The next morning dawned with gloomy, grey hues and a half-hearted drizzle of rain, which Jason just knew was a pitiful attempt at pathetic fallacy. He drew his bleary-eyed gaze from the window and rolled over slowly, stretching until his ears popped, and then relaxed his muscles until he lay motionless and limp; the blankets a tangled snarl at the end of his bed, his feet trapped in their unrelenting hold.

He sighed deeply and sat up against the wooden headboard, rubbing his eyes. Outside, he could hear the distant, underlying rumble of traffic that never ceased to stop and the sound of gravity being beat into submission by various helicopters. Even as far out as they were in the manor, the city still managed to brush them with its fingertips.

The wind that slithered silently through the gaps in the window convinced him to finally get up - the frigidness of the breeze was stinging his skin and the hairs on his arms had begun to raise defensively. He hastily rose from his bed, stumbling into the shower. After he had changed into his clothes, his buttery-soft leather jacket a reassuring weight across his shoulders, he made his way downstairs.

"He lives," Damian mumbled around his toast – burnt to a crisp, just like he liked it - as Jason entered the kitchen, not sparing him a glance as he fiddled with the tablet in his grasp. Jason grumbled in his direction, flipping the baby-bird the bird, and made a bee-line for the coffee pot, his eyes flicking over the boy's face and cataloguing the discoloured skin beneath his right eye where a nasty looking bruise was beginning to blossom and flourish, likely from patrol.

Jason poured his coffee into the 'mama needs coffee' mug that Dick had bought him two months ago, when out on patrol, and turned around, hopping up onto the counter effortlessly. Dick smirked crookedly from where he sat beside Damian at the island and breathed, "For once.."

Jason eyed his older brother as he flipped through the morning's paper. He sat at the kitchen island in his pyjamas, different from the ones Jason remembered he had on, and his skin seemed pale, but healthier-looking compared to last night. To an untrained eye, he looked just like he did any other morning, but Jason was raised to spot the little signs, noticing that, even though Dick's hands were seemed steady, the newspaper he held would quiver at regular intervals from slight tremors that ran through him. He also noticed how Damian was sitting closer to Dick than he normally would, their elbows brushing deliberately.

Jason raised his mug to his lips to hide his knowing grin and spoke around the rim, sniping back, "Fuck up, assholes"

"Language, Master Jason. Must I remind you?" Alfred reprimanded long-sufferingly from where he had stepped into the kitchen from outside, shaking his gloves as he took them off. Damian snorted and Dick hid his suddenly blinding grin behind his paper.

Jason felt a sense of injustice creeping on him, but it was pushed down by the warmth that had spread through him, knowing that his death wasn't a dirty secret that was to be shoved to the back of the closet. Joking about it probably wasn't the way to deal with it, he's sure Black Canary would remind him, but Bruce was a grown man that dressed up as a small, flying creature to fight crime as a vigilante under the cover of darkness after the tragic murder of his beloved parents.

To each his own, Jason figured. He lowered the mug after taking a long pull of the bitter, black coffee. "Sorry, Alfred"

Alfred hummed in response, beginning to tidy up the kitchen. A comfortable silence then settled; disturbed only by Damian chewing, Jason sipping, Dick mumbling and Alfred wiping. Throughout the morning, more often than not, Jason noticed Damian watching Dick out of the corner of his eye, something that Dick was not oblivious to, but allowed.

No one mentioned last night. Jason wished he had.

/

Tim returned to the manor that afternoon from a successful mission, bouncing off the walls from excess adrenaline. Damian, as young and impressionable as he was, was soon swept up in the sudden surge of energy in the house and soon the two younger boys were insatiable. In a bid to stay sane and keep the house intact, Bruce decided to send them on a mission while he caught up on paperwork from Wayne Enterprises. Tim and Damian were beside themselves, running around the manor in a rare show of brotherly companionship.

Jason tried to convince himself that that was the reason why he didn't notice Dick pale suddenly when he was informed of the boyband's reunion – the name he gave to any mission that required Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin and Robin to work together. But the thing is, Jason did notice it, and he also noticed that Dick seemed withdrawn after hearing of their assigned mission.

This morning, Jason had to remind himself occasionally of Dick's nighttime disturbance to remember that something was wrong. Dick acted as if nothing had ever happened; wrestling with Damian in the common room while Jason had read a book quietly, interrupted by the young boy's reluctant, smothered giggles as Dick had found a weak spot in his defences and had targeted it mercilessly with wandering fingers.

But as they had made their way down to the cave to suit up, he had seemed lost in his own head, hardly speaking unless spoken to. Jason had brushed it off with some excuse or another. He shouldn't have.

/

"Getting a little rusty there, Todd. Nearly let that last dude walk straight out of there-"

"Shut up, birdbrain. I got him, didn't I?" Jason grunted, feeling a grin tug at his unwilling lips. And he had got the guy, with a bullet to the knee, no less. "You got no room to criticise anyway, with that sloppy backflip landing.."

"Hey," Damian snapped, "that was totally planned, alright? The- The guy knew I was gonna get straight up after, so I had to be unpredictable-"

"Oh," Jason praised mockingly, sounding impressed, "That's a big word, Dami, since when have you read the dictionary? After Agent A beat you at Scrabble for the second time, or the forty-second time?"

Damian started, his voice rising slightly as he incredulously said, ignoring Jason's dig, "Listen, I'm positive he bloody wrote the dictionary. That man is truly something else when it comes to words, Jason-"

Tim interrupted them. "Guys, no names over comms, you both know that-"

"Oh, since when have you kept your bo staff up your ass, Red?"

Jason snorted so loud he heard it echo in his own helmet. Damian threw him a grin over his shoulder as he swung to the next building, letting him know that he knew his joke was appreciated. Tim slowed down slightly, scandalized, before sprinting forward across the rooftop they had landed on to catch up with Damian, who was already at the other edge, hastily throwing his grapple forward in an attempt to get away, an impudent sneer spreading across his face.

"Why you-"

"Stop," Dick barked suddenly.

Jason, Tim and Damian stopped. They landed with silent feet on the next rooftop over. Jason knew that the cold and emotionless tone stopped them more than the word itself, and he knew that, if anything, Dick was secretly enjoying the brotherly banter being thrown back and forth, even if he wasn't joining in, so it wasn't that. He restrained himself from glancing confusedly at the younger boys at his side.

They had left the cave a few hours ago, making their way into Gotham City. Dick had reassured them that the mission had no time restrictions, so they had stopped a few muggings along the way; occasionally splitting off but eventually rendezvousing every half hour or so to check in. As the night had worn on, Dick had finally called to start the assignment.

He had thus-far been silent over comms, which was highly unusual. He spoke only to warn one of them of an incoming hit or to inform them of a meeting point, while Damian took the comms as an opportunity to inflate his own ego, providing a running commentary on each of his manoeuvres. Tim took this as a direct challenge, and soon the young boys were trying to outdo each other good-naturedly, Jason jabbing a sarcastic comment or two occasionally to take them down a peg.

Jason watched as Dick sank to his hunches at the edge of the building they were on, looking around himself. Damian stepped forward after a moment and crouched beside Dick, Jason and Tim following his lead a second later.

Tim hesitated when no explanation was given, glancing at Dick out of the corner of his eye. "You okay, dude?"

"Hood, you're leading this one" Dick said abruptly, hardly letting the words fall from Tim's lips before he spoke.

"What?"

"But Father said-"

"I know, Robin," Dick placated, his tone softening as he spared a glance downwards to his right where Damian was staring up at him in bewilderment. It was unlike the golden boy to go against the Bats orders, and Bruce had explicitly told them that Dick was running point on this mission. He returned his gaze forward once more.

Jason's eyes narrowed. He felt a sense of foreboding and put his hand hesitantly on his older brother's shoulder. "What's wrong, 'wing?"

"It's nothing," Dick smiled tightly after a moment, shrugging the hand from his shoulder.

Jason raised his eyebrows. Dick was the most sensitive and tactile person he knew, something which pained him greatly when he was greeted with a hug every time he stopped in Blüdhaven or found himself in the manor. He shared a glance with the Robins, seeing his own confusion reflected on their face.

Aware of being the subject of all of his brother's gazes, Dick stared with unfocused eyes at the street below, a slight breeze picking up his dark hair. None of them missed how Dick pulled his suddenly trembling hands into fists at his side.

Seeing this, Jason started. "Nightwing, come on-"

The man in question cut him off with a mirthless chuckle, shaking his head, but Jason had a sinking feeling that the older man hadn't even heard him in the first place. The sinking feeling in his gut intensified and his eyes narrowed behind his red helmet, the hairs on the back of his neck raising despite the humid night air.

Dick stood up quickly and paused before he breathed, "Just felt someone walk over my grave…"

Before Jason, Tim or Damian could even think of a dignified response to him, Dick leapt off the roof and freefell, before shooting his grapple and swinging to the opposite building. An uncomfortable silence settled in his wake.

"Keep a visual on Grayson at all times," Jason snapped all of a sudden, taking control and shooting to his feet. Jason knew that Bruce would have hung them up to dry for using names in the field, but even Tim, who was always a stickler for the rules, said nothing this time and only nodded solemnly. He looked down at the Robins who stared back at him with matching stony expressions. His icy stare softened from behind the red helmet as he took in their downturned mouths and Damian's furrowed brows. Jason clenched his jaw tight and, gentler than before, ordered, "Don't let him out of your sight"

/

The mission was simple. Drug cartel – take the guys out, phone the GCPD, report the drugs and knocked-out bad guys, get home and into bed. Jason had done harder things in his sleep.

Even though Dick had released his leadership responsibilities to a reluctant Jason, he stopped them two blocks from the piers and laid out each of their roles. "Red Hood, you control this mission beyond this rooftop. For now, you'll hit them from their right side; sneak around and call it whenever we're all in position. Clear?"

"Crystal"

"Red Robin, you come from behind. When we've revealed ourselves, you're to stay close to Red Hood-"

"Nightwing-"

"It's final. Robin, you'll stay on this rooftop at all times, call out warnings and advice through comms."

Jason's own eyes widened and he watched as Damian jerked, his breath hitching. Tim quietly gasped, his gaze flicking from his suddenly trembling younger brother to his rigid oldest brother and back. Damian spun slowly from where he had been overlooking the street to face his brother, his face set in a disbelieving and angry scowl. "What?"

Dick sighed. "Robin-"

"That's so not fair, I can-"

"I don't care, you'll-"

"But you, Red Hood and Red Robin get to-"

"Damian, I swear to god, I will send you home"

Time seemed to freeze. Jason shifted in front of Damian slightly; whether he was protecting Damian Wayne from the suddenly unrecognisable, icy Dick Grayson, or protecting Dick Grayson from a furious, flying Damian Wayne, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that this could get ugly, fast.

He shook his head minutely at Tim, warning him to stay out of it. Keeping his eyes on an unstable-looking Dick, Jason reached behind him to grab whatever he could of a shaking Damian, tightening his grip to bruise-hard levels when the boy tried to angrily snake out of his grasp.

"Alright, Dickhead," Jason started, raising a placating hand in front of him as Dick's eyes snapped to his, "Let's be real – you're being a dickhead. Wanna tell me what this is about, hm?"

Dick shifted on his feet. Jason reached up slowly, keeping his hand open and reassuring, growing more concerned and feeling vaguely hurt as Dick actually tracked his hand - as if he would whip out a weapon. Instead, he reached up to his helmet and pulled the clasp at the back, tugging it off of his head slowly and chucking it uncaringly to the side, letting it clatter to the ground with a sharp, metallic sound.

Jason winced internally, hoping this would work. Even with the domino mask still in its place, perhaps Dick would feel more comfortable talking if he were able to see his face and his tells, which Dick was still able to read like an open book, even after Jason trained himself to keep his face impassive. It worked with everyone, even Bruce, but Dick always caught him out.

Sure enough, Dick threw his hands up in exasperation and exploded, "You wouldn't understand!"

Jason was just glad to see him move. For an acrobat to be still for so long was not a good sign. He sighed, "'I wouldn't understand'? Dick, I came back from the dead after taking a dip in the Lazarus Pit and hunted after the Bat in an anger-fuelled attempt to get back at the world for forgetting about me!"

Dick flinched violently. Tim looked down to avoid his gaze and even Damian eased up on pushing against his restraining hand. Okay, maybe not so comfortable with his death as he had thought. Jason cleared his throat and tried again.

"Dickie, come on," he said softly, although he would deny it later if anyone said he did. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. "Just tell us"

"It's the dream, isn't it?" Tim burst suddenly, and Jason was half-worried that he had misread Bruce's file on his eldest son because Dick looked like he had a tic, once again flinching uncontrollably. Jason turned his eyes to Tim accusingly.

"Damian told me," the boy answered the question on his lips. Jason nodded. By the way Dick had recoiled, he had hit the nail on the head. Detective, indeed, Jason thought approvingly.

"He's right.."

Damian snorted loudly and Jason let him go, letting him step around him. He threw up his hands. "This is over a fucking dream? Grayson, wise up, it-"

"-was so real, Dami," Dick emphasized, his voice cracking. Jason straightened.

It was silent for a while. Tim stepped towards Dick and asked quietly, "N, what's this about?"

"You- you were pushed off the pier, Damian, you fell," Dick said, his voice soft and pleading. He reached up and flicked up the white lenses in his mask and they started when they saw his watering eyes, "Like mom, like dad.."

"And you," Dick said, spinning around suddenly and pointing at Tim, speaking over Tim's little squeak of "Me?", "You wouldn't answer your comms… they took you. We couldn't find you…. you disappeared…"

Jason couldn't exactly blame him; if someone thought it was so okay to lay a hand on the two younger boys then Jason shouldn't be held responsible for his actions in response. He sighed as Dick spun towards him. What had happened to him?

"You were shot, Jason.."

Okay, now he was being an idiot.

Tim stole the words right out of his mouth. "Don't be an idiot, Nightwing. What, you think we can't look after ourselves?"

"No, I meant-"

"We're going and that's final," Damian snapped. Jason chuckled and wondered how Dick was going to dig himself out of that one, because he for sure wasn't helping him. "But we're talking about this when we get home"

Across from him, Dick nodded dejectedly; looking at his feet, shoulders hunched protectively.

Situation averted, Jason and Tim turned to leave. Damian moved towards Dick, who was looking more and more like a kicked puppy with each step he took. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason watched Damian as he reached out and punched half-heartedly at Dick's side, causing him to let out a sharp breath as his air was pushed out. Jason and Tim tried not to listen through the comms, but they couldn't help but hear a small, "D, I'm sorry"

"Shut up, Grayson… we're good"

Before he jumped off the roof, Jason thought he saw Damian reach up and pull Dick into a rough embrace, Dick grasping on tightly, but he couldn't swear it in a court of law if someone asked him to.

/

"Tuck your dang leg in, Drake," Jason grunted from where he sat on a fire escape, catching his breath as he watched the two Robins clean up the remaining few. Bruce really was going to have a coronary when he reviewed the recordings of this particular operation. They had used each other's names a ridiculous amount of times. But, to be honest, Jason had lost that 'yes, sir, no, sir' mentality somewhere between when the Joker had beat his bones to mush and when he had blown him up for the kicks. Bruce could suck his big toe for all he cared.

"Getting tired there, old man?" Damian inquired as he ran up a wall and back flipped to land behind the guy chasing him, catching him by surprise, and landing a, frankly, impressive backhand to the man's face when he turned; followed by a knee to face as he stumbled forward.

"Shut your mouth," Jason grumbled, watching from his perch as Red Robin swept his staff beneath some guy's feet, causing him to fall on his ass. He finished him with a blow to a head, one Jason knew from experience that he would feel in the morning.

Jason jumped down, the scene clear. People groaned and moaned from various broken bones as Tim and Damian made their rounds, trying their legs and hands together.

"Where's Nightwing?" he said after a moment, looking around.

"Saw him go down towards the pier," Tim answered. He raised his hands in defence as both Jason and Damian turn to glare at him. "What? I had my own guys to deal with, I can't babysit Nightwing too…"

Jason rolled his eyes and gestured to the younger boys to follow him, heading for the pier to collect their missing bird. "Red, call Gordon and tell him about these guys. Make sure-"

Jason cuts himself off as they turn the corner. He's not sure how the hell this guy got the drop on the acrobat, but a man is waving Dick's escrima sticks in the air, taunting, as their owner writhes on the ground.

Jason's suddenly running, hearing Tim's muttered curse and Damian's animalistic growl as they run behind him. The guy hasn't seen them yet. Dick yelped, his voice echoing in their comms, as the guy hit him with the escrima and even Jason, from his distance away, can hear the faint click as the electricity cackles to life. Dick seized and jerked involuntarily, a strained scream crawling passed his clenched teeth as the electricity surged through his aching muscles.

The man finally sees them pounding towards him when Jason fires a shot in the air. In shock and dawning horror, the guy jerked the escrima away from a twitching Dick - still shaking from the aftershocks of his own weapon.

Panicking, the guy pulled back and pulled out a gun.

Jason cursed. He never remembered the pier being this bloody long. With renewed motivation and a lighter build, Damian passed Jason and Tim with a primitive cry, jumping in the air as he reached the man, letting his foot slam into the side of his face.

Jason still heard the bullet echo in his sleep years later.