April 8th
0037hrs
Gotham Skyline
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Jason demanded beneath his red helmet as he grabbed Robin roughly by his shoulders. "Do you have any idea what we thought happened to you!"
Nightwing was at Jason's side, just as pissed off. Probably just as scared, too. It was unconscionable what Tim had pulled, and that Roy had helped? When Jason got back to his own hideout, he'd cripple his other fucking leg! He would! He didn't care how much he liked Roy these days, this was not to be fucking tolerated.
Jason felt Nightwing's hand on his shoulder. "Hood, I agree with you. You know that. But settle down."
Rage and fear collided within Jason's mind as he turned on Nightwing with violent intent. "He could have died! He could have died the same way I did!"
He didn't know what to do with his hands. He wanted to strike someone. Wanted to feel someone's life in his hands. Especially with Black Mask all but standing next to Robin, snickering and snarking about how close history had come to repeating itself in Gotham City.
Nightwing must have sensed Jason's inconsolable fury because instead of provoking him into a fight, the blue and black clad superhero raised his hands. "You're right. You know you are. We all do."
A movement of black and orange caught Jason's attention and ire as he faced the giant next. "What the fuck happened to our arrangement? How could you have allowed him to get captured?"
Deathstroke leaned in close, a threatening growl rumbling under the man's body armor. "How long have you, Arsenal and Nightwing been hiding Robin's presence here in Gotham?"
"What?" Batman's shocked voice came from behind him, and Jason didn't know which of his mentors to give his attention to. Thankfully, it sounded as if Batman found his own target and focused on Tim. "We agreed you were to stay out of Gotham until I sent for you!"
Robin finally spoke up. "I couldn't watch my family fall apart. I had to be here, and it worked, Hood. You know it did."
Jason shook his head. "No. No, he ain't dead."
Black Mask stepped into Jason's view. "What's the matter, Freak? Afraid of what you'll do without your revenge? Afraid of what it means if this Robin did the one thing you couldn't?"
"Shut the fuck up!" Jason shouted.
"No way. Not this time," Black Mask taunted as he stepped up to Jason. "You're unworthy. Incapable. Needing Deathstroke to babysit your psychotic ass while Batman and Nightwing take care of the real threats. You failed. Robin is just fine!"
Jason blinked as Nightwing took the place of Black Mask. "He is, and it sucks that things turned out like they did, but it's for the best."
"Look at me, Red," Deathstroke ordered, and Jason turned his head to see the assassin take off his mask. "Keep your eyes on me. Who did you see? What did you hear?"
"I…" Jason hesitated because he didn't know. One minute Black Mask was saying some fucked up shit and the next it was Nightwing. Mid-sentence and everything. "I think—"
A sharp needle jabbed Jason's neck.
"Ow! What the fuck, Batman?"
Black lunged and a flash of orange collided with it. Jason blinked and tried to orient himself, but by time he did, Batman was hunched over while Deathstroke kept in a defensive crouch, ready to continue their battle at a moment's notice.
"It's the antidote," Batman answered with a clipped tone that bordered on sounding frantic. "We need to get you all out of here, now."
Jason stepped even further away from Batman and the others. "Antidote for what?"
Nightwing and Robin both moved to Batman on Jason's left while Deathstroke remained on the right. He felt kind of strange, but he also knew something really bad was about to happen. He assumed at first he'd been sedated, but his heart was pumping too quickly.
"I told you I'd give it to him when he got back to his base," Deathstroke hissed with menace.
"He was having another episode. They get increasingly worse, in case you haven't noticed," Batman growled. "Red Hood, you need to come back with us to the cave so we can help you detox from Scarecrow's toxin."
Had Jason heard that right? Scarecrow? No… that dude had been locked up, hadn't he? Why was his head hurting? And he was thirsty, so fucking thirsty. He yanked his helmet off as he struggled to breathe. It felt like his entire body was burning up. Batman had injected with… well, whatever the fuck it was, it felt awful. Jason stumbled back toward Slade.
"Let me see your eyes, kid," the taller man said quietly and made eye contact as he grabbed Jason's jaw. His eye left Jason's face as he looked toward the Bat Clan. "What the hell were you thinking doing it now?"
"That toxin is meant to drive him absolutely mad, Slade. It could kill him. He needed the antidote," Batman insisted and the confidence in his tone actually made Jason feel a little better. That was until Jason dropped to his knees as his head became weightless. "We'll take him back to the cave—"
"Not happening," Slade snarled, and it had been a long time since Jason heard Deathstroke so angry. "He's coming back with me. You don't get to poison him and then try to make it better."
"You're one to talk. How long have you been changing out the Fear Toxin cartridges, Deathstroke?" Batman accused.
"B… What's going on?" Nightwing asked.
Jason's head started to hurt something fierce, and he could barely concentrate on what was being said. Sweat was starting to bead along his face, his neck, and his back. He felt like he was going to vomit. Fuck he hated being so much lower than Slade.
Still, he had to focus. He had to get back on his feet and just focus.
He took the offered hand of Deathstroke and felt like less of an idiot standing up. He looked over the Bat Clan's faces and frowned. Robin looked horrified and guilt-ridden. Batman was angry and concerned. Nightwing looked surprised and pissed off.
"Is he a threat?" Robin asked nervously and Jason just knew the teen was looking at the assassin.
Nighwting shook his head. "No way."
"What are you talking about?" Deathstroke asked.
"You were working for Scarecrow this whole time!" Batman shouted. "You were helping him poison Jason with the Fear Toxin! You followed me earlier today when I locked him up!"
What? Was that true? Jason turned to face Slade. "Really?"
"Of course not," Slade spat. "What did you pay me to do?"
Jason shook his head. "I only paid you not to take bounties. I didn't pay you to protect any of us."
"But I did," Robin spoke up and stepped forward. "Remember?"
Ignoring the agonizing headache and the fact that he felt like he was melting, Jason nodded. Because he did remember that. Deathstroke had been paid to protect The Red Hood, JT Bennet, Harvey Bullock, and the Wayne Family. Not the Wayne alter-egos, but still…
"You didn't," Nightwing frowned down at Robin.
"I did," Tim said. "I used my inheritance."
"You expect me to believe that Deathstroke wasn't in on it?" Batman shook his head. "The device that was poisoning Red Hood was in the apartment above his."
Jason didn't know what they were talking about, but even with his headache it was easy to follow. He was beginning to think the hallucinations and Black Mask in general were all in his head. What a relief that was. Especially if it was coming from the toxin they all kept talking about.
He wiped the sweat from his brow, but it kept gathering at his domino. "Arsenal," he whispered as the two kept fighting. "I need to know. Need to know how Scarecrow got out. Thought he was locked up…"
"I'll send the info your way," Roy answered gently.
"Thanks."
Batman continued his assault on Slade. "How could you not have known, Deathstroke? Everyone says you're the best at what you do!" Batman shouted.
Slade stepped forward menacingly. "You're the detective, not me."
Jason watched as Robin and Nightwing closed ranks and looked prepared to fight. That wasn't good. Jason didn't want to see Dick hurt. Honestly, he didn't want to see Robin or Batman hurt either, but Deathstroke was an asshole when he was pissed off, and he'd go for the one that would debilitate the team to lose. Even temporarily.
The fact that Slade had a thing for Dick wouldn't be an issue either. There was a reason Deathstroke's reputation was unquestionable. That Bruce was questioning it now was about to spur the entire night into a second explosion of violence.
"Slade, wait." Jason breathed heavily as he continued to feel like he was overheating. "Please."
The older man looked at him and Jason could see the war taking place within.
"I gotta get outta here, man," Jason panted. His legs felt weak. "Fuck them. I know you didn't betray me." He grinned at the man. "I pay you too well."
Slade considered it for only a moment before he threw his shoulder into Jason's side and grabbed hold of his arm. Jason happily sagged against the assassin. He was starting to get tired as it was. There were so many things that needed to be done, but he couldn't focus. He couldn't concentrate.
As soon as they started to move, Batman and the others came forward, but it was half-hearted at best. Batman wouldn't have risked Jason's safety if he believed beyond all doubt that Slade was the villain. He was just looking for someone to blame.
"No!" Jason barked as he turned to face them as best he could while still leaning on Slade. "I know you haven't done anything to hurt me. There's no… There's no lost ground with us, B. But there will be if you don't let me get the fuck outta here, right now."
Batman looked as if he was going to ignore Jason, but to his relief, Nightwing put a hand on B's shoulder. "He's right. Let them go. We'll catch up with them when Hood's detoxed."
"I promise," Jason added, just to make sure Bruce didn't have a reason to fight them on the decision. His eyes moved to Robin. "You know I'll keep it, too. Me and that little fuck still need to have some words."
Roy, Harvey and Billy all got to their feet when Jason and Slade lumbered into the large hideout. It was a loft space above an abandoned firehouse. JT Bennet had made a few silent, anonymous purchases and Roy had started to clean this one up after Bruce gave him the order to be an informant on Jason.
"What happened to him?" Roy asked.
"Wayne injected him with something," Slade answered and helped Jason lay down on the couch. "He's detoxing from Scare Juice or some shit."
"Fear Toxin?" Harvey frowned. "As in Scarecrow?"
Deathstroke nodded at the detective and Roy couldn't help but feel a little badly. This whole time they'd all thought Jason had been going insane and losing his mind. Roy had been all over Batman's files thanks to a hack he learned from Tim. Even Barbara hadn't been able to stop him from reading B's report this afternoon.
He tried to send the files to Jason when he asked, but then The Red Hood hadn't bothered to open the messages. Now that Roy could see how out of it Jason appeared, it made sense why.
"Bullock, did you bring some clothes for him?" Slade asked, and the man nodded. "Go get him something to sleep in. He's going to have a long, hard night."
Billy had already moved to Jason's side and was helping the barely conscious man to undress. Roy was amazed by how much sweat was coating pale, unhealthy looking flesh. He didn't envy Jason one bit. Especially when Jason made a strange sound and then shot over to the kitchen sink, throwing up violently.
The old British dude stuck with him, though. Roy glanced at Slade and saw the man looked a touch concerned, but Roy didn't care. Let Deathstroke worry. Bruce Wayne would never, ever do anything to purposely harm his boys. Even if he was in the Batsuit. Jason would probably be okay.
"I want Bruce's reports on Scarecrow and everything pertaining to Jason right now," Slade ordered.
Roy shook his head. "I can't just—"
"Do it, or I'll kill Oliver Queen." Slade's voice was so casual, so calm, that Roy had no choice but to take the threat seriously. "Everything, Roy."
Harvey came in with some clothes and along with Billy, helped Jason get changed and cleaned up. Roy could feel Slade watching him and decided it was better to get it over with. Besides, it was best to get the information now since he wasn't sure Tim would help him access the Batcomputer again in the future.
Within a few minutes he had all the notes and files pertaining to Scarecrow, The Red Hood and Fear Toxin. He sent the information along to both Jason and Slade. It seemed only fair that Jason got to sift through whatever data that Slade and Bruce did.
Slade pulled out his phone, made a curt nod toward Roy when he saw the emails and then dialed someone else. "When you write up the report we all know Wayne is going to make you write, I want a copy. I'm not leaving this city or Jason until I know for certain that my job here is completed. Understood? Good."
The giant pocketed the phone and then moved to an old fridge. Roy watched with concern as Billy moved away from Jason and Harvey. There, the two men conversed softly for several minutes. Roy wanted to know what they were saying but at the same time, he didn't. Knowing Slade's secrets usually meant your life had just reached its expiration date.
Still, it became obvious what was happening the longer Roy thought about it. The conversation with whoever had hired Slade to protect Jason to begin with...
"You're leaving," Roy said.
Slade shrugged. "Most of the contracts on JT Bennet have disappeared, as well as those on the Wayne Family, and Robin insists Joker was in the warehouse when it blew up."
Roy blinked and shook his head. "It's too easy, there's no way."
For once, the animosity between them didn't feel as thick when Slade shrugged. "Which is why I'm not leaving, yet. But the end is nigh, Roy. Jason can't stand on his own two feet if he's relying on me. I'm here to protect Jason Todd and The Red Hood from Joker. If Joker's dead, then I need to get out of Gotham."
Roy glanced at Jason and saw the man shivering as Harvey set a couple of water bottles down on the ground beside the couch. Miserable as Jason looked, Roy couldn't help but be relieved. He didn't understand everything he'd read in the blood results, but he knew that whatever Bruce gave Jason, it would help.
April 10th
Jason's Hideout
1900hrs
Jason had not suffered a single nightmare since the moment Bruce had stabbed him with some syringe and injected an antidote to what he now understood was a specially brewed and calibrated form of Scarecrow's Fear Toxin. Then again, he'd also been mostly sedated for the past forty-eight hours or more. He'd been sweating, shitting, pissing, and puking out every bit of the toxin that had been pumped into his body since March 7th.
March 7th was when Jason had been released from the hospital after Joker stabbed him. There was a lot to explain, but having the reports Roy stole helped bridge the gaps.
Apparently, Joker followed Jason to Bullock's place that night. He then went and broke Dr. Jonathon Crane out of New Arkham. Crane found his way into Gotham General and stole some of Jason's blood which was used to engineer his fuck-up chemical to attack Jason specifically. What Dick, Roy, Harvey, and even Wintergreen experienced in their nightmares was just the atomized gas seeping into their own systems.
It was believed that each explosion where Joker killed a lookalike also had copious amounts of the Fear Toxin within. Since Jason had been present for at least one of those blasts, it explained how even while at the hospital, Jason had been getting dosed by the toxic agent.
Why the fuck Scarecrow wanted him going insane was beyond Jason, but it was par for the course with the doctor. He'd do anything to further his research. Something Jason had known, but hadn't worried about since Crane had been locked up for months by the time JT Bennet rolled into Gotham City.
Jason gripped the tablet in his hand, staring down at the words and felt torn in two. The Bats would say he should be celebrating, that he should be relieved that he wasn't off his rocker, but what about before he came back to Gotham? What about the laughter that had been haunting Jason since he'd returned to the land of the living? Why did he feel like he was being watched when he knew he wasn't? Why did that man's sadistic eyes flash in his head when he closed his eyes?
Dick sat beside Jason on the couch with Harvey and Roy on the other side. Slade leaned against the door frame, watching everything from his considerable height. Billy was in a chair at the kitchen table near the same door. Tim stood directly in front of Jason, and Bruce stood behind Tim, as if to support the teen and protect him.
Maybe from Slade?
Jason wasn't sure if he was more or less insulted that Bruce felt the need to protect Tim from any of them. Yeah, Jason was livid, but he hadn't killed Roy before. Why would he kill Tim?
Jason couldn't help but grin at the way Bruce and Harvey kept eying one another. It had to be uncomfortable. It had to. Harvey Bullock fucking hated capes, and yet there he was, supporting the most violent and merciless cape in Gotham.
Not to mention knowing Batman's identity!
"I just want to know," Jason said as he made eye contact with Tim. "Don't give me whatever version you and B or anyone else has decided I need to hear. I want the facts. I want to know what Joker did, how you escaped, all of it."
"Do you expect me to believe Roy or Tim didn't get the copy of his debriefing to you by now?" Bruce asked irritably.
"B, just let me and Tim talk, alright?" Jason sighed. "I ain't gonna hurt him or anyone else in this apartment. I promise."
Tim didn't look nervous or concerned. Actually, considering he'd been kidnapped by Joker, Tim looked to be in excellent shape. There were only one or two bruises that Jason could see. One was below his left eye socket, and it wasn't that bad since it had already turned yellow and green. The other bruise was on Tim's left hand and that one looked really nasty. There was a pretty deep cut in his hand, too.
Jason shivered. The hook on the crowbar must have caught him when he tried to defend himself. His eyes fell to a gruesome, jagged scar on his own right hand. He'd nearly lost a couple of fingers from the force of Joker's swing with that damn thing.
"Jason?" Dick whispered softly.
His eyes widened. Had he done something strange or was it just that he zoned out after trying to get Tim to tell them what happened?
"I'm good, I'm good. I just got distracted by Tim's hand," Jason said and almost smirked as Tim covered the injured hand with his good one.
"I want to tell you, Jason, I do," Tim started. "But you have to promise you won't take your anger out on Roy. We did what we had to, and it worked. We protected you."
He wanted to knock the little shit on his ass, but instead, Jason cleared his throat. He caught Slade's eye who gave him a supportive nod.
"Fine," Jason spat. "I promise that regardless of what I hear I won't punish either one of you idiots for putting your life in danger! There, happy now?"
Harvey chuckled beside him and Dick placed his hand on Jason's thigh. He did his best to pretend he hadn't noticed and stared at Tim with impatience.
When Tim seemed lost, Slade barked out, "Let's get this shit over with. Some of us have places to be."
Startled, Tim glanced backward and then with encouragement from Bruce, he refocused and took a deep breath.
Tim climbed out of the cab and headed straight into the airport wearing a pair of sunglasses, a scarf and a cap with a heavy coat. He moved straight into the bathroom and removed the outer clothing. He sent out a few texts from several different burners to various journalists. He'd been cultivating contacts and pretending to be at least half a dozen different informants for years.
Even before he'd become Robin.
When enough time passed, he sent a text to Roy and then headed outside. There were more reporters present than Tim had hoped, but either way it worked.
After the press conference Tim ordered a cab and waited patiently. Joker was an opportunist, but he couldn't be sure how quickly the clown would make his move. For all they knew, it could be minutes to days. However, Tim knew Batman had gone directly for Scarecrow, so hopefully that meant it would happen sooner, rather than later.
He'd only been in the cab for about fifteen minutes when three cars forced the taxi to pull over. Tim sent off the last text to Roy from a burner and then texted a code that would erase everything from the device before burying it into the seat. He didn't need Joker to figure out that this was actually a plot against him.
Tim was dragged out of the vehicle by the Joker himself, the madman laughing and bragging happily about his acquisition of such a high value target.
"Maybe now I'll get The Red Hood to come out and play!" he cackled.
Tim was knocked out with chloroform and woke up in a warehouse. He was tied to a chair and seemingly alone save for three of four people who looked to be dressed up as clowns. Typical followers and hangers on of their homicidal leader. He started working immediately on the ropes that bound his hands. Nothing else tied him to the chair, which meant they believed he wouldn't be that great a threat even if he did get free.
There was no way to be certain of how long he'd been unconscious, but Tim refused to take any chances. He had no intention of waiting for a rescue. He could save himself and he would. Then, when Red Hood arrived, he'd be free to make his own choices on how to deal with Joker without anyone else interfering.
Joker must have noticed his wriggling though because he came over with a crowbar. That item set Tim's heart racing. It was covered in gore. Blood and other matter that Tim didn't want to think about too much because his fear was starting to take over.
What if he'd been wrong?
What if he couldn't get free and a rescue was needed?
What if the others didn't make it in time?
He almost had his hands free when the first strike of the crowbar busted him across the face. He shouted out, though it was mostly from the shock. Tim broke free and brought his left hand up just in time to block the second blow.
Tim swept Joker's legs out from under him as they both held on to the crowbar. Tim was prepared when Joker bounced back up and he struck the man with the same crowbar as hard as he possibly could. A sickening crunch nearly had Tim retching and he almost didn't dare bring the crowbar back, because what if it got stuck?
Had he just killed the man?
Had Tim actually killed someone?
The clown toppled to the ground and didn't rise again.
Not wanting to take any chances, Tim only waited until he could be sure the chest was rising and falling before he ran out of the warehouse.
"You know what happened next," Tim finished.
Jason did know.
Red Hood and Nightwing were running toward Tim when a blast wave knocked all three of them back from the building a few feet. Jason's head had been spinning and for a moment he'd been sure Tim was killed in the explosion.
"Joker's dead, Jason," Tim concluded.
No. No, that, Jason didn't believe. Not for a moment. Joker wasn't dead. Jason hadn't gotten his revenge. Jason hadn't put a bullet in the man's skull. Jason hadn't been inside the building to know for sure that it wasn't another decoy.
There was no fucking way that was Joker!
"Jason," Dick said softly. "I know this feels impossible but it's true."
"If there ain't a body, he ain't dead," Jason growled as he stood up from the couch.
He glanced down at Harvey and Roy. They looked skeptical, as well. Bruce, Dick and Tim were decided. With a bit of fear, Jason looked to Billy and Slade. What did they think? If they thought Joker was alive there was still a chance. If not…
"Slade—"
"Everyone inside the building was pink mist, Kid," Slade shrugged. "Too much DNA to really separate it conclusively in most spots, but there was one spot."
Jason swallowed and shook his head.
Slade nodded. "Yeah, Kid. It was his blood."
"That doesn't mean anything," Jason insisted, feeling his entire purpose for the past few years fading fast. "It's Joker! Nothing is ever as it seems. He's not dead."
"We're not going to put our guard down," Bruce spoke up in a placating tone that just made Jason want to knock his teeth out. "We're going to keep looking for him, but it is my belief that he died in the blast."
"No!" Jason shook his head. "Why did the bomb go off that quickly? Joker would have taken his time. The bomb would have been prepared, sure. But it wouldn't have gone off without giving him enough time to get himself safely out, and there wasn't enough time between the moment Tim knocked Joker out and when the blast happened."
"Normally, Kid, I'd take your side on this," Slade said as he walked over to Jason. A powerful hand gripped his shoulder. "I did my own testing. Wayne did his testing. The DNA matched what we all have on record for the clown. I'll stick around a few more weeks, just to be sure, but Jason, he's gone."
Jason didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. It couldn't be true. It couldn't. Jason had spent his every waking moment preparing to kill Joker, and then he just died? By accident? No fucking way. It couldn't be. It wasn't going to be that simple, was it?
He shoved his way past everyone, ignoring their shouts and pleas for him to remain with them. He needed some fresh air. He needed to get the hell out of that room.
Why couldn't he be happy? Was it because he truly believed Joker was alive, or was it because he was morbidly disappointed that he hadn't been the one to end the clown's life? He got outside and waited for something to happen. Anything.
Black Mask mocking him.
Joker laughing!
Anything.
Anything to prove his life hadn't lost all meaning. Anything to prove he hadn't wasted years on planning and training to get his final act of revenge.
It wasn't fair!
Joker's life was his to take.
Now what was he supposed to do?
Two Days Later
Nothing. No signs of Joker. No more dead kids. The city of Gotham as settling down.
April 27th
0001hrs
Gotham Skyline
Dick frowned as he entered Old Arkham asylum. He didn't understand why Jason was insisting on this, but apparently, even Deathstroke agreed with Jason.
"He won't be able to resist," Jason whispered more to himself than either of them. "It'll happen today."
Deathstroke and Nightwing hung back, allowing Jason to search the old hospital for any signs of life from the mad clown. It was dangerous to be walking around a building that was practically crumbling in on itself, but Jason had been so much better since the detox. He didn't hear things, he reported less nightmares to Roy and Harvey.
Jason hadn't been picking fights with Tim, Bruce or himself, either. Dick had hoped things would slowly click back into a neutral sort of place.
That had yet to happen, though.
The city had long since declared April 7th a city holiday to celebrate Joker's demise. Batman, Nightwing, and even Robin had pleaded publicly not to celebrate in such a way, but as the days and nights passed, it was more and more evident that the clown was either dead or didn't care that everyone thought he was.
"Are you really heading out?" Dick asked Slade quietly, his eyes tracking Jason's careful movements over tiled, broken flooring as they wandered through a hallway.
Slade nodded. "Kid's more than capable of taking care of himself. He just needs to remember that."
"Bruce made it sound as if you wouldn't ever leave Jason behind," Dick probed.
The assassin shrugged. "He's my protégé, that isn't going to change."
Dick wanted to glare at the man, but Slade wasn't looking to care one way or another. "Yeah but—"
"But nothing," Slade interrupted. "When Jason's had his fill of bloodletting this city, how long do you think he'll stick around? Couple months, maybe? A year?"
"Jason wouldn't leave Gotham," Dick insisted, but even as he spoke the words, he wasn't entirely convinced.
Slade chuckled as they continued. "I'd be surprised if he stuck around once Joker's confirmed to be dead."
Stopping in his tracks, Dick glared at the man's back as he broke his line of sight on Jason. "You're wrong! You don't know him at all."
Slade didn't glare or bark back at Dick as he stared with perfect apathy. "If Jason stays in Gotham, it's because he believes Joker lives," Slade stated. "Leaving is the only way you'll know that Jason has finally let Joker go. Mark my words."
"He won't just follow you around because you snap your fingers." Dick wasn't sure why he kept arguing with Slade.
For a brief moment, Dick felt a surge of panic as he realized he still hadn't seen Jason. He was just about to enter a room when Jason nearly bumped into him. With an irritated growl, Jason sidestepped Dick and muttered under his breath, the sound a little odd with his voice modulator filtering him.
"He's on a mission. He'll see it completed and he'll move on," Slade said, once more sounding neutral but sure of his perspective.
Dick knew Jason well enough to know that the murderous vigilante would do what he wanted regardless of any outside forces. Problem was, Slade had a reputation for getting what he wanted in the long run. What probably made Dick so unsure was the fact that Jason really had relied heavily on the man for mental support recently.
What if he was getting emotional support from Slade, too?
"But you are right, Jason doesn't heele for anyone," Slade agreed. "Just know, he's better than Gotham. Better than this whole superhero schtick you and your family have been allowing to take over your lives. When Jason gets bored, and trust me he will, he'll look to me for some stimulation."
There was nothing dirty about the man's words or tone, but Dick still heard innuendo. "He's not in love with you."
Slade barked out a mean-spirited laugh. "Of course, he's not. Kid's too fucking scared of me to be in love with me."
Dick wished his domino wasn't hiding his eyes so he could level the full force of his glare at the overgrown prick.
After a moment or two of angry silence, Slade nudged Dick in the bicep with his elbow. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Nightwing," Slade said after a moment or two of angry silence. "Jason's not my type."
For a moment, Dick thought the man was messing with him, but for once, Slade was all sincerity. He wanted to question the man further, try to reassure himself, but Dick knew better. Trying to get Slade to repeat himself would antagonize the man's impatience and he'd retaliate by making Dick doubt anything and everything that he'd been trying to find reassurance with.
"So, you think he'll leave Gotham?" Dick asked softly.
The assassin nodded. "Once he's sure that Joker is gone, he'll have no choice but to leave."
"Why?"
"Because the League of Assassins will want their answers."
Dick nearly tripped over a large, raised tile. "What do they have to do with anything?"
He hoped the terror in his voice wasn't easily picked up on, but knowing Slade as well as Dick did, he doubted it was much of a secret. Either way, the League was dangerous. Bruce despised having to deal with them, and Dick had noticed that Ra's al Ghul had taken a concerning interest in Tim as of late, too .
"You know they're connected, right? This isn't the first you've heard of them and Red Hood?"
Dick nodded.
Slade looked pleased as he smiled proudly and continued walking. "Ra's thinks Jason's hiding the secret to immortality somewhere in his head. He's hoping Batman and Robin can figure it out, since the League failed."
"What will happen if they don't figure it out?" Dick asked, though he doubted he needed to. He knew enough of the League to be sure of exactly what Jason's future would look like. And then, as he looked ahead to see Jason coming out of a room, something clicked. "Is Jason afraid of the League?"
"Not as much as he should be," Slade said with a protective growl.
"But he knows?"
"Of course."
Dick swallowed. "Is that why you are here? Is it why he lets you boss him around? Does he feel like you'll protect him?"
"He's never asked."
"Will he have to? Or is that going to require a price?"
Slade shrugged his broad shoulders. "Nothing's free, Grayson."
Dick scowled. "You're saying you'd just let him be captured? After everything you told Batman about not letting him go and him belonging to you? You'd just allow the League to take him and do who knows what trying to unlock the secrets of his—"
Red Hood appeared before them. "Will you two shut the fuck up?" the voice modulator making him sound cold and hollow.
Deathstroke didn't seem at all concerned with Jason's state one way or another. Dick was about to protest and explain himself, but Red Hood was stepping into his space.
"I don't have to ask him for help, Dick. If I need it, he'll be there," Jason said and despite the voice sounding inhuman, there was no doubt in Dick's mind that Jason was filled with conviction. "And if I ever left Gotham, it would be permanently."
Instead of allowing the fight to continue, Dick looked to the ground sheepishly. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"No," Jason snapped. "Though who knows if that's because Joker wasn't frightened off, hearing you two!"
Deathstroke shook his head. "Kid, if this date meant as much to him as it does to you, nothing would frighten him off."
Red Hood punched Deathstroke straight across the jaw. Dick blinked beneath his domino in horror. He barely had a chance to get out of the way before Deathstroke slammed Red Hood into a wall. There wasn't a word said between either man, but the tension in the air was undeniably thick with a need for violence.
He recalled the kitchen in Slade's safehouse and was about to mention that they should cool down when Jason broke Deathstroke's hold. The fight that ensued was terrifying. Dick had never seen Jason so aggressive or fast, to be honest. It changed the entire dynamic in Dick's mind as he watched the two fight. Neither held back as they went at one another full tilt.
Jason was bodily tossed into a wall so hard that the ceiling tiles shifted. Before they could land on Jason, though, he'd already spear tackled Slade to the ground. They grappled on the floor for only a few more moments before Slade managed to flip Jason off him with a well timed knee to the solar plexus.
Nightwing had no choice but to back away from the fight because he refused to get involved in it. It wasn't that Dick was afraid of fighting with either man. He'd happily go toe to toe with either of them, but the fact remained that while he truly believed Joker was dead, that didn't mean there wouldn't be traps.
If Deathstroke and Red Hood wanted to put themselves in danger by fighting one another in the middle of an old Asylum that Joker used for his own hideout, then somebody needed to remain vigilant. Since it couldn't be either of the combatants, it would have to be him.
Cringing, he tried to ignore how nasty each of the men fought. Neither were pulling their punches. Neither were fighting fair. So far, however, it appeared they were content to keep it a weapons free exhibition. That is until Slade pulled a knife.
In a flash a gun was pulled and aimed at Deathstroke's head.
"We done?" Red Hood asked.
"You tell me, Brat. You gonna go run off to a corner and cry like a bitch?" Slade taunted.
"Go fuck yourself," Red Hood growled but holstered his gun.
Slade put the knife back and Jason went back to searching the crumbling building for Joker. Dick couldn't believe the fight had ended as quickly as it had begun.
"He needed it," Deathstroke said so softly that Dick was sure Jason hadn't heard. "Kid's been wound up like a fucking top since Robin announced Joker's death. If he doesn't expel all that violence, he's gonna kill someone he'll feel bad about later."
The way Slade said it so calmly worried Dick. "Has he done that before?"
Without even looking at him, Deathstroke kept walking and said, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Nightwing."
Jason sat in the morgue, his eyes closed, his helmet sitting beside him on the steel surgical table, and his breathing steady. No matter how calm he felt outwardly, he was seething inside. Joker hadn't shown up yet. He hadn't sprung any traps. He hadn't left behind a trail of clues.
Was it possible?
Had the clown really gone down in a poorly timed explosion?
Stranger things had happened in Gotham.
He watched Nightwing and Deathstroke catch up to him. Nightwing hesitated at the door of the hospital's storage space for the dead. Could Dick sense all the fucked up despair and horror held within the four walls?
"You've got until midnight tonight," Slade announced. "Joker doesn't show up alive by then, Wintergreen and I are out."
Why he thought Jason would care was beyond him. He shrugged to make that clear.
It wasn't a surprise when Deathstroke walked out of the Morgue, leaving Jason alone with Dick. It wasn't even a surprise that Dick hadn't followed Deathstroke. Jason wanted to use some kind of logic to explain his heart rate increasing at the idea of them alone together, but he was so tired of fighting everything he felt.
He fought his concern for Tim, his fear of Batman losing another Robin. He fought his guilt over wounding Roy so badly and he felt even more for dragging Harvey Bullock into his schemes. Jason fought the disappointment he felt in Catwoman and Alfred for not even trying to see things from his perspective and choosing, as usual, to protect the Bat Clan over Jason. But most of all he was tired of fighting how deeply he had fallen in love with Dick fucking Grayson.
"Jason," Dick started with furrowed brows and a worried frown.
"I love you," Jason blurted. He ignored the way Dick's jaw fell a little and plowed forward before he lost his nerve. "I have loved you since I first saw you but it was different back then. It started out as just a crush, a sort of sinful idolatry of what I wanted to be and wanted to possess. But even before I died, I knew that I loved you."
Dick hadn't responded but he looked at Jason in such a way that he was sure he was being encouraged to continue.
"I loved you for your strength in standing up to Bruce when you thought he was wrong. I loved you for the genuine concern you have for everyone close to you, still do." He chuckled. " I loved you for all the times you smiled at me, even if it was one of the exasperated ones you gave your Titans."
Jason fumbled for his pack of cigarettes, but he didn't pull one out yet. He wanted to, but he just wanted to get away from the glaring purple and green disappointment that this day so often produced in him. He wanted to embrace blue for once and stop resisting.
"When I came back, I just wanted a piece of you. I wanted to take. I wanted to prove to myself that you were nothing to me, just the lust induced fantasies of a delinquent teen. It wasn't a nice thing to do, I know that now. In fact, trying to have a casual fling with you was the epitome of my selfishness," he paused for a moment and tried to look through the white lenses of Dick's domino. "I never, ever thought I'd wind up back in your orbit, back among the throngs of your worshippers, but I just wanted to have a piece of you to keep in my greedy, black heart."
With Dick still silent and unmoving, Jason got the feeling he had upset the blue and black clad vigilante. There was a severe frown on his face and even a red tint to his olive colored cheeks. That didn't deter Jason, though. He knew what he was saying was upsetting, he was just glad he could continue. Glad that he could explain himself.
"And then as I lay beside you, I remembered all that love from before. It wasn't just lust. It wasn't just a crush... I love your intelligence and your passion. I love your commitment to fighting the evil that exists in our world to the point you are both a cop and a vigilante. I love you for trying to make me jealous of Slade and I love you for being jealous of Harvey."
Jason felt his eyes water and he didn't know if or how he should continue on, but there was so much more he wanted to say. So much more that he knew Dick needed to hear. He plucked out one of the smokes as he realized an awkward silence had lapsed. He pretended not to look at Dick but he kept the man in his peripherals.
"I know, I know," Jason forced a bitter laugh as he took the lighter out of a different pocket. "Not exactly the best time, right? I mean, you thought of me as a brother, fell in love with a persona, then you find out I'm a psycho killer who crippled your best friend and… I know that you and I have been on such a rocky fucking path, but-"
He lit the cigarette with shaking hands and inhaled with shakier breath. Jason shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth to say something else, but what more could he say? Dick wanted more, he knew that. They both knew that. Jason wanted more, too and with the recently recovered clarity of thought he recalled the hope he'd been nursing in the back of his mind.
Jason closed his eyes and took in a second drag. He could say it. He could say what he wanted so desperately to say.
"Now that this fear toxin is out of my system, now that I'm thinking clearly, I want us to… I want-"
"Me too," Dick interrupted. Jason opened his eyes to see that Dick was right in front of him with that obnoxiously adorable smile. "Me, too."
"It won't be easy," Jason said, trying to make sure they stayed grounded in reality. "I mean… It's gonna be really fucking hard."
Dick grinned wickedly,. "I certainly hope so."
He couldn't help but laugh, "Listen, Dick, I'm trying to be serious here!"
Before Jason could continue or even try to glare at Dick, the short man had grabbed Jason's cigarette and tossed it aside. "Okay, go ahead."
"Seriously?" Jason managed to glare. "That was rude."
"I won't stop you from smoking, but I will ask that you not blow smoke in my face." Dick shrugged. "Now, go on. You're trying to be serious."
Jason rolled his eyes and reached for Dick's black and blue gloved hands. He loved those stupid finger stripes. "Yes, I am trying," he smirked. "There's going to be a lot of road blocks. Your career, my identities, B, and of course our ideologies being the biggest one."
Dick bit at his bottom lip and Jason couldn't help but smile at the sight.
Once more silence fell between them as Jason held tightly to Dick's hands. He used the feeling, even through two pairs of gloves, to remain grounded in reality. "Dick, we can't just pretend that you don't know what I do…"
"Couldn't we?" Dick asked.
"No." Jason shook his head. "I won't hide from you for one, and you absolutely could not sleep at night knowing that I was killing people you disapproved of me killing."
Dick smirked and raised Jason's gloved hands to his lips before kissing the knuckles. Despite the lack of skin to skin contact, Jason still shivered. "Actually, I've been trying to tell you this for a while now, but I don't think my nights would be as wracked with guilt as you seem to think?"
"Oh?" Jason asked.
"I haven't conceded completely, I just want to be clear," Dick stated as he pulled his hands back and took up a solid, straight stance. "But after Tim, after he was nearly killed by Joker? After thinking about it for a long, long time, I can't help but think you may be right in some cases. That you are right about me."
"I am?"
"About me being a hypocrite," Dick clarified. "I dated Huntress for a while, she kills people. I dated Slade, he's an assassin. I dated Kori and even a few other questionable people who have taken lives to save others or have even just been contract killers. So why can't I date you?"
"Good question. Why can't you?"
Dick stepped back into Jason's space and leaned forward. "I'm pretty sure the answer is that I can. Because I love you, too," he said before bringing their lips together.
Jason pulled back and wished he could see Grayson's eyes. "Why?"
Dick pressed his forehead against Jason's and smiled. "Because even while you were going mad, even while you were falling apart because of the fear toxin, you never lost sight of who you are and what your goals were. Because even with all your hurts and anger against us, you protected us. You can't be the monster I assumed The Red Hood was when you were willing to sacrifice your own sanity to make this city a safer, better place."
Jason felt a rush of guilt, his mind recalling the conversation Dick and Slade had only moments ago. "I'll always do my best to protect my loved ones. Always," he promised, because it was the only promise he could make and keep.
Dick, either refusing to see the hesitation or just oblivious to his careful words, kissed him again. Jason wrapped his arms around the smaller man and hoped that Slade was wrong about the League. If he wasn't wrong about Ra's, then he wasn't wrong about Jason, either.