The Red Right Hand

by Ophelia'song

Dick Grayson learns that some ghosts aren't so easily laid to rest when he returns to Gotham to visit his troubled friend Roy. In conversation, he learns some disturbing information about the man who once stood to destroy him—Slade. With his team on the verge of ruin, Nightwing finds himself in a dispute with the Justice League that may cost him his leadership and possibly more.

18. Walking On Both Sides

A/N: Hey Guys! I apologize for this update took, but you can blame my editor, the lovely and majestic, Jonhy Schig XD. But it's here and I hope you all enjoy this one. I would also like to apologies to my good friend Kieli13 who is losing her mind over the identity of Red X in the fic, but I'd just like to say that it's there, so if you have an idea feel free to make a guess, I wanna see what some of you think :D But thanks for your feedback and those of you who are still reading! Let me know what you think, I'll try and get the next update out soon. Love you guys, I hope you all have a great holiday.

-With Love Ophelia

Chapter 17

Walking On Both Sides

"There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." -William Shakespeare

It was cold in the boardroom, something Bruce Wayne took notice of. However, he thought it quite fitting for the fact that this was indeed a place of verbal bloodbaths. Especially when his cousin, Adeline Kane Wilson, was leading the charge. What else did he expect from a Kane after all?

She'd entered the room armed, holding a large leather folder. This, he presumed, had everything necessary for the assault, including everything from favors to blackmail. She could be so ruthless, but so could half the people sitting across from him. Bruce may have owned the majority of the company, but he was very well aware that many of his colleges were just waiting to pounce at the first drop of blood. Every last one of them sharks. The only person he truly trusted with the legacy of his family's great company was Lucius Fox—a friend and trusted ally.

Lucius was, in many ways, Bruce's eyes and ears, always looking out for his company's best interest. He was also a man of great brilliance and loyalty, qualities Bruce valued above all else. But there was one thing in particular that Lucius Fox had that many of the board members didn't—a heart.

"Are we ready to call this meeting into session everyone?" Lucius said with a hint of natural grandeur.

Bruce couldn't help but chuckle a little at how official the man sounded, like he were a judge presiding over a court.

"Alright," Lucius began, "today we will be discussing the plan proposed by Mr. Wayne for a potential youth center located on the site of one of Wayne Enterprises currently vacant properties. Now is everyone up to date with the proposed plan, and understands the details in which it was proposed?"

Lucius look up from his notes and noticed everyone nod, both looks of calm and dissatisfaction reflecting back at him.

"Good," he continued, "I will now open the floor to those of you who have concerns. As always, let us try to be respectful and have a thoughtful discussion. Would anyone like start?"

A man in a navy blue suit, sharply dressed, leaned forward and raised his hand stylishly, a flat look upon his alabaster skin. He, like Bruce, came from old Gotham money, but what he did with it was a far cry from the values of a Wayne son.

"Yes Mr. Daggett, the floor is yours."

"Thank you, Lucius," the man said and stood up, buttoning his coat. Unaware of how much Lucius hated when John Daggett addressed him as a friend.

"My fellow members of the board, I think I speak for all of us when I say that this project is, and always will be, a beautiful dream, but a dream is all it is and will ever be."

Bruce couldn't help but roll his eyes as Daggett stood there, addressing the table as if he were addressing congress.

Maybe this really is a courtroom and I missed the memo?

Still, Daggett continued, "I want nothing more than to help ensure the youth of our great city have the tools they need to remain on the straight and narrow, but that's not the reality we live in. Mr. Wayne wants us to believe that this center can make a difference, and bring light to a very dim part of Gotham, and maybe it can? I agree, the children in that neighborhood need a safe place where they can safely partake in productive activities and be enriched. I'm not saying we deny them of that, but with those kids come complications that cannot be avoided. Drugs, gangs, recruiters, and even possibly sex traffickers. Mr. Wayne wants and believes this center will be a beacon of hope, but I know—and—you know—this place will only be a beacon of opportunity to those who only wish to prey on these kids. I for one do not feel the need to chum the waters."

Both Bruce and Lucius looked around at the many faces teetering on conflict, Daggett's words grooming their appreciation into fear.

"Is that all, Mr. Daggett?" Lucius asked trying to keep the loathing and annoyance to a minimum.

"Yes, Lucius. Thank you."

"Would anyone like to address the concerns of Mr. Daggett with a rebuttal?"

Yep, I missed the memo…

"I would," Adeline said astringently and sat up in her chair.

"Ms. Kane?" Lucius said, a little surprised and looked a Bruce. "I didn't know you were supporting this project?"

She smiled, a soft, but ironic grin. This concerned Lucius.

"It's important to Bruce, and he is family. So, yes Mr. Fox, it's important to me."

That concerned Lucius more. "Proceed, Ms. Kane."

"Thank you Mr. Fox." A ravenous smile outstretched itself across her face. "I'd like to point out that Mr. Daggett is not wrong, it is a beautiful dream."

John Daggett smirked a little nervously, but not because he thought he'd won. He just knew there was something beyond that lipstick smile of hers.

"But that is also where John Daggett is wrong, because here at Wayne Enterprises, nothing is just a dream. We are, without a doubt, the finest corporation in the world. We have made medical and technological breakthroughs that no other company in the world could have ever achieved. Hell—we've practically built the world we live in today. So how are we supposed to believe that we can't save the youth in our own city? Now, Mr. Daggett isn't wrong. A rough neighborhood means rough neighbors. We won't be without our turmoil." She paused, taking a moment of counterfeit reflection. "But, it's nothing we can't handle."

God she was good.

Adeline motioned for her assistant to move toward the table, swaying her hand gracefully, refusing to break character. "I've comprised a list of suggested policies to help promote a safer, more stable environment. One that can help achieve the legacy this company was built on."

She was really good.

Adeline removed a folder from the leather case and passed it over to her assistant so that it could be distributed. Bruce was among the first to receive his copy and scanned over the proposed suggestions. As this was taking place, Mr. Daggett spoke against Ms. Kane.

"So Addie, you believe that because our company helped cure polio that we can help cure gang violence in a city that was practically built on it?"

"Of course not," Adeline replied, faux smile in tow. "But I do think we can help spare a soul or two from a life of delinquency, led in and out of prison. It's a known fact that most children who end up in gangs usually come from broken homes in bad neighborhoods with notably poor educational systems. These children come from a world where their very survival depends on joining these organizations. These children need to see that they can survive without them, and we can do that through a strong infrastructure of education, stability, and a sense of community. This center can give them that."

"What do you think of all this, Mr. Wayne?" Lucius asked, not taking his eyes off the ironclad brunette.

"I think Ms. Kane brings up several great points. Many of which, I agree with," Bruce replied, addressing the room. "But there are several key points in her sub-proposal that I take issue with."

"Such as?" she smirked.

"Such as, having an admissions program. A place of refuge should not be left to scrutiny."

Adeline smiled. "You're right, Bruce. It shouldn't. However, it's only a precaution. We can't allow those who are already gang affiliated to be part of the program. They could be there to recruit."

Bruce frowned. "And what if they just want out of that life? What do we say to those kids?"

"In cases such as that we can put them on a probationary period. Once that period is complete then we can revisit the issue of having them in our program."

"It's a youth center, for AT RISK children. We can't just turn kids away, especially the ones who need it the most."

"We can if their presence is a threat to the other children, Bruce. I know you want to protect these kids, but you're gonna have to accept that you can't save the ones who don't want to be saved."

She was too good.

"I for one would feel a lot better voting for this if these guidelines were attached to the current plan," an older board member replied.

Both Bruce and Lucius looked over at the greying man, his face unwilling to move from the notion that shutting out children was acceptable.

"It's not unreasonable, Bruce." Adeline urged. "We can even change the guidelines over time to best suit our situation. Who knows, maybe in a few years an open door policy will be something we can consider?"

"Consider? These are kids for God sake," Bruce growled momentarily losing his composure.

He noticed Lucius look over at him, silently reminding him to keep himself together.

"Yes" she finally said, a calm look still plastered on her unmoved face," and as we know, children are not immune to the ignorance of others. If they were, this world would be a much better and safer place."

Adeline was right. Children may have been innocent, but they could indeed grow to be tainted by those who chose to sculpt their minds with hate and ideology. But his mission was to stop that, or at least lessen its grip in Gotham. Could he still do that under Adeline's stipulations? Was her iron fist truly just a necessary evil?

"What do you think, Lucius?" Bruce asked, knowing that if he wanted this project to go through, he didn't have much choice.

"I think you made a deal with the Devil, Mr. Wayne. But it's your call. If anyone has anything they would like to share, please take this time to address your concerns. If not, I propose we bring this to a vote."

The board room fell silent with no hand raised to make their case. Lucius looked down the table, knowing he'd have to call a vote, though he feared the choice the man to his left would make. Yes, Adeline made their case for them, and more than likely secured their win, but at what cost?

"Alright then, all for attaching the proposed set of guidelines to the current plan proposed and sponsored by Mr. Wayne?"

Adeline as well as five of her fellow board members raised their hands, a little less than half the board. Bruce's hand however, was not one of them and neither was Lucius's.

"All opposed?"

Bruce and Lucius raised their hands, both shocked to see that John Daggett was voting with them.

"What?" the man shrugged. "Even with her plan this thing's a bust. Why help it limp across the finish-line?"

In all they were down one vote as two members decided to play Switzerland.

Lucius looked at Bruce, reluctantly shook his head and whispered, "If the Devil does indeed wear Prada, then she just hijacked your plan."

Lucius composed himself, trying not let his feathers get too ruffled. However, he couldn't understand why Bruce didn't consult him before asking, of all people—Adeline Kane—to weave a tale upon her forked tongue?

"All in favor of Mr. Wayne's proposed plan with the added guidelines provided by Ms. Kane?"

Adeline and her five followers raised their hands again as Bruce watched. He had a decision take make; vote with the devil and get what he wanted (or at least part of it) or, abandon his ambition and watch it die on the boardroom floor? It would take months, maybe even a year or two to even have the program brought back to the table. Bruce was used to getting his way, he was used to it being the right way, but Adeline had a point. The board would never vote for his plan without this contingency attached, they were far too sheltered to.

Bruce turned his head to Lucius, a rueful look in his stoic eyes. He had to seal this deal with his soul attached, he just hoped he wouldn't regret it too much. Lucius watched as Bruce raised his hand, and with reluctance, raised his as well.

Lucius didn't even bother calling for an opposing vote. It was seven to six—it passed—barely. Bruce looked over at Adeline as Lucius continued with the meeting, a pleased, yet cynical grin on her red lips.

I may grow to regret this decision, he thought looking over at her as she basked in her victory.

Once the meeting finally came to a close, Bruce left the room hastily to catch up to the brunette, busy giving orders to her assistant.

"Push back my 10:30 conference call and move up my lunch—I don't care what you have to tell them, just get it done—"

"Adeline, a word?" Bruce asked over her list of demands.

She glanced over at Bruce, she knew this was coming, she just didn't care. "Walk and talk then, I have a world to run."

Bruce shook his head, Adeline was a lot like time—she didn't stop for anyone.

"When I asked you to help me pass the project, I didn't mean change it."

Adeline glanced over at him again, her dark green eyes steely beneath her flawless eye makeup. "Well, your plan wasn't gonna pass unless I dressed it up a bit."

"By making it selective?" An asinine look grew on his face, one that he never sported.

"By making it less of a liability, Bruce."

She stopped at the ladies room and pushed open the door, Bruce looking at her crudely.

"You coming?"

"That's women's bathroom?" he droned like a middle school boy about to cross the threshold of the unknown.

"I know, but I only have 5 minutes for a cigarette so if you wanna finish this conversation, you'll get the hell in here."

Bruce knit his brow and looked around before letting himself be seen entering.

"Come on Bruce, it's just a bathroom. Stop being such a boy scout." Adeline drawled, ushering him in.

"You actually smoke in the bathrooms here," Bruce mused a little annoyed watching his cousin light up in front of him.

She took a long drag and leaned against the wall. "Well where else am I supposed to smoke?"

"Um… outside."

She ashed her cigarette in the sink bring back up to her lips, brazenly. "Yes, let me schedule 25 minutes every hour so I can make the epic journey down to the lobby, because that would be really productive."

She always was crass with her thoughts. Bruce recalling a time when he actually found this quality to be one of her better attributes. Only now it seemed cold and hardened, like she no longer cared for the world... And she didn't.

"Besides, if you think this is deplorable, then you should see what goes on in here during our company functions and Christmas parties."

Bruce rolled his eyes and continued as his cousin carelessly smoked her victory cigarette. "You really are a piece of work."

"Oh look how little I care."

She exhaled and let her hand fall down, flicking the ash with her thumb. Adeline had a knack for using her smoking gestures as a witty way to punctuate her sentences. It was probably the only graceful thing about her foul habit.

"But I did what you asked me to. I got the center passed, you won."

"Did I?"

Adeline took her hand from her elbow and leaned forward. "Maybe you didn't get everything you wanted, Bruce, but at least you got something. And it's a good start." She tilted her head back, the sickening smell filling the air around her.

"So maybe you can't save every kid, but you can save more than you would without this center."

She put her cigarette out in the sink then flicked it in the toilet with little tact, and looked back at Bruce. He was disenfranchised and dejected, his heart still screaming that he'd been betrayed.

"Just take what you're given, Bruce."

"And what about you?" Bruce asked and crossed his arms. "Don't I still owe you a favor?"

She smile, a little wickedly. "Why yes you do, and I will collect on that when the moment is right."

She gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder and left him there. Bruce shaking his head in frustration and motioning out where he saw Adeline greeting Lucius a "good day."

Lucius looked over at Bruce who carefully exited the bathroom, Lucius giving him a quizzical look.

"You do know that it's against company policy to smoke on the property, right Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce smiled arrogantly. "Yes, I'm very well aware of that Lucius. I am the one who ordered it."

Lucius shrugged being well aware of this, but couldn't help pointing out the hypocrisy. "Well, I'd say you should inform Ms. Kane of that, but I have a feeling she'll just do whatever she wants."

"That would be correct," Bruce replied. "My cousin is very forthright."

"She's a bitch, sir," Lucius corrected, "and I mean that in the most endearing way possible. It's why she's so efficient at her job. It's what makes her… well, like you—minus the morality of course."

"I'm not gonna argue that point," Bruce said, trying to ignore Lucius's implications.

"I'm just pointing out that there's a fundamental difference between you two, Mr. Wayne. You're both smart, driven, cunning—you know what you want and you take it. However, you have the interest of others at heart, you think of the bigger picture. Adeline only thinks of Adeline. That's why she isn't a Wayne, sir."

"Yeah, I apparently learned that the hard way."

8888

He pulled up to the old mill, being careful to keep an eye out for a tail. He looked around, making sure he was alone. Before stepping out of his car door, he reached over and opened the glove box. He glanced up before reaching in and took the semiautomatic handgun in his grip, tucking it into his waistband. He got out of the car slowly, keeping close watch for an ambush. He knew he shouldn't have come to this territory. That he should have just kept to Blüdhaven, but the offer was just too good to pass up.

He entered the old mill, the scent of dust and mold being potent enough to make his eyes water. He began making his way down the hall, calling for the girl he demanded meet him there. "Mia—Mia! Where the hell are you!?"

He looked down at his phone and sent her text a massage, "Where the fuck are you?"

A quick chime set off on his phone, "I'm waiting in the pressing room. I didn't want anyone to see me."

He replied, telling her that he'd be down momentarily and placed his phone back in his pocket. He followed the hallway, being careful not to walk into any cobwebs. A loud noise erupted from the room just off to his right. He pulled out his weapon, and pressed his back to the wall. He once again removed his phone, turning on his flashlight setting. He flashed the light into the shadows, but saw nothing as he let it shine through the darkness. Then out of nowhere, something flew out at him.

"Ahh!" the man cried, guarding his face in horror.

He watched as a large black crow flew up to an old pipe and perched itself, looking at him menacingly.

"Shit!" he scoffed at the creature's presence, "I fucking hate birds!"

The crow dismissively squawked at him, as though taunting the frustrated man. He turned from the crow, still swearing under his breathe, pissed he was bested by crovid.

He entered the press area, the large machines frozen in time.

"Mia?" For a moment there was no reply and he began to wonder if he were even in the right place. "Mia, where the fuck are you, you little bitch? This isn't funny."

"Actually, it's hysterical," he heard and turned to find a girl with bright red hair standing behind him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded pointing the loaded gun in her direction.

Duela only smiled, unfazed. "Just a girl who brought friends to the play date, Ricky."

"Shit," he scoffed and took off, but was met by another man wearing a black hood.

The scared man pointed his gun at the hoodman, who acted as a blockade. He looked up through his hood, noticing the gun. "You really think that thing's gonna save you?" he asked.

"I know it sure won't save you," Ricky replied daringly.

"Go ahead, pull the trigger. You'll be dead before I even hit the ground."

The man looked at the hoodman, no fear present about him. This shook him, his hand quivering as he readied himself to pull the trigger.

"You should really listen to him," he heard a dark voice say.

The man's face plummeted. He didn't need to turn around to know exactly who he'd find, as though he could see it from another life. I'm a dead man…

"Now drop the gun, Ricky, before I drop you," he heard Red Hood command.

"I can cut you a deal, man."

"I don't cut deals with pervs," the hood replied, "especially the ones who force little girls to sell themselves to grown men."

The man took a big gulp, desperation clear in his cold eyes. He began to motion his hand down as though he were going to place his gun down. However, at the very last second, he tried to turn and fire at Jason, but missed. The bullet nearly hit Duela, who ducked just in time. Jason took the man by the wrist and pointed the gun upward, another bullet firing freely. Before Dick or anyone could run to Jason's aid, Jason slammed his fist into the man's nose, breaking it. But not before a loud metallic whistle could be heard as though something had just burst.

"What the hell is that?" Eddie asked looking up for the sound.

Another strange whistle cried again and X looked down from the rafters where he was stationed. "Shit!"

"What?" Jason said, taking his attention off of Ricky.

Ricky however, took this as an opportunity to make another run for it. He jammed his elbow into his captor's stomach, briefly knocking the wind out of him. Ricky ran for his life, Dick quickly darting to cut him off.

Jason looked up through his helmet, angry that some lowlife like Richard Walker got the better of him. Beneath his helm he scowled, practically seething. Dick readied himself to block him, he wouldn't get by, when he heard the two gun shots. Ricky's body stopped dead as two bullets buried themselves in his back. A lifeless look began to take over his face, his knees collapsing beneath him. He'd be dead before he hit the dirt.

Dick looked on in horror, not for the horrid man, but for the sight of it, the sight of his own doing. In his moment of unraveling grief, he glanced away to see Jason, still holding his gun in the dead man's direction. He could tell Jason was shocked, but not because he'd killed the man, but because he'd killed him out of rage.

The Outlaw glared back at Dick, feeling the judgment in his stare, but he recognized something else. He knew that look as though it were himself wearing it in the mirror. The sickly lost stare, the panic, the surreal nature of it all. He knew exactly where Dick was right then, and he needed him to snap out of it.

"Shit, Grayson, I'm sorry—you okay?" Jason said carefully.

But before Dick could even acknowledge Jason, X jumped down to the floor.

"We gotta get the hell out of here, now!"

"What?" Jason questioned.

"That pop we heard and that hissing! That guy's shot hit a propane tank—it's gonna blow! This place is gonna go up real—" X was cut off by the sound of the tank bursting into flames, the dry martial catching around it. "—Quick," X concluded nervously.

"Everyone out—now!" Jason commanded.

X, Duela, Enigma and Eddie wasted no time and flew past Dick who was still lost in the wake of the relived trauma.

"Come on!" Jason urged, pulling Dick by the arm.

The hero snapped out of it long enough to see the flames and took off with the Outlaw, taking one last look at the lifeless man left behind. The fire began to rip through the building behind them, devouring everything it touched. The wood and plastic were dry and covered with dust—years of darkness. The walls were catching the fastest, the fact they'd been insulated with old newspaper only helping to drive the flames to ignite. The smoke, however, was the worst. Thick billows filled the halls, burning their eyes and choking their lungs.

"We need to get out of here now, before we suffocate!" Jason shouted to X who was already looking for a quicker way out.

He looked to the left and noticed the fall was only about 2 stories.

"Anyone going down?"

"Just cause I don't wanna burn to death doesn't mean I wanna break my fucking legs!" Eddie bitched through a rough cough.

"You'll be fine, let's take the window," Jason urged looking out of it. "There's a fire escape we can use."

X grabbed a random chair and smashed it through the glass, making sure to relieve the frame of the larger shards. Jason was the first to jump down, landing on the rusty steel frame of the stairway outside.

"Come on," Jason called signaling that he'd catch Duela.

X and Dick helped her up on the frame and she jumped without a second thought. Enigma was next, followed by Eddie, a little apprehension set on his brow. Still, he found the idea of dying a slow, painful death less favorable than the climb down. Once Eddie was out, it was up to X and Dick to decide who went next.

"Ladies first, Chuckles."

"Not before douchebags."

"Funny…"

"Just go, shithead."

X jumped down with little issue, however the old stairway was read to give.

"Shit," Jason scoffed as Dick leaned out the window.

"You guys are gonna have to jump," the hero called, observing the crumbling brick.

"Again?" Eddie, snapped, only this time not very pleased about jumping into the river below.

"Jesus Eddie, you'll dry off," X scowled.

The metal began to give again and everyone on the landing held tight to the railing.

"We need to get the hell off this thing," Jason ordered.

"Noted," Enigma said and jumped without a second thought.

"See Eddie, at least she has some balls," X said pulling himself up.

"Fuck you," Eddie spat and leapt down to the river below.

The thief smiled mischievously. "My work here is done, see you kids at bottom."

Jason smiled sarcastically as the metal cried. "Yeah I hope you bludgeon your face on the way down, asshole."

"Right back at ya, JT."

X threw himself over the bar, plummeting to the water below, meeting his friends who'd already surfaced, on the way down.

Jason looked over at Duela who was still clinging to the railing for dear life. "Your turn, sweetheart."

She looked over at him, but shook her head no.

"The landing isn't gonna hold both of you," Dick shouted, the steel giving way again. "One of you is gonna have to jump."

"Duela, please just go with the others, it's not that far a fall."

"I can't—" she pleaded, the landing slipping further, "—I can't swim!"

Dick looked down at her, seeing the fear biting at her like a cat dangling over a bathtub. The primal fear gripping her in a way logic could hardly overcome.

"It's okay Duela, I'll jump with you, alright?" Dick finally said. He looked over at Jason who was also clinging to the railing for dear life. "You need to jump, Jay."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, burning buildings and guided falls are two things that are very much in my wheelhouse. Piece'a cake—promise."

Jason rolled his eyes at him and how calm he could be staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Not that Jason wasn't capable of doing the same; Dick was just better at overcoming himself for the sake of others.

"I know that—" the Outlaw began, when the steel readied itself to fall. Jason caught his breath getting ready to jump, but turned to Dick once more. "Get her down safe."

"I will, Jay" Dick replied with every intention of keeping his word, "I got this."

"I know… And stop calling me that, Dickhead."

It was then Jason let his grip on the steel bars free, his body growing closer to the water with every moment lost to time. He hit the water, disappearing in a great slash, but surfaced a few moments later.

Dick slowly crept off the window ledge and onto the landing. He could still feel the heat of the fire as it had crept up on his back, leaving his flesh red. He'd begun to grow hot and a little disorientated, but he still fought to keep his focus.

If I die here, Raven's gonna dig me up and kill me all over again, and Bruce… he'll probably bring the shovel, Dick thought as he slowly stepped on the landing.

The metal whined beneath his feet, Dick struggling to not command all of his weight. Duela still clung to the railing, trying not to fall. He could see that it wasn't the actual falling that frightened her, it was the water below. He slowly sunk down beside her, the landing threatening to give away at any moment.

"Okay listen Duela, we're gonna have to jump. If the landing gives way and were are still on it, we'll die. Now I know you can't swim and that's fine. You have four people who will make sure you make it out of the river safely—I will make sure that you get of the river safely. Got it?" he nodded.

She nodded back, her face contorted into discomfort. Dick reached out his hand, offering it to her like a prayer for the dying.

"Whatever you do, do not let go of my hand."

She let go of a rough breath and nodded again in understanding, (wanting so badly to make a bad Titanic reference, but decided that now wasn't the time) as Dick slowly guided her up from her knees.

"We jump on three," he said, the steel ready to plummet within the next breath, "1, 2, 3!" Dick called, the two leaping from the fire escape just as a loud explosion bellowed from behind them.

They could feel the heat of the flames burst against their backs, the fire eating away at old chemicals left behind by its working days.

The two began to drop hand in hand, Duela's gripping his tight as she anticipated that moment when they hit the water. Dick glanced down, his breath tight, as he'd never actually attempted anything quite like this without any of the tools in his utility belt. He could hear another explosion—a loader one, and closed his eyes.

It had been a long time since he'd actually let himself fall, since he'd placed himself in the hands of fate to bring him down safely. He forgot how freeing that was, to have no control, no will over the outcome. To just accept that fear and let the fall take you.

They hit water with a violent plunge, its cool grip washing over them, momentarily devouring them both. Normally this would invoke panic, but for Dick, he found the moment somehow calming—but only for a moment. He needed to breathe, his hand still entwined with Duela's, as she trashed about crudely, fighting for the surface. Dick pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her, kicking off of a submerged rock below him. The motion quickly guided them up from the shallow depths to the world above them. He breached the surface, taking a grateful gulp of air, the smell and foul taste of the water pungent from algae and pollution. He could hear Duela's desperate gasp for air, recovering from her momentary panic.

"Come on!" he heard Jason call over the current, "we need to get out of here before cops shows up."

Dick nodded over the small waves and began paddling for the shore with his free arm, Duela still holding on to him like floatation device. Jason and X met them half way, help to guide them from the water and relieve Dick from his labors.

X took hold of the soaked girl, who seemed fatigued by the ordeal. Jason helped pull her closer to shore, guiding her to the chest-deep water so she could stand. Once Dick was free of supporting the tired redhead, he stumbled out of the brackish water, drenched and reeking of the filthy river.

Everyone was out of breath, their damp hair dripping down their winded faces. Eddie had pretty much recovered, his gaze cast toward the inferno in front of them. Dick turned, following his line of sight. What he saw was far worse than he'd previously imagined. Nearly the entire building was engulfed, windows blown out from the impact, bleeding black smoke, the smell of the burning structure high in the air.

"Come on," Jason said again, trying to catch his breath, "we gotta go."

Above his head, perched a large crow, its great wings collapsing upon its sleek back. Dick couldn't help but notice the creature, and found it quite conveniently placed.

"So that's it? We just walk away?" Dick asked through his staggering breath.

Jason looked back at him, unaware of the black bird sitting overhead. "Well what do you suggest we do? Sit here and wait for the cops to show up? Is that what you think the right thing to do is?"

Dick shook his head, his exhaustion getting the better of him. "You didn't have to kill him..."

"You're right—I didn't," Jason said vexed, "but that doesn't change the fact the he deserved it and I'm not sorry." Jason straightened his back and pushed by Dick, muttering as he went. "He was gonna die today anyway—you knew that. I was just hoping for something slower and far more painful."

Dick's face grew white and angry, unable to forgive himself for the fact that he'd willingly gone along with it. "What gives you the right to decide if someone should die or not?"

It was a bold question, one with perhaps no true or acceptable answer. Everyone remained silent as Jason stopped mid step, just barely glancing behind him.

"Because some people go their whole lives oblivious of the fact they've destroyed someone. Or worse! They just don't care that they have. Those people don't deserve a second chance, those people don't deserve to exist, especially if they will never be sorry for anything they have ever done to another!"

Dick couldn't help but feel like Jason was projecting, that he was specifically speaking to his mother, his father, The Joker, Bruce and even, of all people, him.

"So just kill them then? Like their lives don't matter, because they don't matter to you?"

"If you use your life to destroy somebody else's, then yes. If that's the cure, then I am the antidote," Jason said coldly. "I can live with that, especially if it means a piece of shit like Ricky isn't gonna ruin some innocent kid's life, Grayson."

"That's awful godly of you?"

"Yeah, only I don't see god doing anything about it."

8888

Jinx placed down a fresh change of clothes, not really concerned with parting with them. The young blonde had just finished a whole plate of food and two of Clancy's muffins. Clancy and Raven both looking on a little bewildered at the shocking display. Jinx however, understood why the girl was ravenously hungry and tried not to stare at her too closely.

"I promise you, sweetheart, the kitchen's not go'n anywhere," Clancy finally assured with a laugh.

"I'm sorry," Mia replied, taking a breath and wiping her face, "I just haven't eaten a full meal in while."

Clancy smiled weakly, realizing the poor girl was probably kept half starved to death. "That's alright, darl'n. I'll go fetch'y another sandwich."

Clancy turned and set off to the kitchen while Jinx mentioned that she was going to check on Schizo, leaving the young girl with Raven. She noticed her thin frame, how fragile she looked, almost sickly. Her makeup was a mess, garish black eyeliner and heavy mascara finding its way into the creases of her eyes. Mia peered up at her through her spidering lashes, and Raven smiled at her, noticing the cut on her lip.

"Mind if I take a look at that?"

Mia nodded reluctantly, recalling that Raven was to tend to her wounds.

Raven lifted her hands slowly and gently placed them to the young girl's face. With the lightest touch, Raven turned her head, giving the small gash a scrutinizing look. Mia was shocked at how graceful Raven's hands were, how careful they were to not even treat her a little rough.

"That should really be cleaned out," Raven finally said and leaned down to pull the first aid bag out from under her chair.

She opened it and removed a bottle of cleaning solution and a long cotton swab. The cut was still pretty fresh and Raven warned her that the treatment might sting. She lightly applied the tip of the cotton to the shallow split in her lip. Mia winced a moment, feeling the torn flesh quiver at the sensation. It had been so long since anyone had treated her wounds. She felt like a bit of a wimp, dwelling on the irony that she could so easily take a hand across her face, but was tearing up over the small sting of astringent.

"You okay?"

A tear rolled down Mia's cheek as she looked into Raven's odd violet gaze. "Yeah, I'm just—" She couldn't finish the sentence, it hurt more than she felt it should.

"Just what?" Raven could see the girl was overcome with more than just a poor pain tolerance and recognized the look in her eyes.

"Nothing, I'm just—"

"Not use to people being kind to you?" Raven finally said, finishing her sentence.

Mia's brow furrowed, unsure how Raven could even know that, feeling like a fool for even crying over it. "You must think I'm some sort of freak? God…"

"No," Raven said applying an antibacterial cream to the cut and disposed of the swab, "I actually understand the feeling."

"How?"

"Because once upon a time, when I was about your age, I wasn't used to people being nice to me either," Raven began. "I was more accustomed to people being afraid of me—hating me even. That was my life. That's what I knew."

Mia looked down, understanding the loneliness that came along with that life. "What changed?"

"I met people who cared," Raven said, "and for the first time, I knew what it felt like to be loved."

Raven's eye filled with a little sadness, recalling how awful her life sounded, and realized that the 16 year-old prostitute actually felt sorry for her.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Raven said trying to put the focus back on the girl, "because you know what that's like."

"I tried to tell myself that Richard loved me, but I know he didn't. If he did, then I wouldn't be sitting here, having this conversation with you."

Raven looked back her perplexed. "Richard?"

"His name was Richard…" Mia replied ruefully.

"Oh…"

"Is something wrong?" Mia asked, seeing Raven growing a little distant, like she was lost in a more personal thought.

However, before Raven could answer, the door swung open to reveal a group of five individuals, resembling drowned rodents. Raven shot up with concern as Clancy stammered out of the kitchen with confusion.

"Well I'll say that this puts a whole new meaning to the term, I like a man who can laugh at himself when he's wet," the Irish girl drawled with a giggle.

Raven also couldn't help but chuckle a bit, recalling the piece of literature Clancy'd pulled that joke from. Dick gave Raven an annoyed glance, unamused that she could actually find his predicament funny. Though he probably would have laughed too if he were in a better mood.

"Really, Rae?"

"What?" she questioned, pinching the arm of his soaked garment, "you are wet."

He rolled his eyes at her, and she could see there was something deeper in their troubled blue surface. She immediately felt regret for her need to reduce him to a joke, but once again, before she could speak, Jinx entered the room with an abrupt reaction.

"Jesus Christ, you guys smell like dead fish and garbage. Where the hell did you decide to go swimming, Courtney Love's pussy?"

"The river that connects Blüdhaven and Gotham, so you're close," Red X grimaced, pulling an unidentifiable, scummy substance from his blonde hair.

Raven couldn't help but laugh at his remark, especially because she felt the notion to be true. Dick however, still wasn't very amused, but it had more to do with his inner demons rather than the fact he indeed smelled like Love's lady bits.

"I need a shower," Dick drawled as he'd grown weary of the childish antics and the events of the day, and it wasn't even 1:00 yet.

He pulled away, making his way to the hall, Raven trailing behind him as he went. His thoughts were full and heavy with his actions and the actions he'd witnessed—even where they'd brought him. It was like reliving that moment again, that very moment of taking a life.

Raven finally caught up to him in the hall, her small hand catching his wrist. That very hand begging him to stop. He turned to her, his face a moment from shattering, and her expression fell to a deep worry she feared would not quell.

"Dick, what happened? Is everything alright?"

His eyes fell from her as his mind remained muffled. "Uh—Rae…" he began, "I just really don't wanna talk about it right now, not here." His voice was withered and defeated, a sound she'd heard fall from his lips before—it wasn't good.

"Somebody died, didn't they?"

With those words his eyes grow cloudy and grey, pressed with the rainfall that was soon to follow. "Raven, I—" he began, but stopped when he witnessed a familiar face walk through the door. "Roy?"

Dick stepped out of the hallway and toward his old friend, somehow relieved to see him.

The archer stopped only a few steps through the doorway, like he were hit by an immovable wall of an unseen nature. "Ah—what's that smell?"

His hand curled over his mouth, covering his nose, desperately trying to guard it from the burden of the unknown stench.

"That would be the scent of lost dignity," Jinx drawled sarcastically, her face flat.

"No, I know what that smells like, this is more like rotting corpse at the bottom of a cesspool."

"Wow, tell us how you really feel, Roy," Jason said, but knew Roy's easement wasn't trailing far from the truth. "Why are you here?"

"I just came by to return Raven's Jeep, if I'd known you guys were gonna go swing in a septic tank, I would worn my hazmat suit. Jesus"

"You're not the only one," X added, lifting his beer in a one man toast.

"Hey, man," Dick said reaching the young archer whose face seemed strained by not only the smell, but plagued by his shattered will.

"Eh, you too," Roy wince catching a whiff of his friend's offensive scent.

"Well it was either this or burn to death," Dick replied tiredly.

"You should have reconsidered, you smell as bad as you look."

"So do you," Dick retorted, and took the keys and credit card with a dull look.

Roy finally sat down, shrugging at his friend's comment. "So what did I miss?"

"Nothing you need to be privy to," Jason quipped, taking a quick shot of whisky to warm his chilled bones.

"Since when am I not privy? I'm the one who got this ball rolling." Roy's face grew hard, and disbanded. He looked up at Dick, hoping his old friend would back him up. "You wouldn't know anything without me."

"Okay," Jason said, "then where's that sample Dick gave you? I wanna see it."

Roy's eyes fell over to Dick, a quick glimpse of a nervous nature showing itself, but was quickly tucked away. Dick noticed this look, and immediately grew worried upon seeing it, but before he could address it, or Roy could even reply, they heard Jinx growl.

"What the hell is she doing here?" She snapped, looking at Jason with searing discontent.

"Rose?" Jason muttered, removing his attention from Roy and placing it upon the girl's sudden appearance.

She cracked an acute, uncomfortable smile, her icy eyes reading of uncertainty as she remained in the doorway like a nocturnal creature requesting an invitation to enter.

Jinx approached Jason, her hand gripping his shoulder as she forced him look at her. "Seriously JT? What the fuck is she doing here?"

He sighed, knowing that Jinx was not exactly happy with his choice in bed mates. He paused a moment, but knew there was little he could say to ease the venom that he'd soon be stung with. "I don't know? Maybe she needs help?"

"Help? You're the one who's gonna need help if she isn't gone by the time I get back!" the witch hissed.

"She isn't here to hurt anyone," Jason assured. He could see from the corner of his eye, Rose's foolish expression, something to the effect of a child rejected on the playground. "She's not who you think she is."

"You don't know that."

"I do," the Outlaw confirmed, "And stop it. You sound like my mother."

Jinx's face filled with a smugness, like a cat who'd grown weary of the dog. "I might as well be! Someone has to point out your boyish choices."

"What's that's supposed to mean and what the hell is your problem?"

"I don't trust her, and neither should you!" she snapped.

Jason shook his head, rolling his eyes. "You don't trust anyone."

"For good reason, Jason. And last time I checked, you didn't trust anyone either, so why her?"

"Do you really have to ask that question—you of all people?"

Jinx looked over at Rose as she stood awkwardly at the doorway, all eyes glaring at her with the most pervasive of stares, making her feel unwelcome. She was an outcast—a loner. Someone who knew how lonely it was on the fringe. Someone who knew what it was like to have no one.

Jinx let her livid pink eyes soften as they fell back on Jason. However, her frustration with his infatuation was still tight in her throat.

"See what she wants and get rid of her," Jinx spat and crossed her arms.

Jason reluctantly nodded and began to turn away when he heard Jinx once more.

"And Jason," she said stepping toward him with warning in her voice, "just know that nothing good can come of this." She grabbed her bag and placed the strap on her shoulder. "You know it can't."

"That's on me, Jinx, I accept that."

"Well I don't," Jinx added and pointed to Rose, "because that love, is gonna kill you."

She passed him, her anger still biting as she said nothing and walked passed Rose, purposely bumping her shoulder, like a pissed off bull. Rose winced on contact, feeling the girl's resentment practically burning her skin. And even though Rose hated the indignation, she couldn't blame Jinx for her rancid feelings. For as much as she wanted to believe that the sorceress was wrong about her, she feared she was only right.

Once Jinx was gone, Rose peered over at Jason through the sparsely crowded room, a bruised look in her eyes. His brow creased as he said nothing—he really couldn't. He felt embarrassed for her, for the fact that Jinx had an audience for her degradation and that there was little he could do to change that. He knew his relationship with Rose was dangerous, he wasn't stupid, but, admittedly a bit foolish.

He noticed Rose shift her body, to turn away. She was going to leave. The motion pushed his muscles to awaken and he urged himself forward to meet her, calling for her to stop. Once he reached her, she paused, unsure of what to do, or even if she should touch him. Jason reached out his hand and laced his fingers through hers.

"Come on," he said softly, "we can talk in private."

She nodded, a quiet expression filling those frost colored eyes. She followed him behind the bar and into the kitchen, an old room that hadn't been updated since the 60's. Rose leaned against the counter as Jason closed the door behind them, then turned to meet her. He noticed her face was long, and sulking, her eyes holding fear—loathing wadding in their icy blue pools. He knew she was afraid of something, or better yet, someone.

"What did he do?"

Rose looked up at him and pursed her lips as she replied, "Nothing… at least not yet."

She bit her lip and looked down aimlessly, while Jason pulled a small pint sized bottle of whisky from the shelf.

"He threatened you?" he asked opening the bottle and offering it to her.

"No," Rose said as she took the bottle from him and pressed it to her lips, "he threatened you."

Jason knit his brow and retrieved the bottle from her. "He's pissed about what happened on the run?"

"No," she winced. "He's pissed because Adeline made some deal with Bruce Wayne… one that involves the old Opera House in the East End. It's getting torn down."

Jason took a rather large sip from the neck of the glass bottle, his face lightly grimacing from the burned. "So what does that have to do with me?"

"He knows, Jason." Her eyes fell from him. "He's knows about us."

She crossed her arms uncomfortably, unsure what Jason would say, what he'd even do. He muttered an obscenity under his breath, and took another hard sip of the liquor and handed the bottle to her.

"So what does that mean? Am I a dead man?" His voice was sarcastic, as though he wasn't really afraid, but Rose could tell this front was more for her sake than his.

"You are if you don't do what he says," she growled in frustration and raised the bottle to her mouth. She took an unreasonable sip for a woman her size, and quickly followed it with another, trying to dull the pain of her father's request.

"Whoa, slow down there killer, the bottle isn't leaving the station," Jason said with a light chuckle, trying to lighten the mood.

"This isn't a joke, Jason. Jesus!" She placed the bottle on the counter and sat down, her face falling to her hands, defeated. Her finger roughly rubbed her temples and the bridge of her nose, then finally rested over her soft lips, covering her clear pout. Her pale eyes looked up at him from beneath furrowed brows, as if tears could fall at any moment, but wouldn't. "We knew this was gonna happen," she shook her head and continued, "how could we be this fucking stupid?"

Her fingers ran through her hair, Jason placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her, but she swatted it away. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her nearly empty pack of cigarettes.

She placed one between her lips and frantically began patting herself down for her lighter, but to her dismay, couldn't find it. Jason, being a chain-smoker himself, could see the frustration growing on her face, unable to recall where she'd place the damned thing. He opened a drawer and produced a box of matches, striking one before her eyes. She reluctantly let him light it for her, her eyes still hard and glassy as they peered back him. He knew her hostility toward him was a front, a wall she was trying to build to keep him away, built of pure guilt.

"So what does he want?"

She scratched her thumb over her eyebrow and glanced down, taking a long drag before she spoke. "He wants you, to take a group of your people, go to the old Opera House, and dig up all the bodies he buried in the basement and move them somewhere else—tonight."

"Shit," Jason scoffed. That really was a heavy order, even for him. "And if I say no?"

"Then he's gonna kill you," Rose spat, "to spite me." She took another long drag, trying to settle her shattered nerves.

"So you're dad wants me to clean up a lifetime worth of his mess. What? Does he think I have something to lose?"

"No," Rose corrected, "But I do—we both do." She looked back at him angrily. "He's killing two birds with one stone. He wants both of us to know our place."

"So he's gonna use my life as leverage to put you back in check?"

"Basically—yeah."

"That's pretty fucking evil."

"That's what I've been saying for the last year and a half. Welcome to the party."

Jason looked over at her and shrugged, he wasn't at all shocked by the man's threats, in fact, he kind of expected them. However, what he didn't expect was the nature of such threats. Slade wanted to make it clear who was running the show—yes, but he also wanted Rose and Jason to know who was running Rose. He was letting Jason know that she'd never belong to him.

He glanced down at the thought, a bitter glint in his eye. It was funny in a way, because no matter what, Slade won, and Rose lost. If Jason declined, Slade would attempt to, and most likely succeed, in taking him out. Then she'd be all alone, with him. Then there was the latter; if Jason fulfilled the request, Slade would gain the satisfaction of knowing Red Hood could be controlled, and would continue to use Rose against him. There was also a third option, and that was to walk away from her entirely, but he just couldn't do that to her, not now. He couldn't allow Slade to drive the idea that he didn't love her enough, if at all, into her head. He couldn't let her think that she wasn't worth fighting for.

I guess Jinx was right, maybe this love is gonna kill me…

He looked over at Rose, her face wearing a familiar scorned look. A look that could only come from one thing, being used by your own father. Jason stepped toward her and pulled her to her feet. She wouldn't look at him, her eyes hesitant to. He cupped her face in his, till her eyes met his, their stare chilly and distant.

"Rose," he began, letting his thumb trace her jawline, "do you trust me?"

Her eyes closed, his damp hands clammy on her face. "It doesn't matter if I trust you or—"

"That's not what I asked," Jason said cutting her off. "Now, do you, Rose Wilson, trust me?"

"Yes," she nodded, letting go of her reluctance.

"Then let me handle this. I said it before and I'll say it again. I'm not afraid of your crazy dad." Jason offered her a comforting smile, which she tried to return, but couldn't quite grasp. "It's gonna be fine, Rose, I promise."

"I know you mean that," she said softly. "I just hope you can keep that promise."

Jason let out a cocky chuckle. "Hey, have I ever lied to you?"

"Yes".

"When?" Jason laughed sardonically.

She smiled genuinely and raised her silver brow. "When you said this was never going to be anything serious."

"Oh wait, this is serious?" Jason grinned charmingly. "Cause I thought getting blackmailed by your dad was a casual thing."

Rose laughed and hit his arm playfully.

"Hey I'm not entirely wrong," Jason added catching her in his arms.

"I'd kiss you, but you smell like a chlamydia breakout in a whorehouse," she muttered as she leaned into him. "And I should know."

Jason laughed and leaned his forehead against hers. "I trust your judgment on this one. Something tells me you're probably not wrong."

8888

The room grew quiet after Jason pulled Rose into the kitchen, each individual trying to look busy. Clancy continued serving drinks and hot coffee while Eddie and Duela took off to get cleaned up. Dick sat down at the table across from Roy, asking Raven to give them a moment alone. She nodded warily and tried to busy herself by helping Clancy with the coffee.

"Ah Raven could you be a dear and fetch me some fresh cups, they're in the hallway off the kitchen?"

Before Raven could reply, X chimed in, offering to get them, and set off before anyone could object.

Dick glanced over at the exchange, relieved that X wouldn't be present for the question he was about to ask.

"You have the sample, right?"

Roy hesitated and let his gaze fall to the floor. Dick noticed Raven look over in his direction, the two sharing a subtle, but telling glance.

"You didn't?"

Roy remained silent unable to reply. He knew he'd failed, and that he'd probably burned the only bridge he had left, but he couldn't help himself, not anymore.

"Jesus Christ, Roy," Dick muttered, keeping his tone tame. "That was an important piece of evidence, how could you?"

"You wouldn't understand, Dick."

"No shit," he retorted, "I don't understand. How can you live a life that isn't even your own anymore?"

"Neither is yours," Roy said taking a sip of beer with his trembling hand, "that's why you have such a hard-on for Slade."

Dick stared back at Roy shocked at his words and how little fazed he was by them. But little did he know that their quiet argument was only background noise to another.

X reached the hall and grabbed a stack of the requested coffee cups, but before he could take them back to the bar, he overheard Jason talking to Rose. He peered over his shoulder, insuring that no one was looking in his general direction. Realizing the coast was clear, he leaned his ear against the kitchen door and caught scattered fragments of the conversation.

"And if I say no?" He his leader say sternly, but with concern.

"Then he's gonna kill you."

"That son of a bitch," X whispered under his breath as the conversation continued.

"So you're dad wants me to clean up a lifetime worth of his mess. What? Does he think I have something to lose?"

"No. But I do—we both do." X could hear how angry Rose was, how helpless she felt, something he knew all too well. "He's killing two birds with one stone. He wants both of us to know our place."

Just as these words were spoken, X realized he could feel a pair of faint eyes cast upon him and peered over to find none other than Raven staring back at him. He was startled for a moment, unsure of what she would do, but she remained unmoved, like she could see what stirred him. X walked over to her, visibly nervous.

"What were you doing?" she asked blankly, still trying to sift through the emotions that were bleeding from him.

His brow grew ruffled, his blonde hair clinging to his face like anguish. "You cannot say anything, not even to your little boyfriend." Raven attempted to speak, but he wouldn't let her. "As far as you know, you didn't see that."

She was alarmed as his tone was unusually hostile, even for him, no longer hindered by the crass sarcasm he was so very fond of. She began to speak, but just as she took breath, the kitchen door opened revealing Jason's careless face, which fell to a front when he saw Raven looking back at him. Rose too ceased her laughter, her hand feeling less confident in Jason's.

"What are you two doing?" Jason asked.

X's eyes pleaded with Raven as she kept her face as still as stone. "We were getting clean mugs, Clancy's going on about you all catching cold or motherly shit like that."

"Oh," Jason mused and walked forward, "coffee's a good idea."

Jason and Rose passed them both as Raven took a few of the mugs from X who mouthed her a grateful thank you. She shrugged, taking the cups from him and followed Jason and Rose out into the bar where Dick and Roy were currently bickering.

"Fuck you," Dick spat at Roy and shot up from the table.

"Yeah, way to control that temper, Dick," Roy replied nonchalantly, throwing more fuel to the now smoldering fire.

"Bruce was right, I should have never trusted you."

"See Grayson, I told you not to trust a junkie," Jason added from the bar. "And to think, you're the one always doling out advice."

"Nobody fucking asked you, Todd!" Dick snapped.

"Shut up and sit down, Grayson," the Outlaw spat. "I'm not trying to start shit, just pointing out a valuable life lesson you should take note of."

"No, I'm done taking orders from you!"

Jason rolled his eyes and gave Dick an ironic glare. "Okay fine Dick, then let me ask nicely. Sit the fuck down, please."

Dick's eye lit up as he was on the verge of absolutely losing his shit. However, Raven caught his glance, her lips silently informing him to do as asked of him. Dick pulled back is anger and pushed it down, taking a seat like an angry child in time out.

"Thank you," Jason patronized and looked around to assess who was present for the little ordeal. "Where's Duela and Eddie?"

"Upstairs showering," Raven said pouring Jason a cup of black coffee.

He thanked her and told her to bring Dick a cup and go sit with him. She nodded, noticing how much gentler Jason was with her than he was with Dick or Roy, it almost perplexed her.

"What about Hogan, where's he?"

"He's out doing some errands, he should be back in hour or so," Clancy replied.

"Good," Jason said. "Clancy, why don't you take Mia upstairs and show her where she will be staying?"

Clancy nodded and motioned for the young girl to follow her in a motherly manner. Mia gave Raven a worried look, the empath trying to offer an empty smile to lift her spirits, but feared it did little. She watched her leave somberly as she placed the cup in front of Dick, who was still fuming. She looked at him a moment before sitting down beside him and leaned in so that her soft lips where just at his ear.

"Get it together," she whispered and looked back at him sternly, her eyes lit with the air of consequence.

Dick let out a rough breath as she sat, trying to remember himself.

Once Raven was seated and Clancy had removed Mia from the room, Jason began his order of business. "You might wanna head out now, Roy?" Jason said; it was hardly a suggestion.

Roy's brows abruptly knit, his eyes stormy beneath. "No," he asserted, "I've been a part of this longer than any of you. I'm staying."

Jason shook his head and crossed his arms tiredly. "Fine, but only because it's been a long fucking day and it's hardly noon. Plus you can keep a secret, not that anyone's gonna believe anything you have to say."

Roy's upper lips snarled, making him resemble a scorned dog, the crease in his brow growing ever deeper. "I'm still staying. It's gonna take more than just my damaged ego to move me."

"Believe me, I know," Jason drawled, clearly over it. "But anyway, the reason I'm only talking to a small handful of you is because, despite all our differences," Jason said narrowing in on Dick, "I know I can trust you. And what I'm about to tell you needs to stay within this group, Okay? Not a word of it to anyone."

"Jesus Christ, JT," X drawled, knowing whatever he was about to say couldn't be good.

Jason glanced back at X with an underwhelmed shrug, like there wasn't really much he could do to soften the blow.

"Slade's pissed about the run, he thinks we could have done better. Obviously, he's holding me responsible, and has taxed me with an unpleasant task to get right with it."

It was a lie.

"How unpleasant we talking?" X asked from behind the bar.

"Unpleasant enough that we're gonna have to dig up some old history and bury it someplace no one's ever gonna find it."

Dick glared up at him, completely at a loss. "You're fucking kidding me?"

"I wish I were, Grayson. Believe me. The last thing I wanna do is go charging into the old Opera House and dig up a bunch of stiffs, especially because some fucking psycho told me to," Jason quipped, truthfully. "But unfortunately, I have little choice in the matter—y'know, if I wanna keep breathing."

Dick buried his face in his bare hands, their memory of red still clear as he caught the sinful scent of iron on them. Raven placed her hand on his shoulder and looked up at the Outlaw, the white-haired girl standing behind him. Raven let her glance fall on her, noticing the weary look in her fair eyes. There was something just under the surface, something amiss and Rose could see it. Raven looked over to Jason again, he wasn't telling the truth—he was protecting her.

"So what is Slade going to do if you say no, Jason? And by all means, be blunt," Raven warned.

"I don't need to be blunt with you, Raven," Jason replied, knowing the sorceress was practically a living lie detector. "You're a smart girl, you know what he's gonna do to me."

She laughed with an eyeroll. "And here I thought the legendary Jason Todd was impervious to the Great White Beyond?"

"Yeah well if there's one thing I've learned," Jason droned, "it's that no one is above death, the reaper comes for everyone at some point."

"So how much time before the reaper come for you, Hamlet? Should I go dig up a grave so you can talk to Yorik?" X grumbled and placed down his beer.

"Sure, we're gonna have to dig up Yorik anyway. So yes, get your shovel and go memorize the Grave Digger's speech, cause we gotta do this shit tonight."

"Mother of Christ," X drawled and began to chug his beer with vigor. "I am not nowhere near drunk enough for this bullshit."

"Yeah I think Christ is gonna sit this one out. Grayson, you in or out?" Jason asked tiredly. "And I'll understand if you're out…"

Dick looked up at him and laughed uncomfortably. "Why the fuck not?" he quipped. "I mean my line of decency has been crossed so many times today, I'm beginning to feel like I don't even have one anymore."

"Dick really, you don—"

"No, nothing makes any sense anymore, might as well run with it."

Raven's face fell into worry, as turmoil gripped her heart in a suffocating grip. She knew something was wrong, deeply wrong, and she needed to see that it was mended before the ties of Dick's sanity completely unraveled.

"I'll do it—I'll go."

Both Dick and Jason stared in at her, like an insect under a microscope.

"No Raven, you won't," Dick said turning to her. "There is no fucking way I'm gonna let you debase yourself like that."

"What?" Raven asked as her face grew with irony. "You're allowed to go grave digging, but I can't? Who the hell are you, my dad?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Dick defended. "I just don't think you going is a good idea."

"Like anything we've done in the last week's been a good idea?" Raven retorted, finally falling victim to the overwhelming feeling of the room.

"Hey, if Sunshine wants to help dig up some fucking skeletons, I say let her. It's not like this is the worst thing any of us have ever done…" X added, finishing his beer and paused,"…Well, at least on purpose."

Roy looked over at Raven and Dick, who were still a little at odds over the matter. "I'll go, Raven shouldn't have to."

"Oh hell no, the Junkie stays here," X growled and stared at Jason.

"Uh, the Junkie is right here."

"Don't care."

"But I wanna help!" Roy insisted.

"You wanna help, good," Jason finally sighed, frustration boiling in his skull. "You stay here and babysit the prostitot."

"That's a bullshit errand," Roy bitched in disapproval.

"No shit, Roy," Jason exclaimed, "and if you wanna help us, then you're gonna do what it takes to earn everyone's trust back, cause you sure as hell haven't done shit to make anyone believe in you lately."

Dick's eyes softened as Jason's voice raised to a belittling tone, something he recalled being on the other side of. Only then, Dick was a 15 year old boy looking up into the eyes of his disapproving father.

He could recall the disappointment bleed from Bruce's voice like a violent rainfall, his words thunderous as they spoke of mistakes and misused responsibility. But there was something else there—fear. Fear that Bruce had almost lost him, fear that he could still lose him. That was why he fired him—that was why Dick left. He couldn't stand to be looked at, or treated, as though he were nothing more than a wounded child, once again overcome by his father's shadow.

"Fuck this, I'm done," Roy finally growled and rose from his chair.

"Roy, wait," Dick pleaded.

Roy paused, his form a little shaky as he wavered whether to turn or not.

"Just let him go, Dick. He's got a high to chase anyway," Jason said numbly.

Roy scowled. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"You heard me," Jason replied coarsely. "Now get the hell out of my bar."

Roy's face darkened with anger and resentment, but he couldn't deny any of it, especially the part about people not taking him seriously. Because as far as anyone in the Justice League was concerned, Roy lost all credibility the second he put a needle in his arm.

He turned, his face still shallow and cold, his pride taken by the undertow as the tide came crashing in on him. With contempt, he swung the door open and slammed it, leaving a vexed air as he exited the bar. Dick flinched at the collision, feeling guilty for letting Jason speak to Roy like that, though part of him couldn't blame him for it. Jason wasn't one to caudle people's weaknesses or allow them to make excuses for their bad behavior, ironically, a lot like Bruce.

Jason looked over at everyone in Roy's absence, feeling the hostility and discomfort awkwardly filling the air. "Okay, why doesn't everyone go get cleaned up. We'll talk more about this later. But in the meantime, we gotta have a meeting about last night and figure out what the hell happened."

"Yeah I need a fucking shower," X growled and sulked away.

Dick shook head with a shrug. "Like a shower's gonna fix anything."

Jason looked over at Raven, concerned, then glanced over at Rose who seemed just as out of place. "Hey Rae, why don't you and Rosie go for a walk and clear your heads. I gotta talk Dick, alone."

Raven looked at Dick, once again not wanting to leave his side, especially in his current state.

"It's okay, Rae," Dick said staring at the floor, "I have a few things I have to say to Jason anyway."

He looked back at her, his face stone. This worried her, as she wasn't sure leaving Jason and Dick alone was a good idea.

"Rae, I got this."

She nodded. "Okay." She got up from her chair and approached Rose awkwardly.

Rose smiled crudely at her and turned to Jason.

"It's okay, Raven's new here, she'll play nice, right Rae?"

"I've been playing nice since I got here," Raven smiled patronizingly. "You two better follow suit, or I'll fucking slap you both."

"I think I'm gonna like her," Rose said with nod.

"Yeah I have feeling you two will get along just fine," he smiled ironically, wondering if this was, indeed, a wise choice.

The two women exited the bar, leaving the two feuding men to themselves. Dick and Jason just stared back at one another, the two of them waiting to see who would speak first.

"You didn't have to talk to him like that," Dick finally said, breaking the silence.

"But he can talk to you like that, for calling him out on his bullshit?" Jason replied.

Dick glanced down at the floor, an embittered look on his face. He never thought he'd be the one on this end of the argument. Dick was always the one correcting Jason, but it seemed the tables had turned. Jason picked up a bottle of Jack and two glasses from the bar, placing them down on the table beside and Dick sat down.

"Remember how Bruce said that we're brothers and we should act like it?" Jason asked as he cracked open the bottle.

"Yeah?"

"Well I just realized that we've never shared a drink together," Jason replied and began pouring two whiskies. "So how can we act like brother and not at least share one drink?"

"It's a little early?" Dick replied as Jason placed the bottle down.

"And this isn't my first drink of the day, Dick. Booze is how I get through my life, just like saving people's how you get through yours. So…" Jason said pushing one of the glasses over to the reluctant hero, "have a drink with your little brother."

Dick picked up the glass and cracked a thin smile. "Fine."

"That's the spirit, Grayson! Alfred would be so proud," Jason said clinking his glass to Dick's.

"Yeah cause Bruce would go on about how alcohol is poor for the mind and body, but pouting disapprovingly at everything is chicken soup for the soul," Dick rambled and took a sip from his glass, wincing from the burn.

"Speaking of pouting disapprovingly," Jason said placing his drink down, "I think we might regret sending Rose and Raven off together."

"Yeah something tells me those two are gonna have a lot to pout over," Dick smiled.

"Yeah," Jason said and glanced down at his glass and refilled it. "Listen Dick, gonna be honest with you. This errand Slade has us doing… I'm not doing it to protect me, I'm doing it to protect Rose."

Dick glanced down at his drink with a stone-like expression. "What? He gonna kill his own daughter?"

"No," Jason corrected. "He's gonna kill me, but it's not because he thinks I fucked up the run, it's to punish Rose to spite me."

"He doesn't like you sleeping with his daughter?"

"Yeah, shockingly, he's not happy with his her taste in men," Jason replied, knocking back his whisky.

"I can see why," Dick shrugged blankly. "So you're doing this because you don't want Rose to suffer?"

"Accurate."

Dick glared back at him a moment in some odd realization. "Wow… You actually care about this girl, don't you?"

Jason looked back at him a little insulted. "Is that really so hard to believe?"

"No…" Dick shrugged. "I know that you'd die to protect someone you love. I don't know, I guess it's just weird to think of you being in— "

"Yeah, yeah, I get it Grayson," Jason said cutting him off. "Humm, maybe I'm the predictable one?"

"No, you're just not that bad of a guy. Deep down, you wanna save people too."

Jason laughed. "Hey, do you remember when I first came to live at the manor?"

"Yeah?" Dick smiled. "You were a little shit, and you always stole my stuff."

"What? You had better stuff," Jason chuckled. "But remember how I kept telling you, Bruce, and Alfred that I wasn't a member of the family because I had a dad and he was gonna come back for me?"

Dick took the last sip of his whisky and stared down into his empty glass, recalling the heartbreaking statement. "Yeah, that was sad."

"Cause you knew he wasn't coming back for me."

Dick nodded.

"And do you remember when I finally realized it?"

Dick glanced up from his glass, cradling it with two hands, his eyes looking deep beyond the confines of the wall. "Yeah," Dick said as he recalled the scene.

He'd just come down from a few long hours of studying. Bruce was out on patrol, leaving Dick in charge of Jason, as Alfred was off that night. It was shockingly quiet, and Dick began to wonder what the boy had been up to. He'd checked his room to find it vacant, then set out to look for him in the manor. Dick remembered feeling worried that the boy had snuck out, (Bruce would have had his head!) but luckily for Dick, he found Jason hiding as he sobbed under the dining room table. Dick's heart sank at the childish site, recalling himself doing something similar upon his arrival.

"Hey, you okay, buddy?"

Dick lifting up the fine table cloth as Jason sat with an old hat his father had given him.

"What do you care? You don't even like me?" Jason spat, trying to wipe his tears, hoping Dick wouldn't notice them.

Jason had been taught by his father that crying was never an option, that as a man, you just kept punching though. Real men didn't cry.

"I like you just fine, Jay, it's your shitty attitude I'm not fond of," Dick corrected wittily. "Mind if I join the party?"

Jason shrugged, letting out a few pitiful sniffles and wiped his red nose on his sleeve. Dick crawled under the table and sat beside the little boy, his childish pout leaving him less hostile.

"Nice digs, kid," he joked trying to put a smile on the child's face, but to no avail.

"What do you even want?"

Dick frowned a little and looked over at him. "I wanna know why you're upset?"

"I'm not upset," Jason insisted childishly, his irrationality plaguing eyes.

"Okay," Dick said calmly, "I just thought with your dad gone you'd feel sad. I know I was really sad when my dad went away?"

Jason just looked over at him like a distraught puppy and asked, "Did you cry?"

"A lot." Dick's face fell a little. "I still do sometimes, it's normal to."

The tearful boy looked down at the worn out hat in his hands that held it with loss, recalling the very day he'd received it. Jason's father had taken him to a football game, in an attempt to help ease boy's distress after his mother'd runoff. It was his fondest memory of the man, and for all of Willis Todd's faults, he had done his best to care for the boy. Though even with his best intentions, there was a lot to be desired, but to Jason, his dad was God. And Dick understood that explicitly well.

"Dick," the boy sniffled, his eyes still pinned on the hat.

"Yeah, Jay?"

"Do you think my dad ran off like the cops say he did… or do you think he…" Jason couldn't finish the statement, because either way, that little boy lost.

Dick could feel his heart bleed a moment, sinking into his stomach to a point even Bruce was not impervious to. He wasn't really sure what to say, each choice was so hopeless. So Dick went with the one he thought would hurt less.

"No. I don't think your dad would have ever left you?"

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the truth. Dick had no idea what Jason's father would actually have done, but Dick couldn't bear to let that little boy think that his father, his hero, abandoned him.

A few more tears came pouring down the boy's face as it turned beat-red. He sat alone and just sobbed. Dick knew that feeling of utter loneliness, and the emptiness that threatened to engulf whomever it had been cast upon. That feeling of being truly alone, like someone had just ripped out your heart and lungs, yet somehow, you were still left breathing, though you don't know how.

Dick reached out his arm and pulled the mournful boy into a one armed embrace. Jason completely let go of all his father's "tough guy" philosophy and cried into Dick's shoulder for a substantial amount of time. It was at that moment, Dick made it his personal mission to see that he was there for Jason. That he would be the older brother he needed, and on a subconscious level, be for Jason what Bruce couldn't.

Jason reached over and filled Dick's glass with a few more fingers of whisky, pulling Dick back to the present moment.

"I know you told me that because you didn't want me going my whole life thinking that dad my dad bailed on me," Jason said. "And I never thanked for that."

Dick smiled and shrugged. "You believed your dad loved you, I didn't wanna see that be taken away from you."

"There were a lot of things you didn't wanna see taken away from me," Jason replied, recalling how much Dick had done for him during that time. "You were my big brother, and despite our differences, I really needed that."

Dick smiled back at Jason sentimentally, actually missing those days when the two were genuinely there for each other.

"Listen Dick, I know we are completely different people now, and I know that we haven't acted like brothers since the whole Joker shooting you thing, and I'm sorry for that. You were right to blame me. Hell—I blame me—but, I really need you to be my big brother right now."

"Appealing to my humanity—smart," Dick replied and placed down the glass beside him.

"Hey, I learned that trick from you," Jason smirked with a cocky grin.

Dick cracked a weak smile. "I don't know, Jason. Ever since Rancid, I haven't been much of a hero. I can't even save myself from myself. Maybe Roy's right, maybe I'm not living my own life anymore?"

"Dick, you never have," Jason said. "You did everything Bruce and League ever asked of you. You were the perfect student, son, sidekick—that was a lot to live up to. Trust me, I tried, and failed pretty miserably. But you met all expectations, no matter how difficult, and I kinda hated you for it…"

"No shit."

"It wasn't until I actually saw you fail that I realized you really were human, that you had limits too."

"You have no idea."

"My point is," Jason continued, "you gave a lot of yourself to achieve that. You always did what you were told, and on the rare occasions you did step out of line, it was like a fucking travesty."

Dick smiled devilishly. "Like the time I got suspended for fighting because Bullock's shithead kid locked you the janitor's closet?"

"And Bruce acted like you killed the Pope," Jason added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, he was so pissed," Dick mused with amusement. "Harvey Jr. had it coming though. I hated that kid."

"I could tell, you beat the shit outta him," Jason nodded with realization.

"Yep, I broke his nose in three, places. I remember Bruce bitching incessantly about paying to fix it."

"And then pouted disapprovingly," the outlaw grinned.

"Yeah that was the beginning of the end for me in Gotham," Dick said somberly. "People looked at me differently after that."

"Because you didn't follow the Dick Grayson protocol. You made a decision based on an impulse and everyone judge for it."

"And they still do," Dick added a little bitterly. "It doesn't matter how many lives I save, if I take one, even on accident, the rest don't count."

"You can't save everyone, Dick, especially someone who doesn't wanna be saved. You need to stop trying to do that."

"Yeah if only it were as easy as that," the hero sighed, thinking of the handful of people he'd been unable to help and how many hours of sleep he'd lost over them. "And now we gotta go dig up god knows how many bodies! As if today couldn't get any worse…"

"It's like only 5or 6."

"Only 5 or 6—that's precious," Dick droned sardonically.

"Okay, okay," Jason conceded.

"Y'know," Dick said, "you should really take your own advice."

"What do you mean?"

Dick shook his head at the irony. "You're trying to save that girl from her father, but I have a feeling she doesn't wanna be."

Jason peered into his glass, his face solemn and long. He looked up at Dick again, and chewed a little on the irony as he replied, "Would you walk way?"

"Probably not."

"Well neither can I."