Author's Note: I know I said that if I missed posting yesterday I wouldn't put this up until tomorrow, but I changed my mind. Take this long Jason-centric chapter as my apology for the delay. Happy reading!


Red Hood shuffled his feet impatiently in the darkened alleyway off Delaney Street. Nineteen minutes had elapsed since he'd left the others at the edge of his territory, and while he had no doubt that they would come he wished they would hurry up about it. He'd enumerated his contracts with 'no Batman' clauses in them while he'd been searching for clues two night earlier, and had found the number to be much higher than he'd initially remembered. If he was seen leading the cowled man around as if they were working together – which they weren't, he insisted to himself – it would lead to a fan-full of shit that he did not want to deal with.

Before he could begin to run down the list of pseudo-allies and informers he would lose if word got out about tonight's rendezvous, three pairs of boots touched down nearby. Jerking his head, he gestured them forward. The low, rusted door whose lock he had picked when he arrived opened at his touch. Thanks to the routine maintenance he gave the portal, there was no hint of sound as it swung inward. He waved them past him and inside, then paused. The rooftops and windows were empty; it seemed as if he had gotten away with smuggling three unwanteds into his zone of control. With a private sigh of relief, he ducked in after them and shut out the street.

A faint bulb flickered on above him once the door was closed. He let his eyes skate over the figures he'd brought in and wondered once more if he was making a mistake. I'm not helping them, he swallowed. I'm helping Nightwing. It wasn't much better, but he could live with that more easily than he could with the idea of giving assistance to Batman or one of the replacements. "Down," he ordered. "All the way."

They descended, Batman at the front, Red Hood in the rear. He could see how tight Red Robin's shoulders were, and the sight made him smirk. Glad to see you finally learned to be afraid of me. Just don't forget it. His smile drooped into a frown as Dick's voice crowded his head. 'What did he ever do to you, little brother?' the eldest had asked him long ago, his expression confused and saddened as he'd taken in Tim's battered form and the blood dripping from Jason's knuckles. '...No one loves you any less because he's here now, too. I know you know that. C'mon...can't we just all play nice?'

He couldn't, though. Part of him knew that he didn't hate Tim for himself, even if the younger man was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, but rather for what he represented. I hadn't been gone for six months, and you were already training to wear my mask. His lips twisted. That really wasn't Tim's fault – who could blame him for wanting to be Robin, after all? – but rather Batman's. How could you let him take my place so fast? His gaze flickered to the pointed ears leading them deeper and deeper beneath Gotham. You enacted no revenge for what happened to me, and you let some...some nerd have my place without even a decent period of mourning. It was like he'd never mattered to the man...

They were all thoughts he'd had a million times before, but that didn't make them any less bitter now. Still, this wasn't the time to act on the ire that smoldered eternally in the pit of his stomach, so he repressed the urge to kick Red Robin in the back of the knees and send him tumbling down the stairs. There wouldn't have been a good opportunity to do it anyway, as the little one kept sending glances back at him. Smart brat, he grumbled, annoyed but able to appreciate suspicion in one so young. I suppose that's why partly why Nightwing likes you as much as he does...

The steps ended at a long hallway. "Go left," he directed. Batman paused, then did as he'd been told. There were puddles underfoot now, invisible against the dark concrete. They made it impossible to keep silent unless one had the path memorized, and that was exactly the way Jason preferred it. In the event that anyone ever penetrated his subterranean interrogation chamber while it was in use he would have ample warning of their approach, time to prepare to fight or a head start to his flight. That had never happened, but it paid to be prepared and to keep one's secrets secret. With that in mind he joined the others in splashing through a few pools as if he hadn't known they were there, not wanting his soundless steps to give away his familiarity with the route.

A wide room opened up before them. Against one wall lay a bruised and battered man, his eyes popping above a dirty gag as he watched them emerge from the dark tunnel. Soaked with nervous sweat and a fair amount of his own blood, he shivered in the dank air. The way his arms and legs were hog-tied behind him made him look a bit ridiculous, but the obvious break in the bones above one bared wrist verified the scene's reality.

Batman stopped and looked back at Red Hood. Sensing a hint of judgment in his hidden stare, Jason pushed roughly past him and approached the prisoner. "This is Nate Westing," he sneered. "Don't pity him just because he looks like the pile of trash that he is."

"What did you do to him?" Red Robin asked, sounding a bit appalled.

"What needed to be done." The miens of the others remained stony, and he scoffed. "Weren't you listening before? He's part of the reason Nightwing is missing!" Drawing out a knife, he slashed through the cloth cutting across Westing's mouth. The man jerked in fear as the blade went past his face, and as a result a thin line of red welled in its wake. A cry escaped him. "Stop it," Jason commanded. "Tell them what you told me." All that came was more whimpering. "Tell them," he threatened, "or you're useless to me. You know I don't have time for uselessness"

"No! No," a pathetic whine sounded. "Please...I..." The beaten figure's feverish gaze fell onto Batman. "Please, Mr. Batman...if I tell you...if I tell you what I know...you won't let him kill me, will you? I swear, it's not my fault, I was just doing my job, I got a baby to feed and I can't...please, don't let him kill me!"

An uncomfortable beat passed. When Batman made no response, Jason snorted. "Whose territory do you live in, Nate? Mine. Not his, mine. He has no control over what happens here tonight, or tomorrow night, or every other night of your life. The only people here who can affect that are me...and you. So start talking, or there won't be any future nights for you to worry about. Got it?"

"I...I didn't mean...it was just a job..."

"Talk!"

"My baby's been sick," Westing blubbered. "I needed money for medicine. I've got a job, but it's barely enough to live on. I needed more, for my little girl. Friend of mine...friend of mine said he could hook me up. Said it'd be real easy work, just one night. All I had to do was carry something from the roof of a building down to the street and put it inside the back of a truck. Didn't say what it was, but the pay was good, you know? So me and another guy, we went and waited on the top floor of this place, like we'd been told. Other guy had a radio. We waited a while, then there was this little thump, like somebody'd dropped something on the roof. The radio went off, and we went up.

"I didn't know we was supposed to move a person," he appealed, his words watery. "I almost backed out, but...I needed that money, and I was afraid they'd shoot me. They all had...guns..." He peeked at the pistols adorning Red Hood's costume and gulped. "I didn't have nothing, you know? I was just there to move things. But Nightwing...I wasn't expecting to be grabbing hold of his ankles and carrying him down the stairs. Wasn't expecting that at all. I-"

"You recognized him?" Batman interjected.

"...Seen him around. Reckon everybody knows all you all, you know? Even if you don't come around here as often as-"

"Keep going," Jason snarled. Don't you dare tell them that you've seen him around here before. If the fact that Dick came by on occasional visits wasn't already known to Batman, he didn't want it to become so.

Westing flinched. "Uh...well, I knew who he was, anyway. So we carried him, and we put him in the truck. Except it wasn't a truck, really, it was more like an ambulance. There was words on the side, but I couldn't read them. Didn't recognize the colors, neither, but the inside sure looked like an ambulance, had the bed and all that. Thought it was funny there was no one in the back with him. No one even came out of the front to help. We just chucked him back there and shut the doors. Then it left, and I got my money and left. That's...that's all I know, honest. Honest, that's it, so please, don't kill me-"

"Was he alive?" Batman queried unsteadily.

Jason's throat tightened. He hadn't dared ask that when he'd first interrogated Westing; had the answer been no there wouldn't have been anything but a body left for cross-examination, and that wouldn't have helped his credibility any. He was determined that when Nightwing was found no one would be able to say that he didn't keep his promise, so he'd bit his tongue. Now he leaned forward, curious. Say yes. Don't tell me the risks I've taken lately have all been in vain. Don't tell us that he's dead, you bastard.

"Well I ain't no doctor, Mr. Batman, but...I don't think he was dead. They kept saying to hurry, like they wanted to get him somewhere before he woke up."

"'They'...who hired you?"

It hadn't seemed possible for the man bound on the floor to grow any more frightened-looking, but he managed it. "I...please, I can't...they'll kill me..."

"They're not here right now, are they?" Jason leaped back in. "But I am. Answer the question." Knowing that Nightwing had been carried downstairs unconscious and put in the back of something that may or may not have been an ambulance told them almost nothing about where he might be. They needed more, and he would get it one way or the other.

"Oh, god...please...I've got my baby to take care of, please, she needs me-"

"Answer. The. Question."

Westing burst into tears. "He's gon' kill me, don't you see? He's...gonna...gonna kill me..."

"Who?!"

"I-ivory J-j-jack. Ivory Jack's the one that paid me. He...he was the boss."

Jason's eyes narrowed. Ivory Jack was a procurer, and a good one, but he wasn't the sort who came up with jobs of his own. If Ivory Jack was involved, then this had been a scheme with more than a couple levels of control. "Who hired him?"

"...He didn't say."

Red Hood launched a boot into his captive's side. "I didn't ask who he said hired him, did I?"

"N-no. But..."

"But what?"

"I can't say it. I won't say it. It ain't worth it."

"Really?" Moving before the men massed behind him could react, Jason slashed through his prisoner's binding, yanked him to his feet, and pressed a gun to the underside of his chin. "How about now?"

"Hood!" a rough warning sounded from over his shoulder. He ignored it.

"...No, sir." Westing's mouth trembled as he refused. "I can't."

"You already gave up Ivory Jack. You're already in shit with the people who set this up. You don't want to be in shit with me, too."

"I know I told on Ivory Jack. I know he's gonna want to kill me if he finds out. But..." A few fresh tears rolled down the man's swollen cheeks. "But you and Ivory Jack, you'll be kind. You'll kill me quick, if you decide to kill me. Jack's boss...Jack's boss don't make anything quick. Jack's boss – Jack's boss' boss, more likely – he likes to make people scream." He shook his head. "I ain't going out like that, all cut to ribbons or lit on fire or fed to dogs by a crazy man. If I'm gonna die, I'd rather it was a quick, easy gunshot. So if that ain't enough for you, Mr. Red Hood, then I guess you'd better shoot me. Least I know you won't go after my baby girl when I'm gone. You ain't like that; you leave the kids alone. You let them grow up. She'll be all alone in the world, but at least she'll be alive. Can't say as he'll leave her that way if he finds out I said his name to you. No, sir; I won't say it out loud."

For a moment Jason didn't move. No further protest came from the figures to his rear, but he slowly let Westing fall back down to the damp floor anyway. "...You're sure about the person who hired Ivory Jack?"

"I'm sure I don't want him to be the one to kill me."

He studied him for a second. Fucking poverty, he winced. If Westing had had the money for his baby's medicine, would he have ever gotten mixed up with Ivory Jack? He clearly knew a fair bit about the movers and shakers of Gotham's underground, but that was to be expected when one lived their whole life in the same neighborhoods as gangsters, thieves, henchmen, and procurers. This man had never crossed his radar before tonight; he was no criminal. He was just a man trying to get along as best he could in a cruel world that had offered him no advantages in life.

It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for having put a gun to his head.

Now came the hard part, though. How could he possibly be allowed to live? He would be a loose end, a mouth through which Batman's presence tonight might be made known. It could only lead to trouble, trouble much worse than what would happen if he blew off an innocent man's head in front of three sworn non-killers. His hand twitched upward a few inches, then fell back to his side. He has a baby, he thought. He said she'd be alone without him. This isn't her fault any more than it is his. He grimaced and turned his pistol around in his grip. "When you wake up," he growled, "you're not going to remember any of this. Right?"

A gleam of hope came into the man's gaze. "Not a thing," he swore eagerly.

"You got mugged. You don't know by who, just some guys. Several of them. They beat you up, took your money, and left you on the ground. That's all you know. Got it?"

"I got it, Mr. Red Hood. I got it. Thank you-"

His grateful words cut off as he was smacked into unconsciousness. "...Don't make me regret this, Westing," Jason whispered as he wiped a bit of blood from the butt of his weapon and replaced it in its holster. "Just don't."

Batman was beside him suddenly. "You won't," he said. There was something strange in his voice that a little part of Jason desperately wanted to believe was pride. Their shielded stares met for an instant, and if a hand had landed on his shoulder just then he wasn't sure he would have shaken it off. "We'll help you carry him out to the street."

"No," he refused roughly, turning his head away. "No. You've heard what you came here to hear; now get out of my territory."

"Hood-"

"I said get out! Don't you have other places to be?!" Batman had surely discerned who Westing had been talking about with his comments about dying horribly; what was he still doing here after all of that? Don't let that fucking clown do to Dick what he did to me, he begged. Even if that was the only thing that might truly make his former mentor regret not having killed the Joker in revenge years earlier, it was too high of a price. Not Dick. "Get out!"

"...Fine. We're going." He turned away.

"Batman!"

The cowled figure halted. "...Yes?"

"Don't...don't take the stairs. Go straight down the tunnel until you come to a left turn. Take it, and the third pipe on the right after that will come up on your side." He paused. "...Don't come into my zone again. You're not welcome here."

"...I understand. And Hood?"

"What?"

"I meant what I said before. You won't regret this."

With that he was gone, stalking past the other two and into the dark corridor. Red Robin hesitated for a moment, then followed Batman out. When only Robin remained, Jason snapped impatiently. "Well? What is it?"

The teen tilted his head to one side. "...You're lucky it wasn't you who did it, Hood," he said flatly. "Assuming that this story checks out...be glad it wasn't you." Then he retreated without turning his back and melted away into the shadows.

When he was sure he was alone, Jason slumped against the wall and sank down to the floor. I did what I could, Dick. I helped. I kept my promise. He'd risked everything tonight, and even with the others on their way back to central Gotham there was still a good chance that he would lose his bet. Despite that, he couldn't quite manage to regret having made the wager. They'd gotten a lead on Nightwing out of it, after all, and Batman…maybe that really had been pride in his voice.

A tiny sob escaped him. Goddamn this family, he choked. Goddamn this city. Hot liquid fled towards his chin. Goddamn the Joker. His fist bounced off of the stone beneath him. Just...goddamn all of it. Goddamn it all...