The Batarang That Sliced the Red Hoods Neck Chapter 2, a batman fanfic

2: Nightwing and Alfred

Jason sat with his head bowed. Warm tacky crimson dripped down his back under the kevlar spandex, probably from the gaping hole in his shoulder. It was a lucky shot, armor piercing rounds that shouldn't even be in the Alley. He'd been working hard to keep those out of his city. A lotta good that did him. On top of it all, he'd failed to save someone in his alley.

He could still see the girl's pale life-less face, mouth agape in a silent scream, blue eyes glazed and sightless. They'd beaten her to death when she failed to dredge up due drug money. He had almost lost it. He'd almost lost the fragile peace he'd been working so hard to maintain with the Batfamily. But rather than bodybags, he'd settled for putting them in full body casts. He knew one guy who'd be eating out of a straw for weeks.

There was little doubt in his mind that he'd still get flack for it. The bat didn't appreciate the kind of brutality Hood had shown tonight. He'd grit his teeth, just sit through it. He knew he probably deserved whatever he got. He half expected Bruce to use his fists to get the point across. The old man had done it once before. A cold chill settled in his gut, mind fogging over as he let himself see the the young woman he'd failed so miserably to protect.

He was aware that he was slowly yet surely slipping into shock. Blood loss'll do that to a man after a while. Yet, despite it all, he could barely find it in him to care. Far bellow, the police were wrapping the woman in a bodybag. They weren't shocked, weren't queasy. Queasy cops got used to the sight of dead bodies in under a month. Gotham was a pit of evil, where hundreds died each year, at least one body a night. The bats did what they could... but it wasn't always enough.

He couldn't even muster the strength to jump when a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He just stared blankly at the ground.

"If you're gonna yell at me about beating them within an inch of their lives. Get it over with." The words came out empty, filled with resigned hopelessness. If it had just been a body, he might have been fine; but things were just stacking up on him. It was getting close to... That time of year. The month he died, the month he was beaten with a crowbar... just like that woman had been.

"Hey." Nightwing knelt in front of him, pulling the chin of his mask up so their lenses locked. "I have to admit that I might have done the same thing. They're not dead. So let's count that as a win, huh?"

Jason just stared blankly at him.

He didn't even protest when Nightwing reached behind his head to depressurize his helmet and pull it off. Jay's pallor left much to be desired, a thin sheen of sweat coating way to pale skin. Nightwing took a good look at his eyes, sucking a breath in when he saw how dilated Jason's pupils were.

"You're in shock."

Jay shrugged, hissing slightly when the action jarred his shoulder. Nightwing cursed, lightly reaching forward and tugging the lapel of Jason's jacket away from his shoulder. Tacky crimson was slowly soaking into the black kevlar, surrounding the GSW. Dick inhaled, lenses narrowing. "Okay." He swallowed. "How long you been bleeding, huh?"

"A while."

"Alright. We need to get this taken care of." He reached up to his comm piece. "Agent A, I need you to send the Batmobile to my coordinates. Then prep medbay. We have a GSW, upper right shoulder..." He stood up and peered at Jason's back. "No exit wound. Looks like we're gonna need a blood transfusion too."

"Understood. I'm sending the car post haste. Do you need assistance?"

"No, I wasn't shot. It's Jason. Just have things ready when I arrive." He pulled a pressure bandage from his belt, pressing it to Jason's shoulder and ignoring the pained shudder the action recieved. "Alright. Let's get you home, Jay."

"Bruce..."

"Not there. He went on a league mission, dragged Damian with him. Something about it being a good learning experience. Tim's with the Titans, not due back for a few days." He wrapped an arm around Jay's shoulder, gently goading him to stand. As soon as he was upright, Jason took a step and nearly collapsed. He probably wound have if Dick hadn't been gripping him so tightly, one hand keeping tight and painful pressure on the wound. Jason focused on the stabbing pain, letting that agony clear his head just a little.

He'd never admit that he needed Dick's help that night. He'd never admit that he couldn't take very much of his own weight, that he actually needed Dick's help to make it off the roof. The roar of the Batmobile was a welcome sound for once in his life. "Hey, talk to me, Little Wing." Dick whispered in his ear, tightening his grip. Jason shuddered, knee trying to give out slightly. "We're almost there."

"I couldn't save her." Jason whispered, letting his head sag slightly. "They... they... She died like... I-" He shook his head. "Freaking crowbar."

Dick eased Jason down into the passenger's seat, pulling him into a half hug. "You did what you could, Jay. You did everything you possibly could have. You avenged her."

"I should have finished the job."

It was whispered, but filled with such hateful fury that Dick's throat tightened. He agreed. He honestly did. "But you stayed true to your word. No killing. You did what you could, and you did it well." There was little more that Dick could say. They all came face to face with death on a regular occurrence, but it wasn't often that you came face to face with someone who died the way you did... a mere week away from your death-aversery. Dick would be a fool to tell him things would be all right.

"Right." All Jason felt was empty.

"Master Jason, can you walk?"

Jason blinked. He'd completely ignored Dick's attempts to get him to talk the way home, letting him drone on about Bludhaven, the weather, and his job instead. He'd been keeping pressure on Jason's shoulder, babbling and working valiantly to keep him awake. When Alfred started talking though, Jason roused himself from the depths of his own mind to nod numbly.

Except he couldn't, not really. As soon as his feet were under him, he slumped into Alfred's arms.

"Oh my dear boy, why didn't you call us?"

He felt Dick and Alfred half carry half drag him to the med bay. His own legs fought a bit to help them out.

"He's in shock."

No I'm numb. Jason corrected mentally, not finding the will power to move his lips. Then it dawned on him that he may very well be suffering Hypovolemic shock from his untreated wound. The thoughts were fleeting, more impressions than anything.

"I can see that." The next thing Jason knew, he was being stretched out on a medical berth. Dick worked to elevate his legs as Alfred used shears to cut away his kevlar top. "I'm sorry, Master Jason. There's little I can do to save this jacket, but rest assured, I will replace it."

"S'fine." Jason slurred, closing his eyes. "Lost a lot more tonight..."

Alfred hummed, snipping open the kevlar and pulling it away from the wound. He was tunnel visioned, instantly assessing the wound. "Master Dick, he is as you said 'in shock,' Hypovolemic shock to be exact. Start a blood plasma and platelet transfusion immediately. Then secure an oxygen mask. I want that heart monitor running, and-"

Jason barely registered the intense pain of Alfred stabilizing his shoulder, time passing in little blurbs surrounded by moments of black time loss. He felt something cold and hard press against his cheeks; an oxygen mask, he realized. Dick's face was hovering above his. But there was a frown on his lips, gaze settling a little lower than Jason's chin. He was saying something, not to the former Robin; and his eyes were locked with Alfred's, who'd paused his ministrations. A gloved finger traced something on his throat. Oh. Jason couldn't find it in him to care that they'd seen that. Normally, this is why he avoided treatment at the cave.

That scar was a painful reminder of how mentally screwed up he'd been two years ago. On top of that, he didn't want to give them more reason to be ticked off at Bruce, or him. He wasn't sure which one of them would get the Flack about it; but that scar was his burden to bear. He didn't want to be trouble. He was enough trouble; and while he'd never admit it to their faces, he didn't like to be a burden. Dick was talking again, this time to him, the murmurs never quite processing in his mind before the pain and exhaustion dragged him under.

Dick stood frozen, staring almost stupidly at the state of his brother's chest and neck. Dozens of scars, bullet wounds, burn marks, and knife slashes that were either freshly stitched, puckered and red, or white reminders of old wounds. How many times had Hood been as bad as he had tonight, and not called someone- anyone- for help? How many times had he been forced to drive stitches through his skin rather than having help and painkillers that actually worked on him? How many times had Dick unknowingly failed to be there for Jason?

"Master Dick!" Alfred snapped, a force worthy enough to draw him from his thoughts. Cold fury settled in Dick's chest as he moved, hooking up IVs to replenish the precious fluids Jason had lost, and pressing an oxygen mask over his brother's neck. He'd already elevated his feet, so he settled at Jason's head. The kid- he had never really gotten the chance to grow up- was barely clinging to consciousness.

"Stay with us, Jay-bird." Dick muttered, watching Alfred fish for the bullet. "You want some pain killers?"

Jason didn't register, barely even blinking.

"Yes, get him the pain killers."

Dick moved to comply when his eyes dragged across Jason's neck. He froze, eyes wide. "Alfred." The fear lacing his tone caught the old butler's attention. He snapped his gaze up, and Dick reached forward, dragging a finger across the scar.

"My word." Alfred breathed.

"It's old... you didn't know about it?"

"No." Alfred pressed his lips together, returning to work. As much as he'd like to gape or demand answers, he wouldn't be able to if his charge bled out. He needed to compartmentalize and focus on the real problems. Dick on the other hand had an ever growing ache in his chest. "He did not come here for help."

Dick looked down at his fading little brother. "Something tells me he never really does."

And that was something the oldest bird planned to change.

Dick sat beside his little brother, watching his vitals like a hawk. It had taken them some time to get him stabilized, and Alfred had even gotten him on some wickedly strong pain medication. Due to the Lazarus pit, Jason's wounds healed twice as fast, but pain medicine barely touched. Bruce blamed it on his fast metabolism. Tim, friends with two different speedsters, had been the one to develop a pain medication for fast metabolisms; and at Bruce's request, had developed a dialed down version for Jason.

The retired boy wonder didn't appreciate drugs all that much, probably because his mom had been an addict. It's why he'd cracked down so hard on drug trade in Crime Alley. But, since Bruce was gone, and the wound had been severe, Alfred had made the executive decision to give him pain medication anyway.

Dick nearly startled when Jason mumbled, shifting uncomfortably and grumbling something under his breath.

"Hey, Jay... you with me?"

"Nah..." Jason slurred. "M'in Candyland..."

"Oookay then."

"Gotta follow the p'rple road... Find s'me acid to melt the J'ker. Tin bat d'sn't want me to... To... Uh..." Jason slipped into mumbling incoherently. Dick just blinked. Finally the retired Robin went still again, and Dick settled back in his chair. Huh. Pain meds make him loopy.

"Th'n Bang!" Dick jumped. "Thr'w a flying monkey b't'rang at m'neck." His fingers inched up to rub the scar. "W'nt mute... J'ker got th'cid.. Mmmm... f'nny."

"Uh...?" Dick was frowning now, "So uh... Tin Bat gave you that scar on your neck?"

Jason hummed incoherently, shaking his head. "Nnn... N't l'stenin... Flyin' monkey b'tarang."

"Right..." Cold dread filled Dick's chest, welling up from a locked down section of his mind. Bruce had screwed up countless times, with all of them. And every time he either directly or indirectly hurt one of them, he locked the hurt away and ignored it. But every time something else happened, cold, bitter, angry fire tore free; and Dick felt less and less control every time.

"C'n I go back to sleep now?"

"Sure." Dick patted Jason's bicep gently, never taking his eyes from the scar, fingers on his free hand tapping the call button. "Get some rest."

"You called, Master Dick?"

"Yeah... I just had the most bizarre and enlightening conversation in my life.." Dick stood at the bat computer, tone clipped in anger. "I need the access codes to Bruce's cowl footage."

"May I ask why?"

"That scar on Jason's neck. He woke up, wasn't very lucid; but he let onto more than he realized. He was talking about his return to Gotham... I think. Alice in Candyland edition... would'a been funny if he didn't say that tin bat threw a flying monkey batarang at his neck to stop him from melting the Joker with acid... I don't have all the details about Jay-bird's return, but I do know he tried to kill the joker."

"That he did." Alfred looked troubled, reaching past Dick to insert the codes into the computer. Dick was a master hacker. He could have accessed the codes in no time flat. Dick knew it. Alfred knew it. There was another reason the first boy wonder had asked his grandfather to do it. They both needed to see it.

"Alright..." Dick's finger dragged down the scroll button. "Two years ago... two years ago... There's a whole bunch of footage missing.. a big block of dates. Jason's not here."

"Do you suppose he erased it?"

"Maybe. But we both know Bruce. He was in strong denial at the time; however, he always keeps his case notes for future reference... even the ones of Jason's death. I think he probably transferred them to a place where he could access them only if need be. A place he would have to work a little harder to access."

"Hmm, quite right Master Dick... Perhaps check his cold cases file."

"Not a bad idea, Al." Dick closed out of the Cowl footage, accessing Bruce's cold case notes himself. There weren't many, but at the very bottom, he found one labelled-

Restricted Access.

"Should we?" Dick actually sounded hesitant. Then the cold denial swelled. Bruce wouldn't- couldn't- do that to Jason... right? They needed to know. It was Alfred who clicked.

"Bingo."

He found the video by the unintentional thumb nail. Jason, with wickedly green eyes, holding a gun to the Joker's head. With bated breath, Dick clicked the video. He'd never seen this first hand. He'd watch every video involving the entire indecent before the night was out. But this would satiate his curiosity, quell or enrage the fury in his gut. It hurt to watch, to hear Jason pleading with Bruce, evidentially out of his mind with grief and anger. I should have been there. Things escalated, badly. Dick could have thought of several ways on the fly to handle the situation without what happened next. Because low and behold, Bruce did indeed throw a batarang. Dick's stomach dropped; the cup in Alfred's hand shattered against the cave floor.

"Holy Crap..." Dick lurched from the seat, fingers pressed into the cool metal desk, eyes wide in disbelief. "Holy freaking Crap. He did it. He actually... threw a knife... at Jason's neck!"

"Nnnn... Ow-"

"Hey, take it easy. We weened you off the pain meds last night. You've been pretty out of it."

Jason's blinked, eyes assaulted by the glare of the medical bay's operating lights. Dick reached over to turn them off, replacing them with the soft blue glow of the ambient wall lights instead.

"Sorry, we just checked your stitches. Needed the light. How do you feel?"

Jason's neck was stiff, but he managed to tilt his head over and look Dick in the eyes. His throat was dry, meaning they'd had him drugged. Wait, Dick had said that already. It gave the dead boy wonder a chance to take stock of his injuries. His shoulder, obviously, was the worst. He'd managed to re injure his ribs in the scuffle with those drug dealers, but overall, they were just bruises. He was alive...

"How long?" He croaked.

Dick checked the monitor next to Jason's bed. "About twenty-eight hours. Your healing factor's done a lot. How do you feel?"

"I'm fine. I'll get out of your hair." He moved to sit up, his head spinning almost as soon as he did. Dick's hands were on his shoulders, shoving him back down.

"Oh no you don't. You're staying put... at least until supper. Alfred's making your favorite."

Jason flinched, letting his head sag back. "Really I-"

"Bruce won't be back until tomorrow night... if that's why you're running. But honestly, we need to talk about that."

"My problems with Bruce are mine and mine alone."

"That's not what I meant. I'm talking about the running." Dick put a hand on Jason's arm, drawing his attention. "You know you can always call us when stuff like this happens, right littlewing?"

Jason didn't respond, wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Look, I know we've had our differences in the past. I do. I'd be foolish not to acknowledge that we've definitely had our spats. But you're my little brother. I haven't shown it like I should, and that's on me. But I'm trying, honestly. I want to do better; I want to be there for you... for all of you." He was of course referring to the other robins. "I'm not going to force you to do anything; I don't have that right... But if you're down, hurting, injured... I want you to call me. I won't involve Bruce; I'll... I'll bring Alfred and come to you."

There was something akin to surprise in Jason's eyes. Dick felt a surge of triumph.

"Please, Jason. Stop trying to carry all your burdens alone."

"Dick... just... don't. I've always carried my own burdens. No one's really ever been around long enough to help me. You can't take the circus out of the trapeze artist, and you can't take Crime alley out of the street rat. Every time I've put my trust in others, I've been let down. I've let others down. I deserve to walk this road alone."

"I'm sorry, Jay." Dick lowered his head.

"Don't-"

"But I'm your family. You're right. I wasn't there for you; but I am now."

"We're not, family." It sounded dead, resigned. Dick shot him a look.

"You don't get to make that call."

"What-"

"You don't get to tell me who or what I am. If I say I'm your family, that I'm gonna be there for you, then that's my prerogative." A fiery passion had lit Dick's voice on fire, and Jason couldn't find it in him to tell the big bird to shut up. "I will be there for you. Do you understand?"

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I'm not."

"I must agree with Master Dick." Alfred' voice carried from around the corner. Jason tilted his gaze as Alfred appeared. "You are expected to call at least one of us when your injuries are this severe. Unlike Master Dick, I am making that an order. Do we understand each other?"

Jason's refute died in his throat, eyes widening. Alfred was ticked. At him? He lowered his gaze guiltily. "Yes, sir."

Alfred's hand lightly gripped his. "Oh my boy, I'm sorry. I'm not upset with you. " He and Dick shared a look. "Not entirely at least."

"Wha-"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Dick demanded sharply, tone suddenly angry. He pointed at the scar on Jason's neck.

"I... it's old. A reminder of how mentally messed up I used to be."

"No, it's a reminder that you- we have a crappy excuse for a father sometimes."

Jason went wide eyed. "You know?"

"You were high on pain meds. Deliriously reciting your return to Gotham... You were probably thinking about it when you passed out."

"Oh..."

"Bruce and I will be having words. Lots of them."

"You don't have to-"

Dick leveled Jason with a furious gaze. "You're not the only one he's hurt in some way or another. This was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Alfred and I... we watched all the cowl footage. I could tell you were insane, and there was no excuse for Bruce not seeing it too, for not handling it better."

"But you know me now." Jason pointed out. "That's how you could tell I was insane. But Bruce didn't have a basis, didn't know that there was hope-"

"That's not an excuse." Dick growled. "He threw that batarang. He could have killed you."

"Wouldn't that have just been better?!" Jason cried in frustration. "I'm a mess! I'm a screw up! Every one knows that." Alfred gripped his hand like a lifeline, eyes wide and panicked.

Despite the horror he felt at those words, that wasn't what he chose to address at the moment. It was time to level the playing field. "Yeah, well I'm no angel either. I'm the one who actually killed the Joker." He shot back.

"What?"

The golden boy dragged a hand down his face, looking suddenly aged and tired. "I beat him to death. I thought he'd... killed Tim, and then he started... talking about you... and I lost it." He looked guilty, but not that much.

"But he's alive now."

"Since when does death actually... you know... stick?" Jason shrugged slightly. "And honestly? I'm glad death doesn't stick. I'm glad you're alive, Jay. Please don't ever believe that we would be better off without you. You're just lying to yourself."

"Indeed, Master Jason. Such thinking breaks this old man's heart."

"Okay... Okay..." Jason couldn't find it in himself to believe them fully, not Dick at least. Alfred had this way of getting past all your defenses. It would take some time yet for Dick to do the same; though he'd made significant progress tonight. "Okay." When Dick hugged him from the side, Jason let his head rest on his older brother's shoulder. It was probably the pain meds, but the embrace wasn't entirely unwelcome this time.

Bruce was tired, beyond tired. As he stepped from the glowing vortex of the boom tube, he let his shoulders sag slightly, his posture droop. Dragging his cowl back, he sighed slightly. The only things left to do were update his files and get some shut eye. Damian looked spry as ever. Oh the blessings of youth.

He still sent him upstairs to bed. As soon as the elevator door slid shut behind the youngest robin, the swivel chair in front of the bat computer slowly turned to face him. Dick was sitting there, elbows on the arm rests, fingers pressed together in front of his chest.

"Hello, Bruce." His tone was icier, derived right from the Arctic. Bruce did a double take. Nightwing was mad.

"Dick..."

He tapped a button on his phone. Suddenly a video sprung to life on the monitors. An infinitely looped video, a GIF. It consisted of a flying batarang, one which embedded itself into Jason's neck. Then the video repeated. Bruce felt his throat tighten. Oh.

"Ah, so you've noticed my little project!" Dick said with a plastic smile and fakely cheery tone. "I mean, I couldn't figure out why Jason insisted on handling all his highly lethal wounds personally... But then he told me... Told me that he believed we'd be better off with him gone or dead... Not to mention the fact that he was -for reasons still beyond me- defending you."

"Dick-"

"Oh no, don't you Dick, me. You screwed up. Again. And then, guess what! You left your mess to get infected, to spiral out of control! Jason's gonna get himself killed 'cause you're an idiot! Throwing a freaking batarang at your son's neck! What happened to no killing huh? That was a kill shot, BRUCE!" Dick waved his arms for emphasis, beyond livid. "You won't break your no kill rule for the Joker, but when your hurt and betrayed son comes back, and pours his heart out to you, he gets a batarang to the neck?! I mean, come on!"

Bruce stared Dick down, but every word sent daggers through his heart, left him with a growing hole in his chest. Dick had always been able to tear him apart verbally, whether the twenty-one year old knew it or not.

"Is that what's gonna happen to me? If I get mind controlled, or brainwashed. Are you going to try and kill me like you tried to kill him? What about Tim, or Damian? Do I need to be worried about what you'll do to them? I mean, you haven't had the greatest track record with me or Jay. How do I know you won't snap at them, for their mistakes?"

"Dick, I wouldn't-"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't!" Dick roared. "You did." And for the first time since he started talking, Nightwing's voice cracked. "You betrayed, Jay. You hurt him worse than the Joker ever could. Now he thinks he's worthless. Because of you." Dick stood up, glancing at the Shadows. Alfred stood, not noticeable unless you were looking for him directly. Bruce felt like someone had taken the air right out of his lungs. The man was leveling him with a grim and disappointment look, and that in and of itself was crushing. Alfred would have said something, had Dick not had it well handled. All in all, he was content to mediate, knowing that Bruce felt the wrath of both of them. Dick looked back to Bruce. "I'm not surprised he refuses to come to us for help."

There was a long moment of silence.

Finally Bruce found his voice. "I... I wasn't aiming for his throat."

Dick's eyes narrowed. "After all those lectures you gave us about not letting go of the batarang unless we knew for sure what it was going to hit... You missed." His voice was dripping with venom. "Does it honestly matter, Bruce?"

A sigh. "No."

Dick walked forward, until he was mere inches away from Bruce's face. The old bat could look into his son's eyes and see the fiery anger, all of it, all that had built up over the years. When he spoke, his voice was low and cold. "I love you, Bruce." It didn't have the usual warmth behind it. "But if you ever touch Damian, Tim, or Jay again... I will know." He leaned closer. "And I will be the one to personally put you down. I'll put you in Arkham."