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People were screaming; some were even crying. For help. For Nightwing .
And Dick was trapped between two pieces of concrete — he could feel the blood trickling down his leg and then he shifted to cough in an attempt to get the dust out of his throat.
His ribs burned with every movement of his chest, but Dick pushed past it. He pushed himself out of the gap between the slabs, and then stopped to assess the damage. He needed to help those people; he needed to—
Gloved hands grabbed onto his armpits, and he almost heaved a sigh of relief. Bruce — Bruce was here and he’d help the civilians.
“B—” he choked out, wincing as he was set down on the rubble covered street. “I need—” His throat burned; he felt sick. He shifted to look at Bruce but Bruce’s hand just kept him rooted to the spot.
“Not B,” the other person eventually said through the modification communicator, and Dick froze. He blinked and craned his head to the best of his ability to stare at whoever had saved him.
He couldn’t see much between the dust in the air and his own vision blurry but he could just make out a metallic helmet. Colour drained from his face, and he pushed on the concrete to get himself into a standing position.
He swallowed, and Slade — this had to be Slade — stared right at him, guns and all. Dick pressed his right leg onto the floor, and bit back a hiss of pain; he reached for his escrima sticks.
“Dick.” he said carefully, and eyed Dick’s leg for a second before staring at Dick’s face. “You’re injured, don’t be stupid.”
Dick leaped at the man, ignoring the searing pain shooting through his legs and his ribs.
The man lifted his hand to remove his helmet and Dick’s eyes widened for a split second—
Jason caught him, but this couldn’t be Jason. His younger brother was here — Dick bit back a sob as the boy lowered him to the ground. “This isn’t—” he cut off with another coughing fit and then lifted his head to glare at Jason.
“You’re not Jason,” he said and blinked. This wasn’t like the other hallucinations, Jason was solid around the edges now. “You can’t be — I’m hallucinating,” he said to himself and tried to drown out the screams for help.
“I’m dying,” he said as a small realisation and another cough forced its way out of his chest.
“You’re not dying, idiot.” Not Jason snapped back, but Dick was already sobbing and leaning against the concrete slabs.
Something clicked in Jason’s mind, and he pulled Dick into a sitting position. “What injuries?” he said sharply, and Dick sniffled for a moment. “Robin, what injuries?”
That at least got Dick out of his sniffing state, and he straightened up. “Possibly a few broken ribs, broken leg,” he breathed out shakily, and Jason’s hand went to press softly against Dick’s carotid artery. “Difficulty breathing.”
Then Dick struggled again. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped, and brought his escrima stick to hit Jason's head. The younger boy hissed in pain, and wrenched the weapon out of Dick’s hand. “Don’t—”
Dick’s struggling only worsens his vision, and everything blurs. He choked out, coughing, and Jason’s hand splayed across his back.
“Fuck— fuck you.”
That’s what he last remembers before slumping down against Jason’s metallic suit.
There’s a hand on his torso, Dick startled, and the hand pulled away. His head was pounding, and he managed to peel his eyes open to — a ceiling. He blinked and then it took him a moment to realise that he’s on a couch.
There’s a pillow behind his head, one under his leg — the leg that had been wrapped up in a cast and he frowned.
He glanced to the left of him, and someone’s sitting on a stool and holding a wad of bandages. The boy — Dick blinks and it’s Jason — is staring down at him.
“Was going to wrap up your broken ribs,” Jason said, and Dick still couldn't believe his eyes. “You kept freaking out on me, so—” He held the bandages out to Dick and watched as the older man pulled himself into a half sitting, half lying position on the couch.
“Jason.” Dick whispered and moved a hand to touch Jason’s cheek, as if to prove that he’s real.
“Dick.”
“You’re— you’re real,” Dick choked out, and he sat up sharply to look fully at his brother — his baby brother. Pain shot through his ribs, and he bit back another hiss. Jason picked up on it, and he pushed Dick gently back onto the couch.
“Yeah.”
“I thought—” he said instead of asking Jason how. He turned away to cough again and then as his body shifted to look at Jason again, he caught sight of the helmet— “Red Hood,” It clicked in his brain and his throat went dry. “You’re Red Hood.”
Jason went silent, more silent than before, and then he just nodded. “Yeah,” He still held the bandages in his hand and shoved it in Dick’s general direction; he stood up. “Wrap yourself up and then drink some water.” He turned to walk away.
Dick swallowed, and he couldn’t get the words out. Jason Todd, his sweet baby brother, became the Red Hood. Not to mention he’s alive .
“Can you do it?” he managed to get out, and Jason stopped as he reached the door. Jason turned to face him, and Dick gave him a shaky smile. “It’ll only hurt my ribs more if I strain myself too much and,” He met his brother’s eyes. “You’re here.”
Jason looked for a second as if he was going to walk out of the door, but then he just nodded stiffly and walked back over to Dick. He took the bandages from his brother’s outstretched hand, and unravelled part of it.
“Sit up.” he said a moment later, stretching the bandage out and once Dick was in an adequate enough position, he wrapped the bandage around his torso. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”
Dick hummed, and only winced once as Jason tightened the bandage around his chest. He noted the way Jason hesitated at the wince but carried on when Dick didn’t say anything.
Dick hadn’t even known Jason was alive; Bruce hadn’t told him. Bruce had gone up against Red Hood — numerous times, in fact — and he seemed to keep all information from Dick. Granted, Dick was running around with Slade Wilson and Rose, but this was his brother they were talking about.
“Bruce never told me.”
Jason didn’t look up, but his hands paused slightly on the bandages. “Never told you what?” he asked, and tied the final part of the bandage together. He still didn’t meet Dick’s eyes, and seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else than here — than with Dick.
“That you were alive.” Dick took care to pull his shirt back over his head and onto his chest, then he stared around the safe house. “And he,” He frowned. “He didn’t even tell me you were dead in the first place. Missed your funeral because of him.”
Jason’s head snapped up, and Dick sighed in relief as Jason finally looked back at him. Neither brother said anything for a while, and Dick swallowed carefully.
“Little wing.”
Jason closed his eyes.
“Dickie.”
Dick paused, and then laid back against the couch again. “Bludhaven,” he started, and glanced over at the window. He could still see the smoke in the air, the fires, and he looked at Jason. “How bad is it?”
Jason inhaled sharply, and looked away to avoid Dick’s stare. Then he nodded. “Dick,” he started and mulled over his words. “Really bad,” he said eventually after he couldn’t keep it back anymore.
Dick frowned, and then looked at Jason — really looked at his brother. He frowned at the bandages peeking out under Jason’s turtleneck. “Jay,” he said slowly and moved a hand to gently tug the collar down; Jason didn’t even jerk back.
“What happened to your neck?”
Jason shrugged and leaned back. Dick dropped his hands but he met Jason’s eyes — he wasn’t going to let this go. “Encounter with a bat,” he joked lightly but Dick frowned. Jason sighed and waved a dismissive hand. “Bruce threw a batarang.”
“At you?”
Jason blinked, and rolled his eyes. “ Yes .” Dick moved to sit up again, and Jason tutted before pushing him gently back down again. “You’re going to hurt your ribs if you keep doing that.”
Dick didn’t care, and he sat up again. Jason scowled and just left Dick to his own devices as the older man tugged on his collar again. “I want to see my little brother’s injury, so shut up.”
“You’re the one who was in the radius of a nuclear explosion,” Jason muttered, but he doesn’t object to Dick’s actions. He stayed still as Dick unwrapped the bandage around his neck and breathed out at the gasp from Dick at the sight of it.
“Jay, this is really bad.” Dick said before breaking into another coughing fit. It lasted for at least a minute, and then Jason frowned while wrapping the bandages back over his neck. “Bruce shouldn’t have—”
“Well he did,” Jason tried not to sound annoyed because Dick was just trying to help — or whatever he was trying to do — and then gestured to Dick’s leg. “Besides, if we're talking about something really bad, look at yourself.”
“Broken leg, broken ribs, difficulty breathing and your skin is slightly irritated from the actual explosion.” Jason listed off and then met Dick’s eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t get a concussion.”
“But—”
“Oh and Bruce probably thinks you’re dead,” Jason cut him off and then stood up. “A nuke got dropped, and there’s no sign of their local vigilante?” Jason shrugged. “Not a good sign.”
Dick couldn’t find it in himself to care what Bruce thought right now; especially with what he just found out. He looked at Jason and smiled shakily again.
“Speaking of the nuke,” he started and gestured to the general direction of Bludhaven. “I should go and—”
“No.”
“The people there need my—” he tried again, and figured he could probably help civilians even with a broken leg.
“You’ll get yourself killed, Dickie.” Jason snapped and Dick paused at the sharp tone in Jason’s voice. “You’re not a martyr, stop pretending to be one.” He turned back to the door and only stopped once he reached the doorway.
“Broken bones take six to eight weeks to heal.” Jason said, and glanced at Dick. “Nightwing won’t be seen during that time.”
Dick slumped back against the couch, and glared at Jason as he exited the room.
“This classifies as a kidnapping,” Dick complained as Jason shoved a bowl down the table, and Dick grimaced at the cereal bowl. “It’s been four days, and you won’t even let me call Bat— you won’t even let me call Oracle.”
Jason shrugged, and he placed his own bowl of cereal on the table opposite where Dick.
“Kidnapping,” he started, as if he was reading out of a dictionary. “The action of holding someone captive, typically to obtain a ransom,” he glanced at Dick. “I’m not holding you for ransom.”
Dick just huffed and shoved some of the cereal into his mouth. “You’re keeping me here without my consent.”
“For your own safety,” Jason eyed the makeshift crutches that he’d given Dick the previous day. “Because you’re going to run off to Bludhaven the minute you’re on your own and then get yourself killed.”
“I will not—” Dick started indignantly and stopped as Jason raised his eyebrows.
“You definitely will.”
Dick glared at him, and shoved more cereal into his mouth. “So…” he started, leaning forward against the table. “Red Hood? That’s a new development.” Jason shot him a glare and Dick held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s not what I expected but it suits you.”
“The murder,” Jason muttered sarcastically, and put cereal into his own mouth. “Or the colour?”
“Haha.” Dick deadpanned, shooting Jason an unamused stare. “I mean — all of it? I guess? It’s your,” he shifted in the chair and stared properly at Jason now. “It’s your decision so—”
“It’s my decision,” Jason echoed his brother’s words, and then scraped the chair back as he stood up. Dick gave him a quizzical look and Jason gestured to the kitchen counters. “Forgot to get your painkillers.”
“Right,” Dick frowned as Jason ingeniously excused himself from the conversation that was taking place. “The painkillers.” He didn’t even fully blame Jason for wanting to avoid that conversation — if he’d come back to the situations that Jason had, he’d probably take a similar route to Red Hood.
“I beat the Joker to death.” Dick said, carefully setting his spoon down in the bowl and watching as Jason froze mid getting the pills. “Bruce brought him back,” he said slowly, and despite all the anger he knew Jason would have for the Joker — for Bruce — he needed his baby brother to know that someone was on his side.
“Should’ve shot him then.”
That’s all Jason said before bringing a hand up to his neck and then spun around to stare at Dick. “So, what’d Bruce do to you then?” he half stomped over to Dick, and slammed the pills down next to the glass of water. “Well?”
“Little wing—”
“Where did Bruce hurt you?”
“He didn’t!” Dick cut him off exasperatingly, before Jason could say anything else about it. “Jay, he didn’t. That’s why I said before that Bruce shouldn’t have done it to you.”
Jason paused and then he sighed a small breath of relief before gesturing to the pills. “There’s your painkillers,” he said before slumping back into the seat next to Dick. “And good that he — never hurt you.”
“Not entirely true,” Dick swallowed. “He hurt me, just not about killing the Joker.” Jason’s eyes narrowed and then he waited a split second for Dick to continue before waving his hand impatiently. “I told him that you were,” he shot Jason a glance. “Not quite ready to be Robin and he—”
“He assumed I was blaming him for your death,” Dick said carefully, and his hand moved to trace the outlines of a bruise long faded. “So he punched me. Gauntlet and all.”
Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again. He mulled over his words and brought his hand to tug on his turtleneck collar. He clenched his jaw; there was nothing he could say to make this better— “Fuck Bruce.”
Dick sighed, and watched as Jason flexed his fist open and closed a few times. “Jay,” he said gently, and the younger man just repeated the action. “ Jason. ”
Dick knew Jason — he hoped he still did — and all of his tells. This particular one, while Jason didn’t show it much when he was Robin, had Dick knowing that his little brother had an urge to punch someone.
And Dick knew that someone was definitely Bruce, given the prior conversation.
“ Jason. ”
Jason let his hand fall to his side and then he glanced sideways to meet Dick’s stare. “ Dick.” he mimicked Dick’s tone and then raised an eyebrow. “Bruce would deserve it.”
“I know,” Dick muttered, and there’s nothing he wanted more than to punch Bruce right now — for what he did to Jason. “He would, but I can’t let you.” He plastered a fake grin on his face. “Besides, who would keep me from running off to Bludhaven?”
Jason rolled his eyes, and gestured back to Dick’s cereal. ”Eat your breakfast,” he said and that seemed like the end of their previous conversation until Jason coughed — “You can call Oracle tonight.”
Dick’s grin was so sincere, and Jason stared down into his cereal bowl to prevent the smile from being contagious. “Thank you, little wing,” He said softly and then because he felt he needed to — “I missed you.”
Jason paused; Dick doesn’t think he’s going to get an answer.
“I missed you too.” Jason said a moment later and Dick nodded in acknowledgement. The younger boy then gestured to the untouched painkillers. “Take your painkillers.” He met Dick’s eyes. “Please.”
Dick blinked, and then scooped up the pills before popping them in his mouth and washing it down with a glass of water. When he was finished, he set the glass down and smiled warmly at Jason. “Done.”
“I really, really, missed you.” Dick whispered, and Jason only hummed in response. “You’ve got to say it back, Little wing, or my heart will break.” He said half jokingly and leaned forward across the table.
“You’re annoying,” Jason grumbled, and Dick waited. Jason rolled his eyes, and sent a half soft smile in Dick’s direction. “I missed you too, Dickie.”
“My heart isn’t broken!” Dick grinned and he leaned back in the chair, then he winced slightly as he raised his arm a little too high. Jason let out a long sigh, shaking his head with an amused smile.
“Oracle, hey— hey, Barbara ,” Dick held the phone to his ear, and glanced at where Jason was sitting on the armchair parallel to him. “No, I’m fine, no , it’s not a kidnapping—”
He shot Jason a look at that and his brother had the audacity to just shrug with a grin.
“No, no, don’t tell Bruce?” he said quickly, and Jason sat up cautiously. “I just need time to get back on my feet,” he paused to let Barbara speak, and Jason waited patiently to get the contents of the conversation. “Bruce is not stepping foot in Bludhaven — I’ll call the — uh, the Titans—”
“Babs listen to me, do not tell Bruce.”
They talked for at least a few more minutes, and Dick slumped back on the couch with a sigh of relief. “You’re the best, Barbara. I owe you,” he gave a thumbs up in Jason’s direction and the younger boy nodded. “ Yes , I’m going to call Wally — when I can.”
She ended the call, and Dick placed the phone next to him on the couch. Jason opened his mouth but Dick just shushed him, and then shifted his uninjured leg on the couch.
“She’s not going to tell Bruce.” Dick started. Even though he hadn’t told Barbara had originally been kidnapped by the Red Hood, he had called her on Jason’s phone — a phone she could easily trace. “About this — you and me, I told her to keep him out of Bludhaven.”
Jason nodded, and he breathed a shaky sigh of relief before bringing a hand to tug on the collar of his turtleneck again. “Thank you, Dick.” Jason said, barely above a whisper. “And thank goodness for Barbara Gordon.”
“She’d love to see you again—”
“One reunion at a time, Dick.” Jason cut him off instantly, and the older man raised his hands placatingly. “But — I’ll get to it. I’d like to see her too.”
“I know, Little wing.”