Chapter 2: Jason
It was actually Jason Todd, who found Dick Grayson sprawled out across the apartment's living room floor.
Clutching an empty bottle of pills and passed out, covered in a copper smelling red liquid, Jason was fearing the worse.
Frantically, Jason had searched for a pulse from the twenty three year old man. When he finally felt the meek but steady thumping underneath his fingertips he felt a weight he didn't know was there lift.
Not five minutes later he was on his phone, desperately calling anyone and everyone he could think of.
A lot of the people weren't picking up, not surprising since midnight was about an hour ago and a lot of the population still had work in the morning. (Selfish assholes).
Hell. Jason wouldn't have even been there at this time of night if he hadn't forgotten his leather jacket a couple Sundays ago during poker night.
When everyone left Dick's apartment they were all piss drunk, so at that moment it may have slipped his mind.
Jason snuck a quick glance at the figure he had once identified with as a brother. (He still did, even if he was too proud to admit it). Things had gotten better recently, but he still resented the man. Bruce, whether he knew it or not, always played favorites.
Though staring at Dick now, who was clad limply in only his black and blue Nightwing costume, (the one from the Young Justice series, mask included), Jason could not help but feel just a bit underwhelmed.
This was the unattainable shinning standard he had idolized? That's just sad.
Just as another number timed out, he snapped back to calling. No way was Golden boy dying. Not unless it was Jason himself who got to kill him.
Finally, after what felt like hours, someone picked up.
"Hello? This is Watchtower. Who is this?" The very confused (and tired) voice of one Oliver Queen blared to life from the phone's shitty speaker.
All in one breath, Jason responded.
"It's Red Hood. I need the clinic prepared immediately and I need to be ported up. Now."
There was a moment of silence, then a rough, teasing chuckle.
"Aw, did the big bad bad-boy get hurt? Cause last time I checked you weren't really the type to ask for help. I mean I'm flattered but-"
"God dammit GA! It's not for me, it's for fucking Nightwing! Something's wrong with him and I don't know how much longer he's going to last like this!" A tinge of desperation had crept its way into Jason Todd's snarky voice.
No noise was heard from the phone's speaker and for a moment Red Hood was terrified Green Arrow had hung up on him. Then there was a slight clicking of computer keys. Jason huffed a sigh in relief.
"Okay. I have some of the Techs setting up the med bay, you'll have to get Nightwing up to the roof though. I can't Zeta you two from your current location, the kid made sure of that." Though the comment seemed like a joke, there wasn't the usual tint of mirth in the blond man's voice.
"Do you know what's wrong with him?" He sounded hesitant, and it was only that tone that kept Jason from hanging up immediately.
"No GA. No clue."
--line break--
Standing in front of a large rectangular panel of glass, one that kept the room he stood in separated from the white medical ward, Jason felt out of place.
It wasn't even the lack of his helmet, (he never really fit in with the hero community anyways. Why would he care)? But just being there, as his brother was carefully placed onto a stuffy cot. He felt like he was seeing something private. Nightwing just looked so vulnerable.
His brother's rich skin was a bit paler than it normally was. The top half of his Hero suit peeled off so the bandages wrapped around his midriff were clearly visible. A brace was placed around one of Nightwing's pointer fingers. It being linked up to a monitoring machine. The machine beeping in time with his brother's thumping heart.
Red Hood, honest to god couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He knew that his brother hadn't been his usual self lately. The crime rates in Bludhaven had risen again for about a week, before Jason had taken matters into his own hands.
Sure he knew all of the meaningless facts that Oracle had spewed to him over the phone, but never once had it ever occurred to him how bad things had actually gotten. She kept asking him to check in on Nightwing, to make sure that he didn't try to go on patrol.
And Jason had tried to. -At first.-
Then he had just simply forgotten. Look where Jason's lack of good will had gotten them. Literally the hospital.
It didn't help his already screaming conscience that Dick was sporting a few scrapes and cuts that hadn't been there when he had first found him. Oh god. Jason cringed just thinking about it.
--flashback--
Thankfully his brother lived on the top floor of the four story apartment. Making the stairs to the roof only a ways down the mostly rubble tile hallway. (Very helpful for late night excursions as a certain masked vigilante).
The only problem was very much passed out twenty three year old man named Richard, splattered in his own blood, laying on his back on the thinly carpeted floor.
What if someone comes looking for him? Simple. Lock the door you idiot, Jason's subconscious unhelpfully supplied.
Grunting, Jason had hefted the older male onto his back, he grabbed the empty pill bottle from the floor, and stuffed it into an empty gun holster on his belt to further investigate later. The window he had entered through already closed.
He still hadn't found his leather jacket, but he scowled as he realized he wouldn't really have the time to locate it that night.
After the first few steps towards the door Red Hood cursed as he figured out the source of the bleeding.
Where his brother's chest touched his back, he could feel the warm liquid seep into his suit. The black Kevlar of his Red Hood vest-armor becoming sticky and gross as the blood soaked into the woven article of clothing.
At the rate Nightwing was losing blood, it was no wonder he was passed out.
Hurriedly Jason had sprinted to the door to the roof. Locked. Fuck. Not thinking of the consequences he violently used one leg to kick the door knob. As it went flying, too late did he realize his mistake.
With the added weight on his back Jason quickly lost balance, and fell backwards. Then was his second mistake. As his reflexes took over, he let go of Nightwing's limp body, in favor of catching himself in a
backbend. (He looked like an arch).
Red Hood cringed as he heard a thump behind him, presumably the smaller body of his brother hitting broken ceramic tiles.
A loud groan met his ears and he felt a bit relieved, at least Dick was still alive.
With the door open, Jason had rushed his brother to the roof for the zeta transport. All the while trying to ignore the nasty bump forming at the back of Nightwing's head.
--end flashback--
He didn't tell the medics who were rushing around his brother where those extra scrapes had come from, but he knew that they weren't prioritizing those at the moment.
No, what they were focusing on was the fact that the blood gushing out of Richard's body wasn't stopping.
Another nurse hooked up a blood bag to a needle, along with two clear bags. (One probably sedatives, the other most likely water). Then she gently gorged the needle into the crook of his brother's elbow.
Jason felt a twinge of satisfaction as the limp form on the bed winced unconsciously in his sleep. Good one nurse.
Dick Grayson was trying to bleed out, and they'd be damned if anyone on the Watchtower let that happen.
Jason walked over to a chair in the clinic's wait room after a nurse closed the viewing window.
The chair looked relatively comfy, so he promptly collapsed. Sure there was a nagging voice in his head telling him that it was only going to be hours before Batman stormed in. And he would have listened to that voice and left too. -Had it not been 2:20 in the morning.
Sleep was top priority. Can't shoot people when you yourself are also dead on your feet.
Jason drifted off into a hopefully dreamless rest. A bleeding bird in the room across from him as still as a lifeless corpse, and a forgotten pill bottle tucked away in one of his gun's holsters.