Hello internet!

Sorry, I'm back (hopefully) from the longest most painful case of writers block EVER. You can all thank The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton for that- that book gave me my inspiration spark again. I'm currently working on a fic for that book too, but I don't think I'll post it until it's nearly done. All this "post and then wait a month (or three) to update" thing is utter crap and I hate it when authors do it.

Yes, I'm a hypocrite, which is why it irritates me so much.

Another note: I sort of fiddle around with the timeline, creating more time in the story line that can actually fit into a year and messing with how long Jason's was dead and what he knows… just for kicks, so, ignore any inconsistencies. Just roll with it, kay?

Anyway, enjoy!

Strangely enough—or perhaps not so strangely depending on how you look at it—the roof of Arkam Asylum was utterly unprotected. Even more convenient still was that the top security holding units were located directly below a skylight dead center of said roof. All one had to do was break through the glass, make a landing, and you were standing in the middle of a hexagonal room, lined with six holding cells. Though Arkam was three floors, the walls of these cells were huge slabs of metal that went from twenty feet below ground to the roof, capped with even more reinforced metal for a seemingly impenetrable really tall box.

Of course, all the cells looked into the center room through half-foot thick glass. Escapable as that glass seemed, once in the main room, the escapee would have nowhere to go, seeing as the door was a three foot thick steel hatch in the floor only opened by a serious of eye scanners, key cards, and electronically entered codes.

Great forethought, except for the stupid skylight.

For an ex-Bat with a grappling hook and more than enough practice with a short drop such as this, it was ridiculous to say the least. Insulting even.

Which is why it surprised Dick to see the shadowy silhouette of his long dead brother simply staring through the skylight down into the prison rather than barging in guns blazing (quite literally now a days it seemed) as he would've at any other point since Dick had known him.

Jason was better than good, but Dick was the original, and managed to sneak up on his little brother, despite all his instincts telling him it was a terrible, suicidal idea.

"You know, you could take a picture, it'd last longer." He quipped lightly, and instinctively ducked away as a barrage of bullets rained down on where he'd been a split second before, their explosions ripping apart the previously peaceful night.

He couldn't say he hadn't expected that.

Once it seemed to sink in who had spoken (not to mention who could get out of the way of a bullet and back into the shadows so fast) the firing stopped, but the guns didn't lower. Dick could only roll his eyes to himself, thinking this is exactly where the phrase "shoot first, ask questions later" came from.

"Dick?" The masked figure said uncertainly, and the original Boy Wonder's heart froze in his chest, before melting into tears he had to fight to keep back.

That was Jason's voice. That was the same voice saying the exact same thing it did when a young boy woke up from the middle of a nightmare to see his big brother standing over him in worry. That was the same voice of the kid he and Bruce had found on the streets so long ago, not the angry, pained one Dick had half expected.

"Talk about shooting first, Jay." Dick choked out softly, barely managing to get over his moment of nostalgia, the bantering front coming back up naturally.

"Tends to be my catch-phrase recently." Jason's voice said, also sounding slightly strained through the natural banter that was the Bat kids' default. Dick swallowed his emotions, coming through the shadows just enough to get a better look, but not far enough that Jason could see him. The younger boy was looking forward, pointing the guns at the place Dick had once stood, but his older brother had moved to be slightly to his left, though ready to dive out of the way if need be. The roof worked in his favor that it made his voice echo, so that if he kept it soft enough, Jason would not be able to pinpoint him by his voice.

"So I've heard." Dick allowed. "Timmy's right terrified you know. He was on surveillance tape duty."

Dick noticed Jason's hands grip the guns just a little tighter.

"What, doesn't like the new me?" He spat acidly, aggression leaking out of every syllable and evident in the way he moved, they way he held himself, in every breath he took.

But all Dick could see was his little brother in pain, and it broke his heart in pity and worry.

"No, he just wants his brother back." Dick said as calmly and evenly as he could, which, coming from him, was really quite calmly.

Jason seemed to be taken off guard by that statement, his posture momentarily shifting into relaxed shock, his guns dropping an inch. Dick fought off the urge to tisk and correct him that he should never let his guard down, no matter who he's fighting.

But he wasn't a Bat any longer, just like Dick wasn't.

Oh, who was he kidding, of course they both were, but Jason would not react kindly to the brothering at that moment, especially not with the Batman reminder.

"He's afraid of me." Jason growled, gripping his guns tighter still.

"Yes, but not so much that he'd think you'd hurt him." Dick said evenly, letting the challenge rest in the air. After all, if he ever would hurt Tim, this conversation would take another route very quickly.

"'Course not." Jason said gruffly, dismissing that in sharp irritation. Dick let out the tension he hadn't known he was holding. This was a good sign— it proved that Jason wasn't totally lost to them yet. "The same does not apply to that bastard you call a dad." He growled menacingly.

Dick rolled his eyes even though Jason couldn't seem him.

"So I've heard." He sighed.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, he had it coming." Jason snapped, and Dick fought off the smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Despite everything, they still knew each other that well.

"Not saying he didn't." Dick said softly, so quietly he wondered if Jason could hear him, but assumed he could when his grip on his weapons relaxed in surprise again.

There was a long silence in which neither of them moved.

"You're not here to stop me." Jason realized in shock, standing up straighter and letting his guns drop even farther.

Dick steeled himself. "No." He admitted tensely.

Jason was quiet.

He suddenly straightened all the way up and holstered the guns again. Dick took that moment to toss his own gun out from the shadows. Jason flinched in defense automatically, but caught the gun on instinct. Despite the Red Helmet over his face, Dick could clearly picture the younger boy's eyes widening in comical shock at the weapon in his hand based on the way he reeled from it in surprise.

Dick walked casually out of the shadows like he hadn't just been shot at and was going to talk face-to-face with the brother that'd been dead for over a year and who'd done the shooting.

"So. What's new with you?" He asked conversationally, bobbing up and down on his heels playfully. Despite being dead, Jason was somehow significantly taller now- which he'd always been, but it seemed more pronounced now, and was still irritating.

Jason just looked up and down between his brother and the gun in his hand.

"This is modified." He said, pointing at the weapon.

Dick pursed his lips. "Yes." He agreed, glancing off to the side of the roof. Really, it was no wonder this place had breakouts so often, they didn't even put so much as a camera or something up here. Idiots.

Jason stared at him. Now that they were closer, Dick could see his green eyes staring suspiciously out at him. They wouldn't be Jason's eyes if they didn't look hostile or wary though, so even that aggressive emotion was familiar and welcome.

"You've used this." Jason clarified cautiously.

"Yes." Dick confirmed. "But only ever on one person." He added much softer.

Jason glanced over his shoulder at the skylight, seeming to understand that immediately. "This…"

"Will not kill him if you aim right." Dick said delicately, ignoring the way Jason's head snapped around to him at that. "But if you know anything about me, you know it will do its job well." He allowed, and the tension in Jason's shoulders relaxed just a little.

Jason went back to staring at the gun in what Dick would assume was amazement and that ever-present wariness.

"I won't stop you." Dick shrugged. "But I thought there might be another way … just another option at least." He said as gently as he could, trying to act like he didn't care though they both knew he did. The sheer fact he wasn't going to say it out loud should've been a big enough clue to Jason that Dick really meant it.

Jason chuckled humorlessly under his breath. "You always did love to play peacemaker." He sighed, his aggression momentarily forgotten as he traced his thumb over the black gun-metal. He looked back up at him. "And he knows you used this?" He asked, and Dick needed no clarification to who "he" was.

For the first time, Dick realized Jason might not know the whole story. He might've been a Bat, but he was still dead for quite some time and was probably out of the loop. Besides, Jason was always sort of an 'act first' kind of guy and probably didn't realize there was even research to do or things he might've missed. Not that he'd bother even if he did, too blinded by his anger that Bruce hadn't killed the Joker in vengeance.

"Yes." Dick answered shortly.

Jason picked up on the tension. "And he was ok with it?" he asked incredulously.

"Don't know. We haven't talked since." Dick tried to say it calmly, but it came out too tense, too stressed.

Jason was again shocked. "What?" He blanched.

"Yeah, so don't try and call me Golden Boy again or I might have to actually take offense this time." Dick said in a mock growl, trying uselessly to keep his playful joking manner up, but both of them heard the sad note underneath it.

"Dickie, what the hell?" He half-howled. "You used a gun, and d- uh, Bruce just… and then… argh, what the hell!?"

Dick sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jay, we need to talk. We really do."

Jason tensed up. "I'm not leaving." He snapped automatically.

"Fine, whatever." Dick waved him off. "Just… do what you need to and find me later. I can't stay in this city any longer than you can." Jason seemed alarmed by that news, and gripped the gun tighter.

"Fine." He snapped, spinning on his heel and facing away as he often did to avoid conflict with his brothers. Dick fought the urge to face-palm and scold him for turning his back to an opponent… even if he was secretly glad his little brother didn't naturally consider him an enemy just yet.

Dick wanted to say so much more.

He wanted to beg him not to kill the Joker for Batman's and Gotham's sake, he wanted to hug him for simply being alive—again—he wanted to slap him upside the head for upsetting Tim, he wanted to understand exactly what was making him act so violently and hatefully, he wanted to plead with him to come home to see Tim and work it all out…

But he knew that was hopeless.

Stupid determination and blind stubbornness was a trait Jason picked up from the Bats just like he and Tim had.

And Jason needed this. Whatever 'this' was, he needed to sort it out before he confronted his brother, before he would listen to the whole story. And he needed to know he had an ally that wouldn't get in his way— that was on his side no matter what—to ever be able to see sense again, and he needed proof Dick was that ally.

And if Dick kept talking, if he said anything else than his already brief insinuation that he didn't want the Joker dead, he would destroy that chance.

So, even though Dick felt like he could've written a book on all he wanted to say right then in that moment, he did nothing.

He turned and slipped into the shadows and was three blocks away before Jason even moved again, praying to whatever deity was listening that his little brother wouldn't be too far gone to give his words a moment's thought.