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Dick was tracking down a lead in the northern part of Blüdhaven, snooping around in various warehouses. It was the part of Blüdhaven that was closest to Gotham, so really Dick should’ve known better than to think his day would be uneventful.
As it was, he was surprised by the sight of the Red Hood tying up the exact criminals Dick was looking for.
Jason had tensed, glancing up, hand going for his gun—when Dick pushed the creaky warehouse door open to take a peek inside—and then, when Jason realized who it was, the hand went away from the gun, and the eyes away from Dick, but the tension remained. Jason continued about, tying the criminals up, studiously ignoring Dick’s presence as he did so.
“Hood—” Dick started.
“I’m just finishing up, Officer ,” he said mockingly, “They’re all yours when I’m done.”
“I—They’re Black Mask’s people, do you have any intel about what they’re doing in my city?”
“Not much,” replied Jason, tone clipped. “You?”
“I have a little, maybe we could arrange a time to go over it? This case is clearly turning out to be a problem for both of us—”
“Nope, that’s not how it works,” Jason cut him off, “You haven’t been forgiven for your last f*** up yet. Maybe we can trade information later, if I ever decide to trust you again.”
Dick winced, stepping back. “Well, I’ll be out of your hair then, Hood. I’ll have some people come this way to put these criminals back where they belong.”
“Where they belong is a big, ugly a** community grave,” Dick heard Jason mutter behind him just as he walked out the door.
A few days after the Hood incident, Dick was heading home after a long day of writing reports and studying casefiles. Being a detective was certainly not all excitement 24/7. Most of the time he was sitting around, wishing for more time in the field.
That particular day, he was distracted, thinking about a very complicated case that had been stumping him for longer than he’d like. He should’ve known better than to take that route home, though it probably wouldn’t have mattered—whoever wanted him was professional enough to have all the streets around the precinct covered.
Ah, chloroform, he didn’t miss it. It’d been a while since he’d last had it pressed against his face. He supposed he was due for a run in with the stuff. The chloroform appeared at the same time as the wrenching of his arms behind his back, and the restraining of his legs. Dick tried not to fight too hard, he was still Detective Grayson, a civilian by vigilante standards, afterall. He had to keep up appearances. For that reason, he also pretended to fall unconscious long before he actually did. He’d built up an immunity to the drug of course, but that could only work with him as Nightwing.
When Dick woke up, he found himself face to face with Black Mask. The man sat behind a desk, with Dick, sitting, bound to a chair in front of him. With a start, Dick realized that Roman must’ve been watching him while he was unconscious. Dick suppressed a shudder.
“Wha—Where am I? What do you want?” He asked, pretending to be groggy from waking up.
“Well, Officer Grayson, you are the Red Hood’s dirty pig informant, so I’m betting there’s a lot I can get out of you.”
Dick resisted the urge to laugh, or explain himself. There wasn’t much to explain anyway, not without revealing secrets that he would rather die protecting. Instead, he forced his expression into something more like shock, and resignation, deciding to play this role to the end. He could feel the instincts of manipulation and deception settling back over him like a very familiar blanket. Playing spy for a while had given him the opportunity to hone those skills. If there was any beneficial thing that could be taken away from that whole experience, it was what good he could now do with the abilities he’d enhanced during that time.
“I don’t know who the f*** that is,” Dick said, thinking about the actions of several of his coworkers for reference on how to act like a dirty cop.
“Don’t lie to me,” snarled Roman. “My people know you spoke with him at the last operation of mine that he busted.”
Ah, so that’s how he knew. One of the thugs must not have been fully unconscious during Dick’s conversation with Jason the other day.
“Look man, I’m just his source guy sometimes, and he doesn’t even like me very much lately. So I don’t know what to tell you. Just let me go, and we can call it a day.” Dick made himself fidget, as if he was nervous about the threatening crime boss sitting across from him.
“So what? You don’t have anything for me? Maybe I should just torture you until you die, how about that?”
“N—No,” Dick made himself stutter, “I—I can still help you...for a price.”
“Even now, you argue for your checkbook,” Roman chuckled, “The world goes ‘round, and dirty cops never change.”
“What can I say,” Dick smirked, “The Hood didn’t pay me enough. I’m sure you’ll be different…”
Roman smiled at him, a dangerous smile that said he couldn’t wait to use him up and leave his body in a ditch.
Dick smiled back.
Jason got an alert that the alarms at one of his safehouses had been tripped. It wasn’t one of his favorite safehouses or anything—in fact, it was due for a restock, but he knew it would be better to check it out as soon as he could anyway.
He swung through the air, making his way through Crime Alley to where he knew the safehouse to be. Any intruders in his territory would be dealt with, crappy safehouse or not.
He found that much of his security system had been quietly disabled…except for a single, simple sensor. Whoever did this wanted him to come here.
The door to his safehouse was ajar, and Jason carefully pushed it open, peering through the crack.
His lights were on, and there were the sounds of ransacking and breaking glass.
Jason grabbed the guns from his hips, and slammed open the door.
There stood Dick, out of uniform, surrounded by several of Black Mask‘s people.
Jason snarled at the sight, thoughts of the man’s betrayal swirling through his mind.
Dick’s eyes widened, shooting a pleading look at him as if trying to convey something. Jason ignored it in his anger.
“Let’s go! He’s here!” yelled Dick.
“Traitor.” He growled darkly.
Something flickered in the traitor’s expression, before smoothing out as if it had never been there.
Jason didn’t think. He just lifted his guns, and fired.
Unfortunately, they were rubber bullets, and he’s pretty sure he only managed to clip the lying b****** in the leg.
He did manage to take down at least three of the others before the rest escaped quickly through the window.
“So, I guess Hoodie really isn’t on your side after all,” said Roman, pacing.
“I—I don’t understand what happened,” Dick sputtered, feigning fear, “I disabled all of his security, he wasn’t supposed to show.”
“That’s because I had one of my people purposely sabotage you. I needed to make sure you weren’t still on his side. This,” he said, putting his hand on Dick’s leg where the bullet hit him, “is the proof I was looking for.” He pressed down, Dick gasped as if in pain. It really didn’t feel nice.
“W—What?” He said in indignation, “Of course I’m on your side, that guy hates me.”
“So I’m told.” Roman said, uncaring. He dug his fingers in.
“Stop!” Dick strained against the ropes binding his hands behind the chair.
The man let up, briefly, “You got the package I sent you to get?”
He was referring to the fake intel Dick had promised was stashed in Hood’s safehouse, intel that he had planted while no one was looking. The moment Roman plugged that thing in, Oracle would have complete access to all of the crime boss’s servers. “Yes, of course! Don’t forget to plug it into a high powered computer, I’m sure it’ll require a lot of decryption…”
Roman waved his hand, “Yeah, yeah, whatever, my people have it covered.”
“I’d like my payment now,” Dick said, glaring at him.
The man grinned malevolently, “You’ll get your payment, when I let you go and the Hood goes after you. The people he captured have quite the story to tell.”
Dick slid a look of fear onto his face.
Jason didn't even give him the chance to explain.
Not that Dick was surprised about this, of course, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt.
Roman had released him onto Gotham's streets, and sent several of his people to tail him. Dick of course, was not supposed to know about that particular detail, but it's not like the low-level thugs had any actual expertise when it came to anything, least of all properly tailing a person.
Ah, so this was one more test, to confirm that he was truly against the Hood, before Roman dared plug in the USB. So it was best that Jason's first reaction upon seeing him was to lash out anyway, and Dick didn't even get a moment to get a word in before Hood was slamming him into the ground.
Well, it seemed these days the only reliable fact was that his family no longer trusted him. It was a good thing he needed Jason to beat him up for the operation, then. Internally, Dick sighed, he wished it didn't have to be like this. He hated lying, detested spying, but he'd learned long ago that sometimes there's no time for debate, and often the situation called for the best solution, not necessarily a good one.
Jason always acted on his emotions, it was something about him that never changed. It was reliable qualities like that, that Dick had been trained to notice, to exploit when needed. Dick did what he had to do, Jason did what he wanted to do. Many times, Dick had had to shoulder the burden of doing what was needed, even if it hurt those around him. He would gladly carry these responsibilities for the rest of his life, if only his siblings didn't have to, if only his family lived.
And so, Officer Grayson fought with the Red Hood in a back alleyway as the man spewed curses about him and how he couldn't trust someone who'd betray him just to meet their own ends and not even think to tell him about the undercover op—
Dick, of course, was still being watched. So he fought like a random inexperienced police officer, not like Nightwing, professional vigilante.
Jason didn't seem to notice.
"Is this the new you then? Huh? You stab us in the back at every chance you get, all for a supposed “mission”? Is this Dick the spy then? Is that who you are now?"
Dick dodged a fist, got kicked in the knee. It’s probably just the pit rage, he reminded himself, another thing I can count on.
"You know, I didn't think you of all people would pull something like this the first time, I don't know why I didn't see it with this one, you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."
Jason punched him in the stomach, causing him to sink further to the ground.
"I don't even know if I'd grieve again, if I found out you were dead. How would I know it wasn't just another lie that you failed to mention to me?"
Dick was just glad his tails were too far away to hear what Jason was saying.
"Do you have any idea what Black Mask is capable of? Have you forgotten who the f*** he is ? You can't just go undercover to work with him against me, without telling me!"
His little brother sounded so upset, Dick only wished he had time to explain.
"Whatever happened to communication? Is that a foreign concept to you spies? And here I thought we were actually family."
Jason headbutted him right in the face, breaking what Dick was pretty sure was his nose. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his face, flowing over his lips, past his chin to drip to the ground. Dick's vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, curling in on himself, he had to play it up, afterall. Even though the wounds inflicted were mostly just surface ones. They had an audience, and Dick could not fail to perform.
Above him, Jason scoffed, as if he could see through Dick's pretending. Still though, DIck could see his hands shaking, could see as the pent up energy within his little brother's body drained, tension leaving his shoulders. In a moment, Jason was gone, and Dick closed his eyes, giving into the exhaustion of having had to pretend to be someone he wasn't under very stressful circumstances for the past few days. It was alright, nothing...Dick...couldn't handle...
Jason felt drained. He hadn't felt that angry since well...the last time Goldie had pulled something like this.
The feeling of Dick’s face against his fist was quite familiar by this point. Each time he’d done it blurred together, echoing in his mind as green tinted his vision.
Jason made it back to one of his safehouses, somehow. He wasn’t sure when he got there, or how, but when he finally came back to himself, it was to the sight of a familiar kitchenette.
He felt too restless to sleep, but too exhausted to do anything productive at the same time. He didn’t trust himself to go out as Red Hood. In this state, he was a danger to anyone around him.
Jason’s mind raced, even as his body collapsed on the couch. He turned the tv on, letting himself get lost in some random sitcom.
He needed to calm down, probably do something like think things through. Though Jason knew that he was most likely going to just go about his day tomorrow, as if today hadn’t happened.
Always running away, still that same self-preserving street kid who only knew how to survive. Well, it’d worked for him so far, minus the dying part of course.
Hours later, technically into the next morning, Jason’s comm beeped. What could Barbie possibly want at this time of morning? Not even villains were awake at 6:00am, usually this hour was sacred.
“Hood?”
Well, apparently not anymore.
Sighing, Jason brought his finger to his ear, “Yeah? How’d you know I was awake?”
“Unimportant,” she said, all business, “I need you to check on Nightwing for me.”
Jason’s mind blanked, and then he scoffed, “You kidding me?” His voice was shaky. “What the f*** did he do this time?”
Oracle had no time for overly dramatic interbat-relations.
“A few hours ago, Black Mask’s servers went online, Dick’s code caught my attention. I was able to get every little bit of data ever entered into one of Mask’s computers. It was more than we’ve been able to get from him in years. Dick’s work really was genius. I tried to get in contact with him, but his trackers aren’t working, his phone’s out of the picture, and I can’t find him on any camera. I’m worried he went undercover without a backup plan for when Mask figured it out.”
Jason attempted unsuccessfully to tamp down his feelings of guilt and concern.
“Alright O, I’m on it.” He croaked, already heading out the door.
Adrenaline flowed through his veins, spurring him on.
His earlier hate had fled, leaving behind nothing but cold determination. He was angry at his brother, sure, but he didn’t want the guy to die… right?
And if what Oracle said was true, then it just might have been worth it for Dick to do what he did, just maybe.
Jason headed to where he’d last seen Dick.
He found him about a block away from where they’d fought, being tortured in a rundown warehouse.
If it weren’t for the screams, Jason probably would have passed it and not even known.
Black Mask stood over Dick, who was bound to a table. Goldie was missing his shirt, and his torso was littered with burns and bruises. His feet were bare too, Roman was in the process of whipping them.
For the second time in twenty four hours, Jason felt the anger rise and the pit take over.
The emotion was stronger this time, more powerful, Jason thought distantly.
There were about thirty thugs surrounding Roman, guarding the man’s sadistic torture session.
Jason drew his guns, and tried not to think about the last time he’d used them to pistol whip Dickie across the face.
The first five thugs went down quickly, the next ten following right behind them. Jason reloaded. Some part of his subconscious aimed for kneecaps and non-lethal areas. The pit aimed for whatever was convenient. Nevertheless, if Jason had been paying attention, he’d have noticed that not one of his bullets missed a target.
By the time he’d made his way through all thirty of them, he had two loaded guns left, though they weren’t the same ones he’d started out with.
Roman had fled sometime during the action, like the coward he was. Jason was halfway out the door to find him when he heard a sound from behind him.
It was Dick.
Jason startled, hurrying towards his brother's side. The anger once again drained from his body.
Dick’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, they looked at him without seeing. But as Jason neared, something foreign came into them: fear.
Jason dropped his guns on the floor, trying not to think about how he’d never seen Dick look at him like that.
He bent to untie his brother from the table, and Dick flinched away from him, unintelligible noises stumbling out of his throat.
“Shh, Dickie, it’s alright.” Jason said frantically, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”
He finished removing the last of the restraints just as Dick passed out from what was likely incredible pain.
Jason efficiently cleaned and bandaged his brother’s wounds, feeling numb. Dick’s body was covered in scars, the recent--but not too recent ones were what caught his attention. Jason didn’t want to think about when Dick must’ve gotten them.
Instead, Jason thought about something that had been bothering him before, little details here and there that he had missed. Namely: Dick hadn't been wearing his Nightwing suit during all of their interactions in the past few days. In fact, he'd been dressed quite like a detective.
It dawned on Jason in a moment, and he felt horrified. Dick had been a detective that day in the warehouse with Black Mask's people. Back when this all started.
Jason's mind was racing when Dick groaned, eyes cracking open, "Wha—Jay?"
"Yeah, it's me Dickie. I'm here."
"What—What happened?"
Jason sighed, "What do you remember?"
Dick's brows furrowed in thought, "I...I had to go undercover..."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Jason asked.
Recognition flashed in his brother's eyes, He seemed to be getting his energy back.
"There was no time, Roman kidnapped me, I had to play along."
"But—there had to have been some time you could have explained the situation to me…"
"Would you believe me if I had?" Dick's gaze was piercing.
“I—yeah, okay, that’s fair.” Jason paused, “Were you going to tell me that you went undercover to save my a**? Or were you just going to keep letting me hate you?”
Dick was silent.
Jason continued, “I mean, sure. Maybe I wouldn’t have believed you. But maybe I would have. You weren’t even going to give me the choice.” Something occurred to him then. “We didn’t give you the chance to explain about Spyral…was that situation similar to this?”
Dick sighed, “I’m not up for having this conversation right now. Maybe later, after I wake up.”
He burrowed further into the couch, closing his eyes.
“One more thing,” Jason said, unwilling to let it end just like that. “Those scars…”
Dick’s smile was bitter and darkly amused, “You didn’t think playing spy was all fun and games, did you? Everyone was out to get me. See here?” Dick half-heartedly lifted up his arm, “A cannibal took a chunk out of it. Congratulations, you’re the first to notice.”
“I’m sorry,” Jason murmured to him, long after he’d fallen asleep.
The two words were long overdue.