Jason Todd

"Hell yes, Dickie! I think we lost those fuckers."

Panting, heart pounding, I turned around at the end of the alley to face… no one. Slowly, I peeked my head out around the edge of the crumbling brick and mortar wall, narrowing my eyes in the dark.

Silence. No Enforcers. No Dickie.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

We got separated. Not the first time this had happened - the fog at night was usually thick. Sometimes you couldn't even see your hand in front of your own face. But tonight was reasonably clear…

He just peeled off. Took an easier route. He's faster than you, he's probably already back home.

I clung to whatever lies I could. Anything to keep my heart from climbing up my throat.

Carefully, hiding in the shadows with every step, I wound back to the stadium, working hard to keep my breath steady so I could hear any potential threats. Usually this late at night, after curfew, you could hear the sounds of boots against stone as the Enforcers made their patrols. But there was nothing. Quiet.

I tried to take a new way 'home' every time. Tonight I had to spare the preamble - the anxiety was building in my chest, crushing the air from my lungs.

You're being dramatic. Dick's safe. He's probably waiting impatiently for you.

Or his shoulder and the infection caught up to him, and the Enforcers gunned him down, dragged his body off to use as propaganda.

Fuck. Keep it together, Todd.

Finally, in the depths of the tunnels underneath the concourse, I took a final look behind my back and tugged on the latch of the massive, metal door that led to our safehouse.

I pulled it shut, the hinges groaning with the weight, and turned around, eyes scanning our 'family'.

"Where's Grayson?" Damian had crossed his arms across his chest, and with his shoulders back, he almost met me eye to eye.

Or was I slumped forward a little? Hyperventilating but trying to keep it together. "We got separated. He's not back yet?"

Bruce and Selina exchanged dark glances. "I'm sure he'll be along any minute, kitten." Selina put a reassuring hand on my cheek. "He's a man who knows how to take care of himself. Now let's get you some water, you look exhausted."

I pushed back, shaking my head, "He can't take care of himself. He's a dumbass with a martyr complex. He's sick. He shouldn't have been out there in the first place!"

Who are you really mad at, Todd?

I fixed my rage on Bruce. "You! You told him to go! You knew he was in bad shape. And now, best case scenario, he's flat on his back in an alley somewhere with a sky high fever, just waiting for the next patrol to make their rounds and put a fucking bullet in his brain!"

Unmoved by my fury, Bruce sighed. "You're worried and tired, Jason. Eat. Rest. We'll discuss this later."

I was powerless, angry. I wanted nothing more than to beat the crap out of someone. I felt Cass' hand on my arm. She nodded at me, a silent understanding of how much it fucking hurt to be so helpless, then turned to Bruce. "I can search. I will find."

Before Bruce could protest, Selina shot a warning look his way, then smiled at Cass. "That's a fantastic idea. I'll join you." I opened my mouth to volunteer, but she dramatically raised a finger to her lips, shushing me, then explaining, "Jason, you need some sleep. You chased a whole team of Enforcers away from here, and you made it back. Let us take a turn topside? I need to stretch, anyway."

Resigned, I sighed heavily and nodded, the adrenaline crash pulling me down into exhaustion. I plodded over to my cot, too nauseous to eat, and flopped down. The pillow still smelled like him - his sweat and whatever soap we could scrounge. I buried my face in the threadbare cloth.

I should have held you closer, Dickie. Held you close and never let go.

Except that's not what you wanted, was it?

Tears slid down my cheeks and I lost the battle against fatigue, slipping into the darkness.

— — — — — — — —

Before

Patrol was over. In general, a good night. A few cadres of Enforcers would be off the streets for a while, and we kept them from nabbing a kid defacing a poster of our 'Beloved President Luthor'. Because apparently vandalism of his image was a capital offense these days.

Dick was panting, half bent in an alley, hands resting on his knees. His smile could light up the world, even if we were in the middle of a nuclear winter. I always felt just a little warmer when I was next to him, and I huddled close, out of sight. We still had some time before we had to head back to our bunker and check in.

I wanted to relish this moment, but things with Dickie were… complicated. That happens when you confess your undying, non-platonic love for someone who's legally your brother. And then he reciprocates. And also, it was the end of the world.

For years, all through the war, we had a relationship that was half desperation, half convenience. Then fucking Luthor happened, and while we were even more desperate, our rendezvous were suddenly significantly less convenient. Hard to maintain a taboo 'romance' when you're sharing 500 square feet with 6 other people.

So there we were, pressed together in the shadows. Shivering from cold and fading adrenaline. I grabbed him, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him.

God, it was good. I needed it. Needed him. His warm, fluid body pressed against mine, my thigh grinding against him, a maneuver that never failed to leave him breathless. I pinned his wrists against the crumbling mortar, pushed my tongue past his lips, tasting the salt of his sweat...

He turned away.

"Jay…" His chest was heaving, his eyes low, gaze fixed on the cement beneath our feet.

I let go of his arms and tilted his head up. "Look at me, Dickie. What's wrong?"

"This." I barely heard his whisper. "This is wrong, Jason. I'm sorry. When this started, the world was ending, and I needed to be close to needed each other, but now? We can't… we can't do this anymore."

A shotgun blast to the gut would have been less painful than his hushed confession.

I sputtered, confused and backing away, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Look, it's just…" he sighed, and I could see him calculating behind a wince, strategizing the best way to explain. "After the Manor was destroyed, the relocation, everything… being so close to the family… I know it's a technicality, but we're supposed to be brothers. And this…?" He gestured between the two of us, "What we've been doing? It's wrong. Someone is going to catch on eventually. I don't even want to think about the consequences of that. And we didn't have to think about it, when we were sure we were all going to die anyway. We could just… be. It's different now."

My eyes shut, blocking out his half horrified, half pitying expression. "So what? We just forget everything? I love you. You said you loved me."

"I do, Jason." He reached out and touched my shoulder, but I shrugged his hand away. "I love you enough to put your survival first. We wouldn't last a week without the 'family'. And I'm scared that this thing we have will tear us all apart. I fucked up, Jason. I'm sorry."

I nodded, venomous and furious. "Great. So we just pretend none of this happened. Ignore any feelings we have for each other. I can do that. But don't you dare reach out to me the next time you feel lonely or afraid. If we're done today, we're done for good."

He couldn't look at me as a tear slid down his cheek and he nodded, "Ok. That's fair." He sniffled a little, then cleared his throat. "We need to get back. If we miss check in they'll worry."

We ducked out of the alley and headed home. And I couldn't remember a time when I felt this fucking lonely.

— — — — — — — —

After

My eyes snapped open when I heard our bunker door screech closed and click. I rolled off the cot and stood, silently pleading for it to be Dick.

It wasn't.

Selina and Cass were back. Empty handed, looking defeated. Her he'd bowed, Cass reached out for my hands. "We searched. No brother. I am sorry."

I shook my head and squeezed her fingers. I couldn't find my voice, so I hoped she understood the unspoken message. Not your fault.

"It wasn't all in vain." Selina idly emptied her backpack as she elaborated. "We stopped to talk to one of our reliable suppliers. Matthew. Runs the bodega two blocks from here. He's always got eyes on the streets, especially after curfew." She sighed, weighing her words. "He said he saw a man running down the block just a little while ago. Enforcers caught up to him. Didn't shoot him. Actually hauled him away in one of their tactical vans."

Those of us that stayed behind exchanged perplexed glances. If it had been Dick, they would have killed him, no questions asked. All our info up till now told us there was no mercy for ex-heroes.

Selina nodded, "I was confused, too. Matty filled us in. There's some kind of court system, now. Heroes on trial. Apparently it's better for public morale if they believe there is actually some semblance of justice. In reality it's a broadcast designed to air dirty laundry, and paint us all in the least flattering light possible."

Bruce huffed, arms crossed over his chest. He turned to Tim and Babs. "We need to know everything about these trials. How often, where they broadcast from, any details you can find. If they took Dick, this may be the only way we get him back."

"You can't expect us to sit here while they do fuck knows what to him!" I was furious. The hallmark of Luthor's regime was brutality. If they had Dickie alive, I had no doubts they would stoop to the worst forms of torture to get what they wanted from him.

Bruce squared up to me, dropping his arms and stepping close. "Yes, Jason. That's exactly what I expect you to do. if you don't, Dick's as good as dead."

Fuck. I goddamned hated it when Bruce made sense.