Author's Note: No comments needed on this one, only that I hope it lives up to everyone's expectations. Please enjoy and review!
There were a few second of quiet in which Dick could pretend that what just happened didn't or that Jason had known already or that he miraculously would... what, accept it? No, this wasn't just the calm before the storm. The perfect silence that fell across the kitchen was a prelude to a hurricane, and he used the last few precious seconds to get the two youngest out of the path of the eye. He quietly but firmly order Tim to take Damian up to the roof and remain there until he came and got them. Simply sending them to the other room wouldn't help. Not for this.
At first Jason simply stared at the now-blank television screen as if he didn't understand what he'd just seen. Dick suspected he didn't. He took a careful step towards his brother.
"He..." Jason attempted to speak but his voice broke. He swallowed and tried again, the space between his brows creased. "He's... he's still alive..."
"Incarcerated in Arkham," Dick tried, though he knew it meant next to nothing.
"But... how is he still alive?" The anger hadn't come yet. Jason just looked... confused.
He reached out to him, but his brother jerked away with such force that when Dick stumbled back he knocked over one of the cups. It shattered on the tiled floor, contents spilling everywhere, and the sound of it must have jarred Jason out of his daze. When he moved, Dick thought he might take a swing at him, but his balled up fist actually connected with the coffee pot still sitting on the counter. Thankfully it was almost empty, but the jagged shattered glass instantly cut gashes into his brother's hand.
Dick couldn't have that. Bracing himself for whatever happened, he grasped Jason's shoulder and forced him to turn around until they were face to face. The look in his brother's eyes terrified him. There was more than a little touch of madness to it. Jason struggled and he was far stronger than Dick remembered, but he'd braced himself for it and held firmly. He wasn't about to let his brother hurt himself again.
"Jay." He used as calm of a tone as possible, the one he'd used when the young man had seen Tim for the first time less than six hours ago. Telling him to calm down would no doubt have the opposite reaction, so Dick simply said, "Breathe."
For a moment Jason stopped struggling and looked at him like he was insane. "'Breathe'? You're using calming techniques on me? I don't want to be calm! I want to know why that piece of filth is still alive! How is that even possible!"
Dick swallowed. What was he supposed to say? 'They don't execute the legally insane'? Jason knew that. That's not what he was asking. He couldn't think of a single thing that would make this better for his brother, but he had to do something. In the struggle and the first outburst of violence, both of Jason's wounds, still fresh, opened up again. Dick could see blood seeping through the bandages onto the shirt he'd borrowed. He had to take control of this immediately.
"Let's call Bruce," he offered suddenly. "Right now. Let's call him. You don't even have to say anything. Just... just hear his voice."
Last night – hell, even a few minutes ago – it might have made all the difference, but now it only served to fuel Jason's anger. With a roar that didn't even sound human, he swiped a hand across the counter. Cups and dishes and the drying rack of utensils went clareting and smashing to the floor. Dick wondered if it was terrible that his first thought was about how many knives were in that pile. But he also didn't fail to notice that Jason was striking out at anything within reach but him. That was promising. It showed at least some level of control remained.
"Come on." He made an attempt to guide him to the living room where there was more space and less sharp objects. Jason flinched and shrugged him off but stalked over on his own accord. For a moment Dick thought it might be okay, that he might actually let him call Bruce and let this all end well. But as soon as he reached for the phone, Jason snapped.
"Don't touch that! Why should I talk to him, huh? Why should he even care that I'm back!"
On Bruce's behalf, Dick felt hurt. "Jay, he's like..." No, not 'like'. "He's your dad. He loves you, misses you. He'll be... overjoyed to see you."
"Like hell!" The next crack was the coffee table top as Jason's kick sent it skidding towards the brick wall. "All I've done since I got here is interrupt everyone's lives! Why should it be any different with him?"
"It's not because you're not interrupting anything. Yes, I was shocked, but, Jay, I'm so so very glad to have you back." He didn't look like he believed a word of it. Dick tried again. "Or let's just go to Gotham right now, so you can see for yourself."
Jason's eyes shifted to the door, and suddenly Dick knew exactly what he was thinking. He got between it and his brother just as Jason began to make large pointed strides towards the exit. Dick held up both hands, palms splayed open. Jason just got angrier.
"I'm not going to Gotham!"
"Well, you're not just going for air."
He had no illusions about the fact that if he let him walk out that door, something terrible was going to happen. Jason was angry and injured and not even close to thinking straight. He wouldn't just be returning in a few hours after he cooled off. This was not something that could be solved by getting some air. It wouldn't work this time. It hadn't even worked last time either. Jason hadn't forgiven them for Tim, just suppressed the anger.
He glared and tried to step around him, but Dick moved, blocking his way again. His brother exploded. "Fucking move, Grayson! Before I break in that pretty face of yours!"
"Jay, please!" He actually had his hands clasped together in a pleading gesture. "Please, I am begging you, don't do this. Don't run off. Don't let it... this can't be be like last time. I... we... we can't lose you again."
Jason actually snarled, a more beastly than human sound. Dick had seen the look before on wild animals in the circus, those that had been caged but never tamed. They took the first opportunity to escape and more often then not ended up hurting someone around as well as themselves. God, but he didn't want that for his brother.
"What about Damian?" He tried to reason. "You were there for him after he lost his mother. What would he do without you?"
"He has a father," Jason shot back. "Maybe he'll care more about flesh and blood than..."
"You know that's not true," Dick cut him off more harshly than he'd intended. "He loves all of us. We've fought more times than I can count, but I've never doubted that. Not once."
"No. No, you're right." Something went ice cold in Jason's voice, so much so that Dick almost wished for the red hot fury to return. "If it was you the Joker had taken from this world, he would not have stopped until that piece of shit was in the ground."
"He wouldn't. I wouldn't want him to." Dick hoped to God the words came out as firm as he meant for them. In truth he had no idea how he'd feel if their places were reversed. He could only hope he'd be able to honor the ideals his mentor, the man who raised him, represented. He took a careful step forward. "Jay, you don't really want him to have walked down that road. If he had, you would've come home and not recognized your father."
"Why do people always say bull shit like that!"
"It's the truth! He would have killed him and then what? It wouldn't have brought you back. It wouldn't have taken away his pain. Nothing could then, and only you can now. No one just... forgets about or replaces their child."
"He sure as hell did!"
"He took on a new partner," Dick said as calmly as possible. "He didn't forget you. He grieved... grieves for you every single day." Even if he doesn't admit it to anyone.
"Yeah, as his great failure," the youth spat. "I bet he's got some stupid plaque that reads, 'Jason Todd: Good Little Soldier.'" When Dick could do no more than give him a helpless look, he threw back his head and barked with bitter laughter. "Oh, God! There really is, isn't there? That's all any of us are to him; Not sons, but soldiers. Perfectly expendable and replaceable."
"You're wrong," the acrobat's voice went soft and quiet. He couldn't fight with him anymore, didn't know how. "Go to him and you'll see. Right now all I can say is that you're my brother and I love you, no matter what you believe. So dose Bruce. You have no idea what loosing you did to him. There... there aren't words to describe it. He buried a piece of himself with you."
Jason stood perfectly still for a moment, eyes downcast. Dick wished he would look at him. The anger he could take, but he had no idea how to read this. He just knew not to expect anything good from it. Jason set his jaw, fists balled up at his sides. When he finally spoke again, his voice was bitter cold.
"He loves me so much he could bury me, but not my killer. He could soil his hands putting dirt on my grave, but he couldn't put him in the ground."
Despite the words, he seemed quiet enough that Dick dared take another step forward to wrap his arms around his brother. Jason didn't return the gesture, but he didn't really expect him to. He just stood motionless, but he let Dick hug him which, as far as the elder man was concerned, was progress. Still, his brother felt cold. So very cold. Dick's heart broke for him, but he knew there was nothing else he could do. He could only hope that once they got to Gotham, Bruce would be able to get through to him.
He pulled back a little but still held his shoulders. Dick looked him directly in the eyes, even if Jason still refused to look at him. For now it was as good as it was going to get.
"Jay," he said gently. "I'm going to go get Tim and Damian now. Then I'll take a look at that dressing, get you some clean bandages, and then we're going to go home. All of us. Alright? Can you stay here for just a moment? Just one minute, I promise."
He had no choice but to take the silence as confirmation. The door was halfway open when Dick paused, hand on the knob, and turned to look at his brother over his shoulder. Jason still hadn't moved so he ended up speaking to his back.
"It'll be okay," he said quietly. "He won't beat us now that we're all together. We're not going to let him win."
It took five seconds to make it to the roof taking two steps at a time, but a full minute to convince them it was okay to come back to the apartment. Damian demanded to know what was going on, and in the end Dick had simply picked up the boy and carried him inside. It was another fifteen seconds before he arrived at his door again. His wide open door that he could have sworn he closed.
Jason was nowhere in sight.
Dick sighed, too tired and unfortunately unsurprised to panic. Tim surveyed the damage with a low whistle, and he wondered if the teen finally understood just how different the real Jason was from what he'd imagined the second Robin would be like. He hated to shatter the teen's illusion, but they all had to face reality. Damian pushed at his chest, and he set the youngest down with no little reluctance. The child looked around and turned a questioning gaze up at him.
"Where's Jason?"
He had to wonder if he'd spared a thought for the boy, about what his disappearance would do to the child. It would've been nice, Dick thought dryly, tonot give the kid anymore abandonment issues. He was mad at Jason for his blind anger, even though he knew it was not without cause. He was mad at Tim for showing up when he did, even though he should have listened to him from the beginning. He was even mad at Bruce that he… wasn't psychic and didn't know this would happen? Dick sighed and rubbed his forehead. No, the person he was really mad at was himself.
"Ah, Dick?"
He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of Tim's voice. The teen looked pale and pointed towards the closet, the one that held his Nightwing uniform, Escrima sticks, and other field utilities. Dick stared. How was it possible that it was open?
"That thing has a security key pad lock on it," he protested, more to himself than to Tim.
The teen gave him a look. "Is your password still 'trapeze'?" Dick stared at him. "Is that different than a few years ago?"
Of course! Dick mentally kicked himself. What kid in his right mind figures out his big brother's password and tells him he knows it? He was officially the biggest idiot in the world. But walking over to the wide-open closet, Dick had to frown. What had Jason actually taken? The suit was still there, so were all the grappling hooks, sticks, and… oh, no…
It was an unspoken rule among their family that out of respect to Bruce no one who had trained with him would ever use a fire arm in the field. Except that Dick did own one, though not by choice. The gun was standard issue of the Bludhaven police department, and he only carried it for his day job, never as Nightwing. It was always kept either in on him or locked away.
And now Jason was gone, and so was the fire arm.
It was at that moment that Dick truly realized that, no, he couldn't handle this by himself.