Chapter Text
Dick POV
He'd love to make it look like an accident. He really would. But that runs the risk of hurting or traumatizing bystanders. Besides...his family is far too smart for that. They'd never be fooled into believing it was an accident. Most of them might accept that at first, but Bruce or Tim would catch onto some tiny detail he forgot about, and it would unravel from there. They're all detectives. All it would take is a single tiny hint to undo the illusion.
Well, at least that opens his options. Rope? No, that's not a good way to go. Knife? That would leave a mess for the landlord. Jump? Quick and easy, but it would leave his body an ugly mess, and he doesn't want his brothers to see that. Overdose? That would work, but what kind? Over the counter, or street? No, can't be street, that would hit too close to home. So, drugstore it is.
Jason POV
"I swear to god, dickface..." he swears under his breath as he climbs up the rusty metal stairs. His brother was supposed to meet him for patrol. Two hours ago. And the idiot hasn't answered comms, calls, or texts. He's probably asleep. Nah, he's definitely asleep. Worked overtime at the precinct again and shut his eyes for a sec and forgot to set an alarm. That's all.
Thoroughly irritated worried, he taps roughly on the window of Dick's apartment.
"Oy! Dickwing!" he shouts through the glass. "You fall asleep or somethin'? Get ya punk ass out here!" He crosses his arms and paces on the landing of the fire escape. He gives it a few minutes seconds then raps on the window again. "Anybody home?" He stands still, listening. No movement, no hurried shouts telling him to wait a minute. Nothing. Huffing in frustration, he bends down to peer through the glass.
The living room is empty, as are the kitchen and the hallway. That sick feeling he had earlier - the one that told him to make sure Dick had actually fallen asleep - grows stronger. With a silence that's a far cry from the noise he was making before, he slides the window open and shimmies through. His feet land on the floor with practiced softness, and he pulls his gun from its holster. Flicking the safety off and holding it in front of him, he quietly moves down the hallway. He checks the bathroom first. Nothing. The spare bedroom is next. Nothing. The door furthest down the hall is Dick's bedroom, and he opens that one last.
The gun slips from his hand and lands at his feet with a loud thud.