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Now, 4:56 am, Sunday
Jason's hand shook, finger on the trigger but unwilling to pull.
Red Hood never hesitated with a shot. His hand never shook, his finger was never slow, his bullet never missed his mark. Red Hood, however, was not Red Hood right now. Sure, he wore the helmet, had the voice and stance, used his guns and violence and power. But right here, right now, standing in front of the broken form of Nightwing, Dick, he was unequivocally Jason Todd, Little Wing, Dick's brother.
Jason's hand shook, finger on the trigger of one of his best guns, but unwilling to pull and shoot the blue bird on his brother's chest. Too much blood stained Nightwing's suit as it was. Jason refused to add to it.
But he didn't have a choice.
"Do it," the man in the corner hissed, expression flickering between impatient frown and sadistic grin. "Shoot him. Kill him."
"Don't," Robin threatened from behind Red Hood to his left, fear in his voice. Jason could vaguely hear some fabric shifting and murmured words, probably Red Robin holding Damian back.
If Red Hood didn't shoot, then the youngest Robins were dead. If he shot, then…
Nightwing shifted, head lifting weakly to look at Jason with one swollen eye beneath the cracked mask and the other squinted open. The rest of his body was still slumped on the chair, arms pulled behind him and bound, his feet tied to the chair legs below. He looked more defeated than Jason had ever seen him. A lot could happen in thirty-four hours…
"Shoot," Nightwing's captor urged, growing angrier the more time that Jason took.
Jason's eyes darted between Dick, the man, Tim and Damian behind him, the door beyond which he knew Batman was taking care of the other goons before going back to Nightwing.
His brother was still looking at him, expression a mix of determination and resignation. It made Jason mad. Even now, Dick was trying to protect him, protect them from seeing his weakness, the pain that must be overwhelming him. The slightest movement of Nightwing's chin, an almost imperceptible nod as he met Red Hood's eyes. A suppressed wince as the vigilante straightened, the former Robin closing his eyes and letting out a last breath.
Jason's hand shook.
He pulled the trigger.
34 hours ago, 7:13 pm, Friday
"Hey Robin, what's up?"
Damian raised an eyebrow. "You are already on patrol, Nightwing?"
"Yeah, thought I'd go out early before heading over to Gotham. Looks quiet enough, so I can afford the extra time."
The small sigh of relief slipped past Damian's lips. "So you do still intend to come over tonight?"
"… yeah, of course. Were you worried I wouldn't?" Dick's voice over the phone is teasing, but with an undercurrent of worried curiosity.
"Tt, no. I have full faith in you. It was Dra- Red Robin who theorised otherwise. He said you have been busy."
The soft laugh sounded slightly staticky over the line, but it still made Damian oddly warm. "I'm always busy, Baby Bird. I promised you I'd be over for the weekend, so I will try everything I can to be there."
"Your city takes priority over me, Nightwing. If you have work then you must- "
"Dami," Grayson interrupted, voice endearing but firm. "I want to come home tonight and spend the weekend with you, and Bruce, and Alfred, and whoever else is at the Manor right now. Red Robin is right, I have been pretty busy, but it's settled enough that I can come over without worrying about Bludhaven being burned down tomorrow. Trust me."
"I do." No hesitation, just truth. "I trust you."
"Good. Now, do you want anything from here? It's early enough that most of the shops are still open…"
"My sketchbook is getting quite full, but I wanted to switch to another brand anyway and must gauge the quality myself in store."
"I'll take you the one in downtown Gotham tomorrow then?"
"I would like that."
"Okay, perfect. Hey, where's B? Is he out with you?"
Damian glanced up towards the Batcomputer, where Batman was frowning as he went through some files. "We have not yet left the Cave," Damian admitted.
"Oh, okay… everything good over there?"
"I do not know… Father mentioned something about Arkham. An anonymous tip or suspicious activity or something of the sort. We have been delayed as a result and Father refuses to provide further information on the incident."
"Hmm, I'm sure he just doesn't think it's a big enough deal to… to tell you…" Nightwing's voice trailed off, and Damian's eyes narrowed.
"Is everything alright?"
"Huh? Oh, right. Um. Yeah, just saw something I might have to deal with. I'll see you later, Robin. Oh and could you let B know I'll be bringing the car, not the bike- hey!"
The sudden shout startled Robin. "Nightwing?"
"Stupid shoplift- why is he so fast," Nightwing muttered, vague sound of running in the background before his voice was louder to address Damian. "See you in a bit, bye."
"Goodb- "
The line cut off suddenly, and Damian stood there for a few moments with the phone still in hand. Then he blinked, cleared his throat, and turned back to Batman.
29 hours ago, 11:44 pm, Friday
Tim's eyes narrowed.
"And why did I need to hear about your phone call with D- Nightwing again?"
Robin frowned at Red Robin. "Because he is late! Something must have happened."
"Oh my god," Tim scoffed, rolling his eyes under his domino mask. "Look kid-" he started, but was interrupted.
"I am not a child," Damian seethed.
"Kid," Tim repeated, leaning over his younger brother. "There are a hundred reasons why Nightwing could be late and only a handful of them are anything to be concerned about, let alone something I need to hear about. He could be caught up in a case, he might have gotten stuck in traffic, he could have fallen asleep for all we know. Leave the worrying for when it's been more than one hour!"
Frowning, Robin crossed his arms. "He would have told us about his delay."
"His phone could have died."
"He patrolled early in preparation, I'm sure he would have thought of that."
"Okay, maybe someone stole it, then. Or he's busy, or a whole bunch of other things including maybe he just ditched us. Maybe he just decided he didn't want to spend the weekend with his dopey little brothers and live his adult life instead, ever thought of that?"
"Nightwing would not do that."
"Maybe, maybe not. My point is, things happen. People forget plans, or get caught up in other things." Damian opened his mouth but Tim just spoke louder. "I don't care if he 'promised you' or whatever. Get used to the fact that no one, including him, is perfect. In our line of work, we're literally taught to lie well. Something worse could have happened, but this is Nightwing. He can handle himself."
"You're- "
"Calling all Bats. We have a problem. Ivy and Riddler have escaped Arkham."
The switch was instant. Tim and Damian immediately focused, all argument forgotten as they listened to Oracle's report and Batman's following orders. Confirmations relayed into the comms, a shared nod between them, and they were off into the night.
~ 29 hours ago, time unknown, still Friday?
Dick's head hurt. His vision was dark, but the itch on his temple hinted at a blindfold and not head injury. Well, he probably still had a concussion, but the vision loss probably wasn't because of that… maybe. Probably.
Whatever, he had bigger problems to worry about. He seemed to be moving, and he couldn't figure out how. It was smooth, like - ow, something pricked his arm - like a car, but bumpier, as if he wasn't tethered down. But he couldn't cushion himself, his hands… hands… hands were on him. He wasn't in any vehicle, he was being dragged…
The truth hit him like a bucket of cold water. He'd lost some time. He had no idea how much, or why, but he'd been in a car and now there was people grabbing him and he was being dragged, all without him remembering or realising the switch.
He wanted the fingers along his body gone. When he tried to move, to throw the hands off or at least get his feet under him, his body didn't respond.
The situation reminded him of too many times he hadn't been in power, in control of his own body and who could touch it. He was an acrobat. He was a trained fighter. He was someone who loved showing affection through physical touch and yet. He wasn't in control of his body right now, and that made his chest hurt more than anything.
Kidnappings, well, he'd been kidnapped before. He knew how to get out, what to do and say, when to wait and act. All of that depended on his ability to move.
The hands shoved him down, onto a hard surface, a chair. His wrists were wrenched roughly behind him and bound to what he assumed was the back of the chair, the bindings cutting into his skin and his ankles as they bound his legs too. These people weren't amateurs though. Or, if they were, they'd done their research. Whoever was tying him to the chair knew to not put his wrists or ankles together.
Whoever… did he know who they were? How did they get him, how did he get here, why was there such a large gap in his memory..?
Footsteps, authoritative footsteps drew close. The other people around him left, he could feel the faint wind as they passed him and the absence their presence left.
Their boss was still in the room. Dick could sense it.
One step closer. Two.
Nightwing's skin prickled as he felt someone draw near, close enough that he could feel their hot breath on the side of his neck. He tried to stay still, strong, too unsure of the person's location to try and headbutt them or otherwise incapacitate them.
When the person spoke, whispering into Dick's ear, the voice seemed to curl around him, bury its way into his head and send shivers down him spine.
"We're going to have a lot of fun."
20 hours ago, 9:02 am, Saturday
Jason awoke to his phone ringing.
He groaned. His body was still sore from last night, helping the other Bats take down Riddler and Ivy. They'd managed to get Riddler back in his cell, but Ivy had gotten away. All in all, the results of the night were not worth the beatings they'd taken and the trouble they'd gone through.
His hand flopped out of his sheets to grab at his phone, almost dropping it in the process. When he managed to get it, he squinted at the too-bright screen.
Demon Spawn, it read.
He frowned. Ignoring the call was a very desirable option, but Jason also knew that Damian rarely called him as it was, so it must be something important. At the very least, he hoped Damian understood the consequences of a false alarm at this hour. Which was… nine in the morning, probably time to get up anyway to be honest, but he wouldn't tell Damian that. Instead, he picked up and said, "What?"
"Have you heard from Richard?"
"Oh, good morning to you too, Damian. I slept great until I was woken up by a little shit, but otherwise yeah, I'm okay, what about you," Jason mocked, scowling. He imagined Damian had the same disgruntled expression. The thought didn't make him feel better.
"Good morning, Todd. Now, have you heard from Richard?"
"Isn't Dick with you?"
"Did you see him last night among the battle?"
"No…?"
"Exactly. He did not arrive."
Jason shrugged. "Okay, so he fell asleep, or forgot or something, what do you want me to do?"
"He is not answering my phone."
"And you think he'd answer mine," Jason asked, incredulous. "He's probably still passed out. I've seen the dude sleep through a fire alarm before."
"That… is unsafe."
"Our lives are unsafe. Bruce is unsafe."
Silence from the other end of the line. Long enough to make Jason sigh long and suffering.
"You want me to go check on him?"
"That would be appreciated."
"Why?"
Another silence. Jason elaborated. "Why is this special enough for me to get up and drive all the way to Bludhaven? Why don't you believe he just ditched you? He does that you know, he's not perfect. By the time you came along, almost, maybe, but he made plenty of mistakes to get there."
"… Because he promised."
"He breaks promises too, sometimes."
'I'll always be there for you, Little Wing. Just give me a call and I'll come.'
Damian didn't have an answer to that. But, a nagging feeling had started to pester Jason, telling him that Damian wasn't so naïve to believe Dick to a fault, that he had problems putting his feelings into words. That his younger brother was the child of the greatest detective in the world and an equally intelligent and dangerous woman, and maybe, just maybe, Damian having a bad feeling was enough.
Besides, as pessimistic as Jason could try to be when concerning his older brother, he knew Dick. Knew somewhat the promise his older brother had made to himself to be better after Jason's death, had seen the proof of improvement with Tim, and later Damian. Envied it, in his darkest hours. He knew that even if something had come up, Dick would have at least called. Apologised a gross amount of times. So if he hadn't said anything, even if he really had fallen asleep or something as simple, it was something to be looked into. Dick slept deeply, but that was back when Jason was Robin, before… well, before everything changed.
Damian was still quiet, but hadn't cut the call. Jason sighed, again.
"I'll leave in an hour. You're lucky I have a contact I've been meaning to talk to in Blud anyway, but you still owe me."
"I expected nothing less. I shall have Alfred prepare one of your favourite meals for tonight."
Jason smirked. "Nice try, but I decide when I come over to the Manor. Just, let me get Dickface first."
~ 12 hours ago, time unknown, friday? Saturday? Sunday?
The punch hit Nightwing's jaw hard enough to make his whole body jerk. His shoulder strained with the force, and he leaned further to spit out a tooth. At least luck had smiled on him this time. His tongue ran over the empty hole where the tracker disguised as a tooth had been. Hopefully it would be able to activate. Hopefully the electric shocks he'd taken earlier hadn't been in vain. Maybe his family could come and save him from this mess.
He hid his hope with a wince as he straightened in the chair. It was getting harder and harder to do, moving. His torso was probably a mess of bruises, because it felt like it. Nothing was broken, yet, but it only gave him a bad feeling. They were being careful, surgical. They wanted it to last longer, make the torture sustainable. Death wasn't the end goal for them. Pain was.
He lifted his neck, staring through the blindfold to where he imagined his torturer to be, just in time to catch a blow to the side of his head.
10 hours ago, 7:39 pm, Saturday
Dick's apartment had been empty. Oracle had denied any sign of Dick being at work, or any of his usual places. When she had to go and deal with something else, Tim took over checking the surveillance cameras. They showed nothing. No word from Clark, or any other Leaguers or Dick's friends. After an interrogation from Jason, even Bruce's denial of any other secret undercover missions of Dick's was believed.
They didn't even have a specific time of Dick's disappearance. Sometime after his call with Damian and before he was supposed to show up to the Manor.
The Bats waited until nightfall to actually go out and search. They hadn't made it far before Ivy had distracted them, resurfacing to destroy a waste disposal facility by the water. It would have been a problem that could have been handled by only two of them, if it wasn't for the nearby cruise ship full of people in the line of fire, and the shipment of dangerous waste awaiting disposal. Altogether, not a great combination.
"Red Hood, watch out!"
"Holy sh- what was that?"
"The vines have toxins, so don't let them- duck!"
"Oomph. Don't tackle me ever again, it's like being attacked by a really determined raccoon."
"Raccoo- I saved your life!"
"Sure Little Red."
"Focus," Batman growled, swinging past while cutting through the net of vines with a batarang.
"Oracle to Bats, I know you're occupied but I just got a lead on Nightwing's location. His distress signal was activated, just for a moment. I have a location, but I don't know how long they'll stay there."
"Hnn."
~ 7 hours ago, time?, weekend?
A groan slipped past Dick's lips. He felt dizzy, the blows to the head not doing much for the fogginess in his brain. His whole body was a huge ball of pain, one injury indistinguishable from the next. He was cold. His mouth was dry. His hearing, though, that was perfectly fine.
"Little shit had a tracker in his tooth," one of the men beside him growled, followed by a quiet crunch of something.
Dick fought against the instinct to freeze.
"Ooh, Boss is not going to be happy," another voice said.
"The Boss wants Batman to come, though, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, but not like this. He had a whole plan. I'm going to ask him what to do."
"Are you crazy? He's gonna kill us."
"Batman will kill us if he finds us. I'm telling the Boss."
"Fine. You do that. I'm gonna make sure a proper punishment is dealt out in the meantime."
Dick steeled himself, but he still wasn't ready when the first fist made contact with his body.
He lost track of how long it went on. Not as long as before, but not a short period of time either. Dick's head was swimming by the time the other guy came back. His words floated through Nightwing's head.
"Boss wants us gone- "
Some more words were said before he was hauled roughly out of his chair. His legs were as stiff as the wood he'd been sitting on, arms aching as they were tugged about. The blood rushed to his head as he stood, leaving his ears ringing. His knees gave out beneath him, making one of the men holding him swear and dig his fingers into Dick's arm. It would probably leave a bruise, but on top of all the rest, Nightwing doubted it would make a difference.
He let the men shove him… somewhere. It was hard to see. He wasn't sure the blindfold was on his eyes; it was dark either way, and nothing he could make out made any sense by the time it reached his mushy brain. He just wanted to be home.
He tried to thrash against his captors, but they just twisted his wrist until they heard a small crack. A punch to the stomach and he was wheezing for breath. He blinked heavily.
Suddenly he was being sat back down, the chair beneath him this time cold and unforgiving steel. He'd lost more time, without realising he'd passed out - if he even had. He shook his head, trying to clear it. He had the foreboding feeling the thoughts had passed his mind before, but his concussion was interfering with his memory.
Focus up and pay attention, Batman scolded in his mind, picking up the same thing Dick's ears did.
"The Bats found the base…" Quiet whispers from beyond a door. He stilled, and strained to hear.
"What did they do?"
"Blew the place up."
Dick's blood went cold.
"They still alive?"
"Dunno. Boss said no one could have survived but- "
Someone had come for him? Someone had- who? Were they okay? He'd never be able to live with himself if any of his family died trying to reach him.
Dick didn't know where he was, how long he'd been here, who'd taken him from where. All he knew was that his whole body hurt, screaming at him and competing with the blaring alarms in his head that this was wrong, wrong, wrong. He needed to get away, whether someone risked themself to rescue him, or he got himself out.
Before he could make any plans, a new, familiar set of footsteps could be heard. Dick hated the way his body tensed in response. He'd been trained better than that.
The heavy footsteps paused beside where Nightwing assumed the other two men were.
"Is he dead yet?"
"No sir."
"Perfect. More fun to be had."
The footsteps drew nearer. Dick fought against the fear, dread, trying to make him thrash against the bindings holding him to the chair. This man somehow elicited a strong reaction that went against his training so viscerally-
There's something in his veins.
It made a lot of sense. His skin was too cold. A concussion was definitely in the cards, but it should be messing with his head this much. None of the pain should be- he'd been trained better than to let it affect his thinking.
This was all much worse than he'd thought. He needed to escape. Now.
"Wakey-wakey Mr. Nightwing," the man said in a sing-song voice, reaching up to remove the blindfold. Nightwing glared at the sadistically grinning face of his captor.
"Time for some games."
Escape.
Now.
7 hours ago, 10:45 pm, Saturday
Red Hood crouched down to get a better look at the floor of the cell. They'd only been here for five minutes, and it already wasn't looking good. Dealing with Ivy had taken a lot longer than anyone had anticipated, and Robin had been flung into a building and knocked out in the process. Batman had not been happy… but they couldn't just drop everything and forget the first solid lead they'd had on Nightwing's disappearance, so here Jason was with-
"Hey, Red Robin?" He called behind him, running his gloved finger through the small pool of red on the ground. His helmet was already trying to visually analyse it, but he had a dreading feeling he knew whose blood it was splattered on the wooden chair and floor in the middle of the room. His hand curled into a fist. Whether he was currently working with Batman or not, no-kill rule or not, these people were going to pay for taking his brother.
"Red Hood," Tim shouted back, slight hint of panic in his voice. That, paired with the fast, light footsteps coming his way made Jason stand up straight. There was nothing much left here for them. They'd missed their chance, taken too long. Now Dick was stuck with these… psychopaths for even longer. Who knew what they might be doing to him?
Jason stuck his head out into the hallway, but the toes of his boots kicked against small, white granules of something that made him pause.
"Hood!"
Red Hood got out a small vial from his belt, leaning down again to gather- oh fuck no, these guys were dead when Jason found them, because that was his brother's tooth, the one with a tracker, shattered on the ground-
Red Robin suddenly appeared in the hallway, breathing hard. He reached out and grabbed Jason's arm, pulling hard.
"Red Hood, we have to g- "
7 hours ago, 10:49 pm, Saturday
"-ood, Red Robin, come in. I repeat, come in," Oracle's panicked voice crackled through their comms.
The two vigilantes slowly came to, groaning and wincing, until Red Hood seemed to realise-
"What the fuck," Jason gasped, pushing Red Robin's body off his. Tim yelped, his face intimately meeting the ground. As they slowly made their way onto their hands and knees, they both shuffled back, the flames reaching out for them from the warehouse fire mere paces away.
"You're welcome for saving your life," Tim grumbled, followed by a quiet hiss of pain as he tested the extent of his shoulder injury.
"I was a little busy- " Red Hood starts shouting, before the reality hits him and suddenly he can't breathe. Not only was he blown up in a warehouse again, but his brother had been in there mere hours ago, tortured by a psychopath clown-
"-ed Hood, Hood, you with me?"
Tim's looking at him with wide eyes. Jason takes a shaky breath, covering it up by shoving Red Robin's face away from his.
"I'm fine."
Their comms crackled again, this time, a new voice. "Red Hood, Red Robin, come in. Status report."
They shared a look at the concern in Batman's voice.
"We're alive," Red Robin replied for them, frowning.
"Nightwing was definitely here," Red Hood took over. He ignores the look Tim gives him. They'd found devastatingly little at the warehouse, yet whatever Jason had seen in those few minutes they'd split up before Tim had noticed the explosives had set his older brother on edge. "But they knew we were coming."
Oracle's voice chimed in. "I'm checking surveillance and traffic cameras in the area for any recent transport."
"We better hope you find something." The helmet hides Jason's face, hides the fear and murder on his face.
"Take too long and there might not be much of him left," he adds in a whisper.
Only Tim hears him. But everyone feels the sentiment anyway.
4 hours ago, 1:42 am, Sunday
The tension was almost palpable around the Bats as they gathered in front of the Batcomputer nervously. They all watched with bated breath as Batman grabbed the flash drive, the one addressed to him in red ink that was a little too messy to be from a pen.
Gordon was watching through Oracle's network. He had been the one to find and give them the flash drive in the first place, about half an hour ago. His squad had been investigating the blown up warehouse where Jason and Tim had been not so long ago - and yet every minute they didn't know where Dick was felt like a year - and they'd found a small envelope with Batman's name on it nestled against the rubble. As soon as the Batsignal had gone up, Bruce had appeared on the GCPD rooftop wanting answers.
Now, here they all were, called back to the Cave if they weren't already in the medbay to see… something.
Alfred stood back, still but tense.
Batman huffed and put the flash drive in.
At first, nothing happened. Then a screen opened, black and blank until words popped up.
Please hold.
They all watched the spinning wheel of a loading sign. Just as the image was burned into their eyes, the screen changed, as if someone had put their camera on in an online meeting, as simple as that.
The video was blurry and lagging at first, but it was enough to set Tim and Oracle searching for any information they could glean. Damian watched with hate in his eyes, Jason with apprehension, and Batman's eyes remained unwavering and emotionless.
As the camera cleared, they could see a man's face taking up most of the screen. He wore no mask, but that only made it more unsettling. This man had no fear of recognition; wanted it, evidently. That meant there was something else he was hoping they'd focus on, something he wanted them to find. Jason glanced at Tim, furiously typing.
The man's eyes focused on them, seeing through the screen. Jason tried to not let the man's grin visibly send alarms through his head.
"Ah, Batman. I am so excited you could make it. My apologies for the delay in answering, we were having a bit of trouble with today's star talent, I'm sure you understand."
Batman's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. Robin's hands clenched.
"I must admit, I am a huge fan of yours," the man squealed, as if he was a teenage fangirl instead of a sadistic psycopath. "I have been trying to get your attention for so long now. I'm only sorry I didn't realise much sooner that I had to go through all this trouble just to get you looking. Even then, I did get a bit impatient to meet you, so I thought I'd send this little hint to try and… motivate you."
He moved to the side and the camera blurred again, readjusting to the long distance lens. They didn't need it to focus to understand what was about to happen, who it was in the back, tied to a chair and slumped over. The red covering any of the iconic blue.
"Enjoy the show."
Jason was ashamed to admit that he closed his eyes when the first blow landed. Looked at Batman's unflinching form when the second did. Glanced urgently at Tim instead who had tears in his eyes, but shook his head to say they still hadn't found what they needed.
A choked, wheezing breath from the screen made Jason look up. Face the reality of their failures to find their older brother, his brother.
It was a wonder Nightwing's mask stayed intact, but that was often one of the worst red flags. His captor wasn't even interested in their identity or secrets, he just enjoyed causing pain and Dick was paying for it. Bruises marred the few places of bare skin on Dick's body. The suit hid the worst, probably. Glimpses of it were visible through the rips, tears, cuts in the fabric beneath the blood.
Dick looked like shit. Worse than that. He looked like a corpse. Like how Jason imagined he'd looked that day, in that desert-
No, they knew how that story ended. Dick's would not end the same.
Another blow to the stomach, and Dick curled up as much as he could with his bindings. A small pained noise left his mouth along with a shaky breath this time, and his torturer grinned.
"You can take a break, if you just tell me that it hurts. If you tell dear daddy over there that it hurts."
When Dick glanced up at that, he didn't look towards the screen or the camera. He looked towards an empty corner of the room. Tim's jaw clenched at that, and Jason's blood ran cold wondering why. Then, DIck turned his head towards his captor, straightened as much as he could, wincing, and spat out blood onto the man's shoes.
Bruce shifted then. Standing behind him, Jason couldn't see the change in his expression if there was one at all, but he knew Dick's actions meant hope.
A kick went flying for Dick's head.
Jason closed his eyes again.
Damian was stood on the other side of Batman, parallel to Jason. Jason only looked at him now, as he ignored the sounds of more blows and the man's voice - "You certainly keep feisty company, Batman" - and noticed that the kid was shaking. From anger or fear, it didn't even seem like the kid knew himself. His eyes were glued to the screen, unreacting. Jason discreetly looked back at Alfred, and the butler knew exactly what his question was. He nodded slightly.
Jason moved. He turned away from the screen and walked away, grabbing Robin's wrist gently and pulling him away with him. Damian tried to resist, but only for a moment. Then he just let Jason pull him away, and turn him around when his eyes refused to leave the screen. When Damian finally blinked, a single tear slipped out from under his domino.
1 hour ago, 4:08 am, Sunday
They had a trace. They finally had something tangible to go off of, so the video and all the pain of watching it hadn't gone to waste. Tim and Barbara had managed to pull some geographical information from somewhere within the video, and Jason still had no idea if it was from the video itself or the recording which were apparently two different things. Either way, they knew where to look.
Only problem was… it was probably a trap.
The man - who they had vaguely identified as a minor criminal who'd caused an explosion a while back, someone who never seemed like that big of a threat - wouldn't have given them the video without expecting them to solve it. He obviously had some psychological issues, and in Gotham, that was far from synonymous with stupid. The insane ones were usually unfortunately the most intelligent. The most dangerous.
Bruce had given them a choice. Batman had given them a choice, to back out, once they knew all of the risks.
Not one of them had refused the opportunity to save their brother.
Alfred had frowned, knowing better than to protest. Instead, he'd voiced his concerns while securing his charges' bandages. Damian went through another concussion check, fresh burn creams and bandages on Tim, securing the gauze on Jason's leg, and a stern talking-to for Batman on the importance of keeping his children within their physical capabilities in the face of their injuries. All of that done, and they were finally on their way, trussed up in about twice as many weapons as usual.
Then, they were on their way.
The new location was more of a basement in a derelict building set for demolition. Plenty of area for security to hide, plenty of floors for the Bats to enter from. Now that they were closer, they could scan the building with their tech and locate the biometrics of Nightwing within a room below.
They already had a plan discussed and ready on the way over. Adjusting to the layout of the base took five minutes, tops.
Batman looked at them in turns. They all nodded back.
The Bat reciprocated and finally gave the signal.
They were going to rescue their brother.
They were going to rescue Dick.
Now, 4:57 am, Sunday
"One of you isn't going to make it out, today," the man taunted. "You kill him, or" - two men came up behind Robin and Red Robin, guns aimed at their heads - "we kill them. So fun!"
Jason pulled the trigger.
The gunshot echoed in the small space, still ringing as blood bloomed from the small hole in Nightwing's chest. He slumped over, a puppet cut from its strings. No struggle, no more suffering.
Jason's own chest pounded. His breath refused to reach his lungs, finger unwilling to let go of the trigger. The hard metal was cutting into his glove with how hard he was holding onto it. His eyes wouldn't leave the red bird on Dick's chest, his still chest, because of Jason.
Batman wasn't here to help. To tell him everything was okay, or that it wasn't. Batman was still busy dealing with the flood of goons, having sent the robins after their predecessor for the sake of time. He had no idea his oldest son was dead, not yet. His parents had been killed by guns, and now his son; not only that, but this bullet had been fired by his second son, the resurrected outcast.
All of these thoughts happened within a split second. The world around him was frozen. His brother's death - not dead yet, not if you act fast - would not be in vain. He knew how valuable time was in this moment.
4:57:42 am
Jason aimed the gun to the right-
4:57:44 am
Damian's fist clenches, but he's caught on to the same opportunity Tim has. He channels his turbulent emotions into anger, into power.
4:57:44 am
The captor notices the barrel of a gun now staring him down, and opens his mouth.
4:57:45 am
Robin and Red Robin turn around, facing their own gun barrels. The men's eyes only widen now, but it's too late.
4:57:45 am
Jason pulls the trigger again.
4:57:46 am
Robin's fist is up, and Red Robin has his staff raised.
4:57:47 am
The second gunshot echoes. Red Robin's staff connects with the first man's wrist.
4:57:48 am
The third gunshot echoes, but the bullet ricochets off the ceiling and into the wall. Red Robin has already used his momentum to aim an elbow at the guy's neck, just as Robin snaps his hostile's wrist. The boss in charge of all of this is slowly making his fall to the ground.
4:57:51 am
All three men are on the ground.
4:57:52 am
Jason rushes to Nightwing's side. Tim and Damian waste no time in securing the men and crowding the boss. Everything else is blocked out as Red Hood assesses the damage to his older brother.
There's a lot. He can't deny it, and there's no use pretending otherwise. Robin appears from nowhere and slashes the bindings off of Dick's wrists and ankles, making it easier for Red Hood to find Dick's pulse. He has to almost hug Dick to stop the vigilante from falling over.
Good news is that the stubborn bastard still has blood pumping through him. It's weak, it's faint, but it's there.
Bad news is that the same blood that is stubbornly making its way through his body is also making its way out of his body.
The blood on Dick's lips tells Red Hood there's probably more to it beyond a split lip. Even if his brother survives the gunshot - oh god, he shot Dick, he shot his brother, he killed his brother - there's no guarantee he'll live. It's all just… too much for a person's body to handle.
Eyes are on him, masked eyes, but he can still feel them burn through his helmet. He's grateful they can't see his face. Faking his body language is hard enough.
"He's still alive," he says, because he has to.
Tim lets out a small relieved breath, but Damian stays silent.
Jason sighs internally. "I'll carry him out, but I need you to- "
"Take care of the rest? Done."
Damian seethes. "They all deserve to die for this."
"They do," Jason agrees darkly. "But not tonight. We don't want our efforts wasted if the punishment changes."
Red Robin looks nervously between them, but Jason and Damian just share a nod. A promise, to deal out retribution. Whether Jason was the one to shoot the final bullet or not, he can redeem himself with this, at least in Damian's eyes. They have an understanding. All the Robins do.
The first Robin, their brother, comes first. No matter what.
4 hours later, 9:02 am, Sunday
Alfred only just takes a break from treating Dick, letting Dr. Tompkins deal with the easier procedures so the butler can take care of the others. No one slept. No one could. They all just sat in the Cave - Bruce going in and out of the medbay when he was needed, or just if they heard a flatline - and waited.
Barbara and Gordon were updated. They, in turn, informed the Bats of where the gang was, what they were doing, recovering. The Commissioner wasn't exactly happy with the bleeding-out crime boss, but he was lucky he didn't get a corpse. Jason had been tempted, but he knew that a swift death was more than the man deserved. Damian and him had to pay the kind man back for his hospitality towards their brother after all.
Not until the severity of the retribution was determined though. Not until they knew if they were taking an eye for an eye or a life for a life.
7 hours later, 12:30 pm, Sunday
Dick was declared stable enough for the Bats to rest. Alfred was ready to drug them all into sleeping and feeding them through an IV, but they all grudgingly complied with the few bites of breakfast they could down and sleeping in the Cave.
If all of them were awoken by nightmares of a flatline, no one said anything.
15 hours later, 8:03 pm, Sunday
"Alfred says you're in a coma."
Jason's voice seems loud in the quiet room, nestled among the various beeping and humming of machines. He pauses, as if his words will miraculously cure the unconscious man in the bed before him, and make the corpse-like body reanimate with Dick's energy again. When nothing happens, he sighs and continues.
"He says it might last a while, that you have a lot to recover from. That last bit is partly my fault, sorry about that. I guess you could say we're finally even, right?" The laugh that slips out is bitter, and Jason pinches the bridge of his nose.
"I'm sorry. Tim said something about you maybe being able to hear me and you know me, I couldn't resist the opportunity to force you to listen. Um. Anyway…"
Jason stood from his chair, turning away from the bed. His feet started pacing as he muttered. "This is stupid, I don't even know why- stupid Tim, and stupid Google telling me that familiar voices and normalcy might help. I'm part of the fucking problem, I shot you- "
He chokes on the word, on the breath. If he keeps his eyes closed, he can imagine that Dick is awake behind him. That when Jason opens his eyes and turns, Dick will be giving him those sad, loving eyes, and that bittersweet smile and say "it's okay, Little Wing, I forgive you." Or something else stupidly cheesy that will make Jason laugh but his inside really warm and fuzzy, or maybe he'd crack a stupid joke and Jason would roll his eyes and pretend to rub his nose so he can hide the smile overtaking his face.
But when Jason wipes away the angry - sad, scared, guilty - tears, and turns back around, Dick is still lying there on the bed. Still, and cold as ice. Pale. Hooked up to too many machines, a tube too close to his face, bandages over almost every part of his body. Some hid cuts, some hid bruises and broken bones, some hid stitches and the evidence of emergency procedures to deal with the countless injuries, and internal bleeding, and burns, and torture-
Jason sits back down next to the bed and leans over until his head rests beside Dick's hand. If he closes his eyes again, he can imagine Dick hesitating to run his fingers through Jason's hair because neither of them knows how to ask or give permission to be close to one another.
"Alfred forced everyone to eat some dinner. That's where the others are, if you were wondering. I'll go eat when Tim is done, and he'll take the next shift to watch you. When I left, Bruce was having an argument - sorry, a discussion - with Damian about him going to school in the morning. He doesn't want to leave you, but technically, you shouldn't spontaneously die in the six hours he'll be gone, so there's no real reason for him to stay. I guess he's just shaken. I try to step up when you're not here, but I don't know how to talk to him the way you do."
"Then talk to him the way you do," Jason imagines Dick saying.
"It's not that easy though. The language we speak is the League's, loyalty and violence and unspoken strength. I can't think of doing much more than sparring with him, but it's not enough. He… all of us, because Tim and I count, we're a little messed up from all this. And Bruce…" - Jason scoffs, but there's no heat to it - "I never know what's going on in his head. You did, sometimes, but not me. He's pissed. Scared. But that's just how we all feel. Seeing you like that… none of us know what to do with the feelings; that was your department."
He lifts his head, chin still on the bed, but now he can watch the rise and fall of Dick's chest. The laboured, irregular breaths, but he is breathing.
"I guess I just…"
Jason inhales a shaky breath, timing it with Dick's.
"I don't know. I miss how it was before sometimes. Back when I was Robin. Those few days when you were here, and Bruce was out, or busy, so you weren't shouting at each other and life was so much simpler."
He can see the few fine lines on Dick's face from here. Smile lines, mostly, but tiny scars too. All up Dick's bandaged arm to his scalp. His brother looks old, but not peaceful. They're not kids anymore, running around and taking down bad guys. Batman can't just give them a hug and make the nightmares go away anymore, can't kiss the boo-boo and make it all better.
"I really am sorry for shooting you. I just.. I didn't see another way without getting the other two hurt. There was a time when I would have gladly shot any one of you but… but that's a lie. I'd never have shot you. Not with the intention to kill you. Inconvenience you, maybe in my worst moments. Shoot Bruce, I'd do that even now some days. But you… you're like a mosquito. Stubborn and annoying and always there, buzzing in my ear. Actually, no, you're like that cricket thing in Pinocchio. The conscience. Fucking annoying you are sometimes. 'Don't kill him, Jay', 'he's not worth it, Little Wing'. Pisses me off. But at least I get to hear your voice. That'd be nice, right now. Even if you were telling me to go eat. Even if you were mad at me for shooting you, or not getting there sooner.
"I just want you to be alive. Just… just don't die on me, okay?"
There's some footsteps outside, familiar ones, but exaggerated. Jason hates that Tim thought of giving him a warning like that. Loves it, but hates that he's so predictable.
He straightens in his seat, wiping his face of anything that might indicate vulnerability.
"Tim will be here in a bit. I'm actually getting a bit hungry, so perfect timing. I'll hang around for a few days, i think. You'd love it, so, you know, wake up soon to take advantage of it. Otherwise, I might just leave without you knowing just how many days I lasted in this hell hole without you nagging me to stay. Scratch that, let's make it a bet. I reckon I can stay here for ten days, no prompting. I'll even put fifty bucks on the line. Fifty bucks, for you to win easy. All you gotta do is wake up before then - and I'm being generous here with ten whole days - and you win.
"All you gotta do is wake up.
"Please."