There's some swearing here, but that's about it. And Roy makes an appearance! Who doesn't love some Roy and Jason bonding?
Four days after the incident at Port Adams, Jason woke up to the mid-morning sun in his face.
He rolled over and groaned, tugging blankets up over his head to block out the light. Last night had been a night off and he spent it in bed. There were three extra blankets draped over him, six empty water glasses on his nightstand and a nearly-empty ibuprofen bottle on the floor next to a container of chicken lo mein he'd tried to eat when he took the medication. He was only able to manage three bites before he felt full.
The alarm went off on his phone and he shoved the blankets back, staring at the ceiling. If his alarm was going off it meant he'd spent just over twelve hours in bed. The last time he'd spent that much time in bed he'd been thirteen years old with a bad case of pneumonia. Alfred dosed his hot chocolate with a mild sedative because he'd kept trying to sneak down to the cave to work with him while Bruce was out on patrol. When he woke up later, it was to the smell of his favorite breakfast and a very apologetic Alfred.
Jason closed his eyes and smiled.
It was a good memory.
His alarm still going off, he sat up with a grunt and gingerly lifted his legs over the edge of the bed, careful not to let them hit the floor too hard. He turned off the alarm and noticed the condition his nightstand was in. The mess he'd made over the last few days was impressive, no doubt, but it bothered him. (And it was a good thing Alfred wasn't there to see the mess or the state he was in; he'd have a coronary at the sight.) He retrieved the sweats he was wearing the night before from the floor next to the bed and pulled them on, stacking the empty glasses inside each other and heading toward the kitchen.
Before he let himself make coffee, he washed all of his dirty dishes and left them in the rack to dry. The leftover lo mein went into the trash and the ibuprofen bottle returned to its usual place beside the sink. Once he was satisfied, he put the coffee on and sat down at the small kitchen table with his laptop. The websites he'd visited a few nights ago were still open and he continued reading. The symptom checker he found spit out a list of things he could have, based on the information he put in. According to that, with his fatigue, chills and headaches, he could have anything from mono to pneumonia to an inter-cranial hematoma.
He rolled his eyes at the hematoma diagnosis and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. As he sat down at the table again, he remembered the leg pain. The website listed several possible reasons for that, including blot clots and fractures, but the most likely culprit was a stress reaction from physical activity.
Sipping his coffee, he closed the laptop and headed toward the bathroom to shower. The more he thought about it, the reason behind all of his symptoms was likely stress; he'd been running himself ragged for weeks, and factoring in how hard he was working to avoid Bruce? It wouldn't surprise him at all if he came down with something like mono. He'd pick up some vitamins, maybe take a night or two off to try and keep it from getting any worse.
And if he did have some kind of stress fracture, he could handle it. It didn't hold a candle to the pain he remembered from first time he'd fractured his leg and if he needed to take some time off, he would manage.
For now he wouldn't worry about it, even if his instincts were telling him otherwise.
Roy was waiting at their usual booth at the diner when Jason walked in. At seeing him, Roy's face melted into a grin and he raised his arm in a wave. Jason felt himself smile widely in return, sliding into the bench across the table. Roy nodded at the waitress and she made her way over, giving them menus and blushing madly as she turned to leave.
"Thank you, Maggie."
She turned and looked at Roy, biting her lip and smiling. She somehow blushed even more at her name on his lips.
"You're welcome. I'll come back in a few."
Maggie walked away and Jason watched Roy for a moment, trying not to laugh at Roy's gaze following her across the diner. Jason rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.
"You done, Harper?"
Roy grinned and picked up his menu.
"Hey- she batted her eyelashes at me, Jaybird. I'm only playing along."
Jason barely glanced at the menu before deciding on his usual burger and fries. He'd been ravenously hungry when he left his place half an hour ago, but since he got here the smell of food was making him feel nauseous. He sipped his water and watched Roy peruse the menu. He had a bit of a tan, some mischief in his eye and a fullness to his cheeks that spoke volumes about the break they'd taken from their Outlaw gig since their last job a few months back.
"Our little sabbatical looks good on you, Roy. Nice tan."
Roy took one look at Jason's shit-eating grin and laughed, leaning into the corner of the booth and throwing an arm over the back. He shrugged one shoulder.
"Kori seems to dig it. She says it brings out the blue in my eyes. And she likes my freckles."
Jason tossed his head back and laughed.
"Yeah, because freckles scream 'I'm a badass'."
Before Roy could defend himself, Maggie returned to take their orders and refill their water glasses. In addition to his food, Jason ordered coffee. He never used to drink it, but lately it was good for a boost in energy since he wasn't eating much. A moment later she set a steaming mug down in front of him.
"Do you take cream or sugar?"
"No, black is fine. Thanks, Maggie."
She blushed and nodded, her eyes shyly meeting his.
"You're welcome."
She disappeared and Jason took a sip, savoring the warmth. He could feel Roy watching him and he ignored it, instead watching the rain fall outside the diner window. Roy let him have a moment before he started asking questions.
"How long have we known each other?"
Jason frowned and looked at him- it wasn't the question he was anticipating. He wrapped his hands around the mug and shrugged.
"A few years, why?"
His posture hadn't changed and he was still leaning casually against the back of the booth, but Jason could feel the shift in his demeanor.
"After all that time and the shit we've been through, you still think you need to hide stuff from me?"
Jason opened his mouth to reply, but Maggie arrived with their food before he could. She set their plates down and smiled at both of them before leaving again. Roy shifted, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. The expression on his face was sympathetic and lacked any judgement whatsoever. They'd both seen each other at some of the lowest points in their lives and had been there to make sure the other didn't lose themselves.
It was a blessing and a curse to have someone who'd seen you at your worst and still cared about you anyway.
"Whatever it is, I can help, you know. God knows you've helped me through enough of my issues and bad decisions. Let me help you for a change."
Jason stared at his burger and fries, wondering how in the hell so many people wormed their way into his life and knew him so well. He had to re-evaluate his life choices, apparently.
"I'm fine. I think I caught the bug that's going around."
"Yeah, okay. And I'm Batman."
Roy rolled his eyes and grabbed the bottle of ketchup, shaking it over his fried potatoes.
"You've dropped close to twenty pounds, by the looks of you, so you aren't eating. You aren't sleeping, since you ordered coffee with a damn bacon cheeseburger," he gestured to Jason's plate and the coffee, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "And you're trying not to let on that you're limping."
Jason narrowed his eyes, but there was no anger in it.
"Have I covered it all?" Roy asked pointedly before digging into his omelet. "Or is there more you're willing to share?"
Jason pulled his plate closer to him and took a bite of his burger. Despite not being hungry, it tasted pretty good. He took another bite just to make Roy wait for an answer.
"Honestly, I'm fine. I got into a scuffle the other night with some of Two-Face's guys, but it wasn't serious."
Roy put his fork down and waved at Maggie before pointing at Jason's coffee. She came and set a mug down in front of him. He waited until she was gone before he spoke again.
"Okay, that explains the limp. But not the weight loss or the lack of sleep."
Jason sighed and swiped a fry through the ketchup on his plate. As much as he wanted to believe it was mono or something similarly benign, he knew deep down it wasn't. Roy took another bite of his omelette, still watching him.
"Are you having nightmares again?"
Roy knew about his nightmares and the effects all the trauma had on him. On more than one occasion during their missions together he woke up in the middle of the night with Roy and Kori wrapped around him, only to be told he'd been screaming and thrashing around. Jason bit the inside of his cheek and glanced out the window for a moment before meeting Roy's concerned gaze.
"A few, but they aren't as bad as they used to be."
Roy nodded and stared at his plate.
"Do you want some company? I can tell the guy who hired me to find someone else, and I can come hang out with you. What do you say?"
Jason shook his head.
"Nah, that's fine. Like I said, they're not that bad anymore. I think I'm just coming down with something, you know? The Two-Face thing took weeks to come together and I wasn't sleeping much."
Roy raised a skeptical eyebrow, but accepted Jason's answer anyway.
"If you're sure."
"Roy, I'm fine. You need to go on that op. It might be the only chance you have to get your hands on that type of technology."
Roy held his hands up and sighed.
"Fine, I'll go, but only because you're making me. I'll bring you back a fancy new blaster."
Jason grinned and pushed his plate away. He saw Roy look at the amount of food that was left and frown. He pretended not to notice.
"You'd better, or there will be hell to pay."
Maggie brought the check and Jason deftly swiped it out of Roy's reach.
"This one's on me. You can get the next one."
"If you insist."
Roy followed Jason outside, relieved the rain had finally stopped.
"Take care of yourself, Jaybird. I expect to see you back to your old self when I come home, you hear me?"
"Okay, mom."
Roy stepped forward and pulled Jason into a hug. When he pulled back and put his hands on Jason's shoulders, there was a serious look on his face that startled Jason in its intensity.
"Seriously, Jason. Please?"
Jason nodded.
"Yeah, okay."
Roy smiled and they both went their separate ways, but not before Roy turned back to look at his friend. There was bruising visible above the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck. He frowned and pulled out his phone, bringing up a contact he hadn't messaged in a very long time.
Dick Grayson.
He typed quickly before he lost his nerve.
Hey. I just had lunch with Jason and something's up. Didn't even touch his food. Keep an eye on him, would you? Sic Alfred on him.
He watched Jason turn the corner at the end of the block, his thumb hovering over the 'send' button. Something wasn't right, that much he knew. And if Jason wouldn't tell him, that was fine, but he didn't feel too badly about enlisting the help of a family of detectives.
He hit send and slid the phone back in his pocket.
Toward the end of a blissfully quiet patrol, Jason heard commotion in an alley while he made his way through Otisburg. He dropped onto the sidewalk just outside the alley in time to see a group of wanna-be gang members beating someone up. They hadn't heard him arrive and he used that to his advantage. He approached from behind, hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, leaning over the shoulder of one of them.
"Hey, guys. Can I join in?"
The guy flinched and backed away. He reached into his jacket but before he could grab whatever weapon he stashed there, Jason had hold of his arm and wrenched it behind him.
"C'mon. Gotta be faster than that."
Jason punched the guy in the gut and when he doubled over to try to breathe, Jason brought his knee up to his face. The guy crumpled into a heap, unconscious. The other four of them shifted their focus to Jason and not the man they were beating to a pulp, giving him a chance to get away. He was cradling what appeared to be a broken jaw, but otherwise appeared to be alright.
"Thanks, man. I appreciate it."
His voice was strained, but grateful. Jason nodded.
"It's why I'm here, man. Go get that looked at."
The man turned and fled. The one who fancied himself the leader of these idiots spoke up, stepping forward.
"This was none of your business, Red Hood. This is our territory."
Jason snorted.
"Riiiight. Your territory. Who are you, again?"
"You son of a..."
The guy came at Jason, raising a rusty crowbar from his side. Jason easily side-stepped the attack and grabbed the crowbar, ripping it from the guy's hand. Using his own momentum against him, Jason pushed the guy and hit his back with the crowbar, sending him flying into a dumpster. He hit the side with a loud clang and collapsed into a puddle.
"Why is it always a damn crowbar with people in this city?"
The remaining three members attacked him all at once. Their close proximity meant he couldn't use his guns but he still had the crowbar, using it to deflect their blows. They soon had him backed into a corner and he realized he was getting tired when they started to land punches and kicks they shouldn't have been able to. He shoved one of them back and he panted, trying to catch his breath.
"Bad move, guys. You don't ever wanna corner someone like me."
With one last burst of energy he jumped toward the guy to his right, the crowbar coming down on his forearm. The guy dropped his knife and screamed in agony when his arm broke, his hand dangling at a very unnatural angle. Jason turned to face the other two, who had wisely retreated a few steps and were waiting to see what Jason would do next. Jason dropped the crowbar and smirked when they both flinched as it clattered to the pavement, the noise echoing down the alley. He stepped toward them and they both continued to back up. One of them pulled a knife from his jacket and the other one picked up a brick. They were still backing away from him.
"We aren't afraid of you."
"You should be."
In an instant, Jason drew a gun from the holster inside his jacket and fired two shots, the rubber bullets hitting both men in the abdomen. They dropped to the ground and curled into themselves, groaning. Jason knelt between them, his voice low and downright menacing.
"You're lucky I wasn't in the mood to clean up a mess," he said. "Otherwise you'd have a bullet in your foreheads."
Using the butt of his gun, he knocked both of them out and dragged them toward the chain link fence at the end of the alley. He secured their hands to the fence with flex cuffs before lugging the other two unconscious men over to join their buddies. As he dropped them he stumbled, exhaustion taking over.
He'd come way too close to getting his ass kicked.
The one with the shattered arm was cowering behind the dumpster, cradling his arm against his chest. He was trembling with shock and Jason knew he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. The crowbar lay a few feet from him and he picked it up, tossing it into the dumpster.
"Assholes," he muttered.
As he turned to leave, his comm beeped before he heard Oracle's voice in his ear.
Great.
"Do you want me to call that in, or are you going to?"
Jason shrugged and took off to where his bike was stashed two blocks over. He wasn't surprised she'd seen everything, only that it had taken her this long to hack into his feed. He'd been in Gotham for several months now.
"Be my guest, sweetheart. Saves me the trouble."
He could hear typing on her end; no doubt she'd already called it in. But knowing she'd been watching him, he tried a little harder to hide the fact he felt like death warmed over at the moment. He chuckled at his unintended joke when she spoke again.
"You alright?"
He stopped walking and glanced up, looking for one of the security cameras. When he found one he tilted his head sarcastically and shrugged.
"Why is everyone asking me that? I'm fine. Leave me alone."
He switched the channel on his comm and entered the alley to see his bike sitting where he'd left it a few hours ago. Just as he was about to get on and head home, he sensed a presence behind him and his jaw clenched automatically. He wasn't in the mood for a confrontation tonight, but he supposed after being back in the city as long as he had been, it was inevitable.
"I thought my shadow looked a little Bat-like lately."
Batman said nothing, standing at the edge of the shadow cast by the streetlight at the end of the alley, watching him.
"Just say whatever is on your mind and go." Jason turned and looked at him, waiting a beat. "Or stand there and be creepy. Whatever."
He swung a leg over his bike and entered the security code that allowed him to start the engine, waiting a moment with his hand on the throttle. He knew it was coming. Bruce always waited for someone to ask him what he wanted, like a vampire who needed an invitation, and he would wait as long as it took until that happened. Jason refused to indulge him tonight. He was about to leave when Batman's voice carried down the alley toward him.
"How long?"
The rest of his question was implied and Jason usually refused to take the bait. He would pretend he didn't know Bruce that well, that Bruce didn't know him that well. If Bruce wanted answers from him, he needed to earn them. But at that point in his evening, Jason's patience was gone and he felt like hell. He closed his eyes.
Might as well get it over with.
"How long what?"
More silence.
Jason could hear the quiet rumble of the engine on his bike. There was a rat rustling in a trash can down the alley. The sirens of a Gotham Memorial ambulance wailed six blocks to the east. In his earpiece, he could hear the feed from the cave he hacked into a few weeks prior. But with all those sounds to hear, he heard absolutely nothing from Bruce.
As per usual.
He sighed in resignation. He didn't disable the voice filter but his tone still came across clearly- cold and sharp and pissed off. Jason refused to turn around when he spoke.
"I'm fine."
"Not from what I saw earlier."
Jason shook his head, sarcasm replacing the anger.
"Oh, well, thanks for the help."
"I knew you had it covered."
He shifted on the bike to look back over his shoulder.
"And you care why, exactly?"
He stared at the ground, watching Bruce from his periphery. There was a barely perceptible tell on Bruce's part, a subtle tightening around his mouth. He ignored Jason's barb, pretending it didn't sting in the slightest. He didn't want to argue anymore.
"You know you can always go see Dr. Thompkins."
Ah, avoiding the direct question. I see we're following the usual textbook material tonight.
"I said I'm fine."
He turned so he could actually look at Bruce. He'd come closer, stepping further into the yellowed circle of pavement illuminated by the street light. The angles of the cowl and the shadows it threw over his face made him look scarier than usual, the white lenses in stark contrast to the shadows from the cowl.
"How is your back? That two-by-four do much damage through your body armor?"
Oh, so now he wants to talk.
He felt the anger bubble up in his chest. Jason nearly bit through his tongue as he tried to push it back down.
"Why are you following me?"
"You're not well."
Ouch.
It wasn't the first time he'd heard that, but it still stung, especially coming from him. But it didn't matter. He would just sweep it under the ginormous rug where he kept the rest of his issues with his family.
"Never stopped you from pushing me away before, so what's changed?"
Jason watched as Bruce actually flinched a little at his response. He knew things weren't that simple, that Bruce hadn't necessarily just written him off or pushed him away, but it still felt good to say it. Things had been absolutely awful when he came back, but he hadn't had a say in the matter and had no tools to cope with it, either. Not the emotional stuff, anyway. Not with this family. Talia had helped with everything else, the physical things like finances, resources. Information. Motivation.
He was shaken from his thoughts when Bruce spoke up.
"You aren't exactly easy to get a hold of."
"You're the 'world's greatest detective'. If you want to find someone, you know how."
They stared at each other, the tension between them crackling like static electricity before a thunderstorm. Jason climbed off the bike and faced Bruce, his fists balled at his sides and his shoulders tense. He broke the silence first.
"I don't need a babysitter."
"I'm not saying you do. But if you're sick, if you need help.."
"Call Dr. Thompkins, I got it."
"That's not what I meant. You know you can…"
Bruce stopped and pursed his lips, the words 'come home' dying on his tongue and they both knew it. Jason believed Bruce would choke on the words if he ever tried to say them out loud, that he only bothered trying to say them because he felt like he should. But Bruce couldn't bring himself to say them because he didn't want to drive Jason away for good by suggesting such a thing. Bruce was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and damn it if it didn't hate the feeling.
At Bruce's silence, Jason's shoulders went slack and he closed his eyes. The Manor hadn't been home for a long time. But he couldn't deny there was some appeal in going back, despite the fact he knew it wouldn't fix anything. When he spoke again his voice had lost its harsh edges and most of the animosity.
"You know, there's a reason people say you can't go home again."
The sounds of the city filled the space between them while Jason thought about the Manor and what going home would mean. Keeping Alfred company while he made breakfast, the quiet sounds of the Gotham Symphonic Orchestra coming from the radio. The creaks and groans of the old house settling when they were all in bed after patrol. The warmth of the fireplace in the study where he'd get lost in a book for hours. The feeling like he belonged there, like he was part of that family.
Even if that last one wasn't correct, he remembered how great it felt to pretend it was.
After a minute or two, he looked up at the sky. He felt his eyes water.
He was exhausted.
He was tired of feeling like hell for as long as he had been; the last few weeks had been awful. Jason closed his eyes and opened his helmet, cool night air caressing his sweaty face. He looked at the man he once called his father and for the first time in a very long time he didn't bother trying to hide anything.
Bruce was so familiar with Jason's features it didn't matter he was wearing a domino beneath the helmet. From where he was standing, he could plainly see Jason's face was pale and his cheekbones were sharp. Something was definitely wrong. His paternal instincts fought to override those of Batman, and he had to suppress the urge to be the concerned father because Jason pushed him away whenever he tried. No matter what he tried, Bruce couldn't seem to win.
Jason suddenly felt like an insecure teenager in front of his father after being caught sneaking in after curfew. He cast his eyes downward.
"Even if I thought that was a good idea, it could never measure up to how I remember it. So thanks, but no thanks."
Bruce's stoic expression faltered momentarily at the confession. Jason's memories of his life at the Manor were positive ones, apparently. That was good. That meant there was something there to build on.
Jason scrubbed a hand down the side of his face before securing the helmet. His voice once again came through the modulator, but the clipped, vicious tone was gone, replaced with a strange mix of fondness and lighthearted sarcasm.
"I'd appreciate it if you stopped following me, old man. That, or lend a hand once in a while."
He turned back to his bike and lifted his leg over, gunning the throttle and disappearing around the corner.
Bruce grappled up onto the rooftop and glanced toward home. Jason, in his own way, had extended an olive branch, whether he intended to or not. At one point in the not so distant past, that conversation would have begun and ended with Jason telling him to fuck off.
He'd take what he could get.
Jason drove back to his place and his headache returned in full force on the way. The chills from earlier in the day had also returned. He fumbled with the locks on his door and stumbled in, leaning against the door once it was closed. With a sigh he slid down the door until he was seated on the floor. The helmet came off and he ran a hand through his hair.
"You look like hell, Jay."
Jason looked up to see Dick standing in his kitchen doorway. His hair was perfectly un-perfect, his boots were immaculately polished and his suit was blood spatter-free. Meanwhile, Jason was covered in mud and grime from his fight in the alley, his second-favorite jacket had a tear in the sleeve and he felt like shit.
Jason wanted to deck him.
"Well hello to you too, Dick."
Jason scowled and chucked the helmet at him. Dick noticed the throw lacked its usual force. He put it on the coffee table and leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest.
"Long night?"
Jason peeled off the domino and glared at him.
"It is now."
He began unlacing his boots, trying to hide the amount of effort it took. He wasn't in the mood for this. The boots came off and he stood, bracing himself against the door, and he took his time putting his gear in the hall closet. He brushed past Dick on his way into the kitchen and flipped the light on above the stove. Dick frowned and turned, surprised Jason hadn't told him to fuck off yet. He watched Jason grab a glass from a cupboard and turn to the sink.
"You and Bruce decide to tag team me tonight?"
Dick closed his eyes, bracing for a fight. It was usually what happened after Bruce and Jason interacted. But tonight, Jason was noticeably not yelling or throwing things, and his body language, though still tense and on edge, wasn't screaming with righteous fury. He followed Jason into the kitchen to see him reaching for a bottle of ibuprofen. He raised an eyebrow at how empty the bottle sounded.
"You talked to Bruce tonight? Is Alfred going to have suture anything?"
Dick smiled faintly. The last time the two of them fought Bruce broke two knuckles after punching a brick wall. Jason drained the first glass, snorting softly when he finished. He shook his head and grimaced, reminded of his pounding headache.
"No. He's been keeping his distance, though not as far as I'd like. Just close enough to be a pain in my ass."
He refilled his glass and tapped four pills into his hand. From what Dick could see, it was a dose of about eight hundred milligrams- a therapeutic level in the short-term. But he watched carefully as Jason swallowed the pills and drained the glass again. He turned around and leaned a hip against the sink, mirroring Dick's posture. He was still unable to shake the chill from earlier. He met Dick's gaze and tilted his head expectantly.
"What are you doing here and am I going to have to fix a window?"
"Your windows are fine. Nice upgrade, by the way. It took me twenty minutes to get in this time."
Dick pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He took his gloves off, carefully flexing his hands and fingers. Jason noted the red, raw knuckles and a bruise across several fingers and felt sorry for the guy on the receiving end of that beating. He grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and tossed it to him. Dick smiled gratefully, his smile temporarily disarming Jason.
"I got a text from Roy today."
Jason sighed and turned back toward the sink, the beginnings of his smile disappearing. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the counter and stared out the window. He bit the inside of his cheek, angry at himself for entertaining the thought Dick was here simply because he wanted to be.
"Is that so?"
Dick was careful with his tone, hoping to remain as neutral as possible. He assumed Roy had voiced his concerns to Jason already, but it was apparent Jason didn't know Roy had contacted him. Dick pursed his lips in irritation.
Damn it, Roy.
"He's worried. Said I should sic Alfred on you."
Jason thought back to lunch with Roy that afternoon and how he barely touched his food. He usually devoured the enormous burger, side of fries and an obnoxiously large slice of pie. So what if he hadn't been hungry? Why did everyone care all of a sudden?
"Just a bug going around. Haven't been hungry."
Dick studied him; Jason outweighed him considerably and had for some time. He still thought Jason would catch up to Bruce; they were already almost identical in height. But as he looked at Jason in that moment, he realized the angles were all wrong. Something was off. The shirts he wore underneath his armor usually fit him close to the skin, but the one he was wearing tonight was loose across the chest and shoulders. His pants were low on his hips and he'd made an extra notch on his belt. His cheekbones were more prominent than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes.
Dick didn't bother trying to hide the fact he'd been studying Jason from the moment he'd walked in. But he knew he had to be careful with what he was about to say. He switched the ice pack to the other hand, giving Jason a moment to come around to the idea people actually worried about him.
When Jason turned back to him, leaning on the counter once more, he was a little less defensive. With his guard down Dick saw his chance to find out what was going on.
"Now that I see you, I understand why Roy is concerned. You've lost weight and you look like you haven't been sleeping." He looked up at Jason; the guy looked like hell. "Is it something I can help with? Or Tim? Is there a case that's behind this?"
Jason bit the inside of his cheek again and continued staring at Dick's hands. His head was throbbing and his leg was killing him. He shook his head and immediately regretted it, the movement making the pain even worse somehow.
"No. I've just been tired. I think it's mono or something. M'fine."
His words slurred together and Dick stood up, ready to pick him up and haul him off to see Leslie.
"Jason, are you…"
Jason put a hand out, waving him off.
"It's just a headache. Going to bed. Use the front door when you leave. It'll lock behind you."
He shuffled down the hallway, taking his shirt off as he went. Dick followed him, his eyes widening at the deep purple bruising across Jason's upper back. Dick touched a finger to his mask and immediately snapped a photo of the bruising.
"Jesus, Jay! What the hell happened?"
Dick hurried after him, hoping he didn't pass out before he made it into bed. Jason leaned against the wall next to his bed, kicking out of his pants before collapsing onto the mattress, facing away from the door. Dick was there in a heartbeat, helping him settle in. Up close he really noticed the loss in muscle mass. Jason was still beyond capable of doing what they did and being good at it, but the difference since he last saw Jason three weeks ago was startling.
"Someone snuck up on me with a two-by-four," he mumbled.
Dick snorted. All things considered, the idea of someone creeping up behind the Red Hood with a two-by-four was fairly amusing.
"Why weren't you wearing your body armor?"
Jason looked up and threw him a dirty look.
"I was, you ass." He swatted Dick's hand away and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He was shivering. Dick looked around and found another blanket on the floor.
"You didn't get hit in the head, did you?" He sat down on the edge of the bed near Jason's hip, fingers checking Jason's scalp for lumps and bruising. He shoved Dick's hand away again.
"God, Dick. No. Other than the two-by-four, I'm okay. Just let me sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."
"I saw the bandages on your arm. Do you want me to take a look at it? Are there stitches to check?"
"No, it's good."
Dick sat there a moment, looking around Jason's room. There wasn't much on the walls, save for a few photographs. He knew Jason took photos for surveillance purposes, but these were of the Gotham skyline and taken from a vantage point usually observed by members of their family. They were great shots. His gaze settled on a single photo propped against a lamp on the nightstand. Bruce and Jason stood near the gates of the manor and Jason was in his school uniform. They were both smiling, Bruce's arm around Jason's shoulders, pulling him close.
"Little Wing?" Dick was still sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at Jason. He looked so much younger when he was sick. It was easy to forget how young they all were, sometimes. He felt guilty for not realizing Jason wasn't feeling well. He'd likely been dealing with it on his own, and considering the weight loss? He'd been alone for quite some time.
"Hmm?" Jason opened his eyes, struggling to focus on Dick. Dick gently combed his fingers through Jason's hair.
"Promise me you'll call in the morning." His voice took on a worried tone. Jason's senses went on alert; no one had used that tone with him a while, such genuine concern.
"Why?"
"Just promise you'll call."
"Fine. I'll call you when I get up. Now will you go home?"
"Yeah, I'll go. Do you need anything before I do?"
"Water and the ibuprofen."
Dick was surprised at Jason's willingness to go along with being taken care of. He went and got the items and tried to find something for Jason to eat with it. He noticed the leftovers in the fridge and smiled before heading back to Jason's room.
"One other thing. Try to eat when you take this next, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah…" His reply was muffled by the blankets and he was hovering on the edge of sleep.
"Sleep well, Jaybird."
"Get out, Dickiebird."
Dick shook his head, a ghost of a smile on his face at the hint of fondness in Jason's tone. On his way down the stairs, he pulled his phone out and replied to Roy's text.
Thanks for the heads up. Talked to him tonight. He'll be in good hands one way or another.
A moment later, Roy replied with a simple 'thank you'. Satisfied, he grappled up to the top of Jason's building, ready to head home for the night. He wasn't surprised to see Batman standing at the roof's edge.
"Is he alright?"
"So you really have been following him."
Batman didn't turn around, instead continuing to stare out over the city.
"You would be too, if you've seen what I have." It wasn't quite his Batman voice; there was more of Bruce there than he likely realized. Dick remained where he'd landed, standing several feet behind him.
"And if you've seen what I have, you'd haul him off to see Leslie immediately."
That got him to turn around to face Dick.
"What's wrong?"
Dick shrugged, weighing just how much to tell Bruce about what he saw.
"Not sure. Massive bruising all over his back that he tells me came from a two-by-four, but I seriously doubt it. Then there's the weight loss, loss of appetite and the fact he's taking eight hundred milligrams of ibuprofen at a time and it barely touches the pain he won't admit he's in."
Bruce clenched his jaw.
"I saw the incident with the two-by-four; that happened the way he told you."
Dick was skeptical, but said nothing. He opened his gauntlet screen and showed him the photo. Bruce took one look at the photo and there was a sharp inhale.
"Send that to me. Now."
Dick complied immediately, but he was wary.
"Batman, wait until I talk to him before you do anything." He got a glare in response. "I agree there's something wrong, but he was willing to talk to me about it tonight and that's a good sign. I made him promise me he'd call me in the morning and I believe him. Wait until after that. Please?"
Bruce was studying the bruise, seeing the weight loss and loss in muscle mass.
"He's lost at least fifteen pounds. Maybe twenty."
Dick put his hand on Batman's forearm, pushing his arm down and making him focus on something else for a moment. The gauntlet screen went dark and disappeared.
"When I talk to him in the morning, I'll fill you in, okay? We'll go from there. I'm glad you've kept an eye on him. It was the right thing to do. Even if he's annoyed by it."
"I need to find out what's making him sick."
Dick sighed.
This isn't a case to solve, Bruce. He's your son.
"Based on the fatigue, lack of appetite and the pain he's in? I'm guessing mono."
Bruce nodded and pulled out his grapple.
"It's a possibility. Thanks for checking in on him."
"Of course, but I'm only here because I got a text from Arsenal this afternoon. He noticed something when they had lunch today."
"What did he say?"
"To sic Alfred on him."
"That can be arranged."
"Good. Have a good night, B. I'll talk to you later."
Back in Jason's apartment, he sat up in bed after feeling something wet on his face. His shoulders slumped in annoyance and he went to the bathroom, holding his nose.
There was blood on his pillowcase.
Anyone else think Jason needs to see a doctor? For crying out loud... bloodstains are hard to get out!
