?” Jason says as he pays the vendor. He
takes the cotton candy and hands it to Dick, who doesn’t doubt going for a bite.

“Can I have French fries, too?” Dick asks hopefully and Jason brings to his mouth a piece of sweet
and ephemeral cotton.

“Sure, as long as you don’t put chocolate on them.”

Dick scoffs. “I don’t understand your thing of eating everything boring.”

Jason snorts, stuffing more cotton into his mouth. “And putting chocolate on the damn fries is
eating fun?”

“Yes!” Dick shrieks and then pulls him further in, blue eyes looking joyfully at the Rotor whirling
people until dizziness. Jason bites the inside of his cheek.

“You’d like to try a ride?” Dick looks at him, uncertainty creeping in for the first time. “You know
what? We can try later. I just saw something that you might like.”

The carousel looks old and rust-coloured, but Dick doesn’t wait to hop into the nearest horse with a
toothy grin. And there goes Jason, following after him with a matching silly smile.

After the ride, they take the mission of trying every game of chance and skill. Ring Toss, Bust-a-
Balloon, Skee-Ball. Dick sucks at it, there’s no way to sugarcoat it. But that doesn’t stop him from
trying, letting out a laugh when he hits everything but the target.

Jason tries the High Striker at some point and wins the highest prize, a giant blue teddy bear. But it
only takes Dick a glance at a little girl sending heart-eyed glances at the teddy bear to thrust it into
her little hands without a word. Jason finds the moment hilarious.

However, sometime later as they walk through the games – Dick enjoying a lemonade and fries –
Jason spots a prize hanging in the Shooting Game that he knows straight away Dick would love.
He stops Dick with a tug on the hem of his shirt.

“Hey, I want to try this one.”

They both wait in the small line and after studying the poor posture and bad aim of some of the
folks, it’s their turn. Jason spins to Dick with a smirk. “Wanna give it a shot, pretty bird?” Dick
blushes for some reason, shaking his head.

“Better you.”

The operator hands him the cheap air rifle, explaining the rules and the targets that give the highest
points. Jason measures the weight of the rifle in his hands before positioning himself. Bruce would
say a few lines like ‘don’t use your abilities to benefit yourself’ and Jason can only think fuck it.

He picks his target— and shoots.

One by one the targets drop with a clang. A few seconds’ silence follows his flawless shots, and
then the people behind them burst into applauses. The chubby man purses his mouth slightly but
waves at the prizes and Jason points to the upper right corner, locking eyes with Dick.

“This one is for you.”

Dick looks at the stuffed elephant in Jason’s hands with a small, precious smile. Jason feels like
that smile is the best prize there is in the whole carnival.

After eating some chilli dogs, they are pleased to stroll around, watching. Jason is content to let
Dick manoeuvre him wherever he wants, attracted by the colours, scents or people gathered.
Jason’s eyes go from the kaleidoscope of light colours flickering and back to Dick, lingering in the
way the lights dance on his golden skin, making his eyes sparkle.

They also try the hall of mirrors – albeit somewhat creepy – taking photos and making funny
gestures that have them laughing until crying. It’s not until Jason accidentally glances at his watch
that he realizes how long they’ve been here. But the carnival is still full of alive - and so are they.

“How would you feel about getting on the Ferris Wheel?” Dick stops walking beside him, eyes
traveling to the structure. Jason can see him pondering it.

Dick sighs. “Kaleb said that when I’m uncertain, I could flip a coin. He says that at that moment
before the coin falls, I’ll know what I want.”

“So you’d rather leave it to chance?” Jason asks, taking a nickel out of his pocket.

“He says it’s like a push. That deep down, I already know what I want.”

“Alright. Heads, we go up. Tails, we stay on the ground. Gotcha?” Dick nods and with a flip, Jason
sends the nickel soaring. They both watch it twirl and then he catches it between his palms.
“Ready?” Jason takes his hand off and they both draw closer, foreheads brushing. They look down.
“Is that the choice you really wanted?”

Dick takes the nickel from his hand, smiling. “I think so.”

Sometime later, crammed into the seats with cracked padded cushions, the Ferris shudders to life
beginning the slow ascent. Dick clutches the metal bars, squeezing his eyes shut. The stuffed
elephant is forgotten on his lap.

“I think I’d like to come down now.”

“Uh,” Jason looks around, the floor further and further away. “I think it’s a little late for that, pretty
bird.”

“This isn’t good,” Dick grumbles. “I’m regretting it. Jason, get us down.”

Instinctively, Jason brushes his fingers over Dick’s white-knuckles gripping the bars. “Hey, it’s
okay. Just focus on my voice, okay? Forget everything else.” Dick opens his eyes and when he
glances down he shuts them again.

“Holy shit.”

Jason winces. “You don’t have to be afraid. We’re not that high—”

Dick opens his eyes again, fear forgotten in order to glare at Jason. “You got it wrong, Little
Wing.”

“What?”

“I’m not afraid of heights. They don’t scare me,” he says softly. “I’ve always been afraid of
falling.” Oh.

“I— shit,” he’s at loss for words, but then— “You haven’t called me like that in quite some time.”

“Little Wing?” Dick frowns. “I call you that all the time.”

“No, you don’t. It must be one of those things that you do in your mind, but forget to share with
me.”

“Well, shit.” Dick grunts, dragging a hand over his face.

And then Jason realizes that the cabin has stopped. They’ve reached the peak. Up here, the
clamorous roar of the carnival dimmed. Up here, it’s quiet. Up here, everything seems clearer.

“I wouldn’t let you, you know,” Jason says spontaneously what could have been seconds or
minutes later.

“Let me what?” Dick asks, eyes fixed only on him.

“Fall,” Jason replies. “I’d never let you fall.”

Up here, it’s easy to let the words out. Only them and the moon as witness. A promise. An oath.
Many emotions flicker through Dick’s face. Jason doesn’t need a mirror to know that he also has
them reflected in his face.

“I know.”

_____________
“You’re comfortable up there?” Jason mockingly asks and Dick drops his chin on Jason’s crown.

“Very. I could fall asleep right here.” Jason pinches Dick on the hip playfully, causing him to
squirm. Dick had asked very prettily to be carried on Jason’s back, and naturally, he agreed.

They were on their way out. It had been a great night, but Jason was dying to get home and throw
himself on his bed. Maybe make some pancakes first—

“Jay, wait. Look!” Dick points to a kind of bohemian chic style tent of a very signature velvety red.
“We can’t leave without going in there.”

Jason lets out a groan. “I’m not setting foot there.” Dick wriggles out of his grasp and Jason lets
him go, looking at him pleadingly. “Don’t make me go in there.”

“Why not? Are you a skeptic?” Dick takes his hand and drags him into the tent with the curtains
pulled open. It doesn’t matter that Jason puts some resistance on his feet, it’s pointless. “It’ll be
fun!”

Jason has to bend his head to get into the very small tent. And then he’s invaded by the smell of
incense and leathery jasmine scent. The tent is almost in gloom except for a few scented candles lit
around. There’s a brownish rug spread on the tent’s floor and a round low table with a crystal ball
and some rose quartz on top.

They are two red embroidery high poufs available. The third is taken by a woman with headphones
on and hunched over herself, counting dollars and coins.

Jason clears his throat.

The dark-skinned woman yanks off her headphones with a jolt. She has lovely fox-shaped eyes of a
chocolate colour, luminous skin and plump lips. Her ebony locks are tied in a messy bun with a
hair scarf.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Didn’t I hang the sign that I was done for the night—” but then she takes a good
look at them and closes her mouth. “No matter, you can be my last clients.” She tosses her
headphones and money inside a small metal box. Then she motions to the seats in front of her with
a bow of her head. “My name is Madame Simone. Please have a seat.”

Jason grudgingly does so. The pouf is absurdly small for him, his knees protesting with the crouch.
She takes the stack of tarot cards from under the table, beginning to shuffle them. “Shall I do an
individual reading or a couple’s reading?”

“Individual. Uh, we’re not...” Jason shakes his head, stammering. “Just him.”

She raises a well-trimmed eyebrow. “So you’re the skeptical one, I see.”

Jason was not skeptical; he just didn’t let himself be fooled by those who pretended to preach the
truth but were mere charlatans.

“That’s exactly what I said. Jay doesn’t believe in this. But I grew up in a circus. So this is almost...
familiar.” Dick moves the elephant on his lap with a grin. “I had an elephant best friend back there,
Sitka.” Jason bites the inside of his cheek. Dick could tell his entire life story to any stranger these
days.
She’s heedful of his words, undoubtedly seeing how to use them to her advantage. “Is that so,
honey?” She asks even when Jason is sure that she already recognized who Dick is. “Well, in that
case, you know how this works. What do you want to know? I can give you a reading about your
future, about your next relationship. Tell me your deepest yearnings and I—”

“Really?” Jason snorts. “That’s the play that fools everyone?” The fortune-teller groans, stopping
shuffling the tarot cards for a second.

“Look, man. You can wait outside if you want to keep being disrespectful, but some of us want to
take off this sweaty outfit and go home.” She points to her long-sleeved velvety dress. “So are you
gonna let me do my job or what?” Jason throws up his hands. Her semblance changes when he
turns to Dick. “As I was saying, honey, what do you wish to—”

“I wish to know how to stop being broken,” Dick drops the bomb just like that. Simone and Jason
fall silent. “Here,” he points to his head. “I’m not myself sometimes. Will I ever be myself again?”

She visibly looks concerned but recovers in a second. “Let’s read the cards together and see what
the spirits want to say first.” She shuffles one last time, her eyes closed in concentration. “Let’s
look at your current situation, the obstacle that’s holding you back, and then some advice, okay?”

She spreads the tarot cards face down on the table and then picks a random card, drawing it
forward with her painted nail. She places it horizontally in the middle of the table facing them.

“Alright. Do you know why The Fool is numbered zero?” She asks gently. “It’s because is the
number of unlimited potentials.” The fortune-teller then taps the card. “On this card, a young man
stands on the edge of a cliff, without care. He’s gazing upward at the sky and is seemingly
unaware that he’s about to skip off a precipice into the unknown. This is a card of new beginnings,
honey.” She nods at Dick softly.

“Just like him, you’re on the outset of your journey, standing on the cliff’s edge and about to take
your first step into the unknown. You don’t know exactly where you’re going, but you feel the call
of your heart.” She explains, eyes glinting. “The Fool represents a blank slate. By starting at the
beginning with nothing, the fool can go on to become whatever it may please and by extent, so can
you.”

“It… makes sense.” Dick rubs his chin thoughtfully. Jason instead crosses his arms, eyes
wandering over the drapery of the tent.

“Now let’s see what doesn’t let you move forward.” She follows the previous method. Shuffle,
spread and pick a card. But this time when she picks up a card, Jason watches her frown. She
places it face down next to her crystal ball. When she looks up, her face is neutral again. “Sorry.
Let’s start over.”

Jason narrows his eyes at the card.

Simone chooses another card and this time places it vertically on top of The Fool’s card. Jason
notices that the card is upside down. Dick leans forward and gulps.

“That’s—”

“There’s no reason to fear. It’s not what you think.” She assures calmly. “Death is a card of
transformation, rebirth, of letting go. But yours is Death Reversed. So it represents the opposite. It
means that you’re on the verge of meaningful change but are resisting it. You may be reluctant to
let go of something.” She gestures with her hands. “Because of your refusal, your denial, life has
stagnated, and you feel… stuck in limbo. Aimless.” Broken.

“What the fuck.” Jason can’t help but blurt out. She shoots him a glare and Jason glares back. This
was too precise. There was no way she could guess all that. “Who are you? Who sent you?”

“What the hell?” She barks, shaking her head. “You’re not the one asking the questions here. Can I
finish the reading in peace?”

“Jason, shush,” Dick chimes in, biting his fingernail. “I wanna hear.” Simone gives Jason one last
warning look.

“Okay, let’s see what the spirits want to give you for advice, honey.” She picks the last card and
puts it vertically below the Death card. Jason leans forward, looking closely. “Mmh. The Star card
means that after all the challenges you’d have endured, after stripping you bare of any limiting
beliefs that previously held you back, you’ll be able to find your core essence. Who you are
beneath all the layers. After all the turmoil, you might find or rediscover a sense of meaning, or
purpose in your life.” She looks at Dick with a small smile. “Allow yourself to dream, to aspire and
reach for the stars. They’re within your reach, honey.”

“I—” Dick starts but Jason speaks first.

“All right, what’s the catch?”

“There’s no ‘catch’. The spirits spoke, I only interpreted it through the cards.” She grabs the cards
from the table and starts to pack her crystals and stuff. “If you have a complaint, speak to them. It’s
$25.” She extends her palm.

“25 bucks?”

Once she pretty much kicks them out of her tent, Jason’s rant goes off.

“This seems suspicious to me, Dickie. I don’t trust her.”

“Why not?” Dick crosses his arms.

“There’s something off with this. I can feel it—”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Simone asks, coming out and closing the tent curtains. She’s
carrying a white box in her hands. “But if you have a hard time believing this, I kindly remind you
that you live in a city where there’s a crocodile man or whatever and a man dressed as a giant bat.”
She mocks, shifting close to Dick and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I hope you can find your
way, honey.”

Then she looks at Jason one last time. “Besides, tarot cards aren’t just for ‘reading the future’.
They are for getting clarity, guidance, and help. We all need it.”

And then she walks away.

_____________
 Once they come back to the apartment and after Dick’s refusal of pancakes, they go to sleep. But
sleep doesn’t come easy for Jason. There were so many words caught in his throat. He rips the
sheets off his feet and gets up, restless. His feet lead him toward Dick’s closed door. Jason raises
his hand to knock but stops at the last moment. What was Jason supposed to tell him? Dick was
probably drooling on his pillow by now.

He was being paranoid. Jason turns around, heading to his bed for another sleepless night.

“Jay?”

He has a second of doubt. Now he also imagines his voice? But then he realizes it’s not his
imagination, Jason is opening the door and coming into the room in gloom shamefully fast.

The curtains are drawn open, so the moonlight sheds light on Dick’s figure hunched on the edge of
his bed. Jason kneels in front of him. “Dick? What are you doing up?” But he doesn’t reply. Jason
brings his hands up to lift his face and finds his cheeks wet. “Dickie, what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” Dick sniffles.

“Is this about the tarot reading?” Jason whispers. “Dick, remember that sometimes we twist the
things we hear. I know she hit very close, but that doesn’t mean she knows everything.” Jason
says. “Sometimes the answers are not out there,” he touches Dick’s chest, above his heart.
“They’re here.”

Dick finally looks at him, his eyes teary. “It’s not that, Jay.” He brushes a hand over his wet face
and stretches something to him. A crumpled tarot card. “I think she left this in my pocket.” Jason
takes it.

He frowns. “Why would she leave you this card?”

The Tower card.

“Turn it.”

Cautiously, Jason flips the card over. With a sinking heart, he reads. The fortune-teller scribbled
messily with a red pen.

‘Beware of the man with the brown smudge in his cobalt eyes .’

Chapter End Notes

I tried my best to stick as closely as possible to a real tarot reading. But this is fiction
so sorry for the dramatics ♀️
Hope I got it right.

Thanks for reading ❤

 When Is A Dream Not A Dream?
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jason writhes the card between his fingers, the motion almost absentminded.

Funnily enough, glaring at the card didn’t magically make answers emerge that weren’t there
before. Not that he’d want to keep looking at it if he could stop it. There was something almost
Kabbalistic about the illustration, a particular detail that made the hairs on his neck stand on end –
the two people nosediving into the bottom, with nothing to break the fall.

He’s so immersed in the illustration that it takes him a second to notice the voice speaking cheekily
next to him.

“There’s a tall tower perched on the top of a rocky mountain. Lightning strikes set the building
alight, and two people leap from the windows, head first and arms outstretched. It’s a scene of
chaos and destruction—” Tim says in a deep timbre, mimicking the sound of a thunderstorm.

Jason looks up at stalactites in the ceiling trying to find the will to bear this conversation.

“Could you just stop?” He groans, cutting off Tim and his poor attempt at lighting the mood. “You
think you’re being funny, but flash news dipshit, you’re not.” Tim stares at him for five seconds
before returning his eyes to the screen.

“The Tower itself is a solid structure, but because it has been built on shaky foundations, it only
takes one bolt of lightning to bring it down. The lightning represents a sudden surge of energy and
insight that leads to a break-through or revelation, the truth coming to light...”

Jason tries not to roll his eyes. “It’s a bad omen card, I know. There’s no need for dramatics.” He
waves a hand in Tim’s direction, who raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not necessarily a bad omen; it can be open to interpretation, you know,” Tim says with a shrug
of his shoulder. “It doesn’t mean that your apartment is going to break down in flames or
something equally awful. It’s usually just metaphorical.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s so reassuring—” And then Jason shifts his eyes back to Tim. “Wait, and how
do you know so much about this shit anyway?”

Tim pointedly averts his eyes. “Steph made me her test subject to practice Tarot reading one time.
Not relevant.”

Jason lets it slide, for now. “Whatever. Let’s go over this again, Timberina,” Jason grumbles,
resting his chin on his palm. “Brainstorm.” Tim doesn’t smother the heavy sigh, tipping his head
back and putting a wrinkled paper over his face.

“Okay. A riddle seemed quite logical at the beginning, but we’ve ruled it out by now. I think we’ve
tried a thousand letter combinations at this point, so I guess we can discard any hidden—”
“I’m still not convinced about that, though.” Jason interrupts him, shaking his head even if Tim
can’t see him.

“Like I was saying, I don’t think there’s a secret message hidden in there. The message is pretty
clear as it is.”

Jason snorts gravely. “‘Beware of the man with the brown smudge in his cobalt eyes’. Is that clear
enough for you?” Jason nearly barks. “That description isn’t telling me shit. A man with a brown
spot on his blue eyes? What the fuck? As if that description narrows our search at all.”

“Well,” Tim straightens up, making the paper slide to the ground. “It might if we’re talking about a
person with heterochromia. It appears in about 0.25% of the world’s population. That’s a start.”

Jason grits his teeth. “Fuck you. I still think there’s a hidden meaning. How could we know if we
aren’t seeing the whole puzzle?”

“Huh, I have a better question. Are we sure this actually means something? Let me remind you that
this was written by a fortune-teller at a carnival!” Tim emphasizes his words with a high-pitched
tone. Touché. “Why are you so obsessed with this being a genuine warning?”

“Your opinion doesn’t count because you weren’t there. You didn’t hear what she said, the
accuracy—” He heaves a sigh. “It’s gotta be him.”

Jason’s aware that he told Dick that he shouldn’t take the Tarot reading too seriously. And damn, a
sleepless night later here he was, discussing it with Tim of all people as if his life depended on it.

“My opinion counts too, jackass. Thank you very much!” Tim splutters, almost disgruntled. “But
okay. Let’s omit the origin of this note and assume for a delusional moment that it’s real. You
know that the odds of this person being the same one who took Dick are slim to none, right?”

Tim drops the question and has that look in his eyes that says something like yes, it’s about damn
time someone said it.

Jason tightens his hands around the chair’s armrest. He’s not sure at what point his brain made the
connection, nor at what point he took it as a certainty, or how the hell Tim picked it up, but now
that it came out of his mouth there’s no way to take it back.

“On what foundation can you make such a statement?” Jason asks slowly, his eyes hard. “Can you
look me in the face and tell me for certain that this is not the same person?”

“Jason, let’s get serious for a minute,” Tim argues, putting on an equally severe expression. “Based
on how little we have collected in this time; we know for sure that Dick’s kidnapping was not a
one man’s work. There’s no way. It was the work of a highly-skilled group, an organization—”

“And every organization, like any bee colony, always has the queen bee, the brain who pulls the
strings and commands the other bees from the honeycomb.”

“I agree, but this,” Tim points vaguely to the card. “This doesn’t mean that we are talking about
that same brain behind it. As far as we know, it could mean something else entirely. It’s a shot in
the dark.”

Jason feels a wave of aggravation rise from his stomach to his throat and he can’t stop his voice
from rising a few octaves.

“If you have such a hard time believing this shit, then what the hell are you still doing here?”
“Do I look like I could be doing something else?” Tim sways his casted right arm courtesy of a
rough encounter with Poison Ivy two nights ago. When Jason scowls, ready to stand up and leave,
Tim stops him with a gesture of his good hand. “Hey, do you really think I’d spend three hours
trying to figure out a ‘hidden message’ with you if I didn’t feel like there’s something strange
here?”

Jason looks at him carefully. “So you do believe me, brat?” Tim makes a face.

“I wouldn’t question your instincts, Jason. There’s something ambiguous behind this note? Yes. Is
it involved with the organization? I highly doubt it. I wish I had the conviction to say yes, but I
don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? I don’t think you want the same either.” Tim says the
last empathetically and Jason tries not to bristle at the tone.

“I know how this sounds, Tim. It sounds like I’m trying to conjure up evidence that isn’t there, but
I know we’re up to something,” Jason looks down at the steel table, gripping a hand in his black
curls. “Tough luck she’s the only one who can clear things up.”

Tim motions to the main screen. “And in order for her to clear things up, we need to find her. Oh,
right. We’ve been trying to do that for the last three hours!” Tim huffs heavily. “Sure you don’t
want to try a sketch again?” The teenager asks mockingly, bringing back Jason’s embarrassing
attempt to draw a portrait of the fortune-teller.

“Shut up. Our best shot is the security cameras, I’m telling ya. How hard can it be to find a carnival
fortune-teller, anyway?”

Turns out, indeed, it was proving very hard to find her.

“Well, the only thing we know for sure is that her real name isn’t Simone.” Tim declares a long
time later, rubbing his eyes with his good hand. Jason thumps him in the shoulder. “Ow, what was
that for?”

“There’s no need to be a smartass. It’s obvious her real name isn’t Madame Simone, dickhead.
That’s her stage name.”

“A stage name, by the way, that makes no match in our database.” When Jason gives him a
humourless look, Tim shrugs. “Most likely because she might not have done anything relevant,
good or bad. We already read it, she shouldn’t even have been at the carnival that night, she
substituted the original fortune-teller, Madame Betty.”

Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. “Confirm again that Madame Betty and Madame Simone
aren’t related.”

“They’re not. But,” Tim mumbles, sprawled out on the swivel chair. “I do have Mrs. Betty’s
address and a phone number. I bet she knows something.”

“Mmh.”

At least they wouldn’t leave empty-handed tonigh.

“So,” Tim says nonchalantly a few minutes later. “Now you believe in all this Tarot and
divinations stuff?”
“It’s not so much about if I believe or not, it’s the way things developed. And this card,” Jason
picks it up so Tim can see it. “I don’t know. When she pulled it out of the pile, that look on her
face, she tried to mask it right off, but not fast enough that I couldn’t see it. It was alarm. Like she
knew something we don’t.”

“And how could she?” Tim asks quietly as if he didn’t want to start another argument.

“Don’t know, don’t care. But—”

“Ah, here we go again,” Tim groans, glaring up at the ceiling. “We already established there’s not
a secret message!” Jason ignores him, kicking Tim’s swivel chair away. “Son of a—”

“My point is…” Jason speaks over him. “The Tarot reading is incomplete, therefore, this is
pointless unless she explains what she didn’t share that night. And this knowledge could be
valuable to us. It could help us to find them finally, find him.” Jason says with determination, his
mind already set.

“Jason,” Tim says very seriously, almost cautiously, once he drags his chair back. “It’s been
almost 6 months. In all this time, we haven’t been able to find a single lead. Do you seriously think
a tarot reading is going to lead us to them?”

When you put it like that, it sounds absurd – batshit crazy – but there were more absurd things in
their lives.

“In all this time, as you say, we haven’t found shit about them. And now,” Jason whirls the card
between his fingers. “Now we might.”

“A clue written in a terrible handwriting, in a tarot card, great.”

“Whatever. This card serves its purpose. It’s a warning. I don’t care how, what I care about is that
she’s maybe the only person who’s ever seen this man’s face—”

Tim crosses his arms. “That’s a big maybe.”

“After 6 months, this is our best shot. I’d rather get to the bottom of this and find out if I’m being
paranoid or not, rather than not take it seriously and let it bite us in the ass later.”

“I can agree with that, to a degree, but that doesn’t matter if we can’t find her. Without her real
name, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Yeah, no shit.

After that, Jason sets upon carrying out the tedious job of checking the CCTV footage from that
night (Oracle’s courtesy), reddish eyes following the grainy focus on the swarm of folks going
back and forth. But Jason rewinds a specific part of the recording for the thousandth time. Two
people, wearing flashy red and blue Hawaiian T-shirts, one doing a piggyback ride to the other as
they roam through the kaleidoscopic lights.

Is the ache of wanting to relive that moment over and over normal?

He’s so absorbed in the screen, in the memory, that he doesn’t notice the conversation behind him
until Jason catches the unmistakable smell of freshly baked cookies. Cinnamon cookies, Dick’s
favourites.
“—I recall saying you had to take it easy with that broken arm, didn’t I, Master Timothy?”

“I know, I know, but I wanted to do something useful, be another set of eyes and brain cells for
Zombie Boy,” Jason is tempted to say he didn’t need the help (and fuck you with the nickname) but
a second hand wasn’t awful. The brat was really helpful when he wasn’t bent on being a little shit.
“I’ll be up in a minute Alfie…” and then “Oh, where’s Dick anyway?” Tim asks, bringing a cookie
to his mouth. “I’m surprised he’s not chowing down all the cookies.”

Alfred’s mouth twists slightly upwards. “I left Master Richard in the living room with plenty of
cookies for himself. Although, the last time I checked, he was napping on the couch next to Titus
—”

Jason has the offhanded glimpse of white furniture, the swift scent of coffee beans and strong
smell of baked cookies, a pair of socked feet swinging on the counter—

“Dick’s not there anymore,” Jason says absentmindedly, fingers dancing on the keyboard. “He’s in
the kitchen.” There’s a silence that stretches for a bit too long until Jason twists to the side as he
feels eyes prickling the back of his neck. “What?”

Tim blinks in perplexity. “How do you know Dick’s in the kitchen?”

Crap. Jason clears his throat forcefully, pointing to the screen. “I checked the surveillance cameras,
geez,” Tim narrows his eyes and glances at the screen. “Can’t a guy check that Dick isn’t trying to
paint the hardwood floor again?”

“No, I— I just thought you said it so surely like you just knew,” Tim says bluntly, giving him a
pointed look.

“How could I know? I am not a fortune-teller.” Jason gives him a crooked smirk, looking
somewhere else.

“Then I’d better rush to the kitchen before Master Richard eats all the cookies.”

Alfred picks up the empty tray once he leaves everything on the work table and then whirls around
without mentioning anything else. Jason waits until Tim is seemingly busy flipping through a
clutter of papers to open the surveillance cameras.

Jason watches with his heart up in his throat a Dick seated on the kitchen counter, eating straight
out of the raw cookie mix with his fingers as if that was the right way to eat them.

The last time Jason had a vision like this, Dick had been nowhere to be found. He can still recall
the glimpse from that hill, the tallgrass and dandelions so vibrant as if he had seen them with his
own eyes. But that vision came almost abruptly to him, it took him by surprise.

This one, however, came almost swimmingly, in an easy, gliding manner.

As simple as fleetingly thinking where Dick was and summoning the vision, a flash of real-time
events that are not his.

Jason scrubs a hand over his brow, trying to take a second to quell his restless thoughts bouncing
from one place to another. When he opens his eyes again, Tim is already on his face.
“I know something’s going on,” Tim says, towering over him as if that’s gonna intimidate the
answers out of him. Amateurish, isn’t it?

Jason chuckles wryly, crossing his arms. “Such as?”

“Maybe I can’t read people the way Cass does, but I’m not a blind idiot either. You know all your
emotions run through your face, right?”

He knows, goddammit. In his unguarded moments, Jason could tell an entire story with his damn
expression alone.

Jason goes for the classic: “I don’t want to talk about it.” He noticed that telling the truth was often
more effective than making up a long-ass excuse.

Too bad it doesn’t work on snoopy brats.

“I know you’d rather not talk about it,” Tim begins and Jason does his best to avoid his deep gaze.

“That’s fucking right.” Tim ignores him.

“—Talk about this bond between you and Dick. But, as I have said countless times, maybe each
day is growing further. Who knows what we’re dealing with? All I mean is that you believe the
fortune-teller is the only one who knows this man’s face or whatever, but she might not be the only
one.” Jason can’t help but make eye contact with Tim’s next words. “Dick must have all these
suppressed memories, right? What if... you can access them, too?”

Jason’s stomach twists.

“And how am I supposed to access them? This is not a Bluetooth connection, you moron. This—
this is something we don’t understand!”

“Yeah, we don’t. We don’t know what it is. Or how it works. Or to what degree this connection
can reach? But we know it’s there, right under our noses. What if it goes beyond just knowing
where Dick is and vice versa?”

“You think I haven’t thought about it?” Jason grunts. “You think I haven’t considered it?”

Every. Goddamn. Day.

“You remember what I told you when you and Dick had just moved in together? To get to the heart
of the matter and the truth will come to light?” Tim picks up the card from the table, swallowing
before speaking. “‘The lightning represents a sudden surge of energy and insight that leads to a
break-through or revelation, the truth coming to light’.”

“Bullshit. You don’t even believe in this.”

Tim sways his good arm around. “That’s not the damn point! Yeah, this may be a coincidence and
we may be projecting our desperation on this, but what if we aren’t? Maybe all the answers are
there,” he points to Jason’s head. “But you’re too scared to try anything.” Tim says bitingly,
dropping the card and collecting his stuff from the table.

Jason’s mouth curls, nostrils flaring. “And why would I be fucking scared?”

Tim looks him in the eye before leaving, dead serious. “Haven’t you thought maybe you can’t
understand what this bond is because deep down you don’t want to?”

And then Tim turns around, leaving Jason alone with a comeback stuck between his teeth.

-----------------

A few days later, Jason is coming home after a long night, muffling a yawn against his elbow. He
drops the duffel bag with his helmet and gear on the wood flooring and immediately winces at the
dull sound. He locks the door quietly this time, leaving his combat boots by the door. The
apartment’ lights are dimmed. The voices bouncing off the TV and static crackles from the radio
the only sounds drowning the silence.

Jason sighs as he roams over to turn off the radio and that’s when he catches a glimpse of Dick,
sprawled on the couch. A smile, albeit a tired one, spreads through Jason’s face until he notices the
junk food wrappers everywhere and the many mugs of tea scattered on the coffee table.

Once Jason cleans up the jumble and takes a brief shower to soothe his stiff muscles from a night’s
patrol, he flops onto the couch next to a snoozing Dick.

This is the second night Jason returns late from patrol, later than he feels comfortable leaving Dick
alone. It’s only a couple of hours, but it feels like a lot longer.

One of his reassurances is the latest alarm Jason installed on the front door that sends an alert to
Jason’s phone every time it’s unlocked. But even all that security and alarms and shit can’t stop the
anxiety of thinking that something might happen. The Tower card that Jason still carried with him
in his right pocket, which felt almost like an extra weight, was a constant reminder.

Unfortunately, the ‘Madame Simone’s search’ wasn’t making progress as much as Jason wanted.
The damned city was dealing with a currently fugitive -from-Arkham Bane who required all hands
on deck, and that just meant less time looking for her.

Jason runs a hand through his still damp hair, and in doing so he hears a pleased little sigh beside
him. He barely registers that his other hand had unconsciously gone to Dick’s hair, his fingers
tangling in the soft strands. Jason’s hand pulls away as if burned and Dick pouts, tossing his head
to the side.

Yup, bedtime. For both of them.

Familiar with the ritual, Jason hoists Dick up in his arms and carries him to his room. He tucks him
under the sheets, but he doesn’t leave right away. Instead, he can’t help but brush the bangs off
Dick’s forehead, hand lingering in the soft locks.

Haven’t you thought maybe you can’t understand what this bond is because deep down you don’t
want to?
Tim’s words feel like a bucket of cold water.

Was Jason really afraid to know the depth of this bond between him and Dick? Feeling reflective,
Jason tries to muster a reason why he might be holding back from trying something. Was fear the
real motive, or was there something else?

Jason closes his eyes and tries to calm his mind, going into a meditation technique that Bruce
taught him in the old days. Once his mind is empty of thoughts, his surroundings receding into the
background, Jason tries to concentrate on feeling Dick.

He knows that Dick is right in front of him, but he tells himself to go further, deeper. Jason pictures
it as trying to peel back imaginary layers, layers that are in between him and Dick, pulling them
apart.

Nothing.

Jason tries several times to bring to his mind a vision, something, anything. But it is in vain.

Nothing comes. Nothing happens. “Goddamit.”

It’s pointless, these visions, or whatever the hell they are, apparently don’t come to him when
Jason summons them, which means he doesn’t have an ounce of control over it. Jason is standing
up when he feels a gentle tug on his cotton shirt.

“Do it again,” Dick whispers, half-lidded eyes blinking sluggishly at him. Jason’s eyes widen,
mouth hanging open.

“What?”

“Here,” Dick clasps his fingers around Jason’s wrist and brings it to his head. “It feels good.”

It takes Jason a whole moment for his five working neurons to connect the dots. Oh. The
realization feels like a slap.

“Oh shit, you mean keep petting your hair, pretty bird?”

“Yeah,”

For a second he thought—

Jason snorts but obediently goes back to stroking Dick’s hair, brushing the nape of his neck with
his long fingers. Dick melts, letting out a sleepy smile that makes Jason’s stomach backflip. A
silence spreads pleasantly between them. But Jason can’t keep his mouth shut for long, apparently.
Questions bubbling in his throat make themselves heard without his permission.

“Haven’t you felt anything strange recently, pretty bird?”

“Strange?” Dick asks, brow furrowed.

“Yeah, like you haven’t had these sudden episodes of seeing things, feeling things...? Things that
you haven’t seen before, that don’t seem like yours but at the same time, they kinda are? Yeah…
huh— strange things.” Dick’s royal blue eyes open.

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean—” Jason scratches his neck awkwardly. “Haven’t you experienced something you haven’t
before? Your head, how does it feel?”

“My head is fine, I guess,” Jason nods, hoping Dick will elaborate more. He does, after a moment.
“I guess it changes from moment to moment though.”

Dick grabs onto Jason’s T-shirt to hoist himself up, crossing his legs and facing him. Jason follows
suit after a second, their knees brushing.

“How does it feel?” Jason can’t hide the curious tone.

Dick tugs Jason’s hand lying on his thigh and draws it to his face, sweeping it across his eyes in a
slow motion.

“It’s like— like a fog that comes and goes. It blurs my mind to the point where I can’t think
straight. Like living half asleep and half awake. Most of the time I can’t think straight anymore.”

It’s an admission laden with raw feelings. Jason can almost feel them, too, as if they were his own.

“And how do you feel right now?” Jason’s voice cracks, no more than a whisper.

Dick tugs Jason’s hand up to the crook of his neck, propping his cheek against his scarred
knuckles.

“Awake.”

Jason takes a deep breath that sounds almost like a heave as if breathing suddenly doesn’t come
naturally to him.

“I always feel awake when you’re around.”

“It’s that so?” Jason blurts out, his brain spiralling out of control. Dick nods, letting out a long
yawn. “Because it seems to me like you’re falling asleep right now. Don’t play with a guy’s
feelings, Dickie.”

Dick lets out a laugh, flopping down on the mattress. Jason’s hand lingers in the air, missing
Dick’s warmth. He lowers it on the bed a second later.

“I’m not playing.”

“I know,” Jason reassures him, tugging the blanket up to Dick’s waist. “But I wish I could do
something, you know? I wish I could go back in time and stop this from ever happening. I wish—”

I wish we could swap places. I’d give anything to see you soar through the heights one more time.

“But then we wouldn’t have this.” Dick whispers, wincing as if the thought caused him physical
pain.

Jason is full of shit, he realizes, when he’s afraid to ask what Dick means by this. Maybe Tim’s
right, maybe Jason reeks of fear.

“Go back to sleep, pretty bird. Tomorrow you have a long day of bonding with the demon spawn
and Bruce, who suck years of life and fucking energy, so you’ll need your beauty sleep.”

“You’ll stay?” Dick asks drowsily, eyes almost closed.

“Yeah,” Jason squeezes Dick’s wrist. “I’ll stay.”

-----------------

Jason’s vaguely aware that he’s dreaming. He knows this because of an unparalleled awareness
formed by years of having to distinguish between nightmares and reality. He’s gotten really good at
spotting the small things that don’t go according to reality. He’s also very aware of his
surroundings, even while asleep. The feeling of the silken sheets beneath him. The gentle breeze
coming through the slightly open window. All the sounds and sensations of the apartment are well-
known by now, almost soothing.

But there’s something wrong. Something doesn’t add up. There’s a sound in the background that
Jason doesn’t recognize. Unfamiliar.

A sense of panic invades him, cold sweat running from the tip of his feet to the top of his head as if
he were on the edge of a cliff, a gust of air away from plummeting into a bottomless pit.

Without warning, the unfamiliar sound intensifies to the point that it is almost deafening.
Someone’s screaming, Jason realizes with a flinch. The glimpses of the dream start to dwindle and
he can’t grasp any of them for long enough—

Jason jolts awake, beads of sweat sliding down his forehead and the lingering stench of chlorine
and chemicals saturating his senses when he registers that he can still hear the screams.

Jason springs out of bed and within seconds he’s jerking open the door from across his room. Dick
is thrashing on the mattress as if he’s wrestling against someone trying to get hold of him. His
hands are fisted in the sheets and his head jerks from side to side.

The light on his nightstand is flickering, casting shadows on the walls.

“Dick!” Jason climbs into the bed, sliding his arms around Dick from behind and holding him
against his chest to stop him from hurting himself in his unconscious jolting. “You’re dreaming, is
not real!” Jason says against his ear. “You’re here with me. You’re safe.”

Dick lets out one last ragged breath and then wakes up with a shudder, clutching to Jason’s
forearms around him as if they were a lifesaver. Jason presses his cheek against Dick’s clammy
face.

“Dickie, I need you to take deep breaths for me, okay?” Jason brushes the damp bangs out of
Dick’s eyes. “You can do that for me?” Dick nods with a jerk of his head and Jason breaths with
him a round of calming breaths until it doesn’t sound like Dick ran a marathon. “Well done. You’re
okay, Dickie—”

“Is not okay.” Fuck. Dick’s voice is hoarse.

“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but it was just a nightmare. I promise none of that can hurt
you—” Dick lets out a whimper, twisting to pull Jason’s arms away.

Jason wasn’t ready to see that expression on his face. Fresh tear marks on his cheeks, damp hair
 plastered to his forehead. Worst of all was his vacant blue eyes, the haunted stare blinking up at
him.

Dick fists Jason’s cotton shirt with an iron grip. “Jason, you don’t get it,” Dick closes his eyes,
sniffling. “It’s like, like when you’re dreaming and you think it’s real – and then you wake up and
you know for sure that this is real and that was dream?”

“I—yeah, I know what you mean…” Jason is momentarily distracted by the lamp flickering more
intensely. He feels claustrophobic.

“This isn’t one of those times.”

When his eyes meet Dick’s, his stomach sinks deeper and deeper. “What’d you mean?”

“I think they are coming back,” Dick lets out a sob and the light bulb on his nightstand shuts down.
Jason doesn’t suppress a shudder, his hands immediately going to cradle Dick’s face.

“What’s coming back?”

“Memories.”

Chapter End Notes

It’s been a busy few months. I started working weekends, I went on vacation, I lost my
inspiration, and my anxiety was super high, but here we are, ready to finish this story.
Thanks for the patience.
❤
 When We Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go?
Chapter Summary

“They’ve promised that dreams can come true, but forgot to mention that nightmares
are dreams, too.”

-Oscar Wilde.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“How did all this start?”

Bruce asks with the certainty of someone who knows it’s about to hear bad news but
wholeheartedly longs to be proven wrong. Jason, being the bearer of the bad news, knows there is
no way to sugar-coat the state of things.

Damn, how could he begin to explain?

Hey, Bruce, I summoned you here because my mysterious mental connection with Dick is growing
stronger and has gone from being somewhat there, almost imperceptible, to being blaringly
present—

“The night we got back from the carnival, some weeks ago. That’s where I could say it started,”
behind Bruce, Tim motions for Jason to keep going. “After Dick read the message in the card.” He
scratches his chin, hoping that conveys everything.

“Did you know at the moment?” Bruce asks stoically, the only indication of his growing concern
his posture rigid as a copper statue. “That something was wrong?”

“I didn’t. Didn’t know how bad it would be.” But that wasn’t genuinely truthful, was it? “Not until
the first nightmare.”

Thereafter, the nightmares have only gone from bad to worse. From sporadic to frequent. The kind
of nightmares where your own weeps woke you up from the horrors, the kind of nightmares that
left you trembling afterwards, shaken.

It was almost as if... the words of the fortune-teller had turned a wheel in Dick’s mind. They had
awakened something that had been tucked away, buried deep in his memory. But now everything
was coming out and there was no way to stop it.

You couldn’t stop the current of a river even if you put up barricades. You could always slow it,
but it would only be delaying the inevitable.
“What led you to think this message was related to those who did this to Dick?” And there it was,
the man who always went straight to the point.

Too bad Jason didn’t have a straightforward answer. “Good question, tough to answer, old man.”
Jason shrugs in a gesture that is not nonchalant at all. Bruce clenches his jaw, obviously not
delighted with the ambiguous answer – or lack thereof. “Let’s call it a gut feeling.”

“Careful, Todd, it might look like you’re withholding crucial information.” Damian’s tone touches
a nerve, but Jason needs to keep his composure.

“The grownups are having a discussion here, brat. Piss off.”

Bruce lifts a hand to stop the would-be quarrel. “Have there been new memories since then?”
Bruce watches him carefully. “Something that can give us some pointer, no matter how small,
about what happened to him?”

Jason wants to spit out that Bruce should ask those questions to Dick himself, but a glance in his
direction makes him shake that from his mind. Dick is curled up on the couch wrapped over
blankets, gaze cloudy. He’s been like that for a long time.

Damian is sitting next to him, quiet, but with his eyes full of things to say. The coffee table is
stuffed with art supplies that Damian brought, but remain untouched by Dick.

Jason shifts his attention back to Bruce, who hasn’t taken his hawkish gaze off him. “Not that I
know of, no. Just the ones that Dick scarcely described that night. But they don’t provide many
pieces of information about his captors, if that’s what you’re asking.”

A shadowy figure stabbing a syringe on his arm. A bright light blinding him. A gut-lurching cold
that seeped through his skin all the while a burning sensation was gushing through his veins,
panic swooping over him in a wave.

Bruce makes a thoughtful noise, brushing a hand over his chin. “What are the other symptoms?”
(Symptoms, as if they were dealing with a goddamn bad case of the flu and not something so
fucked up.)

Jason wouldn’t like to say that everything happened overnight because it didn’t. But it was
impossible to ignore the switch Jason perceived in Dick. How to explain though that Jason felt it
coming before seeing the changes manifested physically?

Instead of saying that, he motions to their surroundings. Wasn’t the change in the room décor quite
obvious? Jason had to put makeshift curtains in the living area when Dick couldn’t set a foot inside
because of the bright light.

When Bruce shoots him an impatient look, Jason groans.

“Migraines, sound and light sensitivity,” Jason lists with his fingers. Dick was no amateur in the
migraine field. They came included in the broad list of brain damage side-effects, but these were
nuclear explosion kinds of migraines. “Advil wasn’t strong enough to stop them, so Leslie had to
prescribe him Sumatriptan, but the side effects are a son of a bitch—”

Pressure and pain in the chest, neck, throat, dizziness, nausea, and tiredness.

“And why didn’t Leslie inform me about this?” Bruce grunts with narrowed eyes.

Why didn’t you? How did it come to this? How could you let it get this bad?

Is left unsaid in the air, but Jason hears it clear as day.

“Because I am now his primary caretaker.” Jason scowls back at Bruce, his spine straightening as
if ready to charge.

“And he is my son.” Bruce answers back, a bit of Batman in his tone.

Tim interrupts them with a cough. “You can’t be seriously discussing this right now,” Tim looks at
him awry. “You were saying?”

“Dick’s been more volatile,” Jason continues, arms crossed. “Like when he almost jabbed a damn
fork in my hand,” because Jason had been, apparently, chewing some chips very noisily. “He’s
been having constant startles, anxiety. Heck, that’s just naming a few.”

Bruce assimilates his words and ponders them as if they had all the time in the world. Jason wants
to beat that deadpan expression out of him.

How dare Bruce look so composed when Jason felt like the whole world was crashing down on
him?

“Besides everything you mentioned, there’s nothing else you’ve noticed?” And there it is again,
Tim’s eyes, almost pleading, for Jason to say something. “Something out of the ordinary?”

Jason was, most likely, being the executor of his own hanging, with the way he keep tightening the
rope around his neck with the ever-growing web of lies. “Nope.”

Bruce just gives him that ‘are you shitting me’ glower.

“What are the specific things that trigger him?” Tim changes the course of the conversation and
Jason shoots him a grateful look.

“Sudden noises, like doors slamming or raised voices. The smell of disinfectant.” Jason vividly
remembers that time he was mopping the kitchen and the smell of chlorine made Dick upchuck his
breakfast. “Needles,” like when Leslie wanted to draw blood at her monthly check-up last week
and Dick freaked out. “Needless to say, pun not intended, anything related with a goddamn lab is
provoking these reactions.”

Bruce clasps his hands in his lap. When some minutes go by without him saying anything, Jason
lets out an exasperated sigh.

“You don’t have to be a genius to get the picture. We’re dealing with post-traumatic stress on top
of fucking everything else.”

Bruce nods vaguely. “I know. Sometimes, people experience delayed-onset PTSD, which can
appear 6 months or more after the traumatic event. In Dick’s case, we would be dealing with both
PTSD and TBI. Alterations with memory, anxiety, insomnia, and fatigue are common with both
diagnoses. One basically feeds and reinforces the other, it’s a complicated mix. It’s the perfect
storm.” Bruce explains, his mask slipping for a moment. “PTSD may develop following TBI due
to some factors, like unconscious encoding of sensory experiences, such as sights and smells,
associated with the traumatic event. But in this case, it doesn’t make much sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” Bruce tilts his head, but before he can speak, Damian does it for him
from the couch, not leaving Dick’s side.

“All this after a silly tarot reading?” Damian furrows his forehead. Jason looks down at the Tower
card situated on the table between Bruce and him. “It sounds illogical that something so
meaningless could have provoked an effect of such magnitude.”

“The butterfly effect: a butterfly flaps its wings and on the other side of the world there is a
hurricane,” Tim says, pushing away from the wall where he was leaning. “It means that small,
seemingly trivial events may ultimately result in something with much larger consequences.”

“Nonsense,” Damian grumbles.

“As illogical as it sounds, we cannot deny that all of this began because of that message. These
words,” Bruce points to the card. “Brought back memories that were buried in Dick’s mind. We
still cannot say if this person’s intentions were good or bad. Or if it was even deliberate, to begin
with.”

“How could we know in any case? Todd can’t find a mere fortune-teller. Is there anything you can
do?” Damian asks the last straight to him.

Jason turns to Damian with a grunt. “I’ve been busy, dwarf.”

Busy trying not to break down because of Dick’s progressively decadent state.

“We know she lives in San Francisco.” Tim chimes in, shooting Damian a hostile look.

“And what are we waiting for?”

“Uh, first of all, we don’t have her exact location yet. But we’re working on it,” Tim sends Jason a
quick look. “Second, you can’t just knock on her door and demand answers, brat. You could
compromise things.” Tim places his hands on his hips.

“And I’m supposed to sit here like you pair of worthless fools and be at ease?”

“Damian,” Bruce’s tone is enough to reprimand the brat. “We can’t get involved without a good
alibi. Bruce Wayne has no reason to go knocking on this woman’s door. Jason can’t either, you
know why?”

“Because Jason Todd is a zombie?”

“Knock it off, jackass.”

Bruce continues as if he hasn’t heard them. “Because Jason Peterson has no way of finding this
woman on his own. He doesn’t have the tech or the means. We cannot get involved without
arousing questions that we can’t answer.”

“It pains me to say this, but I agree with the demon. We can’t just sit here,” Jason shift his gaze
back to Bruce. “Fuck it.”

“Jason—” Bruce starts, but Jason cuts him off.

“No, I’m sick of our lives always coming after the damn Bat. I don’t give a crap about your ‘don’t
engage’ protocols,” Jason can’t help but twirl his gaze out of magnetism and catch Dick’s eyes in
time. They share a look and Jason returns his eyes to Bruce, unwavering. “I’m not your soldier
anymore, Bruce. I am your fucking equal. You don’t get to tell me what I can and what I can’t do.”

The silence feels thick, but not impenetrable. In another life, both would have left the room
slamming the door and not turning back.

This time, they glare at each other wordlessly.

“I kind of agree with that,” Tim says, cutting off the growing tension like a pro. When Bruce looks
at him, Tim shrugs. “It’s easier for Jason to get close to her than any of us. It makes more sense.
Plus, it would be a little more complicated to link his relationship with us.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ll see.”

Which isn’t an absolute green light, but it’s not a red light either. It’s his way of saying whatever
you’re planning, keep me out of it.

Bruce stands up without warning, smoothly ending the conversation. With a few strides of his long
legs, he reaches the couch. Tim gets the message, leaping over the other couch and grabbing the
remote.

“I’m picking the movie.”

“Get those claws off the remote, Timothy. It’s my turn to choose the movie.” Damian growls,
making a gesture of wanting to snatch the remote out of Tim’s hands.

“I wouldn’t trust you to choose a dessert. The hell you’re gonna choose the movie!”

“Back off!”

As a wrestle for the remote happens between them, Jason watches as Dick curls up next to Bruce,
his cloudy gaze brightening again as he watches his brothers fight pettily. It’s good to see Dick not
worrying about filling in any blanks, nor mediating any fights anymore, because his role is no
longer to be the one who fixes everything at his own expense.

“Settle down, boys,” Bruce says, wrapping a bulky arm around Dick. His hand instinctively goes to
brush the curls at the nape of Dick’s neck. “I’m the one who pays Netflix, I’ll choose the movie.”
Nobody mentions that in a couple of hours they should be getting ready to patrol. It’s kind of off-
putting, seeing Bruce so at ease about staying home instead of being out there. And yet, from Tim
and Damian’s pleased looks, Jason knows that Bruce isn’t doing it just for Dick.

Jason doesn’t realize he’s staring until Bruce raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing there?”

Jason comes up with something in no time, picking up his phone. “Y’all want some Thai food?”

_____________

Hours later, after a movie marathon and a bunch of Thai food brought from Jason’s favourite place,
there seemed to be a match of who snored louder between Tim and Damian sprawled on the couch.

Jason was half watching the romantic comedy on TV, absentmindedly popping popcorn into his
mouth. But most of his attention was on not shifting from his spot as Dick’s makeshift pillow.
Which was not the problem. The problem was controlling his body so that it didn’t give any signal
that Bruce could read wrong.

Dick’s lean legs were stretched across his thighs and Jason was fighting with himself, against his
longing to reach out and touch. Touch his ankle, brush his hair, his neck, his slender hands. It’s
custom, it’s an anchoring skin-to-skin feeling.

Bruce could pretend to be watching TV all he wanted, but Jason could feel his brief look every so
often. And that was fucking nerve-wracking. Jason was waiting for the repulsive scowl, the what
do you think you’re doing uttered in cutting words—

“It was a good call.” Bruce breaks the silence without warning or preamble, his voice quiet over
the soft murmur of TV and snoring.

“Huh?” Jason blinks several times.

“Telling me something was going on with Dick,” Bruce says and Jason avoids his eyes. Geez, so
they were discussing something else. “Telling me about the card. I know sometimes it’s hard,
almost inconceivable in my case, to seek help. But… I’m glad you reached for me. We’re stronger
together.”

Bruce doesn’t mention that it took him all this time to reach out. But they both know it’s progress
nevertheless.

“Well, it’s not like you weren’t gonna notice something was wrong with Goldie anyway. You were
going to figure it out sooner or later, it was better to rip the Band-Aid off as quickly as possible.”

“Even so,” Bruce says softly. “‘It’s the little things that find us out, the little things we refuse to do
in order to avoid doing the big things that can save us’.” Jason turns to Bruce hastily.

“Are you quoting Ralph Ellison?”

“I am.” Bruce confirms, a twitch in the corner of his mouth giving away a smile he wants to hide.

Jason thinks that’s it, there’s nothing more to say. But it’s not.
“I need to know... how certain you’re that this warning it’s about Dick’s captor?”

“Very certain,” Jason says with conviction. “Bruce, I know it doesn’t make sense. I know I have no
way to prove it. But I know what I feel, I know we’re up to something here,” Jason Jason tries to
convey the fatality of his words, the truth they carry. “We have to tread carefully, if this man is
really out there, waiting for us to let our guard down.”

“If that’s true, hypothetically, Dick wouldn’t be the only one in danger.”

Jason frowns. “What’d you mean?”

“This person knows Nightwing’s identity. Therefore, if he hasn’t figured out our identities, it’s
only a matter of time. We all can be in jeopardy.”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yes, hypothetically.”

“Well, that’s fucked up.” Bruce hums in agreement. Automatically, Jason takes his eyes to Dick
and Bruce follows his gaze, his face softening.

“You might think that after all this time, you’re ready to deal with things like this, the obstacles in
the way,” Bruce says without looking at Jason. “But we’re not. We’re never truly prepared to
watch the people we love suffer.”

Denial is on the tip of his tongue, but it feels like trying to deny gravity; like trying to deny that the
sun sets and rises every day.

Jason replies instead, “Maybe.” Bruce takes him by surprise with a squeeze on his shoulder.

“He’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

“You sound awfully sure of that,” Jason comments foolishly, trying not to look too bewildered.
“You mind sharing why?”

Bruce seems too contemplative of his answer. “Because he has you,” he lets out and Jason’s eyes
widen. “You could have turned your back on this, you had no obligation whatsoever. But you
chose to stay, to take care of Dick. You pulled him out of that place when no one else could or
knew how. You’ve been by his side since day one, and you’ve helped him come back to himself
step by step. You haven’t let him fall. And you won’t.”

Jason swallows the lump in his throat. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am.” Bruce says with all the conviction in the world.

“Well, shit.” Jason mumbles, unprepared to deal with an emotionally available Bruce.

There is a meaningful silence and then Bruce looks into his eyes.

“Why do we fall, Jason?” Bruce says, brushing messy bangs away from Dick’s sleepy face.
There’s a phantom memory of those words from a lifetime ago, but Jason shakes his head softly.
“So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.”

_____________
Jason has his eyes closed, but he’s not sleeping. Only sleeping pills could knock him down these
days. He’s on guard, always on guard to hear screams or have fleeting images flash through his
mind and then dwindle between his fingers, like watching the wind blow away a dry leaf out of
reach.

Every morning, Jason woke up with this feeling of having dreamed something important in the
back of his mind and for God’s sake not being able to recall it, just the persistent reek of chemicals
he knows are relevant in Dick’s memories.

The slight creak of the door opening doesn’t startle him; he felt it coming, saw him dragging his
bare feet across the wooden floor. A moment later, the mattress sags on his left side and then a
warm body is snuggling up next to him as close as physically possible.

It’s not until Goldie intertwines his cold feet with Jason’s that he’s forced to acknowledge his
presence. Dick had been sneaking into his room and Jason had been hesitant to comment on it,
fearing that Dick would stop doing it.

“You okay?” Jason croaks and feels Dick nod against his skin. He waits a moment. “You wanna
talk ‘bout it, Goldie?” Talking was tough for Dick. If Jason didn’t have access to some glimpses of
the resurfacing memories, he would’ve been in the dark.

“It wasn’t a bad dream, I think,” Dick whispers almost sheepishly.

“Oh?”

“It was about Nightwing.” Jason barely manages to not shoot upright. Jason rolls his body towards
Dick, who was already facing him.

“Oh?” Jason repeats dumbly.

Dick reaches out and lays his hand on Jason’s jaw, brushings his fingers over Jason’s stubble
tenderly. “I dreamed I was doing a backflip, but the concrete fell off where my feet landed. Then I
was falling.”

Jason places his hand on top of Dick’s. “How did it feel? I—never asked before, but do you miss
it?” Do you miss flying?

Conflicting emotions flash through Dick’s face. “I know everyone said I used to belong more in
the air than on the ground, but now— I’m not sure how I feel about it. I have this bittersweet
feeling, you know?” Jason hums in agreement. “Can you love something and fear it at the same
time?”

Jason smiles to himself, not missing the irony of the situation.

“One time I read that the opposite of love isn’t hate, but fear. So yes, you can love something – or
someone – and paradoxically, be scared,” Dick sighs and Jason caresses his hand. “It’s like you
said, pretty bird. You’re not afraid of heights, you’re afraid of falling.”

«Why do we fall, Jason? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up.»

Dick bites his lip in thought. “Things that happened to me before this feel kind of unreal
sometimes, you know?” The change in conversation doesn’t unsettle Jason one bit. “Because I
can’t feel the memories. Timmy said something about the essence of my memories being intact,
but the emotions are gone? So I don’t remember what it feels like to be Nightwing.” Dick says
thoughtfully, a note of grief in his voice. “I used to believe he was all I was. Right now... I’m not
sure.”

“You are much more than that, Dickie. More than a mask, more than a hero, more than a purpose.
You can be whoever you choose to be. But even if you choose to be just Dick Grayson, that’s
enough.”

Even in the dim light, Jason can see that smile stretch. That smile that could make even a
mannequin’s pulse race. That smile makes him wake up every morning with the hope of trying to
make a better world.

“Little Wing,” Dick whispers, almost reverently. And those two words serve to convey everything
Dick wants to tell him.

Jason doesn’t say anything, because he knows it’s after 3:00 in the morning and at this time you
can only say things you wouldn’t dare speak the next day. Instead, Jason lets his instincts
manoeuvre him and sets his hand on Dick’s cheek, leaving their hands intertwined between their
faces, faces inches apart.

Before long, Jason drifts off into a dreamless sleep to the sound of Dick’s breathing.

_____________

“Have I got something on my face?” It’s the first thing Jason says when he unlocks the front door
and Roy Harper stares at him like he’s suddenly grown two heads. “Dude, you’re starting to freak
me out.”

“I don’t know, Jaybird—” Roy frowns at him up and down. “You quit smoking?”

“Are you outta your mind? No!” Roy gives him a poker-faced stare. “I got a haircut the other day,
it must be that. Are you gonna come in or are you gonna stand there like a fool?” Roy narrows his
eyes but steps inside.

“You are the moron, of that there’s no doubt.” Roy claps his hands, letting his backpack drop to
the floor. “Well, tell me my duties, Jaybird.”

“These are the ground rules. 1. Dick must not touch the stove, at all. 2. No painting the wooden
floor ‘accidentally’ again. 3. No eating two tubs of ice cream, no matter how much he gives you
the puppy dog eyes,” Jason says with his hands on his hip. “And the most important rule: don’t
touch my stuff, gotcha? That goes for the two of you.”

“I’ve been exposed to the legendary puppy eyes since Dick wore green panties and pixie boots to
work, I can handle it.” Roy winks at him with a smirk. He doesn’t promise anything about not
touching his stuff though.

Jason sighs. Was it too late to call Donna? Knowing him like the palm of his hand, Roy squeezes
his shoulder.

“You’re going for a couple of hours, not a goddamn year. We’ll be okay worrywart, won’t we,
Dickiebird?” Dick gives a thumbs up, engrossed switching channels from the couch. Roy wanders
to the windows and peeks at the drawing perched on the wooden easel with a big, shitting smile.
“Cute. That you?”

Jason rips off Dick’s drawing of his eyes and carefully shoves it in his pocket. “Shut up, Harper.”

But then Roy loses the smirk when he accidentally drags the wooden easel with his foot and it lets
out a high-pitched screech. The reaction is instantaneous. Dick jumps upright, looking around with
the look of a frightened rabbit. “Shit, sorry.” Roy grimaces.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He holds Dick’s gaze, and after a bit, Dick frowns but lies back down on the
couch.

When Jason turns his eyes back to Roy, his best friend is watching him closely, worry colouring
his face. “How long has he been like this?”

Jason sighs heavily. “A couple of weeks. He’s been— unsteady. You know that there are good and
bad days. But he’s been on edge most of the time, and the medicine he’s taking for the migraines
keeps him kinda drowsy.”

Roy nods softly, twisting his mouth. Jason knows what he’s going to say next won’t be to his
liking. “I don’t want to be that guy, but do you seriously think paying a visit to this woman will
solve something?”

“No.”

“You’re still going.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.”

Roy shoots him an incredulous look. “Could you explain again how you connected the dots from a
Tarot card to a human experiment organization?” Jason exhales.

“Roy, at this point I’ve run out of arguments that make sense, okay?” Jason pinches the bridge of
his nose. “I have no fucking clue about what I’m doing, man. I just— have this feeling.”

“So you’re telling me you’re following a hunch, huh.”

“Fuck, yeah, I’m following a fucking hunch, Roy. I want to end this, once and for all. I’m tired of
sleeping with my gun under my pillow, dreading that at any moment someone’s gonna break in and
take Dick back. I can’t.”

Roy studies his face. “I understand, Jaybird. I’d do just the same if I were in your place. But
remember, even if she has the answers you’re lookin’ for, even if you’re able to track down this
man and burn them to the ground, it’s not gonna mend the damage done.”

Jason glances back at Dick. “I know. I’m aware that sweeping this man off the face of the earth
isn’t gonna fix things. But I’ll be damned if I don’t give Dick the utter certainty that he doesn’t
have to worry about this man hurting him ever again.”
That’s what I’d have wanted, Jason thinks. But is it what Dick wants? A treacherous voice that
sounds lots like Bruce murmurs.

Roy nods in support, giving him a small pat on the shoulder. “Be careful though. Fortune tellers
speak in riddles. They never say what you want to know, only what you sometimes shouldn’t
know.”

“You sound just like Tim, with his mystic ‘opening Pandora’s box shit’. It’ll be OK.”

Jason grabs his duffel bag and his keys, and then he kneels in front of Dick, giving him a little
smile.

“I have to take care of some things, so I’ll be back tomorrow morning, pretty bird. But you’re in
charge, ‘kay? Don’t let Roy set the apartment on fire.”

Dick rubs his eye, his mouth twisting down. That mere gesture is almost enough for Jason to drop
everything and stay. God, Jason was hopeless. “You’ll be back as soon as possible, promise?”
Jason lets out a chuckle, gently ruffling Dick’s hair.

“Promise, Dickie.”

Roy is unusually quiet until Jason is in the doorway, and then he snorts to himself. Jason raises an
eyebrow.

“What’s so funny?”

“You almost fooled me, man. But now I know why you look so different Jaybird. It’s not the
haircut, by the way,” Roy gives him a broad, heartfelt smile. “You look less sharp around the
edges. As if you had let go of something, you know? More you since I’ve seen you in a long time.”

“Okay…” Jason is lost about how to answer that.

“The funniest thing is that you haven’t even noticed the change, have you?”

Jason just looks at Roy helplessly.

“And I’m sure all this has to do with this thing between you and Dick you mentioned so vaguely
the other day,” Roy puts a hand on the door frame. “So how’s the gist of it?”

The feelings he’s been keeping close to his chest materialize in spoken words, with no way of
stopping them.

“It’s like knowing where Dick is at all times and not knowing how I know. Is knowing when he’s
sad or frustrated just by looking at him,” Jason explains looking at his hands. “Be what Dick needs
me to be. A form of understanding like I’ve never felt before, Roy. Almost like—”

“Being the same person.” Roy finishes for him. There’s an awkward moment of silence and then:
“Well, fuck. That’s more hardcore than I thought.”

Jason smirks. “Tell me about it.”

_____________
He can hear the clamour of the music blasting from outside, can feel the thrumming from the sole
of his boots up to his temples. It’s past midnight, but this is yet another city that does not sleep.
Like Gotham, night creatures roam the cobblestone streets looking for a way to drown out the
overwhelming routine.

He’s leaning against a light lamp, watching the flickering lights of the nightclub – waiting,
watchful.

He’d got this address off Betty Jones, who knew a guy, who knew a girl, and that girl apparently
had a close relationship with Simone, thus they found out Simone worked here on the weekends.

Jason is nursing his second cigarette when the nightclub door opens and a black-haired woman
paces a few steps to stand in front of the club. She looks quite different from how Jason met her
that night. Instead of wearing a sexy mysterious velvety dress, she’s wearing a white shirt with a
black waistcoat, jeans and suspenders. Oh, and she’s currently unsuccessfully trying to light her
cigarette.

Jason sees it as his perfect opportunity to approach, crossing the street and strolling towards her.
He offers his lighter with a flick of his wrist.

She looks at the lighter and then at him, the cigarette dangling from her mouth.

“You need light?” She hums, studying his face warily. Jason flicks the lighter and she draws closer
to lit it.

“Thanks.”

Jason nods, tucking his free hand into his jacket pocket. Simone glances at him sideways, taking a
drag. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I smoke in peace with a stranger?” Jason scoffs.

She lets out a chuckle. “Nothing we do is just for the sake of it. We always have a reason, we
always want something in return, don’t we?”

“Well, I do have a reason to be here.” She tilts her head and Jason sees a flicker of recognition. “I
came all the way from Gotham looking for answers, and I think you’re the only one who can help
me.”

Simone blows the smoke directly into his face and then tosses her cigarette away. “I had a feeling
you’d come looking for me. I don’t know what took you so long, though.”

“You didn’t make it easy.”

“Clearly.”

“And how did you know I’d come looking for you?” Simone looks up at the night sky and then
back at him.

“You had that look, someone who would be willing to do anything for someone you care about. I
saw that fire in you, that stubbornness.”

“Then you know what I’m doing here, what I’m looking for.” Simone nods softly. Jason takes her
open stance and composed face as a good sign to proceed, then draws the tarot card out of his
pocket, crushing his cigarette with his boot. “Why did you put this card in Dick’s pocket?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “It was a mindless choice, okay? I felt like I’d regret it if it
didn’t.” Jason crosses his arms.

“But why did you do it? What do you know?”

“I want you to understand this. Tarot reading is like a mirror—it’s the art of finding meaning in the
card design. I interpret what I see and can occasionally get guidance from the spirits. That doesn’t
mean I can actually read the future, or that I know everything there is to know.”

“But you know something, damn it. Stop beating around the bush and get to the damn point, why
did you write this?”

“Because I saw something!” Simone raises her voice, moving her hands from side to side. “That
same day, but earlier.” She takes a deep breath. “I was having my lunch and I was wandering
around the carnival when I spotted Dick Grayson in the crowd. It caught my attention to see the son
of a millionaire hanging out with the common folk, okay?”

“What else?”

Simone lets out a huff. “Then I was watching you, I’m not gonna lie, when I noticed a man with an
odd manner, watching you. At first, I thought he was a possible mugger, but this man had a fancy
suit and an expensive watch. And I felt it,” Simone looks at him seriously. “I had this... hunch that
you could be in danger. When I got closer, I could only see his eyes before he noticed me looking
and then he was out of sight.”

Jason runs a hand through his face, processing the story. He feels a chill running down his spine
just thinking that this man was lurking not far away and neither had the slightest clue about it.

“I thought I had exaggerated and so I went back to my shift. And what was my surprise when it was
almost over and you two stepped foot in my tent. I must admit I was curious about giving your
partner a reading, so I said yes—”

Jason blushes. “He’s not my partner.” Simone gives him an incredulous look.

“Whatever. So the more I got into the reading, the more I noticed that your partner was giving
quite intriguing vibes. But then the Tower card surfaced and this man stalking you came to mind,
with this awful energy and it suddenly clicked. But I couldn’t bring myself to say it, I didn’t want
to spook you with something that I may be reading wrong.”

“That’s why you didn’t reveal the card.”

Simone nods. “I wasn't sure at the time, okay? I decided to listen to my logical side. But when I
concluded the reading and kicked you out of my tent, something in your partner’s face made me
reconsider. So, in a thoughtless moment, I took a marker and wrote what I saw, and I put it in his
pocket. I just wanted to warn you, just in case.”

Jason considers her words. “That man, is there anything else you can tell me about him?”

“He was tall, dressed in an elegant suit and had a brown spot on his eyes. I’m sorry, I don’t have a
more detailed description.” Simone hugs herself. “So he’s a real threat, this man? Are you and your
partner in danger?”
Jason lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I thought you could enlighten me more about him, but I
seem to be back at a dead end.”

“If you came this far to find me, I don’t see why you won’t be able to do the same with him. You
don’t look like the kind of person who gives up.”

“I’m afraid this man may make a move before I can find him,” Jason mumbles more to himself. “I
need to be one step ahead.” Simone’s eyes suddenly light up and then she grabs her backpack,
hurriedly searching for something. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for my cards!”

“You want to do a tarot reading right now? Are you kidding me?” Simone finally finds them and
pulls them out with a whoop. She looks around and shrugs.

“This is not my ideal place, but It’ll do."

“You said yourself that you cannot read the future. How could this shit help me right now?”

“The cards can give you an eye-opener you didn’t know you needed. They can be your guide,
when you don’t know which path to go,” Simone says as she begins to shuffle them skilfully. Then
she pulls the pile of cards toward him. “Pick one.”

Jason looks up at the sky in resignation. Fuck it. He didn’t have anything to lose, right? He picks a
random card and then he flips it so she can see it.

She narrows her eyes. “The Hanged Man.”

“Oh wonderful, just what I wanted to hear.” Jason sneers sarcastically, taking a hand to his throat
mindlessly.

“It’s not what you think. The Hanged Man is about being ‘in limbo’. We are so used to leaping
right onto a situation and dealing with it quickly – it’s an act of bravery and strength to simply hold
back.” Simone points to the illustration on the card. “Just as the Hanged Man observes the world
upside down, this card encourages you to take a different view. How does the truth appear to you?
What do you see?”

Jason crosses his arms, looking at her skeptically. “I see you’re kinda on point, but I still think it’s
a scam.” Simone rolls her eyes but with a half-smile.

“I’m not done yet,” Simone puts on a solemn expression again. “The Hanged Man advises you to
hold back. Don’t act, not yet. Don’t make a decision. Remember that you don’t have all of the
facts. Take a passive approach, quiet your mind. Simply watch and wait.”

“So it pretty much means I have to allow events to unfold while I sit and watch it happen?”

“Yeah.” Simone shrugs and Jason glares at her in disbelief.

“That’s the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

Simone shuffles the cards again. “Shut up and pick another card.” Jason begrudgingly does so and
when Simone sees the card her whole face lights up. “The Lovers.”

“Oh, shit—” Jason doesn’t have time to feel ashamed about his burning face when Simone speaks
over him, looking all smug.
“Let’s be real, love is one of the main reasons you’re pulling Tarot cards as we speak. Don’t deny
it.” Jason doesn’t. “This is a card of deep, soulful connections. About the possibilities of deep
intimacy. Love is always a choice, Jason. It’d something that is best understood in the way it is
expressed. Don’t hold back from communicating how you feel.” Simone says and Jason tries not to
fidget. “But this card not only represents love. The card may also speak of a state of temporary
peace. It reminds you that harmony can be fragile and ephemeral. It must be protected or balance
can slide towards imbalance.”

“Right…” Jason shrugs nonchalantly. “That wasn’t such a bad advice.”

“And for the last—” Simone offers him the shuffled pile of cards and Jason picks up the last card.
She immediately grimaces. “The Tower Card.”

“What?” Jason splutters. “Again with this fucking card?” At this point, Jason had already read so
much stuff about it. Thanks for that, Tim.

Simone lets out a sigh. “It’s not particularly common to draw the same card as your partner, but I’ll
tell you the same thing I should have told Dick that night.” She closes her eyes to gather her
thoughts. “If you look at the world of the Tower Card, it’s collapsing like a house of cards. In truth,
the Tower reveals a flaw in its foundation. It’s like a tree that falls over because the roots have
rotted. You’re not the people falling into the deep though, but the prisoner held captive in the
tower’s darkest cell.”

“That’s good to know.” Jason mumbles and Simone smiles slightly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“No matter how you look at the Tower Card, one thing is clear: Change is coming whether you
like it or not. It will be like a lightning bolt of clarity and insight that cuts through the lies and
illusions you have been telling yourself, and now—”

“The truth comes to light.” Jason mournfully finishes for her.

“I don’t know what mess you and your partner are in, but I know every labyrinth has a solution. If
love brought you here, trust it to pull you through.”

“Thank you, Simone, for the strangest Tarot reading in my life.”

Simone lets out a soft laugh that feels like a spoonful of honey after a bitter taste. “Jeanette. That’s
my real name.”

Jason smiles back at her. “Can I walk you home?”

Jeanette winks at him. “I’ll be fine.”

Jason goes away not knowing if he leaves with his hands full or empty.

_____________

Jason comes back to the apartment the next morning, as promised. Thank God, nothing is in ruins.
He finds only empty soda cans scattered on the coffee table, and Roy sprawled out on the couch,
 dead to the world.

When he spots Dick, it’s as if a rope had stopped tightening around his heart. He can breathe easily
again.

Dick is sitting in the dining room, a can of Coke situated in front of him. When Dick sees him
coming, his pretty smile makes Jason feel his stomach swoop dangerously.

“You’re back.”

“Of course I am, pretty bird.” Jason smiles at him. “How about pancakes for breakfast? Are you
hungry?” Dick nods and Jason turns around, grabbing a cushion off the nearest couch and throwing
it at Roy’s face.

“Wake up, asshat. Time for breakfast!”

At that moment, however, Jason doesn’t notice the way Dick fixates his gaze back on the Coke can
and stares at it, intensely. Seconds later, a line of blood trickles down his nose.

Chapter End Notes

Watch me throw together many articles about TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) and PTSD
+ Tarot card meanings + 1 quote from The Sandman + 1 Stranger Things reference
and put it all together at 3 am.
 The Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known
Chapter Summary

“I’m just a speck inside your head, you came and made me who I am.
I remember where it all began, so clearly.
I feel a million miles away, still you connect me in your way,
and you create in me, something I would’ve never seen.

After all the lights go down, I’m just the words you are the sound,
a strange type of chemistry, and you’ve become a part of me.
And when I sit alone at night, your thoughts burn through me like a fire,
you’re the only one who knows, who I really am.”

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“Are we just friends if it’s your breath on my neck late at night or if it’s our laced fingers beneath
your covers? How tightly do we need to be pressed against each other before you admit that you
aren’t doing this for warmth? How many times does your thumb need to brush my lips before we
realize that we’ve gone too far?”

tara love / this. this is too far.

_____________

Jason leaves his most recently finished book «One Hundred Years of Solitude» on the nightstand,
stacked on top a mountain of books and next to a half-eaten turkey sandwich. He stretches his
upper body, feeling the satisfying crack of his joints. It’s late afternoon, with the last rays of sun
peeking behind the closed curtain. And if there were words good enough to describe that invisible
feeling hovering in the air, Jason would call it tranquillity. It’s a feeling still uncharted for him.

Jason still can’t believe he’s allowed to have moments like this.

There’s nothing to do but take it easy when it was supposed to be like, if you are doing nothing:
you are wasting time, right? Stopping to take a break used to be unthinkable. Bruce and Alfred had
instilled in him the constant need to be doing something productive.

Now, slowly but surely, Jason was learning to slow down a bit from that seemingly endless
rhythm. Practice the ability to just be, like some kind of meditation where his mind eased as much
as his body.

Besides, it’s not like he’s just passing time. He’s keeping Dick company, keeping an eye on him.
His latest migraine episode had been so bad that Dick just couldn’t get out of bed this morning.
Jason had cancelled PT session and all of his activities of the day to stay home.

He hadn’t left Dick’s side ever since.

Jason rolls carefully on the bed, watching Dick’s silhouette rise and fall with soft breaths. In the
quiet of the moment, Jason dwells about how he genuinely basks in Dick’s long hours sharing
stories and thoughts with him, just as much as he does spending hours in silence with him. Being
with Dick in stillness is also a gift.

He couldn’t believe sometimes that he was able to see Dick in his most vulnerable moments, that
Dick still let him in so effortlessly. The way Dick bared himself of any masks and shields made
him feel so important, in ways Jason couldn’t articulate.

It felt like a mix of being asleep and awake, like being in a dream that seemed too good to be true.
What had Jason done to deserve such a thing? Had he earned it or had it just been a chain reaction
of events?

Roy and Kory had always tried to get that idea out of his head, eradicate the conviction that Jason
wasn’t worthy enough to deserve good things. Kinda hard to do, bearing in mind that as long as
Jason can remember, he’s learned the hard way that good things never happened to people like
him. Only after years of reflecting on it and widening his view of the world, Jason had realized that
when you are born into an abusive environment, you are wired differently. Sometimes Jason felt
like his whole brain was messed up.

There was no other reason why Jason found easier the idea of going to hell and back before he
could let himself be vulnerable the way Dick was to him. He didn’t know how to be.

Jason had understood that even though he could talk about vulnerable topics with him, it wasn’t the
same as being vulnerable.

For him, it felt like if he broke down those walls he’d built, everything would fall apart. It felt like
giving up control, a control that Jason had worked so damn hard to get back after the Pit. He’d
spent years compartmentalizing his feelings instead of dealing with them. Hiding in the deepest
corners all the ugliest parts of himself...

So yes, it was like he told Dick some time ago. You can love something – or someone – and
paradoxically, be scared.

It was really scary to put yourself in that place, put yourself out there to be seen for who you really
were. Jason had never understood the mortifying ordeal of being known better than he did now.

Baffling, wasn’t it? He’d fought the most dangerous folks in the world. He’d fought against beings
out of this world, against literal monsters and won—

But against this, he was utterly, hopelessly, disarmed.

_____________

It had been a couple of days since Dick had been feeling better so, naturally, he’d gone to patrol. A
terrible mistake, if you ask him. Jason takes off his jacket and winces as the movement makes his
neck throb. He lets out a sigh, leaning his weight on the sink. He was, opportunely, home alone to
lick his wounds.

Cass, Steph and Tim had taken Dick to a movie premiere and Tim told him that they didn’t expect
to be back tonight. Which yeah, is convenient for Jason, bearing in mind the nasty gash on his
cheek and the throbbing wound on his neck. He looked like a smashed shrimp. He certainly felt
like one.

Jason loathed the idea of making Dick worry.

Jason had only come to the apartment slightly battered one time and Dick had freaked out. But he
had reminded him that bruises covering his body were basically a typical Friday night for him. It
was part of the deal he couldn’t elude. Dick had once paid the price, too, considering his own
collection of scars.

But this had been a close call. A slip on his part that narrowly costs him his neck.

Jason inspections the makeshift bandage he put on after knocking out the lucky son of a bitch and
notices that at least it did his job to stop the bleeding. With clean hands, Jason begins to peel off
the bloodied fabric.

The cut—in Jason’s opinion barely a graze—is not deep, but it stretches a few inches from below
his jaw and down the column of his throat. By dumb luck, his screw-up didn’t need stitches, only
cover the area with a dressing pad. The cut on his cheek however would need some butterfly
closures. Jeez, the one time he loses his helmet in the heat of the fight and this happens. Fucking
unbelievable.

With a damp cloth, Jason cleans the dry blood from the wounds and leaves the rag in the sink.
First-aid kit on the ready, Jason pulls out the disinfectant and wets a piece of cotton. The first
contact with his skin makes him clench his jaw, but Jason feels like he deserves it. He deserves the
pain for being so fucking careless.

If that knife had gone deeper, with more intention… a very different story would be taking place
tonight. The mere thought makes him shudder.

A split second of distraction had been enough.

One second of thinking about Dick, about what he was doing and if he was having a good time or
if something had upset him. The degree of his disquietude had made him unintentionally bring to
mind a glimpse of popcorn popping, laughter ringing in his ears, Dick’s lean hand intertwining
with one of Cass—

That was enough for the thug Jason was fighting with to get close enough. Only his good deep-
rooted reflexes allowed him to block the strike with his forearm before it was too late. He looks at
his reflection in the mirror and thinks how tonight could’ve been the end. There is a fragility in
everything, he knows it well. From one second to another what it is can no longer be. Everything
can happen so fast. In a blink. In a flash—

Impulsively, Jason throws a punch and the glass smashes in little bits.

“Fuck!” Jason shouts with the fire spreading over his knuckles and knows from experience that
they will bruise. “Goddamn.”
And there it was again, that gnawing feeling in the back of his head, demanding attention. Jason
didn’t know at what point it got this bad. It started as a secondary thought, something easily
discarded. It was always the same trigger: whenever Dick was out of his sight, be it with the family
or when Jason was on patrol.

He needed the constant reassurance that Dick was safe and well. If he couldn’t get that,
immediately, intrusive thoughts crept in. The what-ifs were like a never-ending tunnel, filled with
living nightmares. God, since when he had become this needy, this weak—

The front door slamming against the wall jerks him out of his thoughts and Jason reaches for his
gun, until he registers the familiar footsteps. Jason is barely setting foot into the living room when
a pair of arms wrap around his middle, squeezing the hell outta him.

“Oww.”

“Jay, what happened? Are you okay?” Dick momentarily ceases to squeeze the air out of him to
look at his bandaged neck and gasp. “Are you OK?”

Jason cups his hands around Dick’s face, giving him a soothing smile. “Hey, pretty bird. I’m fine.
It’s just a scratch, nothing to worry about,” Jason glances behind Dick’s shoulder and Cass, Steph
and Tim look at them with a variety of expressions. “Yeah?”

“Dick, uh, wanted to come back,” Tim says with well-hidden concern, hands in his pockets. “He
insisted on the fact. I don’t know why that would have been,” Jason doesn’t miss the sarcasm. Tim
grimaces then. “That looks like it hurts.”

Jason shakes his head, sweeping his fingers over Dick’s forehead. “You okay? No headaches?”

“Am I okay? Am I—” Dick blurts out, clearly upset. “You are the one who’s hurt!”

“I’m okay Birdie. I promise.”

Tim clears his throat to grab their attention. “Well, then we should go—” but he doesn’t move from
his place.

Dick gives them a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for making you guys miss the movie.”

Steph, who had remained strangely quiet in the exchange, smiles at Dick. “That’s alright. I heard it
wasn’t that great anyway,” her eyes linger on the way Jason’s hand is still touching Dick and Jason
draws back his hand. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“He’s in good hands.” Cass intervenes, gently nudging Steph and Tim’s shoulders, who are still
standing there kinda… gawking.

Tim nods in agreement and Steph smiles a knowing, broad smile. “Then we’ll be on our way guys,
take care!”

Once the door shuts, Dick tugs him into the couch. Jason lets him, flopping onto the seat. Dick
snuggles next to him, still looking uneasy. Jason brings Dick’s hand to his chest, palm touching his
heart above his undershirt.

A proof, a proof he’s whole and okay.

But instead of being reassuring, that allows Dick to take a good look at his bleeding knuckles and
Dick makes an alarmed face. “Jay—”

He lowers his eyes. “I broke the bathroom mirror. I’m sorry—” Jason suddenly feels stupid,
childish. A boy who doesn’t know how to control what he feels. “I was angry with myself for
being so fucking careless.”

Dick inspects his hand with a frown. “And you punished yourself by hurting yourself more?” That
was the story of his life. “I’ll fix it.”

“Hey, I’ll take care of it in a minute—” but Dick ignores him, strolling to the bathroom like a man
on a mission. Jason straightens up. “Be careful with the glass! I’ll clean it up.”

Dick comes back with his hands full of everything he needs. With a firm hand, Dick pushes him
back on the couch. Jason watches attentively as he prepares the disinfectant and then Dick grabs
his hand.

“This may sting a bit,” he warns. “In a second you’ll feel better.” Jason smiles with the reassuring.
Dick begins to wipe the swollen skin very gently and Jason can only watch him in awe. It’s like the
whole world has faded into the background. Jason had spent so much time caring for others that he
hadn’t realized how good it felt to be cared for.

Dick finishes dabbing antiseptic ointment and bandaging the knuckles and Jason smiles at him.
“You did great,” he acknowledges and Dick tucks a rebellious curl behind his ear. “I feel muuuch
better now.”

“I guess some things you never forget,” Dick smiles wistfully. It was true, Dick’s natural tendency
to take care of others? Nothing would rip it away. It was ingrained deep in him. Dick brings
Jason’s bandaged hand to his mouth. “It hurts me to see you like this.” The admission sounds raw
and Dick’s eyes moisten dangerously.

Jason’s heart aches. “It was just a slip-up, Dickie. Something that won’t happen again.”

Dick looks away. “But you’re out there, alone, and— anything could happen.” Dick sniffles and
Jason rubs his side in circular motions.

“I think I’m starting to understand that I don’t have to be on my own all the time, you know,” the
admission comes out of nowhere. “It’s— I suck at asking for help, but… I know now that if I
needed it, those morons wouldn’t doubt to give it to me. So I guess I’m not really alone.”

Dick nods, wiping his eyes. “B would come running. And Dami, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Jason shrugs.

“Timmy too. And the girls, they adore you.”

Jason smiles softly. “I know.”

Dick brushes his injured cheek with his thumb and when Jason winces slightly, Dick bites his lip
anxiously. “Does it still hurt?”

“Nah,” Jason chuckles. “I’m more pissed about this shit scaring my face. God knows I’m gonna
look like a pirate soon enough.”

“A hot pirate.” Dick corrects him and Jason quirks his mouth. Dick seems to remember something
and bares his neck, pointing just below his chin. “I also have a scar there. I don’t remember how,
but I know it was bad, too.”

Jason looks closely at the fine, almost faint scar and wishes he could kiss the phantom pain away.
“We got matching scars. Nice.”

Dick laughs softly. “I bet I could tell the story about every scar before, name who carved it. But
now they’re just… scars.”

Jason hums. “The Pit erased all my scars from before, you know. I came out as a blank canvas of
sorts. Now I’m marred all over. I wear my new mistakes and wrongs on my skin. But no Dickie, I
can’t name the story of each of them either. At some point, you lose track.”

Dick nods and then fiddles with his hands. He’s anxious.

“What is it?”

“I bought you something,” Dick smiles sheepishly. “It’s silly but I just— I saw it and thought of
you.” Dick’s cheeks blush cutely as he digs into his pocket for something. After going through a
few of his pockets, he pulls out a small velvety bag and hands it to him.

“Why would you buy me something?” The question comes out more baffled than he meant.

“Because…” Dick drifts off and Jason’s eyes widen when he sees what’s inside the bag. “I wanted
to give you something.” Dick shrugs and takes the ring for him, bringing it up to his face. “Take a
closer look.”

“What? It has an inscription in Black Speech, you’re binding me to you?” He quips because what
else could he say? He spins the gold ring on his fingers and the light on the coffee table catches on
it, making it glimmer.

There’s a red strip around the ring. The same colour as the Red Hood’s helmet.

“I— actually got us a pair,” Dick says suddenly, pulling a ring just like Jason’s from another
pocket, but instead of having a red strip around it, his is blue. Almost the same tone as Nightwing’s
suit. “I feel like… it’s our colours, you know? Like they represent us.”

Jason nods, still dumbfounded. Dick doesn’t seem to mind, mesmerized as he is looking from
Jason’s ring to his own, a soft look spreading over his face.

“No binding to darkness or anything. It’s just... something we share,” Dick gives him a small smile
and damn, Jason feels an overflowing emotion in his chest. A warmth washes over him.

“Thank you, pretty bird.” Jason tries to express as much as he can in his words, putting on the ring.

It fits just right.

_____________

One of the many things Jason can’t stand about the cave is that something is always beeping.
Always. They have all the equipment running and they generate some variation of whooshing. The
occasional flapping of bat wings doesn’t bother him as much as the godawful beeping.
Oh, that and the fucking glass panel with his tattered Robin suit exhibited as a souvenir.

“Why is taking so long?” He groans, settling back in the leather chair and propping his boots up
onto the furniture. Bruce, as caught up as he’s in documents from his most recent case, doesn’t
think twice before giving him an admonishing glare.

“Feet off the desk,” Jason puts his hands behind his head, the picture of absolute calm. “ Jason.”

“Maybe there are no coincidences yet,” Tim says instead, looking amused as Steph tries to draw a
dragon on his cast. Cass is sitting next to her, handing out the different coloured sharpies with a
small smile. “But it’s Babs, if anyone can find someone who doesn’t want to be found, it’s
definitely her. I’ll bet my entire allowance that soon we’ll get news from her.”

“I see you, Loverboy,” Steph teases him and Tim turns red. “You, huh, got a bit of a crush there.”

“What?” he blurts out. “That’s not true!”

“Sure,” she winks at him and finishes drawing the dragon’s tail. Cass hands her the red sharpie for
the scales. “But let me tell ya, denial doesn’t look good on you. What a foolish way to waste time.”
Steph says and Jason pays no mind to the indiscreet glance thrown in his direction because he’s
busy looking at his watch distractedly.

Tim gives her an accomplice look back. “Oh, right,” he clears his throat. “Well, what should I do if
I have a— uhh, crush on Barbara, but don’t know how to deal with it?”

“Easy,” Steph says, taking the green sharpie from Cass’s hand with a stuck-up smile. “The first
step is to stop denying how you feel. It’s not always a ‘feelings realization’ like in the movies,
under leaves falling with the wind or in a life-and-death situation,” Steph makes a mock gesture of
touching her heart. “Sometimes it’s like, you’re eating cereal at 2:00 a.m and you’re like, holy shit
Batman, I’m in love—”

“Language,” Bruce says as custom. They all turn a deaf ear.

“Okay and now that I’ve admitted my feelings, what’s next?” Tim says with a feigned tone of
excitement. With the black sharpie, Steph begins to draw the dragon’s head.

“Now comes the time to tell that person, of course,” Steph sighs dreamily. “You must open your
heart and pour your dying love into your confession. I’m talking about a grand gesture.” Steph
exclaims and Cass chuckles. Tim tries not to laugh.

“Okay. I already told her what I feel with a grand gesture. What’s next?”

Their exchange looks like an awfully rehearsed performance and Jason tries to not grab the nearest
object and beat the crap out of them. As a distraction, he glances at the elevator doors, his knee
bouncing.

“Now you have to wait and see what she says. Give Babs some time, but you’ll see he’s a sap just
like you,” Tim nudges her and Steph coughs. “She, she’ll love it. I bet every penny B owns she
will,” Bruce has stopped going through the files scattered on the desk to stare at them blatantly.
“And once she tells you she feels the same way—please, I beg you, for everyone’s mental sake…
stop the miserable pining and tear your goddamn clothes off—”

Tim and Cass burst into laughter and at the same time Bruce wrinkles the papers with the force of
his hold. “Steph!”

Jason just rolls his eyes up at the ceiling.

“Questions?” Tim still can’t speak, too busy laughing a lung out, so he just shakes his head.
“Goddamn, Dr. Phil got nothing on me—”

“What you just said is outright nonsense, Brown,” Damian’s whiny voice declares from the
elevator doors and Jason tries to not look too relieved. “As if love could be measured in the
greatness of a gift. Grand gestures only serve to inflate the ego of those who make them.”

“Oh, hi Dami, thank you for enlightening us. You should write a book about it.” Steph says
sarcastically.

Cass frowns at her words. “I agree with Damian,” she says and Steph makes an indignant noise.
“Grand gestures are okay, but love is often… quiet.” Cassandra takes a second to explain what she
wants to say. “It’s in the way we look at someone, the way we put their needs before ours. It’s in
the subtle gestures, the ones we can easily miss.”

She connects her expressive brown eyes with Jason and her message comes across loud and clear.
Cass is careful with her words, reserved with her opinions in a conversation. But when she decides
to bring something to the table, when she chooses to speak up, hell. Her words are always
purposeful.

Steph wrinkles her face and looks at Damian in apology. To Cass, she says: “That was really
beautiful. You’re right.” Steph hugs her tightly and Cass gives her a warm smile.

Jason hears the familiar pair of footsteps approaching and feels his pulse rising. He hurriedly
straightens to swivel the chair in time to see Dick strolling toward them. He’s in comfortable
clothes, sweatpants and a suspiciously oversized shirt Jason knows it belongs to him—or used to
belong, because oh god, Dick wears it so prettily.

Dick takes off his sunglasses and even though he looks like he hasn’t had one good night’s sleep in
years, the sight does something to Jason. He’s here, he’s okay.

Dick pets Titus’s ears as the dog stops by his side and Damian tosses the basketball from one hand
to another, looking at the two of them with a fond look. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Brown was attempting to give Drake love advice. How is he going to accomplish it with the level
of attractiveness of a frog it’s beyond me.” Damian throws the ball with a flick of his wrist and
Tim smoothly catches it with his good hand.

“That’s rich coming from you,” Tim says with a harsh smile. “What can you know about love
anyway?”

Tim throws the ball back and Damian catches it with narrowed eyes, masking the hurt Tim’s words
cause. Jason knows it isn’t true. The kid may be a little shit who thinks he’s better than everyone
else, but Damian loves deeply and loyally. Just like Bruce, they just suck at showing it. It must run
in the family.

As if he had said something out loud, Dick looks up and smiles broadly at him. Did his face always
brighten like that when Dick looked at him? “Jay.”

And hey, what can Jason do but smile back? Maybe his face lights up the same way and Jason is
unaware, as he is unaware of hundreds of things these days. “Hey, Goldie.” He feels his cheeks
warming up as Tim, Steph, and Cass watch the exchange intently.

Bruce makes a noise, bringing the spotlight towards him. “How did your walk go? Did something
interesting happen?”

“Titus chased a squirrel.” Damian helpfully reports and Bruce makes an ‘oh, fascinating’ face.

Dick moves to the table and looks curiously at the eye-catching drawing on Tim’s cast. “What is
that, an iguana?”

Steph gasps dramatically. “Does it look like an iguana to you?”

Jason mutes out the argument about goddamn iguanas when a popup window opens on the screen.
Thank God.

“Hey guys,” Barbara says by way of greeting, adjusting her glasses. She smiles when Dick waves
at the screen, waving back. “You want to hear what I got?”

Bruce gives Damian a look and Damian immediately understands. “Richard, shall we practice
throwing the ball for a moment?” Dick stops petting Titus and arches an eyebrow.

“Now?” he seems to consider the offer for five seconds before shrugging. “Okay, kiddo.”

“What did you find?” Bruce asks only once Dick and Damian are a few feet away from the
Batcomputer station, apparently not considering the cave’s echo.

A new window appears on the screen. It can be seen the paused shot of a crowded juggler on a
little stage.

“Pay attention to the lower left corner,” Barbara indicates. “After reviewing hours’ worth of
footage with such a vague description of what I was looking for, honestly it would’ve been easier to
find a flea,” she gives Jason a sharp look. “But I found this. Watch closely.”

She hits play and on the screen they see people clapping and cheering the juggler. In the crowd
gathered, Jason can spot himself and Dick standing there, quite close to each other, their hands
brushing—

“That’s us!” Dick says as he throws a pass that has Damian and Titus running to catch it so it
doesn’t smash into anything too expensive. Barbara lets out a giggle.

“Oh my god, they have matching t-shirts!” Steph shrieks and Jason wishes the seat would swallow
him up. “How cute is that.”

“I don’t see anything suspicious,” Damian says with his chin tilted up, once he returns with the ball
tucked on his side.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing?” Bruce grunts and Damian scoffs but listens to him, even if he
wants to be in the main conversation.

After a few keyboard clicks from Barbara, the footage is zoomed in. The image isn’t very clear, but
Jason watches as a few feet away behind them, a man in a suit with his back to the camera is
standing there with the utmost calm, watching them. The more he looks, the more sickening it
becomes.

“Nice clothes. Tailored.” Bruce observes.

Steph nods in agreement. “It’s the closest thing we have to the description Jason got.”

“So we got him?” Tim asks, ducking in time as Dick throws a deadly pass that goes wrong. The
ball lands on the work table, sending papers and the girls’ sharpies to the floor.

“Oops.”

“You wanted us to play here, father.” Damian reminds Bruce when he shoots them a glare.

“I mean, guys,” Barbara continues after a moment. “‘A tall man, in an elegant suit and an
expensive watch.’ You know how many goddamn people I had to rule out?” She scoffs. “But, I
decided to show you this because I do get to see this suited man in several recordings where Dick
and Jason appear—”

“So it’s him,” Jason says, twirling his ring absent mindlessly.

Barbara makes a noise. “If I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. But based on the description,
it’s the best we’ve got,” she says, typing more stuff. “I was able to trace him for a bit while he was
seemingly stalking Dick and Jason. I wasn’t able to get a clear shot of his face, not until this
moment.”

Barbara plays another video and they can see the same suited man walking towards the exit of the
carnival. Barbara shows the sequence at high speed on his way through the streets. The man flicks
a coin for a homeless man and Barbara pauses the footage.

“I converted the image pixels to high resolution,” she types something and the blurry image
becomes a little clearer. “I’ve run it through my facial recognition program a couple of times but it
hasn’t shown any facial match. I’ll keep trying though.”

Jason stares at the screen and wonders if he can finally put a face to the target of all his hatred. The
definition wasn’t good enough to get an in-depth description, but sufficient to get a gist of his most
important features.

Square face with a clean-shaven jaw, which might suggest he takes care of his appearance. Sunken
eyes but with a hawkish gaze. In his mid-40, maybe. Tall, like 5’ 9” but not that tall. There’s bulk
on him too: muscles beneath the expensive suit.

But what most draws Jason’s attention is his body language, the way he seems unfazed by his
surroundings, completely at ease. Hands at rest, head high, a straight back, no fiddling. And even
more off-putting, the uninterrupted eye contact on them.

Jason makes a vow there. If it’s really him, if this is the man behind everything, he’s going to find
him, no matter the hole he’s hiding in, no matter the time it takes him—

Dick suddenly drops the ball and gets closer to the screen. Damian rushes behind him, trying to
push him away.
“Come on Richard, let’s play somewhere else before we break something.” Damian’s urgent tone
makes Dick put no resistance, but nonetheless, he halts for a moment to look at the paused image.

They all seem to collectively hold their breath as Dick stares silently at the image of who might be
responsible for so much pain and loss. Jason clings to his seat, fearing to see the acknowledgement
on his face, the smallest hint of recognition… but nothing happens. Dick simply lets Damian usher
him away.

“Well, damn, for a second I thought something would happen,” Barbara says when Dick and
Damian are out of earshot. “If only Dick could remember something about his captors, gosh, how
would that help. But we are as unknowing as him.”

“Not necessarily,” Jason says with a clenched jaw. “That’s all you got from him?” Jason’s knee
starts bouncing again.

Barbara frowns, clearly frustrated. “He takes an alley that doesn’t have cameras. I tried to create a
perimeter around the carnival, looking for more cameras that could show where he might have
gone, but it’s a lot of footage. It’ll take time and as I said, how can we be sure it’s actually worth
it?”

“We’ll split the recordings,” Bruce says, already planning everything out in his mind. “We can
cover a lot of time, find where he went next. There are hundreds of cameras spread around the city.
There must be a coincidence.”

“Even if we do, as Babs said, there’s no guarantee this is the man. What are the odds?” Steph says,
pursing her lips. “For all we know he could be a bonkers admirer. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s an admirer, or a businessman, or a journalist. We’ll find him anyway. We
need to be certain.” Bruce says with finality.

Babs bites her lip. “I mean, some serial killers’ stalking behaviours tend to be preying in nature.
They survey their victims over a period of time to obtain information about their habits, and
routine. But this man, this organization, we know they like to break protocol, be unpredictable.”
She explains with a troubled gesture.

“It may be that he’s doing the opposite then, seeing the aftermath of what he did.” Tim adds.

“But exposing himself like that, if he knows who we are, doesn’t sound logical coming from him,”
Barbara shakes her head. “His M.O has always been thoughtful, premeditated, and goal-directed.
Why put so much effort into staying in the shadows to put in jeopardy everything just to see Dick?
Why he didn’t try to take him back?”

“It’s inconsistent with the way he works, yeah,” Tim rubs his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t feel like
he would make such a mistake either.”

“Unless it’s not a mistake,” Barbara says with caution.

“What’d you mean?” Tim asks, crossing his arms.

Barbara scrunches her face. “We know he let you guys get Dick back deliberately. He could’ve
disappeared with Dick the moment he knew you had found them. But he choose to leave him
behind. We need to find why.”

“Because whatever twisted experiment he attempted to do failed?” Steph asks and Tim gives Jason
a sideways glance.

“That’s the most plausible explanation. But regardless of his motives, or if he’s not aware of the
supposed information we got about him, executing such a move was a high risk for him. He had to
have a hell of a good reason to do it,” Barbara runs a hand through her face. “What if he wanted us
to know he’s there?”

“You think it was a forewarning of sorts?” Tim asks carefully and the atmosphere in the cave
shifts, an invisible uneasiness grows. Jason tries to hide how his hands start to tremble.

“I think it’s no coincidence that Jason gets an unconventional source warning about a man and we
get to see a man with the very same description watching Dick and Jason for no apparent reason. If
we’ve learned anything, it’s not look the other way of our instincts. Put it from a pragmatic
approach, I would dismiss it for the abundant lack of evidence. But… my gut tells me that we
could be close to something.”

Bruce nods. “We can’t risk dismissing this case, no matter how far-fetched—”

“‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the
truth.’” Jason mimics Spock’s voice. “We just need to uncover the truth.” Tim gives him nerdy
smile.

Bruce continues, unfazed. “How can we be sure this man hadn’t approached before without our
knowledge? We have to be one hundred per cent certain if this was an isolated case or if something
else has been occurring in front of our faces. That said, we need to go through every footage
available of the places Dick and Jason had frequented in this time—”

“But that’s going to take too long,” Tim drops the smile, looking worried that Bruce has lost his
mind. “B, we are talking about thousands of hours of footage—”

“This is now our highest priority, everything else falls into second rank.” Bruce squeezes his jaw,
his mind already set on it. “From now on, Dick can’t be alone under any circumstances. Going out
should be restricted to essential things. And Jason,” he fixes his eyes on him, shoulders stiffening
as if in precaution. “It would be prudent for Dick to stay at the manor until further notice—”

Jason blatantly ignores the part where he wasn’t included as he slowly gets to his feet, his body
language signalling something mean with the way Cass braces herself to step in if things get ugly.

“We are not leaving the apartment.”

“Jason,” Tim starts and Jason shakes his head.

“No Tim, we’re staying where we are—”

Jeannette’s words ring crystal-clear in his head:

The Hanged Man advises you to hold back. Don’t act, not yet. Don’t make a decision. Remember
that you don’t have all of the facts. Take a passive approach, quiet your mind. Simply watch and
wait.
It feels like the polar opposite of what Jason should do, but at the same time, he knows that’s what
he has to do.

“It’s built like a goddam bunker,” Jason flexes his fingers. “It’s got bulletproof windows, security
alarms on every inch of the perimeter, and most importantly,” Jason smiles an ugly, unhinged
smile he knows always gets under Bruce’s skin. “A person willing to use all their weaponry if
necessary. Fuck rubber bullets. If anyone comes for Dick, I’m gonna give them everything I’ve
got.”

No holding back. He was gonna give ‘em hell.

Bruce, hardly surprisingly, is at odds. “Damn it, Jason. This is not about punishment or an eye for
an eye. It’s about Dick’s safety. Remember. Justice, not vengeance—”

“And what use is justice to me while it has sat by while Dick was being brutally tortured and the
things he loved most were taken from him? Where is the fucking justice in locking up these
monsters so that in no time at all they can escape or be released and hurt more innocent people?”

Jason doesn’t realize he’s raised his voice so much until the bats flutter frenziedly.

Bruce collects himself before speaking. “Don’t you think I want to finally put an end to this, too?
But we can’t lose our heads in the process. No matter how much I want to hurt them, hurt him, it’s
not the right way—”

“Fuck the right way or the wrong way to do things, Bruce!” Jason barks, smacking his fist against
the table and his already bruised knuckles protest the roughness. “From the moment this man laid a
finger on Dick, he signed his death sentence.”

“And you are going to be the judge, jury and executioner at once?”

“I would be much more if I needed to be.”

For Dick? There’s no line Jason wouldn’t cross. No boundary he wouldn’t break.

Bruce looks at him like he doesn’t recognize him. “Look at your neck, Jason. Isn’t that proof
enough that you haven’t been with your head in its place?” He takes a deep breath. “You’re too
emotionally compromised with this case. I can’t let you get—” he pauses, reconsidering his words.
“You and Dick are going to stay out of this while we watch over you and search for this man.
That’s my final word.”

“Fuck you, Bruce!” Jason yells. “Stop trying to boss me around.”

Bruce slams a clenched fist into the desk and it snaps dangerously. “I am not going to let you put
Dick at risk so you can finish this man off!”

“How dare you say I would ever risk Dick in such a way?” Jason’s voice thunders. “If Dick asked
me, I’d get him out of this fucked city without blinking. If Dick tells me he doesn’t feel safe in the
apartment, I’ll take him to the place where he feels safer, here or Blüdhaven or the fucking
Watchtower. But for the time being, we’re staying in the apartment. Stop dictating our lives!”

“This is not about dictating things, Jason. I’m not trying to control him or you, but Dick’s not in his
best mind either to decide where he’s safe or not. He’ll agree to whatever you decide, no matter if
it puts him in danger. I can’t let anything happen just because you’re being unreasonable—”
“So let’s ask him, shall we? Dick is more than capable to choose what he wants to do. Don’t you
dare diminish his opinion like you’ve been doing all this fucking time!”

Bruce opens his mouth to answer but falls silent when he looks over Jason’s shoulder. Jason twists
around just as Dick says a “Jay?” from the cave entrance. Dick and Damian are standing there and
Jason wonders how long they’d been listening. From Dick’s uneasy look, maybe some time.

Dick looks between Jason and Bruce with a torn expression, almost like he’s making a choice
somehow—

“Let’s go home.” He says in a low voice but with a finality to his words and Jason feels his
shoulders slumping in relief. Dick reaches out to him and Jason is not ashamed to admit how
hurriedly he cuts the distance to him. Dick immediately grabs onto his arm tightly.

“Dick—” Bruce says in a rush and Dick looks at him, wide eyes filled with tears. But Bruce
doesn’t seem to be able to get the words out because in the next few seconds his shoulders are
drawn back like in defeat.

Dick snaps his eyes away and tugs him forward.

Jason doesn’t look back.

_____________

Dick and Jason have been spending time in the department more than they’ve ever been. Between
Dick’s debilitating migraines and the ever-present paranoia of running into ambiguous-suited men,
it took away the charm to hang out. Oh yeah, also the blatant Bat surveillance outside their place.

Frankly, being confined to a single place would have driven Jason mad in the past. Jason hadn’t
known how to stay in one place, because no place had ever felt like home. He could put everything
he needed in a duffel bag and leave whenever he wanted. There was no attachment to anything.

Everything he had owned was just valueless stuff, safe houses full of old furniture that didn’t tell
any story, that was disposable. But now it didn’t feel that way at all. Now everywhere Jason
looked things had a story behind them. A memory.

It was a feeling like no other, being so comfortable in the place where you were that you wouldn’t
give a crap if tomorrow you were told that you’d have to spend the rest of your life there. There
was nothing Jason wanted from the outside world anymore.

But even so, not everything was pink. So much time in peace and calm inevitably led Jason to over-
thinking, from the smallest things to the elephant-sized things. It became treacherous. As if
everywhere he looked there was something that reminded him about the stuff he was avoiding
dealing with, as Tim emphasized so much.

It was almost as if all the knowing words Jason has heard over this time hovered over his head, like
orbiting stars.

But it’s not easy to sit with yourself to sort out the entanglement of your thoughts. One thread of
thought can lead you to another and another and before you know it, you’ve gone too far. You’ve
gotten to the bottom of it all and you’re looking it in the face.
There’s no turning back.

In his case, the most pivotal realizations come to him at the most random moments.

Like when Jason had been doing the dishes and he came to the conclusion that yeah, Dick had
become so essential in his life. Jason didn’t remember anymore what it felt like to be alone. Dick
had balanced his life so thoroughly, in ways he had never foreseen. Dick could argue that Jason
was doing more for him than Dick did for him, but for Jason, it was the other way around.

He thinks about Tim’s saying that maybe he didn’t understand what this bond between him and
Dick was because deep down, something was holding him back—it was fear. Fear to go to that
vulnerable place. Afraid to know how far gone Jason was into this.

He thinks about Donna and Roy and Kory and how shocked they were to see the change in him,
that change imperceptible to Jason but noticeable to everyone.

He thinks about Bruce saying that we’re never truly prepared to watch the people we love suffer,
and how his first instinct was to be in denial because his feelings for Dick were not what Bruce
presumed them to be.

He thinks about Stephanie talking about grand gestures and about how many times he has said
what he feels in the way he spends hours cooking Dick’s favourite food just to see him happy, or
the way he reads aloud mimicking the character’s voices just to hear him laugh.

And Cass’ words make their stellar appearance again because Jason had never thought much about
all those little things he does for Dick that might say a lot more of what he thought.

Maybe he doesn’t say it in the old-fashioned way, nor with grand gestures, but he expresses his
feelings through simple, everyday things: when he rubs Dick’s back after a long day. When he
leaves Dick’s toothbrush on the corner of the sink, ready with toothpaste on it. Jason did all these
things because he wanted to do it. Because it made him immensely happy to see Dick happy.
Because taking care of him gave a whole new meaning to his universe.

So many things expressed unknowingly…

And vice versa, Dick did so many things for him, things that had a precious meaning Jason was
only now understanding, confessions that changed everything.

Like that day they had been waiting for the lasagna to be ready when out of nowhere Dick had said
all casualty:

‘I would have killed the Joker, you know.’ Jason had dropped what he was holding to look at him
petrified.

‘What?’

‘Yeah,’ Dick had shrugged, without imagining the impact his words had provoked. ‘If it had been
in my hands, I would have killed him for what he did to you.’
Jason hadn’t known where that came from, or why Dick had decided to drop such a bombshell on
some random Tuesday. Jason was never ready for those blows of frankness. It felt like invading
something that maybe wasn’t for him to see: private, intimate thoughts that Dick so naturally
shared with him.

Or when Jason had finally got up the nerve to ask why Dick had the habit to draw his face so much
and Dick had scrunched up his face and said with all the casualness in the world:

‘Because you’re my muse.’

At first, Jason hadn’t taken to heart those plain, effortless admissions because that’s what brain
damage did, no filter with what Dick thought and said. Dick’s brain was a mingle of past parts of
himself and new traits he was collecting. It was a whirl, but even so, Jason couldn’t dismiss it as a
misunderstanding. Dick’s feelings and emotions were as valid as anyone’s.

And yet.

Dick wasn’t supposed to feel this way. Jason wasn’t supposed to feel this way either. He was
supposed to be taking care of him, goddammit, not catching feelings for Dick, it was twisted, it was
wrong—

He understands that love is always a choice, but he knows that sometimes love just sort of happens,
too.

And shields, body armour and vests can’t protect you from it. It’s something you don’t see coming,
something you can’t prepare for. It’s like your blind spot.

And just as Steph had said so eloquently, holy shit Batman.

He was completely, irredeemably, in love with Dick Grayson.

And he was scared to death.

_____________

They shouldn’t be here.

They shouldn’t be hanging around, where they could be easy prey, where they were susceptible.
But ever since that day in the cave, Dick had been more edgy than usual. Dick was already well
used to his routine: PT session, going with him to run errands, visiting Antione at his ice cream
shop, and going for a walk with Damian and Titus.

Dick didn’t handle well sudden changes. The whole family was all over the place and Dick didn’t
seem to understand why. He knew that everyone was determined to catch the bad guy, but he
didn’t seem to correlate that it was the same man who had done this to him.

Not wanting Dick to feel any more unbalanced, Jason had brought him to an old special place for
him. But looking out the dirty window in Downtown Old Gotham, watching the sleek way the
neon blue lights by the diner sign hanging outside paint a picture of melancholy, Jason realizes this
wasn’t the best choice for dinner.

Everything about this place is shitty.

Shitty faux leather seats ripped and worn. Shitty feng shui. Shitty sight of an even more shitty city.
The shitty old-time food, greasy and bland. The same waitresses with worn-out faces. The same
diners trying to make it through another day.

Everything’s shitty: everything but the memories that these walls collect in their cracks and old
paint. If Jason closes his eyes, he can clearly picture the first time Dick brought him here years ago
when Dick was hell-bent on getting Jason to make peace with Bruce – with the family.

With himself.

Back when Jason still was on the verge of madness, when throwing punches had been easier than
starting a conversation because Jason couldn’t stand those pitiful looks everyone seemed to throw
at him—

But not Dick. Dick never looked at him that way. Rather, it was a sorrowful look: as in a state of
perpetual grief for him. He had seen something shattered in Jason and had wanted to put it back
together, never mind that the edges might cut him.

He would never forget that Dick had been the only one who had wanted to know Jason’s version of
the story. Dick had never been okay with Jason’s methods, but that day he had been willing to see
beyond the all-consuming vengeance: the retributive justice brought by his guns.

Jason can still call it back: the blue tee shirt with the Superman logo smeared with ketchup. The
hair falling in messy waves everywhere. The dark circles under his eyes like bruises. But above all,
the broad smile on Dick’s face when the old stereo played Island in the Sun.

Jason’s not ashamed to admit that that smile stayed with him for a long time.

Jason hears the clutter of cutlery against the table and blinks, coming back of his precious
memories with perfect timing to see Dick’s eyes light up with the blueberry milkshake placed in
front of him.

Dick begins to nibble the gummies and cherry on top of the whipped cream with gusto and Jason is
staring until Dick slides the drink toward him.

“Ahem,” when Jason arches an eyebrow, Dick points to the milkshake. “You haven’t eaten
anything in hours. Come on, try it.” Jason takes a sip of the sweet milkshake, feeling his stomach
swooping. He feels… warm. Wanted.

But the dumb smile forming on his mouth falls. “What the fuck?” Jason coughs. “Why it’s so
sweet?” Jason scrunches his nose and Dick laughs with the whipped cream smeared in Jason’s
mouth. “Seriously, it’s awful.”

“It still needs a bit of sugar,” Dick shrugs. “I was wondering… how did you know this place again?
Somehow it seems... close.”

Dick puts out his hand and brushes his thumb over Jason’s lower lip to clean the whipped cream.
He casually licks the finger and Jason swears he has a mini cardiac arrest right on the spot.
“Close how.” Jason croaks.

“Mmh. Close as when you watch an old movie you haven’t seen in a long time, but you still know
the dialogue. It’s not the first time we’ve come, right?”

“Yeah,” Jason says softly. “We came here a very long time ago.”

“Oh?” Dick bites his lip in curiosity and then takes a sip of the milkshake. “Who brought who?”

“You brought me.”

Dick’s eyes widen. “Did I bring you here on a date? In all seriousness?”

“What?” Jason says in a high-pitched voice that makes Dick startle.

“A date,” Dick motions back and forth between the two of them with his thumb. “If I asked you out
at the time, it was a date. Just like you invited me here today... and it’s a date.”

“This isn’t a date,” Jason chokes. Bruce’s face flashes in his mind like an alarm going off. The
mantra of this is wrong this is wrong plays in his head like a broken record. “Don’t say dumb
things.”

Jason already said that when he realizes how insensitive that was. A look of hurt flashes across
Dick’s face.

“And this?” Dick cries out, waving his hands furiously between them. “What’s this?”

“I—”

But no words come out.

Dick looks at him in betrayal and with a swipe of his hand, he smacks the milkshake, splashing it
all over Jason. The hiss of Jason’s chair scraping the floor with his jolt catches the attention of the
few diners. “Dick, wait!” But Dick ignores him and marches towards the exit, slamming the door
and rattling the threshold. “Goddamit.”

Jason pulls a $100 bill out of his wallet and leaves it on the table. He grabs a napkin to wipe the
milkshake sliding down his shirt to sprint after Dick. He finds him already a few feet away,
walking in the opposite direction of the parked Saab.

“Dick, please. Wait.” Jason catches up with him and tries to touch his shoulder, but Dick throws
off his grip.

“Don’t touch me,” Dick snarls coldly and Jason flinches. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

How everything went downhill so fast?

“I’m sorry— I didn’t mean it like that. Can we talk about it, please?” Jason dodges a few passers-
by on the sidewalk, trying to keep up. “Dick?” But Dick doesn’t stop. He takes off his ring and
tosses it away. “Get away from me!”
Jason picks up the ring feeling as regretful as he hasn’t felt in a really long time. Dick keeps
walking forward with his hands fisted at his sides and Jason strolls a step behind him, guilt burning
him inside inch by inch with every second that goes by and Dick’s not slowing down.

It goes on like that for a couple of minutes until Dick suddenly stops. His eyes are already reddish
and watery. The moment their eyes connect, fresh tears slide down his cheeks. Dick sharply wipes
them away.

Jason feels like he just ripped off the gentle and fragile thing that’s been growing between them.

“I thought—” Dick’s voice cracks and he lets out a whimper. “I thought we—” he takes a deep
breath. “Yeah, you’re right. This is fucking dumb. We live together, eat together, and sleep
together. We do everything fucking together, but it’s only because I’m your obligation, the stupid
liability you have to take care of.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not an obligation, you’re not a liability, Dick. Taking care of you—” Jason
tries to convey everything he feels in his next words. “Being here for you is a privilege. It’s the
best thing that ever happened to me—”

“Then why are you saying hurtful shit?” Dick shouts and the lamppost light flickers, catching his
attention away from Dick. “Why can’t you love me?” Is whispered so quietly that it feels like the
wind carries it too far away that Jason is sure he imagined it all.

Jason blinks the wetness out of his eyes, sniffling. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?” Dick cries out and the light flashes again. Jason takes a step toward him.

“The light,” Jason looks from Dick to the lamppost, swallowing the lump in his throat. “It twinkled
when you spoke.”

“And who gives a shit?” Dick croaks.

“Do it again.”

Dick blinks as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. But Jason has his mind set on it. He
needs to be sure that all the strange times the lights flickered before haven’t been his invention,
seeing things that weren’t there.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Make the light twinkle.”

Dick groans and shoves Jason’s chest back a step. “Stop talking shit and answer my stupid
question!” It happens again, but this time the light casts a bright beam and then the lamp burst,
leaving them in gloom.

Dick staggers back in shock and a line of blood slides down his nose. Before Jason can get closer,
Dick sweeps it off with the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

“Dick, you’re okay?”

“What was that?” Dick asks instead, uncertainty wrinkling his face.

“I think strong emotions bring it out,” Jason says and Dick looks at him vacantly. “I don’t know
exactly what’s going on, but we can figure it out, together. Let’s go home, Dickie. Please. We can
talk about it there—”

Dick takes a step back, hugging himself. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Stay away.”

Jason feels a stab in his chest. “Please,” he says helplessly. “I said shit I didn’t mean and I’m sorry
pretty bird. I’m sorry.” Jason holds out his hand, palm up. “Please let me explain, okay?”

Dick just stares wordlessly at him. And when Jason thinks he’s gonna send him to hell, he softly
whispers “Okay.”

But he doesn’t take his outstretched hand.

_____________

Dick had said he didn’t want to get in the car, that it was going to feel claustrophobic, suffocating.
Jason looks at his watch. 09:47 p.m. Bruce was going to murder Jason for being outside with Dick
at his time anyway, but what did it matter now?

Jason nods, letting Dick lead them back to the apartment. But as time lapses, it becomes evident
that Dick doesn’t remember the way. He tries not to dwell too much on it.

Jason knows the way by heart. He could get there blindfolded, limping or bleeding out. But, he
doesn’t want to go there right now. He doesn’t want to taint their sacred space—his safe place—
with shouts or hurtful words. So Jason takes the wrong corner and lets his feet walk aimlessly.

But not everyone who wanders is lost: that becomes clear when Jason looks up from his shoes and
realizes his feet had taken them to a place that Jason used to pay a visit whenever he felt too close
to the edge, walking on the tightrope.

Jason stops under the old office building and Dick keeps walking until Jason makes him stop with
his voice.

“I used to come here whenever I felt lost. I came on my pixie boot days. And then I came a lot
when I started as Red Hood.” He confesses softly, putting his hands in his jacket pockets. “You
wanna go up?”

Dick crosses his arms with a scowl. “And why the hell would I want to go up?”

“It’s the view, you know? High enough to see the whole city, but not that high that you feel like
you’re above it all.” Jason shrugs. “Plus, my favourite gargoyle is there. It’s a great place to enjoy
burritos and chips.”

“We don’t have those,” Dick says, almost with a pout.

Jason points to the 7-Eleven in the corner. “They got some good burritos.”

It doesn’t matter that they had waffles and pancakes not long ago, Dick seems pretty okay with the
warm burrito and the bag of chips Jason hands him. They stand under the building’s shadow and
Jason smiles slightly.

After some hassle of sneaking into a moth-eaten building and climbing ten flights of stairs that
creak very loudly, Jason pulls the cord to lower the ladder and opens the hatch that gives access to
the rooftop. This time, Dick accepts his hand to climb the steep stairs and when they reach the
roof, he clutches Jason’s hand hard.

The sky is just as polluted as always, but at least the faint breeze feels fresh and not heavy with car
fumes and garbage. There are small puddles from the rain from a few hours ago that reflect the
lights of the city quite pleasantly.

The view? The ever-decaying state of Gotham. Nevertheless, Jason always finds it has something
lovely carved into its symmetry, skyscrapers and history. Jason looks fondly at the gargoyle,
turning on his heels.

“How do you like the view?” Dick simply shrugs.

They sit down to eat their burritos silently, contemplating the city around them. Jason ends his
burrito with a heavy heart. The longer the silence stretches, the heavier the atmosphere feels
around them. Like a black cloud spreading over their heads, forecasting an impending storm.

Jason—out of inertia, habit, and necessity—shifts his gaze to Dick, mesmerized by the way the
city flickers behind him. This has always been one of his favourite views, but Dick sitting here with
him makes it take a different meaning, something almost ethereal in the way Dick’s hair curls
around his ears and the way the lights around accentuate his moles.

He’s there living and breathing in his glorious existence as he licks chip crumbs from the tip of his
fingers and Jason thinks maybe he’s brave enough to say that he loves him.

The words are choking him, scratching at his throat so they can be released from their cage. Dick
finishes the rest of the chips and cleans his hands on his jeans, crumpling the wrapping into a ball
and tossing it aside. He looks up and Jason opens his mouth to say it, say it all, but he takes too
long and Dick looks away.

The moment passes.

“Did you know they aren’t really called gargoyles anymore?” Jason nods towards the stone-carved
gargoyle. “Gargoyles used to have a specific, functional purpose—they had a downspout. So this is
really called a grotesque.”

“Gro-tes-que,” Dick tries the world in his mouth. “It doesn’t look like a gro-tes-que to me.”

Jason chuckles. “I know. It doesn’t sound gothic at all.”

“Gargoyles or not, I can see why this is your favourite place. I remember something about mine,
back in Blüdhaven. I wonder if it still looks the same. If everything looks different.” Dick trails off
and then he gives a little, longingly smile. “I have changed the most.”
“I don’t think places keep track of how much we’ve changed,” Jason says with a half-smile.
“Maybe we could go one day. I showed you mine, I’d like to see yours.”

“I don’t know if I still have a favourite place.”

“Well, you can always find somewhere else and make it your favourite.”

“Hmph.”

Jason feels like he’s been delaying this for long enough.

“It’s not the first time it’s happened. The lights,” Jason starts, spinning his ring to keep his hands
from switching. Dick’s ring feels almost heavy in his pocket. “They flicker whatever you are really
sad, or angry,” Dick turns his eyes to him contemplatively. He hugs his knees to his chest. “You
wanna hear what I think about it?”

Dick shrugs and Jason lets out an exhalation.

“I think they wanted to change something here,” Jason taps his own forehead. “For what purpose, I
can’t tell. The man everyone is trying to find, it’s him. He was trying to give you something. And I
think deep down, you know he did it.”

“How could I know?”

“Can’t you feel how different you feel? In your bones, at the tips of your fingers. You don’t feel
there’s something that doesn’t belong there, something that is intruding?” Jason says carefully.
“When I had just crawled out of my grave, it felt like that for a long time. My brain was like pulp
from the Lazarus Pit. Everything had this green tinge wherever I looked. It felt like I had stepped
aside to let someone else take over my head. Like seeing everything from outside my body.”

Dick looks out over the city as if lost in thought. “I think— I think at first I felt that way. Days and
nights just... blurred together,” Dick says. “But now everything feels a little… clearer.”

“Clear enough to perceive if there’s something there? Something that wasn’t there before?”

Dick looks down at the barren rooftop floor. “I don’t know.”

“We can figure it out together. But you need to talk to me, please. Like you always do. Don’t hide
from me. I can’t read your thoughts.” Not precisely, not yet.

“But you don’t tell me everything,” Dick whimpers. “You’re the one hiding from me. Why it’s so
hard to be honest with me?”

A pointless excuse forms in his mouth.

I’m sorry, I don’t know how to be vulnerable. I want to know who I am; I want you to know who I
am. I am stubborn, some days an optimistic nihilist, sometimes stupid, and short-tempered in the
mornings before my first smoke. With so much blood on my hands that it drips and trickles
everywhere I go. But I don’t feel guilty about it.

But that’s not what we all said before we ask somebody to love us anyway? We unmask our flaws,
mistakes and demons, hoping that the other person will still take us as we are.
 “Dick—” but as if Dick could actually read his thoughts, he edges closer to him, rendering him
speechless. He inches closer and closer until there’s nothing between them. He cups Jason’s face in
his hands, carefully, as if he’s holding something precious.

And then Dick joins their lips.

Chapter End Notes

This is the first part of a special chapter celebrating a year since I started writing this
story. I can’t believe it’s been a year! Thank you all for still reading me. It means the
world to me. Lately, it has become so hard to finish the chapters, but your beautiful
words motivate me, again and again, to keep going.

I couldn’t wait to get these idiots together anymore. And I feel like I can’t finish any
chapter without putting a cliffhanger. I’m sorry. :)
Anyway, who do you think had the reason in the cave argument? Bruce or Jason?
Both? I want to hear your thoughts.

Songs that inspired me to write this chapter:

•Be Somebody by Thousand Foot Krutch.

•Iris by Goo Goo Dolls.

The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known is part of a quote by author Tim Kreider.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!