Chapter Text
"I want to hire you to kill Deathstroke."
Jason wasn't sure how Dick had managed to find him, but in the end he thought he shouldn't be too surprised. He made a face behind his mask that Dick couldn't see.
"The golden boy wants someone to die," even with the voice modulator the sarcasm seeped through. "Well Dick, why him? Why me?"
"He tried to kill my brother." Dick said.
Jason scoffed. "Tried?" Robins were dropping like flies, apparently.
"I stopped him."
"But you didn't kill him?" Jason teased.
"Couldn't." Dick grit through his teeth. "Was a little busy bleeding."
"I see." Jason observed him for a moment. Dick did look terrible. He leaned against the wall with a hand pressed to his side. Looked like a strong wind would tip him over. "Why me?"
"You're the Red Hood, right?" Dick said. "After Deathstroke, you're the best hitman in town. I don't know what your deal is-" Jason frowned. "-and I don't particularly like you. But I need a man to die."
Jason stilled. He didn't know. Dick didn't know. Of course Bruce never told him. Jason crossed his arms to avoid the reaction to hit something. Dick had no idea who he was, besides a random crime lord.
"I'll pay." Dick added after the silence stretched on.
"Tried to kill your brother, huh?" Jason asked. He tried to imagine Dick hating someone enough to want them dead. "That makes someone worthy of death? By trying? What if someone succeeded?"
Dick gripped the wall harder, and Jason couldn't tell if it was from anger or pain.
"Look," Dick snapped. "Someone did, okay? I have three younger brothers. The first one was killed by an awful man. The second one was nearly killed-" oh, so Bruce told him about that little incident. "-and now, yet again, another one is nearly killed! I need to stop it."
"Took you nearly losing three brothers to do anything about it huh?"
"I've tried." Dick grumbled. "I did something the first time, I killed the man who killed my brother."
Jason startled, his arms slipping to his sides. "You, what?"
"It didn't stick." Dick grumbled. "But I need this one to, okay? This man has been in my life enough. He kidnapped me-" what the fuck "-he tried to kill Damian, I-" Dick cleared his throat. "I need him dead. And I can't do it right now. Please. I can't lose another brother."
I can't lose another brother.
Jason felt the urge to tell him. To take off the helmet, to reveal it all. To yell, to scream, to ask so many questions about Dick supposedly killing the Joker. But in the end he couldn't bring himself to. He watched Dick sag against the wall, watched the dark look Dick shot his way, and all he could think was how sad it was. He knew what anger felt like. What fear felt like. He saw it in Dick. He also knew that for Dick, this wouldn't last. If Bruce couldn't bring himself to seek revenge for a lost child, Dick certainly wouldn't.
The silence stretched on and even in the dark Jason could see Dick's concentration fading.
"No." Jason said.
"Name your price-"
"I said no!" Jason snapped. He took a step forward then sighed, raising his hand to his face in an aborted gesture before motioning at Dick. "You look like you're about to fall over," Jason said. "Go home. Get better. Think this over. And when you realize this isn't what you want? Well. Don't call me."
"This is what I want." Dick insisted.
"Then do it your own damn self."
Jason turned his back on Dick and stalked off. Let that loser drag himself home. Jason had better things to do.
----
Bruce rubbed a hand over his face as the elevator doors shut on Damian's pouting face.
"Dick is fine," Bruce repeated to himself as the elevator took him down. Lying to his sons exhausted him and Damian was particularly stubborn.
The doors opened with a ding, letting out into the Batcave. Bruce strode past the empty medical bay without sparing it a glance. Dick wasn't there. Wasn't resting, like he'd told Damian. But if Damian found out that Dick had left the manor in his condition Bruce would have a nightmare to deal with on top of everything else. Hopefully Alfred would keep him distracted long enough for Bruce to find Dick and put his ass back in bed.
Tim was pouring over a computer and didn't even look up when Bruce put a hand on his chair and leaned over. The screens we full. Many showing scene from cameras Bruce knew were near Dicks frequent locations, but none of them seemed to showing Dick himself.
"Anything?" Bruce asked.
It was Barbara's voice that answered from the speaker. "Not yet." She sounded tired. Bruce didn't bother checking whatever goddamn time of night it was. "Tim is looking for Dick-"
"I'll find him." Tim muttered.
"-and I'm still looking for any information of Deathstroke. I'm worried-"
"Deathstroke didn't take him." Bruce said. The cameras had told them that much. The idiot child had limped out of here of his own free will.
"I'm worried," Barbara repeated. "That we're not the only ones looking for him."
"Who else?" Bruce asked.
"League of Shadows."
Bruce winced. Not surprising, but not what he wanted to hear.
"Deathstroke tried to kill Damian." Barbara pointed out.
"There's no way Talia doesn't already know." Bruce grumbled. He hated the idea of her having eyes inside his city. Even if it was to keep tabs on her son.
"Let them have him," Tim finally looked up. His eyes burned with unshed tears and anger. "That son of a bitch has done enough."
"Language." Bruce hissed. Tim just glared, and Bruce forced himself to take a breath. He reminded himself that the kid was, well, a kid. A kid whose brother was grievously injured and missing. "Sorry," Bruce added. "You aren't wrong."
"I'm worried," Barbara repeated, "That Dick will get caught in the crosshairs between the League and Deathstroke."
Bruce startled. "Dick is going after Deathstroke." It wasn't a question. It was so obvious.
Tim laughed. "Of course." Pulling the chair away from Bruce, he hunched over his keyboard again, flicking screens and typing code Bruce only half understood.
Bruce stepped back. No. Dick wasn't fine. He'd been fucking shot and now was apparently running amok in the city. Apparently getting himself caught in the crossfire between Deathstroke and the League of Shadows. Bruce was itching to get out there, to do his own work. Maybe he should suit up-
His phone rang. No. Batmans phone rang.
Tim paused to glance at it, then at Bruce.
"Well?" Tim demanded when Bruce hesitated. "Answer it!"
Bruce didn't want the call to be related to Dick's being missing, but he also wasn't willing to divert his focus right now. He picked up the phone anyway. Tim returned to his work when Bruce answered, but he knew the kid was listening.
"I could use your expertise here," Jim Gordon said without preamble. "Got a scene that I think you might have special knowledge of.
----
As it turned out, it was three in bloody morning. Dick had been missing for nearly twelve hours.
Spotlights lit up the scene, illuminating the gory details. The SUV was crunched to hell and looked like it had recently been on fire. The corpses the EMT's were covering looked charred. The only survivor was being hustled into an ambulance for immediate medical care.
Bruce felt sick looking at it. He lingered in the shadows, but Gordon found him anyway.
"You wanna tell me why your boy smashed a car with a garbage truck and left these guys to burn?"
Bruce sucked in a breath. "Which one?"
Jason, likely. But if Dick . . .
"Which one?" Gordon looked somewhere between frightened and offended. "How many of your dogs are off their leash?"
Bruce glared solidly, but Gordon didn't look phased. He just waved his hand as if to clear the air.
"It was Nightwing."
Dick.
"Is he here?" Bruce demanded.
"Nope." Gordon shook his head. "Fled long before we got here. Just got the camera detail. This isn't like your boy, Batman." Gordon pressed. "What's happening?"
"Who were they?" Bruce asked, ignoring the question.
Gordon fiddled with wallets in his hand. "Dunno yet." He said. "Got some IDs, trying to figure that out-"
"Let me see."
Gordon sighed, but handed them over and waited semi-patiently while Bruce read the information aloud.
"On it." Barbaras voice crackled from Bruces comm. The police weren't willing or able to crack the internet in the way Barbara could.
Bruce passed the IDs back dismissively.
"He's looking for Deathstroke." Bruce admitted.
Gordon sucked in a breath. "In Gothem?"
"If you hear anything about him, and I mean anything," Bruce said. "I need you to let me know immediately. And then stay the hell away from him."
"The cops can handle Deathstroke," Gordon said with a frown. "If you let us-"
"There are a lot of angry people after him right now." Bruce gestured at the scene in front of them. The scene Dick had caused. "They're not in a respect the cops kinda mood. They'll kill anyone who gets in their way."
Gordon grunted. "Your boys killers, Batman?"
Bruce grit his teeth. "Not yet." Spinning around, he stalked off into the dark. Not most of them, anyway. Not Dick. Not if he could help it.
----
Bruce found the door to the warehouse already swung open and heard whimpering inside. The address Barbara had directed them to was a frequent location of one of Dicks earlier victims. Barbara thought it was some kind of illegal printing press. ID's, most likely. That implied that Deathstroke was looking for a new ID, and that he might be trying to flee the country. It would be a lot harder to find him - or Dick - if he left..
Bruce gestured for Tim to hang back while he peered through the door. The room inside opened up to a dim office. Red Hood stood in the middle of the room, gun in hand. He was facing the man responsible for the whimpering, fair enough given that the man was pinned to the wall with a piece of rebar jutting out of his body.
Beckoning Tim, Bruce swept into the room.
"R-" Bruce didn't know if he'd been about to call Robin or Red Hood, but either way the name choked in his throat. "Hey."
Red Hood turned around, twirling his gun lazily over a finger.
"You're late."
The voice modulator made it impossible for Bruce to detect even a hint of the child he once knew. Then again, maybe that child wasn't even in there.
Tim lurked behind Bruce and sucked in a breath at the sight. "What did you do?"
Behind Red Hood, Jason, was a mess of blood. The man looked beat to hell, and a fresh bullet wound oozed from his leg. He barely looked conscious as he gripped the rebar.
"I shot him." Red Hood said easily.
Bruce threw him a look.
"Really!" Red Hood holstered the gun he was toying with and held up his hands. "Like I said, you're late. I found him like this."
"You found a man impaled to a wall," Bruce growled. He couldn't believe the nerve of this-
"Your precious golden boy did this."
The words were like a punch to the gut.
"Killing is off the table, but did you ever tell him not to torture people for information?" There was a smirk in Red Hoods crackling voice.
"He wouldn't." Bruce snapped. "You lying-"
"Nah, this was Nightwing."
Both Bruce and Red Hood startled. Neither of them had noticed Tim slip from Bruces side to inspect the man on the wall.
"Please," the man begged. "Help me."
"Major bruising, electrical burns consistent with Nightwings sticks, this reads like Nightwing." Tim ignored the man completely as he poked him over. "Rebar is a little dramatic, but . . ."
"Told yah," Jason shot over his shoulder at Bruce.
"Why would he do this?" Bruce wasn't really asking, the question just came out.
"Hey," Tim slapped the mans face, drawing his focus. "Who are you anyway."
"Nobody," the man whimpered. "Please, let me go. I told that blue freak, I told this red freak, I don't know where Deathstroke is!"
"What else did you tell me?" Red Hood prompted. He didn't move any closer to the man or Tim, but the man cowed anyway.
"S-same that I told the blue one. Nightwing. There's a man downtown, he might know more. . ."
"I got an address right before you showed up." Red Hood sounded smug.
"We'll check it out." Bruce said. "See if we can't get to him before Nightwing does."
"Like hell we will." Red Hood snapped. "I don't need your help. I got the info, I'll find Nightwing."
"Why do you even care?" Bruce tossed back. "Not like you've given a damn about this family recently."
Tim sucked in a breath. Other than that and the mans quiet whining, there was silence.
Red Hoods fingers twitched over his guns and Bruce silently dared him to pull one. He needed an excuse to hit someone.
Instead, Red Hood crossed his arms and turned away.
"He came to me." Red Hood muttered, and Bruce almost missed it. "He asked me to kill Deathstroke and I said no. So. Guess he decided to do it himself." Jasons head twitched towards Bruce. Despite the opaque glass, Bruce got the impression he was being glared at. "You didn't tell him." Jason said accusingly.
The words took a moment to process. You didn't tell him . . .
Oh.
"I didn't think he'd go looking for you." Bruce hissed.
"You didn't. Tell him."
"Tell him what? That my dead sidekick is alive and a crazed kill-"
"Okay now!"
Suddenly Tim was between them, a hand on Bruces chest pushing him away from Red Hood. Bruce was furious. As if he was the one that needed to be held back.
"No, none of us told Nightwing, Hood, I'm sorry." Tim kept a hand on Bruce even as he turned to Red Hood. "It's difficult, okay? But we can't fix that until we find him."
"Why do the two of you even care about finding him, huh?" Red Hood snarled. "You can't be bothered to tell him the truth about the world. You-" he gestured at Bruce "-have a new child to ruin, why bother with him? Let him rot like you did me."
"I did not-"
"Because!" Tim spoke loudly over Bruces shouts. "We're family! Okay? We find our own, when we can."
"Shitty family." Red Hood muttered, turning away. "I'm going. You're not. I'll find him."
Bruce was ready to argue, but Tim was pulling on his cape.
"Red Hood and I will check the address." Tim said. "You get this guy to a hospital." He pointed at the man who had gone limp on the wall. Bruce wondered if he was even still alive and felt a pang of guilt for not checking on him sooner.
"Tim," Bruce didn't understand why Tim was attempting to defend Jason. It hadn't even been a year since Red Hood had tried to kill the current Robin. Bruce was still upset, Tim certainly had a right to be. "You don't have to go with him." Bruce said softly. Not soft enough, given the scoffing from Red Hood. "I can-"
"You can't." Tim said flatly. "You shouldn't. I can. It's fine." He glanced at Red Hood, who hadn't moved or objected to his new partner. "We'll be fine."
----
Jason shook Tim off as soon as he pulled the bike up in front of the address the man had coughed up. The address that was, allegedly, where Deathstroke met with the man who had actually sold him the fake ID's. It looked innocuous enough. Until you took into account the shattered windows and busted in door of course, but Jason had seen worse.
"Thanks for the ride." Tim muttered, pulling off the borrowed helmet and handing it back to Jason. Jason didn't respond, just tossed it on the bike and strode towards the building.
The inside was just as messy as in the outside, possibly worse. The hallway was littered with bodies. Whoever had been working here was long since dead and their killers hadn't spared any furniture or walls in the killing.
"Even I'm not this messy." Jason muttered, trying to find a place to step that wasn't steeped in blood.
"Dick didn't do this." Tim said.
"What do you see?" Bruces voice came over the comms.
"Shut up." Jason growled. "You focus on your job, and we'll focus on ours."
"You never told me why you cared." Bruce clipped back.
"You never stopped being an ass."
"Alright," Barbara cut in. "Cut it out or get a new channel. Tell me. What is happening?"
"Buncha bodies," Tim responded. "Dick didn't do this."
"How do you know?" Bruce asked, desperation in his voice.
"Afraid your favorite child is going to fall from the pedestal you put him on?" Jason commented.
"Remember earlier when Barbara mentioned the League of Shadows might be after Deathstroke too?" Tim said, ignoring the argument.
Jason stiffed. "What? Why?"
"On account of him trying to kill their heir, and all." Tim muttered. "Long slices, blades. Lotsa blood. I don't even know if Dick could do this with a wound like he has."
Jason strode past him, abandoning his hope not to get his shoes bloody, and marched down the hallway. The door at the end was broken in, a sure sign it was the one they were looking for.
Jason pushed past it and . . .
"Jesus Christ."
Two more lay dead in the floor, and another sprawled on the desk. His body, Jason could only assume it had been a him, was sliced to hell. There was hardly a part of his body that wasn't oozing blood.
"What is it?" Bruce demanded.
Jason ignored him, wondering if the man Bruce was supposed to be taking care of was getting any care at all.
"If this is the shit Damians gonna pull one day," Tim said, walking up beside Jason. "Someone tell him to clean up. I thought assassins would be . . . sneakier than this?" Tim ignored the bodies and started pulling open cupboards in drawers in the office.
"It's less about sneak and more about flair." Jason commented.
"Is anyone going to update us?" Barbara asked.
"More bodies." Tim said. "No Dick. And, ah ha. Cameras."
"It's fresh," Jason added, toeing a body. A few hours at most. Jason was willing to bet sooner.
"Got something," Tim said from where he was clacking away. Jason abandoned the body moved to join him, reluctantly glad he'd brought the new Robin along. Computers weren't his thing.
The replay kicked on. "There." Tim said. "Two hours ago."
Dick.
He looked . . .
"Is he okay?" Bruce demanded over the comms.
"He looks like shit." Jason said.
Dick was in his Nightwing suit, but the front of it was already stained red. He stumbled into the building, a hand clutched his side as he took out the henchmen on his way it. Sticks. Fists. No swords. Dick knocked the men down but wasn't slicing them up. Tim was right. Someone else had dealt this damage.
Jason winced when Dick jumped and kicked a guy into a wall. With his gaping gunshot wound, that had to have hurt Dick more than the man. But still. Dick persisted. The camera showed Dick catching himself on the wall and pushing forward. He busted in the door and interrogated a man that Jason suspected was now dead on the desk. But Dick left without killing him.
"Here," Tim pulled the footage forwards. Dick was gone. The men in the hallway started to stir. Then, one after another, the cameras went dark. The last one, the room they were in, a shadow moved in the doorway, something hurtled towards the camera, then it too shorted out.
Even without the footage, Jason could guess what happened next.
"We just missed him." Jason muttered.
"Two hours isn't just missed."
"Fuck." Jason watched the scene play out again. Dick stumbling out and heading gods knows where, having gained god knows what information. "Fuck!" Jason yelled, snatching a paperweight off the desk and throwing it at the wall. "We got nowhere!"
"Not completely," Barbara said. "Tim, patch me in to their cameras."
"On it." Tim fiddled with the computer towers. Jason just wanted to break more stuff. He never should have left Dick. Should have hauled him over his shoulder and dropped his ass off at home. Or maybe a hospital.
Jason heard Bruce cuss through the comm.
"Told you he looks like shit." Jason said. His eyes flicked to the screen, which Barbara must be showing to Bruce by now. Jason had seen Dick earlier, he'd looked bad, but it was dark. How was he supposed to know how bad Dicks injuries were?
"Where is he?" Bruce growled through the comms. Jason honestly couldn't tell if it was more Bruce or Batman in that tone, all he knew was that the man sounded pissed. No, not pissed. Scared. Jason wondered if Bruce had felt half that fear when Jason died.
"I'm tracking him." Barbara said. "Regroup, gimme an hour, I'll find him."
Silence echoed from the comms and Jason had to assume Barbara had logged off to focus, and Bruce was probably punching shit.
Tim was on the floor, doing some detective shit. Jason didn't care. The detective bit was never his thing.
"He's awful worried about the golden child." Jason said casually, like his stomach wasn't doing a turn watching Dick on the camera. "Don't think the old mans ever been this worried about anyone before."
He felt Tims eyes on him, but refused to turn.
"I've seen him. . . like this, before." Tim said. "Four years ago, Bruce was . . . he was losing it."
Jason scoffed. "What made the old man go crazy?"
"Four years ago? His son died."
Jason snapped his head towards Tim, but the kid wasn't looking at him anymore. Wasn't even focused on his detective shit. Just trailing patterns in the blood on the floor with a finger.
"And Dick was, well, he was dealing with his own stuff. Anger at Bruce. Guilt for not being there for his brother. Grief. He wasn't in a place to help Bruce. So I did. I became Robin."
"You became Robin," Jason didn't like how dry his voice sounded. "To help Bruce? Are you insane?"
"Batman needs Robin," Tim said simply, pushing himself to his feet. "The second Robin understood that. I was just doing what needed to be done. I couldn't bring back the old one, and I could hardly fill his shoes," Tims gaze skittered to Jason for a moment before darting away again. "But I did what I could."
Jason felt the wood of the desk creak as he gripped it. He want to hit something. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run away and wash his hands clean of these people.
"So don't think Dick is special," Tim said. "Bruce grieved for you too." The statement was like a slap in the face. Then, as if to add insult to the injury, Tim slid his mask off his face and turned to him with a smile that didn't look entirely forced.
"I forgive you, you trying to kill me." Tim said. "I can't say the nightmares will go away, but, for our family, I think we need to set it aside."
"You're not my family." Jason hated his voice for betraying him, even through the helmet. Tim didn't look convinced, but he shrugged.
"Lets start with acquaintances then, huh?" He stuck out a hand. "Hi, I'm Tim Drake, the current Robin. Nice to meet you."
Jason stared at Tim so long he watched the kids smile waver into something like concern. Before he could fully process his actions, Jason had his helmet tucked under his arm and his hand in Tims. Tim looked just as surprised as he felt.
"Jason." Jason grumbled. "Not dead."
Tim released his hand and the smile on his face looked more genuine, as did the relief as he took a step back.,
"Pleasure. Well, they might not be your family, yet, but they are mine. Help me save them?"
Jason huffed, settling his helmet back on his head.
"Dick never could keep himself out of trouble."
----
The roof Bruce met with his boys on was shrouded in shadow, the perfect recon sight for some bats. Bruce shook his, glancing at Red Hood. He needed to stop thinking of Red Hood as Jason. Just because he was helping them find Dick didn't mean he was apart of the family again. Didn't mean he even wanted that.
Tim nodded to the building adjacent to them. "That's the address Barbara gave us," he said. "It's been quiet so far."
Bruce sized up the building. He opened his mouth to speak when a new voice came over the comm.
"Father."
Bruce stiffened. "Damian?"
"Would you like to explain to me why Grayson is not in his infirmary bed?"
"Damian," Bruce brought a hand to his face.
"I do not care if you would like to," Damian continued. "Grayson is missing and you are looking for him. I am joining you."
"You are not!" Bruce said. "Wherever you are-"
"I'll be there momentarily."
"Damian!"
Jason groaned and muttered something that sounded like "demon brat" as a shadow alighted on the roof beside them.
It was . . . Damian.
"What are you wearing?" Tim asked.
"My Robin costume." Damian said simply. It looked like it. Though none of the Robins had ever carried a sword like that before . . . "I will help you recover Grayson."
"His Robin-?" Tim glanced at Bruce, then at Damian. "How did you even find us?"
"Barbara told me." Damian said.
Suspicious silence echoed from the comms.
Jason crossed his arms. Bruce sighed.
"We will discuss this later," Bruce said.
"Yes we will." Damian agreed.
"But for now, you will stay on this roof while we-"
"No." Damian said. "I will handle the Leauge of Shadows who, as we speak, are approaching the area. You will recover Grayson."
"No-"
"Father," Damian clenched his fists, then let out a huffed breath and released them. "Grayson nearly died to save me. I can handle the League. I will help you."
Bruce hesitated. As ferocious as his son was, despite his upbringing, he was still just a kid.
"He can handle the League." Jason confirmed. Bruce jerked his head towards Jason, surprised. "Let him. They'll just be trouble if we're trying to battle Deathstroke on one side and the League on the other."
They were all just . . . kids. But Dick was out there bleeding somewhere, Jason tapped his fingers on his guns, Tim was poised and ready to go, and Damian looked determined to fight. . .
Bruce didn't have time for guilt or second guessing. He'd periodically been reminded how young his boys were, but . . . Reluctantly, Bruce gave a terse nod.
"We will talk about this later." He warned.
Satisfied, Damian joined them at the roofs edge, peering over.
"Are you sure this is the right building?" Damian asked.
An explosion lit up the interior, and screams rang out.
"Pretty sure." Jason muttered.
"Move." Bruce said. "Robin, Red Hood, with me. Damian . . ."
"On it."
They leapt to the street and the three of them darted into the building. Bruce glanced over his shoulder to see Damian, clad in the Robin costume, settling in front of the door, sword drawn, waiting.
"Leave him," Jason muttered. "You've done it before."
Bruce turned to snap at him, but Jason was already down the hallway after Tim. Bodies littered the hallway. Most of them groaning, all of them bleeding. Neither Tim nor Jason hesitated stepping over them, and Bruce followed. The door at the end of the hallway was swung open.
"-glad it's you to take the shot, Grayson." Deathstroke. "Though I'd recommend aiming a little to your left, you're drifting."
Bruce pushed his way into the room. Deathstrokes eye flicked past Dick to him.
"Ah," Deathstroke inclined his head. "The party poopers have arrived."
"Shut your stupid face." Jason snapped. He and Tim hovered by the door, but Bruce stepped forward.
"Nightwing," He said carefully. Dick stood lilting in the middle of the room, a gun pointed at Deathstroke. He had a hand wrapped around his waist, blood oozing between his fingers. He looked unfocused, but his gaze was focused stubbornly on Deathstroke.
Ignoring Deathstroke, Bruce stepped closer to Dick, putting out his hands, but not touching him.
"Nightwing, put down the gun." Bruce said.
"No," Dick rasped. "I'm not losing another brother."
"I'm not losing another son," Bruce insisted. "Put down the gun. Let us take you home."
"I can't let him live anymore. Not after everything he's done."
"He didn't kill Dami-"
"THAT'S NOT ALL HE'S DONE." Dick shouted.
In the silence that followed, Dicks heaving breaths, a question swirling in Bruce's mind. Now wasn't the time to ask it though.
"I should have killed him years ago." Dick said. "I didn't-" Dicks legs finally gave out and he collapsed. Bruce quickly knelt beside him, catching him before he could fall completely to the ground. Jason was at their side in an instant, but Dick raised the gun again, pointing it unsteadily at Deathstroke.
"That's not what we do," Bruce said. "We save lives. You save lives."
"Not all of them." Dick whispered.
"You're injured, Dick," Bruce said softly. "Let us help you."
Bruce reached out slowly for the gun, but Dick shook his head.
"No."
His grip spasmed more than an intentional pulling of the trigger. The gun clicked. It didn't fire. Jammed or empty, it didn't fire. Deathstroke stood looking unimpressed.
Dicks head lolled towards Bruce, giving him the most pitiful look Bruce had ever seen. Dick looked so hurt, so disappointed. So desperate.
"Let's get him out of here," Jason said, swooping down beside them and scooping Dick up easily in his arms and taking him from Dick. Tim was there, pulling the gun out of Dicks limp grip and guiding Jason out.
"Well, this has been a beautiful reunion." Deathstroke commented. Bruce turned his attention towards the man to see him near an open window, one leg swung out. "But I've really got to get going. My apologies for trying to kill the kid." He shrugged. "Gotta do what you gotta do, you know?"
Bruce clenched his fists. Deathstroke smiled, as if reading his mind.
"You can chase me," Deathstroke offered. "But you'll be abandoning Dick. Again. I wouldn't recommend that."
Again.
"What did you do to him?" Bruce asked.
Deathstroke chuckled. "Not my place to tell you," he said. "Ask the kid yourself."
He was gone. Bruce hesitated a moment longer, then swept after his boys.
The Batmobile was parked out front. Damian stood beside it, watching anxiously as Tim helped Jason slide into the back seat with Dick.
"I've got a ride." Damian said as Bruce approached. He nodded towards the shadows, where Bruce could barely see a reflection in the darkness. The League was holding back. Fucking Talia.
Bruce just nodded and slid into the drivers seat as Tim buckled in beside him. Bruce hit the gas, ignoring any and all driving laws or safety rules.
"Oracle," Bruce snapped. "Tell Alfred-"
"Way ahead of you." Barbaras voice sounded further away. "I'm on my way too. Meet you at the cave."
Bruce glanced in the mirror at Jason in the back with Dick. Jason had removed his helmet and he looked . . . soft. Softer than Bruce had ever seen him. One hand was pressing on Dicks wounds, a desperate attempt to keep any more blood from flowing, while the other carded through Dicks hair with a gentleness Bruce never would have suspected.
"Jason," Dick whispered. His eyes were unfocused, and Bruce wondered how much he was actually processing. "I'm sorry."
"You should be, dumbass." Jason muttered. "Making us come save you. It's-"
"No," Dick interrupted. "I'm sorry I didn't save you."
Jason froze, emotions crossing his face that Bruce couldn't decipher in the mirror.
"I should have been there." Dick muttered. "I wasn't. You died. I'm sorry."
"Yeah, well," Jason said gruffly. "Worry about yourself dying, okay?"
"If it means I get to see you again," Dick said with a smile. "Then dying will have been worth it."
Bruce returned his gaze to the road and pressed harder on the gas, willing the car to move faster.