A Tangled Web

Dick flopped down onto the couch of his apartment in Bludhaven. The war between gangs in Gotham was still raging, between Harley, Black Mask, and The Arkham Knights who seemed to be striking at both sides from the shadows. But Nightwing was needed in Bludhaven. Since he'd been gone, the Falcone Crime Syndicate came back, again, like cockroaches and was stirring up trouble.

Dick also wanted to be away from Jason, because when he discovered that Roy and Jason were dating, it shattered his heart. Barbara had apparently told them to go for it, and he felt a bit betrayed, but he knew Barbara; she didn't play favorites. If she advised them to give it a go, it was because they'd talked to her about it first.

She tried to tell Dick to go after Jason, to push, to try before it was too late. But no, he was so afraid of pushing Jason away that he never tried, and now he was with someone else. And they seemed happy together. So Dick was glad to be back in Bludhaven, away from the object of his affection, away from the heartache. He still loved Jason and was happy he'd found someone he could love...but he couldn't be near him. He couldn't be constantly reminded that the object of his affection was unattainable.

Dick was exhausted after his patrol that night; the Falcones weren't the only problem Bludhaven was facing. In his absence, a new gang showed up, and one of the older ones assimilated a couple of the others, growing stronger. Bludhaven wasn't as bad as Gotham was currently, but it was getting there.

The acrobat heaved a sigh and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around his apartment and felt lonely. His time in Gotham, with his family his friends was making him realize now, how much he missed them all because he didn't have any family here in Bludhaven, and few friends. Bludhaven was an unforgiving city.

Something caught his eye and he looked down at the coffee table; sitting there where he must've left it, was a photo of him and Jason. Dick picked the picture up and looked at it. He had his arm wrapped around the then teen's shoulders, and they were both smiling, happy. It was a picture from their camping trip, just shortly before Jason...died.

Dick put the picture down, guilt welling up inside him, the memories coming crashing back down on him. After Jason died, he intentionally missed his funeral; he was devastated to learn that he was dead, that Jason, at only sixteen, had been killed. He and Bruce argued fiercely, said things they didn't mean, hurtful things. Dick blamed Bruce for Jason's death and Bruce said he ever regretted having a partner to begin with. They went without speaking to each other for a long time. Months even. Jason's death had torn a rift in the entire family, one that took a long time to mend. And then came the funeral...the funeral that Dick never went to, couldn't go to. The guilt of not having gone had eaten at him since, because he ran away instead of facing the truth, facing the facts...sort of like what he was doing now.

Dick sighed and tucked the pictured safely inside a book on the table leaning back and raking a hand through his hair. He knew that deep down, the gangs in Bludhaven were little more than a convenient excuse to leave Gotham, to avoid his problems, Jason and Roy, and yet...

His thoughts were interrupted when he phone went off. He sat up again and picked it up off of the coffee table, thumbing it open and putting it to his ear.

"Hey Bruce, what's up?" Dick asked.

"Dick. How're you holding up?" Bruce asked. Dick frowned at the question.

"I'm fine, why? Is this about the trouble in Bludhaven? Look, Bruce, just focus on Gotham, I've got Bludhaven handled and Gotham has bigger troubles, okay?" There was a silence from the other end that stretched on for half a minute.

"You're right. But if you need help-"

"It's fine Bruce. But thanks...for checking up. How're you and Tim doing? Overall, not just Gotham," Dick asked with a slight smile, leaning back on the couch. Another silence, and then-

"Is that Dick? Let me see the phone," he heard Barbara's voice. Dick swallowed hard because she didn't sound happy. In fact, he was pretty sure he was about to get an earful. No one knew him better than she did, afterall...

"Richard John Grayson!" Barbara scolded. Dick flinched at the use of his, proper, full name. He hadn't heard anyone call him that since he broke a chandelier in the manor...by jumping on it and swinging from it.

"I know what you're doing, Dick. Bludhaven is just an excuse. You know it, and I know it," Barbara said, her tone having softened a bit.

"Barbara, what-" Dick began, but she already seemed to know what he was going to ask.

"I needed help with a case so I dropped by the manor. Well, it's my dad's case. He contacted Oracle, so I'm helping," Barbara explained. A silence built up between them, in which time Dick flopped down onto the couch. He knew Barbara was right, and he also knew it was unlike him to run away from his problems, but-

"Jason Todd, adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, is alive," Dick heard from the television. His eyes widened as he saw a picture of Jason on the television. The picture was snapped from behind him, but his face was as clear as day. Jason was careful, cautious, when he returned to Gotham. And to top it off, he had only been a teenage boy the last time he was there. And he was supposed to be dead. How could anyone have known he was back? He, nor Bruce, or Tim, not even Barbara would have told anyone, because they all knew how much Jason hated the spot light, how he valued his privacy. So...how?

"Babs, turn on the television," Dick said, eyes wide as he slowly got up onto his feet.

"You're changing the subject, Dick," Barbara answered, but he could hear the tv through the phone, followed by "holy crap. Bruce!"

"Fuck!" Jason shouted, throwing the remote control across the room, the hunk of plastic smashing across the wall. He paced back and forth, raking his hands through his hair; the last thing he wanted is for Gotham to know he was both alive, and back in Gotham City. But he had himself to blame for it, and he knew it, because he blew it when he lost control and went after Drake.

"Calm down Jaybird, I'm sure it's not that bad," Roy tried to reassure him, coming up from behind the man and grabbing his shoulders. Jason growled and pulled away from the man, glaring at the tv, past Roy.

"It's Gotham. It is that bad! That bastard Drake blabbed. All because I was too damn stupid and angry to just..." Jason ranted, hands raking through his hair again, frustration building. And of course, the Red Hood couldn't touch him now, because that would be suspicious.

Jason retreated into the bathroom before Roy could offer anything else. He closed the door shut, locked it tight, then turned on the water and splashed his face. He leaned against the sink heavily, taking deep breaths to calm himself. But all that frustration and anger wasn't so easy to get rid of; he could still hear Drake's words in the back of his mind...

"Little Jason Todd, all grown up, thinking he's worth something!"

"You think mommy ever loved you?"

"She and Willis tries to sell you to me when you were born to pay for her drugs!"

"You were worth more as a sex toy than a drug peddler."

When next Jason looked into the mirror, it was as if he was staring back into his own past. He could hear Drake's voice, could recall all the times he'd been forced into sex as a child just to survive, just to avoid being another murder victim, to avoid being beaten within an inch of his life by the gangs. Raped, humiliated, beaten, forced to sell drugs, to steal, and it only made him angrier.

Jason let out a rage filled yell as he punched the mirror, cracking it, the pain in his fist and the bleeding going completely ignored as he punched it again and again. He could hear Roy just outside the bathroom, sounding worried, pounding on the door. And the tears he'd kept hidden were pricking at his eyes again, but he stubbornly refused to let them fall.

Finally, the door burst open, and he was vaguely aware of Roy beside him. He felt hands on his shoulders, heard Roy's voice, but not the words. Roy sat him down on the toilet and grabbed some tweezers, plucking them out of Jason's hand.

"Talk to me, Jay," Roy said while picking a shard or glass out. Jason had been sitting there passively the whole time, scowl permanently darkening his features. His being outed by the media had done nothing to ease his mood lately, compounded onto his confrontation with Drake...well...

"It's nothing," he lied, pitifully at that, and he knew it. Nothing didn't cause you to punch a mirror into dust. Roy snorted in response as he picked out the last shard of glass and grabbed the peroxide, dousing the injured hand and wrapped it up.

"Nothing, huh? Did nothing make you pulverize the mirror?" Roy asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. Jason looked down at the man, tending to his hand and sighed, raking his free hand through his hair again. When Roy was down, Jason slipped past him, back into the living room with Roy hot on his heels.

"I don't want to talk about it," Jason repeated the comment from a few nights ago. Roy rolled his eyes and grabbed the man by his shoulder again, stopping him in his tracks.

"Maybe you need to. I'm you're boyfriend for god's sake, and we've been friends for years," Roy said to him. Jason turned around slowly, expression blank. Roy shrugged and went on "we used to tell each other everything, y'know. Everything."

Jason grumbled to himself and flopped down onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. He scrubbed his face once or twice before he looked up at Roy who was sitting on the coffee table, waiting patiently.

"That guy, Steven Drake, he was the one who...used me...when I was a kid," Jason answered, eyes averting to the floor, gaze fixed on the wooden floor. He looked up at Roy and continued "he said some shit that...that got to me."

"He's a scum bag, mouth-breathing, sub-human piece of filth. Whatever he said to you is bullshit," Roy replied,crossing his arms over his chest.

"No. It isn't. I was trained by Bruce to detect bullshit, and what he said wasn't bullshit," Jason said evenly. Roy frowned, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward a bit.

"Well...what did he say? What's bugging you so much?"

"He told me...that my parents tried to sell me when I was born," Jason said lowly, looking up at Roy with a look that resembled that of a lost puppy. Roy was a bit taken aback by the revelation. He knew how much Jason's mother meant to him. Despite her addiction and being drugged up most of the time, from what he'd told him, she was actually a very loving mother. And so for him to hear this about her, he couldn't imagine how badly it must be fucking with Jason's head.

"My entire life, from the moment I was born, has been nothing but betrayal," Jason said in an eerily calm voice, eyes still fixed on the floor. He looked up at Roy and the man was a little startled to see his eyes watering. He'd never seen Jason cry as long as he'd known him. But as ever, the man stubbornly refused to let them fall. He simply dried them away and said "you, Dick, and Barbara are the only good things that've ever happened to me."

"What about-"

"Fuck Bruce!" Jason interrupted, jumping up off of the couch, his anger returning. Roy raised his hands defensively, but Jason ranted on "I fucking died and that bastard sent my killer to the one place he's escaped from countless times before! I fucking hate him."

"No you don't," Roy answered. Jason felt his anger abate slightly, because Roy was right; he didn't hate Bruce. But he was still really fucking angry with him. Forgiveness was still a long way off.

"Well, whatever," Jason muttered, turning around and making for the kitchen. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge and tossed it to Roy, who caught it effortlessly, then grabbed one for himself "I've got this disaster to deal with right now. And unfortunately there's only one person who can help me, since I can't well kill the media, damn parasites." Roy snorted, unable to contained his laughter at the comment.

"Feeling better already I see," he commented with a grin. Jason shrugged, smirk tugging at his lips as he flopped down onto the couch, stretching out over it.

"A bit, yeah. But tomorrow I have to go and talk to Bruce. This should be fan-fucking-tastic," Jason said flatly, chugging his beer.