A/N: Lots of borrowing from the Batman: Under the Red Hood movie.
Dick let out a long sigh, resting the vodka bottle on his stomach, loosely gripping the neck to stop it from tipping over. Between the adrenaline rush from fighting alongside Batman and the alcohol, he was so calm that the whole apartment could have exploded and he would have barely batted an eye. The television was on, turned down to the point where it was barely background noise. He found he could only stand the clear sound quality of the television when he was rather drunk. The couch, which he usually found rather severe and unforgiving under his weight, felt soft and inviting. Even the harsh lighting didn't bother him at the moment.
The whiskey was long gone and Dick had downed half the vodka already. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was going to end with his head in the toilet if he didn't slow down, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The buzz was seeping in, filling his head with cotton and smiles. The TV was playing some old 90's sitcom that had probably been around longer than he had. The alcohol in his blood nudged him to laugh at the ridiculous jokes that normally would have prompted him to throw his shoe at the screen.
Dick usually kept his drinking under control after an unfortunate incident in Mexico involving a drug dealer, the guy's girlfriend and too much tequila. But right now, with nothing to do but wait for other people to connect dots and play their hands, he didn't have anything better to do other than get drunk and join in on all the canned laughter.
The show cut to commercials and Dick rolled his eyes, tipping more vodka down his throat. He could barely feel the burn anymore, or the stinging from the sword slice. Once the drink hit his system in earnest, he probably wouldn't be watching any more TV. Watching the inside of the toilet was more likely.
He checked his watch as it ticked over to the next hour. He heard the far-off sounds of an explosion and smiled quietly to himself. Between the assassins' failure and the blowing up of Black Mask's office that had just occurred, he wouldn't be surprised if Black Mask was already pushing his plans along.
Dick pulled out the disposable mobile phone he'd purchased the other day. He usually kept it switched off, not that it really mattered since nobody had his number, but in his current state of inebriation calling Wally to apologise for their confrontation seemed like a good idea. It had been weighing on his mind ever since it happened.
He dialled Wally's number. Numbers, particularly phone numbers, had been one of the things his brain had taken a while to retrieve after his resurrection. His mind had been shattered, forcing him to reconstruct his memories piece-by-piece over the space of several months. It was a wonder he'd survived out there in that state.
Wally picked up, yawning. "Hello?" His voice was soft and sleepy and strangely… sweet. Dick froze, everything he wanted to say falling out of his head. This was a bad idea. This was a bad idea and he was never drinking again.
"Hello?" Wally repeated, sounding more awake. "Who is this and why are you calling at three in the bloody morning?" Dick's heart was in his throat. "Dick, is this you? Or are you just some creepy stalker who's gonna start breathing heavily into the phone any moment now?" Dick was still frozen. "Look, okay, if this is you, Dick, I'm… sorry. You know, for getting mad at you the other day. I don't know what's happened to you and if you don't want to talk about it, I'll respect that, but you don't have to handle this alone. All you have to do is go home. I miss you, dude. Everyone misses you, and it's killing me that I can't tell them you're okay. I know you said you have stuff to do, but I'm sure Bruce would be happy to—"
Dick hung up, bringing the phone down with a shaking hand; he couldn't do this. Wally was just so earnest, and it was carving a hole in his chest. He turned off the phone and shoved it under the couch cushions, jamming it in enough that he'd have a hell of a time getting it out even if he was sober and in full control of his faculties.
Calling Wally had been a dumb idea. Now Dick was hurting in his chest and his throat and he was shaking all over. He downed the rest of his vodka and curled up on the couch, waiting for it to kick in and bring him blessed oblivion, at least for a few hours.
Black Mask looked at the gaping hole in the high-rise building that had once been his office, his assistant and planner, Ms Li, standing beside him. Her tailored suit was coated in a fine layer of dust but she stood tall and dignified as always, even though she had been on the floor below when the office had exploded. The rest of Black Mask's henchmen were still running around in a panic. He just wanted to reach out and grab them all by the throat and smack some sense into them. But there were more important issues at hand, like the fact his office had just been blown up.
"The explosives were detonated on the hour," said Ms Li. "Nobody was in the office at the time. I would say it was lucky, but—"
"Luck had nothing to do with it." Black Mask rubbed at the point where the wooden mask had fused with his face. Seeing the last of the flames lapping at the building made it itch. After all, the mask had been burned onto his face in the first place.
"The Red Hood was clearly making a point after today's failure," said Ms Li. "Both he and Mama Bear are still alive and well."
"He's laughing at us." Black Mask let out a groan that sounded closer to a breathless roar. "You wanna tell me why this guy ain't dead?!"
"We're trying, sir." Ms Li didn't seem rattled by her boss's outburst. "The boy has proven… elusive."
"Huh." Black Mask scowled at his panicking henchmen. "So, we got a mini-Batman on our hands, do we? One who doesn't mind the blood?"
"No, sir, he's no Batman." Ms Li consulted her clipboard, which she had somehow managed to salvage from the ruins of her office, which had been right next to Black Mask's. "He's still taking huge cuts off the streets. But it seems he's trying to eliminate the competition now, rather than scare them into joining him."
"You don't say?" Black Mask replied sarcastically. "Why hasn't Batman wiped this little smear off the face of the planet?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to," Ms Li suggested. "Perhaps he's letting you and the Red Hood… 'war it out', so to speak. He could be waiting to take on the winner."
"What do you think this is, woman? A tennis tournament?" If Ms Li hadn't made herself so indispensable to his operation…
"I'm just saying—"
"You're an idiot… and you don't know Batman. He's not letting this lunatic run wild. He can't catch him either. Or it's something else…" Black Mask heard the sound of approaching sirens and dragged Ms Li off the street. The firemen would be too preoccupied with their jobs to pay them any mind. "Can't you feel it? We're stuck in the damn crossfire." He rubbed the point of fusion between his neck and the mask again. "Time to change up the ground war, Ms Li."
"How so, sir?"
"I'm being forced into negotiating with a psychotic if I ever want this kid out of my way."
"That doesn't sound good."
"No. It's going to be a nightmare." In his frustration, he drew his gun and shot down his closest henchman. The rest of his mooks quit their panicking at last. Good. He needed these losers to back him up. Damn the Red Hood for taking all his good thugs when he commandeered half his operation.
Paying off the Arkham guards was easy, although Black Mask's task force had to shoot another guard who wasn't in the know and wouldn't leave his co-workers alone. Black Mask stepped over the man's corpse and into the dank hallway.
"Does he know what's going on?" his team leader asked the guard who had keyed in the security code.
"Knows he's leaving," the guard replied, shrugging. He was remarkably unfazed by the bleeding corpse a mere few feet behind him. Black Mask kind of liked that. It took a special kind of asshole to not bat an eye at that kind of stuff.
"It's gonna be a sleepover, right?" the Joker said, pressing his face against the narrow strip of wired glass on his door. "I packed my toothbrush."
With the destruction of Black Mask's office, he had to hold the meeting in a small room on the ground floor of his building. The room was white with a grey metal table, like Arkham but cleaner, really. The fluorescent light above them flickered intermittently while the Joker munched on a packet of chips one of Black Mask's people had given him.
"I hope you understand the trouble I've gone through to arrange this little get-together," said Black Mask. "A lot of money. A lot of dead meat." The Joker stared at him wordlessly, throwing another chip into his mouth. Black Mask had never seen somebody look less impressed while eating junk food. "Look," he continued awkwardly, "I've got a problem… and you are absolutely the man who possesses the gifts to take care of this… problem. I need you to murder the Red Hood. You think you can handle that?"
The Joker swallowed and let out a delicate cough. "May I have some water?" The Black Mask gestured to the man by his side, who filled a glass from a pitcher and handed it to the Joker.
The Joker surveyed the water in the glass for a moment, before he slammed it against the edge of the table. He then slashed the man's throat with the jagged edge of the broken glass, barely blinking at the blood painting his face, and grabbed the gun out of his holster. He let the man fall, twitching, and shot the other four henchmen in the room. Ms Li cringed behind Black Mask, who was frozen in his chair. The Joker aimed the gun at Black Mask, his face cracking into his typical grin, before a small giggle escaped his lips. Then a snort. Then a cackle. Then a high-pitched screech of laughter that seemed to go on for an eternity. He lifted the gun, quieting down again.
"You done?" said Black Mask, unimpressed.
"I'm going to need something to wear," the Joker said, tugging at the collar of his white jumpsuit. "And a very big truck."
"Sure. Anything else?"
"I'll need some guys." The Joker swept his arms around the room, having seemingly forgotten the gun he was holding. "Not these guys because, well, they're kind of dead." He started laughing again and Black Mask resisted the temptation to grab him by the throat. There was no way in hell they were going to be able to negotiate further details tonight.
Batman landed on the roof of Ra's al Ghul's clifftop palace. He sent his jet flying off to wait out of sight and lowered himself onto the terrace, easily taking out the two guards in his vicinity. The long flight had not tempered his rage. He was still shaking with it, choking on it, drowning in memories.
Two more guards taken out. He reached the sliding glass door. He let himself inside and down the stairs and through a door, which he locked behind him. Ra's al Ghul was standing by the window in his usual long green robe, his grey-streaked hair sculpted into two sections on his head like horns. Batman grabbed the man by the neck and slammed him facedown onto the floor.
"What did you do to Dick?" Batman growled, twisting the man's arm behind his back. "Act like you don't know what I'm talking about and I'll dislocate the shoulder. That's just to start."
Ra's let out a groan. "If you haven't disabled the roof sensors," he said, his voice strained from the pain, "my guards will be here in under a minute."
"Answer me." Batman pulled Ra's' arm tighter, cracking the joints enough to make the man twitch beneath him, groaning in pain.
"I'm willing to!" he ground out, turning his head to the side so he could see Batman from his position on the floor. "But it will be more expedient if you hand me the communicator in my pocket and I call off my men."
Batman considered this for a moment, ultimately deciding to give in. He needed to know what Ra's did and the only way that was going to happen was if he followed the man's instructions. He fished the communicator out of Ra's' pocket and held it in front of his face.
"Commander, this is Ra's al Ghul," said Ra's. "Stand down. I will be entertaining a guest in my study." Batman let him up, tossing the communicator to him.
"Now talk," Batman said, his patience barely hanging by a thread.
Ra's walked over to his desk and poured himself a glass of wine, knowing better than to offer Batman any. "You remember when we last became embattled?"
"You were planning to blow up banks," Batman said disapprovingly.
"Accurate, if inelegant." Ra's sipped his wine, watching Batman over the rim of his glass. "I was in the midst of toppling the economy of Europe, but you were onto me. I sought a distraction, so I hired the Joker." Batman could almost envision the Joker in his purple suit, standing across from Ra's in whatever meeting place they had decided on, grinning widely, already planning how to make sure he was the only person who came out on top in this situation. "When your paths crossed in Bosnia, it was to appear you had stumbled upon him."
Batman could recall clearly the frozen, grinning faces of the dead guards and doctors and nurses as he and Dick raced through the hospital, urgency pressing them onward. Batman had thrown open a storeroom door to find the Joker and his goons emptying boxes upon boxes of pill bottles into their sacks, the Joker grinning at the new arrivals. The goons had engaged Batman while Robin went for the Joker, smacking down one of the masked goons on the way. As he watched his henchmen fall, the Joker had fled, Robin chasing after him while Batman handled the last of the opponents. When Batman made to follow them, one of the goons recovered and managed to knock him out for a short time.
"He was paid extremely well for what was intended to be a wild-goose chase," Ra's continued, staring into the innards of his wine glass. "Then… he murdered the boy. That was not by design."
Batman remembered the explosion, being mere seconds too late, digging Dick's broken body out of the wreckage, holding him close, hoping… praying for some sign of life. Anything. The moment had not felt real, even as Dick lay silent and still in his arms.
"I'm afraid I overestimated my ability to control the Joker," Ra's said, setting his wine aside if he had suddenly lost his taste for it. He looked up to meet Batman's eyes. "Just as I underestimated his madness. It grieved me, sir," he continued heavily, "to be a party to something so brutal."
"You've never shied away from drawing blood," Batman replied, his eyes narrowing behind the cowl.
"True… but always with purpose. Always with greater goals." Ra's' expression darkened. "This was simply an unnecessary casualty. As penance, I chose not to make war with you again and… to attempt to rectify this disservice."
The word lodged itself in Batman's throat. He took a moment to pull it out, during which his mouth hung open until he could finally talk. "Rectify?!"
"Yes," Ra's replied, taking on a rather resolute expression that would normally have prompted Batman to reach for his utility belt. "I had hoped to return to you what you had lost. I have walked this world for nearly six centuries. As you know, I achieve this by bathing in the rejuvenating waters of the Lazarus Pit." Batman was starting to feel nauseous about where this conversation was heading. "Along with its healing properties, it has long been rumoured that it is capable of an even greater feat: to raise the dead."
Batman balled his hands into fists at his sides. He knew what Ra's had done and it made his skin crawl and bile rise in his throat. He had once witnessed Ra's' rejuvenation in the Pit; it was not a memory easily forgotten. The thought of Dick being subjected to the agony, the madness…
"Procuring the remains of your partner was not difficult," Ra's said, his tone becoming more businesslike and straightforward as he turned to the enormous window. "You had come to Bosnia under the guise of Bruce Wayne and you chose to depart as such. You even concocted the cover story that young Richard had died in a bombing in Sarajevo. This made it easy for me. All it took was a few payoffs to replace his body. I felt confident that you would not perform an autopsy. Even if you had, we still would have bought enough time. But, my plan…"
Batman waited for him to continue, frowning about as deeply as was humanly possible.
Ra's turned back to Batman, frowning a little himself. "Well, detective, it had unfortunate results. He returned to this world, but returned… damaged." Ra's closed his eyes for a moment, apparently lost in the memory.
Batman's mind conjured up images of the Pit, of Dick's body being swallowed in its bubbling, green waters. He bowed his head at the weight of his thoughts, torn between wanting to know every single excruciating detail of what happened there and shutting his mind out to the possibilities. It would have been agonising, disorienting, terrifying for the poor boy. He had only been thirteen, for God's sake!
"In short, he escaped, leaping off the cliff nearby," Ra's said finally. "My army searched for months, but we were never able to find a body or pick up a trail. I thought him dead yet again. But I hear you have been having trouble at home." Batman raised his head. "I have returned your son to you as a blight upon your house." Ra's turned away towards the window again, but not before Batman caught a glimpse of an agonised expression. He slipped away, having heard enough. "He burns the very kingdom you…" Ra's noticed Batman was no longer in the room. "…protect."
Ra's pressed a button on his communicator and one of his assistants entered the room. "Shall I alert the guards to pursue him?" asked the man.
"Don't be foolish," Ra's snapped. "They would never catch him. Besides… I have done enough."