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“Dick?”
He shouldn’t be using civilian names. It’s one of the first rules Bruce hammered into him before he was allowed out into the field.
He knows this, but it just slips out.
Dick is a deadweight against him and, with shaking hands, Jason seeks to shove him off just so he can get a better idea of how badly he’s been injured.
Dick moans. His breathing is ragged, but he’s conscious. “I’m… okay,” he tries, struggling and failing to stand on his own power, but it’s less than convincing.
“No, you’re not. Don’t… don’t fucking pull that, asshole.” Jason wraps an arm around Dick’s waist as he slides to the ground, supporting them both.
The man who fired the gun is on the ground beneath them in a steadily growing pool of blood. Jason doesn’t need to check his pulse to know he won’t be getting up anytime soon.
Maybe not ever.
Jason doesn’t know if he killed him. He doesn’t particularly care although maybe he should. Dick is more important.
He lays his brother out flat on the ground.
There’s an exit wound just beneath his shoulder, which means the bullet is no longer inside of him and Jason won’t be faced with the unpleasant task of digging a projectile out from his brother’s flesh.
Thank God for small mercies, he thinks grimly, but that still leaves him with a major issue on his hands.
He’s still bleeding.
“Hood. Talk to me.” Oracle’s voice is in his ear. She’s been trying to get a response for some time, growing steadily more alarmed as each attempt was met with silence, but he’s… he didn’t have the mental capacity to answer her before now. “What happened?”
“Nightwing’s been shot,” he manages, voice tight. Blood is still leaking steadily from the wound.
He’s going to have to find a way to stop it.
There’s a heavy pause in which she sucks in a breath, but she collects herself quickly.
“Okay.” To her credit, when she speaks again, her voice never wavers. He can hear her fingers flying on the keyboard, even through his earpiece. “Okay. Red Robin and Batgirl can be there in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes.
He can make that work.
But first he has to stop this bleeding.
He presses his hands down on the wound, wincing when Dick moans. His face has gone white, completely bloodless.
The thing is, Jason has been shot before. He knows this pain all too well- it’s not pleasant and it’s not one he relishes seeing his brother go through. “Damn you,” he curses. “You just had to go and get in the way, didn’t you?”
Dick cracks an eye open, managing a smile that reveals bloodied teeth. “Worth it.”
Something near hysterical bubbles up in Jason’s chest. “No. No, it’s not. What were you thinking?” At least it didn’t hit anything vital on the way in, but getting shot is never a pretty affair. He’s got a long recovery ahead of him.
Dick’s pained eyes meet his own. “Jay,” he says seriously and now he’s the one breaking the no names on the field rule. His hand fumbles for Jason’s sleeve. He latches on and doesn’t let go. “I couldn’t…” His breath hitches. There’s a sheen of sweat across his face. Jason never wants to see his brother in pain like this again. “...couldn’t let you get hurt.”
Not again.
It’s unspoken, but Jason knows that’s what Dick means and a knot lodges itself in his throat. He forces it back down. “I can take care of myself, dickhead.”
“Not taking that chance.” He smiles weakly. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Jason snaps. How much blood has he lost? Not enough to be fatal, but it still isn’t good.
How much further out are Red Robin and Batgirl?
“Hood?” Only someone who knows her well would recognize the slight tremor in her voice. “Is he okay?”
Of course, he thinks. Of course it makes sense that she would be shaken over this.
Babs had been shot and now Dick has been too and they… Well, they’re pretty close. He can’t imagine what must be going through her head right now, but she holds herself together remarkably well.
“Well, his personality is still intact,” Jason says. “I think he’s going to be fine.”
Dick glares at him. “Jerk.”
“Is that really how you talk to the man saving your life?”
Dick narrows his eyes at him. “Saved yours first.”
Well… he’s got him there. Jason puckers his lips. “I’m gonna help you sit up now,” he says in lieu of anything else. “It’s probably going to suck.”
It does suck.
Dick’s pained gasp doesn’t escape Jason’s notice, but there’s nothing he can do for the pain. He needs to stop the bleeding. He unsheathes the knife he keeps holstered at his thigh and cuts the uniform away from the bullet hole.
He’s patched himself up enough times to be well-versed in field care. He might not have Bruce’s utility belt, but he carries enough on him to do what he needs to do. Dick hisses, flinching only slightly when Jason bandages his side, but he holds still until it’s done.
It’s far from perfect, but it will last until they can get him back to the cave for proper treatment, which is all they need.
Dick is leaning with his back against the wall. From the look on his face, it’s clear he’s trying to breathe through the pain. When he opens his eyes again, they slide towards Jason. “Jay…” he begins. He stops himself and his gaze flickers towards the body on the cement and something twists inside of Jason.
He’d thought all the thugs were taken care of. This one had surprised him. And if Dick- he swallows down the bile that rises in his throat- if Dick hadn’t seen him in time, he might be dead right now.
Now that he’s convinced Dick is in no immediate danger of bleeding out, he goes to check the body. With none of Dick’s grace, he descends from the catwalk and approaches the still form.
When he gets closer, there’s no mistaking that the man is dead and that it wasn’t Jason’s shot that killed him.
His body is twisted unnaturally. It was the fall that did him in. The bullet hit him in the shoulder, but not before his own shot had hit Dick.
Jason’s stomach churns.
He didn’t intend for him to die, but he certainly hadn’t tried terribly hard to prevent it. If he’s being honest, he isn’t even terribly bothered by this death.
Better him than Dick or even himself.
That doesn’t mean he can't be relieved he’s not the cause of death.
The men here were scum. They deserve death, but Jason isn’t going to be the one to deliver it anymore. He still carries his guns, but he made a promise.
“Jason.” When he glances up, he sees that Dick has dragged himself to the edge of the catwalk and is looking down at him. His expression is pinched and his face is far too white for Jason’s liking.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “You shouldn’t be standing.”
But Dick ignores him. “Is he…?”
Jason swallows. “He’s dead. I didn’t kill him.” It’s suddenly incredibly important that Dick understand this. “The fall did.”
The look on Dick’s face is grim. “Bruce will understand.”
Will he?
Jason climbs the steps back to the catwalk and returns to his side and tries to pretend that what Bruce thinks doesn’t matter. “I already told you you shouldn’t be standing.” He carefully ignores the comment about Bruce and helps him lower himself to the ground.
“I was worried about you,” Dick says meaningfully. His eyelids flutter when he leans his head back and Jason’s heart leaps to his throat.
“Don’t even think about falling asleep.” He grips his arm, too scared to shake him.
“I’m awake.” Dick opens his eyes just to frown at him.
“Well, keep it that way.” Jason settles back on his haunches and regards Dick critically. He’s out of immediate danger, but he’s still going to need treatment. He sighs, letting the tension that’s built up finally leave. Tim and Cass are on their way now.
Everything’s going to be fine.