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There was no greeting.
“I can’t find him.” Dick Grayson gasped, as soon as Jason accepted the transmission. “Hood – Jay – Robin’s gone.”
And on a normal night, Jason couldn’t have cared less. He was Bruce’s blood and Dick’s problem, not his.
But the kid was still freshly resurrected, and there were rumours that the mother who killed him might be in town.
“You got a last location?” Jason asked. He still didn’t move from his rooftop smoke break, but he stood a little straighter, scanning the streets below him with a critical eye.
“First National.” Dick supplied. His voice was trembling in urgency, and for once Jason supposed he didn’t blame him. That kid was everything to the eldest of them, and even if he wasn’t, Damian suffered enough because of this godforsaken family. He didn’t need to go through something else, however big or small. “We were fighting Scarecrow, Robin, Red and I. A smoke bomb went off – no fear gas as far as we’re concerned – but when it cleared, he was gone.”
“And Scarecrow?”
“Him and all of his men were present and accounted for on scene.” Dick sighed.
“…Okay.” Jason hummed, tuning into the sound of a motorcycle a few blocks over. “Anything else that might set the kid off to run, that you can think of?”
“That’s the thing, I can’t think of anything.” Dick near-whined. “One second he was there, fighting between Tim and I, and the next? Poof.”
“And no fear gas.”
“None.” Dick confirmed. “I. I know you and Damian aren’t close, Jay. I know you and I aren’t close, and, really, this isn’t your problem but. If you see him, give me a call?
Jason tried not to be offended by the insinuation that he didn’t care about a kid who might be in trouble, tried to ignore that little pang in his heart, but failed just a little. He didn’t say anything to Dick, though. Just took a deep breath and asked:
“Guy he was fighting – anything special about him?”
“Not that I saw, though I don’t have to tell you I didn’t get a good look.” Dick admitted. “Typical henchman. Mask, knife, poor aim.”
Jason wasn’t moving, but he froze anyway.
“What kind of knife?” Jason asked calmly. “Pocket, dagger, sword?”
Dick hummed. “Maybe closer to a dagger? It was long enough that I saw the blade, in any case. And saw that it didn’t hit Damian.”
“Okay.” Jason repeated. “…Okay. Does the kid have anywhere he goes when he’s specifically upset?”
“I…I don’t know?” Dick admitted. “I mean, he used to come to my place, back before…you know, before everything. But after he died and then I pretended to…I honestly couldn’t tell you.” A pause. “…Jason, do you know where he is?”
“No.” Jason replied honestly, fixing his guns on his hips. “But I have an idea.” He sniffed. “Keep looking for the baby, ‘Wing. I’ll call you if I have anything.”
He hung up before Dick could corner him for information. And even as he did that, with his other hand, he grabbed his grapple and took off across the skyline.
He didn’t go to Dick’s apartment, despite that being the only lead Dick could give him. But instead went the other way, towards the other side of town. Where the animal shelter was.
Because yeah – Dick was right. Jason and Damian weren’t very close. But even Jason knew how much Damian loved those damn animals.
His hunch was proven right when he got a good two blocks away. He could see the lump huddled above the gargoyle, in the shadow of the ledge. Damian’s knees where curled to his chest, his hood was over his head. Jason couldn’t see his face, but through the zoom of the camera in his helmet, could see Damian’s shoulders trembling, just slightly.
Just as Jason thought.
He landed a few yards away. Gently, but loud enough that Damian would hear him, know him.
Damian twitched in recognition, but didn’t look up. Didn’t move out of his fetal position, even as Jason approached and sat down next to him, dangling his feet over the city below.
They sat there in silence for a few moments, before Jason couldn’t help but break it.
“You know,” Jason hummed, looking up into the smog-filled clouds. “You can’t get any comfort from those kitties and puppies inside up here.”
Damian immediately pulled a device out of his pocket and dropped it between them. A video feed from inside, full of sleeping kittens and puppies snuggled with their mamas.
“…I’ll go in before I leave.” Damian muttered anyway.
Jason smiled under his helmet, even as he lifted it off his head. “I bet you will.”
Damian sat there a moment longer, before lifting his head, and staring blankly at the building across the street.
“…What do you want, Todd?”
“I’m looking for you.” Jason said simply. “Dickie’s worried sick.”
“Well, then tell him I’m fine and that I’ll be home before sun up.” Damian returned boredly.
“You really think that’s going to fly, shortstack?” Jason snorted. Damian didn’t answer. Jason gave him a moment before sighing and leaning his elbows on his knees, balancing himself carefully as he looked back. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Damian returned the scoff. “What do you care.”
“I care because I’ve been there.” Jason countered immediately. “I’ve had those flashbacks at the worst possible time. I’ve been frozen to the spot because I think it’s happening again, and I’m terrified.”
Damian just kept his eyes low.
“Dickie doesn’t get it. I could tell when I talked to him.” Jason continued. “He didn’t see the similarity between that dagger you were dodging and the sword your clone ran you through with.”
“…And why would he?” Damian practically whispered. “He was unconscious when I died, remember?”
Of course Jason did. Just like Dick did, too.
“…It’s stupid.” Damian decided. “The blades didn’t even look similar.”
“They were both blades, and that’s enough.” Jason promised. “I mean, I still jump when I see just straight up sticks, thinking they’re crowbars.” A pause. “No one would judge you for the reaction.”
Damian averted his gaze, dropping his eyes to look at the street. “…It’s stupid.”
“It’s not.” Jason returned carefully. He looked Damian over, though, as much as he could. And he almost missed it – but that was blood on the tips of his gloves. “…Did you jump in front of Dick again tonight?”
Damian shrugged. “Old habits die hard, and watching his weak side was my job, once upon a time.”
“But not now.” Jason hummed, squinting his eyes as he continued to stare at the brown stains on Damian’s fingertips. Not enough to worry, but there was…something…
“If it makes you feel better, I jumped in front of Drake multiple times tonight, too.” Damian mumbled. “It wasn’t just because Grayson is – as you all say – my favorite.”
“Sure.” Jason replied distractedly. He’d have grabbed Damian’s hand if he knew the kid wouldn’t bolt. But…still…
Suddenly, Dick’s words floated back.
“It was long enough that I saw the blade, in any case. And saw that it didn’t hit Damian.”
Oh. Oh.
“You were…” Jason sat up, as Damian turned his head up to look at him quizzically. “That’s why you ran.”
Damian cocked an eyebrow. “What-”
“The knife hit you.” Jason cut off. “It wasn’t just because it was a blade, it was because you got stabbed again.”
Damian’s eyes immediately widened, and he jerked his head away, curling in on himself.
“It…it was nothing. It’s still stupid.” Damian rasped. “I…It shouldn’t have mattered. I shouldn’t be so weak, it’s barely a scratch, it.” Damian’s fingers suddenly twirled into fists. “I didn’t…I couldn’t let Grayson see.”
See Damian’s weakness, see Damian get hurt again. Damian could have meant a lot of different things, but none of it mattered.
“…It hit you in your chest again, didn’t it?” Jason asked gently, putting a hand on Damian’s shoulder. He was trembling again. “Let me see – just to make sure it’s as minimal as you think it is.”
Damian hesitated when Jason pulled, just for a second, but eventually relented, letting Jason twist him around to face him.
The Robin tunic was already open, yanked open from when Damian originally checked the wound, no doubt. His Kevlar was still in place, maybe pulled down just a little. And right at the top of it, across the top of Damian’s ribs, between his collarbones, was a gash.
It was relatively long, but not deep. Wouldn’t need stitches. The blood had already begun clotting, frankly, and Jason could see the smear of blood across Damian’s skin, from where his gloves ran across the cut when he touched it.
“It doesn’t even hurt.” Damian sighed. “It was an overreaction on my part.”
“It wasn’t.” Jason promised again, running his own fingers across the injury. He glanced down, just a little. The Kevlar blocked it, but Jason knew the scar from Damian’s death was still there, just out of sight. Just inches away from this new cut. “Seriously, kid – it’s not.”
Damian looked near hopefully up at him.
“Way back when, when I first came back. I’d do the same. I’d freak in the middle of a fight and run away. I’d scream and cry and just be a mess. Sometimes I’d stay sad. Other times I’d just get mad. Go and kill some people. Start fights, drink too much. Be completely self-destructive. All from just seeing something that might be a crowbar.”
“…And now?”
“Now I just mope. I still run away. Hide somewhere for a while. Go for a beer or two more than I need.” Jason shrugged. “Difference is, now people come after me.” He tried a smile. “Roy, Kory, Dick. Your dumb dad, sometimes.”
Damian’s eyes began to drop again.
“And no matter what you think,” Jason urged. “You have Dickie – and he’d fight the damn sun for you. He wouldn’t think anything of this. Wouldn’t think you’re weak or anything like that. And you have more than him, of course. You have your dad, that giant bat thing…and you have me.”
Damian’s head jerked up.
“Because I know what it’s like. I mean, how do you think I found you? I knew where you’d be. I knew why you disappeared without a word.” Jason smiled. “Us dead kids have to stick together, you know? Have each other’s back. Partners, like Batman and Robin, but cooler.” His grin grew. “Wingman and Red Bird, remember?”
Damian smiled at that. Small, shy, but a smile nonetheless.
“And we have to have each other’s backs.” Jason reiterated, tapping his finger against Damian’s chest. Feeling the steady heartbeat underneath. “We have to be there for each other, to remind each other.”
“…Of what?”
“That we’re alive.” Jason whispered. “That the world threw its worst at us, but we’re still here. That no swords or knives or sticks or crowbars can take us down.” A stop, to look at that cut one more time. “That I’m alive, and most importantly, you’re alive.”
Damian looked down at Jason’s hand against his chest.
“Being scared is fine. I’d rather you were, that means you’re still human, deep down in here.” Jason said. “But remember, it’s not a weakness, being scared of death. Being traumatized by the death you already had. This is proof right here that you beat it. They tried to take you out the same way, they tried to stab you through again, and I know for a hot second you probably thought you were dying again, but look at this – you’re still alive.”
Silence.
“You’re still alive, Damian.” Jason finished. “Even when the fear and the flashbacks are messing you up, just remember – you’re alive.” Another grin. “Biggest fuck you to the universe that I can think of, honestly. And the universe deserves a few.”
Damian kept staring at his chest, and then slowly, reached up and took hold of Jason’s wrist.
“…So are you.” He breathed, as he looked up at Jason. “So are you, Todd. And that’s just as important as me.”
Jason looked at him for a moment, the sincerity etched into those tanned cheeks, and smiled.
“If you say so.” He laughed, dropping his hand. “Now, come on. Nightwing’s about to lose his mind over you.”
And before Damian could respond, Jason reached out and grabbed him, lifting him up and pulling him into his arms.
“Todd!”
“Precaution.” Jason drawled, hanging on to Damian with one hand, as the younger scrambled to get his arms around Jason’s neck. “You’re alive, kiddo, and even if that cut isn’t that bad – I think we’d all like it if you stayed that way. Better safe than sorry, you know?”
Damian groaned as Jason hopped off the ledge, and the two disappeared into the Gotham night.