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Tim blinks, “you love me?” He asks, confused, but then his eyes widen, “wait– does that mean it–”“You sent me back just in time,” Dick lets out a watery laugh. It’s a little hard to speak clearly for some reason.“Wait, really?” Tim doesn’t seem to notice, letting out his own shocked laugh and running his hands through his hair. Dick nods, his head bursting with pain at the movement, but he’s too giddy to care, “I got to him just in time– the warehouse exploded just as I pulled him out.”“Oh my god,” Tim breathes, letting out a frantic laugh, “I was trying to send you to just after you left! Oh my god, that could’ve been bad.”“So bad,” Dick agrees, laughing, but then his laughter starts turning into sobs, and he can’t stop it. He covers his face. He knows how much crying makes Tim uncomfortable. “Oh,” he can hear Tim shifting nervously next to him, “um. Why don’t you stand up?” He kneels down, helping Dick up into a sitting position. He feels fingers painfully probe the back of his head, and it takes him a moment to realize that Tim's checking for injuries. “I don’t– I don’t know if I actually managed to save him,” Dick sobs, “he was so badly injured.”“What happened once you got him away?”“Bruce came– he called for Superman.”“He’ll be fine then,” Tim smiles reassuringly, “Clark probably took him up to the watchtower. There’s no better healthcare than up there.”Dick sniffles, “I want to see Jason again.”Tim winces, “sorry, if I sent you back I’d probably lose you in the space time continuum forever–”“No, I want to see our Jason again,” he looks around the cave, “where did he go?”Tim’s face shutters, “I don't know. It doesn’t matter anyway, because I noticed something interesting while you were saving him. While the monitor was locked onto the timeline you were in, I saw it kind of… wriggle away?”Dick blinks, feeling oddly thrown by the topic change “what do you mean?”Tim has that deep concentration face again, “like, I think the closer a timeline is to our one, the more similar it is. If it moved away, then– I think that means you’ve changed it properly. It went from a timeline where everything is the same but Dick got possessed by himself for a for weeks, to a timeline where Jason lives. I think,” Tim shrugs, “that’s the best I can offer you, sorry.”“That’s– that’s more than enough, Tim,” he sniffles, “thank you. Can– can I have a hug?”Tim does that wide eyed blush he always does when someone asks for contact. It’s similar to baby Jason’s face, when Dick told him he loved him. He nods, and Dick gladly pulls him in. Unlike Jason, Tim doesn’t have a timer. He’s happy to be held for as long as Dick is willing to hold him.“Thank you so much,” he murmurs“I wish I could've figured out how to send you earlier,” Tim mumbles, “that must have been– that must’ve really sucked.”“Tim, you sent me back in time to save him, that’s all I asked for.”They sit there for a long time, and Dick savors the first contact he’s had in weeks that doesn’t have a timer over them– that isn’t tainted with the knowledge that he isn’t who they think he is. He can’t seem to stop crying, even though he wants to– wants to stop making Tim feel uncomfortable. He’s still sniffling when they hear footsteps, and they pull away to see Bruce, looking down at them with hooded eyes. “Dick,” he grunts. He has the same constipated expression his younger self did, whenever emotions came up. It’s almost funny. Bruce avoids eye contact, looking at the monitors Tim set up like they’re the most interesting thing in the world, “I’ll– I would…” he stops and sighs, “I’d be willing to let you go back and– try.”Dick pauses, looking at Bruce. Even now, there’s conflict in his eyes. Against his every judgment, he’s giving Dick permission; because he loves Jason, just as much as Dick does, and the idea of letting any version of Jason die is unbearable, even if it doesn’t change what happened in their timeline. He lets out a shaky breath, “come on, Bruce, do you really know us?”Bruce turns to look at him, not looking surprised at all, “you already did it,” he says, visibly holding his breath. He’s waiting for the answer, and Dick knows that he’s expecting to hear the worst. He always does. “I saved him,” he says softly, and just talking about it again is bringing up tears, “Tim sent me back just in time. I got Jason out of there, and you called for Superman, but I– I woke up before I could see what happened next.”Bruce stares at the walls of the cave, wide eyed. Dick can see the shine of tears in his eyes. “I’m– I’m very confident it worked,” Tim blurts out, “I saw the timeline Dick was in move away from our own. I believe this implies–”“Save it for the report, Tim,” Bruce interjects, and Tim’s mouth closes with a snap. Dick scowls, opening his mouth to tell Bruce off, but his expression stops Dick in his tracks. It’s so tired, and yet– more open than Dick had ever seen it, these past few years. All the grief and pain is mapped out on Bruce’s face, and it’s startling. Usually Bruce tries so hard to hide it. “Well?” Bruce asks, his voice hoarse like he’s pushing past tears, “was it worth it?”Dick can’t help the little laugh that might be a sob, “of course it was. Come on, Bruce,” he wipes his face, “you would have done exactly the same thing, in my shoes.”Bruce’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t deny it. That’s as good as agreeing, with him, “don’t ever do anything like that again,” he clears his throat, “you don’t know how it could have affected the time space continuum. You got extremely lucky. Keep your guard up around individuals with time powers, next time,” he turns away with a curt nod, and Dick rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I love you too, B,” Bruce stumbles, almost imperceptibly. Dick wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t watching for it. “My,” Alfred suddenly says, and Dick jumps. He’d been so focused on reading Bruce’s tells, that he completely missed Alfred walking in, “isn’t this quite a mess you got yourself into?” Despite the swirling emotions he doesn’t want to face, a small smile drags itself on his face, and he stumbles up to give Alfred a big hug, kissing him on the cheek. Alfred stumbles, but Dick keeps a grip on him, “good lord– what on earth brought all this on?”“You’re the best, Alfred,” his head suddenly explodes in pain, and he squeezes Alfred to hide it, making him wheeze.“Of course I am,” Alfred mutters, and Dick feels his arm rest on his back, “my other self assisted you, I presume?” Dick pulls back, having to hold onto Alfred when he gets a little dizzy.“I couldn’t have saved Jay without him.” A flash of grief spills over Alfred's face, and he squeezes Dick’s hand, “well. I'm glad that my other self has my judgment," he pulls out a penlight, “I wish I could say the same for you,” he mutters, shining it in Dick’s eye. “Ow– Bruce already checked me over!”“That was before you hit your head on the stone floor.”“Sorry,” Tim mumbles from behind him. “Hm. I do believe you have a concussion," Alfred tuts.“Not bad though, right?” he mumbles, gripping his head.“You’ve certainly had worse. Regardless, I want to observe you overnight.”His heart seizes at the idea. He– he wanted– he wanted to see Jason. He’s not here, and he wants to see him again.He’s all Dick can think about, Jason’s blush when Dick told him he loved him, Jason's face swollen and bleeding; Jason's helmet, hiding everything familiar from view. Dick– he needs to see his face again. Even if Jason shoots him– even if Dick makes everything worse– he needs to see his face again. “Can’t I just leave?” he finds himself asking, though he knows it’s a losing battle. As expected, Alfred scoffs, “if you think I will let you anywhere near a motorcycle, then you are clearly not the Master Dick I know and love.”Dick sighs, and Tim snickers. He shouldn’t have said anything, because now that Alfred knows he’s a flight risk, he’s not given any chance to sneak away as he’s bullied into his room. Alfred watches as he lies in bed, and closes his door, probably assuming that Dick would be out like a light. No chance. He sits up slowly, breathing through the pain, and goes to the window. He needs to see Jason again, he just– he just needs to.
One thousand, nine hundred and seventeen days after.
When Jason had seen the flash of bright light, had seen Dick fall to the ground like a ragdoll, his stomach had fallen onto the ground with him. He had stared at Dick, expecting him to jump up, twitch and groan– do fucking something. But he didn’t. By the time he looked up, the Clock King was gone, the fire was spreading, and Jason didn’t have time to fucking think. So he grabbed Dick and brought him to the fucking cave, because– because– he’s a fucking idiot. When Dick had fallen, just like he’d been shot– like he was dead before he hit the ground, Jason felt a part of himself that he’s tried his best to bury cry out in panic– the part of him that still wants Dick to be his big brother.He’d been expecting a fight when he came back; expected Bruce to kick him out, punch him, shout at him, stick a tranquilizer in his neck to send him to Arkham–Instead he’d grabbed Dick out of his arms and rushed to the med bay– barely even paying attention to Jason.And he’d stayed. The replacement came back with an armful of research he’d saved from the fire, setting up his weird ass computers and got to work. He should have left. Anyone with a brain cell should have left. Why didn’t he leave?Because– the research. He needed the research, so he could wake the kids up, once he fucking found then from wherever Tim dumped them– probably some random alleyway. Jason stayed, so he could learn as much about the process of waking a person up from- whatever the fuck the Clock King did to them. The guy had been pretty fucking sure that it was impossible to wake them up, but– clearly, it wasn’t. Tim and Bruce eventually managed it, and Dick hadn’t seemed to be much worse for wear than usual. Except for the way he kept glancing at Jason, like he was a ghost. Except for the way he explained what happened– where he had been. 2015. April. Except for the way he begged Bruce to let him go back, to save Jason, he–He was fucking going to go to Ethiopia with Jason?The green in his vision and the bile rising in his throat told him he needed to be out of here yesterday. So he did But he doesn’t fucking feel any better. Dick– Dick said he’d been in April, 2015 for two weeks. Two fucking weeks. That’s so much time. What the fresh fuck had he been doing?Well, duh. He’d been trying to save Jason’s life. Of course he was, that’s what a hero would do. He said he couldn’t not. Couldn’t just let some innocent child die. Couldn’t let him turn into the monster Jason is now. How the fuck did he get Jason to tell Dick about Ethiopia? He told no one about Ethiopia, not even Alfred. Did– did he spend his time gaining Jason’s trust, knowing that he would disappear from this timeline at any moment, knowing any care he’d shown would’ve been taken away the moment he returned to his teenage self?Though– maybe Dick didn’t need to do much convincing. Jason fucking adored him, for some reason. He tried to call him, before he died, so he could talk about what an asshole Bruce was– about how alone and scared he felt. Maybe he would’ve told Dick about Ethiopia, if Dick had said the right words. He told Sheila that he was Robin, when she said all the right words. No wonder he fucking died. He goes back home– goes back to Crime Alley, where everything makes sense– where he doesn’t have to think about what happened, and what Dick did– what he’s doing. Trying to save Jason. What would it mean if he succeeded– fucking nothing. It doesn’t affect him, so why the hell should he care?He needs to focus on reality. On the kids. He tracks them down, and finds that Tim put them in a hospital– coincidentally one of the only ones Jason actually trusts, other than Leslie’s office. They look almost peaceful, sound asleep. From what Jason can interpret of the machines tracking their vitals, they’re perfectly healthy. It’s going to be a while until he can wake them up, he realizes. One thing he’d realized while Tim and Bruce were trying to wake Dick up, was that something about Dick’s circumstances made it easier to wake him up– the recency in which he’d been zapped by the time machine or whatever, made it so that it didn’t take long at all to wake him, comparatively. How long ago were the kids zapped? How long will it take to wake them up? Just thinking about it makes him want to shoot somebody– preferably the Clock King. The bastard had the fucking gall to go into his territory and take his kids like they were free game, like they didn’t matter.Well. Once Jason finds him, he’ll make it so that these kids will be the only thing on the man’s mind. It’s rare that he doesn’t actually have a time limit. The victim’s bodies seem to be under some sort of magical time stasis, but Jason still wants them awake as soon as possible. Their bodies may not move on without them, but their lives will. And their lives matter, contrary to what the Clock King thinks. Contrary to what everyone else thinks. The anger is nice. Familiar. Not accompanied with all these fucking emotions like thinking about Dick is. Dick did it out of a sense of duty, that’s all. An homage to the person Jason used to be or some shit like that. Fuck, maybe Jason himself had nothing to do with it. Maybe Dick is just saving some fifteen year old from a gruesome death. He thinks he’s supposed to feel grateful, but he just feels fucking tired. Focus on reality. What’s right in front of him. He makes his way further into Crime Alley, heading into the direction of a prominent group home; prominent because it’s actually a group home, and not a trafficking ring or a crime school in disguise. Jason’s thoroughly checked, and he’s made it clear to the employees what will happen if they sacrifice a kid’s wellbeing for more money to line their pockets. He climbs up the building. If his intel is correct, Mike’s window should be this one. He knocks, and barely a moment later, Mike appears, looking tired and grumpy. The moment he realizes it’s Jason, he lights up, shoving the window open, “Hood!”“Hey, squirt,” he smiles, though the kid can’t see it, “how’re you doing?” He looks the kid over, but he doesn’t look any more banged up than when Tim pulled him out of that fucking cage. Seeing the bandages cover all the injuries the Clock King gave him makes green leak into the corners of his vision, but he holds it back with the smoothness of years of practice. Breathing techniques help a lot. Mike shrugs, minding his sore shoulder, “I dunno,” he’s so much more subdued then when Jason saw him last, bouncing at his sister’s side as Jason gave them a crate of non perishables. She had been suspicious of him, but all of the condemned buildings outside of Jason’s protection had been taken. Jason had been surprised when she had come to him for help, tipping him off to the disappearances in the first place. “Been a fucking busy day, huh?”“I wanna go back to Luna,” Mike mumbles.“I know. Hey, I'm working on it, okay? You’ll be together soon,” he doesn’t mention that he's working on getting her to willingly join Mike in the group home. Here can provide better care than living in one of Jason’s condemned buildings can, and she’s too young to be taking care of Mike, anyway. She deserves the chance to relax a little. “Okay,” Mike mumbles miserably, too wiped to argue much, “are Olivia and Mia okay? Um– he said that they were never ever gonna wake up.”Jason rolls his eyes, “the Clock King doesn’t know anything, he’s a big fat liar. And you know what? My broth–” he cuts himself off far too late, and bites back a curse. He wants to stay as anonymous as possible, and referencing a family isn’t fucking subtle. But it’s too late now. He hides a growl with a clearing of his throat, “my– my brother– the one in the dumb black and blue costume, remember? He got hit with the Clock King’s time machine and you know what? We woke him up. So Olivia and Mia will be fine.”Mike gives him a hesitant smile, “okay,” he chews on his fingers thoughtfully, “I didn't know you had a brother.”Jason resists the urge to groan, “don’t go telling anyone else about it, okay?”“Okay!” Mike smiles, thrilled to know a secret. By this time tomorrow, the whole group home will know about Hood’s brother. He sighs.“I’ll check up on you tomorrow,” he pulls himself up, climbing towards the roof. “Byee,” Mike whispers theatrically, and closes the window. Jason can’t help but laugh a little. Sometimes he kind of fucking hates his… he guesses he could call this a job, but little moments like this makes him feel like maybe it’s worth getting out of bed, sometimes. He feels much better, for having distracted himself. A few more nights without thinking about time travel, and he’ll have forgotten the whole thing happened. He climbs up onto the roof, and freezes. Dick is here– why the fuck is Dick here? He’s supposed to be– fucking saving his alternate’s self’s life or something. Instinctively, his hand goes to his gun, but Dick doesn’t react. He stays where he is, sitting on the aircon unit. He’s– looking at Jason strangely– almost emotionally, like how he’d been looking at Jason in the cave. It makes him feel sick. He doesn’t understand it– what does it fucking mean? And what the hell is Jason supposed to fucking do about it? They have a truce. He’s supposed to leave Jason alone. “Hey,” Dick finally croaks out, and it cuts through the silence. It’s wet, like he’s been fucking crying or something. Does– does that mean he’s failed? That’s– Jason doesn’t even know how he feels about that– he doesn’t fucking care. What the fuck does Dick even want?“What the fuck do you want?” He asks just that, his mind racing through the possibilities? A trick? An interrogation?Right now, it could be fucking anything, because Dick looks nervous, and it’s making him feel off balance far more than it should. He’s not a little kid, needing Dick to know if everything’s okay. Dick steps forwards, and Jason steps back, his hand touching his gun. To his surprise, Dick stops advancing.“I–” Dick pauses, seeming to flounder a little, like he has no idea where to start. “Fucking spit it out,” Jason snaps, his heart pounding. He just wants to know what Dick wants. Whether he’ll be able to go back to his apartment tonight or not, “I thought you were supposed to be saving my life.”Dick blinks, looking surprised, “I– I was. I did.”He– he did save him? That’s– that doesn’t matter, “then why the fuck are you so weepy? What the fuck are you doing here?” Let me go, he thinks desperately, even though it makes no sense. He could just leave, if he wants to. Sure, Dick could chase him, but Jason knows Park Row better than all the bats combined. He could just leave. But– there’s something about Dick right now that makes him feel trapped, that makes him feel like he can’t leave, and he fucking hates it. “I just– I needed to see you,” he looks up at Jason with that disgusting emotional look again, and Jason–Jason doesn’t understand.It almost hurts to recontextualise Dick’s actions like this, but there’s no other choice; because the cool headed hero who will save everybody doesn’t fit. But– the Dick that’s right in front of him doesn’t fit, either. Dick doesn’t give a shit about him– only about the kid who’s long, long dead. Since he’d revealed his identity, Dick had done his best to avoid Jason– especially after he taught the replacement a lesson. This doesn’t make any fucking sense. “W-what?” Is all he can say, and his modulator only just manages to hide how weakly he’d delivered it. “I needed to see you,” Dick emphasizes, but Jason doesn’t understand, “your– your face.”Jason’s insides grow cold. His feet are frozen to the roof, as Dick takes another step, reaching his arms out to Jason, “you looked exactly how I remembered, Jay, god, you were so young. I need to– I need to see how you’ve changed–”He touches the latch of Jason’s helmet, and Jason abruptly unfreezes, grabbing his gun and slamming it into the side of Dick’s face. He stumbles away, grabbing his now bleeding cheek, looking at Jason with wide eyes– like he’s fucking surprised or something. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He shouts, and Dick puts his hands up. “Okay– I won't. I’m– I’m sorry, I just–”“You–” he forces past his racing heart– past his rapidly tightening throat, “you wanna see my fucking face?” His face, mutilated and destroyed by the Joker– by the explosion– by the coffin? Dick wants him to take off his hood and fucking watch as he looks for a ghost? Fuck. That. “No.”Dick jerks like he’s been electrocuted, “Ja–”“No! You can’t– you can’t fucking ignore me for three fucking years, and then ask to see my goddamn face! You don’t get to see my fucking face!” His face burns where Dick had touched the latch of his helmet.Dick’s eyes widen, “okay– okay, Jason,” he holds up his hands. “Fuck you!” Jason screams, furious.“I’m sorry– I-I wasn’t thinking– I’m sorry.”“Shut up!” Jason snaps, and almost fucking shoots Dick. Fuck. He needs to leave. He needs to get out here before he fucking kills him, “don’t fucking talk to me again,” he strangles out, and jumps off the roof. He makes a beeline to his flat, stumbling onto the floor and tearing off his mask, letting out a strangled noise. He buries his face in his hands, feeling the bumps and ridges of his scars underneath his fingertips. He can’t breathe. What the fuck was that? How fucking dare he– who gave him the fucking right?Just fucking–
Fuck.
One thousand, nine hundred and twenty days after.
After that, Jason threw himself into the case– because he’s not fucking thinking about– whatever the hell that was. He has far more important priorities, like hunting down the Clock King so Jason can convince that bastard to tell him how to wake the fucking kids up. And everyone else. Right now, it’s the only lead he has, because the replacement has all of the research he needs; and after the weird bullshit with Dick, he’d rather shoot himself than go back to the cave and risk running into him again. Just thinking about him makes rage boil up inside him. He should have fucking shot him, just for touching his helmet, for thinking he has any right to touch Jason at all. Fuck him. Fuck him. Nobody can touch Jason.What did he even fucking want? Once he sees Jason’s face– would they just go back to hating each other? How the fuck would he react when he didn’t find what he was looking for? If- if he did? What, just because he saved some random version of himself from the Joker Jason would be all grateful and shit? Stop killing and let him escort him to Arkham? Fuck that. Jason isn’t going to change– will never change because his way works. Crime Alley is the best it’s been since Bruce’s parents got shot. Kids don’t run drugs or weapons, human traffickers have been driven out, and bastards with guns think twice before hurting somebody on Jason’s territory. Hood’s done in a few years that Batman couldn’t do in over a decade, because unlike Bruce, he actually cares about real people. The drug addicts, the homeless– the imperfect victims. He’ll never abandon them, not even to– to rejoin his family. It wouldn’t be real, anyway. No matter what fancy time travel devices are out there, Jason knows the truth. There’s no going back. He needs to stop thinking about this– about Bruce, Dick, time travel shit– there’s only what’s in front of him, and that's gathering information he sorely needs. The Clock King is so incompetent it’s actually funny. When he made his great getaway, apparently all he did to go off the grid was call up the Riddler and ask to hide out in one of his safe houses. He didn’t even use a burner phone. What a loser. It’s so fucking infuriating that a guy so incompetent is the sole reason why some of Jason’s kids are in a coma right now. At the very least, the Riddler didn’t even put the Clock King up in one of his fancy abodes. He put him in a– a ware– a storage facility. Jason laughed for like five minutes when he found that out. The Riddler probably figured that the Red Hood would be on the hunt, and decided not to waste a perfectly good apartment. Smart guy. The Clock King lets out a nasally shout of surprise when Jason drops in on his cute little abode, standing up to run but almost instantly falling over. The leg Jason shots looks awful, all infected and shit. Did he even bother to clean it?He could shoot his other leg to make sure he can’t run, but Jason doesn’t want to waste a bullet. He walks up to where he is, scrambling on the ground, and stops his progress with a boot on his wound, making the man scream, “it’s cute how you think you can run away,” Jason says, his modulator making him sound almost robotic. He uses his boot to kick him onto his back, “did you actually think this was a good hiding place?”“I–” the Clock King gasps, completely surprised that his master plan failed, “the Riddler said–”“Wow, and you trusted him. That’s so cute," Jason croons, and the Clock King gets that expression that Jason revels in. The one where a man realises how completely and utterly fucked they are– where they realise that they picked on the wrong target. It soothes an old, aching wound within him, laying over it like a balm. This is what’s supposed to happen to shitheads who hurt kids. This is what should’ve happened to the shitheads who hurt him. But he can’t kill the Clock King, however much he wants to. He needs information, not revenge. Though, the two aren’t mutually exclusive. He feels his crowbar bump against his waist. He believes in reclamation, taking the things that hurt him and making it his own. It’s why he’s the Red Hood.But this fucking warehous– storage facility is making him feel fucking– ugh.He’s not weak. He’s stronger than the things that have hurt him. He grabs his crowbar and watches the Clock King’s eyes widen in fear. Good, some part of him thinks.No, another part cries.“I’m– I’m sorry for sending Nightwing back in time!” the man babbles, “I– I didn’t know you were allied with him–”“I don’t give a shit about Nightwing,” Jason growls, his heart in his throat, “those kids you stole. How do I wake them up?”“You–” the man looks lost, and Jason hates it, “I– I told you, you can’t–”“Wrong answer,” he says, and drives the crowbar into the man’s ribs. The gurgling scream makes his heart rate speed up and his throat tighten. It’s because he’s happy. Excited. There’s nothing like beating the shit out of someone who deserves it. “I promise!” the Clock King cries, blubbering already, “I promise, I promise, I’m not lying I promise!”Coward. He presses the heel of the bar in the Clock King’s throat, “see, I know you’re a liar, because guess what? Robin woke up Nightwing.”Instead of getting angry at being caught out, the Clock King’s face stutters in confusion, “wh– what?” He chokes, “that shouldn’t– how–” Jason sees green, and smashes the crowbar into his shoulder“Don’t fucking lie!” He shouts over the man’s shouts, “the replacement figured it out from half of your research! Fucking tell me!”“I d–don’t know! I thought it was impossible!” The man cries, “that’s why I chose kids for the experiments, I was–!””“Fuck you!” Jason roars, “you chose them because you knew they couldn’t fight back! Because you thought that no one would care!”“Why don’t you just get Robin to help you!?” The man screams, and Jason sees green.It’s been a long time since he’s last felt like this– felt like his body was moving on its own as he grabs his gun and points it at the man’s face. He’s just about to pull the trigger when a force rams into him, and the gun goes off, missing its target. He lands on the dusty ground, the shock drawing the green out of his vision, and when he looks up– it’s fucking Dick again. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” Jason roars, holding himself together, but just barely, “you’re still defending him!?”Dick doesn’t answer, grabbing the crying Clock King and slamming a tranquilizer in his neck. “Fuck you!” Jason shouts, so angry he can’t breathe, “you fucking ruined it! Get out of my way!”“We need his information, Jay–” is all Dick can get out before Jason punches him. Dick barely staggers before he’s slamming into Jason’s chest, toppling them over. Jason growls, and loses himself in the punches and kicks– only caring about getting his anger out.Slowly, with each hit he takes and hits he delivers, he feels the green leach out of him, until he’s lying next to Dick, panting. “Damn,” Dick pants, open mouthed to compensate for his broken nose, “you really needed that.”“Fuck you,” he pants. It hurts to open his mouth, “what the fuck just happened?” He feels dizzy, weak, and it’s fucking horrible. “You don’t remember what happened?” Dick asks, and Jason would grit his teeth, if it didn’t send a jolt of pain through his system. “I remember what happened, just– fuck.”“Yeah,” Dick pants, “hey– sorry I was weird, last time we saw each other.”“Oh my god, fuck you.”“I was more concussed than initially assumed.”“Ugh,” Jason pants, letting his arm flop onto the floor, “give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill that bastard right now.”“I was gonna say,” Dick sits up, wincing as he does so. Jason hates Dick being above him, so he sits up, too, minding his broken fingers. He looks over at Dick, and is surprised to find that– he’s taller than him. He– he knew that he was– but– he hasn’t been side by side like this before. “You’re tall,” Dick says, and Jason hates that they were having the same thought. “What were you gonna say?” He spits out, cataloging his injuries to show Dick that he couldn’t care less what the answer is. “I was gonna say, he’s the only one who can supplement the research that we lost. Tim can only do so much on his own. If you kill him, we might never wake the kids up.”“I'd figure it out,” he growls. His ankle is definitely sprained. “Yeah, but it would take months– maybe years, but if we had the Clock King, it’ll probably only take weeks.”“He deserves to die,” he snaps, “he fucking– he was going to just leave them like that! Because he thought no one would care!”“Yeah, and that’s fucking shitty,” Dick says, and Jason pauses, “and whether or not he deserves to die or not is up for debate–”“It’s not–”“But the fact of the matter is, he’s a lot more useful to us alive. All the victims will benefit if he stays alive.”Fuck. Fuck him. Jason instinctively grits his teeth and flinches at the pain, “were you fucking following me?” He snaps. Dick doesn’t answer, “you fucking psychopath,” he would beat him up so more if everything didn’t hurt so bad, “what the fuck.”“Look, I’m sorry, I just–”“Just– what? Did you want more excuses to put me in Arkham? Did you want to see my fucking face?”“I– I don’t want to put you in Arkham!” “Could’ve fucking fooled me.”“I would never– Bruce would never. We wouldn’t put you anywhere near the Joker–”“Oh, great, I get Blackgate, lucky me. Maybe I'll run into my dad.”“I wouldn’t– urgh,” Dick rubs his face, accidentally hitting his nose and hissing.“You wouldn’t, what? Put me in jail?” Jason scoffs, “I know you want to, you’ve said so plenty of fucking times before–”“I don’t want to now,” Dick cuts him off.Jason flounders, “wh– what?”Dick twists his hands, sighing, “I– I think now, that– I think I understand you, now. And–” he looks up at Jason, “I think that you can be helped.”Understanding floods him, and Jason almost feels relieved. Dick is freshly reminded of the kid Jason was before he died, and, for now, he wants to try and bring that kid back. Finally, things make fucking sense, “aww, you feel bad for me,” he coos, “so you’ve decided to make me your little project.”Dick looks up at him in an almost long suffering way. Jason sneers, “let me save us some time. I'm not going to change. Nothing you can fucking do or say will change my goddamn mind, so just leave me the fuck alone.”“Jason,” Dick sighs, “I’m not doing this because I want to change you–”“Why else would you want to fucking help me!?”“Maybe I fucking love you!” “Bullshit! If you loved me, then you wouldn’t have ignored me for three goddamn years–!”“I’m sorry for that, okay? I just– do you have any idea how hard it is, to see your dead brother come back as a murderer?”“Do you have any idea how hard it is to get beaten to death?” Jason shoots back. Dick doesn’t seem to hear him, continuing on his own tirade, “I genuinely thought I was going fucking crazy, Jay, and– god, it just hurt to see you so much. You reminded me of everything I lost–”So do you, Jason thinks, but he can’t make himself say it. It’s too vulnerable, too sore, it’d– it’s too real.“And– when I was with you– little you, I just– I kept seeing you, Jay. As you are now, and I realized, you actually haven’t changed–”“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason shouts. He was taken apart and made anew, how fucking dare Dick say–“I was wrong to ignore you–”“I hate you–”“And I want to help–”“Fuck you!” Jason yells, and Dick finally, finally shuts up, “Do you really think you can just come crawling back and I’d be fucking okay with it? I’ve given you chances, but you’ve done nothing but fight me and hate my guts for the last three years, and now that you had a refresher on how cute and innocent I was, you want to make up? That’s not fucking happening.”Finally, he can see that familiar rage in Dick’s eyes, “given me– when the fuck have you given any of us chances?”“When I asked Bruce to kill the Joker. When I asked him to fucking avenge me. To show me that he fucking cared. But he didn’t," Jason spits out.“That had nothing to do with me!” Dick shouts.“You sure as fuck never tried though, huh? No, you were happy with your shiny new Robin.”“I wasn’t– I never stopped missing you–”“You never stopped missing him! Stop fucking pretending that this has anything to do with me!” “Jason!” Dick shouts, “you’re putting words in my mouth,” he growls, “I want to help you–” he seems to flounder for a moment; his eyes flickering around, “with– with your case. The kids.”Jason blushes, and the idea that he just fucking said all that from a misunderstanding makes him madder. “No.”“You need my help.”“Fuck. Off,” Jason growls, feeling increasingly cornered.“You want to help, don’t you? I have access to his research, and– and I have access to Tim–”“I can figure it out by myself.”“How? The Clock King will be in Arkham.”Jason clenches his teeth in rage, even past the pain, “fuck you!”“Look– we can work together! The more heads working on this case the better, right? I can help you get any information you need. I know you want to wake up the kids- your kids.”Jason bares his bloody teeth, “you don’t fucking know anything about me.”Dick crosses his arms, “so I’m wrong?”Jason glares at him, then curses, kicking one of the boxes. Fuck. Fuck. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that he really can’t do it without Dick’s help– without the Bat’s help. Fuck.There’s only one way out of this. Not working on this case– leaving it to the Bats and trusting they’ll remember two random homeless kids among the dozens of victims– no. They’re his kids. He can’t fucking abandon them, not like every other adult in their lives. Jason turns to Dick, glaring, “you’re only offering me this because you want to– I don’t know. Fucking fix me, or some shit. You want to see my goddamn face”“Kind of,” he shrugs, “I’d– I’d love to see your face,” Dick’s voice actually wobbles, “but– really, I just want to talk.”“About fucking what?” Jason snaps. “About– about what happened. I’ve spent all these years just– assuming that I knew who you are and why you do things, but– I don’t. So. I want to know your perspective.”“My perspective is that you’re a fucking asshole.”The fucking asshole laughs.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
One thousand, nine hundred and twenty days after.
In order for Jason to get the research he needs, he needs to break into the Batcave. Correction, they need to break into the Batcave. Jason could do it all by himself, he doesn’t need Dick, despite his daring little speech the last time they saw each other, but– ugh. Dick has all the passcodes, and he knows where everything is. What’ll take Jason hours will take them about half an hour. Dick insists on going on his own, but Jason isn’t stupid enough to let that happen. He needs all the information, not just whatever Dick deems suitable for Jason to see. He’s looking to get those kids awake, not be kept distracted like a toddler on the edge of a tantrum. So here he is, back in the cave. Every time he’s here he always swears he’ll never be back. “So what do you want specifically?” Dick asks, typing on the Batcomputer.“All of it,” Jason replies, looking around the cave. He keeps expecting Batman to jump out of the shadows, and he keeps his hand close to his gun. He’s not going to ignore the possibility that this is all a trick to get him in Arkham. “That’s a lot of information,” Dick says. “My drive can handle it,” Jason retorts. He made it himself, and he knows how much information it can hold. Instead of arguing, Dick just hums in acknowledgement, and gets to work. Good. He wanders over to the med bay table that Dick was kept on in his impromptu coma, and he catches sight of the rudimentary set up the replacement made while Dick was out. The screens are still active, still showing the gross timeline simulation. He doesn’t like to think that his entire universe is nothing but a fractal worm squirming amongst other fractal worms. He pauses. This computer probably has information the Batcomputer doesn’t. He looks back at Dick. He’d just wanted to download whatever information pertaining to the case was in the Batcomputer, but Jason will be behind the moment Bruce or Tim updates it. Probably a part of Dick’s plan to keep him distracted without actually being able to contribute. Asshole. Good thing he bought his USB stick, which contains the software that’ll allow him to spy on Timmy’s computer from his own. If the replacement uses this computer over the Batcomputer, then Jason will have access to way more information than Dick will provide.He plugs it in and casually wanders around, pretending like he isn’t doing anything wrong at all. Dick is too distracted to pay attention to his act, and it’s annoying that he’s not important enough for Dick to at least glance over at him a couple of times. He knocks over a random IV holder, making Dick jump. “Oops,” he says, stepping over it, and Dick gives him a confused smile, going back to work. Asshole. He wanders over to the side of the cave he hates. Where Bruce keeps all of his mistakes immortalized to angst over forever. Seeing his own memorial case always puts Jason in a bad mood, but hey, maybe he feels like being in a bad mood right now. He looks for it, and– he can’t find it. The space it used to be is completely empty, except for a broom leaning against the wall, implying that– there had been a mess to clean up.Jason had fantasied about destroying that fucking thing for so long. He doesn’t know how to feel about the idea that someone beat him to the punch. But who? And why?Something clangs behind him, and Jason jumps, spinning around with his gun pointed at– Dick. His asshole brother smiles, unfazed by the gun, “oops,” he gives him the drive and– the USB stick. Jason snaps his head up to Dick, who smiles, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his fucking mouth. “You got everything you want?”Jason scoffs, snatching the drive and the stick, “yeah. Bye.” he walks out of the cave, not looking back.
One thousand, nine hundred and twenty two days after.
The replacement is a little freak, Jason’s figuring out. His way of thinking and laying out information makes no goddamn sense. He’s half convinced that the kid knows he’s being spied on and is talking in code to keep the information safe; but that would only be possible if the kid just… constantly assumes that he’s being spied on. No, he’s just like this. So having access to the kid’s computer is more of a bust than he’d been expecting. Whatever. He has Bruce’s side of the whole thing, and thank god, that guy is way easier to understand than Tim. He also speaks in code, but it’s code that Jason was taught, that he understands. It’s almost… nostalgic, reading Bruce’s reports.He wishes he could’ve put in the spy software on the Batcomputer, but it’s undoubtedly miles more secure than Tim’s shitty set up. He’ll need to take what he can get. Taking what he can get also means meeting up with Dick every so often to accept the new reports Dick had taken the liberty of downloading and bringing to him. They’re on a random rooftop– Jason isn’t about to imply to Dick where he lives, he doesn’t want to give him access to anything even remotely personal.“Here it is,” Dick chirps, dropping the USB stick in Jason’s hand, “sorry, it’ll be a lot. Robin and Batman are both workaholics, and you can imagine what they’re like when they bounce off each other.”Jason doesn’t respond, turning the stick around in his fingers. Despite Tim's… weirdness, he’d been making good progress with the research. He already has some theories on how to wake up the kids, but without being able to understand most of the replacement’s rambles, it’s not as much as he would like. Jason has the persistent, irritating feeling that the kid is five steps ahead of him, because that would fucking figure. He’s a richer, more independant, and more obedient Robin than Jason ever was. It’d make sense that he’d be fucking smarter too. God, he’s so insufferable. He briefly imagines giving the replacement a head injury– one that would hopefully lead into memory issues from the brain damage, among other things. Then Bruce would throw him away just like he did Jason, and–Ugh, come on. He’s not fifteen anymore. It just fucking hurts to see how much better the replacement is than Jason ever was. Maybe Bruce is– glad that Jason died, if it meant that he got to have Tim as Robin, rather than Jason, who argued and disobeyed and cared too fucking much–“You okay?” Dick cuts through his racing thoughts, tilting his head. “Fuck off,” Jason snaps, and Dick holds up his hands. “Fine. you just look a bit– I dunno. Gloomy.”“Dour,” Jason replies with a better descriptor, “and– ugh,” he didn’t take his computer, or screenshots or anything, because why the fuck would he? But now he suddenly wishes he did, so he could ask Dick what the fuck Tim means when he writes, ‘pot weak in worms, punch them???’“You didn’t stop me from spying on Tim’s computer,” he says instead, “you knew I wouldn’t be able to understand a fucking word he said, didn’t you?” He crosses his arms. Dick smiles, “it’s not that hard once you get it. You’re a smart kid, Jay, you’ll figure it out.”“I’m not a kid,” Jason snaps, and Dick winces. “Sorry.”Jason glares. All Dick sees is the kid within him, not who he actually is. “Are we done?” He snaps, and Dick hesitates, but he can’t seem to think of anything to keep Jason here. “...Yeah.”“Cool. Bye,” he jumps off the building and swings away, not even looking to see if Dick follows. He doesn’t.
One thousand, nine hundred and twenty six days after.
Jason finally gives up and brings the computer to Dick, so that he can give him a fucking hint about what the kid is talking about. “I don’t think he’s using code,” Dick says, infuriatingly, “he’s not the best in the world at typing, and he thinks really fast, so he uses a lot of acronyms,” Dick points at the sentence that has been haunting Jason, ‘pot weak in worms, punch them???’ “I think he means that he’s found a potential weakness in some timelines, so we can metaphorically punch a hole to get to the victims.”“I hate this fucking kid,” Jason growls, and writes down worms = timeline, “I bet he’s doing this on purpose just to get back at me.”“I’ve seen his school reports. He’s not. Besides, as far as I know, he doesn’t know that you’re spying on the research.”Jason pauses, “you didn’t tell him?”Dick blinks, “why would I? He definitely wouldn’t let me, for one. He’d probably tattle on me, for two.”Jason blinks. He’d– he’d been sure that Dick was doing this with the approval of the bats. But– he’s not? Is he that fucking dedicated to helping Jason?“Wow, golden boy going behind daddy’s back,” Jason scoffs, trying to hide how anxious he feels, “naughty.”“I never understood why you called me that,” Dick hums, “you saw me and Bruce fight all the time. Even when I was Robin, I wasn't exactly up to Bruce’s standards.”“Are you kidding me?” Jason scoffs, “B compared me to you all the time. I couldn’t fucking get out of your shadow.”“Oh,” Dick hums, “well. Sorry.”Jason sighs, “you apologise too fucking much,” it’s all he’s been hearing, and it doesn’t soothe the hurt as much as he wants it to. “soz,” Dick drawls sarcastically, the way Alfred does when he’s had entirely too much. Jason is surprised into laughing, and he abruptly realises that things have gotten way too fucking casual. He clears his throat, and points at the next part, “so what the fuck did pointdexter mean by this?”“Oh, he meant–” Jason sighs in relief as Dick explains. Back to professionalism. Good. Just how he likes it.
One thousand, nine hundred and twenty nine days after.
Dick insists on going with him to Arkham. Jason should’ve said no. Should’ve called it out for the obvious trap that it is– he’s not stupid.But the Joker is in there, and Jason can’t– he can’t–He can’t be alone. So Dick comes with. Arkham Asylum is a joke to break into– not a joke. It’s just fucking easy. He guesses they’re more concerned with keeping people in than out. It would take about ten minutes to get to the Clock King’s cell, but they would have to go by the Joker’s cell. They take the thirty minute route instead. Jason just focuses on his breathing, trying to keep it together. The laughing he hears is in his head– it’s not real, so it can’t hurt him. What if there’s a breakout right now? The part of him that never left the warehouse thinks, what if the Joker escapes and he runs into him, and he kidnaps Jason and tortures them forever and ever–That wouldn’t happen, because Jason is big now, and he has a gun. He’s made sure that no one can hurt him. Especially not the fucking Joker. He doesn’t have to be feeling this pain, he reminds himself. If Bruce had just done what he asked– proved that he loved Jason– then he would have never had to feel like this again. “I wish that fucker was dead,” Jason snaps, just to quell some of his nervous tension. “Me too,” Dick says, a little bit breathy– why? Jason looks over at him, and sees that Dick isn’t doing so hot, either. Why the hell is he freaking out? It wasn’t like the Joker murdered him.“Then maybe you should have killed him,” he mutters bitterly, not wanting to ask if Dick can hear the Joker’s laughter too. “I did.” Jason snaps his head over to see Dick smiling bitterly, “no, you fucking didn’t.”“I did. The Joker made out like he killed Tim. I… kinda lost it,” Dick lets out a big sigh, "Bruce brought him back.”Jason gapes, stunned for a short moment. Every time he thinks he can’t be disappointed by Bruce again, he’s surprised once more, “of course. Of fucking course.”He expects Dick to come to Bruce's defense, to say something that’s supposed to make it all better. Instead, Dick just sighs, “yeah.”They keep walking. Finally, they make it to the Clock King’s cell without any incident. It’s way too easy to pick the lock. Whoever’s in charge of this place must be pocketing Bruce’s money. “Hey, coward,” he growls, making the Clock King jump. He can’t stand up, thanks to his casts and bandages.“How did you– you can’t be here!”“Relax, William,” Dick ducks out from behind Jason, “we aren’t going to hurt you. Hood just wants to ask a few questions.”“Hood did this to me!” Clock King– William, he supposes, shouts. He does look pretty fucked up. Jason huffs out a laugh. William growls, “he doesn’t even feel bad.”“Why the fuck would I feel bad? I didn’t even do half of what you did to these kids,” he doesn’t move to grab his gun or his crowbar, doesn’t even step forward, but the man winces back at the venom in Jason’s voice anyway. “Hood,” Dick says, and somehow manages not to sound chiding, “he’s not going to hurt you, he just wants to ask a few questions. Answer honestly, and we’ll be on our way.”“I’ll answer honestly,” William growls, “but if I don't know something, then I don't. Know.” “Whatever,” Jason sneers under his hood. He fucking hates this guy. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a pink piece of paper, with fairies and flowers printed on it. Dick and William blink at him. They don’t know what’s written on it.“Why did you choose them?” he asks. William blinks, “wha– what?”“Why did you choose these kids? What about them specifically made you think, ‘huh, they’re the perfect types for my fucked up experiments’. Or do you not know?”William flounders, glancing frantically at Dick. To his surprise, Dick backs him up, crossing his arms and giving William a look that makes it clear he isn’t wriggling out of this one. He takes a shaky breath before finally answering, “I– they were just the first kids I came across. They weren’t– special.”Jason scoffs, “next question. Why were you so mean?”“Hood–” Dick puts his hand on Jason’s arm, and he wrenches it away. “Fuck off, this is my interview, William. Why were you so goddamn mean to these kids?”“I- I treated them humanely–”“Yeah, locking them up in a cage and feeding them the bare minimum of food and water they need to survive is fucking humane. So is shoving their unconscious friends back in the same fucking cage. What if they fucking suffocated? Here’s a question, what’s up with all the fucking bruises, huh?”William sits there, agape. Jason keeps expecting Dick to pull him away, to make him shut up, but he doesn’t. He stays where he is, his arms crossed, “he asked you a question, William.”“I–” William stutters, and Jason sees the guilt. The guilt that men like him only ever experience when they’re caught, “I– I just got a little angry, sue me. And– it wasn’t like I seriously hurt them–”“Okay,” Dick pushes Jason back when green leaks into his eyes, “we’re leaving now. You’re a bastard, Clock King.”Jason breathes in deeply, staring at the pink paper. With the green in his vision, it looks gray. He lets himself be pushed back, and by the time he’s out, the paper is pink again, “your moniker is fucking dumb too!” he snaps, just as Dick closes the door. They stare at each other for a little bit, then Dick snorts. Jason turns away, refusing to laugh, too. He pushes back the smile he can feel forcing its way on his mouth, even though Dick can’t even see it. Dick follows him, “I’m so glad I’m not the only one who thinks his name is fucking stupid.”“Everyone in Gotham thinks that. Even the Rogues.”“Oh, I'm sure they have very high standards,” Jason doesn’t answer, and they walk in silence, going out the same way they came in. The few guards that notice them give them a nod. Jason’s in kind of a gray area, but they assume anyone with a vigilante isn’t someone to be concerned about. Fucking useless wastes of money. When they’re out, and Jason is about to leave, Dick finally pipes up again, “I gotta say, I wasn't expecting those to be your questions.”Jason clenches his teeth, “they weren’t,” Dick doesn’t say anything else as Jason jumps off the building, heading back to Crime Alley. He’s got some kids to give answers to.
One thousand, nine hundred and thirty days after.
Jason understands enough of Tim’s weird way of note taking that he doesn’t need Dick anymore. He has all the information he needs, and strong enough of a hypothesis that he’s starting to feel more confident in trying it out. He’ll need to go into the cave and steal the remote that Tim has also been centering his theories around, and without Dick, that’ll be a touch harder. But not impossible. There’s nothing that Jason can’t do. But– he’s still meeting up with Dick tonight. Because he still needs the Batcomputer’s data– well, maybe he doesn’t need need it, but– whatever, more information is always good. There might be something in the Batcomputer that will change how he sees everything– though that hasn’t been the case yet. Whatever. Dick drops in nearly an hour late for their meeting, holding something that smells good– too good. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he looks down at the plastic bag full of warm, delicious smelling food in tupperware boxes. Dick gives him an innocent smile, “I get hungry on patrols.”“And this totally isn’t a ploy to trick me into taking my helmet off,” he rolls his eyes. Dick couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. “No, actually,” Dick lies, spinning around to sit next to him, “I helped out this guy on the way here, and he took me to his apartment to give me his food. I can’t not eat it.”Jason huffs, “so this is entirely unplanned.”“Yep,” Dick hums, but there’s still the undercurrent of hope in his expression. Even if this is unplanned, he’s still hoping for Jason to give in. Jason almost wishes that Dick can see his glare, “you know, people also give me stuff to eat. I barely even have to cook, nowadays.”Dick not so subtly deflates, but he recovers, opening up the tupperware. It does smell good, damn. “You seem to bring out people’s urge to feed you. When– when I patrolled with you, we kept getting food from the people we helped. There was so much I didn't manage to eat it in time.”Jason frowns, “I don't remember that.”“Oh. um. It didn’t happen to you.”“Oh,” Jason growls. He hates thinking about Dick’s time travel– hates thinking about everything it implies.Because it doesn’t imply anything. That shit has nothing to do with him. Dick continues, “Um– you stopped me from sending this guy to jail– Juan, and his mom gave us some tamales. we helped this convenience store owner, and she made us some amazing chicken tikka masala”“Why are you telling me this?” He doesn’t want to hear about the great times Dick and that Jason got to experience that he never will– he doesn’t care.“I was just–” Dick shrugs, fiddling with the tupperware, “I don’t know how much me being there actually changed things, you know? Since– I wasn't there the first time.”“Yeah, I know you weren’t fucking there,” Jason snaps, and he turns away, crossing his arms. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. There’s a beat of silence, “you're…. mad at me.”Fucking duh. Did the shouting and punching not clue Dick in?“I’m– I’m sorry, Jay,” Jason grits his teeth. Not another fucking apology.“Stop fucking apologising!” He snaps, “it doesn’t do anything.”Dick blinks, “then what do you want me to do?”“I don’t know. Just shut up. Leave me alone. Stop fucking ignoring me,” he blabs, half aware that he’s contradicting himself. Everything he wants swirls inside of him, and nothing can make his anger go away. Killing only quells it for a little bit, and– nothing his family can do will make his anger go away. Except for killing the Joker. That will fix everything. There’s a very long silence, and then–“What… What happened after you died? How did you…” Dick doesn’t continue, but Jason knows what he was about to say. How did you become like this?“Fuck you,” he growls. “We’ve kinda put the pieces together,” Dick continues, speaking softly, “we… we think that it had something to do with the League of Assassins–” Jason flinches at the name, “and– the lazarus pit.”Jason grits his teeth. It’s taking everything in him not to throw Dick off the side of the building right now. “But– we can’t figure out– how you came to life. You were dead. We know you were–”“You think I fucking know?” Jason snaps. Dick blinks. “...I thought you might have an idea.”“Why the fuck do you even care?”“I– how couldn’t I care? You changed so much, Jay, I just want to know–”“Oh, boo hoo, your little brother changed, that must have fucking sucked for you,” he spits out, “that just makes waking up in my coffin fucking nothing in comparison to what you went through!”Dick’s eyes widen, “you woke up in your–”Jason can’t stop, so mad he’s shaking, “that just makes being thrown in the lazarus pit a fucking breeze in comparison! Why the fuck did I get so mad about Bruce fucking replacing me, choosing the Joker over me, when I should’ve been thinking about poor old Dickie losing his widdle brother–” his voice chokes with tears, and he curses, turning away. He raises his hand to wipe away the tears, but his hood gets in the way. For a moment, he desperately wants it off–But then he feels Dick place a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, jerking his shoulder and moving a few steps away. There’s a long beat of silence. “I– fuck, Jay, I had no idea.”Jason tenses, his fingers digging into his arms. “I’m sorry for bringing it up, okay? But– I understand, why– why you changed the way you did. I don’t agree, but– fuck, I understand.”No one has ever understood Jason before.“Why couldn’t you be like this when I came back,” he cries, feeling like a child, “why couldn’t you be like this when I was Robin? Why did it take f-fucking time travelling to– to–”“I’m sorry,” Dick murmurs, “I don't know, I'm sorry.”“I hate you,” he growls.“Me too,” Dick chuckles wetly, “but I also love you. And you do, too.”Jason growls, and leaves.
One thousand, nine hundred and forty days after.
“Hood,” Dick gasps, out of breath. There it is, Jason thinks, and looks back at Dick, from where he’s panting, on the other side of the rooftop. He looks bad. His lips are pale, and his hands are bruised and shaken. He’s glad for the mask covering up Dick’s eyes. He doesn’t want to see what’s in them– see the hatred that’s undoubtedly there. “What do you want?”“You– you killed five men.”“Yep,” a vie for his power. They wanted to get rid of Jason, to steal Crime Alley out from under him. “You– you stuck their heads on a stake.”“I read it in a history book,” he needed to show everyone what fucking happens if they try to take his power from him. He put it on the east side of the bowery, where most of the business side of Jason’s organization takes place. Thanks to his influence, there are few kids there anymore. Judging by how quiet things have been, Jason’s message has been received and understood, “it was only for a day, anyway,” he shrugs, “the smell was bad.”Dick doesn’t say anything, looking at Jason with wide eyes. Jason feels a sick mix of anxiety and vindication. He’s finally done it. He’s proved to Dick that he’s not worth it– that he can’t be saved. That Dick is nothing but a liar. “You understand me, huh,” Jason sneers.“Did– did you only kill them to prove a point?” Jason scoffs, “no. They wanted to kill me. Fuck, they’d have probably done the same to me if they had won.”Dick remains silent. He sighs, his heart twisting. He wants to reach into his chest and untwist it, make it stop pounding and aching, “I'll see you around, Nightwing.”
One thousand, nine hundred and forty five days after.
Jason likes patrolling. He likes how tangible it feels, actually going out into the streets and doing good. It almost makes him feel the same way as it did when he was Robin. Almost. It’s been boring, recently. Ever since the attempted coup, everyone’s been lying low. It’ll go back to normal eventually, and in the meantime, he tries to enjoy the peace; just taking the time to check in on his favorite people. That is, until he catches blue out of the corner of his eye.“What the fuck are you doing here?” He snaps, as Dick hops onto the roof he’s standing on, “you gonna try and take me in?” He steps back, putting his hand on his gun.Dick stops, a good few arm lengths away, “...no. I'm not.”Jason scoffs, “right.”“Yeah, I could just be lying right now,” Dick huffs, “Batman… he wants to take you in. Not a prison, a mental hospital. One of the verified ones, out of Gotham. He wants you to be better.”“Yeah, well. You can tell him what you figured out.”Dick tilts his head, looking unhappy, “and what did I figure out?”Jason falters, “that– that I won’t change. That kid you loved is dead. He turned into a monster.”To Jason’s horror, a smile pulls at Dick’s lips, “you’re so fucking dramatic.”Jason grits his teeth, “maybe. I’m right, though.”“Yeah, you’re a murderer. That’s pretty much undeniable. I should take you in,” Dick lets out a big sigh, “but– you might be different, but you’re still my brother. And I miss hanging out.”Jason blinks. He can’t actually be–“I killed five men.”“I’m aware.”“I killed plenty more than that. I’m not going to stop.”“It would surprise me if you did,” Dick sighs. Jason stares at Dick for a long second, “what the fuck is your deal?”Dick puts his hands on his hips, “I just told you what it was. I want to hang out again, because I fucking miss you.”“I’m not that kid–”“I know!” Dick throws up his hands, “you don’t need to keep saying it,” he huffs, crossing his arms, “and– you’re not actually as different as you think you are,” he mutters, quiet enough that Jason almost couldn’t hear it. “And what the fuck do you mean by that?”Dick looks at Jason with a determined expression, “I mean you’re not as different as you think you are. I– I thought you were, but– when I was in 2015, I kept seeing you in– in all the things he would do and think. He also believed that some people just deserve to die. That Bruce was wrong. He killed a man. Garzonas.”The name makes Jason flinch, and he hates that Dick knows about it– about him. Dick looks up at him with sharp eyes, “did that happen to you?”Jason clenches his teeth, “no. I didn't kill him.”Dick blinks, “wh– really?”Jason sneers, “yeah, a huge fuckin’ surprise, isn’t it? I– I just–” He grits his teeth, “I spooked him. I fucking wish I got to kill him– he didn’t even know why he deserved to die. He just fucking– fell.”“Huh,” Dick looks down at the ground,with an expression that Jason can’t place. The last thing he wants to think about is 2015, but the curiosity is so strong he can’t keep the question inside of him.“Did– did I kill him? In that time?”Dick swallows, “I… I don't know. I thought you did. But… you never actually confirmed or denied it.”Jason takes in a shaky breath, “I probably did it, then. When I was accused, I was screaming my innocence. Nobody fucking believed me.”“I’m sorry,” Dick says, “I tried to support you– I- I realized that I really didn’t care whether or not you killed him. You were still my brother,” Dick looks up at him, “and– that’s still true.”Jason grits his teeth, “a paragon of virtue, you are.”“I never said I was a good person. I…” Dick takes a deep breath, “I think… if I’ve learnt anything about myself, when I was in 2015, it’s that I’m really fucking selfish,” he lets out a self deprecating laugh, “I just want my family. I don’t care what I need to do or– ignore.”“Ignore,” Jason huffs, “you’re really good at that.”“I’ve practiced on you for three whole years, haven't I?”Jason hates that it makes him laugh.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
One thousand, nine hundred and forty eight days after.
Jason wakes up slowly, as he usually does. Vigilante work really takes it out of him, so he deserves all the rest he can get. It’s usually three PM by the time he wakes up. He sits up and stretches, smiling a little at the sight of his room. He’s recently done a mass redecorating, since he found a nearby thrift shop and splurged on all sorts of stupid decorations. He never really understood the point, when he first got this apartment– too focused on making Bruce avenge him to care about whether his walls look nice, but now– well, it’s one less shitty thing in his life he has to deal with. Dusting is kind of a bitch, though. He gets up to have brunch, pulling out the carbonara that one of the local sex workers made for him. Apparently, it’s her kid’s favorite meal. One bite in, and he can see why. He wanders into his living room. Along with the thrift store splurge, he also got a bunch of new posters and books– and a new bookshelf to hold it all. He’s excited to read the new books when he has the time– as well as organizing all the books he’d slowly accumulated with no place to put them. He’d been putting them up in piles, like Mom did, but he’s excited to finally organize things and get everything looking neater. If nothing needs his attention today, he thinks he’ll do just that. He sits on his nice, soft couch, and turns on the news. He freezes.The 40 victims of the Clock King have been woken up. He stares at the tv numbly, before diving to for his laptop, frantically booting it up, because– the kid was nowhere near figuring it out, but the news is saying that Robin solved it– they’re giving him a fucking ceremonial ticket live on tv so what the fuck–The laptop boots up, and there’s only one thing on the screen.
Try to be a little more subtle about your spying next time, asshole.
🖕
Jason stares numbly, until the screen suddenly goes black. Feeling a step behind himself, he realizes that it’s because he’d been crushing the screen in between his fingers. Fuck. He drops it and presses the heel of his shaking hands into his eyes, and it hurts, and it doesn’t work to keep the green from leaching into his vision. He feels like he’s crushing to death under the weight of the pit, and he groans. It’s been ages since he’s felt it this bad– not even Dick has made it this bad– fuck. He grabs the laptop, and throws it against the wall with a scream, and that’s the last thing he remembers. When he wakes up, he’s– he’s still in his flat. The sun is lower, shining high on his walls. Everything is destroyed. Everything, everything that he worked so hard to get when he came here by himself. It’s all destroyed. His tv, his furniture, his bookshelf. There’s papers strewn across the floor, and he realizes with a sinking feeling that he had torn up some of his books. His chin wobbles, and sobs force their way out before Jason even has a chance to hold them back. He’s such a fucking idiot, he didn’t notice Tim was spying on him– and he fucking let himself get this mad about it. Jason hates that the replacement brings out such anger in him– he doesn’t want that little brat to have any hold over him, but he just can’t fucking help the way his blood pressure rises every time he thinks about him– God, he’s being such a fucking child. It’s– the kids are awake now. Job done. He should be happy and go back to putting his full focus on his mission, and– and now he never has to look at Tim’s stupid acronyms again– never has to see Dick again– everything can go back to normalFuck– why does that thought make him feel so much worse? He slides down a wall, covering his face as sobs burst out of him, but as hard as he tries, he can’t force them back in. Why the fuck does he care so much? This is good.Fuck, he doesn’t want Dick to leave, does he? It’s– the last few weeks have been the best they have in years. He’s fucking missed his brother, missed being small and believing in him, believing that he was loved. Fuck– fuck that stupid little brat for taking that away from him– for solving it before Jason could, for making Dick love him more than he loves Jason, for making the Clock King send Dick back to 2015 somehow– everything is his fault–Now Dick’s gonna drift away– get put off by his methods and start treating him like he’s the enemy again. Can he even fucking deal with that? It’s not goddamn fair, why does Tim get to have the big brother that Jason always wanted? Why– why did his younger self in another fucking timeline get to have the big brother Jason always wanted? Why do people only love Jason when he’s exactly like how they want? It’s not fair. But– fuck, why is he even crying about this? Life isn’t fair. That’s the one thing he knows more intimately than anyone else. His phone buzzes, shocking him out of crying for a moment, and he growls, looking for where the fuck it is underneath all the rubble. He was quite happy being miserable curled up on the floor, so who the fuck is distracting him from that? He lets out a frustrated groan when he sees Dick’s ID on his phone. How the fuck did Dick even get his number?He wipes his blurry eyes and blindly hangs up.Instead of ending, the call is accepted, and Dick’s voice fills the room, “hey, Jay, I’m sorry for calling your civilian phone, but I just wanted to check in on you. I mean, assuming you’ve seen the news. I really hope you’ve seen the news–” Dick pauses, and Jason tries to be quiet, but his lungs and throat have a mind of their own, forcing sobs out of him. God, he sounds so pathetic, “...are you okay?” Dick’s voice, so soft, makes him cry harder. “Fuck off,” he sobs, his voice so wet it couldn’t be more obvious that he’s crying, “why didn’t you tell me that Tim knew I was spying on him?”“I– I didn't. Tim never mentioned anything like that to me– I really thought he didn’t know–” Dick sighs, “he’d been feeding you misinformation, hadn’t he?”“And he– he fucking woke them up, Dick! That was my job!”“Hey, as long as they’re awake–”“Fuck you!” He shouts, and starts crying again. God, he needs to hang up. He has to hang up. He hates how fucking emotional he is. “...Hey, I get it, I really do. It’s– shitty that Tim didn’t let you help, but you can still make sure that they get into good homes and all– or back to their families, if they have any. They’re still your responsibility, and Tim didn’t take that away, okay?” It’s infuriating how Dick’s low tones and logic is actually helping Jason calm down. When was the last time someone talked to him like this? Had calmed him down by soothing him rather than punching him?He wants to get angry, to insist he’s not a child. Instead, he sniffles and pulls the phone closer, “we’re not gonna see each other anymore,” he wetly mumbles. “Of course we are! Come on, I thought it was obvious that the whole ‘researching together’ thing was just an excuse.”“What’s your excuse now?” He bitterly mumbles. “Hm. I dunno. Isn’t it your turn to make an excuse?”I never agreed to that, is what Jason wants to say, but instead he sniffles, and looks around his living room, “I– I destroyed my apartment.”“Oh yeah?” Dick doesn’t sound disappointed or put off, just interested in what Jason has to say next. It’s singlehandedly what draws the words out of him. “Y-yeah, I really,” he sniffles, tearing up again just thinking about all the damage he did to his favourite things, “I really fucked it up. Everything that I got– my new bookshelf– it’s all ruined. I tore apart my favorite books.”“I’m sorry,” Dick says sympathetically, in a tone that reminds him of his mom, when she had stolen his halloween candy, or had told him a story that was a little too scary. She had always managed to sound so sincere. Jason thinks that she really had been. He closes his eyes, “can you– can you help me fix it?”“Of course,” he can hear the smile in Dick’s voice. When Dick sat down, the day he came back from saving Jason, he expected to feel happy. He saved Jason, after all, something that he’d been spending years dreaming of. The chance to rewind time and fix everything. He had just felt numb. Because– he couldn’t stay there. Dick’s younger self had his own life that he deserved to live, and Dick’s family deserved to have their Dick, even if he was harder to get along with. That was something he’d never accounted for in his daydreams. All that effort, and he didn’t get to enjoy any of it. He wouldn’t get to see Jason grow up– see the awkward late teens Dick had to suffer through himself. He wouldn’t get to see Jason decide on what major to do, wouldn’t get to see the baby fat slowly sink into his face– wouldn’t get to see all the awkward in-betweens of Jason’s incredible growth spurt that Dick had completely missed. All he could do was hope that his younger self would appreciate everything he’s done for him. He gave him a second chance, and now he won’t have to carry the same guilt he does every day. His younger self might actually start to develop his and Jason’s relationship, grow closer with him, become brothers. Real brothers. The kind that didn’t aim guns at each other. While Dick is stuck with what he got. He hadn’t been dreaming of actually getting sent back in time. He’d been dreaming for Jason’s death to have never happened, dreaming for a second chance that came with no caveats, no strings attached. Dick is ashamed that he’d been so picky. Because he’d gotten a second chance, three years ago. His little brother had come back from the dead, and instead of trying to get him back, he’d pushed him away. All he saw was his own pain and failures being spit right back at his face, and it simply hurt far too much to bear. Dick had been tempted to think that– it was too late. To stop trying, to accept that he’s had his last moments with Jason, but–Jason tried to warn him of the Clock King. Jason carried him back to the cave, stayed in the cave until he knew that Dick was okay. In his concussed mind, that was enough for him to take it as a second chance. He just had to reach for it. He didn't know what he was expecting, when he showed up on the roof, begging for Jason to show his face. Honestly, it should have ruined everything. It almost did. But then he followed Jason to the Clock King, and somehow, he managed to work out a bargain– an excuse. He just– he wanted to get to know this Jason. Give him a chance, and see how different he was to how Dick assumed– see how similar he is to how Dick remembers. The process of getting Jason to trust him is achingly similar to getting younger Jason to trust him, gently peeling down his shields bit by bit, until Jason barely even notices that they’re down. And– he did it. Jason answered his call, and– Jason asked him to come over. In– in his real voice. Dick almost started crying at the sound of it. It was deeper than he expected– more gravelly, like he smokes, and his alley accent is stronger than he’d ever heard it– but it still has an edge that’s unmistakably Jason.Just hearing his voice made it all worth it, for Dick. It’s painful sometimes– being around him. Sometimes he’s so different that Dick can’t even justify to himself why he’s even trying anymore– that maybe his brother really is gone, that maybe it was all for nothing–But then Jason makes a dumb joke, makes the same reference that he would have made as a kid and Dick can’t see how he could be anyone but Jason. Jason’s a lot older, now, but Dick’s realized that in many ways, he still hasn’t grown up. He can’t really blame him. Dick– Dick had been risking a lot, pushing at Jason to the point that he told him what happened after his death, but it recontextualised a lot of things for Dick. Add that with his knowledge of Jason’s past assaults, and– yeah. He can see why Jason does the things he does. Not that it justifies anything he does, but– Dick wasn’t lying when he said that he’s selfish. He’ll ignore all these people dying, for Jason. He’ll– he’ll ignore Tim’s hurt for Jason. He’s pretty sure Tim doesn’t know, but– he thought that Tim wasn’t aware that he was being spied on. Tim knows a lot more than Dick tends to assume. He has a strong feeling that Tim knew how Jason came back before any of them did– just from seeing Jason without a mask– from seeing his glowing green eyes. Dick’s definitely not jealous that Tim got to see Jason’s face– that would be immature of him. He doesn’t know why this has become a point of fixation for him. There’s a strong part that believes that something– whether it be between him and Jason, or inside of himself– will be fixed by seeing Jason's face. That’s ridiculous– he knows it's ridiculous. It won’t fix anything– fuck, it might even make it worse. He still thinks about it a lot– about how Jason’s face would’ve changed, throughout the years. How much of him is different? How much of him is the same?Maybe that’s why he wants to see Jason’s face. His body has changed so much when Dick wasn’t looking. He was a little squirt, short enough for Dick to rest his arm on, and now– well, they’d never stood side by side, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jason was just a little bit bigger and taller than Bruce. Fuck, isn’t that a thought. He doesn’t know if Bruce knows about his whole… deal with Jason. He probably does, but he hasn’t said a single word about it to Dick. Maybe he’s hoping that Dick will fix the whole thing for him– that Dick will bring him home. Well, he isn’t. He’s hurting Tim enough just by seeing him. He’s only interested in fixing his own relationship, Bruce and Jason’s relationship is between Bruce and Jason. He’s tired of cleaning up his father’s messes. He doesn’t want to risk sabotaging his second chance by bringing their adoptive father up. Jason is so jumpy, especially around the topic of Bruce. Dick has pushed him too hard several times– he needs to be careful. Especially today. This is– this is important, Jason inviting him to his apartment, willingly, with barely even an excuse. He can’t mess this up. He ends up in the middle of Crime Alley, looking up at one of the less dilapidated buildings. There’s a ringer, but it’s long been vandalized and destroyed. That’s fine, Jay told him his apartment number. He has a strong feeling that Jason doesn’t want to be leaving his apartment today anyway. Jason lives on the highest floor, and the elevator is broken. Free training, Dick supposes. He gets in his cardio for the day, and ends up in front of Jason’s door, panting slightly. It doesn’t have a crack in it. Of course it doesn’t. It’s a completely different door. It looks similar to the one in the manor, opulent, though dilapidated. It’s a relic of when the rich used to live in Crime Alley, nearly a generation ago. It’s amazing how fast things deteriorate, when no one cares for them. He raises his hand to knock, and hesitates. Why is he hesitating?It just feels– the pressure is too much. There’s been so much pressure on him– basically his whole life but especially in the last few months, ever since he took on the responsibility of saving Jason’s life. These past few months, in his own time, it feels like he’s saving Jason all over again– from what, he’s not sure. Himself? A life of crime? The numerous people who want to kill Jason?He doesn’t know. He just– he wants to be with Jason. So he needs to knock on the door. He needs to try.He knocks, and waits. It’s silent for a long, agonizing moment, then–“Come in,” Jason’s voice, wet and far away, can barely be heard. He tries to open the door, but it’s locked. He huffs out a little laugh. Good thing he brought his lock picking stuff. As a Wayne, he’s constantly prepared for kidnapping attempts. Jason has several locks, and they’re all pretty good. It takes him about ten minutes to get them all unpicked. Once he’s done, he tries to open the door, but he’s stopped by the door chain. He manages to undo it with some string, and finally he enters.…Fuck. Jay wasn’t kidding when he said he destroyed the place. Dick didn’t realize it was possible to break a couch in half. Jay never had outbursts like this before– is it a part of the pit? Anger outbursts are one symptom, he remembers from his skim of the lazarus pit reports. He’ll need to read it more in depth later. It takes him a moment to spot Jay amongst all the rubble, in a corner, curled up in a ball. His head looks strange, and it takes a moment for Dick to realize why– he’s not wearing his helmet. His heart starts to pound, and he swallows as he looks at Jason’s hair. He’s– he’s cut it shorter, but he can still see the curls in his fringe, where it’s pressed up against his arm. “Hey,” he says as softly as he can, though a wobble betrays his real feelings, “you good?”Jason scoffs, and he laughs, “yeah, dumb question,” he steps over the rubble and sits down by Jason’s side. He doesn’t say anything. He really can’t think of anything to say. He finds himself staring at Jason’s hair, staring at the curls, at the shock of white. Is that bleached? Something that happened from all the supernatural shit Jason's been through? Or is it something that would’ve happened if Jason had never died? Poliosis, maybe?After what must have been minutes, Jason finally sniffles, “I– fuck, I worked so hard for all this shit.”“Yeah?” He looks around. He can see band posters half torn off the wall.“I fff-fucking– I didn’t have money when I first came here– it took me forever to get it to how I liked a-and I just–”“You have money now,” Dick soothes, “and you have me. We can get back to how it was. Or we can get it looking completely different, if you like.”Jason sniffles, and finally lifts his head up from his knees. Dick’s breath stutters at the sight. He shouldn’t react. He needs to stay calm, but– It’s his face.It’s his face. He’s supposed to say something comforting, something that will make it all better for Jason, but the moment he sees Jason's face– he sees the scars– the scars that he must have gotten from the beating– from the explosion. He recognises most of them from the autopsy report. His nose is bent out of shape. A section of his hair is white, his eyes are green, but– Underneath all that, it’s still Jason. A little longer, a little less round, but it’s still him. Despite everything, it’s still him.He’s so focused on Jason's face that he fails to read his expression. He only notices Jason’s apprehension a moment too late to stop it. Jason is leaning back ever so slightly, looking at Dick like– like he’s going to reject him. He lifts a shaking hand, hardly daring to take his eyes off Jason, and he gently presses it against his cheek, rubbing his thumb over his scars– over the curve of his cheekbone that’s so similar and so different.Jason, somehow, allows this, watching Dick with wide eyes. Dick can’t help the wet laugh, “there you are,” he lifts another hand to cradle Jason’s face, “there you are.”Jason’s face slowly crumples, and tears roll down his splotchy cheeks. Dick pulls him close, and Jason leans into him like he’s drowning, grabbing fistfuls of Dick’s t-shirt. He makes a strangled noise, and Dick makes one himself, holding Jason as tightly as he can. They sit like that for a long time, holding each other in the rubble of Jason’s anger. Even when they finally stop crying, Dick doesn’t pull away. He wants to stay like this forever, with Jason twisted so that his head fits under Dick’s, like he’s still small.But eventually, the moment catches up to them, and Dick needs to say something. “Does this happen a lot?” he croaks, nodding at all the rubble.Jason winces, “it’s– it’s been better, recently.”Dick hums, “I'm sorry I wasn't there to help.”Jason huffs, “well. You’re here now, aren’t you?”“Yeah,” Dick sniffles, pulling away so he can look at Jason. he can’t help but lift a hand to hold Jason's face, and Jason leans into it, ever so slightly. “Let's get this place cleared up, huh? You need a fresh start.”Jason takes a deep and shaky breath, “yeah, we do.”