Chapter 2

Crimson Tincture

This chapter is rated M for extreme unhappiness! And violence and just plain old bad times. I warned you.

His communicator buzzed. Again. Honestly, why did he even keep the thing? He never used it unless Dick buzzed it enough to annoy him. Like now. "What do you want Nightwing?"

"Just a friendly reminder for our breakfast next week!" His voice was bright, cheerful. Too cheerful, especially this early. Well, technically it was late, but Jason had just woken up a half hour ago.

He snorted. "Like I could forget. You've given me two dozen 'friendly reminders' in the past four days. I'm going to start ignoring all your calls if you keep it up." Or start leaving his comm. at home. One of the two.

Dick just laughed. "Whatever you say. I'll leave you alone. But seriously, don't forget."

"Yeah yeah, circle the date. Even if I do forget, you're just going to show up on my doorstep at some ungodly hour with a basin of pancake batter."

"And fruit! Lots of fruit!"

"Not before 10! Some people enjoy sleep after a long patrol."

He laughed in a way that said "I'm totally knocking on your door at 9:55 just to annoy you", then signed off. Jason just shook his head and jumped off the roof he was perched on. The warehouse district wouldn't clear itself of crooks by itself, would it?

An hour later, he decided to take a breather on a deserted stretch of rooftop. Four different gangs had had their drugs stored here and there were four new places for the Gotham Fire Department to hose down. Not bad for an hour's work. And only one injury. Some thug had gotten lucky, and popped a round into his leg. The bleeding had already stopped. Still, he should get home and stitch it before it reopened and he bled out. But for right now, he was going to sit here, pull his helmet off and breathe some unfiltered air.

After all, Dick wouldn't be happy if he missed their breakfast. And neither would Jason actually. But he would never admit it and if anyone dared to claim that he was looking forward to the day, he would tear out their tongue and use it as a coin purse.

Not even kidding.

Then again, tongues made terrible coin purses. Not a lot of space.

Breakfast with his brother. Not something he'd thought would ever happen again. But his relationship with the rest of the Bats was improving by leaps and bounds.

There was a hiss below him and a gunshot from behind. The bullet missed, knocking into his helmet and sending it flying off the building. Jason stood, whirling, just as a second shot hit him in the chest. It didn't make it past the Kevlar, but the force of it broke three of his ribs. And sent him careening off the building.

It wasn't a tall building. Not enough time to pull out his grapple and swing to safety. No ledges to grab. All he could do was cover his head, land in a roll, and pray.

He landed fine. Winded, broken arm, but fine. But the air down here smelled funny. Not the regular Gotham, something-died-here-recently funny either. Kind of like a...

That hiss. Someone tossed a sedative bomb down... here...

He woke up to laughter. "Well, it's not often I get a lab rat like you! Let's get started, shall we?" He couldn't actually reply. He was gagged, a rope winding its way around his mouth. From the way his skin shifted when he blinked, there were sensors taped to his head.

Scarecrow was walking towards him, obviously thinking he was an easy target with his hands and feet cuffed. Big mistake. As soon as Scarecrow was in arm's length, Jason maneuvered his hands from behind his back, over his legs and to his front. Grabbing Scarecrow by the collar, he slammed the small man's head into the floor.

Desperately, Scarecrow released another sedative bomb. Jason tried to run, to get out of the cloud, but Scarecrow grabbed him by the chain holding his ankles together. He landed with a solid thud and the air was knocked out of him, only to be replaced by... gas... crap...

The next time he woke, his wrists and ankles were still cuffed. But there was duct tape winding around his forearms. So, Scarecrow could learn from his mistakes. "Excellent. You're awake. You know, this doesn't actually work as well when you're unconscious? You have to be awake if I'm going to record my observations properly." Scarecrow started towards him again, syringe at the ready.

Well. Jason was at the ready too. He pivoted as best he could, swinging his feet like a cudgel. Not very efficient, but it had Scarecrow backing up a few steps. "Hmm. I can see you're going to be difficult about this. Very well. I'll just have to get creative."

Another wave of sedative gas rolled towards him. He held his breath as best as he could, so Scarecrow walked up and kicked him in the stomach.

Not a...gain...

"Finally done! And it's hooked up properly. Very nice."

Scarecrow was strapping something to his neck. Jason lashed out, as much as he was able, but Scarecrow jumped back and out of the way. "Now, everything is in place. Let's get started." He turned to a group of thugs and men in suits behind him. "Please take notes class. This will be on your final exam." He pulled out a remote and pressed a button.

Something stabbed into his neck and a cold sensation flooded the spot, heading up. The needle retreated once its purpose was fulfilled, but Jason didn't notice.

He was too busy staring at the Joker, walking past Scarecrow, dragging a crowbar along the floor. "Why hello there bird boy~! It's been a long time, hasn't it?" His voice was distorted, must be whatever the Scarecrow gave him. A twisted laugh erupted from the clown's mouth. "Shall we play again?"

Joker swing his crowbar, sending Jason flying. His already broken ribs screamed.

(Distantly, he heard Scarecrow address the thugs. "And now we see a typical case of mind over matter. Red Hood believes he is being assaulted by his worst fear, and his body reacts accordingly.")

The crowbar came down, again and again. Only bruising hits, but they hurt.

("Now you, Gordy was it? Yes. Take this broom handle and hit him in the leg with it. Let's see what happens when his fear is made real.")

With a grin of maniacal pleasure, Joker swung again, slamming the crowbar into his thigh. The force of it broke his femur, filling the sudden silence with a sickening, wet snap. But he refused to scream. He didn't the first time, and he refused to do so now.

("This formula is specifically developed to make the target relive his worst physical assault. See how a simple touch with the broom broke the vigilante's leg? Mind over matter is very powerful folks. Bidding for a vial starts at $4000.")

The people watched dispassionately or with interest as the Joker continued beating him. Still, it was easier this time. At least it was strangers...

He woke to a sharp pain in the side of his neck, and confusion. Where...?

Right. Scarecrow got him. He was in a warehouse. There weren't many other places with crates stacked to the ceiling.

There was blinking lights in the crates. Cameras. He was being watched. Still, he might as well try and get free while he was alone. There was a nail protruding from that crate that should do fine. Scooting back towards it, he hoisted himself to his knees and turned his back. Tricky. This would have to be done by feel, which was probably the worst way to do this. Nothing for it though. Carefully, he scraped at the tape holding his forearms together, hoping to fray it.

Footsteps. He worked faster, wincing as the nail bit into his arm. But a flash of bright blue froze him in place.

A weak smile crossed his face. Someone had removed the gag? When had that happened? "Nightwing."

And there was that smile Jason knew. Dick's voice was a bit distorted though. Must be something wrong with his hearing. "Yeah Little Wing. It's me."

"Great. Could you give me a hand? I can get the tape off, but Scarecrow took my jacket so I have nothing to pick the locks with." He rattled his wrists behind him, allowing the chain to jangle.

"Don't think so Little Wing."

What?

"You see, we don't need you anymore." Arms crossed over the blue bird on Dick's chest.

"What are you talking about Nightwing? You said it yourself. Never give up on family." There was a desperate plea to his voice that he didn't like.

"It's true Jason." Bruce. He walked in, making less than no noise. "Besides. How many times have you said you weren't part of this family?"

Too many times. "Well... yeah, but..."

"Oh stop." Demon Brat too? "All of this sniveling is pathetic."

Then Pretender's voice. "No wonder you didn't last as Robin. Look at yourself. Taken down by Scarecrow of all people. At least have the decency to die before you tarnish the Robin name any more."

No. Why were they saying this? It wasn't like he didn't deserve it, or hadn't thought it himself a thousand thousand times before, but he'd never thought he'd hear it.

And then Oracle, Barbara, wheeled herself in. "You never were as good as Dick was. Heck, I could probably beat you, and I can't walk. How worthless can you get?"

"Ha! I was a better Robin than you. And I only had the traffic light suit for what, a month?" Stephanie too? She laughed. "Look at your face! I've never seen such a pitiful expression!"

Cass walked in as well. She didn't say anything, but she had always been better at non-verbal communication. And every muscle in her body screamed disappointment.

"Honestly, Master Bruce should have known better. He found you stealing the tires from the car. It was a terrible start that just went downhill from there. You're no better than gutter trash.." No, not Alfred. Alfred had never given up on him.

Tears flooded down Jason's cheeks. He didn't know why he had expected any different. He tried to kill half of these people. More than once. He'd shot at them, beaten them, torn their hearts and their hope and their trust in him six ways to Sunday and still they had come back with open arms and smiles. This was what he deserved, every word. He had pressed them to give up on him, to throw him out, and they had.

He'd been expecting it, so why did it hurt so much?

Everyone's peace said, Batman walked forward, stopping when he was kneeling in front of Jason. And he didn't smell like he normally did, like leather and sweat and just a bit of Bruce Wayne's cologne, but the words, the words were all ones that Jason had imagined him saying, when he was Robin, when he returned a disappointment. "I never should have taken you in. I regret every moment I spent training you. You weren't worth the effort. It would be better for all of us if you died here." Batman rose, pushed back his cape where it had fallen in front of his shoulder, and walked away. "Goodbye Jason."

And like the vampires the people of Gotham thought them to be, the Batfamily melted into the darkness. There was another prick on his neck and Jason sank gratefully into the oblivion of darkness.

Nightwing was back! Jason felt hope surge through him. His brother was wearing the same reassuring smile he always did. Maybe he had changed his mind?

He tried to call out, but the rope was back in place.

What was that in his hand?

With a laugh, Nightwing swung the crowbar. It hit Jason square in the jaw, cracking it, then slammed down again on his chest. The laughter continued, as if Tim had just told a joke or they were watching a comedy on movie night.

SLAMHAHHAHAHATHUDTHUDCRACKHAHAHHAHAHA

Jason struggled, trying to call out to his brother, to ask him why. The rope dug into the corners of his mouth, blood ran down his face, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the sight of his brother, grin stretching over his face. The red spattering the blue stripe of his symbol. The steady thud of metal on flesh. The searing pain. The taste of copper in his mouth.

Someone had done something to Dick. Because no matter what Jason did, no matter what he said, Dick would never do this. Never.

Unless it wasn't Dick.

Slowly, Nightwing started changing. His laughter became higher in pitch, his skin paled from tan to white. Dark hair swinging over his eyes got shoved back, turning green as he pushed his hand through it. The black and blue was replaced by a purple and green three-piece, the domino mask fell from his eyes.

"Hello Boy Blunder! My Little Wing, dear, precious Jaybird! Oh, but not so precious anymore, are you? All abandoned by the people you abandoned first! Ha! This is just too good!"

Joker, not Nightwing, how had he thought that was Nightwing, dropped the crowbar, choosing instead to kick him while he was down. Jason cried out, the contractions of his own cheek muscles tearing the corners of his mouth open wider.

"No one loves you Birdie! Batman was so glad when I killed you the first time. He didn't even try to get you out. You're nothing to him, to anyone. Which begs the question," slamSLAMCRACKHEEHEEHEEthudcrackSLAM and the Joker leaned in close so he was right next to Jason's ear. When he spoke, it wasn't the Joker's voice. "Why did you even bother coming back at all?" Batman swung the crowbar.

The next thing that broke wasn't his bones or his skin or his blood vessels.

He was free. Mostly. There was a chain on his ankle, bolting him to the middle of the circle. The circle of crates, stacked from floor to ceiling, surrounding him and eight other people, faces lost in shadow.

Suddenly, it wasn't stacks of crates. It was a circular cave surrounding a circular pool of green liquid.

No.

No!

This couldn't be! Not the Pits! He'd worked so hard, so hard to free himself of the Pit's influence, of the madness, the rage. Going back in would

but it was too late. He was already falling.

He surfaced sputtering. The eight around him were suddenly thrown into full detail and

Cass quiet, so quiet, like a mouse, but a lion and look, Damian, Little D, thinks himself so high and mighty but his throne topples and Tim brains and

brains and coffee and Steph, so bright and shiny and

purple, not like Dick's blue, but close and bright as well and there was blue and blue and birds and blue and with Dick always came

wheels and glasses and Barbara and look Alfred with a broom and a

plate of cookies

and a look

and Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, it's always been Bruce with darkness and the night and justice and

why did they make him all so

ANGRY SO SO ANGRY AND

they were bright, even Bruce with the darkness and all he had left was

blood and pain

and darkness

and green

green like water, green like clowns, he had used to like green, right?

With a roar, he pushed himself to shore and it was easy, almost like there wasn't any Pit water at all and he jumped at the people who had been his fam- the people who had abandoned him, but he had left them first so did he deserve it?

The smallest went first. Simple, so simple, just dig his nails into the arrogant vocal cords and pull and oops, took the trachea too, poor little - hahah and next was

green like eyes, like eyes behind glass and frames and knock, oops, on the ground and stomp and computers are useless in a fist fight didn't you know, no? no, because brains aren't good for knowing when they're on the floor and nothing is -cle an any more

clean, the oldest, he was easy, no defense, no armor. The tray of cookies, yum, no, don't eat, maybe poison, but the tray, ooh. Grab, the edge was dull but it would do and SLICE and redredred. -red. Not so prim anym-

And then birds fly free on blue wings but the -wing s had to be clipped so he grabbed the wings and twisted and pulled and there was a pair of pops and the wings were useless, flightless birds were useless, put down like a dog and kick to the skull and concave.

Hm. Red plus blue is purple. That makes sense. Grab purple and slam it into the cave wall and the cave wall and the cave wall and purple plus wall is red apparently and the red was on his hands and the wall and Spoil- ing the green of the Pit

math, who likes math and probabilities and brains and coffee and he should have some coffee, no coffee, maybe he already had some, he could get it and feed it to him because that guy needs some joe so he used his nails to open his stomach and oops, no coffee red red Red - red and dark

Dark, so dark, pillar of darkness, but not -man, -girl yes. She saw his intention and it scared her and it scared him but he couldn't stop because they had abandoned him, left him to die, explosion, crowbar, laughter, sitting on a crate smoking and her neck went cracksnap and that was a funny angle

dark, darker, and -man, not girl or boy or elder and ouch, punch in the shoulder or stab in the shoulder? but it didn't matter so he laughed and the sound grated on his throat, so dry, so he pushed down the darkness and punchgiggleslamlaughpunchpunchpunch oh, concave again

and he looked over the everything and everything was red and green like Christmas but he hadn't had a good Christmas in no, not since before and before and before that was bad and so he laughed because this used to be his famil- but now they were gone and it was his fault because of course it was his fault, who else could it be and he laughed and laughed and cried and laughed and there was a pinch

in his neck and

suddenly

Things were less funny and more sad and

shatte

red

and maybe darkness was better

what had he done, why was, what, was there a way back, he wanted to go back, back, backbackback before the crowbar, before the wheels before before this so he wasn't a curse, a plague to the ones he had loved once and didn't love and loved again and before

or maybe he should just stop stop trying to hold together to fight to carry there wasn't anything left because they were all gone and stop

so let's do that, shall we?

AN: Walks in one year late with Starbucks. Hiya! Have a chapter.

I will be honest, I've had this written for a while. But I'm having a lot of trouble writing the next chapter. Assuming there is a next chapter... Just not entirely sure where to take it. Oh well.

Really hoping I wrote the last bit alright. Hmm... Sips hot chocolate.