Without Dick - as the only witness – a picture of the meta, or even some sort of speech to run voice recognition on from the recording, Bruce had come to a slump pretty early on in his investigation after his eldest son had gone missing. The billionaire, surprisingly, gave them all of the information he had been able to gather – or, rather, all the information Barbara had, who had been going out of her mind to find her friend, or boyfriend - or whatever.

Admittedly, the amount of information they had on the meta was despairingly low. Barbara had tried her best, scouring through traffic camera footage for hours, apparently. But Nightwing had followed the meta from the rooftops, far above the cameras, so she could see plenty of people, but had no idea who Dick had been tailing.

All of Batman's tools and minions couldn't find the meta, but all of Bruce's good intentions and worried-father routines were in no comparison to the determination and conviction of a wronged Jason Todd.

"It feels good to be out with you again," Dick huffed as he swung between the rooftops, adding, "If I'm now slightly taller."

"But I'm still taller," Jason scoffed, before he can stop himself. He didn't know why he was suddenly engaging in some light-hearted, childish banter with Dick, but he reluctantly admitted, to himself, that it felt good, easy.

"You know, I won't suddenly forget that if you fail to remind me," Dick sighed, and Jason can't help the small smirk that graced his lips at the sound of the petulant tone.

Jason doesn't want to respond, and the silence that settled between the two was soft, and comfortable enough that he didn't need to. They were headed towards the place Dick remembered waking up as a child.

Jason couldn't recall the last time he had been in Blüdhaven, but he remembered why he never bothered to come back as he swung over the littered streets. The air above the city was grey, and gloomy, and Jason felt the atmosphere cling to his skin as they entered the city, but it must have been all in his head, because Dick moved just like he did when in Gotham, unchanged in his approach.

Dick suddenly dropped, and Jason quickly pulled his line, skidding on the rooftop as he came to a stop. He glared down at the street where Dick was waving up at him, and even the distance between them couldn't prevent Jason from seeing the older man's blinding, mocking grin.

With a growl, he dropped down to the street beside him. Safely shrouded from prying eyes in the shadows of the streetlights, he punched the smaller man on the upper arm. "You always did that as a kid, too. Used to scare the shit out of me."

"'Used to'?" Dick repeated, tongue in cheek, but he darted way before Jason could land a harder, more lasting punch.

Wondering why he had ever agreed to helping the man, he grudgingly followed Dick where he had slipped through an old, rusted, metal door. The room was empty when he entered, and he felt his forehead tighten as he inched forward with a gun held loosely in his hand.

"Nightwing?" he hissed through his teeth, eyeing his surroundings warily.

"Over here, Hood."

Tracking the man's call to where he stood, Jason prepared to let rip on him. He knew that Dick was far from reckless, not when it mattered, and the man could take care of himself, but the last time he had worked with someone, it was a kid, and that feeling of wariness and protectiveness was hard to overcome – especially when he saw so much of that kid in the man next to him.

But Jason didn't start, because as he rounded the corner, he realised why Dick had his escrima sticks out, and why he was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, ready to attack. His gun was up and aimed at their opponent's eye before he had even had a chance to think.

His skin was dark and coarse, like freshly-turned earth, or newly-ground coffee beans. He had broad shoulders that strained the material of his blue shirt, and they tapered down to his slender waist, ending with bulging, muscular calves that practically screamed athleticism. His face was wide, with whisky-coloured eyes that reflected the light, and his lips held a dirty scowl, but, to Jason, he seemed apprehensive, and hesitant.

At the sight of him, Jason froze. His eyes widened, and he slowly lowered his weapon. He couldn't stop himself from breathing, "Fuck."

He must not have been as quiet as he thought he had been, because he saw Nightwing eyeing him out of the corner of his eye, still faced towards the enemy. "Hood?"

But Jason couldn't speak, because there wasn't enough air, and it felt like the world had flipped itself over without knowledge. He gulped, swallowing around the lump in his throat, and hit Dick lightly on his arm, catching his full attention. "I know him."

"In all seriousness?" Dick asked, but it was said without the usual underlying tone of humour, and without his usual teasing. He was solemn, and tense.

Jason couldn't bring himself to laugh, because he felt vaguely sick. He didn't answer, and he stepped forward with his hands up peacefully. He easily slipped out of Dick's reach as the older man grabbed at him, trying to stop him, and ignored his loud protests. He stepped forward, maintaining eye contact, but stopped when the other man's breathing suddenly grew heavy and laboured, strained.

"Jasiah?"

The man seemed startled at his name being called, and Jason watched as his muscles bunched up, tensing. Jason felt Dick shift behind him in preparation, but nobody moved, and Jasiah didn't speak. The tension in the air was palpable.

"Hood, that's him. That's the guy," Dick said, and when Jason turned to look at him, his brow was furrowed, and he seemed nervous, apprehensive. Jason remembered the pain of the age-reversal, and couldn't blame the man for being anxious in the face of the cause of it.

Jasiah shifted where he stood, and although his words were meant to be biting, they came out with a vague undertone of relief. "I see that you're big again."

Dick scoffed. "No thanks to you," he paused, then asked, "Why did you do it?"

"You were following me. I had to do something."

"By turning me into a child?" Dick asked, incredulous.

Jason tensed as Jasiah growled low in his throat, but he seemed more frustrated at not being understood than threatening. "I didn't want to kill you. I only wanted to kill Nightwing."

"Why?"

"No one can find out who I am."

Dick nodded towards Jason. "Too late, apparently."

That got Jasiah moving. As if reminded, Jasiah's eyes flicked over to Jason, before coming to rest on Dick once more, this time with a look in his eye that made Jason raise his gun swiftly. But he was too late, because sparks flared from Jasiah's fingertips and turned solid, like a coiled rope. Dick cursed, but had no time to move as the crimson rope snapped out and wrapped itself around his neck.

Jason didn't pause. He pulled the trigger, and watched as another tendril shot from Jasiah's hands to deflect the bullet and rip the gun from his hands. Growling, he snatched up Dick's escrima sticks that he had dropped and started forward but stopped when Jasiah spoke.

"You take one step closer and I'll snap his neck."

Jason stopped dead in his tracks, because he was inclined to believe him. Dick was off the ground, lifted by his neck. His hands scratched desperately, uselessly, at the rope around his neck as his feet kicked out wildly. Jason felt sick at the sight. He held up his hands peacefully, but his eyes were narrowed in anger to the point where he could barely see, and he could see his hands were shaking.

"How do you know my name?" Jasiah asked, calm, but demanding.

Jason didn't answer him. "Let him go, Jasiah."

"Only if you tell me-"

"Let him go."

At the low, snarled shout, Jasiah paused. Jason could see the other man, could see how he had only lashed out in desperation, like an injured animal crowded into a corner, but it didn't make a difference, because he could also hear Dick, and how he was choking, his legs losing their energy as his vision blinkered black. Jason felt for the other man, he really did, he knew what it was like to have nowhere to go, but Dick was his first priority.

Recognising that he had a window of opportunity, he pushed. "Jasiah, please. Let him go, and we can talk."

After a moment of Jasiah eyeing him, the other man nodded. He brought Dick back to the floor, and loosened his grip around the man's neck, but didn't let go. Dick didn't seem to care, and Jason winced as the older man sucked in a painful-sounding breath, wheezing and coughing, rasping.

Jason relaxed slightly, and reached out towards Dick, but before he could touch him, a current ran from Jasiah's hand to Dick's neck, and the older vigilante tensed, before he began to seize. It was as if he were a live wire, snapping and jerking due to an electric current. Then, the rope retreated from around his neck, and he fell to the ground, lifeless.

It had only been a matter of seconds, but, to Jason, it had been an age as he had watched with dawning horror. He skidded to Dick's side and rolled the older man over, hands fluttering around his body before he snapped back to his training, checking his pulse – which was, thankfully, there, and strong.

Jason had never felt such rage in his entire life. He reached into his boot and pulled out the small pistol he hid in there, and stood, placing himself in front of Dick and facing Jasiah, who was watching back impassively. If Jason had been looking, he would have seen the remorseful look, or the hesitant glint in his eyes. But Jason didn't care, Dick was lying at his feet, and he didn't see the regretful look on the other man's face.

"What did you do to him?" Jason snarled, sharp and biting as he trained his pistol on the other man.

"I just knocked him out, I swear," Jasiah said, and this time, he was the one to raise his hands peacefully. It was all show, because Jason knew that a gun would have no effect - Jasiah could protect himself from a few pesky bullets - but he felt better gripping a gun than standing there with nothing.

"Why?" Jason snapped.

"This is a conversation between us, and us only," Jasiah said calmly, and when Jason didn't respond, he continued, repeating, "How do you know my name?"

Jason found no point in lying. "Your mother, Betty Jean."

Jason watched as Jasiah froze. The other man lowered his hands, eyes wide and wondering. He cleared his throat, as if choked up, looking at his feet, and shook his head. He looked back up, and smiled thinly, hesitantly. "How is she?"

Jason scoffed, lowering his pistol slowly. "Like you care."

"I do -"

Jason snapped. "She thinks you're dead, Jasiah!"

"It's better for her!" Jasiah suddenly shouted, and Jason could see how he was trying to convince himself, as well as the vigilante. He continued, softer, "It'll be easier for her."

"How can you say that?" Jason asked incredulously. He shook his head. "You haven't seen her. She misses you so much, she can't-"

"Look at me," Jasiah said, and he didn't shout this time, but he cut off Jason as if he had. Jason couldn't help himself from being startled by the self-loathing, and the pleading tone in the quiet words. "I can't let her see me like this."

So, Jasiah's meta-abilities hadn't developed until now, and something had obviously happened to make them occur in this way. Jason found himself softening slightly, and he asked quietly, "Why? How did it happen?"

"It doesn't matter-"

Jason cut him off. "It does. I can help you."

"Why?" Jasiah scoffed, "Because you're the Red Hood?

"Because I have contacts," Jason said. It wasn't exactly true, his contacts with the Justice League had been thoroughly terminated when he had returned from the dead, guns blazing, but he knew Bruce, and hopefully that would suffice. "Contacts that can help you to control your powers."

Jasiah paused, and Jason sighed internally as he saw the hesitant look on his face. But, to his surprise, Jasiah just said, "Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes," Jasiah confirmed, then he said, "But you can't tell ma."

Jason immediately shook his head. "What? Jasiah, no, you have to tell her-"

"No."

"Why not?"

Jasiah snapped, shouting, "Because she'll blame herself, alright?"

His words echoed in the small space, and eventually settled between them uncomfortably. Jason didn't say anything, but he raised his eyebrows, uncomprehending but inviting understanding. At the sight of his expectant expression, Jasiah shook his head.

"My dad, he used to be in the criminal business," he started, quiet, his eyes fixed on the floor, "Little jobs – B&Es, robberies, that kind of thing. He never got caught, so he got cocky, went bigger and he eventually made a name for himself," Jasiah sighed, and scrubbed a hand over his face, continuing quietly, "So much so, that the Joker caught wind of him."

Jason froze.

Not seeing Jason's suddenly rigid stature, Jasiah went on. "The Joker roped him into his master plan, and he left us, joined that madman's army of minions, and hundreds of people died because of him – all because of the Joker, but my dad was a part of it."

Whenever the Joker was brought up, how he had ruined people's lives, or ended them, Jason felt a weight in his chest sink lower, and grow heavier. So many lives – too many.

A thought dawned on Jason, through the fog in his head, and he nodded his head slightly, finally understanding. "That's why you became a cop."

"Yes," Jasiah said, repeating, "I can't let my ma see me like this."

"Why not?" Jason asked.

"Because she'll blame herself," Jasiah said, almost pleading, begging Jason to understand, "She already blames herself for da – we needed the money, we were broke, so she pushed him to aim bigger and he got too sucked in because of it."

Jason knew what that felt like, what that desperation and hopelessness felt like, knowing that there wasn't enough money to last to the end of the week. He knew what that feeling made people do, he knew what that feeling made people capable of.

Jasiah continued, quieter. "I can't let ma see me like this, because she didn't want me to turn out like he did, so she was the one that wanted me to become a cop, and if I wasn't a cop, I wouldn't have been there that night, the night that this happened to me."

He let a few sparks fly from his fingertips to prove his point. He looked up, and caught Jason's eye. "She'll blame herself, and I can't let that happen."

After a moment, Jason nodded quietly. "Okay, Jasiah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, I'll leave you alone, but I'm gonna get you help, alright?" Jason said, and it was suddenly imperative to him that Jasiah knew how not alone he was, important for Jasiah to know that Jason understood him, that Jason would help him. "I swear to you, Jasiah. You'll see Betty Jean again."

For a moment, Jasiah looked like he was about to cry, his eyes welling up and the fact that he was sniffing tellingly. But the other man just conjured up a shaky smile, and he nodded. "Thank you, Hood."

Suddenly, Jason's mouth was open, and he spoke. He hadn't been planning to, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he couldn't bring himself to regret it as he watched Jasiah's face brighten slightly. "I've been where you are, Jasiah."

"Really?"

"Perhaps not in the exact same way," Jason said quietly, hesitantly. He grimaced, continuing, "But I know what it's like to feel like you can't return home."

Jasiah eyed him, but didn't press the issue, didn't ask. But he shifted, and after a moment, asked softly, uncertain, "Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Return home?" he clarified.

For some reason, Jason's eyes were immediately drawn to Dick, who was drooling slightly. He grinned unwillingly at the sight, and he could feel his own gaze softening as he eyed the unconscious man. Silence settled between them, but it was suddenly broken by his soft admission, almost whispered.

"Yeah, I did."