Chapter 7

"No!" Jason said, as firmly as he could without yelling. He waved Dick's discharge papers at him for emphasis. "You're not going back there, you are going the fuck home to recover!"

"I can't leave this unfinished, Jason!" Dick had his most obstinate face on, and was using Jason's full name which always meant trouble.

"You're on leave, dammit. You'll be met at the airport for a full debrief with the FBI agents taking over the case, and then you will be flown back to the Haven or Gotham where you will be further debriefed and put on leave until you are fully recovered!" So maybe Jason was not doing so great at the not yelling.

" Fine ," Dick said, the jut of his jaw hadn't lessened even a fraction and the stubborn anger in his gaze was still going at full throttle.

"That doesn't mean you can come back as Nightwing either, Dick." Jason growled, he could already see he was going to have to stake out the bullheaded jackasses apartment to prevent it. "If you even think about it, I'll tell Bruce you're not fit." He waved a hand as betrayal flooded Dick's face. "Not the specifics, but enough that he'll bench you."

"You think he can? I'm a grown man, I work with him now, not for him."

"Do you? Do you really, Dick? If he says jump you'll jump and we both know it."

Dick huffed loudly, like a surly teenager. "You know me so well, Jason?"

"Stop being such an ass about this, give yourself a break."

Dick looked like he was gearing up to really let rip, and Jason didn't honestly think he could handle it, so he made an effort to rein in his own temper. "Look, Just take a bit of time, then we will go in together, okay? I'll even play by your rules." And he would. Mostly because he suspected Wilson was going to be pretty damn thorough with wiping out the Santa Prisca portion of ZK12. That left the American and European parts – Jason was planning to have a hand in some of that take down, he just had to bide his time.

Dick rubbed his hands over his face then looked at Jason with slightly wild eyes. "I can't sit around and do nothing, Jay. I can't, I'll lose it." He ran a hand back through his hair, tugging on it sharply. He was acting like a caged animal.

"I'm not saying don't do anything useful, Dick. I'm just saying that heading back to the Santa Prisca strong-hold is not going to be productive – if we send someone there it shouldn't be us, not now at least."

"Why? We're the best qualified," Dick insisted.

Jason took a calming breath. He wanted to go too, but he didn't want Dick to go. That meant he had to play a little dirty. "We're too emotionally involved, we nearly died."

"Nearly dying is basically every other day for us, so don't give me that bullshit."

"Yeah, it is, but what happened to you terrified me!" Jason burst out, unable to contain himself. "I thought you were dead multiple times and I don't want to fucking deal with it yet, okay? I know if I go, I won't be fully on the ball and I am not going to give those fuckers the satisfaction of getting one over on me again!" He took a calming breath. "When I go after ZK12, I'm going to be prepared and I'm going to get them all ."

Dick looked guilty now, which wasn't want Jason had been aiming for with his sudden honesty. This whole conversation was exhausting him. "Dick, just take a step back, what if our positions were reversed? What if, God forbid, it was Roy or Cassandra or Tim who had just been through what you have? How would you feel about them going back?"

"I would be afraid," Dick admitted, after a moment clearly battling with himself. "I'd suggest they sat out until they were recovered."

"Right. And then you would hare off and do it yourself. I get that. But I'm not asking you to stop trying to bring these fucks down, just leave the fighting part to others until you are back to full functionality. There is a shit ton of research to do – we need to get the entire organization, and we know very little about their operations in Europe. Let's do this smart, okay?"

Amazingly, Dick nodded and hobbled forward to snatch the discharge forms out of Jason's grip. "Since when did you get all sensible and shit?" he asked, signing the papers with a slightly shaky hand.

Jason was even more sure he was doing the right thing by preventing Dick from throwing himself back into this particular fight. He was still sick and emotionally wounded, getting him to take care of himself was going to be a challenge and Jason suspected it was going to be up to him. Whoopee.

"I've always been sensible, you people are the ones with dust for brains," Jason said with a dismissive sniff.

"Oh, don't give me that, little brother, I can list a bunch of times you've been an idiot or just gone completely loco. I mean, the whole Murder!Batman shtick was pretty bonkers, and that one time you blew a hole in the GCPD to get at a guy in the lock up, then murdered him in front of the damn cops."

"I'll give you the times when I was actually out of my mind, big deal. And that guy abused four children that we know of so he deserved it. Other than those very specific occasions, I've been very sensible."

"You set fire to a nun," Dick said, smugly, as he took off towards the door with a wobbly gait.

Jason followed behind him, waving his arms in indignation. "I did not!" he said, hotly. "I set fire to some textbooks, the nun was accidental collateral damage, and it was just her habit that got a bit singed – no real harm done."

"That makes it okay then."

"Well, they never sent me back to that group home that's for sure," Jason grumbled. "How did you even find out about that?" It must have been from Bruce, the fucking traitor, although saying that – Bruce had been pretty forthcoming about the trouble Dick had gotten himself into during his years at the manor – the list of unfortunate incidents had been surprisingly expansive. He grinned. "If it's a competition between us, I can remind you of a fair few occasions where you have my indiscretions beat."

"Like what?" Dick handed over his papers at the front desk and leaned heavily on the wall, trying to pretend he wasn't exhausted from the short walk.

That didn't mean Jason was going to take pity on him. "When you were fifteen, you and Roy got drunk at a Wayne Charity Gala, and you pissed off a balcony and onto the guests having a smoke round back."

"That was Roy's fault!" Dick had gone a very fetching shade of pink.

"As I heard it, from Bruce , you knew exactly what you were doing. You managed to get a direct hit on Mr. Slate, the man responsible for signing the papers that had given the CPS permission to take you away from the circus and then for placing you in Juvie instead of proper foster care. So, tell me again how it was an accident?"

Dick looked sheepish, "I was was angry and drunk enough I probably would have done worse if Roy hadn't talked me down."

"Harper being the voice of reason? Wonders will never cease."

"Sort of reason, I did still piss on a bunch of people."

"Sounds like something I would have done, to be honest," Jason didn't bother to hide his admiration.

"You didn't have the monopoly on teenage angst and problems with rage, Jason. I was just lucky enough to survive mine." Dick winced at his own words and a frown began to form on his face again.

Jason wanted to reach out to him. He wished he had known that younger Dick, really known him rather than what passed for their relationship a few years later. They probably would have burnt the manor to cinders or razed the city to the ground, but it would have been cathartic - misery loved company after all.

"Well," he said, ignoring the shadowed look on Dick's face. "Your worst offence by far was when you crashed Bruce's 1954 Bentley when you were twelve and he grounded you for life. You should still be grounded."

"I thought because it was old he wouldn't miss it as much!"

"A classic Bentley, Dick, practically vintage! And you murdered it, that's sacrilege in car terms."

"Who did Grayson murder?" Ruiz joined them, still bruised but looking much better than the last time they had seen her.

"Bruce Wayne's car, a beautiful, beautiful car," Jason told her as Dick stepped forward to give her a tight hug.

"Don't be such a sap, Grayson," Ruiz said, her eyes suspiciously bright. "We have a long road ahead of us."

"Yeah. What are you going to do? You can't return to work while this is on going, it's too dangerous." Dick told her, repeating the exact thing Jason had just spent forty minutes arguing with him about. The man was clearly born to drive him crazy.

"I don't know," she admitted. "My family have gone to stay with my mother, so they are safe for the moment. I can't allow them to be at risk, but I don't want to give up this fight either. My superiors want me in witness protection, but we don't know if even that is going to be safe, they have people in the force."

"I know," Dick said, unhappily. "Look, maybe I can pull some strings, get you out the country for a few months. Both the FBI and Interpol have an interest in this case and keeping you alive to testify is going to be crucial for them."

"And how will you do that, Grayson?" Ruiz asked, sharply.

"Bruce Wayne has a lot of influence and a lot of cash. And he is going to be grateful you rescued his son," Jason told her.

"Which son?" she shot back and Dick's eyebrows climbed so high they disappeared under the ridiculous fall of his hair.

"What's this?" he asked.

"I told some bad guys I was Bruce's illegitimate son in order to stop them shooting me." Jason shrugged "I'm not, by the way," he told Ruiz.

"Hmm," Ruiz said, clearly unconvinced. "You're something to him though, and to each other. You don't risk the things you risked just for an acquaintance."

"He would," Jason jerked a thumb at Dick, who scoffed at him and made a face.

"So would you, you hadn't even met Ruiz and you helped me go back for her. At least I have the excuse that it's my job."

"It's mine too, In a manner of speaking."

"You're both idiots, is what you're telling me?" Ruiz said, with a wry grin.

"Basically," Dick agreed with an easy smile that was mostly real.

"And you both know each other from Bludhaven?"

"You are a relentless woman," Jason sighed. "Yes, we know each other, have done for awhile – I guess you could say I'm a PI, like Dick said, so our paths have crossed professionally. But we also know each other via-" he scrunched up his nose trying to think of a good description. "Mutual family," he finished at last.

Ruiz looked perplexed. "Okay, I'm not sure if that makes sense or not, but I'll take what I'm given, for now."

They headed towards the hospital entrance, where men in suits were waiting to take them to the airport. Jason really hoped the cover identity he and Dick had cobbled together for him held up under scrutiny. The internet connection had not been the best, or the most secure. Luckily they had access to some emergency pre-prepared electronic paperwork, provided for all of them by Alfred and Babs, to use when caught on the fly. Hopefully it was good enough to at least get them back to American soil.

They landed back in Gotham International at mid morning a few days later. All the debriefing had been grueling, but their story had held up. Neither they nor Ruiz had spoken much about the torture, just about the drugs and vague descriptions of beatings. They had agreed to keep Wilson's name out of it, just described him as some sort of private contractor fighting against the cartel who had helped them in the hopes of gaining information and cash. The story overall had been a little shaky, and there were some agents who clearly knew they were leaving stuff out, but the three of them held firm and stuck to their story.

Now it was time to go home and start recovering a little. That and put things into motion to get Ruiz to safety. She had balked at coming to America, but Jason figured they could negotiate with her to stay for a few months, or go somewhere else – Mexico or South America perhaps. Either way, they would make sure they had people to keep an eye on her wherever she ended up.

They stepped off the small private plane that had been provided for them to find Alfred waiting by one of Bruce's big grey cars, the winter sunlight hitting the bonnet like fireworks. Jason was torn between relief at being home and trepidation of having to face his family, even if it was just Alf.

He hesitated, he didn't want to keep his feet moving towards the car. either did Dick it seemed, he was tense and practically vibrating with anxiety as their boots hit the tarmac. And Jason couldn't leave him.

His warped sense of guilt and his over-protective instincts were going to fuck him up. But there was no way around it that he could see. His need to be there for Dick in some undefined way was going to take him right back into the jaws of his past, which was the last place he wanted to be after the few weeks they had just had.

"Hey, Alf," Dick said, with a tight and unconvincing grin. "Thanks for picking us up."

It was clear the fake cheer wasn't missed, as Alfred nodded a greeting. "Master Dick, I'm glad to see you home in one piece. Master Jason, a rare pleasure."

Jason flushed and raised a hand in a half-hearted wave. He had not been prepared for this, he should have been. But he wasn't.

If he thought that was bad, sliding into the warm interior of the car and coming face to face with Bruce was like a nightmare come to life. For years he had dreamed of bumping into him while in his underwear or other awkward situations. This was way, way worse.

He froze, staring at Bruce's impassive face. Dick followed him into the car, still exchanging platitudes with Alfred. He had clearly expected Jason to have moved further inside and sat practically on his lap, making them both jump in surprise. Dick tumbled back out onto the tarmac. Jason remained where he was, eyes no doubt comically wide.

Bruce looked utterly mystified, or at least there was a confused furrow in his brow which conveyed as much.

"Dick?" he asked, "are you alright?"

The deep rumble of his voice, so totally different from Wilson's smug tones, made feeling crash into Jason like high tide against the rocks. He was usually so much more fortified for any meetings with Bruce – but now he was so raw from everything that had happened, he felt like just being in the man's presence could break him apart.

Dick's head appeared in the doorway, he was slightly pink from embarrassment. "Hey, Bruce," He said, not meeting his eyes – always a fatal mistake. Instead he looked at Jason "What the hell, Jay? Move up."

Jason moved. Which left him facing Bruce in the broad interior of the car. He wished it was Batman there to greet them instead. He knew how he felt about Batman, wasn't so conflicted and full of doubt.

Dick slid in beside him and shut the door, taking a moment to fiddle with his seat belt, perhaps attempting to collect himself, as Jason was also desperately trying to do. He hadn't expected this either.

Bruce was impassive, but he was watching Dick carefully. He may not be showing anything on his face, but he was clearly cataloging Dick's slightly odd behavior. Jason in turn, watched him for any sign he was going to do anything to upset Dick. Bruce often struggled to express his concern in a helpful or constructive way, and instead went for bluntness, irritation or flinty silence. Jason was aware that in this, he and the old man were very much alike, and he hated it.

"To what do we owe this honor?" Jason said into the awkward pause, forcing the words out and trying his level best to keep his voice nice and even.

"You fell off the grid for a week. First Dick takes off for work," said with a surprising edge of scorn , "t hen I get the BPD knocking at my door saying he has been kidnapped, and to wait on a ransom that never came. I was concerned, ZK12 rarely return kidnap victims in good shape." He didn't sound concerned, he sounded like he was placing an order in the World's most mediocre restaurant. A clear sign he had probably been climbing the walls with worry.

"Why didn't you come rescue him then?" Jason snapped in spite of himself.

"Because I discovered you had also gone to Santa Prisca, and I decided the two of you together could probably take care of things, or at least let me know if that wasn't the case. At the time I believed no news was good news and you were both undercover. Was I wrong?"

And wow, to be giving that kind of trust, even in such a backhanded way, was so huge, so intense that Jason wouldn't know what to do with it on a good day. This however was not a good day. He had completely and utterly failed to do anything Bruce had put his faith in him doing.

He was surprised to find there were still new ways to feel completely crushed.

He sat mute and wide eyed staring at Bruce with his mouth slightly open, like a landed fish. What the fuck could he say? Could he say anything without having a complete emotional meltdown? He honestly wasn't sure.

"No, you weren't wrong," Dick said, his voice was thick, and he cleared his throat loudly. "I was careless and got caught, Jason rescued me. If he hadn't I might never have got out. They used a drug on me I'm unfamiliar with. We did have a look at the properties of it – Jason ran tests in the field to prevent side effects when he gave me antibiotics. We have all the data, if we run it through the computer in the cave I bet we can find trace hits in that people trafficking case from Gotham North last month – I wager that's what they were hitting the victims with and it wouldn't have shown up in any of the regular tests."

And with that, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted. But Jason suspected it was only superficial, he was still watching them both very carefully. Dick was now making a good show of acting normal, but it had been a shaky enough start that Bruce was clearly suspicious. And Jason was acting far from normal too despite his best efforts, he was usually so full of piss and vinegar whenever they had contact that his silence was probably an even bigger warning sign than Dick's awkwardness. At least Dick could pass his off at embarrassment for his 'stupidity' in getting caught.

Taking the blame for what had happened was such a typical Dick thing. A month ago Jason would have sneered at it, mocked and berated him for his dumb-ass martyr complex. But now, he was covering for Jason's mistakes and not only that, he was blatantly forgiving them.

It was intolerable.

Suddenly Jason's skin felt itchy, like there were insects made of doubt and shame crawling all over him. He couldn't breathe in the damn car, he had to get out.

As they drew towards the intersection at 23 rd and 12 th Jason unbuckled his belt. Dick shot him a wide eyed glance, but before he could say anything, they stopped at the lights and Jason threw open the door, practically falling onto the sidewalk in his haste to escape. He heard Dick calling his name but he ignored it and took off as fast as his throbbing ankle could carry him.

He was running on instinct, down familiar alleys and side streets, vaulting the fence at old Martins place and twisting through the doorway of the abandoned grocery shop on the corner . When he finally came to a halt, close to one of his shabbier safe houses, all he could do was sink to the floor and try to breathe. He honestly couldn't deal with this, with any of it.

Fuck, Dick was taking things better than him. He needed a drink, but failing that, he needed to hit the streets and beat the fear and confusion out of himself.

Evening found him pacing his safe house like a trapped beast. He was feeling terrible for abandoning Dick, and for the questions he had probably had to field on Jason's behalf. But the prospect of having to go to the manor to see him was not bearable , and unnecessary anyway. If he was there then he was safe and someone would be making sure he was looking after himself, but what was the probability of that actually being the case? It was far more likely he had gone home to Bludhaven like the annoying self sacrificing prick he was. And that meant that at best he would be moping and at worst, Nightwing would be preparing to hit the streets in an hour or so. And that was a recipe for disaster.

"Fuck!" Jason chucked his half empty can of beer in the direction of the sink. It wasn't helping anyway, and any more and he wouldn't be able to suit up and hit the roof tops, let alone drive to the Haven. Which appeared to be what he was doing, judging by the fact he was already out of the door, keys to his bike in his hand.

He justified it to himself as he drove, if Dick was there, he would need watching because he was a moron. If he wasn't in the Haven, then his patch was undefended and Jason would be more use there than Gotham, which tended to be rather saturated with vigilantes these days.

It was a completely logical course of action.

He decided to scope out Dick's shitty apartment from the roof of the chicken shop across the way rather than knock on the door. Most of the apartment seemed dark, except for the hallway and bathroom lights. He was fairly sure even Dick would have remembered to switch his lights off before going away on a long term mission. Probably.

He would just wait for a bit, and then head out, that way he could cover all his bases. Jason flipped out his binoculars and settled back to watch.

"Papa Bat teach you those manners? Spying is pretty invasive, you know," Dick said, from somewhere behind him, making Jason jump and cuss colorfully before spinning round to face him.

Dick was dressed in ratty sneakers, leggings and a big warm sweater. He looked like he belonged on the rooftop as much as Nightwing did, like he owned it. But he also looked like a slob, and leggings ? Really? Jason was surprised at the rush of warmth that overtook the embarrassment at having been caught stalking him.

"The fuck you wearing, Dick?" he asked, with as much of a sneer as he could put in his voice.

Dick looked down at himself. "What these? Running tights. They're warmer than slacks or sweats and better for clambering on rooftops."

"Uh huh."

"Whatever, at least I'm not hanging around on freezing cold buildings and spying on people."

"How'd you know?" Jason asked.

Dick's lips twitched. "Lucky guess. Although if I'm honest, this is the second spot I checked." He shrugged. "I figured you might want to check up on me, you've been bizarrely attentive since we got to the hospital."

"Yeah, well," Jason said, pointlessly. It was unnerving that he had been so transparent, even more so that he hadn't really noticed himself doing it. But he supposed all the hand holding and sappy shit had been a bit out of character.

"I have food inside, enough for two." Dick pushed off the building he was leaning against and started towards the fire escape.

Jason was slightly perturbed he had apparently been such a sure thing Dick had even planned to feed him. He got up stiffly and followed. "You didn't cook it though, right?" He asked as he swung down after Dick, who was scaling down the building effortlessly, despite his bad leg. "I've heard tales of your cooking, none were complimentary."

"Yeah, yeah," Dick said, "those stories have been greatly exaggerated. I'll have you know I'm a wizard with the microwave these days."

Food was actually spaghetti bolognese, and although the sauce was mostly from a bottle, it was a satisfying meal with the addition of mince and some frozen veg. The silence while they ate was companionable, and Jason felt at ease for the first time in far too long.

After dinner, Dick shoved the dishes into the sink and waved off Jason's offer to clean them, instead he ushered him through to the living room and sat on the big comfy chair, dislodging a small pile of dirty laundry and take-out menus.

Jason chose the sofa, which was relatively free of debris, he did find one of Dick's escrima sticks wedged behind the cushion, but that was the only offensive item. Dick flicked the TV on wordlessly, hunting thought he channels with a quiet determination. It was clear he didn't want to talk and Jason decided to give him his space.

"What horrifying show are you going to subject me to?" he asked, as Dick failed to settle on a channel.

Dick looked relieved, like he had been expecting Jason to insist on talking about things. Like he would.

"Dunno," he said, "maybe this documentary about mermaids?"

"Why the fuck would I want to watch that?"

"Because mermaids, Jason. Who doesn't love mermaids?"

Jason hid a grin and leaned back in his seat, shoving aside a stack of messy note pads with his socked foot so he could rest it on the small coffee table. Dick didn't seem to care about the abuse of his furniture and swung his own legs over the arm of the chair. Curling into his ridiculous sweater and twitching his feet like he couldn't keep still.

It occurred to Jason that although Dick had made a good argument for the leggings, the true reason for his choice of attire might be a little more complicated. They were the closest thing to his Nightwing suit in terms of strong figure hugging material he could possibly get away with. The suit was more than just a costume, it was wrapped up with so much self . A shield, a comfort, it represented strength and safety.

It was the same reason Jason was wearing his old battered body armor under his shirt.

Both of them were still struggling to deal with all that had happened and all that was to come, and Jason was genuinely concerned about what lay ahead for Dick, who followed in the family footsteps and tended to deal with the bad shit by ignoring it or self flagellating.

It was going to be a hard road, but right now there was a scene of calm, and Jason found himself enjoying the easy silence as Dick sniggered at the TV and jiggled his legs around annoyingly.

There would be time to deal with the crap tomorrow, or the next day. For now he was just glad they were both home safe.

- End