A/N: The comment about Jason’s age—I see Dick as twenty-five, Jason twenty, and Tim seventeen.
“Preservation”
Chapter Four
Now
The raven hair disheveled by the tanned hand almost faltered Batman in mid-step. Even the pose—the knees hitched up to the chest with his face hidden under the strands of silken hair—would have been enough for Batman to turn and leave. It had been the reason he avoided the cell for the last however many months. He didn’t want to see this boy, the one who looked exactly like his own son did before meeting Sean Madison.
His fury mixed with his regret and sorrow, and Batman feared what he would do—until the green eyes, the only part of the genetic structure Franklin Madison couldn’t duplicate, peered up at him. Only then did Batman have no problem striding up to the boy and snatching him by the orange jumpsuit.
“Wuh-wuh-what are you doing?” the Bostonian accent, round and crisp, flowed into Batman’s ears now that the façade was dropped, and even as the boy struggled against the death grip, Batman thrust him against the metal wall of the cell.
“Three boys with raven hair were found last night maimed and murdered in Metropolis. You’re going to tell him everything you know about them and their deaths.”
The fearful look upon Sean’s face was an expression Batman had never seen on Dick’s face—cowardice. No matter what, his son never backed down and never let others see his fear to the point where he was weak. It made what Batman needed to do so much easier.
“No answer?”
“I—I—I don’t…I can’t…I didn’t really—”
Sean’s head snapped back against the cell wall, and Batman smirked at the blood upon his gloved knuckles. “One.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt—really, I am,” Barbara said as number sixty-six pounded the once immaculate flesh.
“What is it, Oracle?” Batman demanded, his voice as firm as ever. It had to be to disassociate the boy’s face from his true identity.
Sean took the time to squirm and whine, and Batman slammed the boy in the face once more.
It wasn’t Dick.
“Sixty-seven.”
Desperation colored Oracle’s voice. “I just got the papers back from the DNA scans you sent me earlier. Those bodies—Bruce, each one had a DNA matching members of the Wonder Boys Club—Former, Current, and Back from the Dead.”
If Bruce’s heart kept stopping, eventually it wouldn’t restart. He dropped the boy onto the ground and rushed out of the cell, hitting his JLA comm. unit as he went. “This is an All-Call Alert.”
Sixteen Hours Earlier
There were perks to not having a distinguishing face anymore. Bruce Wayne and Donald Trump—everyone knew, and by extension, many knew the latter’s “heir apparent’s” face. It amused Dick far more how many didn’t, but on those rare occasions, especially when he was dating Kory, he had his picture in People, Star, and Okay magazines. Even after they broke up, the magazines followed him to show off the Wayne Heir’s bachelorhood.
So, of course, Dick Grayson couldn’t sneek into Arkham, put on an orderly’s suit, and get away with nothing more than a, “Hey, you new?”
The biological son of Ra’s al Ghul, on the other hand, could.
“I still remember the first time I was here,” Dick said, bending down to examine the burned bed and sheets. “Scared the Hell out of me. Nothing’s really changed, I guess.”
“Except that you now owe me ten dollars.”
“Dammit!”
“Make that fifteen,” Alfred’s exasperatedly fond voice called over the comm. unit. “Prey tell, Master Richard. What brings you to the den of the vile and at this time in the morning? Surely I thought by eight A.M. you would be sound asleep.”
“Couldn’t. Blame the Scarecrow’s fear toxin and realities too cruel for fantasy.” Standing, Dick let out a sigh and surveyed the blown out wall of the small cell. “And to answer the former question—Jason. He’s escaped Arkham, and I have a feeling he’s in danger.”
“A feeling, sir?”
“Okay, call it a really good hunch. You’re sure Tim’s safe and sound?”
“For the moment, he is attempting to ‘smash’ your record on the simulator. He believes it can be done before school begins.”
“That makes one of us.”
“That makes two of us.”
Dick paused and blinked. “Ouch.”
“I only attempt to bring you out of that nefarious place, and if you believe someone went after Master Jason and you believe will also target Master Timothy—”
“Then you see the Robin connection, too.” Dick let out a growling exhale. “By the way, I think the kid can do it, too.”
The cell was too perfect of a crime. The blown out wall—which also took out the walls of the Scarecrow’s and Zsasz’s cells— was damaged with charges, and nothing was left for him to check for prints. The debris littered about the floor—what was left of the cement and metal—wasn’t moved by any means as if the people stepped over every last crumble. No weapons or evidence were left behind, not even a hair of Jason’s, but the lack of evidence revealed more.
Ninjas. Had to be ninjas.
“Crap.” He hated being right.
Dick heard the amused smile in the valet’s voice. “Thank you for your consideration, Master Richard. May I inquire as to what has caused you such vexation?”
Giving up, Dick slammed his hands against his white suit before he turned and stopped. He slowly rotated on his heel to see the vague smudge on the wall’s jagged concrete. Blood. He peered around the cell and let out a low whistle. Scuff marks blemished the white walls, and though Dick didn’t visit Jason as often as Bruce—okay, never—he knew scuff marks shouldn’t have been there. If Jason was violent, the doctors would have ordered a straight jacket. He had fought, and if he was a son of the Bat, then he probably won.
“Shit…”
“Master Richard, does your work at that fine establishment actually pay enough for you to pay your debt to society?”
Dick blew up his bangs. “Alfred, I think Jason escaped and not with the ninjas.”
“What makes you believe that, sir?”
“Because I read Gordon’s file. One person was found dead, his clothing changed into Jason’s. Jason killed one of the ninjas, not an orderly, and took his clothes.”
Alfred’s voice lightened, and Dick thought he heard the searing of a frying pan. “Ninjas, you say now?”
“Hey, they’re fun at parties but not at insane asylums. But if Jason’s not with Talia’s group, then…where would he go? What would he do?”
“Perhaps, Master Dick, it would wise to think of what you would do if you were in Master Jason’s situation.”
Dick rubbed his chin slowly. “You mean if I was trained by Batman, killed, thought to be betrayed by my adopted father, became a murdering maniac, and then escaped from the prison my family put me in it, what would my next move be?” A gasp shot from his throat. “Oh, God.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
“I’d go home, get supplies, and then go after the person who tried to kill me—a second time.” Dick shed his uniform as he jumped through the burned-out hole and dashed in the direction he’d stashed his bike. “Alfred, get down to the Batcave. I think Tim may have an uninvited visitor.”
Fifteen
Hours and Fifty-Six Minutes Earlier
“Grayson, eat my numbers…”
Tim muttered as he pulled back on the throttle and gunned the Batplane’s engine to a grisly roar. He felt the
acceleration, the thrill, the raw adrenaline pump through his veins as he took
control of the jet and went swirling in a death dive that would have killed
many a fighter pilot but not a son of the Bat. He pulled up at the last moment,
and his body shook from the lost of the g’s that had pressed upon him.
Of course, with all the noise of piloting the plane, coupled with the helmet and gas mask—the simulator was as close to the real thing as could be—he missed the footsteps coming down the stairs. He missed the kick into the punching bag, and he missed the person standing just outside his simulator for this exact moment.
“Yes!” The device clicked off, and a new high score overtook the old one. Of course, Tim avoided the thought that Dick was two years younger when he made that score but no matter. He still had beaten his older brother, and he’d rub it in Dick’s face when he came home.
The simulator opened to allow his exit, and as he stood and turned, he felt the person’s presence prickle at the edge of his consciousness and took a defensive position. As he whirled his leg to connect, his “visitor” snatched his ankle and trapped it beneath its armpit. With a simple twist by the visitor, he was on the floor and owing.
“You need more practice. Good thing I’m here.”
Tim’s leg dropped to the floor, and he let out a tiny sigh of relief. “Cass! God! Don’t do that. You scared me.”
“Thought I was Dick to ream you out about your scores?” She offered him a hand up, which he accepted.
“No, I—I dunno. I just didn’t expect anyone there waiting for me, I guess.”
“Timothy! Timothy, are you here?” a startling voice called from the stairs.
Tim and Cassandra traded confused looks—Not only did Alfred call him questionably scared, but he also forgot the “Master”—and Tim peeked his head around the simulator.
“Hey, Alfie. Problem?”
The older man lost his immediate worry, though he spared certain glances about the cave. “I just thought it would be best for you to eat breakfast. Can’t have a good start to the day if you don’t—” Even more than before, he visibly relaxed when he spotted Cassandra. “Ah, Mistress Cassandra. Would you like a spot of breakfast for yourself?”
“What’s the matter, Alfred?” Tim said, looking between Cassandra and the older man. “You didn’t come running down here just tell us about the nutritious qualities of breakfast, did you?”
Cassandra’s head snapped toward the computer and then to the weaponry room. Her sharp eyes narrowed. “Someone was here.”
“No, they weren’t. I’m been down here since six o’clock,” Tim disputed. “I think I would’ve—”
“But you say was, Mistress Cassandra, not is,” Alfred asked with a cautious glance about the cave. “The person has come and gone?”
Without a word, Cassandra headed off toward the weaponry room, leaving Tim to turn to Alfred. “Who was supposed to be here?”
“Master Dick believed there was a chance Master Jason would want to pay us an impromptu visit. He asked me to bring you upstairs just in case.”
Tim growled, “You know, I lose to him one time, and all of a sudden, I can’t—” The roar of a motorcycle engine tore through the caverns of the Batcave, prompting Tim to disappear into the weaponry room with a fleeting, “Alfred, get up stairs!”
“I will most assuredly not,” Alfred upheld and waited with bated breath.
He rushed toward the Crays to signal Bruce just in case of a fight, just as Tim entered the central part of the cave with his staff and Cassandra in tow. The two readied for battle without their costumes—there just wasn’t time—when the motorcycle came into view and screeched to a halt. The driver pulled off his helmet and cocked an eyebrow.
“Thanks for the warm welcome, guys.”
“Dick!” Tim let out a noticeable sigh and leaned against his staff. “You couldn’t have called first?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He shed his trench coat and draped it over his bike before smirking at Cassandra.
“Here to kick Tim’s ass?” He tasseled both teens’ hair as he passed between them.
“No, I’m here to kick both of yours.”
Dick stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Come again?”
Cassandra grinned at him. “Bruce said to duel you both.”
“I’ll take a rain check, thanks.” He walked to the computer and patted Alfred’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming down. Any word yet?”
“Mistress Cassandra says Master Jason has already come,” the valet offered.
Cassandra nodded. “Yes. There are batarangs missing as well as one of the practice Kevlar suits.”
Tim collapsed his staff. “It’s not like Jason not to say hi.”
“Be happy he didn’t,” Dick admonished. He tried his best not to look as worried as he felt. He couldn’t let the junior sidekicks see him sweat. It just wasn’t done. “I don’t want to be washing your blood off the walls again. By the way, you’re calling in sick to school today.”
Tim’s eyes immediately lit up. “Really? Sweet!”
“Not sweet.” A finger pointed. “I need you on the Crays. See if Jason looked up anything. My guess is he’ll go after Talia, return the favor.”
“What favor?” Cassandra asked.
“Apparently, she was the one who broke Jason out of Arkham.”
“So, why would he want to kill her for such a generous gift?” Alfred asked.
“Because she actually wanted to kill him.”
Silence engulfed the room, and Dick used it to stand and make his way toward the stairs.
“Wait.” Tim fell into the seat and whirled to the computer. “Why would Talia want to kill Jason? She was the one who gave him his mind back after he came back from the dead.”
Dick paused. How much should he actually tell Tim without worrying the kid? How much did he have the right to hold from the boy? Did he want Tim to know his life was possibly in danger, that at any moment another barrel of ninjas would be opened? Talia had made him a promise, but he really didn’t expect her to keep it, especially if she had gone after Jason.
Best to keep Tim in the dark until he knew for sure just what was going on, so he flashed his characteristic wide smile. “Who knows what Talia really wants, Tim? Crazy people hardly know what they want, anyway.”
“Insane,” Tim corrected.
“And just the kinda girl Dad likes.”
Seven Hours and Thirty
Minutes Earlier
Why did shifts have to be eight hours? And why, oh, why did criminals say the same stories over and over? And why did he have to know many of them were false? No one named Jimmy the Hammer Harrison ever landed a punch on Batman, and Dick certainly wasn’t shot by a guy with the nickname “Friskya.”
Dick let out another exasperated exhale and kept his head down. He only had another hour or so before his shift ended, and then he wouldn’t hear it again until eleven tomorrow.
“Assholes, the lot of them,” a familiar voice said as his next customer dropped to a stool, and Dick wanted not to look up, wanted not to hear the order, “Whiskey,” wanted not to know the identity of the person or his last thousand sins.
Narrowing his eyes, Dick glared at the black-haired younger man and cocked a half -smirk. “May I see some I.D.?”
Jason sent him a cocky grin. “What? You don’t believe I’m overage?”
“I know you’re not overage, but the state says I have to card you until you reach twenty-seven.”
“And just what does the state say about vigilantism?”
“Probably less than what it says about murder,” Dick said, slamming down a drink. “What are you doing here, Jason?”
“Oh, can’t I come and see my big brother once and awhile?” He took a sip and brought it away. “Dude, that is totally whacked. Tonic water. Really?”
“Be happy I didn’t give you a Shirley Temple.” Dick leaned forward and whispered over the sound of the TV. “Your life might be in danger.”
“Aw, and you’re worried about me?”
“Concerned and don’t push your luck.”
Jason lifted his drink as if to toast Dick and took another sip. “And here I remember you saying we weren’t brothers.”
Dick’s eyes remained hard and unrelenting, and he began to wipe down the bar. “And I remember asking you what you’re doing here.”
“Sidestepping a question. So ‘Dad’ of you, and you call him that now, don’t you? Finally got everything in a nice little place.” Jason snorted a laugh. “Pathetic.”
“Says the killer.”
“Back at you.”
Was it always this frustrating talking to Jason? He used to love spending time with this kid, didn’t he?
“But,” Jason let out a sigh and lifted up his glass for another drink, “I didn’t come here to fight. Fancy that. I actually came here to see if you want to team up.”
Dick refilled it with coke. “Sorry. I don’t work with those who have done time in Arkham.”
“Don’t make me give you examples.”
Why was he still listening? “You have a minute.”
“A whole minute? Wow. Then what? You’re going to start a bar fight? Okay, but I get Betty over there.”
Dick gagged. At the very end of the bar, Bette Kane sat, nursing a drink his boss must have pulled. When did she—how did she—he was starting to like having a different face, which was just wrong.
Jason stole his attention with a hiss. “Look, Dickie—or is it really Freddy here?—here’s the deal. Talia wants you dead, too, and that other kid. Why, I don’t know.”
Dick wished he didn’t.
“But whatever it is, I’m not just going to let her do it. So, I figure, you and me go, take her out, and then we go our separate ways.”
“So, pretty much, you want to make me a killer, too?”
“I thought we already established you are one, but yeah, pretty much. Two-for-two. We get rid of the person who wants to kill us, and I take you down a peg in Daddy’s book.”
Jason usually wasn’t this forthright, Dick knew, but he forwent the obvious come-on for a fight by just grabbing a beer bottle and snapping off the top. Oh, and by taking a long swig. “Jason, putting aside the obvious lack of morality in your scheme, I can’t. Talia is Damian’s mother.”
Jason furled an eyebrow and reached for the bottle. “Damian?”
“Oh, that’s right. You have no freakin’ idea. See, this is what happens when you get kicked out of the club.” Dick laughed and guzzled again. “Bruce has a biological son. Damian. Talia’s the mother.”
Anger contorted Jason’s face into an ugly scowl, and he leaned forward on his arms. “Which is why she’s trying to off us, huh? Well, that just changes the game, doesn’t it? Wanna do the kid, too?”
There was just something fundamentally wrong with Jason. “I have one quick question. How does it feel to be insane? Must be frustrating.”
“As hell because I’m the only sane lot of you all.”
“Yeah, and I’m sure you believe that, too.”
“I didn’t come here to be insulted.” Standing, Jason dipped a hand into his pocket, and Dick doubted it was for money. “I actually came here hoping we could do something together.”
Dick’s face remained ever stern. “And to bring me to the darker side. It must be lonely being the only one over there.”
“Not as lonely as being dead.”
Dick ducked as Jason pulled the gun, and blasts shattered the bottles behind the bar. Even as the glass showered upon his head and shoulders, he blinked to grab the jumping soda squirter and counted. He waited until the bullets stopped, pulled the squirter about the edge of the bar, not the top. Like a pro, Jason held another gun, waiting for Dick to jump up, but he didn’t expect the attack from the side. As soon as the cold seltzer hit his face, Jason flinched and tried to wipe his eyes, but Dick’s boss, a rather agile and spry man, leapt over the counter and slammed his fist into Jason’s face. By the time Jason turned, Dick was already up and moving, but so was the younger man. Jason allowed his body to flow with the momentum, and he rolled upon the floor before rising just before the door.
A cocky smirk etched onto his face. “It must be lonely being the fourth wheel in Dad’s new family, huh? When you finally see the truth, come looking for me. I’ll be here.”
Dick rushed out of the bar, hoping to catch the boy, but like he thought, Jason was nowhere to be seen on the Old Gotham streets. Damn kid. Did he have to be fully trained by Batman?
Sighing, Dick reentered the bar, only to be ambushed by his boss.
“Hey, Freddy. You know that guy?”
Dick nodded and snatched the broom off the wall. “I used to.”
“Oh. In that case, you’re fired—after you clean up.”
Five Hours and Four
Minutes Earlier
“…Bruce?”
The city
didn’t gleam during the daytime hours.
“Bruce, you okay?”
Dirty and dilapidated.
“Bruce, answer me!”
But filled with hope.
“Mr. Wayne!”
Home.
Bruce
blinked and turned away from his office’s view of
Lucius let out a sigh and ventured a hand upon Bruce’s
tense shoulder. “Are you all right, Bruce? I was talking to you for twenty
minutes, and you never even turned from the window.”
“I’m fine. Thank you for caring.”
He once more looked over the toiling city. “I guess the view just caught up
with me.”
“The view? Of
“Of the future.” His stern eyes passed judgment on each and
every one of the people passing below, granting them safe passage to their
hardworking lives. “
“Bruce…are
we talking about
Bruce’s hands touched the glass,
pressing lightly as not to smudge it. “I know I have never been the perfect
guardian, but I always thought, I always hoped
that if I gave my all to this work, that Fate would at least spare
He allowed
his hands to drop slowly and met Lucius’s rapt
attention. “I’m sorry. I just—sometimes I wonder if I’ve done the right things,
made the right choices. Would
A kind smile edged onto Lucius’s mouth as he stood and patted Bruce on the shoulder. “Bruce, asking what-ifs and could-haves doesn’t change what is. You did the best with what you had.”
“It wasn’t good enough.”
“Then you’ll try harder. You won’t
give up.
“But I couldn’t protect it.”
“
Bruce only hoped Lucius was right, even though he wasn’t so sure himself.
A beep sounded from his intercom. A
smack later: “
“Ooh, sorry. I can hack into the Pentagon for you but reworking your schedule? Not my thing,” Barbara Gordon laughed, though it was dry, empty in execution. In her voice he heard the wake of tears.
Bruce narrowed his eyes. “Did you find the information?”
“The DNA match to those bodies hasn’t come up anywhere, and I can’t find anything about the possibility of three boys’ abduction. They must have been taken separately and over time. I’ll keep on the DNA, though. See if I can finally get a match.”
“Then why the—”
“One-oh-four. I got the final count.”
“Good.” A hint of a smirk edged into his frown. “I’m going to the satellite.”
Two Hours and
Forty-Three Minutes Earlier
*sniffle* “…so, that’s Dinah, Cassandra, Helena, Zinda—”
“
Barbara let out a smug laugh. “What’s the matter, FBW? Don’t like the fact that one of my bridesmaids is a former one-night stand?”
Nightwing cringed and fidgeted uncomfortably on the edge of the rooftop, the cold infiltrating his trench coat. “Well, uh…kinda. Yeah. That, and y’know…Batman doesn’t really know. You know she’s going to say something, and then—”
“Perhaps you should tell Daddy before the wedding.”
“You do want to marry me, right?” Dick swig of his Vitamin Water and grasped a handful of Cheese Doodles. “Because you know, if I tell him, there won’t be a Dick Grayson, let alone a wedding.”
“Please. You’re overreacting.”
“No, I’m not. This is Batman we’re talking about here.”
“Anyway, new topic.” She sniffled again. “You make your final cuts?”
Nightwing shrugged easily but narrowed his eyes upon the
rooftop across the street. Nah, the shadows weren’t big enough to be Jason. Perhaps a cat. “Well, the usual—Wally,
Barbara laughed. “Maybe I’ll just make a list of all the male Titans, and we’ll call them.”
“You’re being facetious.”
Another sniffle. “I’m right.”
“Well, are you sure you’re all right? You sound like you’ve been crying.”
“Nah, I’m just getting a cold,” Barbara snorted a sniffle. “A few days of orange juice and chicken soup, and I’ll be back to normal. Thanks for the concern, honey.”
Nightwing hmphed and resituated himself on the edge of the building. Another lie. What were they trying to keep him out of? “I can come over later. Drop off some of Alfred’s chicken soup. I’d make it myself, but really, I’d just be opening a can.”
“Why not come over now?” She almost sounded like she was pleading. “Seeing another girl?”
“Well, sort of. I finally met up with Talia, or at least, she met up with me. Thanks for your help with that, by the way.”
“Not a problem. I love helping my fiancée hook up with his father’s old girlfriends. So, what’d she say?”
“Some
things I’d like not to repeat, but I have a hunch Jason’s in trouble. He’s
going after her, and he has no idea what he’s up against. I don’t care what he
thinks. So I came to the place where his gauntlet for me started. The
She ignored it. “Why would Jason be going after—”
A teet, teet, teet caught his attention, and Dick bit back a grin. Saved by the teet. “Babs, it’s Tim. I gotta take this. Talk to you later?”
A smirk filled her voice. “Maybe more than just talk…hee!”
Nightwing shook his head with a smile and hit the talk button. “Hey, bro. Got me something?”
“More than something. Look, besides the obvious answers I’m going to give you, someone downloaded some files last night, pretty late, and they used the Crays to hack into my computer to get them. They took my files on Conner’s DNA.”
Dick scrunched his face and rubbed the space between his eyes. “Conner’s Kryptonian DNA was stabilized, right? If Ra’s wanted to learn how to stabilize it for his ‘new’ body—”
“I guess I should be flattered they thought I was an expert.”
“If I can find Talia again, I can ‘ask’ her about it.”
“Well, I have two potential places, actually, and they’re not your normal five-star accommodations, but—”
“Hit me.”
By the times the words exited his mouth, he was already in the middle of a twist over the edge with hand out to catch the fire escape.
“On the lower Eastside—it’s not a reservation, but did you know Westing View Estates was owned by a certain high-society blueblood with the last name ‘Luthor’?”
“In
“It’s not the Plaza, but if you put a few coats of paint in the penthouse with an unnamed resident, you might get an evil headquarters.”
“And the second one?” His bike zoomed out of the alleyway and headed in the direction of the penthouse.
Tim
hesitated. “I think…well, see, it’s like this. I checked into the searches that
you asked me to, and Jason seems to have tapped into Wayne Enterprises and
found out Bruce is actually paying Talia child
support. A few million over the last year, I think. I have the address he sends
it to. It’s in
Nightwng took a minute to digest the information, decided not to, and simply shook his head. “Okay. First things first. Is Cass still there?”
“Hold on…” Tim’s voice grew distance. “Yeah, she’s working out. Why?”
“Tell her to stay in the Batcave, and that goes double for you.”
“Wait. Shouldn’t I take the mailbox and you take the penthouse?”
The impatience of youth. “No. This is Jason and Talia we’re talking about. I want to make sure—”
“Hey, if you wanted to make sure I was a safe, then you wouldn’t allow me to run around with your old name, all right?” Tim combated, his voice tense. “We’re way pass ‘safe’ here.”
Nightwing rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated when the road seemed to veer off into the water. Damn fear gas. “Tim, this isn’t an assault on your abilities, and you and I both know the whole spiel on knowing your limitations. Jason and Talia are way out of both of our leagues, and right now, I don’t want to involve Bruce on this. He’s worried enough about me as it is. Just trust me, all right? Stay in the cave with Cass. I have someone on this.”
Tim never answered, only terminated the connection, and Dick couldn’t honestly say he hadn’t expected that.
Sighing, Dick hit open a new channel. “Hey, Selina…yeah, it’s me. Flying solo tonight. You wouldn’t happen to have anything set up for this evening, would you? I need you to bust on one of Dad’s old girlfriends.”
One Hour and
Twenty-Two Minutes Earlier
It sucked that after four years, Tim still had to prove himself. It sucked that he had to suit up and lie to Alfred, saying Dick wanted him to go to the box, and to ask for zingers for a stakeout. It sucked that Cass saw right through his lie, told him Dick wouldn’t have allowed only him to go, and that she would fight him to keep him safe in the cave if need be.
It sucked that when she went back to beating up a punching bag that he had to take out a knock-out pellet and hold his breath. It sucked ever more so that she actually fell for it.
It just sucked that he disobeyed orders, but y’know, it sucked that Dick just didn’t trust him enough to take on Jason.
Fifty-Three Minutes
Earlier
“Damn.”
When he crashed through the penthouse window, Nightwing expected at least one gunshot, a few ninjas maybe, a trained assassin or two, but not an empty apartment.
“Damn.”
The apartment was just like Tim described. Embedded in the Views, which were known to be filled with drug dealers, gangsters, and whatever else was bad, the penthouse appeared to be straight from Midtown with a fresh coat of paint, white furniture, and an open kitchen with granite countertops. To the left, a hallway led to doors, perhaps bedrooms, perhaps prison cells. Who knew with the Daughter of the Demon? Despite the lack of security and booby traps, the emptiness of the apartment struck Nightwing as eerie. Besides the bare essentials—like the couch and flat screen TV— the place was skeletons and bones.
Nightwing walked forward into the kitchen and saw the paper posted to the refrigerator door.
“Damn.”
“Dear Richard,
I’m sorry to bring you all the way to Eastside; however, you must understand there are others who wish my premature demise. I do wish to keep my promise to you. Thus, I would advise you leave immediately and find Jason.—”
Nightwing turned and dashed toward the broken window in which he entered.
“DAMN!”
“—Thank you for your cooperation. Until New Year, gypsy.—Talia”
He vaulted out the window as the explosion rocked the apartment. The pressure slammed against his body and sent him sprawling through the air, the flames licking the back of his trench coat. His back crashed into a trunk of a tree, and he hissed through his clenched teeth as pain wracked his body. As he thumped to the ground, he growled through clench teeth, “Robin, come in. Has Catwoman engaged yet?”
…
“Robin?”
….
“Damn.”
Forty Minutes Earlier
Selina
stepped back from her perch over the address—a dilapidated store front—and
wondered just why that Talia chick would be here. Her
father was one of the wealthiest and most intelligent masterminds in the world.
Why would she be here, in the
Sighing, she fell into a crouch to wait out Talia or Jason—or to be bored out of her mind. Was this what it meant to be part of the club?
“You shouldn’t be here.”
The voice, dark and tense like his, wafted in her ears from behind, and she hardly raised her head before a hard object slammed into the back of her skull.
Thirty-Nine Minutes
and Twenty-Nine Seconds Earlier
Catwoman’s body would have slipped off the side of the roof if not for the gloved hand that caught it.
From a building above, Robin took in a deep breath and jumped, landing on the roof where Catwoman now lay. He would have stopped Jason, but Dick’s guilt-attempt made him late. You’d think by now his older brother would know seconds mattered in this business.
“Jason.”
The young man dressed in one of the practice suits and a black over jacket appraised him before nodding once. “Pretender.”
“And yet, I’m here to save your life.”
The older man arched an eyebrow and strode forward, placing a golden knuckle ring upon his hand. “Is that so? You know, you should be working with me, not taking that bitch’s side. She’s trying to off us all.”
Robin’s eyes widened. “Wuh—What?”
Jason’s smirk followed suit, and he stopped a few feet away from Robin. “Oh, Dick didn’t tell you, huh? Yeah, apparently, Talia’s trying to kill us kiddies, you know, Bruce’s adopted family. So, once Dick and I are gone, you know who her next target will be.”
Robin gritted his teeth and took a defensive stance with his staff. “That doesn’t matter. Not now. Dick just wanted you to be stopped, and I’m here to stop you.”
“Big words from the current boy wonder. Let’s see if you can back them up this time.”
Before Robin even blinked, Jason was upon him, the older man’s fist positioned to snap his jaw. Robin ducked and dove into a forward roll, out of the reach of the attacker.
Jason smirked and turned with a kick. “Not surprised you’d run from a fight after how I left you last time.”
“Fighting with knuckles?” Robin accepted the attack with his staff and fell to the ground to sweep out Jason’s knees. “That means you need the extra power.”
Jason jumped over the attack but rammed his knee into Robin’s head, sending the boy tumbling to the roof’s floor. “Oh, I don’t need the power. I like to bruise when I’m fighting. It’s like art. My own little symbol in the bottom right corner.”
The stars almost drowned out Robin’s sight, as the pain helped to deflect him from the fight. No! He had to keep focused, needed to keep sight of Jason, but damn, that kick had a bite.
Rolling with the momentum, Robin came to feet in time to deflect the punch aimed at his crimson forehead—when did he start bleeding?—and delivered his own knee to Jason’s groin. When the attacker moaned and held his legs, Robin used the time to whack his staff against Jason’s skull. The twenty-year-old vigilante crumpled to the ground motionless, and Robin let out the gasp he’d been inadvertently held. He blinked once, twice, three times. He’d just taken down Todd.
Ha. Next would be Grayson.
Okay, no way he could beat his older brother yet—at least in the foreseeable future.
Shaking his head, Robin caught sight of Catwoman and rushed to see her condition, only for a hand to grab his cape. A strong tug cut off his air supply, and as his butt smacked into the rooftop and his lungs burned, a boot hit into his gut.
The only problem—he never actually saw it. He just felt the busting of a rib. He never saw the fist either, only tasted the metallic substance washing over his tongue. By the time the knuckles came at him a second time, he pushed up on his knees and lifted his hand to grab. One flick of the wrist later, and a grunted swear seethed through Jason’s lips.
Broken bone for sure. One-for-one.
Robin flipped to a standing position, albeit holding his stomach. No matter what, broken ribs hurt like hell, but he forced himself into a defensive fighting position. Jason kicked, breaking through Robin’s staff. His foot hit the boy’s chest, or so Robin thought. At the same time, a fist slammed into the side of his face.
The wind he’d recovered fled, and as he groaned on the ground, a hand fisted in his hair and pulled up his battered face
“You seriously think you have a chance against me—against me!”
Even bleeding from the corner of his mouth, Robin spat, “Hell yeah.”
Jason growled and moved to punch again when a shot rang out in the night. Robin winced but felt Jason’s rough handling drop, most likely for cover. The shot hadn’t come from their rooftop but the one he’d been watching Jason and Selina on. Robin tried to work his legs underneath him, but they wouldn’t move as fast as he wanted. Only a few seconds went by, but enough for a sniper to reload and—
BANG!
Strong hands grabbed him under the armpits and tugged him effortlessly out of harm’s way. His face slammed into a larger person’s chest as his knees touched the ground, and an arm curled around his back. The chest lifted and fell with heaving breathes, but the smell—Nomex-treated Kevlar, vanilla, and fresh pine—was reassuring.
Nightwing.
“You okay, bro?” his older brother finally asked when Robin had enough strength to raise his head.
He found enough to nod, too.
“Good. I’m going to let you go for two secs, okay? I just have to deal with something.”
“The sniper?”
“Oh, sure. Her, too.”
Robin blinked. “Her?”
As Nightwing winked and launched himself off the roof, Robin relaxed against the small rooftop stair entrance. He glanced around the edge to see the female sniper, and sure enough, there sat Chesire. He flinched when one of her shots ricocheted off a piece of brick from the wall, but at the angle, she wouldn’t be able to hit him. Jason, on the other hand…
A muffled hiss, a well-placed batarang, and grunt, and Chesire was hog-tied on the edge of the roof.
Grunting himself, Robin grounded his top teeth into his bottom and pushed back on the wall for an anchor. Once he finally made it to his feet, he headed over to Catwoman, who seemingly had not been a target of Chesire’s attacks. He checked over her wounds, finding only the head one, as he heard Jason’s shouts and threats resound from the alleyway. A second later, Jason’s lifeless body thudded onto the roof, his wrists and legs bound. Nightwing climbed up the fire escape, his trench coat and mask missing, cuts upon his chest, shoulders, and face.
It wasn’t the first time Nightwing stared him down, but it was the first time he saw Dick this upset, especially without the mask. “How is she?”
“…she’s fine,” Robin reported, flinching at the perfectly mimicked Bat Voice. “Jason just knocked her out.”
“Then get over here.”
Robin’s eyes snapped from Catwoman to Nightwing. “Wuh-What?”
Nightwing’s eyes continued their horrifyingly stringent glare. “Get. Over. Here. Now!”
In all his years as Batman’s partner and Nightwing’s brother, he learned there was one thing you couldn’t mess with: an angered Dick Grayson. He reacted worse than Batman at times; at least Bruce pushed away his emotions. Not Dick—he allowed them to run free.
Grunting through the pain, Robin stood and grimaced as he came within hitting distance. He didn’t worry that Nightwing would pound him senselessly, but still, after what Nightwing did to Jason…
But all that faded from Robin’s mind as Nightwing cupped his shoulders and then drew the teenager into his familiar and secure arms. His lithe hands gently patted down the boy. “You okay, bro? Nothing broken other than some pride and a few orders?”
It took Robin a few seconds to realize Nightwing was sincere before relaxing into the hold and leaning his head into Nightwing’s shoulder. He was fine. Jason was fine, and his big brother was here to take care of the rest. Though he liked being able to handle situations on his own, Robin couldn’t help but like having someone else to rely upon at times. “Yeah, I just… I thought I could... I didn’t—OW!”
“What were you thinking?” Nightwing yelled, and his flat hand smacked the back of Robin’s head, causing the teen to pull away. “What is it going to take to get it through your thick skull? Once in the family, always in the family. Neither Jason nor Damian could ever take you out of it.”
“I know, I know, but—”
“No, you don’t know or else you wouldn’t have been out here tonight. God, Tim! What’s it going to take to get you to see how much you’re loved? Just because you’re not biologically my brother or Bruce’s son doesn’t make you any less a part of our family.”
“Then why did you leave? Why did you care when Jason was adopted, but you weren’t?”
“This isn’t about me!”
“But it’s about us, our so-called family!”
Nightwing growled and ruffled his hair. Tim would have smiled if the situation wasn’t so grave. He was right, and he knew it.
“Look,” Nightwing snarled first, but then his voice softened. “My relationship with Bruce and your relationship with Bruce are two very different circumstances, and you know how Bruce feels about you. You know how I feel about you, which is why the situation is worse than mine. You know we love you, so you’re going to stop right there.”
“But—”
“No! You don’t get a privilege of a ‘but.’ You could’ve been killed tonight, and I can’t let this pass. Not tonight.” He put out an accusatory finger. “You’re grounded.”
“What!”
“This was a repeat performance. Bruce told me what you did after Damian left and now with Jason...” Nightwing shook his head. “No way I’m letting you go for a third time and either get your back broken or your head shot off.”
“But you can’t ground me!”
“Oh, yeah? You wanna bet?” Nightwing paused and then patted Robin’s shoulder with a smirk. “You know what? You’re right. Why don’t I tell Bruce and let him deal with you? You want his punishment or mine?”
Robin gulped. There was no comparison. “Yours.”
“Good call. Then wake Catwoman up. She has to take Jason to the cave.” He lifted up his JLA receiver. “You and I are going into space.”
Nodding, Robin dropped to Catwoman’s while Nightwing went to Jason. A splash of red caught Robin’s attention on Nightwing’s back—a long, grazing crimson line that stretched from Nightwing’s left shoulder to his right hip.
His brother had been grazed with a bullet.
*^*^*
Three Minutes Later
Sean Madison’s blood upon Batman’s knuckles spattered onto the JLA Round Table as the detective leaned forward, his arms holding up his torso like pillars.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” He looked about the members of the League, but his eyes eventually held the empty seat across from him and between Flash and Red Arrow. He quickly looked away. “Superman and I infiltrated a warehouse last night of Lex Luthor’s, hoping to find Dr. Madison. Instead, we found the bodies of three maimed teenage boys.”
As he described the shape they were in, Dinah put a hand over her mouth, while many of the Justice Leaguers gasped. Mari even shed a tear.
“That is not the distressing part. I took DNA samples of each, which Oracle was able to match to three people.” He paused for a moment, his own grief and fear stealing his voice. “Their DNA matched that of Nightwing, Robin, and Jason Todd, who as many of you know was Robin before the current one.”
“But it wasn’t them, right?” Flash asked, jumping to his feet. “I mean, Dick was here last night, and Tim—”
“It wasn’t, but someone was trying to send a message. They want to kill my sons, and I won’t let them,” Batman confirmed, his voice still grating. It kept all his energy just not to tremble with fear, and the Batman did not scare often. “At this moment, however, I simply need to find them. Oracle has repeatedly tried to find Nightwing and Robin, and she can’t reach either with their comm. units—”
“Good thing we’re here, huh?”
The entire room whirled to the door, where an exhausted and thoroughly bedraggled Nightwing stood. His mask was missing, showing the wary lines upon his face, while trench coat was gone, giving way to a torn and bloodied Kevlar suit. Whether the boy had actually shed it or something happened to it, Batman didn’t know.
“Whoa! Dick, what happened to you?” Red Arrow snickered. “Barbara get a little too frisky?”
Nightwing ignored him to come forward. “Jason is currently tied up, but he wasn’t being a good boy, so I placed him in one of the holding cells in the cave. Alfred is watching him with a rifle and was instructed to use excessive force to keep him there. I figured Alfred was better than Tim because we all know Jason has something out for the kid.”
“And Tim?” Batman asked tightly.
“In the hallway.” Dick allowed a tiny, tired smile to grace his face. “By the way, I hope you don’t mind, but I grounded him. I gave him a direct order to stay in the cave, and he disobeyed it to go after Jason and prove his place in our family.”
Batman stood straighter and crossed his arms. “That doesn’t sound like Robin.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t, but then again, neither does Cass on the floor of the cave knocked out by a pellet.”
“I’ll have a talk with him later.”
“Don’t bother. I already did, and I told him I wouldn’t tell you. This way, he doesn’t know you know, and he’ll think we dealt with it. No need for him to get a double-wammy. If something comes of it, I’ll let you know, and you can put the fear of God in him.”
“How did you know you were being hunted?” Batman asked. “Oracle tried your—”
Dick shook his head as he headed toward the door. “I had a really nice conversation with Talia today. Seems Ra’s wants to kill your adopted family, so you will eventually join his little crusade. I figured I should do my big brother duty to make sure all the kiddies were safe. So, now that that’s done, I’m taking Tim, and we’re heading home for a long sleep. I’ve fought the Scarecrow and my own little brother twice, and have been up for more than thirty hours. If you need someone to scout or something equally mundane, my reserve choice would be Power Girl.”
“…Dick?”
Nightwing stopped before the automatic door opened. “Yeah?”
“…thank you.”
A moment. Two moments. Three moments passed before Nightwing whirled. “Where do you come off?”
Batman narrowed his eyes, taken back by the sudden confrontation. “Excuse me?”
“Yeah, I’m that good. I know what you did, but what I don’t know is where you get off no longer trusting me.”
“You haven’t slept since the Scarecrow’s fear toxins—”
“Yeah, I know I’m probably hyped up on them,” Nightwing scoffed, “and yeah, I know my worst fear has always been disappointing you. And yeah, I know I did that when I didn’t finish college and joined the police force, but you know, I’ve tried my damnest since I was eight to make you proud. I think I’ve done a damn good job of at least not embarrassing you, and what do I get for it? You send me on scouting missions and mundane tasks. You don’t even trust me enough to know about my own body.”
“Dr. Madison wasn’t—”
“I went to Francine,” Nightwing combated, his eyes and fists trembling as one.
That simple statement drew the Dark Knight’s cloak shut.
“You tried to make me think I was crazy, that I shouldn’t even trust my own instincts rather than tell me the truth. You even have Barbara lying to me, too, for God’s knows what.” He closed his eyes and turned his back to the group. “Look, I’m not as good as you. I know that, and I accept that because I probably never will be. Hell, no one will probably be, so I do the best I can with who I am. I—I couldn’t beat Deathstroke. Not didn’t but couldn’t, but no one else has besides you on his or her own. Most of the Justice League couldn’t beat him collectively, so the fact that I kept conscious for over ten minutes while fighting him is pretty good on my scale. If that’s the reason you no longer trust me, then that’s your own problem because I think under the circumstances, I’m doing a pretty good job of keeping it together.
“So why the fuck you have so little faith in me is beyond me. I’ve done nothing to give you a reason to doubt me and my abilities, and—” He chucked his JLA comm. onto the table, breaking it into little pieces. “—until you trust me again, I can’t be on this team.”
Nightwing was almost to the door when Batman flipped over his head and impeded his exit. “Wait.”
“Wait? For what?” Dick’s eyes kept fixated, burning, upon Batman’s, and in one movement, he tugged the cowl off to speak with Bruce. “Today, I learned the man whose words I used to worship I can no longer trust, and nothing you can say can change that I can’t believe you.”
He ducked his head and walked about Batman to leave.
*^*^*
Once the doors swung shut, Flash shot to his feet. “Go after him! He can’t just quit the League!”
Bruce shook his head. “No, let him go.”
“What!” Superman gasped, already hovering a few inches over the table to fly after Nightwing. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am…because he just lied to me.”
*^*^*
Showered and bandaged, Dick collapsed into the chair by the Crays and rubbed his face in a massaging motion. His eyes were devoid of emotion as he looked over the entire Batcave, reveling and distressing in its familiarity. Lost in heartache, he jumped when the cup clicked against the mainframe.
Alfred’s gentle smile crossed his face. “Master Jason fell asleep, so I thought you wouldn’t mind me getting you a little something to ease your wariness.”
Dick swiveled to grab the cup and nurse its warmth between his bandaged hands. He sniffed the fragrances of the chocolate and milk, which immediately soothed his frayed nerves. “Thanks for everything, Alfred.”
“Master Richard, may I speak freely?”
“I’ve head of something called ‘Freedom of Speech.’ Give it a whirl.”
A tender hand rested upon his shoulder. “I heard your—shall we say— quarrels with Master Bruce and Master Timothy earlier, and may I say how relieved I am you’ve come home to deal with the issues and did not leave again.”
A sip. “I learned a long time ago that Bruce and I can’t just scream and run away from each other. That leads to years of animosity, cult-trained Bat-Imposters, and you taking a leave of absence.” He gave his head a disgusted shake as if to rid it of the horrible memories. “I figured I’d try something new.”
“For which I am grateful, as I am sure Master Timothy is.”
Dick snorted. “Ask Tim tomorrow morning after we spar.”
“And may I also grant you some insight?” Alfred situated himself on the mainframe before Dick in a relaxed, almost slouching manner and touched the boy’s hiked up knee. “While I do not agree with the Master’s decision to withhold certain facts about your condition, please remember that he is the reason you are still here.”
“What? Because he saved my ass during missions—”
“Ahem. That type of language will not be tolerated and no. You are still here because Master Bruce wished your presence in our lives and persued you when you were willing to run, and he does not forget that, dear child. He now knows your worst fear, and that fear is your future. Because he asked you to stay and fight this unfortunate disease, you will one day meet Dr. Madison again. He does not wish to look into your eyes and know that fear he sees is his doing because of his selfish refusal to allow your light from our lives. And please keep in mind, Richard—” Alfred patted the boy’s shoulder as he maneuvered off the mainframe and walked toward the stairs. “—the latter is Bruce’s worst fear.”
Dick closed his eyes and sipped his drink sparingly before he rotated in the chair ever so slowly to see Jason’s costume in the case.
*^*^*
“Are you sure?” Dinah asked again.
Batman pulled back on his cowl. “It’s the Scarecrow’s fear toxin talking. Once he sleeps, he’ll be in better mental condition.”
Red Arrow yawned and stood. “You better hope so. If not, I don’t care what, I’m going to down there and kicking his ass.”
Flash laughed and shook his head. “Can I watch him kick yours? I’ll even pay.”
Wonder Woman watched the boys, a smile creeping onto her face. After all these years, they truly hadn’t grown up, and she wanted it no other way. She met Batman’s eyes and nodded once. She would do a check just to make sure Earth was fine before they dismissed for the night. However, once she turned on the monitor, she gasped.
“BRUCE!”
*^*^*
Dick leaned against the doorway, making sure Tim was sleeping soundlessly before retiring to his new room. He was happy Tim took his old quarters. In a way, he hoped it soothed the boy and helped to assimilate him into the family.
Sighing, Dick let his hand drop from the door and made his way to the next room. Exhausted beyond anything he’d known before—except maybe during the Blockbuster fiasco—he flopped stomach-down onto his bed and grabbed a pillow.
*^*^*
“What is it, Diana?” Batman asked, coming up to her side.
She never answered. She didn’t have to. The TV broadcast did better than she ever could.
“Breaking news for those who haven’t heard, new evidence has emerged to conclusively prove that philanthropist Bruce Wayne is really the masked vigilante known as the Batman.”
*^*^*
Dick closed his eyes as the red laser light glowed upon his forehead.
To Be Continued…