Jason Todd

"I want to know where you were and how you found Duke. Right. Now."

Damian and I weren't kowed by Bruce's rising temper. I kept my head down, anyway. Not because I was scared, but because my chest ached too much to talk, and maybe if I looked remorseful I wouldn't have to.

You left him. You left him. And with as bad as he looked… even a fighter like Dickie won't beat those odds.

Damian, however, stood toe to toe with the Old Man, nearly matching his height with his shoulders back, imperious expression solidly in place behind his upturned nose. "We attempted to rescue Grayson."

"You what?! After I expressly told you to wait?" You could almost feel everyone in the bunker shrink as Bruce growled. "Do you have any idea what the ramifications of your insubordination might be? What your impatience could cost us?"

"You left us with little choice, Father." Damian's voice held an air of disdain that nobody else could match. "You know as well as I that Grayson's condition would only deteriorate in the coming days. Todd and I were unwilling to gamble his life for a folly notion that this Tribunal will lead to anything other than his brutal execution. No one is coming to help us. Our only choice is to help ourselves. And you're a fool if you think otherwise."

Bruce tightened his jaw. The muscles and sinew beneath his skin looked taut enough to snap. He and Damian stood in silence, tense and inches apart, neither backing down.

Minutes ticked by like that, both of them refusing to relent. Finally, Cass sighed and put her hand on Damian's chest. "Sit."

The kid rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. At least he had the common sense not to pick a fight with Cass. She turned to Bruce and signed 'sit down' abruptly. At first he refused, and she shot him a withering glare. "No fighting. Family."

Bruce finally backed away and collapsed into a nearby chair. He let out a shuddering sigh and glanced over at the medbay where Alfred was trying to asses Duke's condition. The kid was completely gone, and his knees were drawn up to his chest as he rocked back and forth slowly.

"Duke was in Blackgate this entire time." It wasn't a question, more a remorseful statement, and Bruce shook his head, clearing it. Trying to take everything in. "So you rescued Duke, but couldn't get to Dick?"

"We didn't rescue jack shit." Suddenly I was a bundle of tight, painful fury. Behind his now-calm expression, I could see the blame settling in, and I was not about to let him point the finger at Dami and me for actually trying. "By the time we got there, Dick was already out the door with a whole load of survivors. Duke included. We just loaded them up and brought them to the mainland, then took them to one of Damian's supply cashes a few blocks away."

Bruce's eyes were wide, and I watched the cogs in his brain turn. It was like he was trying to glue a shattered vase together, but he didn't have all the pieces.

He finally settled on a single question, "Why didn't Dick come back with you?" I could see him holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

"There were additional detainees in the complex. Grayson and Todd..." Damian looked at me and I suppressed a wince.

Dick kissed me. In front of Damian. And he's going to tell Bruce - exactly what Dick was hoping to avoid.

Then he continued, shaking his head at my obvious discomfort with a look that said he would keep our secret. For now. "Grayson insisted Todd and I continue on without him, and that he would follow behind once the detainees were released. However, his physical condition was very poor - if he encountered resistance he wouldn't have been able to fight back. Given that he has not returned, it's reasonable to assume he was captured again. Or killed."

Bruce nodded once, calculating behind his cold expression. "They're going to use him as propaganda, 'captured' is more likely."

"I'm going back for him." Without thinking I turned to leave and felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. Tim.

"If we move too soon, he dies. Game over. You got lucky last time. We're all worried about him. We all want him back. Everyone just needs to hang on a little longer."

Angrily, I shoved Tim's palm away, "Fuck you. Fuck all of you. This is Dick. For fucks sake, he would light himself on fire if he thought it would keep any of us warm for even a minute. But you're all good with some half-baked plan that will probably come too fucking late."

Somewhere behind my terror-filled rant, I could feel Cass quietly staring at me, through me. Like she could read the subtext. Hell, knowing her she probably could.

I promised to protect you Dickie. I promised and I failed. And I'm so fucking sorry.

— — — — — —

Before

Safe is a very relative term. In the bunker, under the stadium, smashed together in the tiny space with the remaining members of our fucked up 'family', we were supposed to be safe.

Physically safe, at least.

But it soon became very fucking clear that tons of steel and concrete couldn't protect all of us from having our souls crushed.

Two weeks. It had been two fucking insufferable weeks trapped in our hidey-hole, making nightly excursions to poke at the nest of Enforcers on the surface. Our twisted motivation was the nightly 'news' - a macabre display of the latest 'insurgents' to face execution. We were like trained dogs. As soon as the jaunty jingle crackled in over the speakers of our communication rig, we all gathered around, postponing any preparations for the nights activities.

It was a perfunctory ritual, so rote we barely paid attention. Disturbing, how quickly people can get used to something so fucking brutal.

I only snapped out of my distracted half-listening when I felt Dickie tense beside me at the words "we are pleased to bring you a message from Inspector Lubach, stationed at Iron Heights Penitentiary in Central City."

In the early days, live executions like this were rare. Usually they just displayed a list of everyone "purged" from society. But it quickly became obvious why this was a special occasion.

The screen faded in on a battered Wally West, The Flash, tugging against his bonds, inhibitor collar firmly locked in place. Keeping him captive and his abilities suppressed.

Dick was shaking his head in horror and disbelief. Because we all knew what came next. He was about to see the murder of his best friend in real time. I reached for his hand and squeezed, careful to avoid anyone's suspicious glares. Not that it was hard. Everyone was transfixed by the atrocity on the screen.

I leaned into his ear and whispered, "You don't have to watch this, Dickie."

Eyes wide, he didn't look away. Just exhaled a quivering breath and replied, "yes. I do."

I don't think anyone really heard the monologue they used to justify murder. It didn't matter. When the droning stopped, Wally gave one final, pleading look into the camera. Then it was over.

Part of me was grateful it was quick. Shot to the back of the head. Means of execution was always left up to the monster in charge, and most of the time the victims suffered. But I guess they didn't want to fuck around with a meta like Wally. Or maybe this Lubach guy was marginally less screwed up than his contemporaries.

Yeah. Right. Fucking psychos, every one.

As the newscaster once again faded into view and continued his talking points, Dick staggered back with a white knuckled grip on the remains of his composure. The rest of the family offered sympathetic looks, or a pat on the shoulder, then returned their attention to the grainy screen. Nobody else noticed as he slipped out of the bunker. Nobody but me. And I wasn't going to let him suffer alone.

I waited a beat to give him space, a chance to catch his breath, then I slipped out too, expecting to find him just outside the door. But he was gone.

Shit. Forgot how fast he could be.

Thank fuck he wasn't hard to find. At least for someone who really knew him. Just look in the absolute tallest point available - Dickie only ever felt at home close to the sky.

The last of the grey cast of sunlight had fallen below the horizon by the time I had clambered up on top of the press box where Dick silently sat, his legs dangling off the edge and his eyes fixed on the smoggy, starless sky. Carefully, I sat down next to him, choking on the feeling that I needed to fill the wordless quiet with useless fucking platitudes.

I listened to his breathing. Measured and intentional, and I could almost hear him counting his inhales and exhales, doing his damndest to keep it together. With a sharp break in the pattern, still looking into the distance, he whispered, "You were right. You were right about everything and I wouldn't listen."

I turned to look at him, silencing the question on my tongue. Dick needed to get this out, to talk. There would be time for me to reassure him after.

"We're not making a difference," he continued. "They just keep killing and killing, and nothing we do stops them. It's hopeless, and pointless, and…"

A sob broke through the stone wall he'd hastily built around his heart. Then another, and I pulled him against my chest as he fell apart. He wrapped his arms around me, and I stifled tears of my own. I'd never heard him sound so shattered before.

Years and years of the anguish he'd stuffed down finally made it to the surface, and we stayed up there for what seemed like hours. I just cradled him as best I could, guarding him against the icy wind, whispering into his hair, "I know. I know. I've got you…"

After a while his chest stopped heaving, his breathing evened again, and I tilted his head up, nuzzling away his tears. He sniffled and pulled away, shaking his head and wiping at his eyes with balled up fists. His voice was shaky and raw as he choked out, "I'm sorry…"

"Don't. Don't you dare say that. This world is fucked and brutal and you, more than anyone, deserve a chance to let it out. To grieve everyone we've lost." Just to drive the point home, I tangled my hand in the front of his shirt and pulled him to me, giving and taking a kiss we both needed. He tensed for a split second, then surrendered.

With as much gentleness I could manage in the heat of our need, I pressed him back against the frigid cement of the press box roof, letting my weight and my hands reassure him in the physical language Dick seemed most fluent in.

I'm here. You're safe. And I'm not going anywhere.

— — — — — —

After

I stood, feet glued to the floor, as my angry words died in the too-small space. Too scared to move. Too furious to stay still. Paralyzed by grief and indecision.

But not for long. Because the blaring of a perimeter alarm pushed everyone into survival mode, and my rage was swept under the rug. For the moment.

"I have three heat signatures on the sideline terrace. They don't seem in much of a hurry, though. It's like they're searching for something." Barbara leaned in, squinting at the screen, cursing under her breath at the lack of a video feed.

Bruce rounded on me and Damian, furious all over again. "You brought intruders to our doorstep. This is precisely why I wouldn't sanction a rescue attempt. You may have doomed us all with your selfish disregard for orders."

My temper flared again, and I pushed forward, ready to shut the Old Man up, no matter what it took. 'Cause I'd be damned if he called me selfish for trying to save Dickie.

"We can all tear each other's throats out later," Selina snarked, effectively shelving the confrontation as she lithely stepped between us. "For now, we have visitors to welcome. And I say we roll out the red carpet for them."

Cass nodded solemnly, and the two of them grabbed some gear and headed for the door with Bruce trailing behind.

"I'm coming, too." I grabbed Bruce's arm and dug in my fingers, making it perfectly clear this wasn't a request.

"Absolutely not. You and Damian have broken my trust. If I can't count on you to follow orders, I can't count on you in the field." Without another word, he slammed the door shut behind them.

I snatched the handle, ready to storm after them, but was stopped by Damian, who leaned on the door, trapping me inside.

"As much as I am loathe to agree with him, Father is right." He tilted towards me to whisper, the words sharp in my ear, "Whatever your relationship with Grayson is, it has compromised your judgement. You are a liability in the field. I would never have agreed to assist you had I known your emotional state would cloud your actions. We failed, Todd. Perhaps it's time to listen to orders, lest we make the same mistake again."

I snarled, but stepped back from the door.

"Besides," he crossed his arms over his chest, "If Father falls in combat, our services will be required to rescue Grayson, according to their plan. He needs you to keep your head."

I felt guilt wash over me.

What the fuck am I doing? Gunning for a brawl? Maybe I am selfish. Because Dickie is going to need me. And I won't let him down again.