I had not expected such a strong reaction inside myself. Even his voice, it sent signals through my nerves and my bones. My stomach lurched and I felt my veins pump full of adrenaline. I hadn't seen Jason in months, even then, he had been a threat. He rolled over, groaning.

"What happened?" I looked around, while crouching down to see his injuries. He had a few small cuts around his stomach and thighs. I quickly pulled up his shirt, examining them. They were many, but not deep. They were long and clean, they must have been done by a long knife. Most likely a switchblade or something small and easily concealed. Jason moaned.

His hands had many of the same small cuts on his hands. He was on the defense, caught in something that he couldn't handle. He had been trying to protect himself. Both his hands were cut, so he had either lost his weapons or not engaged them at all, that was not like him.

"Someone," He started, attempting to speak. "Knew who I was."

He had a lost a lot of blood. Not enough to die, but enough to black out. I got up and pulled him some water from the fridge. I poured it to his lips and his eyes fluttered.

"Said they could get to me, to you." He winced as I poured the water on one of my clean shirts, wiping his wounds. I was curious. What was he doing in Bludhaven? Who knew him and me? They knew our secret identities?

"Said they could get to Tim and Damian." He looked up at me. "And Bruce."

"They know Bruce?" I wiped more off more of the wounds, crouching on my knees. "Wait, they knew me? Did they follow you?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "Said they wanted to show us something."

I got up quickly and surveyed the apartment. There seemed to be no other people here. But Jason managed to find me and get in, what would stop someone else?

"How did you find me?" I yelled back to him in the bedroom while shutting the door and putting on the deadbolt.

"Come on Dick." I pulled the curtains and bolted the windows before going back to him and removing my domino, placing it on the stand next to the bed. "I was trained under him too."

Oh right. World's best detective. Jason lay on top of the thin mattress, bleeding out. He looked exhausted and all of his clothing was torn. The former boy-wonder had been through a hard fight.

"Why me?" I asked, kneeling down. I reached under the bed and pulled out the first aid kit. It had seen better days. There were always blood stains on the lid and inside was no better. I never owned my own personal Alfred, so I had to stitch myself up more often then not. I pulled out a needle and thread and began working on the deeper slashes on Jason's stomach.

"I had to-" He winced. "Warn you." Jason and I had never had a very solid relationship, even when he was alive, so this surprised me. When he had revealed to Bruce that he was the Red Hood, Bruce made it seem like Jason had turned into a ruthless killer and was completely insane from whatever brought him back. I had always had different theories. Even as Robin, Jason had been volatile. He was impatient and impulsive. That was one of the reasons that he got killed in the first place. I didn't necessarily believe that coming back made him a killer, but it defiantly added to his anger inside.

"Why do you care?" I asked. He had no ties to me or Bruce anyway. It made no sense for him to come here to warn me. Obviously he needed a place to stay for a while, so maybe he had other motives.

"Because despite what you think, Golden Boy," He tilted his head forward and looked at me. "I am not that horrible of a person."

I made no noise to acknowledge that remark. He had always a screwed up impression of me. It was difficult being the first Robin. Bruce had set a standard that I had not wanted. He made me out to be this perfect sidekick, but it was never all true.

I concentrated in my work, stitching up the cuts. I was good caring for people, which was one of the reasons I was in this line of work anyway. So this mind-numbing task of stitching and cleaning him up put my mind at ease while I thought about how to handle the situation. I dipped the needle in and out, while wiping away any stray blood with cold water.

I was up before Jason even heard anything. I shushed him from the doorway while I grabbed my domino and covered my eyes back with it. The door was kicked down and two big guys stepped in, surveying the scene.

They were obviously not from around here. I had never seen anyone in Bludhaven with such confidence. They were professional killers, I could tell. Assassins always had certain elements of stealth and endurance. Before they saw me I threw two batarangs from my waist pockets, catching one of the men reaching for his gun.

"Son of a-" The man yelped. I ran out and removed the two eskrima sticks from the holster on my right thigh. I knocked down the nearest thug, sending him sprawling into the back door, shattering it. The one from the ground staggered up and pulled the batarang from his hand, sending a spray of blood all over the carpet.

Dropping the sticks, I grabbed him by the collar and rammed him against the wall while he struggled to reach for his gun. I grabbed the batarang and jammed it into his jacket, leaving him dangling from the wall. He pulled out his gun and tried to aim it at me, but I was faster. I slid to the ground and kicked the pistol from his hand, sending it rolling on the floor down the hallway. The man screamed and sent a punch landing square on my hip while I jumped back up. I grunted and knocked him out with a quick punch to the jaw.

I looked back down the hallway to see Jason crawling on the floor with his elbows, army style. He grabbed the gun and raised it up to me.

"What are you doing?" I practically yelled at him, seeing the blood trail. He must have ripped out the stitches while trying to scramble for the gun. It didn't even register that he was aiming it at me until I felt myself being lifted off the ground.

"What the hell?" I gasped out loud, almost afraid that this was all a plot to kill me, after all, Jason was never…predictable.

I felt my airway being cut off by a thick arm. I clawed at the arm and sent a few kicks into his gut until I started seeing black spots cross my vision. He was strong and I felt my feet skim the floor.

"I'm going to kill him." He said, standing up, using the wall for support. I knew there was no way that this would end without either me or the man behind me dying so I simply nodded and stopped struggling and let him get a clear shot.

"As if, kid." The guy had a deep, gruff voice that matched his large stature as he cut off more of my air. I gasped desperately and clawed at his arm with my fingers.

When we used to spar together as kids, we had this move practiced. If an attacker came behind (usually Bruce at the time) we would calm down and give a clear shot to the shoulder or face. We never used guns, only batarangs, so it was never lethal. But there were a few times when Jason and I had ganged up on Bruce and taken him down together this way. Jason would wink (our little secret move) and he would shoot, or throw the batarang, while I used all of my strength to duck down and kick upwards so the attacker would fall forward, still holding me. Usually the batarang would connect with a pad on Bruce's shoulder or chest and we would make fun of him all night until I left. This was just right when I became Nightwing, yet still close to Gotham with Bruce, it was still my home.

Jason winked at me and I thrust upwards with my heel and launched myself down with all of my might. I heard the loud shot and then I felt the man's weight fall on me. I could feel the hot blood droplets hit my cheek while I fell and his warm body landed on me.

He was dead before he hit the ground.