Chapter Text
Dick knew Bruce was hiding something from him.
It was the way he stared at old photos and paintings just a little longer than usual, the way he'd fall into melancholic silences instead of brooding ones, the way his gaze resolutely slid over the glass case in the cave when it used to linger for a moment. He knew the man was keeping another secret, a big one. Dick needed to know what it was, why it was seemingly being kept from everyone else.
He'd asked Alfred, but all he'd been told was that Bruce had come back from patrol early a week or so before he'd arrived, more brooding that usual. And that Alfred had found him stood at Jason's door, staring at the wood. He'd asked Tim, as well, but he'd had even less information than Alfred. Apparently he'd patrolled alone for the night, something that had been happening more often as the boy pushed for more independence within the city. He hadn't seen Bruce when he got back to the cave, and hadn't seen him when he'd made his way back up to the Manor.
Dick knew it had something to do with Jason, he wasn't stupid. The way he ignored the display case, they way he'd been found standing infront of the perpetually closed door, the way Dick had caught him staring at the painting done not long after the boy's adoption, only to be secreted away in the depths of the Manor after his death. Dick had only caught the last thing because he'd been following Bruce, the man showing a disturbing lack of awareness, too lost in his own thoughts even though Dick knew he wasn't good enough to sneak up on Bruce normally.
Batman wasn't any better, sending Nightwing and Robin on patrols and venturing off on his own, lurking around Uptown whilst they had been told to stick with the other islands Gotham sat on. Dick had tried talking to him, but had been dismissed every time, told it wasn't something he needed to be concerned about, that it wasn't an issue.
It only got more convoluted when he tried looking at the Batcomputer.
— — —
Dick's in the cave whilst Bruce was away at WE and Tim was in school. He'd heard about Red Hood even in Blüdhaven and New York, the man's stunts making him notorious amongst the criminal underground. A dufflebag of heads, the battered body of the Joker, the beaten and sliced open corpse of Black Mask. Death and destruction followed him as he pulled his way up in the Gotham underworld. Dick had thought he might have been a Joker fan boy, with the name, now he feared the man was something much worse.
Did he kill the Joker because of a rivalry? Was it vengeance? Or was he trying to take the Joker's place?
Dick had planned to look at Batman's notes, maybe help out and add in some rumours he'd heard spreading around his city. He'll never get that far, however, as the file is completely locked down. So locked down, in fact, that he can't hack his way into them. He'd ask Oracle, but Babs is busy and if Bruce had locked down the file so tightly then Dick wouldn't get away with asking when he was anywhere nearby.
So, making his own plan it is, then.
— — —
Nightwing had left Robin to patrol around the Upper East Side, slipping back into Uptown. Robin was capable, and Bruce was in Burnley, according to Oracle, so he could get to the kid if he needed to. Oracle had wanted to know his plan, but Dick had asked her to not listen in on his feed unless he specifically turned the comm of to speak. Whilst they could control what went through the feed, she tended to keep an ear out for any signs of distress regardless. It had come in handy before, but he needed privacy. She had made Dick agree to talk to her after, though, and promise to call for help if he needed it.
So, he was currently grappling around the edge of Crime Alley, hesitant to enter the center of the crime lord's territory. Red Hood had made it clear what he thought of Batman, something that almost definitely extended to the rest of the city's vigilantes.
But he needed to speak to him. Red Hood had something to do with what Bruce was hiding and if Bruce was hiding something related to Jason…
Well, Red Hood being connected to that could only mean trouble.
Nightwing spots some of Hood's men, easily visible due to the vibrant red that was on atleast one piece of clothing, skulking about the alleys and makes himself visible, giving them a cheeky wave before vanishing into the shadows. He watches as they look at eachother, looking back at where he'd let them spot him before one of them sighs.
“We should tell Hood about that, shouldn't we?” One of them, the one with red gloves, says nervously.
“Obviously. Y'know Hood doesn't want the Bats in his territory, especially not in the Alley!” The other, this one with a red beanie that did a terrible job of covering up his hair, said, sounding exasperated.
“Well no shit, but he's been avoiding the Bat lately! How're we meant t'know if he's gonna flip on us or not?” Gloves exclaims.
“Well, he'll definitely flip if we don’t tell him!” Hat retorts, pulling out a phone and dialling someone. “So, we got a situation.”
“Nightwing's been spotted down by where Hood sent me to keep an eye on shit.”
“Yeah that's the place.”
“Okay, will do.” He slips the phone back into his pocket. “That's sorted then, let's get out of here. Hood said the Bats like to eavesdrop and I don't want to risk Nightwing dropping in on us.”
With that, they leave and Dick's stuck pacing the roof he's camping out on. He keeps an eye out for Red Hood, watching for movement in the shadows or the gleam of moonlight on red metal.
— — —
Somehow, he doesn't notice when Red Hood arrives, despite his vigilance. The criminal lands on the roof with a thud that could've only been purposeful, considering his previous silence. Nightwing whips around, escrima sticks already in hand, and is met with a tall man standing at the edge of the roof, hands casually tucked away in the pockets of his leather jacket. Blank white eyes stare at him and it feels like they're making direct eye contact, despite the masks , when he looks Red Hood in the face. Dick studies him for a moment, taking in the body armour and numerous visible weapons. All the visible holsters are filled, but that doesn't mean that Red Hood's not got something tucked away along with his hands.
Red Hood seems to study him as well for a moment, before he decides the break the tension.
“New costume? Gotta say, it's a much better look than the high collar,” He's…teasing? The voice modulator makes it hard to decipher his tone, but the statement is almost light hearted. Not anything like the menace Dick had been picturing.
“Sometimes you need to change things up,” He replies. “Have we met before, then?”
Getting information out of him won't be easy, Red Hood seems too smart for that, but Dick may as well see what he's willing to say. Red Hood seems to pause at his question though, another moment passing before he speaks.
“We definitely met before, several times, in fact,” It's as if he's not exactly sure of what to say, confidence slipping away in the face of confusion.
“Small world, I guess,” Dick shrugs, forcing himself to be casual and not push for more. People tend to let things slip without realising if they think you're just making casual conversation, not interrogating them. It may not work, but it's worth a shot, it also means Hood won't try and attack him. Dick doesn't want to get shot tonight, thank you very much. “So, what did I know you by, then?”
It feels like a step too far when the other man pauses again.
But then his hands are reaching up and unlatching his helmet with a series of soft clicks. It comes off, Red Hood tucking it under his arm, and…
Oh.
That's what the connection is.
Staring back at Dick is an older version of Jason, red, lenseless domino framing his eyes.
A mask under a mask, Dick would laugh if he didn't feel like his chest was caving in.
He stares at this new Jason, this new Jason who's too tall and broad to be the malnourished kid Dick had known. This new Jason with white streaking through his hair, breaking up black curls. This new Jason with a smile that makes Dick think of an oil slick, instead of the glowing smiles he'd occasionally received before Jason had died. This new Jason who was alive, and stood infront of him, solid and real and right there.
Dick must be hallucinating, it must be fake, Jason was dead, his ghost haunting Dick ever since he'd come back to earth only to find he'd missed the funeral. Jason can't be alive, can't be Red Hood, because that means he chose not to come home.
“You can't…” Dick speaks slowly, forcing his voice not to shake.
“Can't what?” Red Hood sneers, defensive and agressive all at once.
“You aren't real,” It can't be Jason. Dick's brain is torturing him again.
“But I am,” The smile is back, mocking and twisted and wrong. “Didn't Bruce tell you? I came back, Dick.”
Bruce…
“He knows?” Dick's warring with himself, anger at Bruce rising up amongst his guilt and shock.
“He's known for days, Dick,” Red Hood's definitely mocking him now, unmodulated voice full of faux pity. “He really didn't tell you, did he?”
“He…” Dick pauses, Bruce hands told anyone, right? Tim or Alfred would've told him if they'd known, surely. “He didn't tell anyone.”