Little Bird,
Little Bird,
Jaybird Flies again.
Fly home on the wind.
…
The message rang in Dick's ears, hearing the Romani Gypsy tongue echo in his brain even though the words had never been spoken aloud. It was a verbal language, even in typed words it was like they came to life, like they couldn't bear to be tied down on any sort of paper or computer screen.
And it wasn't some freak accident, that message, it wasn't some random person deciding to post the note on some comment section of YouTube or some blog or anywhere, because it had all the signatures that marked it as a Bat message.
Repeat the recipient, declare the situation, send the command. Post it somewhere inconspicuous, but meaningful, like adding a comment to a story on the national news website. Phrase it carefully to show who sent it, make it short and cryptic, and never use it unless it's an emergency.
It fit all the parameters, which was how Nightwing knew what to set his search programs to look for. Tim hadn't used this method of contacting him so far, though every Bat knew to keep a sharp eye out for such communication: which is why Nightwing had to be twice as careful.
If he'd gotten the signal, Batman most definitely got it too. Hell, Alfred and Barbara probably know too, and if what the message implies is really true…
Jason knows as well.
Jason…
Nightwing gripped his doorframe a bit too tightly and felt the wood splinter a bit beneath his fingers.
It…. It can't… He couldn't even squash the hope starting to build in his chest to be suspicious. He quickly changed out of his Nightwing suit and put it away—something he hadn't done for nearly a year—and found his old, simple black army get-up. This was a stealth mission after all.
He slipped what he needed into an over-the-shoulder black messenger bag and silently slipped through the tower to the garage. He took his motorcycle and was out of Jump city's limits in less than an hour after getting the message, the echoing words driving him forward without thought.
0000000000000
Tim was standing on the basketball court where he last saw his big brother over a year ago, waiting for the same boy to appear through the same shadows he'd disappeared into.
Please Dick… He begged silently. He'd only sent the message that morning, but as the sun began to sink and cast the world into a mix of blue and gray shades of dusk, he half expected to see a set of familiar blue eyes appear before him like a ghost.
The terrible part was that it wouldn't be the first ghost he'd encountered that day.
Some part of his brain told him Dick would be hesitant to come to the Manor, fearing what Bruce would think. And really, if Bruce were awake right then, Dick wouldn't be able to set foot on the property without being confronted by a fully-grown rather-pissed Bat.
Still, the message should have conveyed there was no danger, and he must just be waiting for dark, just in case. After all, message or no message, this was still Bat home-territory, and Dick probably never thought he'd be setting foot back here for quite some time.
A year was short, in the grand scheme of things, but it had been long enough for Tim. Too long even.
"Hey Timmy…" A painfully familiar voice slide out the shadows, followed closely by the outline of a man. No, not a man, a teenager, but he was slightly taller, leaner, more muscular than Tim had been expecting. His voice was lower, rougher, yet the exact same gentleness the new Boy Wonder had been dying to hear for the past 12 months.
Tim didn't say anything, he simply lunged forward and grabbed his brother in a hug. The older boy seemed shocked, even thrown off-guard a bit, but returned the hug happily.
"Miss me then?" Dick said lightly, and Tim let out an impatient sigh.
"Of course you moron."He quipped, taking a step back from their hug and looking up at his brother. Dick had a domino mask on with the black suit he wore when trying not to be seen, but as he looked down at his brother, he peeled the cover off and Tim was greeted with a pair of twinkling sapphire eyes.
God he missed those eyes.
"Not that I'm not over the moon to see you too, but are we going to run into the Bat anytime soon?" Dick asked, and Tim shook his head.
"No, he's… Dad's out for the count." Suddenly everything that had happened in the past forty eight hours came crashing down on him again. Tim knew he must've gone pale judging by Dick suddenly overprotective, over-worried, "big brother" reaction.
"Hey, hey, hey! Are you ok, kid? What happened? What's wrong with Dad?" Dick asked worriedly, putting his hands on Tim's shoulder's for comfort.
And it was a comfort, Tim felt like the world was being lifted off his shoulders.
Dick was here, he'd make this better. He'd help them figure it out.
That moment was gone as soon as it'd appeared when he realized he'd have to vocalize what was wrong. He really, really, really didn't want to be the one to tell Dick, but it was either find out from Bruce – which would not be pretty—or from… the source itself… which would arguably be the worst case scenario ever.
"Timmy?" Dick's gentle voice called him back from his internal panic attack.
"Jason-!" He gasped. He felt Dick's hands tighten on his shoulders a bit, and he too went pale.
"He's… alive?" Dick asked is such a small voice, suddenly Tim was the one worried about his brother.
Tim couldn't find his words again, he simply nodded mutely.
Dick sunk to the ground, cross-legged on the court, hands cradling his head. Tim sat next to him, leaning into his side for comfort as they shared the moment of disbelief, horror, pain, relief… they didn't need to describe what they felt, they both knew exactly what was going on in both their heads… and they just shared the moment.
"Do I want to know how this happened? Or why Dad is down?" Dick murmured.
"No." Tim said honestly. "But… but you need to know. You need to know because our brother is alive and kicking and…"
He trailed off, letting that statement alone hang there and marveling in it yet again.
"Have you seen him?" Dick asked, finally picking his head up and glancing at Tim, who went pale again.
"No," he breathed. "But I was on security detail yesterday, just… scanning cameras for this new… vigilante we've got." His breathing picked up. "This… this new vigilante…. i-it was my job t-to research into him…"
Dick sat up straighter and put an arm around Tim's shoulder pulling him in tighter. "this new guy… I suppose he's good if Bats hasn't stopped him?" Dick asked softly.
Tim tensed. God this was hard.
"No… no, he wasn't… he isn't…" He looked up into Dick's eyes, his own wide with horror at the things he'd seen. "He kills them Dickie. He flat out murders them." He marveled in shock.
"Who? The bad guys?" Dick frowned. "He kills the criminals he stops?" Tim shook his head slowly.
"B-but that's… no, that's not the point. The point is… he's Jason."
Tim felt Dick's arm tense around his shoulders before dropping away completely. He looked over, and Dick was sitting bolt straight, like he'd bee electrocuted. His eyes were wide, staring ahead, and their vibrant blue made the stare a bit unnerving.
"Let me get this straight," Dick said, suddenly at normal volume, seeming to forget they were being quiet and making Tim jump a bit. "Jason… somehow, comes back from the dead, becomes a new vigilante, and starts going on a murder spree in Gotham to get rid of all its criminals?" He concluded.
"Pretty much." Tim sighed, comforted as well as confused by his normal tone. It was a familiar rhythm for Bat children. "You forgot the part where in coming back to life he went insane and is now a homicidal maniac, but yes, pretty much."
Dick whipped his head around and his eclectic blue eyes bored into Tim's sky blue ones with shock and alarm.
"What?" He gasped. Tim felt tears unwillingly spring forth in his eyes as images of the things he'd seen Red Hood do flashed before his mind's eye, and he looked down and away, ashamed.
"Yeah…" He muttered.
"Oh Tim," Dick's gentle voice was back, and he felt the older boy's arms wrap tightly around him.
God he missed this. Tim got nothing from Bruce or Alfred, although he knew they loved him to death, they weren't huggy people (no duh). Barbara hugged people, but in greeting and goodbyes, and not like a family member or a sibling, not like someone who loved him so unconditionally the way Dick did, the way Jason used too (when no one was around of course).
But Dick liked to hug people. Dick needed physical contact to convey emotions, the same emotions playing out openly on his face. Tim remembered vividly the day he and Jason realized Dick had a problem with that, and just how he used to handle it.
Because they were brothers, and in the dead of night on patrol, or when one had a nightmare about the circus, the streets, or mobsters, they'd sit up and talk.
Dick's parents were huggy people, they'd held him in a close embrace for most of his life. In a circus where everyone was family, and a baby born into that family at a pit stop between a show in Moscow and one in Vienna, the circus gypsies had taken turns holding baby Dick. Dick said he was never put down until he was over a year old, not even to sleep, and then he'd learned to crawl, then walk, then trapeze. He skipped over the running part, which he couldn't do until he was five.
And then, up on the high-wires, he'd cling to his family, his parents and aunts and uncles, and they'd catch him, and he'd catch them.
Then they fell, and he was alone.
Bruce Wayne adopted him, called him his son, which Dick was forever and eternally grateful for, but Bruce Wayne didn't hug people.
Dick needed contact like air, like Bruce needed to fight crime, like Jason needed to run his mouth or punch someone who ticked him off. Dick needed it, and he wasn't going to get it in his new life a Richard Grayson, adopted ward of Bruce Wayne.
But then he became Robin, and he learned to fight.
Tim couldn't stand thinking about this part. Not just his own horror, but also because he remembered quite clearly Jason's reaction to it as well, and it was… sweet of him. For such an abrasive, rough person, Jason had all but threatened god himself in anger for his big brother, flat out refusing to admit that Dick didn't need help and swearing to make sure he never had to do this again.
Because Dick was an excellent fighter, but sometimes he'd get hit.
And sometimes he'd let himself get hit. And sometimes, when he felt his worst, he'd let himself get really hit, let himself get pinned or beaten or clobbered.
Just to know someone else was there.
Villains they were trying to defeat, common thugs as they stopped petty crimes, Batman as they spared and trained… he'd let himself get hit, just to feel someone else's touch.
And so Jason and Tim had locked eyes and silently sworn to hug Dick as much as they could, even though neither of them were overly emotional people – Jason especially—but they'd do that for their big brother. Their big brother, who always seemed to be helping and taking care of them, so for this one thing they would take care of him.
And over time, Tim learned to love hugs form Dick. He'd never been good with lots of physical contact, but Dick always managed to make him feel safe, to give the presence of comfort and love just by wrapping an arm around him.
God he missed his big brother.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I really missed you hugs." Tim said aloud, and he felt Dick chuckle weakly under his breath, seeming to know what he meant by that. "You get hugs on that new team of yours, right?" Tim demanded, slightly worried for his big brother's safety if he wasn't letting his emotions out regularly.
He felt Dick lean away and glanced up into his eyes. "How'd you know I was on a team?" He asked.
Tim rolled his eyes. "Please. I suggest you join a team, you suggest you might go find Beast Boy since he quit the Doom Patrol, and the next month Beast Boy is on a brand new team in Jump City? I'm not stupid." He scoffed. "And since you're not BB, an alien girl, or a giant half-robot black dude, I think it's safe to assume you took the mantle of Nightwing. Which, again with the bird themes! I mean, really?! You didn't get enough of the 'little bird' crap when you were here? I've only been at this for a year and its old." Tim complained, and Dick let out a deep laugh, running a hand through the smaller boy's hair.
"I underestimated you, Timmy. No one else knows, right?"
Tim shook his head. "No, Dad probably would if he had the same info I did, and I swear Alfred is at least suspicious, but he hasn't said a thing."
Dick sighed. "Tim, you have to understand, Alfred knows everything. I don't even bother trying to hid things from him."
Tim managed a smile at that. "Oh, trust me, I know." They both laughed a bit at that before falling into a stressed silence.
"So… I'm Nightwing, you're Robin, who's Jason?" Dick finally asked quietly.
Tim hesitated, taking a deep breath. "He calls himself Red Hood, for pretty much the reason you'd expect. He… he likes guns." He managed tersely.
"Jason's always liked guns, Tim." Dick reminded him in a whisper.
"I know." Tim sai through clenched teeth. "I just…. I guess I assumed Dad's training had… I don't know, had some effect on him. He… he doesn't care anymore Dick. He slaughters people… gruesomely, and just…. It's just…."
"Only criminals though, right?" Dick clarified.
Tim gave him an incredulous look. "It hardly matters, Dick. People commit crimes, they don't deserve to be decapitated for it!" Dick looked away, off at the distant lights of downtown Gotham twinkling in the dark landscape. "D-don't tell me y-you agree…."
Dick whipped his head around in alarm. "No Timmy! No, not at all. Bruce instilled that in me from right off, and no, I would never condone that behavior, but…" He glanced at the city again. "…he's still our brother Tim."
The smaller boy just gaped with wide eyes. "Y-you're…. you're suggesting we what exactly? Invite him for dinner? He tried to kill Bruce, Dick! That's why Dad's down, he got the crap beat out of him by our brother!" Tim cried.
Dick looked deeply troubled by that, but not altogether surprised. "You know, I kinda figured that. Jason comes back and Batman-the-invincible is suddenly out for the count? Who else could do that but another Bat?" He sighed.
Tim balked. "You…? Wait, what? You're just… accepting this?" He demanded.
Dick paused for a moment, but then shook his head slowly, but uncertainly for it to be a comfort. "I… Tim, you know why I ran that night? You know why I did what I did to the Joker, right?" He asked.
Tim nodded.
"Tell me honestly that if I'd handed you a gun and put Joker in front of you that night what you would have done."
Tim blinked in shock, then gulped.
He knew exactly what he would have done, and it terrified him.
Dick seemed to see his answer in his horrified expression. "It took everything I had not to bring a real gun to meet the Joker that night. It's there, that impulse, in both of us, just like it was with Jason. Only now, Jason's lost whatever he had before to keep him from pulling the trigger, and he has more reason than we ever could to hate that bastard. We have the ability to kill in us, but Bruce doesn't, it would destroy him. I… I can see Jason being angry, being angry at Bruce for not killing the Joker when he should have. I understand why Dad can't kill, but I don't think Jason ever did. Killing just... wasn't that bad in Jason's eyes, like it is in ours. So no, I'm not surprised Jason came after Dad, it's just… something he'd do."
He shrugged, gazing back out at the city.
Tim was in disbelief, not being able to believe what his ears were telling him he'd just heard.
That was the exact reason Jason came after Batman. That was exactly why he was on a killing spree in Gotham right now, exactly the reason he refused to see Bruce or Tim or Barbara or Alfred.
He was angry they did nothing to avenge him.
"But he'll listen to you," Tim realized under his breath.
"What was that?" Dick asked, turning back to him.
Tim cleared his throat. "Jace won't listen to any of us, not just probably, but definitely for that exact reason. We didn't do anything to the Joker… but you did."
Dick looked stricken in worry for a moment, before his features smoothed over into that famous calculating look of his. "Tame the beast?" He said thoughtfully.
"Get him out of Gotham before Batman wakes up and takes it up a notch." Tim agreed.
Dick looked curiously over at him. "You wouldn't mind Jason being Red Hood in some other city?" He asked.
Tim was taken up short, and thought it over for a moment.
He really did care that people were dying… he honestly did NOT need the images seared into his brain from the footage tapes, and it terrified him, the things he'd seen his big brother do. Hell, he'd seen the state Bruce was in, he was terrified just on principle.
But Dick was right, he was still their brother.
And he missed Dick with all his heart, and he didn't miss Jason any less. Even more maybe because until two days ago, there was no chance whatsoever of ever seeing Jason again while he could keep tabs on Jump City through the news.
Jason was aggressive, violent, cruel, merciless… but he'd always been like that, just not quite so… obviously. And yet, he'd always managed to give Tim or Dick a warm smile, to offer a hug when one of them needed it, to be loving and warm for his brothers—when no one else was around.
Tim had to have faith that Jason, his Jason, was still in there.
Of course, it wouldn't ever surface so long as Bruce or a criminal were anywhere near him.
Tim struggled, trying to reconcile his Jason with the man on the surveillance tapes, but it was turning out to be one heck of a battle.
And yet, he understood what Dick said about Jason being angry. He had a right to be angry, and… and now there were about half as much criminals in Gotham as there's been forty eight hours ago… which, violent and bloody as it may be, was totally a bad thing….
Dick was watching this inner battle play out on the younger boy's face carefully, seeming to learn Tim's thought process as he watched.
"I… I don't like the killing but… but he is my brother. I want my brother back." Tim managed to say, and that was true if anything else. He'd be willing to forget everything if Jason—HIS Jason—could be sitting with the two of them right now, just like they used to.
"Ditto." Dick said gently, with a soft, understanding smile. "I'll see what I can do." He agreed, standing up and pulling Tim to his feet as well. "Though, before I go, I'd still like to know what exactly happened… with everything I guess."
Tim took a deep breath. Now that he had a plan of action, he felt better about all of this, and though it was hard reciting some of the more tragic parts, he managed to get out everything they'd learned and seen: Jason coming back, going crazy, his new mantle, all the dead crooks, Batman's fight with him, the Joker…
"Huh, guess I know where I'm going next." Dick sighed heavily.
Tim tilted his head. "What? Am I missing something?"
Dick gave him a strained smile. "Jace kept the Joker alive to confront the Bats about it, but surprisingly (not) Batman didn't cave and ended up putting the clown back in Arkam. How do you think Red Hood is going to handle his anger now that Batman is out of commission for a few days?"
Tim blinked.
Oh this was so not good.
"Point taken." He said tensely. "Perhaps you should get going then." He agreed.
Dick nodded. "I... might not be headed back this way." He hedged.
It was Tim's turn to sigh heavily. "I know. Be safe. Tell Jason I want to see him when he can, and… you know I love you both."
Dick's blue eyes twinkled happily despite the gloomy mood around them. "Aw, love you too baby bird." He chuckled, pulling Tim into another hug.
Tim held on as tight as he could.
Too soon the broke apart and Dick ran a hand through Tim's hair again. "You take care too, k? And don't feel like you have to wait until the dead walk again to contact me, alright?" He said softly, and Tim let out a teary laugh and nodded.
"By Dick." He muttered.
"Catch ya around little brother."