Chapter summary: Roy felt like a hypocrite before he even opened his mouth. Elsewhere, Dick takes a bath.

Roy felt like a hypocrite before he even opened his mouth. He turned to Jason, who was standing there with a gun limp in his hand and failing to hide his concern behind his usual anger.

"That fucker!" Jason hissed, throwing his hands up in frustration, "Can't just accept-"

"You need to leave," Roy interrupted. Not really, at least not completely or permanently; he needed Jason to listen first. Roy knew the younger man wasn't expecting that from him, but he needed Jason to understand. This was a delicate situation, and if Jason couldn't keep himself in check, then he would have to go.

Jason reared back in shock; his gaze was sharp and tinged in acid green. His hand flexed, and the gun creaked in his grip.

Roy continued, "If you don't listen to me, then I need you to leave." He knew how to take care of Dick Grayson. It was like a dance of careful words and bold action. It was a language he spoke fluently, if not a little rusty. He learned from trial and error; they all did.

Jason moved to speak, but Roy continued. He was steady against Jason's burning anger, painfully similar to Dick when they were teens. "Jay, you know I love you, man, but I need you to let me take the lead."

"Because you know him so well." Jason spat.

"I do." Roy agreed, keeping himself calm. He was ready for the lashing out. It was a trait shared between both former Robins.

"How the fuck would you know? You haven't been part of his life in ages." Jason countered; he was grasping at anything to make it hurt.

Roy chose not to answer him, instead redirecting and de-escalating. "It doesn't have to be forever. Just get some air; maybe grab us dinner from somewhere."

Jason snarled, but his shoulders dropped slightly; Roy counted it as a win.

"We'll be here when you get back," Roy reassured. He reached a hand out to place it on Jason's shoulder, only for him to flinch out of reach. Roy sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and collapsed back onto the couch. For all the ways Jason and Dick were similar, there was still a valley of differences. Years with Bruce and his honeyed words made them suspicious, taking promises with gains of salt. They both worked in action. Dick depended on comfort: a hand on the shoulder or a supportive shoulder to lean on, whereas Jason didn't like being touched. Jason needed acts of service: for someone to bring food or for you to just show up, and Dick would always expect some catch.

Jason eyed Roy with suspicion. He was still clutching his gun in a tight white-knuckled grip.

"You're right," Roy continued, " I haven't been there for him in a long time, too long. But I haven't forgotten. I have years of navigating an injured and stubborn Grayson. I've been there on the anniversary of his parent's death. I know their birthdays and wedding anniversary. I've comforted Dick through death. Jay," Roy blinked at him, "I was there when he found out about your death." he admitted like it was some deep secret. "And I know you don't want to hear it, but your death broke him in ways I've never seen. What Bruce did to him wasn't even a blip on his radar in comparison."

Jason flinched; the back of his legs caught the coffee table, and he barely caught himself from falling. Roy was right; Jason didn't want to know because it was much easier to focus on what Bruce did than to think about the context.

"I was there when Bruce died, and Donna died, and Wally was lost in the speedforce. I was there through the shitshows with Slade and Two-Face." Roy continued with a look of deep desperation as if trying to prove it to himself just as much as Jason.

"You don't go through hell without coming back the knowledge. I might not have been there for whatever happened to his Bludhaven apartment or his death or know who this woman is, but I know how to guide Dick back."

Jason felt hollow and empty, his ears ringing. Roy's voice kept him from floating away.

"I know what it is like to trip over yourself to offer him comfort. I know what it is like to hit the brick wall of stubbornness that is Dick Grayson. I know you want to be here. I want to help. But I need you to understand when I tell you to shut the fuck up; it is for a good reason."

Jason opened and closed his mouth, struggling to find something to say.

Roy stood again. He made an aborted move to clap Jason on the arm; instead, he offered an understanding smile, "I know," He said, eyes sad and smile painfully comforting. "You'll learn." Roy said, "We'll get him through this. We'll deal with the drive and that shitshow. And when it's all calmed down, I'll have Donna get out the Powerpoint."

Jason ignored the lingering questions of Two-Face, Slade, and all the other names Roy had just dropped. "Powerpoint?" Jason rasped, his voice rough and wet.

Roy was smart enough not to comment, "It's basically an instructional manual on caring for Dick Grayson. It's probably grown, but it was around 93 minutes the last time I saw it."

Jason pushed away the feeling of jealousy before he could figure out if it was jealousy of Dick for having such caring friends or Dick's friends because they have gotten close enough to his brother.

"Food?" Jason prompted.

Roy nodded in encouragement. "There should be an Indian place two blocks north or a Korean barbecue place east. Really head in any direction, and you should hit something."

Dick retreated into Donna's bedroom and into the bathroom. His breath was quick and painful. He went for the tub; it was large and free-standing with all of the top-of-the-line features and half the reason Donna chose the apartment in the first place.

Dick wrenched the faucet on, turning the temperature up. He could feel her hands running up and down his arms. Her fingers were around his neck and scraping down his back.

He itched at his arms, desperate for it to fill faster. He ignored the shower, the thought of rain sending shivers down his back.

It was just deep enough to dunk his head when he climbed in, fully clothed and still with bandages. The water burned, biting at his open wounds and searing away her touch. He ducked under the water, letting the roar of the filling tub chase away his thoughts.