Title: #noIinteam
Characters/Pairings: Jason, Dick
Ratings/Warnings: T; rated for language
Category: Gen
Summary: A Battle of the Cowl AU in which Jason returns to the family and things are far, far more civil. Set after Bruce is "killed" in "Final Crisis." Told from Jason's POV.

He climbed in through the window.

He could have used the front door. Or the back door. Or even the other door in "the basement." He knew he could have. No one would have stopped him. But honestly, at this point, entering by any of those doors wasn't an option anymore. Not even now. Not for him.

Considering he just about pissed himself when he saw Dick sitting like a fucking creeper in the dark, though, maybe entering the Manor through one of the doors wouldn't have been such a terrible idea.

Jason hefted two pistols, body wired for an attack, but Dick did not move. He was still dressed in his Nightwing uniform, sitting with his head bowed, elbows on his knees and one of Bruce's cowls—one of the first, with those stupid bat-ears that looked more like baby goat horns than anything—resting limply in his hands. He was staring down at the hollow mask as though it held the answer to the universe, his face rent with such a deep agony that Jason froze in place.

"So it's true," he murmured aloud.

Dick didn't flinch. Jason shouldn't have been surprised Dick had noticed him enter, even if his elder brother hadn't so much as moved a muscle in the last fifteen seconds. Hell, the fucker had probably witnessed his heart nearly burst from his chest and hadn't so much as giggled at him (or lectured him) for the oversight.

But then again...what had he done lately to deserve anything like familiarity from Dick?

Jason was suddenly very conscious that this was one of the first times he stood face-to-face with his older brother since the Joker had blown him sky-high. A lot had changed. Maybe too much, especially in Jason's case, but Jason had never needed to do anything to earn Dick's love. None of them had. And now, standing before each other as equals and not as rivals, Jason realized that that was exactly why he'd avoided Dick since coming back to Gotham: because he'd known, deep down, he never deserved Dick's love in the first place.

(But he did very much deserve his disappointment, and facing that was harder than Jason ever thought it would be. Harder than it ever was facing Bruce's).

Fuck. Bruce…

"It's true," Dick whispered.

Jason released a slow, shaky breath, and as Dick bowed forward again, hiding his face, Jason took a second to close his eyes and…remember.

"The funeral is Tuesday," Dick said abruptly, his voice dead and hoarse.

Jason refocused on his brother. He'd been yelling, maybe crying, and it suddenly made sense—why Adoring Eldest Brother was sitting alone in the dark, brooding like Bruce when he should have been with the others. This...this was a time for family, and Jason wouldn't be the first to admit that was why he was here—it was professional curiosity, that's all—but...

No, he shouldn't lie to himself. That was why he was here.

No matter his beef with Bruce, which was as raw and bloody and tough as beef could possibly be, no matter how he felt about his place in this family since he'd come back, and no matter how his brothers or any of the girls felt about what he'd done...it was as Alfred always told him, in private: this was still his family.

All of the shit he'd done, all of the points he'd been trying to prove? It felt petty, all of a sudden, and so, so stupid. He was a moron. A bigger moron than the others seemed to think he was.

But...he was here now, so maybe that would count for something. Meaningful gestures and actions were always more powerful than wordy apologies in this family anyway.

Bruce had taught them that.

Jason's eyes burned, and after holstering his guns, he yanked off his helmet in self-disgust, ignoring the rumble and lurch of guilt and regret stirring his gut. Shaking out his hair, he rounded the armchair and crouched in front of Dick. "...What are we going to do?"

Dick ran a thumb over the bat-cowl's brow and very obviously avoided Jason's eyes.

Realization crept up on him with all the subtlety of a speedster in tap-dancing shoes. And struck with all the force of one coming at him in a dead sprint, too.

"You can't be serious," Jason deadpanned.

For the first time, Dick looked him dead in the eye. "Gotham needs Batman," he said, as if it were simple as that.

Jason's stomach rolled in revulsion. "No."

Dick's lips twitched into a humorless smirk. "Et tu?"

Jason had always hated that smirk. That smirk was all Bruce. It had no business being anywhere on his brother's face, and Jason suddenly remembered sitting up with Dick at two in the morning, after that disastrous failsafe exercise, telling him—promising him… "I won't let you do this to yourself," he snarled.

"You won't let me?" Dick asked, eyebrows raising.

Dick was baiting him, that much was obvious, even if the strain on his voice totally invalidated the attempt. It was almost pathetic, seeing Dick this lost and vulnerable, which, in it of itself, was another tempting piece of bait.

Jason might have been tempted to bite, once, months ago. Back when he was executing his plan to manipulate the entire family into his plot to kill the Joker, when he used every backhanded tactic he could, including things that had been shared in confidence between brothers. Back when he was bitter and furious, his vision tinged green with Pit Madness and his thoughts warped by Talia Al Ghul.

But that was then. Now, everything had changed. Bruce was gone. And he…he wasn't coming back.

"Dick," Jason began.

"You don't know a damn thing!" Dick hissed. "You haven't been here! You don't see Alfred struggling to keep us together! You haven't seen Tim tearing himself apart, in complete denial that Bruce is gone, and Damian! Damian is a mess, Jay. Talia and the League still have a hold over him, and it's one I'm not sure any one of us can shake, not without this." He shook the cowl.

"What do the others have to say about this?" Jason demanded. "Do they agree?"

Dick pursed his lips, eyes flashing angrily. "I don't need this right now, Jason. I'm done fighting with you."

That was a loaded sentence, but Jason didn't let that distract him. "Tell me, you turd," he retorted. "I think you need to hear yourself say it."

The fire in Dick's eyes subsided, and after giving Jason a contemplative look, he sighed, turning to stare out the window. "Alfred doesn't say it, but he…he doesn't want this. Tim...Tim is..." Dick swallowed. "He isn't taking it well. He thinks Bruce is alive. And Damian hasn't exactly been helping matters. He'd only just found his father again."

Jason read between the lines. We've been fighting. He didn't know how to feel about all that, so he decided that was a future-Jason problem. "And what about the Team?" he asked. "Surely they have a few things to say about what you're planning!"

"They don't know. Neither does the Justice League. Yet."

Jason blinked, finding that hard to believe. "Wally doesn't know?"

Dick grimaced and tilted his chin toward the light, displaying a bruised jaw. "Wally...Wally thinks..."

Jason knew exactly what Wally thought. He was thinking it too. "Batman will fucking kill you, Dick."

"I can handle it."

Fury ignited in Jason's chest, bright and almost desperate in its insistence. "It's not a matter of whether you can handle it, dickhead! You're Nightwing. You lead a covert team that does missions across the globe, and you work in Blüdhaven. You were Robin. You can handle anything Gotham throws at you."

Jason realized what he said too late, but he didn't have the time to be embarrassed about revealing just how much he still respected Dick. He didn't even have time to mourn the spontaneous combustion of neither his newfound independence nor the cold-and-distant persona he'd been putting on, if only to keep the family from nosing into his business. In that moment, all he could do was inwardly curse Bruce. If he were here, Jason might have thrown a gun or two at his stupid ass head and admitted that, yeah, the all-mighty Batman won. Again.

Better to own it, then.

"You were right there beside him when most of our rogues spawned," Jason continued, "and you know the city as well as Bruce—No, don't you dare say a damn word. I'm talking right now." Dick closed his mouth, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "But despite all that shit, Batman will strip away everything you are. And I'm sorry, but I'm with Wally and everyone else on this: that's not going to fucking happen."

I promised you, Jason was trying to say. And I'm here now to keep that promise.

"What choice do I have?" Dick croaked angrily, and Jason was sure he'd had this argument over and over again with Tim and Wally and maybe even Alfred. "You realize what's going to happen when Gotham realizes Batman is gone, don't you?"

"Yeah, it'll be a fucking shit-show," Jason admitted, "but we're his protégés, we can—"

"We again?" Dick scoffed. "I'm surprised at you, Jason."

Jason gnashed his teeth. "Shut the fuck up. Bruce is dead. He's gone. This is not the time to remind me of what I should and shouldn't have done before..."

Dick's face suddenly crumpled as Jason trailed off. "Jay..."

"This isn't about me," Jason said sternly. "This is about you. Trying to be Batman. You never wanted to be Batman. And we both know Bruce never wanted it for you either."

Sighing, Dick placed the cowl aside and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked totally wiped, as though a single breath could topple him over, and Jason felt a surge of rage at the others—at Dick's supposed friends and allies. Did they not see how Dick was falling apart at the seams?

Hypocrite, his own mind hissed.

"What's your great suggestion then?" Dick demanded. "I can't leave Gotham to the psychos out there. The GCPD would be overrun, and we'd have just as much luck, don't deny it. Batman has always been something more to Gotham, you know that."

Jason got it. He didn't like it, but he did get it.

"And Jason...Damian needs Robin," Dick added. "He needs it more than any one of us ever did."

"Fuck off," Jason said with a roll of his eyes. "I never needed Robin. I had Redbird. Why doesn't Damian need Redbird? Why is it always about Robin?"

Dick raised his eyebrows, a hint of his humor returning to him. "You'd give your name to Damian?"

Jason scowled. "It's the principle of the thing, Goldie."

Dick huffed a laugh. "Fine. Damian needs to spread his wings. He needs to feel as though he has a place in this family, and if he chooses Robin or if he chooses a name for himself, it doesn't matter to me. Happy?"

"I'm never happy," Jason said with a straight face. He crossed his arms. "And I'm not happy about this."

He nodded to the cowl, and the brothers stared at it, its significance and the responsibility that came with it weighing upon them.

Dick was too good to be Batman, and Batman was too dark to be Dick. Besides, Dick had grown beyond Batman, and he'd fought tooth and nail to get to where he is now. Nightwing was Dick's best self, and he'd never be the same if he put that cowl on.

"I can't let you do this," Jason said again. A sudden calm overcame him, and he suddenly knew exactly what needed to be done. "I'll do it."

Dick jolted to his feet so fast Jason barely registered the movement. "No," he bit out.

Jason looked up at Dick. "And why not?" When Dick hesitated, Jason snorted. "I'm not going to fuck this up, dickhead."

"You've been erratic in the field," Dick accused.

"I crawled out of my own grave, a complete vegetable, after six months of death, and then had a dip in a Lazarus Pit," Jason deadpanned. "I think that gives me at least a bit of a pass."

Dick winced, but he did not yield. "You've been trying to divide us for months. Babs and I nearly broke up because of you."

"…Yes."

"You've pitted Damian and Tim against each other."

"Sure did. And it was kinda hilarious."

"You tried to manipulate Bruce into killing the Joker for you. And dragged us all into it."

"I did."

"You've beheaded people. And then toted their heads around in a duffle bag."

"They deserved it."

"And what if you're out as Batman and you realize more people 'deserve it?'" Dick snapped. "We don't kill, Jason."

Jason closed his eyes. He knew he deserved that, on a logical level, but damn if he was going to sit down and take that shit. "I'm not perfect," Jason said, struggling to control his tone. "And I won't make excuses. I don't think we've been doing this crime-fighting thing right, and you think otherwise. Fine. Agree to disagree. But do you really think I would put that cowl on and stomp on Bruce's memory like that?"

"You've attacked us, played against our weaknesses," Dick whispered. "Jason, I love you—and I think we've all forgiven you—but how can we trust you?"

Jason shrugged, self-loathing humbling him. "I don't expect you to."

Dick's blue eyes bored into him like drills, scrutinizing him. He must have found whatever it is he was looking for because he lost the tension in his shoulders and slouched back into the armchair. "You're serious about this," he mused.

It was not a question, but Jason answered it anyway. "Yes."

"And what about Red Hood?"

Jason pursed his lips. He had a newfound responsibility to the Narrows, to Crime Alley, to all the nooks and crannies of Gotham the other members of the family tended to overlook. He faltered for a moment, his heart torn in two, before he centered himself. "Tim can cover for me. He's already been working some of my cases with me."

"What?" Dick asked in surprise. "Really?" He looked a little put out, as though offended for not having been invited.

Jason smirked. "He's the least intolerable right now, so yeah, really. He's asked me for Redbird, you know."

"You're..." Dick suddenly smiled, his face alight. "Did he really?"

"The moment Damian was back," Jason admitted. "But even after I gave him my blessing or whatever, Bruce shut him down." He rolled his eyes. "He didn't trust Damian out there with him. And he didn't want to give up the memory of his 'good soldier' either."

Dick's eyes hardened, and there was complete silence for several moments. "We're going to do better," Dick suddenly said. "We're going to be better."

Jason's eyebrow rose. "We?"

"We. If you can't let me take on the cowl, then I can't let you take it either."

"So what? We'll shareit?" Jason scoffed.

Dick smiled, which was answer enough for Jason. He wanted to automatically scowl and tell Dick that this was a disaster in the making, and that there was no way in hell this would work, but…the longer the idea steeped, the more appealing it became. Neither of them would come away unscathed, of course, but neither of them would have to lose too much of themselves to the cowl either. Dick wouldn't have to sacrifice everything just to play this role, and neither would he. Sure, there'd be an adjustment period. Sure, they'd both have to be responsible for Damian. They'd have to alter their fighting styles to match Bruce's, adjust their way of thinking—give to get—but there was a compromise. Compromise was something that was hard to come by in their world—and even harder to come by in the depths of the Bat Cave—and it was as delectable as Eden's golden fruit.

There was still a lot to talk about, a lot to work through, and there would undoubtedly be a lot of hard times ahead, but it was a start. His gesture had been made…and accepted.

Jason began to grin. "Alright, Dickiebird. I'm listening."