Jason Todd

"You have exactly 10 seconds to tell me what the plan is to stop those fuckers from killing Dickie before I take matters into my own hands, Bruce."

That was probably not the best way for me to start a conversation, but I've never been one for subtlety. Or sugarcoating.

"Sit down, Jason." Bruce steepled his hands in front of him and looked at me, unfazed.

"I'll stand." There was no way I was going to take a seat and have some drawn-out, rational discussion while Dick was in danger. While they hurt him, put their fucking hands on him…

Made me sick to even think about it.

"We will bring him back. On that you have my word. But the situation is more complex than you realize. We can't move until the time is right." Bruce kept his voice even and level, like he was soothing a wild animal. Maybe he was.

"So, what?" I shook my head angrily, suppressing the urge to lay him out right there. "We sit around doing fuck all until you decide it's go time? Every single goddamn day he's locked up with those sadistic freaks is a day too long."

"And you know as well as any of us do, Dick can handle it. He's far more capable than you're giving him credit for." Bruce stood, his own anger seeping out of the cracks of his solid, stony foundation. "Has it occurred to you that he may already have his own escape plan in motion? And any attempts on our part to rescue him may jeopardize his chances at survival? Of course not. We can't act on impulse, Jason. It was dangerous before, it's deadly now."

Eye to eye, we stood inches apart, fiery rage between us.

"There's more to it, too." Babs cut in, cautiously attempting to lance the growing tension. "We have to wait, Jason. Until after the Tribunal."

"Why!?" I was absolutely incensed. "That's a week that he has to live through whatever torture they have lined up for him."

Another week that he has to sit alone and believe that I'm not coming for him.

Bruce reached out to put a steadying hand on my shoulder, but I pulled away. He narrowed his eyes before answering, "Tribunals are a propaganda tactic. Detainees are moved to a local courthouse to give the appearance of an actual legal proceeding. Instead, any misdeeds or mistakes are exaggerated into horrible criminal acts, justifying capital punishment. But the name 'Nightwing' still commands a significant amount of respect from citizens and heroes alike."

I contorted my face into an expression that was half confused, half furious. "You'd better get to the point soon, Old Man. I'm running out of patience."

"You want it simple? Fine." Bruce was at the end of his rope too, and everyone else in the bunker winced as he deepened his voice into a growl. "Do you really think we're the only group fighting against Luthor? Nightwing's Tribunal will be a rallying cry. None of the heroes left on Earth will stand idly by while he's painted as a villain and then executed. A united front is the only chance we have at wresting control of the world back from Lex Luthor."

"So that's the plan?" Now I really did feel sick. "You use him for your own little propaganda show and hope we get to him before they string up his mutilated body for the world to gawk at? And if he escapes before his debut as your political pawn?"

"Then we all breathe easier and carry on. But if he doesn't, if he can't, we'll make sure whatever they put him through means something." Bruce sat down again, with finality, and turned away, engrossing himself in some schematic.

Tim took that as his cue to chime in, "For what it's worth? From a tactical standpoint, the Tribunal's going to be the only time we'll have enough access to him to mount any sort of useful rescue. Blackgate is too heavily guarded. And with most of the Enforcers down for the count after our last play, we can use the time between now and then to get supplies and get ready. It's the only strategy that works. Anything else is suicide."

I shook my head. "I fucking hate this."

All I could think about was Dickie hurt, alone, scared…

Who was I kidding? He had more guts than brains, and he was no slouch in that department, either. He was probably pissed as hell.

Didn't mean I was any less worried.

Fuck. Leave it to Dickie to turn me into a goddamn softie.

— — — —- — —

Before

Forty-nine hours we spent, huddled in Dick's ugly-ass bathroom, after the bombings in New York and DC. Two days of vacillating between obsessively checking our phones for updates and distracting each other from panic as best we could - 'anything goes' style. Gotham was a major city, after all. It was only a matter of time before we would end up vaporized, enveloped in fire and pain. But that particular end never materialized.

As the second day came to a close, our cells pinged simultaneously - an update from local Emergency Services.

"Outdoor radiation levels in Gotham City and surrounding areas have reduced to safe levels. Shelter-in-place precautions are no longer in effect."

Dick grinned and sighed in relief. Leave it to him to be optimistic after Armageddon. But his good mood wouldn't last. We cracked open the bathroom door and were greeted by pervasive shadows that filled the apartment. The windows were coated in thick, gray dust. His smile turned to ash as our new reality settled in. It really was the end of the fucking world. At least as far as we knew it.

He opened a chalky window and peered out. It was nearly noon, but you'd never know it looking at the sky. Instead of bright sunlight, or the unrelenting overcast that Gotham pollution often caused, it was eerily dark. Like twilight, with the barest of light peeking through from the edges of the horizon, reflecting back against clouds of soot.

I could hear his breath hitching in sobs he was trying to swallow as he watched other horrified people venturing outside, their feet kicking up clouds of powder. It would have looked peaceful, like fresh snow, if it weren't for the terror filled sobs that echoed in the streets.

Dick tried to hide it, but he was shaking. I reached out to him, pulled him back against my chest, surprised to feel him relax into the embrace. I hadn't held out any hope that our tryst would continue if we had the misfortune of surviving the apocalypse. I was sure it was nothing more than desperation and fear driving him to find a physical release. But with him in my arms, pressed against me, boneless and trusting?

Maybe that's what home felt like. If not, it was the closest I'd ever gotten. I squeezed hard, suddenly terrified of losing that feeling, losing him. He inhaled sharply, but didn't move, and I was distantly aware I was digging my fingers into his arms.

He didn't protest. Instead, he whispered, low and reassuring, "I know Jay. I'm scared, too."

— — — —- — —

After

"We have six days before Dick is taken before the 'Tribunal'." Babs unrolled our only map and uncapped a red marker. "Our intel about the site of the 'trial' is limited, but from previous broadcasts on the GNN we know it'll be a local courthouse, probably whichever makes for a better, more recognizable backdrop." She drew three neat circles and tapped the pen shut. "It could be any one of these, though it'll most likely be the Eastside District Court building. It's closest to Blackgate and they won't want to transport him farther than necessary."

I was only half paying attention to whatever mind-numbing briefing they had cooked up. It wasn't relevant to me. There was no fucking way I was going to let Dickie rot in Blackgate so that Bruce could use him. Again.

While the others were engrossed in their scheming, I was packing a bag. Some first aid supplies, food, water and the like. I was going after him whether Bruce approved or not. I caught Damian glaring at me, arms crossed, so I shot him a look that I hoped said 'mind your own fucking business'. Undeterred, he broke away from the group and strode over to me, haughty and arrogant.

"What are you doing, Todd?" He kept his voice low and glanced over his shoulder, checking to see that we weren't overheard.

"I'm going out." Short and simple. And not a lie.

"You're planning to rescue Grayson. I want in. If only to save him from your feebleminded bunglings." He peered into my bag and sneered. "Is that all you're bringing?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. Why?" Not like I actually cared.

"Unlike some people, I actually watched the entirety of Grayson's abuse." He frowned at me, letting the razor sharp words cut before continuing. "You seem to be laboring under the delusion that he will be able to be an equal partner in his escape. Given the extent of his injuries, and the severe concussion he likely sustained, he will be dead weight, and will require more first aid than…" he pulled out my meager supplies and scoffed, "Six gauze pads and some tape? Is this a serious rescue attempt or just a show of bravado, Todd?"

"Keep your fucking voice down," I hissed. I wanted to be pissed at him, but he was right. I hadn't even considered that Dick would be hurt too bad to help. That maybe they beat him enough that he was already dying…

Keep your shit together, Todd.

"Tt. I should cripple you to keep you from endangering Grayson further." Damian tilted his head, as if sizing me up. "However, I have no intention of allowing those miscreants to lay their hands on him again, and I will require assistance to bring him home. You will be adequate."

"Good to know you think so highly of me, brat." I rolled my eyes, stuffing any feelings of fear as deep as they would go, "We leave tonight, got it?"

"No. Tomorrow. First light. I'll gather a better complement of supplies this evening." He spared me a final look before rejoining the others. "I have faith that Grayson's fortitude will last at least that long."

Please, God. Let him last that long.

Because if he doesn't… can't…

I don't think I can, either.