Jason was stunned, too horrified to react when he heard the gunshot. The world was slow and silent for a moment, like Jason had gone deaf, all sound and colour drained as his mind raced with the worst possibilities. Dick wouldn't do this. He couldn't. It had to be a lie. The words he'd said, it couldn't be true… although he'd pretty much hit the mark in regards to Jason.

But when the sound returned to Jason he realized that the silence had only been in his mind. There was screaming…

The bound murderer was holding up the mangled remains of his right hand, screaming in agony through the gag. At the last second Dick had turned the barrel; instead of killing the man he'd taken out the hand he'd used to kill those women. He would never gain use of that hand again. Jason was left gaping behind the helmet, disbelieving. He hadn't seen the movement; he hadn't noticed the change in direction.

He hadn't known that anyone who wasn't a meta could move that fast…

Dick called in the cops, turning to Jason so that they could leave before they showed up, his dark eyes turned back on the murderer with deadly chill. "Your hand was injured in the fight… Right?"

The weeping man nodded, eyes wide and hysterical. Jason doubted he would ever recover enough from this to ever hurt a woman like that again, even if his hand was salvagable. He should feel good about that. He should be glad that, even though he hadn't seen how he did it, Dick had not killed him. But he just felt sick.

Outside now, on the rooftop, Nightwing turned to him with his mask lenses down. "I want you to know…" he murmured, voice calm. "That I would have done it… If you hadn't asked me not to."

Jason gasped, staring at Dick with hands only trembling a little, or so he told himself. "Dick…"

"You're the reason that man's alive right now, Little Wing…"

The name hurt, it felt like Dick was reaching into his chest and squeezing his heart ruthlessly.

"Thank you, then…" he whispered in reply. He didn't know what he would have done if Dick had killed him, he didn't know what to do with what had happened. He'd never seen such cold rage from Dick before.

But he'd known, hadn't he? He'd known that he was capable of this. That inside all of them were shadows and vengeance. There were reasons why Bruce was the way that he was, after all, it wasn't all just because of his loss, it was protection as well. He protected the soft heart that lay beating in his chest with cool intelligence and planning, as did the new Babybird, Jason protected his heart with anger and violence. Dick… Dick had worked so hard to keep his heart exposed. He'd been stronger than the rest of them in that way, he'd fought to not withdraw. Certainly he was capable of hiding himself behind a smile, but with the people he trusted, the people he loved, there was never any question of how he felt for them.

And as these thoughts chased each other in Jason's mind he realized that Dick was really hurt, more than he'd realized, but that he had not truly changed. He'd just adopted a defence of his wounded soul.

That realization gave Jason hope, and he reached out to take Dick's hand, their gauntlet's creaking together.

"Let's go home…" he murmured, tone as gentle as he could make it, sounding a little broken.

Dick looked shocked, even behind the Nightwing mask. "Y-yeah, okay." He said, the cold veneer cracking away under the warmth of Jason's hand on his.

/

It was so unexpected, for both of them, to have Jason be the source of warmth this time, to have him stroke gently over Dick's cheeks as the mask came off, rubbing away remnants of glue there, touching their lips together in a tender, unhurried way that made Dick's breath choke in his throat and his bottom lip tremble under the attention. The coldness was melting away under Jason's heat, hands gently petting as he peeled away Nightwing to find vulnerable, beautiful Dick underneath it.

Dick was shivering against him as he finally got him out of the uniform, standing there in boxers and looking up at Jay like he didn't know what to do and the world was falling apart. His lips parted to say something and Jason just shushed him gently with a finger to his lips. He couldn't say anything, not now, he didn't have words for this and he wouldn't know how to make them comforting even if he did.

So he pulled away Red Hood, tossing the remnants of that dark personality aside and pulled his brother in, fingers sinking into that thick, soft hair like his hand was meant to fit there. Even with the sweat and the scent of fear and Gotham still clinging to their bodies there was still warmth here between them, still a connection that Jason hoped would be able to bring Dick back from the shell he'd been slowly withdrawing into when Jason wasn't paying attention.

And really, he should have known, shouldn't he? Looking back on it, when had he last seen Dick smile? When had he ever seen Dick drunk and upset like that? These weren't reactions that his older brother was known for, this was what Jason did, what Bruce did, how they hid their pain behind cool exteriors and violent acts, burying it in booze and bitterness, letting the world think that they just didn't have the emotion to care. He should have seen the signs of it, he knew them intimately by now.

Dick would have noticed, if it had been him…

Dick was leaning on his shoulder, head cradled in the crook of his neck, fine tremors moving through the muscles of his back until Jason slipped a soothing hand over them, petting away the frailness that seemed to be clinging to Dick's skin. Finally, something seemed to break, much like that moment in the bathtub, and Jason felt hot, silent tears dripping down his neck.

"What's happening to me?" Dick whispered, voice thick with tears, confused and horrified by his own actions just before. Jason remembered the frightening figure from that morning, the dark shadow that had covered Dick's features...

"I don't know…" Jason murmured back, fingers back in Dick's hair, massaging in tiny circular motions that made a small, broken sob escape his brother's throat. "We'll get you through it."

"We'll get through it…"

/

Over the next few days Jason remained in Dick's apartment, waking up early to get things ready for his brother, getting the mail before he did and hoarding the mentally scarring pictures somewhere hidden so that Dick wouldn't see them.

He had no doubts that Dick was aware that they were still coming. But he didn't need to see them.

Jason was determined now to find who this was, but it was difficult to investigate when he didn't want to leave Dick's side, didn't want to let him fend for himself. Not now, not with all of this happening.

It was this line of thought that led Jason to the phone when Dick was in the shower, swallowing thickly as he dialed the number that he had long since memorized but had never actually called. There had been many times he'd dialed, staring at the phone with his thumb poised over the call button.

He'd ever pressed it until now.

The line rang twice before it picked up, a crisp voice coming on that was so familiar, it froze him up for a second, choking on words he'd had prepared.

"Wayne Residence. How can I help you?" silence for a moment. "Is someone there?"

"A-Alfred. It's me." Jason said, wincing at his stutter, hating himself for being so moved by the man's voice.

"Master Jason?" There was surprise in that cultured tone, underlying emotion that was so normally unheard in the butler's tone.

"Yeah. Um, is Bruce around?" He nearly choked on the name. It was still hard to say, it was still hard to believe he was even doing this.

"I will get him immediately. Is there something going on with Master Richard?" Alfred asked, voice back to its usual prim politeness. But Jason knew why he was asking, knew that Alfred loved all of them, maybe more than Bruce did.

Certainly more than Bruce had loved him, anyway.

But this call wasn't about him, it was about Dick. So when Alfred put him on hold to go get Bruce, Jason forced himself not to hang up and chicken out. As much as he dreaded hearing that deep, familiar baritone voice coming over the phone he had to tough it out.

Still, his breathing was a little rapid, a little panicked when Bruce picked up the phone.

"Hello? Dick?" So Alfred had said it was about Dick but not who it was. Smart man.

"You're one Robin off." Jason said roughly, forcing his breathing back to normal. "It's cool though, I'm used to being the middle child." That's it, hide behind the snark, give yourself a moment to think. That's what Dick had taught him .

"Jason." And suddenly that voice was Batman low, a deep growl that made Jason automatically straighten his slouched posture and roll his shoulders back in a military stance. He cursed himself silently for it, hated how well trained he was, even now. "What is this about?"

"It's Dick." Jason returned briskly. "He's halfway off the edge and I don't think he'll fly if he falls off." He felt the anger boiling, the hatred bubbling under his skin for the person that was doing this to his brother, his lover… "Whoever sent you that video? They've been sending him screenshots of the tape. Daily. Too generic to trace, no fingerprints, nothing."

Silence. Not uncomfortable, like Jason was expecting, just thoughtful.

"Any notes? Requests? Threats?"

Jason sighed, he wished it was that easy. "Nothing. Near as I can tell the goal isn't blackmail, it's just torture." He bite his lip a moment, wondering if the words on his tongue should be held back, but he couldn't keep it all to himself, it made him feel too helpless to try and fix this alone. "Bruce, he nearly killed someone on patrol the other night. I've never seen him… I mean…" he didn't know how to describe it. It was still too unbelievable.

Bruce was silent again for a few tense minutes that had Jason entirely on edge. Dick would be out of the shower soon and he didn't want to be caught like this, on the phone with Bruce, talking about the investigation, talking about Dick. He felt guilty and sick. It was a feeling he was getting a lot and he hated it.

Finally Bruce spoke. "Come to the Cave tonight. Don't bring Dick. Drug him if you have to."

Jason bristled at the commanding tone, but knew he would obey anyway. "I'll be there."

/

He hung up quickly, got into the kitchen and made himself a sandwich just in time for Dick to find him, still damp and naked from the shower. The older man looked tired, exhausted really. And even though he'd been a good boy on patrol lately that creepy chilled demeanor hadn't left him. As soon as Nightwing's mask went on, Dick Grayson hid away behind the ice and the intent. It scared Jason down to the core.

Thankfully there had been no other incidents like the one before, and Dick hadn't taken one of Jason's guns again, for any reason. Still, Jason didn't want him going out on patrol alone. Not in the state he was in. And he couldn't bring Dick to the Cave with him, even to spite Bruce's orders. Dick was in no state to deal with any of this.

So, that night, when he grabbed Dick his usual before patrol snack, which happened to be a bowl of disgustingly sugary and colourful cereal, Jason only felt a small twinge of guilt as he tipped the sedative. Twice the normal dose, and he had more if it didn't knock him out. Bats weren't affected by drugs the way normal people were, but he still didn't risk more unless it was necessary.

Thankfully, Dick went down fast, no extra dosage needed, and Jason breathed a sigh of regret and relief as he carried him to his bed.

"Bet you'll think more about how those stupid cereals you're addicted to cover up the taste of poisons, huh?" he muttered to Dick's prone form, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He didn't know why, he just needed the contact. "I'm gonna fix this up for you, Big Bird. I won't let 'em hurt you anymore…"

/

The Cave had gotten an upgrade since the last time he'd been inside, but the scene he walked in on was familiar. Bruce was at the computer desk, typing away while Robin stretched and went through the motions of a well-memorized training routine in the space behind him.

The nostalgia knocked the breath from him like a well-aimed hit to the solar plexus. Had it really been so long since he'd been that kid? Stretching and doing flips and kicks in well-timed routines, showing off a little in the hopes that he might catch Bruce looking at him, that he might see just a hint of approval.

How many times had he craved that look like a dying man craved water in the desert?

He shook the memories off, he couldn't think about that now. He had a job to do.

Bruce glanced up when he walked closer, even though he'd undoubtedly known he was there the whole time. Tim stopped his training when he saw Jason, helmet under one arm, but domino mask still covering his eyes. He couldn't be unmasked in front of them, he just couldn't. It was like it gave too much of himself to them. Tim's expression looking at him was almost reverent and it made Jason uncomfortable. Soon the expression was pulled back though, hidden behind an impassive, intellectual mask. Jason could deal with that and he was glad for it.

Bruce watched him warily when Tim came closer and it wasn't like Jason could blame him, his history of playing nice with the family was not exactly spotless. Still, they both knew this wasn't about him.

"So," he murmured gruffly. "I'm here. What've we got?"

/

Not much, it seemed. Tim had analyzed the content of the video, despite Bruce's protests, and he went over the pictures Jason brought as well, making observations here and there before returning to the computer and typing away. Jason was impressed, begrudgingly, by Tim's professionalism. He kept it cool, his eyes only tightening a little in anger when he let it sink in who the victim was that he was looking at in those pictures.

"The photos are definitely from the video, so that's good at least. There's no other recording of it, just copies of the original…" the current Robin murmured, lips pressed together thoughtfully. He rubbed the bridge of his nose a bit and straightened up, looking at Bruce and Jason with solid, determined features. "Once we find who did this, we should be able to get the original copy and destroy all the recordings permanently." He took a deep breath. "And I think I know how to find the person who did it…"

Both Jason and Bruce turned their bodies towards him in a snap, giving him their full attention.

"How?" Bruce demanded, Batman voice in full force.

Tim practically jumped to attention, fingers flying over the keyboard. "I was worried that the person who did this might be after Dick's reputation as your ward. So I checked online for any indicators that the video had been posted online. I couldn't find any trace of the whole video, but the still images…" he sighed and clicked a url, bringing up a plain black webpage with a large picture of Dick bent over in the center. Eyes glassy and mouth open in a horrible grimace.

The title of the webpage was 'Dick Grayson's Secret Shame' with a subheading saying 'Life-ruiner, Whore, and Homosexual'.

Tim swallowed thickly. "The images are stills from the video, like the ones that got sent to Dick's apartment, but they're cropped a bit, edited to make it look like … like it was consensual…" he looked down, like the image was painful. "There's more, too, stories claiming that Dick has ruined people's lives, gotten people killed, used money and power he got from being Bruce Wayne's ward to make sure that no one he disliked was ever heard from again… Claims that he has secret male lovers that he's keeping from the press, mostly young men, underaged. It's all false, of course, nothing has any sort of evidence to back it up, but whoever put together the site was good at covering their tracks. I've been at it a whole day and I still can't pin down where and who it was…" his expression was deeply ashamed, he'd wanted so badly to have gotten this person for Dick by now. "I've tried to shut the site down too, but they have backups and they just repost it on a different server."

Jason was definitely impressed and more than a little sympathetic now, putting a hand on Tim's shoulder because he knew that's what Dick would do if the situation was different. "That's a hell of a lot of work, Baby Bird. Anything else on there that could point to who it is?"

Tim was surprised at the touch but his eyes seemed to light up with something like joy at the attention, which confused Jason but he didn't comment. Tim clicked another link and blew out a slow breath. "Well, they post something new every day… I haven't found anything yet but there's still hope that-"He was cut off short, staring at the screen.

Jason, who'd been looking at Tim, followed his gaze and froze, wide eyed. There, in full-colour HD picture, was him and Dick, leaving the theatre together like they had a few days before. A big red circle was drawn around their joined hands, with the word 'PROOF' scribbled in jagged angry letters.

Below it was an angrily typed message, saying that those who hadn't believed before should now, that Grayson was sick and twisted and had obviously forced the young man in the picture into unspeakable acts. Jason stared, realizing how young he looked, still nervous and unsure as he'd been with Dick that day, his face without its usual stern mask, revealing the youth beneath it. He looked exactly like what this person had described Dick as corrupting.

Below that picture was another one, a closer look at their faces, with Dick's eyes tender on the younger man's face as Jason is looking away. Jason frowned, not understanding that look, but far more focused on the red writing on the picture that said this:

"TAKE AWAY HIS TOY, WATCH HIM FALL APART."

Below, a close up of Jason's face could be seen in clear view.

There was a bloody red 'X' drawn over his face…