Chapter Text
Donna was back. They were nearly done with the mission, Dick had high hopes they would be home by sundown, and most importantly Donna was back.
Dick couldn’t keep the grin off his face, even as they worked out the last of the logistics, tied up the last loose ends. It had been too long since the last time they’d fought side by side, but it didn’t feel like it, as effortless as it always was. God. Not only was he going home tonight, hopefully back on early enough that Jason would be awake, but Donna was here.
Jason and her could never, ever meet. Just the thought sent a shiver down Dick’s spine. If they ever allied forces against him, he was done for. He would not stand a chance against his little brother and his sister together.
They would also be the death of Bruce, which, to Dick, was a worthy enough cause for his demise. Maybe after the weekend, with the titans back on earth and not leaving for a while, he’d bring Jason around to the tower, have him meet his friends. As nightingale, sure, like he’d been asking for a while, but also just as his little brother, so his friends could put a face to the name.
Dick was positively bouncing the entire day, to the amusement of the titans. Not that he usually wasn't, but it had to be more than usual for them to shoot glances his way, saying nothing, but trying to hide their smiles.
Sue him.
They got down to Earth in the evening. Not even night yet! I’d be a bit short to make the trip back to Jason, but Dick can get there early in the morning, if he gets going fast.
He stayed long enough to see Terry wrap Donna in his arms, holding on tight enough Dick was sure it would have broken bones if she hadn’t been an Amazon. He stayed long enough for Gar to complain about Danny – again, it was a little funny to see how annoyed he got with the kid.
Said kid who turned to Dick, ignoring Gar entirely.
Terry put a hand on his shoulder, but Danny brushed him off. Terry got a pinched look on his face. “Maybe now’s not–”
Danny rolled his eyes. “They’ve gotta find out some time.”
Dick nodded at him. “What’s up?”
“I’m not entirely sure, you know how Batman is,” Danny started, hands in pockets. Yes, Dick knew how batman was, that was most of the reason why he’d been in space for the past month. “But I think Jason Todd’s dead.”
Dick’s smile froze in place. As did the rest of his body, as he found himself standing eerily still, only breathing while he tried to process the words.
Then, almost on autopilot, he headed straight for the computer.
Bruce wouldn’t answer. If this was true, Bruce would ignore him to the best of his abilities until he couldn’t, avoiding Dick like he did every single time he did something that pissed Dick off so he wouldn’t face the consequences of his actions. And if it wasn’t, well, Bruce wasn’t exactly great at replying on his best of days.
Kori put a hand on his shoulder, floating a couple of feet away. “Dick?”
He shook his head and slid into the seat. “Bruce won’t answer,” he said as an explanation. “But he’ll have written it down.” He was nothing if not diligent in his reports. And something like Nightingale’s death was definitely report-worthy.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Kori asked. “There could be a mistake.”
Dick hoped it was a mistake. Hoped it was some misunderstanding that he could yell at Bruce at for, hell, he hoped it was an undercover mission or something.
He passed a hand through his hair and closed his eyes just long enough to breathe. “I’ve got to find out.”
His hands were shaking as he looked for Nightingale.
He stopped breathing when he opened the page.
Status: unknown.
That– that wasn’t a death. Not yet. If Jason had been kidnapped, if he’d been lost, Bruce would still– he’d still mark it as unknown. Just in case.
He could hear his teammates talk, mostly relieved, and paid them no mind.
Dick logged out of his account, and into Bruce’s.
He wasn’t sure his father knew that he still had access to that. He’d jotted down the passwords a few years ago, when he was still robin, and they’d never been changed. He didn't use it, much, not when his own credentials would get him into everything, bar a couple of exceptions.
He couldn’t afford Jason to be an exception.
Dick typed in the password. He looked for Nightingale’s name again.
He heard Raven gasp a little before he saw the words.
Dick’s blood ran cold. He pushed himself away from the desk and the screen, the chair falling backwards and to the floor, the sound deafening in the silence that had fallen into the room.
This isn’t real.
It wouldn’t be the first time they’d dealt with mind manipulation. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had ‘died’ only for them to come back. It wouldn’t be the first time, and there was no reason for Jason to be the exception.
Dick stood in the middle of the room, eyes wide, because Jason couldn't be the exception. He wasn't– he didn’t know how Jason– He couldn't. Bruce wouldn't have let that happen, he promised, he promised Dick that Jason would be safe if he decided to be a vigilante. Bruce was a lot of things, but he didn’t– he wouldn’t have broken a promise like that.
His hand went through his hair, tugging hard at the strands. He needed to– he needed to think about this, Jason couldn't be dead. No way. No way.
All he could see was the image of his little brother – fifteen he was fifteen – shot in the forehead in an alleyway, or his neck at an unnatural angle at the feet of one of Jason’s towers. All he could think of was that time Jason had gotten– he’d just gotten cut by some glass, it only needed a couple of stitches, but he’d been–
Shit. Fuck!
The keyboard hit the wall hard enough for the keys to fly off.
Dick was standing, in the middle of the room, his teammates silent around him. Kori was hovering near the door, and Donna looked like she was just keeping herself from reaching out, and he deflated, his throat tightening.
His fists unclenched. The small cuts on his palms from his fingernails stung.
He needed to call home. He needed to hear– he needed to hear Bruce say it, he needed– to check. To know for sure.
“He knew the risks,” Danny said. “He chose this life, he knew what he was getting into.”
Then Dick’s arm was over his throat, and his eyes were wide as he gasped for air. “Shut the fuck up.”
Jason hadn’t chosen shit. He’d chosen to help, he’d chosen to try to make the world a better place, he hadn’t signed up for this. Dick– Dick knew him, and Jason didn’t choose to die. God. Fuck, Jason was– he was fifteen, and he wanted to go to college to study literature, or whatever he put his mind to when he got there he didn't–
Bruce promised he’d be safe.
Kori put her hand on his and Dick abruptly let Danny go. The kid fell to the floor, still wide-eyed, and gasping for air.
Shit. Shit, he couldn't just– Danny was okay, he was, his lips weren't blue and he was conscious. He couldn't do this.
“I need to–”
He raised his hand and aborted the gesture, making an awkward half fist. He turned and walked away, raising that same hand again when Kori tried to follow him. He couldn’t do this. He couldn't– he needed a moment.
Gather himself. Breathe. Deal with it like he should already be dealing with it.
He slammed the door to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, putting his head between his knees and his fingers digging into his scalp. Fuck. Jason. Jason.
He couldn’t remember if he’d hugged him goodbye. Dick, he always tried to, always tugged Jason closed and told him he loved him, but there was a time– they fought about something, Dick couldn’t remember what, and Jason had pushed him away. Dick called him a brat, and Jason had stuck his tongue out.
He sent a text. Dick always sent a goodnight text, an ‘I love you’ before he turned in for the night, but it. It wasn’t the same as hearing it, in words, in person.
Dick fished his phone out of his pocket with shaking fingers, opening their text conversation. There. There it was, from just the night before, sent and received but never read. Jason was the only person who texted him, with memes or rants, or whatever he–
He couldn’t remember if he said he loved him the last time they saw each other. The last–
His chest hurt. He’d been shot, and he’d taken blows hard enough to break bones, but all of that had been nothing compared with how it felt now, getting tighter and tighter every time he breathed. He needed to breathe, how many times had he walked himself or others through this, how many–
Dick licked his lips and came away with the taste of salt on his lips.
He breathed.
The rest of his mind was blank. Entirely, as much as he could get it anyway, and he breathed. He stared ahead, on the little patch of floor between his feet, the darker spot on the wood right next to his left big toe. He knew how to do this, the breathing exercises coming through muscle memory alone, through the routine he’d put himself through.
When the floor wasn’t enough to think about anymore, panic climbing back up Dick’s throat, he hummed to himself, some nonsensical melody he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before just to– just to have something to do, something to hear that wasn’t the silence of his room.
Someone knocked on his door, and Dick’s head snapped up.
His neck hurt. So did his back and his hands, after being stuck in that same, tense position for what had to be– too long.
“Come in,” he said. God, his voice was shot.
Dick had been expecting Kori or Donna, maybe Wally or Roy. Instead, in the doorway, looking exhausted, was Superman.
Pressure built behind Dick’s eyes without his consent. Before he could fully think about what he was doing, he flung himself at Clark’s chest, letting him wrap him in a tight hug, resting his chin on top of Dick’s head. He wasn't– Dick laughed a little, because he wasn’t even that short, Clark just–
He wasn't entirely sure what did it, if it was just the careful peace in his room being broken, or if it was Clark being there, like he was back then, when Dick thought he had no one again. Dick let go.
Jason was gone. He’d come home, and his little brother– Jason wouldn’t be there. Dick was ready to bet there were math worksheets in there that would never get finished, and a halfway read book on his bedside table. They hadn’t–
Dick promised they’d try every flavor from the ice cream shop. He’d never– he wouldn't hold his promise.
Bruce was in Jason. He hadn’t– he hadn't even called.
Jason was. Dead.
Bruce hadn’t even called.