Kindness

Silent as the night, he crouched down on the rooftop, staring down at the noisy city beneath him. Concentrating on the rushing lights below, he slunk further into the shadows. Still, he sighed as he heard boots tap on the tile as they landed. As the small sounds echoed through the night, his eyes narrowed. The glare he shot over his shoulder grew more intense as the one clad in red and blue said, "Wow, they really made you wear the Technicolor tights and do the sidekick shtick, didn't they?"

"Robin is not just any old sidekick," growled J.B. as he returned his attention to the dark city beneath them. "Being Robin is a stepping stone."

"Y'know," tutted Marty. "You shouldn't believe everything your parents tell you."

"I don't, but it's true. My Father started out as a Robin and now he's Batman."

Glancing at the back of his head, Marty strutted over. She stopped once she was beside him and coolly placed her hands on the barely there curves of her fourteen year old body. "Right, you keep telling yourself that, sidekick, as I swoop in and save the day."

"Yeah, right, " he countered as he rolled his eyes, "All this from the pale imitation to my left."

"What did you say, brat?"

"You heard me, snob."

"Twerp."

"Prima Donna."

"Shrimp."

"Freak."

"Why don't you just shut up?"

"Why don't you just shut up?"

"Why don't you both shut up?"

"Sorry Da-I mean Oracle."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Keep you minds on the mission at hand."

"Yes sir!" they replied in unison. Shooting each other one last glare, Marty headed for Metropolis as J.B. drew a grappling gun from his utility belt. Shooting at the nearest rooftop, he tested the line before swinging away to rendezvous with Batman.

Later that night, the Super-Bat team met up at the Bat cave. Dick pulled off his cape and cowl, making quick work of the rest of his costume. As he pulled civilian clothes on, he tossed the uniform over at his son who didn't seem to want to take his own costume off. For his part, J.B. sat at his Father's feet, carefully folding the revered black cloth as he recounted again and again the night's activities. Now and then, his voice rose higher, attempting to draw his Grandfather Bruce into the story of how the villain's nose made a most satisfying crunch as his heel smashed into it. Not too bad for his first night out. Not too bad at all, remarked Dick.

With his back to them, Bruce continued to enter statistical data from their nightly mission. As he heard J.B. hoot, he paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. With a smile on his face, he turned back and continued typing.

Suddenly, the boy's story stopped as he watched his Grandpa Clark and Marty descend gracefully. They touched down at the same time, smiling at each other as they did. As Marty headed for her Dad, Clark said loudly, "Bruce, you'd be proud of our little girl. She took down Livewire with minimal damage to surrounding structures and no loss of Human life."

"How did you accomplish that, Marty?" asked Bruce as he turned around and interlaced his fingers.

"Well, it was easy, Dad." Tossing her curly black hair over her shoulder, she took several steps forward as she glanced smugly at J.B.. "As I was flying into Metropolis to meet up with Pa, I heard the distress call naming Livewire as the villain. I was almost directly over RCP brickyard at the time. I remembered that silicon is resistant to electrical properties and flew down and talked the yard manager into letting me have a couple fifty pound bags of silicon dust."

"Once I arrived at the scene, Livewire and Pa were in the middle of a spectacular fight, but she wouldn't fully materialize. Instead of jumping into the fight, I laid in wait. Finally, she got cocky enough that she materialized behind Pa. So, I pounced. I ripped open the first bag and flung the dust at her as I quickly flew by. As she struggled to remove it, I ripped open the other bag and circled her, hitting her with the remaining dust until she was completely insulated in the stuff."

"Why did you use dust?"

"The dust was lighter and allowed for more surface area to be covered in the initial attack."

Smiling proudly, Bruce opened his arms and said, "That's my girl."

Quick as a flash, she crossed the cave and flung herself onto his lap. Hugging him around the neck, she kissed his cheek as she laughed.

In response, he hugged her close for a good minute before pushing her away and giving her a serious expression. Holding his hand up, he silenced her questions. As she chewed on her lower lip, he shot the Bat-glare at her and said, "I didn't appreciate the chatter I heard over the lines earlier tonight."

"Sir?"

"Don't 'sir' me. J.B. earned his costume just like you did. He wouldn't be wearing it if he hadn't. No one here questions his role or his place on the team so, in the future, kindly keep your comments to yourself."

"Yes, sir."

"The streets are a dangerous place. What we do is a serious thing. You have no place speaking of it so flippantly. I don't want you to do it again. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir," she whispered as she looked down at her boots. Turning around, she caught sight of J.B.'s self-satisfied smile. With a quiet growl, she felt her face grow hot as an explosion rang out from above.

"I had to see it with my own two eyes," called out a shrill voice.

Another small explosion, sent everyone scrambling for cover. Stalactites started to fall all around them. Quickly, Superman and Marty flew up, catching as many as they could, tossing them aside easily. As rubble rained down, the bat clan focused in on the source of the voice.

"Superman and Batman teamed up? There's a Supergirl? Wow. And a new Robin, too. You make this old bat cave seem almost domestic."

Instantly, Marty triangulated the voice as it echoed through the cave. Zeroing in on the source location, she shot off like a rocket. She stopped in mid-air a split second later, a green cloud surrounding her. As her face paled, she rolled slowly before falling like a stone.

From out of nowhere, J.B. emerged. Running at full speed, he jumped out at the last second and grabbed Marty. Wrapping his arms and legs around her, he spun them both to the side, rolling when they fell to Earth. Once they came to a stop, he pulled a gas mask from his belt and placed it over her mouth. As she gasped for breath, he started to brush the residue from her skin and costume.

"Pulverized Kryptonite. Dust, really."

Looking up at the cloud quickly spreading out, carried by the cave's ventilation system. Superman looked at both the effective shield and his prone daughter with the same helpless look on his face as he realized he couldn't approach either one.

"I remember when you taught me that trick, too, Bruce."

Across the cave, Bruce's eyes narrowed as he stood up and left his cover. Out in the open, he bellowed at the darkness overhead.

"Who are you?"

"You mean you don't recognize me?" was the mirth filled response. "Gee, Dad... That really hurts."

Suddenly, a bright light filled the cavern. At the center of the light, hanging from a grappling line, was Jason Todd.

"Jason?"

"So, you do remember, after all. I'm touched, Bruce. I really am." With a mock salute, Jason hit a button on his grappling gun and disappeared back into the darkness.

Immediately, Dick suited up and left on the batcycle.

"Jason, wait!"

"Grandpa Bruce! Marty's not breathing!"

The next several minutes involved multiple rounds of CPR. It took specialized equipment to remove all the traces of Kryptonite from the surface of her skin. Just as the machine proclaimed her officially clean, the bat cave internal environmental controls managed to clear the air. Placed on a lab bed, she remained deathly pale due to the Kryptonite she inhaled. Hooked up to life support, she remained perfectly still as J.B. kept watch, refusing to leave.

Kept away by the Kryptonite, Clark busied himself with clean-up. He cleared the rubble and swept up broken glass. He righted knocked over cabinets and consoles. Even as the traces of Kryptonite threatened to overwhelm him, he wouldn't retreat to the manor. Instead, he leaned on the broom until wave after wave of nausea died away. As the air cleared, he felt his strength return but he still kept his distance. From across the cave, he watched them work on Marty; the Kryptonite in her lungs alone was enough to keep him at bay.

Finally, he watched Bruce pat J.B. on the shoulder. Riveted on Bruce's approaching figure, he was about to ask for an update on their daughter's condition when Bruce walked right past him, a simple command left in his wake.

"Follow me."

Quickly, he complied. Falling into step with Bruce by the time they entered the manor, he asked no questions. Once outside, they walked with a common purpose to the Wayne family crypt. Inside, Clark paused at the door as Bruce approached the grave in question. Nestled between Martha Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth was the crypt plate for Jason Todd. Slowly, he slid his fingers along the edge, cursing at the dust. Taking a step back, he raised his hand, granting permission. Bowing his head as he stepped up to the plate, Clark took a deep breath as he eased his fingers under the edge of the bronze plate. With as little disturbance to nearby graves as possible, removed the slab of granite sealing the individual crypt.

Inside, sat the sturdy casket Bruce escorted home from Ethopia. Crouching beside it as Clark placed it on the ground, he ran his fingers across the smooth, brown surface. Releasing the lock, he opened it with a single swift gesture. The body inside was haunting. It appeared as if sixteen years of decay never touched it. Touching the pale cheek marbled with purple-green bruises, he fingers recoiled immediately.

"It's fake. Just a doll."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure. I inspected the body prior to placing it on my private plane. It was real at that point. Dressed in these clothes or in a set just like them."

"Were there any layovers?"

"None. The flight went straight from Addis Ababa to Gotham. The casket was picked up at the airport by-"

"Who, Bruce?"

"Alfred," he whispered as he pounded his fist on the casket edge. Standing up, he stared at the crypt plate to the right of the gaping hole in the wall. "He was very fond of Jason. The whole ordeal was difficult... for him. Perhaps he left the body unattended at the airport or here, on Wayne grounds, before it was interred."

"Wouldn't he have inspected the casket before?"

"No. He wouldn't have opened the casket. I had warned him that Jason didn't look very good."

"Do you think that was really Jason who attacked us, tonight?"

"I think that I no longer have proof that he's dead."

Returning to the manor, they entered the bat cave just as Batman arrived. Anger punctuating every movement he made, he growled as he ripped off the cape and cowl. Marching across the bat cave, he stopped a couple inches from Bruce and shouted, "You told me he was dead!"

"He was dead," he replied, returning Dick's intense glare. "I held his dead body in my own arms."

"You must have gotten something wrong, Bruce, because that was Jason. I would bet good money on it. Jason is alive."

"Who?"

The strangled voice sounded dry. In response, a plastic straw was pressed to her lips allowing her to slowly sip cool water from a waiting glass. As she exhaled, she asked again, "Who?"

"Marty!" cried Clark. In a flash, he stood by her side. Taking her by the hand, he helped her sit up. Still pale, she smiled at her Pa weakly as each second saw more color enter her cheeks. Finally, as she stretched, she cast a quick smile at J.B. before she stuck her tongue out at him.

"How do you feel?" came her Dad's concerned voice.

"Like I just got Kryptonite bombed, but all things considered, not too shabby."

Patting her gently on the shoulder, Bruce smiled. Helping her to stand, he said, "Let's get you back to the manor."

"Wait, Dad. Who was that? It was like he knew you."

"Don't worry about that, Marty."

"But, Dad?"

"I said drop it. You're off this case. It's too dangerous for you."

"But-"

"But, nothing," he commanded as he led her to the manor, through the door Barbara held open for them.

Across the room, Dick turned toward his son and ordered, "That goes for you, too, J.B. You're going to hang up the tights until this blows over. Do you understand?"

"That's not fair," whined the boy. Sitting on the stool gave him the illusion of added height and he used it. Meeting his Father almost eye-to-eye. "I just got out there. I worked for years for the chance to be Robin. You can't just take it from me, now."

"You need to learn now, J.B. I'm the lead in this team. I'm Batman. If I say stay in the bat cave, then you stay in the bat cave. There will be times when I can't explain my actions, even to you. You simply have to obey."

In disbelief, the boy shook his head before he squared his shoulders. Shooting one last glare at his father, he ran into the manor.

As he removed his suit for the second time that night, he heard the door close. He could sense the presence behind him, but he ignored it as he pulled on casual clothes. Just as he looked in the mirror to fix his hair, he heard her question.

"Do you really think it was Jason?"

Turning to face his wife, his angry eyes softened. Crossing over to her, he wrapped his arms around her. He placed his head on her shoulder and felt her slide a comforting hand over his hair. Nodding, he drew her closer to him.

"How can you be sure?"

"He knew things. He said things. He did things."

"What things?"

Slowly, he pulled away from her. Stepping away, he ran his hands over his face. As he cupped his chin, he recounted the events.

"I cornered him in an alley. I think he thought I might catch him. He started taunting me, trying to throw me off guard. He said something about Jason and how he was proof that Batman could kill. I snapped. I rushed him. I yelled that he'd regret ever choosing to impersonate Jason."

"He laughed. It was Jason's laugh. It was high pitched and lyrical, almost maniacal. He insisted he was Jason and that was when he said he always knew Batman never really understood him. He said... He said Nightwing would know it was really him."

"Nightwing?" asked Barbara as she placed gentle but firm hands on his back.

"It was the nick-name he gave me. Back when we were kids, Clark would come by to see Bruce and end up hanging out with us. He told us old legends from Krypton about two heroic figures named Flamebird and Nightwing. Jason and I loved these stories. We started calling each other Flamebird and Nightwing. I was Nightwing. Jason was Flamebird. We never told anyone. It was our secret."

Turning to face her, he looked down at her hands. Interlacing their fingers, he whispered, "After I lost my family, I thought I would never have parents, much less brothers again. Then, Bruce adopted me and Alfred welcomed me with open arms. I was fifteen when Bruce brought Jason here. He became my brother in every since of the word. I took him under my wing. I softened the blow where Bruce was concerned."

"This isn't a blow you can soften, Dick. He's not just your kid brother. He's a villain, now, and you're going to have to stop him."

In the manor, Bruce deposited Marty in her favorite chair in the library. He asked if she needed anything, but her only response was a curt shake of her head. Tension filled her body. Her eyes were full of questions and hurt. He didn't fall victim to any of it. Not the eyes that matched his own. Not the pout that once got her a pony when she was eight. None of it. Instead, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

A moment later, J.B. entered the room. Sulking, he crawled onto the sofa across from her and pulled his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them.

They sat in silence until Clark appeared at the doorway. Instantly, they sat straighter. Following him with their eyes, they watched him rest a tray on the coffee table. As he bowed down to fill their mugs with warm cocoa, they found their voices.

"Pa?"

"Grandpa Clark?"

With a snap, his head was up. His eyes shifted from one to the other as J.B. made his case.

"I know you and Grandpa Bruce are only trying to protect us, but we've earned the right to know."

"Earned, you say?"

"Yes, Pa," chimed in Marty. "We go out there, too. Dad was right earlier tonight. The work we do is dangerous. We put our lives on the line and that means we get the right to have some questions answered."

"I'm sorry guys, but this time, it's complicated. It's something we adults should handle by ourselves."

"Grandpa Clark, I know you see us as kids, but this man came into our home. He almost killed Marty. He's a threat and we have an obligation to protect this family and ourselves. How can we do that if we're not given all the facts?"

Looking his grandson in the eyes, Clark scrutinized the boy for a long moment. With a small smile, he watched as J.B. neither flinched or looked away before he nodded. Clearing his throat, he bent down and grabbed their mugs. He handed each one the warm cups before he walked over to the chair next to Marty and sat down. Taking a deep breath, he spoke softly,

"We believe the person who came here tonight is someone named Jason Todd, but that has not yet been confirmed."

"Who is he? He seemed to know Dad."

"Yeah, I think I remember him calling Grandpa Bruce "Dad."

"Marty, Jason is your brother. J.B., that makes him your uncle."

"What?" they cried in unison.

"Before either of you were born, Jason died fighting the Joker. He was only sixteen years old at the time. If that was truly Jason, then somehow, he's managed to come back to life."

"How is this possible? I've never heard anything about a Jason, much less having another brother besides Dick."

"Grandpa Clark, why is this the first we are hearing about this? My mom and dad have never mentioned this to me before."

"Marty, your father took Jason's death very hard. He felt responsible for the events that led to his death and for putting him in harm's way. He had everything that reminded him of Jason stripped from the manor. He ordered everything be destroyed, but Alfred placed them in a seldom used storage space in the manor instead. It's all still there."

"Grandpa Clark, the man who came here tonight was not dead. How is any of this possible?"

"That, I can't explain. Not yet."

"We have to help him."

"I don't know if we can, Marty."

"But, he's family, Pa. We shouldn't abandon him and we can't hunt him down like some dog in the street. It's not right."

"I'm sorry. It's just not that simple."

Shaking his head, Clark stood up. He seemed to pause to say something and then decided against it. With a weak wave, he bid them goodnight.

For the next four nights, Batman slammed every thug, loan shark and petty thief he could find up against the nearest, hardest wall. All he learned was that, at this point, they feared Jason more.

During the day, Barbara used her position as patrol commander with the Gotham Police department to further their search. She issued an all points bulletin for a young man matching Jason's description. In the end, all she found were twelve dead bodies - All members of Joker's gang.

The night of Jason's attack, Bruce started a file. He entered all known information concerning Jason Todd into it. He detailed the way the boy first came to his attention because he had managed to steal the tires off the batmobile. He entered information about his estranged father, Willis Todd, a petty crook who died years before he adopted Jason. Flexing his fingers, he pounded the keyboard as he entered the information for Sheila Haywood, the treacherous waste who dared to call herself a mother.

From memory, he listed the boy's abilities. His proficiency with a batarang. His acrobatic skill. His intelligence. His barely contained rage. Culling information from both Barbara and Dick's investigations, he conjured a current psychological profile. Staring at the result, Bruce felt a deep pit sink in his stomach. Shaking his head, he prepared for what had to be done.

Little by little, J.B. and Marty were allowed to return to the streets, if in a highly restricted way. They shadowed their respective Fathers. Marty took to the skies beside Superman while J.B. rode beside Batman as they tried in vain to get ahead of the vicious crime wave perpetrated by Jason Todd.

For six days, Jason eluded them. He always seemed to be two steps ahead. Hard to catch, he skated past every trap they set until finally they came up with the right bait.

On loan from Arkham Asylum, the Joker cackled and jeered incessantly. Vile words spewed from his mouth as he detailed his many crimes, some hitting very close to home. Seated on the hard floor of an abandoned warehouse, he laughed madly as Batman and Robin laid their traps. Finally, the stage was set. Falling back into the shadows, they waited for the main actor to enter the stage.

As expected, Jason didn't disappoint. He lowered down from the roof on a grappling line. Shining a light out at the darkness, he licked his lips when the Joker came into full view. A thirst for revenge filled his eyes as he dropped a grenade onto the floor at Joker's feet.

As the round, metal sphere bounced on the ground, a sense of self-preservation took a hold of the Joker. He scooted back as best he could with both hands shackled behind his back and both feet bound at the ankles. His head whipped from one side to the other, searching the shadows.

"Oh Batsy... If you're going to play the hero, now would be a good time."

Instead of black and gray, a blur of red, yellow and green flew past. Rushing to the bomb, Robin grabbed it and threw it as far as he could. The blast came forty feet later. About two feet from the ground, the percussion blast knocked Robin off-balance. As he hit the deck, Jason flung a disc at Robin that exploded ten feet over him, expanding into a wide net. As it made contact, the electrical current kicked in.

For several seconds after that, all that could be heard were Robin's screams.

Out of a deep shadow, a batarang flew. It landed beside Robin, touching the tazor net covering the convulsing body. Instantly, the screams stopped as the electric snaps faded, the electric current countered by the curved weapon.

"That's one deep fried bird. Mmmm... White meat. My favor-"

A swift kick to the head ended the Joker's attempt at comedy. Lowering his leg, Jason stared down at the unconscious man at his feet. Clenching his hands, he shifted his stance so he could land a kill shot. As his leg jerked forward, a voice called out behind him.

"Jason, stop!"

Slowly, his leg came back to Earth. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Batman emerge from the shadows. Turning to the cape and cowl, Jason sneered, "Still trying to save everyone, huh Batman?"

Pulling two guns from his waistband, he trained one on the Joker and the other on Robin. Cocking them both, he faced Batman and said, "Choose."

Dropping his hands, Batman let his cape fall around him. Crouching down, ready to pounce, he waited silently. He watched Jason closely. He examined the young man's tension filled body. The youthful features that seemed as much frozen in time as overflowing with rage.

"No opinion? No great lectures? Words of wisdom?" asked Jason sarcastically. Jason smiled wickedly and inched closer to Robin. Glancing down at the boy, his smile melted off his face. His eyes narrowed as he gripped his gun tighter.

"You haven't updated the costume at all. It could be my suit that he's wearing. Is it? My suit?"

Still, the Batman was silent.

Looking up, Jason trained wide eyes on Batman. Taking a few steps back, he whispered, "How could you? How could you replace me so easily? You called me your son. Didn't that mean anything to you?"

Slowly, the eye slits in his mask narrowed, but still, Batman said nothing.

"Don't you have anything to say to me!" he screamed as he turned away from his hostages. He took a few steps up to the caped crusader. Pointing his weapons at the sky, his whole frame shook with rage as he yelled, "Damn it! Say something!"

"Flamebird?"

As Jason stood straighter, Batman did the same. Reaching up, Dick watched confusion and curiosity spread across his youthful features. As he removed his cape and cowl, he asked, "Brother, don't you know who I am?

"Dick?"

"Yes."

"No, this can't be. Not you. It can't be you. What kind of a sick joke is this? Bruce is Batman. Are you hiding him? Did you put on this costume just to protect him?"

"No, Jason. Don't you realize how much time has passed? Bruce hasn't worn the cowl in nearly ten years.

"It doesn't matter. He still betrayed me. He said we were a family but that was a lie. He let them take me. He let them do this to me. How could he? He said we were a family."

"Who, Jason? Who did this you?"

"Ra's al Ghul. He put me in the Lazarus Pit."

"Oh Jason. Bruce didn't know. I swear he didn't. None of us did. As for family... Jason, you've missed so much. Barbara and I got married. The new Robin is our son. Bruce got married, too. We have a sister, now. Please, Jason. Let me help you. Come back to the bat cave with me."

Extending his arms, Dick begged him silently to return, to give himself up peacefully. Maybe, there was a way to keep this all quiet. Maybe, this could all just go away. There had to still be a way to save his little brother. He couldn't bare to lose any more family.

Shaking, Jason met Dick's gaze. He wavered for a second before taking a step back. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shrunk back from Dick's open arms. On reflex, Dick pulled a batarang and a bat-lasso from his belt. He ordered Jason to stop, threatened to use the weapons against him. Visibly trembling, Jason shook his head once more before retreating into the shadows. Falling to his knees, Dick watched him disappear into the pitch black darkness. Letting the weapons fall from his fingers, he dropped his head in his hands.

A moment later, screams filled the space as an eerie glow shone in the distance. As the distant spark retreated, quiet returned. Slowly, a new sound emerged from the oily blackness. The click-clack of footsteps grew louder and louder until, out of the void, Bruce appeared, cradling Jason in his arms.

Hours later, Jason woke up. He went to shield his eyes from the bright lights only to realize that he couldn't move his hand. Taking a quick assessment, he slowly began to grasp that he couldn't feel his body. The only part he seemed to be able to control were his eyelids which he started blinking furiously simply because he could. Slowly, feeling worked it's way down his face. He scrunched up his lips as he started to regain control of his mouth and tongue.

"Don't try to speak."

Tenderly, two fingers landed on his forehead. Looking up, Jason watched as Bruce slowly came into his line of vision.

"You're shackled and I have a potent paralytic hooked up to your i.v.."

Instantly, he stopped twitching, he directly returned Bruce's gaze. A sad smile ghosted over Bruce's features before he sighed loudly.

"The night you broke into the bat cave, it was like Lazarus returned to life. It brought back all the old memories that I pushed away years ago. I felt a peace I hadn't felt since the day you died. Jason. Honestly, you were the one that reminded me the most of myself. The way you flung caution to the wind. Your determination. Your rage."

"It was your rage that drew me to you. When you were a boy, I tried my best, but I never could cure you of it. With all those hours of practice, I attempted to channel that anger, to give it a positive outlet. I even took you out in the field hoping responsibility would help you hand over some of the rage within you."

"But now, I realize that there never was anything to you but rage. Recent events have only served to confirm that fact. After all that has happened to you, I doubt very much that there is anything left in you. While I hope you can still someday get past what has happened to you, I no longer have the luxury of tolerance."

"I can't bring myself to kill you straightaway, but I can't stand by and let you threaten the safety of this family. So I'm banishing you. Listen very carefully, Jason. I've implanted a device in your brain. You will be released anywhere you want in Europe. You will be equipped with a phone and Lucius Fox's personal phone number. Lucius has graciously agreed to act as a liaison and send you any money you request. You will be cared for as the Wayne you are, but, be clear, you are never to return to Gotham. If you step one foot into the city of Gotham, the device in your brain will kill you."

"Bruce?"

Again, the fingers returned to his forehead. Soon, the heavy weight of a hand laid flat across his skin. Helplessly, he watched Bruce reach over to something he highly suspected was his I.V. line. As the world started to spin, the last words Jason heard were:

"Jason, it really is good to see you're alive, son."