Chapter Text
PREVIOUSLY:
"I really do love you, Jason."
Bruce worried he'd given his son a premature heart attack... But the boy breathed out once more.
"Yeah yeah... I love you too, old man."
TWO DAYS LATER:
"You're sure about this, Jay?"
The second robin rolled his shoulders and cast an expressionless gaze at his older brother.
"Positive. Gotham can't last long without some line of defense. I'm not batman, but since you guys aren't ready to let him touch the cowl again, someone's gotta step up."
They'd taken the first steps. Their family had finally burst the oozing wound that they'd worked so hard to cover and forget.
Jason wasn't sure where he fell into the equation. Or even how he felt. His mind was a mess though; so the latter fact was hardly surprising.
He'd long come to grips with the fact that Bruce had nearly killed him with that batarang. His family and the league had not.
As far as Jason could tell, both the bats and the league had descended on Bruce like protective mother bears, ironically on the black sheep's behalf. It was strange. He never understood how so many people could be on his side.
The league had authorized Bruce's probation, and his own children had stripped away the cowl and hidden it. Now Bruce had to confront his shortcomings. It was going to be a long and painful road for everyone.
Dick hadn't left Jason's side in nearly two weeks. And while there were indeed times Jason felt suffocated, he felt comforted at the same time. But Jason knew all good things must come to an end.
Tim had already gone back to Gotham with Bruce and Damian. And Jason had this incling that all hell was about to break loose on Gotham.
He was going home. He wasn't ready. His mind was a mess, and both he and Dick were well aware of that. It hardly mattered though.
Jason couldn't ignore the pressing business in Gotham anymore than he could ignore a gunshot wound.
"Besides-" Jason continued. "-I need a crap load of help, and while you've helped me unbelievably, you also can't babysit me forever."
Dick's eyes flashed worriedly, fingers digging into the worn wood of Ma Kent's porch step.
"You could always come to Blüdhaven." Dick offered, hope clinging to his voice.
Jason was both floored and touched by the offer, though none of that breached his impassive facade. As tempting as it was, Jason knew leaving his patch of the city was out of the question.
"Dick, Crime Alley needs me." The second Robin pointedly declared. "And the Haven needs you."
Dick nodded. He'd known as much. But he still worried. Jason was far from stable. He spent every other day in a depressive funk, a funk he spent a great deal of time ignoring.
"Okay." The oldest Robin acquiesced relucantly. "I'll let you go. Under one condition."
"And what might that be?"
"If you're depressed, you call me. If you get hurt, you call-" Jason opened his mouth, but Dick raised a hand. "If you need to talk, you call me. If you want to call one of the other bats instead, that's fine too... But I want you to call someone. I need to know you're okay. No more hiding, Jay. No more pretending you're fine."
Jay gnawed on his lip, eyes narrowing. He didn't appreciate the attempt on his privacy, but he also knew that Dick was trying to be there and give him space at the same time.
Then it dawned on him. He had leverage here. Dick wasn't forthcoming about his problems either. But going forward, Jason wanted their relationship to be one of mutual trust. If they were going to fix this insane little family, it had to work both ways.
An oath was valued by both men.
He looked Dick straight in the eye. "Only if you agree to the same."
That was clearly not what Dick had expected. The oldest Robin opened his mouth in protest. It was the moment of truth. If he trusted Jason, he'd agree. If he agreed and went back on his word, it would be detrimental to all the ground they'd covered since that night Jason had gotten shot.
His jaw clicked shut. He finally recovered his voice after a moment of thought. "You sly little-" Jason grinned. "Alright, alright. I've got your six, and you've got mine."
Jason smiled, his green eyes lighting up in a contagious way that had Dick beaming himself. He didn't care that Jason wasn't a hugger. He dropped his arm around Jason's ripped shoulders and drew him in close.
"Don't make me stab you." Jason half heartedly grouched.
"That's such a Damian thing to say."
"Fine-" Jason snorted. "Don't make me shoot you."
Dick smiled fondly. It hadn't been too long ago that Jason wouldn't have agreed to be honest, or even to the hug.
Things were finally looking up.
FOUR DAYS LATER:
Jason Todd was screwed. Eight to one were typical odds for any vigilante in a city as volatile as Gotham.
But these weren't just eight bogies. They were eight bogies with deathstroke level training and an arsenal of plans.
Unlike Gotham's gallery of colorful creeps, these people didn't play games or embrace dramatic antics.
They approached him with an ultimatum. And there were several things working against Jason.
Two hostages, one on each side of the city.
Video evidence to back it up.
The iron will of killers who would execute the hostages on command.
One word.
Surrender.
The odds were not stacked in Jason's favor. These people had appeared out of nowhere, demanding his surrender and leaving him with no choices, no way out.
Rough concrete dug into his knees as he dropped, guns clattering against the rooftop as his hands rested on the smooth reinforced plastic of his helmet.
"Search him!"
Jason put up no resistance as they stripped his jacket, yanked his belt off, removed his boots. Instead he watched the terrified hostages through the tablet Mr. Swift -their leader- was holding.
"Let them go. Your business is with me." Jason ground out as they picked him clean of weapons.
"No." Mr. Swift amended, cradling the tablet and spearing the second robin with a smug look. "My business is with my employer. You are the business. I'm sorry there was no proper introduction. I do not waste my time."
Jason's blood ran cold.
"I am Mr. Swift. This is my team. We were hired to bring you in, but I gather you already deduced that. I figured I could forego needless fighting and just win your surrender." He gestured to the tablet in his arms. It was a scary wake up call. Not all villains enjoyed playing with their prey, especially the ones from outside of Gotham.
"Boys?"
Two of the enforcers working under Swift, grabbed Jason's arms, holding them out to the sides, ninety degrees away from his body.
"Who hired you?" Jason demanded.
Swift didn't acknowledge the question as a third enforcer came up behind Jason. It was a woman, her finger trailed over the curve of Jason's shoulder blade, earning a scowl from the nearly-twenty year old.
Don't fight back or they're dead. Jason reminded himself. Don't. fight. back.
It hardly mattered anyway. Their suits were augmented to enhance their strength and speed. He didn't really stand a chance of jerking his wrists free.
The woman behind him suddenly drew her hand back. There was a sickening crack, and fiery pain tore through Jason's shoulder as the joint was wrenched out of socket under her fist.
He cried out, instantly losing feeling in that arm to pins and needles... Then nothing. The man holding it pulled tighter on the out of joint limb, and black ebbed into Jason's vision. His stomach rolled. He gagged, and the woman touched his other shoulder. He shuddered. Owowowow No!
Another crack, and pain surged through both shoulders as he yanked against the already damaged one.
He lost a chunk of time. His hands were wrenched behind his back, cuffed. It hurt, bad.
The cement scraped the side of the helmet, snagged at his chest as he was dragged across the rooftop by his ankles.
"-lemination order..." Mumbles. "-ants him dead. Not brought in. Dispose of him."
A boot crashed into his ribs, followed by others. Jason grit his teeth and curled in on himself, yelping as a rib cracked.
He resisted the blackness, as much as he possibly could. Passing out in enemy hands was hardly ideal, but eventually, the void dragged him under.
Jason came to, the smell of salty air and rotting fish assaulting his nostrils. He nearly threw up.
He was being forced to stand. Stabs of pain lanced from his disconnected shoulders, wrapping around his spine at the base of his neck.
His ribs were out of wack, probably broken. He shuddered as they approached with a heavy roll of chain, bending to tie it around his ankles.
"I'd recommend holding your breath." Swift sneered, stepping to the edge of the dock and staring into the black murkey depths.
"It's not deep, but I doubt you'll be swimming with no arms and no legs. I-"
"Commander, Swift." Static crackled on his belt. "We released the hostages and are-"
Jason locked eyes with Swift. Clearly Jason wasn't supposed to know that -if the look on Swift's scarred face was anything to go by-.
Boom. Leverage gone.
His knee rammed into someone's face.The chains dragged loosely around his heels as he dove for the water. No one was expecting that of all things. He hit the cold, nearly losing his breath as liquid began seeping into his kevlar.
His helmet was gone. When had that happened? He shook his head, wrenching his feet against the chains. They tugged and loosened, letting him slip his ankles free. Then he kicked. The water roared, bullets creating little vortexes in the water surrounding him. The adrenaline almost masked te twinge as a bullet slammed into his thigh, tearing through his cargo pants. Warm liquid gushed into the water and slipped through his toes. He bit back a cry, snapping his feet up and down against the pain.
He couldn't hold his breath long. He hadn't gotten a decent lung full of air with the damage inflicted on his chest. Steel toed boots. Blegh.
Hugging the docks, he swam. His lungs squeezed in his chest, throat constricting as spots swam in his already obstructed vision. The plinks had died away, the water calm. He adjusted his kicks and broke free from the murky depths. His ribs stung as he inhaled sharply. His arms were useless, meaning he had to find a patch of sloped ground to climb out of. He dove back under the water, using years of study knowledge and route running to plot a course to a sandy slope. His stomach scraped in the mud and grit as he planted his knees into the debris and forced himself up and out.
His chest burned, eyes watering, ears ringing. His shoulders sagged as water dripped off, leg trying to give out as the bullet shifted in his muscle. He jerked, managing to keep his balance. He couldn't stop now. So he steeled his mind, shoved the pain away and ran.
His arms were still dislocated, wrenched behind his back with cold steel locking his wrists together. His ribs were cracked and bruised. He had a bullet hole in his thigh. He was cold, shivering, and so done with the night. He ran. And ran. And ran. The docks morphed into alley ways, short stubby buildings getting gradually taller as he slipped deeper into the city. Thankfully, Bruce had made Jason memorize big patches of Alley ways back in the early days, back when he was robin. He could probably get across the city blind folded.
Thankfully, anyone who did see the cuffed 'madman' lurching through the alleys mostly ignored him. He didn't stick around for someone to call the police and report a possible Arkham escapee either. He couldn't get to a safehouse. That meant climbing, twisting a key, and opening a door. His leg refused to support his weight.
As he limped along, he came to an empty street. The lights were dim, flickering from disrepair. With a sigh, he dragged his feet, figuring he'd have to walk to Wayne Manor and hope Bruce would help him. He passed a phonebooth, wishing that he had a quarter, more specifically one he could actually get his hands on. His numb, clammy hands. Two quarters sat perched on top.
Okay, now I'm hallucinating. Luck is never on my side. Jason mused, blinking away the spots and checking again. Someone, in their haste, had indeed left two quarters sitting on top. It was theft. He knew it. But the chances of him bleeding to death before he got across town, was steadily increasing. He carefully, limped over, shuddering in disgust as he planted his top teeth on the first quarter, clamping his bottom teeth onto it as soon as the edge was dangling in the air. It killed his ribs to stoop; to angle the quarter and get in it the slot.
Doing it again nearly dropped him. The phone lit up, and Jason frowned. Who the heck was he going to call? The demon spawn would never let him live this predicament down. The replacement needed sleep, and Bruce... well despite the bat's words, Jason wasn't sure he was ready to face him. Not this injured, not this weak. He couldn't handle the disappointment he'd most assuredly see in Bruce's eyes. That's when the fragments of a conversation drifted through his muddled mind.
"If you're depressed, you call me. If you get hurt, you call-"
He gripped the phone in his jaws and let it drop to dangle by the cord. Then he used his nose to dial up Dick's number. His strength was gone, spots swimming in his eyes. Cool plastic pressed against his back, giving him an easy, smooth, and squeaky slide to the bottom.
"Yello, Dick Grayson speaking. Who is this?"
Jason heard the faint voice from the receiver, letting out a sob of relief. It was quiet, but still echoed enough to be heard over the phone.
"Hello?"
"Dick." Jason croaked weakly. "I called. Ya... t'ld me ta... call. I... I'm..." Jason trailed off, mind blanking. What was he?
"Jason?" Why did Dick sound panicked? Pain seized every muscle in his body, Jason's back arching off the plexiglass phone booth wall, strangled gasp tearing from his lungs. Oh right.
"I'm... uh... I'm not feelin' so great..." He forced the slur away, slowly enunciating his words so Dick could understand.
"Okay," He heard a thunk. "I'm coming to you. Where are you?"
Jason retraced his steps. "West Rojo road." He took a shuddering breath. "The... the phone booth."
"Okay, Jay. Stay awake. I'm coming. Do you hear me? I'm coming." A cynical, ocasionally dormant piece of Jason scoffed in disbelief. Old thinking patterns bubbled up from the deepest darkest recesses of his mind. He was weak. Better off just dying and saving people the trouble. Dick was just trying to make him feel better, promising to come so Jason would die peacefully.
His time on the phone expired, Dick's worried assurances ringing around in his head long after he actually stopped hearing them. His shoulders radiated agony, his leg still oozing blood. In a last moment of clarity, he angled the bullet hole against the edge of the phone booth, pushing hard. Jagged tears ripped his vision asunder, before blackness ebbed completely into vision.
"-ason... Jason."
"Hnnn... Gah!" He yelped, jumping.
"Easy. That's it. Come on back to me, Jay." A gentle hand gripped the side of his neck. A heaviness kept his lids glued shut, but his mind was back and sharp... relatively speaking. It was Dick kneeling in front of him, hand splayed against Jason's chilled throat. "You with me?"
" 'nfort'nat'ly."
"Just take it easy." Dick murmured. Suddenly the hand left, and the dull ache in his leg cobwebbed into a stabbing burn.
"Argh! What are you doing?!" Jason snapped, jerking sharply. Both of the Golden Boy's hands were pushing down on the oozing wound in his thigh, and gosh darn, it hurt!
"Woah, woah. Just take it easy, Jaybird." Dick soothed gently. "I gotta get the bleeding stopped." Jason forced an eye open questioningly. At his glance, Dick pressed his lips together. "There's still a bullet in there."
"Nnnn." Jason swallowed thickly, head pressing against the glass. "It hurts." He whispered.
"I know. You're in rough shape. But I promise; you're gonna be okay. I've got you now." Dick's eyes locked with his, as he tightening the bandage to keep what was left of Jason's precious blood inside the troublesome little hole. Jason's breath hitched, eyes rolling back, body begging to give up. "Stay with me." Dick's voice drew him back. "I have to get these cuffs off you."
Jason shuddered as Dick crawled closer to his side, gentle hands leaning him forward. His ribs protested vehemently, breath catching his throat. Dick knelt, setting his foot down on Jason's other side, leg bent above the nineteen year old's lap. He let Jason's chest rest against his thigh, fingers deftly working to pick the cuff's lock without jarring his little brother's shoulders. A sharp click, and Jason was free. His shoulders were misshapen, swollen under the kevlar fabric. His arms were twisted weirdly, and limp without the cuffs.
"There we go..." Dick murmured gently. "Jay, I need to get your arms back in socket."
The boy didn't reply, paling slightly at the thought. He shivered involuntarily, squeezing his eyes shut at the mere thought of the pain. He wondered how much damage had been caused to his arms by their rather precarious position out of socket. Dick brushed the side of his face, drawing Jay's attention. "It's gonna be okay." The words weren't as comforting as Dick had hoped. Jason swallowed thickly. "Try and stay with me. After this, I can get you home, get you warm."
That sounded nice. Jason admitted internally as Dick carefully gripped Jason's arm. He'd done this hundreds of times before, both to himself and to others. They jumped off buildings, a feat which put constant strains on their shoulders. A sudden stop more often than not resulted in partial or complete dislocation. He was fast. It would take much time to get Jason's sharp yet short scream out of his head, not for days to come.
Jason woke up, feet scraping uselessly. His shoulder was on fire, wrenched over someone's shoulder. The person's hand was wrapped against his hip, sparing his ribs the agony of being clung to. "-and they blamed me!" Dick was muttering. "It's not my fault there was a stupid rock there."
He could feel both hands now. Of all the coherent thoughts that could have assaulted Jay's mind, it was the ability to wiggle all his fingers the drew his undivided attention. He worked to get his feet cooperating and in sync with Dick's steady gait. He put weight on his bad leg, knee buckling and nearly throwing Dick off balance. Jason wasn't small. He was bulky, lean but buff. He was taller than Dick by an inch, meaning it would be difficult for him to successfully carry the nineteen year old Red Hood.
"Hey, hey, easy." Dick soothed as Jason whimpered. "I've got you. Just lean on me."
"M'fine. M'fine."
"Uh uh." Dick shook his head, pulling Jason more tightly against his side, cynching the gap between them shut. "Not even close."
Jason stared at the street, still fighting to make it easier on Dick, breath stuttering and hitching. It seemed he'd yet again screwed up so badly that Dick had felt obligated to come to his rescue. He was surprised Dick had even showed up, but "M'sorry. Didn't m'n... to be an 'nconvenience
"Shut up." Dick snapped, demeanor shifting one-eighty. Dick flinched at the sudden appearance of his little known tempter; and Jason startled, jerking in surprise and putting weight on his thigh. The muscle twitched, sending frenzied signals from his pain receptors.
"Gah, ah!" He fell hard against Dick, missing the horrified look on the oldest Robin's face. A tear dripped down Jason's cheek.
"Shoot... Jay... I'm sorry." The first robin backtracked guiltily, tightening his grip on Jason's wrist. "Hey." He frowned. His brother was now seriously lagging, even with a strong pair of arms to goad him on. The pain caused by his surprised floundering sent him on a downward drop that Dick could only fight to slow.
Jason curled up in pain, gasping and whimpering. Dick was talking, words muffled. His hand came to rest on Jason's arm, another on his cheek.
"Come on, Jason." Jason. Not little wing, not Jaybird, Jason. "You can do it." He didn't let him stay down. He was hauling Jason forward, despite the resistance.
"We're almost to..." He grunted, dragging his falling brother towards the car he'd driven to Gotham in. He eased Jason's arm from over his shoulder. "-my car..." He opened the passenger front seat and set Jason down. For a moment it was only Dick that kept him from collapsing bonelessly. "Alright. We're going to drive to your closest safehouse. Just lay back... there ya go." Jason moaned, head lulling against the headrest. Dick noted with a sinking gut how weak his little brother was, pressing two fingers against his carotid.
Jason blearily dragged his eyes open,
"I'm sorry, Jay." Dick apologized again, noting the way his brother had started shaking. "I didn't mean... You..." Dick collected his thoughts. His hand reached up, lightly cupping his little brother's face. "You aren't a burden or an inconvienence. I asked you to call me. You did. You could have called anyone, but you called me." Dick sighed. "I'm not at all upset that you needed me. I'm glad I could come to help you. Now we are going to get you fixed up, ya hear?"
He got a faint head nod in response. Dick did a quick assessment,
"Your leg's bleeding again." Dick pulled another gauze pad from his utility belt. "Your safehouse is about a ten minute drive from here, but I need to make sure you don't bleed out before we get you there."
"S'gonna hurt." Jason mumbled.
"I'm sorry Jaybird." Dick whispered. "I'll be as quick as I can." Jason fixed him with a tired gaze. Dick knew his little brother was done, done with the pain, done with the stress. "Why don't you try and think about a rainbow or somethin?"
At that, Jason snorted, tensing up as Dick placed the swathe of fabric over his leg.
"Jason-" Dick lightly set a hand on his thigh above the wound and looked him dead in the eye. "I know it hurts, but try to relax your leg for me... Good. That's it."
The boy's breath stuttered as he forced his thigh muscle to unclench, gritting his teeth. Dick tied the next strip of bandages tight, and explosions blossomed behind Jason's eyes. Blood roared in his ears as black seized his vision.
"-kay.. okay, I'm done. It's over." Jason's back arched, bare foot kicking into the vacant footwell as he bit back a cry. "Easy, little wing." Jason swallowed against the pain. "I'm done"
"Need to go..."
"Yes, we do."
Jason heard the door click shut, the car rumble to life. He lost a thick chunk of time, spots swimming by, the world coming in and out with fiery rivulets of pain.
"Almost there, Jay." Dick assured, reaching one hand over to grip his little brother's. Jason had gotten used to Dick's clinginess over the two weeks at Ma's. He wasn't embarrassed in the least to tightly cling back, using it as an outlet for his pain.
"M'tired."
"I know. We'll get you fixed up and in bed with a warm blanket. I promise."
Jason hummed noncommittally. He wasn't sure if he could make it.
"Like heck you won't." Dick vehemently snapped, this time with a soft enough tone to keep Jason from jumping in surprise. "You are gonna make it or I'll drag you back from hell and kill you myself. Again."
Jason huffed a laugh.
Once he'd wrangled his half conscious little brother inside the dingy apartment complex where Jason kept one of his hideaways, Dick dragged him up the eight flights of stairs and located his safe house. Jason was sagging, hand limply hanging at his side, eyes half lidded, breath coming out in pained grunts.
With every step, his little brother's strength seeped out. He was growing weaker, barely clinging to hazy consciousness, barely able to walk because of the mind numbing pain. Dick found himself taking more and more weight. He opened the safehouse door and spotted the bloody couch where Jason had probably spent many night patching himself up.
Gently, Dick eased the injured bird onto the couch. He marveled -not for the first time- at how well Jason kept his stuff in order, not a knife, gun, or scrap of clothing in place. Unlike some of them, Jason took relatively good care of himself... aside from the injuries. "Come on, Jaybird." Dick soothed. "You're home. You're safe. Let's lay back so I can take a look at you, alright?"
Jason nodded numbly, nearly falling over without Dick's support. The older bird stepped back in, hands supporting his back and head, putting minimal stress on his ribs and neck.
He didn't protest as Dick cut the upper half of his suit away with a knife from Jason's living room coffee table, revealing his bruised and scar littered chest. The oldest and first retired robin sucked in a breath. "Alright... That's a lot of bruising." He sighed out, calming, focusing. "I'm gonna fix you up, okay?" He repeated yet again, fingers lightly brushing the bangs from Jason's eyes.
Jason nodded jerkily. "Alright, gotta check for broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging." Dick murmured, pressing Jason's sides and ribs with blood caked fingers, carefully, adeptly. "Ribs are bruised... maybe a few cracks. I'll wrap them." He moved down, pressing Jason's stomach. It didn't hurt half as bad as the ribs, but his fingers did press against a bruise. He jerked under Dick's fingers. "Okay, okay...No internal bleeding... that I can tell. We still need to patch up the rest of you." Jason sucked in a breath and grabbed Dick's wrist. "Got... a... kit...under... sink."
Dick nodded, face a mask of firm resolution, taking Jason's hand and squeezing it before placing it firmly against the couch. "Don't try to move. I'll be back."
It was only twenty minutes later that Dick had hooked him up to a blood bag, which Jason kept in a cooler under the sink. Then he'd started the agonizing process of extracting the bullet. His brother was too weak to do little more than twitch and shudder under Dick's ministrations, his cries of pain and agonized cursing had faded into an occasional moan or whimper.
Something told Dick that he should have called Bruce. But he didn't. He didn't ask Bruce for help; because if Jason had wanted to cave, he would have called Bruce instead. Besides, while Dick had forgiven Bruce for his reaction to Jason's return... he didn't trust the bat to handle this situation well. Neither did Jason. If Dick had needed any help whatsoever, he'd have called an ambulance before he forced Jason to go to the cave against his will.
Dick told himself he had it handled. When he finished wrapping Jason's ribs, he gently laid his little brother flat against the ratty couch and set ice packs on his shoulders."Nnnhun..." Jason moaned with a shiver.
"I know." Dick muttered softly, pulling a blanket up to Jason's chest and tucking it in. "I know it's cold. It'll help though."
Jason's eyes cracked open weakly, a soft groan catching in his throat, only stopped by pure determination. "Thnks..." He slurred, eyes catching Dick's eyes.
"You're welcome." Dick assured, lightly patting his good leg. "Now get some rest."
If Jason thought he'd been hurting the night before, he was in agony the next morning. He woke up on the couch, shoulders sore and stiff. He couldn't move anything without pain causing his teeth to grind together.
He bit through the agony, pressing his elbows into the spongy fabric and heaving himself up. His chest and sides constricted under a layer of itchy bandages, leg stinging as he threw it over the edge of the couch. Just that effort left his head swimming. He breathed out a whimper, dragging his feet under him and finding some poor excuse for balance. His foot scraped against the wooden planks of his apartment floor.
Every time he took a step, his leg wobbled and tried to give out. He made it about three feet from couch before his knee refused to accept anymore pain from his ravaged leg. It gave out.
Before he could hit the ground, warm arms grabbed him from the side, wrapping around his biceps and pinning his arms to his sides. "Oop! I gotch'ya." Jason heaved out a gasp of pain as the arms kept him from faceplanting, putting unpleasant pressure on his sides.
"Who-"
His face was pressed into someone's shoulder. They smelled like cinnamon, meaning he was in the presence of one Dick Grayson. He cracked his eyes open and found Dick hefting him up. "Just me. You called remember?"
"Not really."
"Hn." Dick dragged him back to the couch, helping him sit. Jason refused help from that point on, remaining in a reclined yet half sitting position. "You somehow managed to call me with both arms pinned behind your back." There was a hint of pride in his voice. "You were really roughed up. Not surprised your memory decided to play hookie." Dick's face softened, hand coming to rest on his knee. 'How you feeling, little brother?"
"I'm fine."
"And Bruce is Santa Clause." Dick deadpanned. "How bad's the pain?"
Jason sighed. "My arms are on fire, ribs feeling someone's driving a knife into 'em, and something's seriously wrong with my leg."
"Complete dislocation of both shoulders. I popped them back in and used ice packs to bring the swelling down. Your ribs are cracked and bruised, but no serious breaks... yet. And someone shot you in the leg."
"Oh." Dick nodded, squeezing his good knee and standing up.
"Yeah. I'm going to get you something to eat."
"You don't have to-. I mean, I wasn't really thinking straight when I called-"
"Shush." Dick cut him off, vanishing into the kitchen. "I'm glad you weren't thinking straight then. You needed help. I honestly don't think the mighty red hood should be dying in a phone booth."
Jason sat quietly, listening to the clanking of pots and pans at his back. He'd be kidding himself if he wondered why Dick was there. It was a pleasant surprise, considering he had the vague impression he'd relapsed mentally in some way the night before. He always wondered, if he had needed Dick's help, whether or not the big bird would actually deliver... and now Dick had. It was amazing.
He still felt bad about dragging Dick away from whatever he'd been doing; but a selfish part of him was glad Dick had come. He squashed that feeling away.
Dick returned with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. Jason's hands may have been shaking; but he drew the line at letting other people feed him. It was a slow and agonizing process, but he managed to level spoons of surprisingly tasty soup into his mouth.
"Dick..." He mumbled past a mouthful. "Thankyou. I... I appreciate you coming to help. I... wasn't sure if..."
The first boy wonder studied the sincerity on Jason's face, feeling his heart break a little at the hesitancy. Jason still doubted him?
"I told you to call me. I told you I'd come. And I mean it." Dick huffed, gently, ruffling Jason's hair. The retired second robin smiled slightly, ducking his head. "Now... I hate to ask, but what happened last night?"
Jason's brow pinched in thought. "I was jumped. No fighting, no games. They approached me and said they had hostages. Didn't give me much choice. They beat me up, planned on drowning me, but the hostages got turned loose. So I jumped into the harbor. It was too dark for them to see me. I crawled out not far away and ran until I couldn't."
"Hmm. Not the typical riff raft then."
"Hnn. Hired guns. There's a bounty on my head."
"No surprise there." Dick nodded. "I'll take the couch."
"Pardon?"
"They aren't playing around, Jay." The oldest Robin pointed out. "And until the matter's been resolved, you need someone to watch your back. Think about it, you got away too easy."
Jason snapped his jaw shut, the cogs in his brain working furiously.
"Wait..."
It hit them both at the same time. "You don't think this was their plan all along... Do you?"
"Little-wing, you may not be the only target." Dick acquiesced. "And you're injured."
"Fine fine."
And it was settled.
TBC