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Bruce stared at the DNA test until his vision went blurry, confirming his worst fears and wildest hopes. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream. He did nothing.
Alfred sunk into the computer chair beside him, hand pressed to his mouth. “Dear God.”
Jason Todd was alive.
Jason Todd was the man leaving a trail of bodies through Gotham.
A realization struck Bruce. “His seal skin. He doesn’t have it.” Jason couldn’t shift without it. Being a selkie let Jason escape the dangerous Gotham streets after his parents died, let him escape the stresses of Robin, let him be free. And now…
Batman could stop him. It would take a word. One single word...and Gotham would be at peace again. Lives would be saved. All this bloodshed could be over. Bruce looked up and caught Alfred’s knowing gaze. "Master Bruce...it's Jason. Our Jason."
"No." Bruce slowly shook his head, turning off the screens. "Not anymore."
Jason's knees hit the stone rooftop with a crack. His body shook with the strain of trying and failing to resist the command. Sensations crawled over his skin, as if insects covered every inch. Wrong. It felt wrong. It felt…like betrayal he never could've imagined. Didn't even think to imagine.
Looming overhead, seal skin hanging from a clenched fist, was Batman. Furious tears gathered in Jason’s eyes. “Bastard.”
“It didn't have to come to this.” The man he once called ‘dad’ stared down his nose at Jason. As if he never meant anything at all.
“You promised. You promised!” The words came out like a child's sobs. But that's what he was, right? Wasn’t he still the same boy Bruce comforted after nightmares? A child who'd been reassured over and over that he was loved? Was this really all it took to be deemed worthless?
“You also made a vow.” Batman’s voice was emotionless, “Now you'll make a new one. You will not harm an innocent or take a life ever again. No more guns. This senseless brutality ends here.”
The compulsion punched through Jason, doubling him over as he gasped. “Fuck you.” He snarled in useless defiance. Batman knew it too. He stared for a moment longer, like Jason was a bug for crushing, not his son back from the dead and pleading for his love.
“This is for your own good, son.” The words were said with a mockery of kindness before Bruce disappeared into the dark.
Angry tears dripped from Jason’s cheeks as he staggered to his feet and held himself. What did he do now? All of his plans and desires to beat Tim Drake within an inch of his life were out of reach, new shackles yanking his mind back into place like a dog brought to heel.
He knew what he never should’ve done. He never should’ve told Bruce about being a selkie or showed him the skin. He never should’ve come back to this damn city.
No. Jason’s biggest mistake was believing he was loved. Look where that got him. Skinned and gutted by the very hands that once held him. He was scraped hollow inside, terrified, and alone.
So utterly alone.
Dick thought he might rattle apart from his furious trembling. No matter how hard he clenched his hands or crossed his arms, it just wouldn’t stop. It consumed him like an angry hive, nearly overpowering Bruce’s words.
Not that those mattered much. He’d put it together upon returning to Gotham, his own city a smoldering testament of failure on the horizon. Street chatter was that Red Hood’s reign of terror was over. The man hadn’t been seen on the streets over the past two months and the gangs were hunting for revenge. In the Batcave, a crumpled selkie skin sat on a desk.
Dick didn’t even need to speak out loud, Bruce saw it click in his eyes.
So here they were. Dick trying to manage his anger and grief while Bruce lectured about why he violated Jason’s trust, betrayed him in the cruelest way imaginable, and turned him into nothing more than a puppet. Yes, Red Hood had been dropping bodies at an alarming rate and needed to be stopped. He and Dick had their share of fights since he surfaced. But the Red Hood was Jason and Jason…
That was his brother. The little seal pup Dick cradled in the water after a tiring swim lesson. That smiling, sarcastic Robin he flew alongside and bickered with. The child who died in Dick’s family colors, being called by Dick’s beloved nickname. More blood on his weak, unreliable hands.
And this man before him, whose approval Dick lived and breathed for, had come seeking absolution from, was supposed to be their father, their caretaker, their protector .
Dick’s fist was flying before he fully realized it.
The second punch was on purpose.
Jason stuffed his meager belongings into the backpack, making sure he didn’t miss any hidden weapon or ammo cache even if he couldn’t use them anymore. Only a few more minutes before Falcone’s men closed in on him and burned another hideout all too quickly.
He yanked the zippers closed and slung the bag on, tightening the straps in anticipation of a long run and hard landings. Being on constant high alert, unable to meaningfully defend himself against the mobsters who wanted to stuff his head into a duffel bag was exhausting. Knowing Bruce was the one who'd imprisoned him on land and in his own body, was even more taxing.
Honestly, Jason wasn’t sure why he still did it. What was the point? Every day felt bare, his body fighting back like some stranger was shoved in alongside him. But this was all that remained. If he couldn’t have the sea or the family he still dreamt of at night, then he could at least have whatever this life was. One meager amount of control to foolishly cling to.
He’d taken two steps towards the fire escape window when the glass exploded inward. Jason ducked, drawing a gun on useless instinct. His finger hadn’t pulled a trigger in months.
Nightwing perched on the dark windowsill. Blood ringed Dick’s nostrils–a nosebleed that hadn’t quite stopped yet–and a nasty shiner spread around the edges of his domino. Shadows hid any other injuries.
Great. This night was getting shittier and shittier.
“Catch.”
A wad of fabric smacked against his chest and Jason grabbed it on instinct. A sudden shock zapped through him, the hair on his arms rising as a weight fell from him. His seal skin. How? He looked up at Dick, unable to translate the cacophony in his head to words. Even breathing felt easier now. But why was Dick helping him? They were enemies. Dick should be glad he’d been put down and electrocuting him by now.
White lenses stared back. “What Bruce did was wrong. No one deserves to go through that. But if you go back to killing then the next time I see you…” The mer’s threat hung in the air.
“If you can find me.” Jason bared his teeth, clutching the skin to his heart. Dick’s jaw twitched but he stayed silent. He was probably already sick of Jason. Maybe he even regretted this weird vigilante altruism.
“You’ve got company.” The man said dryly before backflipping off the ledge. A distant door crashed open seconds later, the stairwell echoing with running boots.
Jason shrugged on his jacket, sighing in relief as he pulled out a second gun. “Perfect timing.”
He slept in his pelt that night, curled up in a new safehouse not soaked in mob blood. At last his body felt at peace, his own once more. Thanks to Grayson, of all people. Batman’s shining star had gone behind his back. It didn’t make sense.
Did it really matter though? It was incredibly satisfying imagining Bruce being betrayed and feeling even an ounce of Jason’s misery. He rolled over with a smug grin. Serves Bruce right.
Something crunched in the jacket pocket. He dug out a once folded, now crumpled, note with a phone number scrawled on it.
His first instinct was to destroy it. Grab his lighter and burn it to a crisp. But something made him hesitate. Dick left this for him, making their entire interaction earlier more…meaningful? Maybe Dick’s final silent moment wasn’t filled with disgust. Maybe…
A bundle of red, green, and yellow greeted him when he pulled off the box lid. “Really?” Jason looked up to see Dick watching with a crooked smile, holding out a card with his number.
Later. Jason shoved the note back in his pocket. He’d deal with it later. After he swam in the sea at last, gloating the entire time.
Jason never dealt with it. Every time he pulled it out, clicking the lighter on, he couldn’t bring himself to light it. Which turned out to be the best thing considering he was currently bleeding out with so many spots flashing in his vision he couldn’t see his fumbling hands. Sight didn’t matter since he had the number fucking memorized . There wasn't even the luxury of being pissed off about it. Not when he needed help and had no one.
The phone rang, slipping against shaking bloody fingers. Jason leaned against the alley wall, other hand pressed to his bleeding gut. Someone decided to skip bringing a knife to the gun fight and went straight for a sword. At least it was only a slash and not a skewering.
The phone kept ringing. This must be a cruel trick. They wanted him to have hope then take it away, that was the only reason Dick gave him the number. Alone. He was going to die alone again.
The line picked up mid-ring. “Hello?” A pause. “Jay?”
“Dick,” His voice shook and Jason hated how weak it made him sound, how young he felt hearing his brother’s voice, “Dick, I…”
“What’s wrong? Where are you?”
He took a labored breath, vision narrowing to pinpricks, fingers cold as ice despite the hot blood streaming over them, “I need…help, I–”
Jason slumped to the ground, phone clattering on the bloody concrete.
Nausea woke him. HIs stomach curled when he tried opening his eyes. But the sharp, repetitive pains in his abdomen demanded attention. Clamping his mouth shut–and threatening his stomach with all manner of punishments if it also betrayed him–Jason lifted his head.
“Don’t move.” A needle flashed in the light as Dick tugged on the surgical thread leading to the half-closed gash. Beside the extensive medical kit on the unfamiliar tile floor was Jason's neatly folded hoodie. Must be one of Dick’s safehouses. Jason’s were usually one hole in the floor away from being condemned.
“No shit, you really came.” Jason let out a weak laugh. Was Dick pissed? He sounded pissed. But he came anyway. That was…suspicious.
“Fuck. You.” Dick looked up mid-stitch, fury blazing in his eyes, jaw clenched so tight a tooth might crack any moment now. A freshly healed burn on his cheek caught the weak yellow light. Definitely pissed. Also not exactly the reply Jason was expecting. Blood loss still had his head swimming so no witty reply jumped to his lips.
With an exasperated sigh, Dick looked back at the stitches. “I gave you my number months ago. And you waited until you were bleeding out to use it? I thought I was listening to you dying! Counting your damn breaths as Oracle helped me locate you!”
“What was I s’posed to do?” Jason attempted a tiny shrug, “Call you up and gossip?”
“I don't know!” Dick snapped, so close to yelling it put Jason on edge, fingers creeping towards his thigh holster. “I don't fucking know Jason, because you've been–” he cut himself off, closing his eyes and taking steadying breaths. Next time he spoke it was far more controlled. “You could've at least let me know you were alright.”
What for? Jason threw an arm over his face, trying to stop the woozy feeling in his head. And hide. An IV was attached to his other arm, steadily replacing all his lost blood. There was more of the odd tugging sensation as Dick worked in silence, his dark head bowed. The silence was so tense that Jason would rather they be screaming at each other. That’s what he was used to: his brother’s hands hurting rather than helping.
“Y’know, letting me die or stay compelled would solve a lot of your problems.”
Dick answered with surprising patience. “I told you. No one deserves that.”
“PR bullshit.”
“Nothing I say will be good enough, will it?”
“Because you’re a manipulator saying nice bat approved slogans.” Jason snapped, fully aware that he was at an incredible disadvantage if this turned into a fight. It would take no effort to rip his gut open again. “You arresting me after this? Gonna tie my bandages with a bow and haul me off to the cave for judgment?”
Dick let out a frustrated noise. “You think that I gave your skin back as some kind of chess move? Or that I’m sitting here sewing you closed as a favor to be cashed in?” He was agitated, still stitching but close to yelling again. “If you think so little of me, why even call?”
“Because I don’t know who I can trust with my skin! Or at all!” At last the needle stilled. Safe under the crook of his elbow, Jason blinked back tears.
Bruce stopped caring. You were supposed to take his side like always.
A hand settled on his knee, the gentlest of pressures. “That's the entire reason why I left my number. Despite everything we’ve been through...you’re still my brother. And now you have at least fifteen stitches, probably a few more once I’m done, to prove I give a shit about you.”
The last three stitches were finished in silence. “Here.” Jason finally peeked from behind his arm to see Dick wiping off his hands before holding out the folded red jacket. “I rinsed out the blood. Wasn’t sure if I could use soap or not.”
Alarm bells were going off. His body waited anxiously for a new command to hollow it out, for the illusion of peace to shatter. Dick started to speak then stopped himself. Instead, he gave the pelt insistent shakes until Jason cautiously snatched it.
Emotions slammed into him so powerfully he would’ve been knocked to the floor if he wasn’t there already. The heat of righteous fury and stabbing grief, all soothed away by the comfort of…love. It carried Jason away like the tide. This odd emotional carry-over had only happened twice before. Once was with his mother, an echo of joy. The other was during his Robin years as an awkward teen, still finding his place in a new family.
It’d been his first kidnapping as a civilian and a rather brutal one. But the worst part was being separated from his jacket when he was carried to freedom. Jason panicked and begged the paramedics and police, anyone who would listen, calling for Bruce who’d disappeared to change out of his uniform. No one understood the urgency.
Except Nightwing.
Dick, who never touched Jason’s seal skin out of an abundance of respect, came running, pushing through people until the jacket was back in Jason’s bruised arms.
The same overwhelming wave had washed over Jason then, drowning out the beatings and fear with the blazing light of his brother’s love and concern. He’d yanked Dick into a hug, probably choking him in the process. But Dick held him tight, whispering reassurances until Bruce was there to take over.
Jason never second guessed his place in their family after that.
Not even when the bombs went off.
Jason’s wide-eyed stare was starting to concern Dick. Was it shock at someone else touching the selkie’s skin? Or maybe…fear that Dick would use it. A disgusting thought, but also understandable. He’d almost spoken a command on accident trying to get Jason to take it. Actually, he wasn’t sure if a command had to be spoken so he’d worked hard to think about anything other than Jason taking the jacket from him.
“Jay? Something wrong?” His little brother blinked, jacket clutched against his chest as he came out of some kind of daze. Dick frowned. Did Jason hit his head? There wasn’t any blood or other signs of a concussion. He’d have to keep an eye on it tonight.
“‘m fine.” Grunting, Jason pushed himself up on one elbow, then gradually straightened his arm. His breath came in sharp hisses as his torso and wound began to twist. Classic Jason, pushing right past whatever was obviously not alright.
“Just like you’re doing.” The little Donna on his shoulder snarked. Dick bit his cheek, silencing the mental nagging with a promise to call the real Donna soon.
“You’re not going anywhere in that state.” He said. Jason opened his mouth but then thought better of it, swallowing whatever vitriol he’d prepared in favor of a glare. Ah. It seemed his welcome was officially worn out. Dick stood, brushing off his suit and wandering towards a window. “I’m heading out. There’s plenty of dry and canned goods, some frozen food too. Medicine is also fully stocked plus you have my number.”
He didn’t want to go. It felt cruel leaving Jason to fend for himself with an injury like this. Plus he’d actually reached out, even if he was still suspicious. This was their equivalent of a moon landing. One small step, one giant leap, yadda yadda–
“Wait! I…” Jason trailed off, eyes darting away when Dick turned around, “I haven’t shifted recently. Sickness will probably start hitting tomorrow and–” He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath, struggling to get the words out, “I…I–”
“Okay,” Dick said softly, sparing his brother, “I’ll stay.” Some of the stiffness in Jason’s shoulders melted away. Was he that eager for Dick’s company? Or would he settle for anyone not trying to kill him?
“Old man isn't going to wonder where you are?”
Another out. And an opportunity to tell Jason what happened that night. God, he hadn't even told Tim the whole story, there was no telling what Bruce was saying about it if he said anything. But Dick only shook his head and held out his hands. This wasn’t the time. It might never be.
“C’mon. Let’s get you off the floor and into bed.”
“Yeah, what genius decided to put me on cold, hard tile? You care that much about cheap carpet?” Jason winced as he grabbed Dick’s forearms. A small cry escaped as he stood on shaky legs, despite their best efforts to not stress his abdomen. He swayed on his feet, holding onto Dick for dear life. “Oh shit, I think I might–”
“Hold it in! Your stitches–”
“Right, I’m choosing to vomit for fun!” Jason glared at him, startlingly pale. “I forgot!”
“I could carry you?”
“I’d rather be a sea cucumber.”
Dick couldn’t help but smile as they began a slow shuffle to the bedroom.
Sleep came in bouts, accompanied by mostly nonsensical but harmless waking dreams. But several times Jason startled from a deep, disorienting sleep. Hazy spectors of Bruce loomed in the corners of the room while Jason groped for his seal skin. Once he was sure it was still securely on him, he held tight until the thundering in his ears settled into a calm thrum that lulled him back to sleep.
This time he wasn’t able to breathe through it, couldn’t stop seeing Bruce’s disdain when his eyes drifted closed. The little digital alarm clock on the nightstand glowed ominously in the dark room, casting Dick’s profile in red. His brother was enviously asleep in a chair beside the bed, ready to help like the eager golden child he was.
It was too easy to fall back into old habits with Dick and it terrified him. After so long on his own, not trusting anyone, especially the people he once called family, he’d revealed too much. And Dick would want to talk about it, or reel him back into the fold while making excuses for Bruce, and Jason just…couldn’t. So it was time to bail. He’d only gotten a few hours of rest but it would have to do. Slowly, Jason eased up on both elbows.
“Don’t,” mumbled Dick, “Or I’ll handcuff you to the damn bed.”
Jason stared at his brother. How? His damn eyes were shut!
“I mean it.”
Jason scoffed but lay back down only because his abdomen began aching anew. “Can’t sleep. I was gonna walk around.”
With a bark of laughter, Dick finally opened his eyes. “Walk?”
“Shut up.” He grumbled, trying and failing to cross his arms. “Just wanted a little space. I’m not used to…company.”
Dick hummed in reply. “Or thinking more of yourself. And me, while you’re at it.”
“That is rich coming from you. Being a hypocrite should be your full time gig.”
Dick stood, his chuckling turning to a wince as his knees loudly cracked. “I might have some melatonin in the stash, want me to look?”
“God, yes. If I have one more hallucination of Batman, I’ll lose the rest of my mind.”
That wiped the cheer from his brother. Dick paused in the doorway, voice dropping to a more serious tone. “Jason, I–”
“Shut the hell up. We’re not doing this at four in the morning. I’d say we never are but I’m not that stupid, I know you won’t drop it.”
“Aw is that a promise, little wing?”
“I’ll shoot you, Dickface. I swear it.”
A few minutes later Dick came back with a small bottle of gummies in the shapes of smiling stars and moons. “The pills were sold out.” He mumbled, shaking a hefty dose into Jason’s hand. As if that explanation would spare him any imminent ridicule. But Jason abandoned the teasing when he saw Dick take the same amount, a distant, haunted look in his eyes as he settled back into the chair.
Another harsh reminder that Jason didn’t know his brother anymore.
“Let's go back to you trying to spoon feed me soup, that was less humiliating.”
“You can't even stand up straight.”
“I have nothing but the scraps of my pride. Do this and I’ll kneecap you.”
“Stop being dramatic, the bathroom is right there.” Dick sighed impatiently, hands on his hips. “It’s barely ten feet away. Let me carry you.”
Jason scowled. “You let me walk earlier to piss.”
“You moaned and groaned the entire time and your stitches started bleeding.”
Cursing under his breath, Jason threw his hands up. “Fine!” He was dying to get in the water. His joints ached and skin itched from the lack of shifting, making his restlessness even worse. It would be worth a little humiliation. Maybe.
Mindful of his wound, Dick lifted Jason from the bed like he was a gallant knight. “Tell anyone and I'll garrotte you, circus guy.”
“Can't hear you.” Dick heaved with dramatic huffs and fake stumble. “Body…under…too much strain.”
He set Jason down feet first in the extra long tub, keeping an arm around Jason’s hunched body until he shifted. It was a tight fit for a full grown leopard seal–no doubt even more uncomfortable for Dick's long tail despite the custom length–but it felt luxurious nonetheless. Even after a few months of being able to shift again, Jason still felt off. Hell of a shock to die as a pup and come back as an eight foot predator.
Despite that, the water felt so amazing that he didn't notice Dick sitting down beside the tub instead of leaving. His knees were tucked to his chest, face cradled in his hands. Worn down was the only way to describe his demeanor.
Was he…happy to be here? With Jason? He smiled and teased but…Dick could bluff with the best of them. He told bold faced lies to people who knew his soul like their own and got away with it. Who's to say that he wasn't doing it right now? After so many years apart, they were practically strangers.
Yet a part of him, left over from when Jason was deemed worthy, still implicitly trusted his big brother. Although…did he even want to call Dick his brother anymore? When the person who made them a family in the first place turned into a monster? The idea of stripping that title from Dick felt like another exhausting loss.
Besides, Dick was calling him little wing and brother. So…maybe it was okay. Maybe there was more connecting them than dead parents, a cave, and obligation.
They sat for nearly half an hour in silence before Dick spoke. “What changed? When you asked me to stay?” After a silent beat he looked up at Jason who blinked at him. Another perk of being a seal; no talking. Dick huffed in amusement, realizing his mistake. “Right. One day Google will add Mer and Seal to their language database.”
It would be easy to stay shifted. To continue avoiding any more conversation. But something in his brother's eyes–and the mounting strain of holding his form–made Jason shift back. At least his wound ached a little less, soothed by the water.
“It was when you passed me my skin.” Dick’s brows lifted a bit. Shocking himself, Jason kept talking. “There's this…” He waved a hand around, flinging droplets of water, “phenomena where it sometimes retains strong emotions from the person who last touched it. It's only happened twice before.”
“What did you feel this time?”
“...that you didn't mean any harm.” Such an understatement but it still made Dick's face twist with an emotion Jason refused to name.
“Oh, Jay.” There was a thud as Dick let his head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “I’m not your damn responsibility, Grayson.” But his soul longed for a world where that happened. Where Dick dropped from the starless sky and snatched the pelt away while Jason cowered at Batman’s feet. His brother’s eyes flicked down to meet his and Jason knew Dick disagreed. That he needed to protect Jason even if it killed him.
The desire to seize Dick by the shoulders and shake him until he admitted it aloud overtook Jason. I died in your uniform, walking in your footsteps, of course I’m your fucking responsibility! Did you visit my grave? Did you look for me in the depths of the bay? Did every drop of water haunt you the way it haunted me?
Jason looked away first, down at the water breaking around his waist and borrowed shorts. Words didn’t matter. What would he do with them anyway, except feel repulsed and guilty of imitating a ghost? Dick Grayson dying for Jason Todd would be a pointless sacrifice.
“What…did it feel like?” asked Dick, seemingly desperate for any conversation with him, “Being compelled?”
“Ever carve a pumpkin? Scrape out the seeds?” There was a bitten off sound–grief, understanding, anger, Jason didn’t know. He was remembering a pool. Warm, fluffy towels wrapped around him. “Something like that.”
“Yeah,” breathed Dick, hugging his knees, “something like that.”
Understanding hit Jason like a crack of lightning. He was a moron, it was so blatantly obvious. Sure, it was hard to care about other events while trying to avoid every one of Gotham’s numerous gangs, but Jason had heard the news. Who hadn’t? Blüdhaven decimated by chemo bombs and Nightwing nearly killing himself trying to save people. And now, with his tired eyes closed and face tilted towards the ceiling again, Jason could see the fading scars scattered down Dick’s face and neck for what they were. Chemical burns.
“Scraped hollow is a pretty good description.”
If this was five years ago, if Jason were still an innocent child with remnants of naive sweetness, he might have–at the very least–lay a comforting hand on Dick or given him a hug. Or more likely told him it wasn’t his fault. Tell his brother that he…that no matter what, he still…
Instead Jason sank back into the water, a seal once more, as they lapsed back into silence. When the cramps started, Jason gave up and shifted back. Without needing to be asked, Dick rose to help him back to bed with instructions to get some sleep while he made a call in the other room.
All things considered, this wasn’t a bad arrangement. Dick with his perpetual savior complex and Jason the eternal fuck up.
“One more lap?”
Jason grimaced as he clung to Dick’s arm. Today was full of improvements. He was standing at more of a 45 degree angle than 70 and was shuffling around the sparsely furnished living room at record speed. “Is this a glimpse at my geriatric future?”
Dick grinned wide, catching Jason when his knee buckled. “How ‘bout a round of bingo? I can even cube some jello for you.”
“If I ever ask you for that, smother me in my sleep.” He grunted as Dick helped him ease into the lone armchair. “Hell. I’m not getting back on the streets for a while, huh?”
“Relax, it’s only been three days. A long rest might actually do you good.” Dick headed towards the kitchen. “Want some soup?”
More boring soup and protein shakes when all he wanted was a burger. Jason massaged his temples. He needed to up his abdominal armor because this recovery and bat approved liquid diet was torture. “What choice do I have?”
“There’s always perfectly cubed blue jello.” The words were barely out of Dick’s mouth before he started cackling at the joke, rummaging around the small kitchen. Jason rolled his eyes, fighting off a smile. It was easy to pretend they were picking up where they left off five years ago. Like there was only the sea and all its endless potential between them, not a mountain of bodies and an open grave.
Or the sobering knowledge that once Jason could walk on his own–or even before then–Dick would leave. Back to Bruce. It was probably a good thing Jason wasn’t on the streets yet. He didn't know how he’d react to seeing Batman. Or how Batman would react to him. If it came to it though, Jason could handle a brawl.
At least, he could’ve. Now the idea of Bruce being within arms reach of his seal skin sent his heart racing and stomach plunging in primal fear. He never wanted to feel that helpless again, have his body turn on him, his mind manipulated like a ball of clay, crushed and twisted, a plaything to be discarded–
“Jay?” A hand lightly touched his knee. “You’re safe. I’m here. Let’s take some deep breaths together, okay?”
Jason didn’t realize he’d been squeezing his eyes shut. His fingers dug into his joggers like claws. Dick was here, kneeling in front of him looking worried, and Jason did feel safe at last. But it wouldn’t last. It never lasted. Every time he was happy, it was snatched away. Why should this be any different?
“Get off.” Jason panted, slapping Dick’s hand away. He wanted to pace but that was out of the question. Hyperventilating would have to do.
“Little Wing–”
“Stop! Just stop it!” Not that nickname, not that reminder of a life he’ll never have again. Jason hunched over despite the pain, burying both hands in his hair. “Stop treating me like this! Like…like–”
“Like what?” The question was soft, not rising to Jason’s hysteria. He wished it would. Wished the room would ring with screams and insults and anger, not the empty quiet of sympathy.
“Like I matter! Like I’m not a giant fucking mistake who should be six feet under!” Jason looked up through his fingers, tears blurring Dick’s face. “I’m a selkie who can’t shift right, I turned every Gotham gang against me, Bruce wishes I was still dead, and you–”
“I’ve been here helping for two days straight. I’ve told you again and again that you matter to me,” Dick gestured as he spoke, his motions becoming more animated, “Even your hoodie said I cared!”
No, it carried over the deepest of love, not just care, and that felt even crueler. His lips pulled into a sneer, doing nothing to hide the waver in his voice. “What does it matter? Once you’ve washed your hands of me, you’re going back to him.”
Dick sat back on his heels as Jason angrily wiped his eyes. “I thought…” The sentence trailed off as Dick took a steadying breath, “I thought not telling you would be kinder. But the truth is…I didn’t just waltz in and out of the cave with your pelt. Bruce wasn’t going to let it go without a fight.” They locked eyes and the fierce determination in his brother’s was shocking. “So I gave him one.”
They…fought? As Robin, Jason had seen plenty of Bruce and Dick standoffs but they’d never gotten physical. At least…not when he was present. “Your face that night…”
“Should’ve seen Bruce’s.” Dick’s smirk was humorless and quickly disappeared. “Anyway, we’re done, told him when I left.”
“You can’t–you can’t give that up for me.” Jason sputtered, even though it was all he'd wanted to hear. “You were his Robin, he raised you, built that massive pool for you–”
“And that man died with you,” whispered Dick, “I barely even recognize him now. Hurting you like that wasn't justice.”
This…this was too much. “Liar.” Dick had to be lying, nothing ever worked out this well for him. Maybe his skin got it wrong. Either way, Jason got in too deep, way too fast. “You’re lying, like always.” Knives leapt into his mouth, fired off with accuracy he’d learned from the man before him. “Bruce put you up to this because there’s no way you’d stop licking his damn boots. You should've killed me in that alley, I never should have called–”
“Dammit Jason!” Dick lunged forward, seizing his jacket sleeve and giving it a rough shake. “Will this finally get it through that thick skull of yours? That I love you? That I’ll fight for you, even if it’s against Bruce? You’re my little brother! My little wing and I have missed you so much.”
Jason stared at the sleeve Dick was still pointlessly gripping. Why couldn’t it work this time, of all times? Why couldn't he be engulfed by the warmth of that declaration? An idiotic laugh started building in him, his lips twitching with it.
Dick frowned. “What?”
“Dickie…” he motioned to the sleeve, “this isn’t how it works.”
For a long second Dick stared blankly at him, then at the jacket, no doubt recalling their conversation yesterday. “But–”
“Being a selkie doesn’t give my jacket automatic mind-reading powers. I don't even know why or when it’ll happen.”
“So my whole speech…” A sheepish smile spread over Dick’s face. “Did I at least sound convincing?”
The laugh escaped from Jason. Followed by another. And another until he and Dick were wheezing and nearly in tears for no fucking reason. Dick snorted, sending them into another fit as Jason cried from laughter. Except…the tears wouldn’t stop. Even after his laughter died off, they persisted no matter how much he wiped at his eyes.
“H-he used it.” Jason gasped. Dick immediately sobered up. “Dad promised me he'd never use it a-and– how could he?” Another heaving sob choked him. Rising to his knees, Dick pulled Jason into a hug, cradling his head and murmuring reassurances.
“I'm sorry.” whispered Dick, carding his fingers through Jason's hair, running a steady hand up and down his trembling back. Anger, grief, sheer all-consuming joy. All of it wracked Jason’s aching body. He buried his face in Dick’s shoulder, muffling his loud cries. “I'm so sorry.”
Pain and his big brother's steady presence gradually helped Jason reel himself back in. “So y-you’re staying?” He stuttered out. Another throb radiated from his stitches. He pressed a hand to them but refused to pull away. It felt good to be hugged after so long, to pretend he was fifteen again.
Dick leaned his head on Jason’s. “Until you’re healed. After that I’m only as far away as you want me. Here, sit up. Let me check your wound.”
Hissing, Jason leaned back in the chair and hiked up his shirt. Every muscle in his torso pulled and ached. He had to take shallow breaths for a good minute. “Y’know Dick, you’re wrong about one thing.”
Dick raised an eyebrow as he peeled back the thick bandage. “Hmm?”
“I think the world of you.” I love you. “Always have.”
“Thanks, Jay.” Dick smiled up at him as he pressed the bandage back on. “Now, how about that soup?”
“Yes, please.” Jason moaned as he dragged both hands over his face. “I've embarrassed myself enough.” Once Dick was back in the kitchen, he cleared his throat. “Hey, uh…can we go swimming once I'm in better shape? In the bay, like we used to?” A mer and a selkie, the most unlikely pair in all of Gotham.
“Yeah kiddo, I’d love to.” It wasn't hard to picture Dick's megawatt smile, it even brightened his voice. “But only after you eat all your jello.”