[ The last of his customers have finally rolled out for the night, leaving the gym well-used and silent as Dick heads upstairs to the studio loft above, limbs aching and head spinning. What he wants to do is soak in a bath for an hour and work out all the tension at his own pace but the sun has fallen behind most of the skyline and Bludhaven is a golden-red city, coveting its last hour of dusk before nightfall. Dick has work to do ... other than his daytime job, that is. No rest for the vigilante lifestyle.
He spends ten minutes rooting through his apartment for Nightwing's gear, thrown wherever he felt like it after patrol last night, and has his boots on with the suit hanging around his waist when he hears a noise coming from the roof. A clatter. Another. Deliberate, he quickly surmises, yanking on his suit and mask and picking up a stray escrima stick as he backs himself into the middle of the lounge; it's the widest open space in the whole loft, he can defend himself better away from walls, able to move.
More confidently than he feels, he calls, ] Who's there? Show yourself unless you like to eat polymer.
[ Not only did Jason get kicked in the face last night, of course not. It isn't about the split nose he has, or the black eye, reminding him to pad his helmets better from now on. No, he also got kicked in the face by Bruce. Bruce . Bruce who he had revealed his identity to a few months back. Bruce who had died, or faked his death like a Bat would. Bruce who had been oh so sorry for what had happened to Jason, just seemed to have forgotten about it and kicked him in the fucking face like he was some lowlife mugger in an alley.
It had ended in Jason disappearing into one of his safe-houses to investigate the comeback of the Bat, but -- not a single entry could be found. In fact he - apparently - never even died.
In fact, Jason, the Arkham Knight, didn't even fucking exist. His crusade. His work. His life. For nothing?
It's because of this that, the next day, Jason finds himself investigating his so-called family even more, finding nothing that'd help understand the situation. He needs answers, answers he's not gonna get from the Bat. He'd never think of approaching his replacement, too sure he'd shoot him right away. Barbara must be with the replacement 24/7 due to being his fiancee, so she was a no-go as well. Who better to approach then his favorite big poser of a brother then?
By now Jason finds himself on top of Dick's apartment, more anxious than he'd ever admit, because well -- he hadn't faced the man ever since the Joker took him all these years back. He swallows the feeling when he hears Dick calling out to the intruder. Huh.
A sudden wave of anger shoots through Jason, both caused by last night's events as well as his "brother's" annoying confidence, and he snaps.
Jason, now calling himself the Red Hood, walks towards the edge of the roof and jumps, holding on to the building as he kicks in the window, landing on one knee in the middle of the room where a certain bird stands, threatening him.
Jason looks up at him and rises slowly, fingers aching to grab his guns, but he's more curious about the other man's reaction to him in the first place. Besides, he doesn't feel threatened by a messily clothed, barely prepped circus freak. ]
[ Barely prepped circus freak who only stops himself smacking the shit out of that helmet when the garbled voice registers, the new design of ... well, everything, throwing Dick off long enough that a beat of silence is his answer. ]
... Jason?
[ Despite the melodramatic entry, the tension in Dick's shoulders eases and he straightens from a defensive crouch, glancing between Jason and his now shattered window. Quite aside from taking Jason as a threat seriously, Dick plants a hand on a hip and gestures to all the glass on the floor. ]
You know, I have a door to my actual home, which this happens to be! What's gotten into you? This had better be urgent.
[ Jason frowns underneath the helmet when Dick loosens up his stance. He shouldn't be surprised given the situation, but-- he couldn't help it. It pissed him off. Dick was one of the people who let him down, and he was fucking pissed at the man, and he wasn't even supposed to know Jason was alive! Yet he stands there, like it was no surprise, like he saw him just the other day. That was wrong. It was so, so wrong.
Jason scoffs and doesn't even care about Dick going off about the windows. He is visibly tense and says, voice on the verge of turning into something vile, ]
When did you find out it's me? And why is he still alive?
[ Squinting through his mask, he cocks his head in confusion. What sorts of questions are those? It briefly crosses his mind that Jason could be drunk or intoxicated in some other way, but that feels off somehow. ]
No offense but the red hood kind of gives it away, Red Hood. Who are you talking about? Jay, take off the helmet.
He widens his eyes for a second, right before gritting his teeth at the thought.
Dick had never seen him. Never seen his face, and even if, for some reason, he knew who he was - that didn't fucking mean Jason was anything close to ready for that. Not now. Not with -- with the scar.
He reaches for his gun and points it at the other man, voice still low behind the distortion, ]
What happened to the Arkham Knight, Dick? What happened to me?!
[ Tensing up under gunpoint, he slowly sheathes an escrima stick and holds out a hand as if to calm Jason down. The other man hasn't been this bad in years, it's unnerving to see that sort of regression. More so than the gun pointed at his face, in a way. ]
I don't know who the Arkham Knight is, you're going to use your words instead of guns. What do you think has happened to you, Jay? Can you tell me?
[ He doesn't know what to say, or what to do. He hadn't really thought about it either. Revealing himself like this was never his plan, but now that he knows for sure somethings definitely off, Jason's at a loss.
Should he leave and keep investigating? A good idea, but it wouldn't help him at all. His best chance at finding out what the hell was going on was Dick, and the man was right. Killing or hurting him won't do that job. Not completely, at least.
But how would he start? How would he explain what he'd achieved in one sentence?
He reluctantly lowers the gun, but his grip on it tightens and he doesn't holster it yet. Instead he takes a step towards the man, wildly gesturing with the gun in hand; ]
I was the Knight. I took over Gotham! Bruce died! After he left me to die at the hands of the Joker!
[ He feels himself begin to shake just slightly. Saying all that, it made him... vulnerable. ]
[ Literally none of what Jason says makes sense; except for if Dick puts it in the weird context of those waking dreams he was forced to suffer a year ago, the ones Clark helped pull him through. A bunch of different Dick Graysons ... and Wally, he had insisted people here were different, that Linda didn't know him at all.
Dick peels off his mask to toss it aside, wide blue eyes on Jason. Noticing the tremors in that bulk. Tim or Damian would have preferred to knock Jason out and lock him in the Batcave (and they would have been right to, like this they're no match for him) but Dick doesn't want to fail him again. It's almost a personal bar of integrity not to, these days. ]
It's going to be okay, Jason. I promise. We can stay here for as long as you need, just the two of us. Me and you.
[ Dick's expression can't be read, but seeing his lips part tells Jason that the man is clearly caught off guard. And when he tells Jason it'd be fine, that they could talk -- he just feels lost.
The man had no idea what he was talking about, that much was sure. But being caught in this situation makes him nervous, big time. He isn't sure if he lost or gained more in this.
Jason takes a breath and steps back, hesitating. He starts to pace in the room, thinking, before coming to a stop several feet away from the other. ]
No. No, it's your turn now. Tell me who I am. Tell me!
[ As long as Jason doesn't start shooting up Dick or the apartment, things are going better than expected. ]
You're Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne, the Red Hood of the Outlaws. You're my little brother, [ Jason can do cartwheels over that but Dick doesn't care, he means it, ] the second robin ... and you died when the Joker kidnapped you, but you came back to us. You're part of the family.
That's the Jason I know, but I think we've got some issues with time and space right now. I'll have to call Wally to figure this out. Will you let me do that?
He stops, just looking at the man. What he says is wrong on so many levels. It's just not what fucking happened! ]
No. No, that's not who I am! You have no fucking idea! Just like Bruce!
[ It does make sense, though. Jason just doesn't like the idea of it. Once the other man says he'd have to call a speedster, Jason aims his gun at him again. In a low tone; ]
No. You ain't gonna call no one. You and I are gonna have a talk now, Dickie. Alone.
[ He moves fast and closes all the (remaining) windows, then shuts all the blinds.
He turns to the other vigilante and uses his gun-hand to point at a nearby chair. He'd have to make sure Dick wouldn't make a dumb move and tie him. ]
Sit down. Put the weapons down and kick them towards me.
[ His patience starts to fray, jaw setting as Jason starts flailing his firearm around again. ]
You're not going to shoot me, Jason.
[ He can force himself to believe that if necessary. If he's wrong, well ... Dick's fast. ]
We're both confused right now, so let's sit down and talk. I'm not putting my weapons away when my potential opponent is a guy with guns, you know I won't. Please. Please, just trust me.
[ Startled by the gun going off, Dick holds his ground and stares at him for a long moment. He takes a seat purely to put Jason at ease but doesn't look happy about it, arms folding.
Mutinously, he adds in an undertone. ]
Told you, you wouldn't shoot me. [ And he waits, staring across the room with blue eyes locked on with lasers. ] I know you better than you think, Jason, no matter where you came from.
[ Jason secretly sighs in relief, not that he'd admit it. Dick let him down, yes, but he doesn't want to hurt him. He doesn't deserve it like Bruce does. -- Which doesn't mean that Jason wouldn't, if he had to.
He immediately approaches the other man and uses his knife to cut off the broken lamp's power cord. He then ties Dick's wrists behind his back, abandoning his sticks on the bed several feet away from them.
When he's done, Jason grabs another chair and places it in front of his brother's, its backrest fronting the man as Jason sits down on it. ]
You think you know me?
[ he asks, fingers tightening around the handle of his gun.
He then moves his one hand to turn off his helmet's security, barely thinking when slowly taking it off to reveal venomous green eyes and an ugly, J-shaped scar on his left cheek. ]
You're wrong, Dick. If you really did, you would've run.
[ If Jason thinks that assaulting the poor lamp and tying Dick up in his own apartment is a good idea, he's too stressed to be thinking things through. What he wants is the veneer of control, he has to be reassuring himself Dick isn't a threat for some reason other than the usual ...
That reason becomes clear as the hood is removed, leaving a scarred, harsher version of the Jason he knows glaring back at him. Sympathy fills Dick from head to toe, leaning forward despite the snarled threats. Jason looks like a battered dog off the streets. ]
[ Jason barks a laugh at Dick's response. His claim is so untrue that it's funny, in the most cynical kind of way. ]
You mean like you left me behind, Dick? Like you all left me to rot in Arkham?
[ He understands that this might not be his reality, but he can't help it. Jason feels as if he might be able to make things right other than destroying Gotham City, if only his emotions wouldn't get in the way. His voice is low when he speaks, getting louder with every sentence, eyes directed at the other's; ]
The Joker took me is what happened. You and Bruce didn't give a shit is what happened. You left me to be tortured and broken! For over a year! With him.
[ Dick leaning in isn't expected; but Jason mimics the gesture if only to intimidate him. ]
You replaced me is what fucking happened! And now you claim you know and care for me? Well, fuck! Found the mistake yet?
[ He sighs after that and backs off again. That's really not what he should worry about now. What was his goal here anyway? But Dick makes it so fucking hard to not get angry with his-- his stupid face and his stupid eyes pretending to be concerned. ]
[ He doesn't look frightened, concern edging the wide whites of his eyes as he listens and his heart breaks for the broken man in front of him. Kidnapped to the Asylum and kept by the Joker? No wonder ... ]
No wonder you hate us.
[ Dick's gaze drops as he shakes his head, glancing up with the borrowed shame he's sure his alternate feels. ]
... I'm so sorry, Jason. I'm not the Dick you know, but I'd bet on him hating himself too for letting that happen to you.
[ He hates it. Hates how the other man looks at him. Doesn't want the pity. But what'd he think anyway? What'd he expect? ]
It was still you. [ His voice dropped once again, leaving him with nothing but desperation and confusion.
What follows is a stretched silence from his end, eyes moving across the whole room.
So if this is some sort of situation where he got out of his own reality and into this new one, what does that mean?
Can he get back? Is there another him? Does he want to get back?
Thoughts flood his mind, thoughts that both relief and infuriate him. For one it means that he never hurt the people he cares for like he did. Maybe it means that he has a family. It could mean that he could start over.
On the other hand, all his work would be lost. The years he trained, the sacrifices he made to achieve his plan. All the agony he went through, all the torture, for nothing. No one would remember him as the person he used to be. And he especially would have no right to hate his "family" like he does. It could also mean that he was still alive, which made Jason's jaw tense so much it hurt.
He can't deal with any of this. Having Dick tied up doesn't help his cause. Being mad at him doesn't help either. But Jason just really, really couldn't help himself. ]
What happened here, then? Is the Joker still alive? Am-- am I?
[ Luckily for Jason, his older brother is probably the only person who would accept responsibility for failing him across the multiverse. Dick sits up with comical surprise, latent alarm making him suck in a breath. ]
Oh my god, I should check he's still here. What if you switched? Jason, untie me right now, I have to make a call.
( It's 3AM. Usually, he was still out with his mask on and pistols blazing around this time, but the past couple of nights had ended early. Or rather, he had ended them early. He'd crossed paths too many times with Batman on the rooftops in the last three days, and while he wasn't scared of Batman or whatever stupid rules he wanted to shove down Gotham's throat, there was something to say for how Batman could make you feel. Even behind the lenses of a cowl, there was something in his expression, that constant sound of disapproval (or maybe it was disappointment?) in his voice and slant of his lips.
It was a constant reminder that no matter what costume he had on his back, he'd never live up to whatever ridiculous standard Batman had set for him. For them. Because at the end of the day, they all felt that pressure, didn't they? Dick was supposed to be the golden child, Tim expected to think and not feel, Damian had to twist and mold his morality to something else entirely, and for him? He was the original fuck up. He was the one who couldn't be Dick or be better than him, and Bruce never let him forget it. His methods were too violent, he was getting involved with the wrong people, there was always something. And truthfully, it was exhausting.
It was why Jason had called it early the past few nights. He was tired of the looks, tired of the warnings, just tired. And sitting alone in a diner with only the sound of the waitress humming some tune as she refilled his glass gave him any real peace. At least, the first two nights. On the third, Jason felt restless even here. More alone than he usually did with a familiar itch of annoyance under his skin that only Batman could put there. He'd resisted the urge for two days to pick up his phone and text someone and ask for some company, but now he knew it was what he needed. He should call Roy or Kory, hell, he could even go chill somewhere with Croc. But instead, his finger hovered over Dick's number. He stared at it for who knew how long, kept putting his phone down before picking it back up.
In the end, he wasn't able to stop himself. Of all the names he had on his phone to call, Dick's was the one that kept drawing his attention. The one that made his stomach flutter awkwardly once he'd finally sent the text. And geez, if there was anyone he shouldn't feel that way about, it was Dick. )
[ With the 'haven quieter than ever, it was inevitable Dick would get dragged back to Gotham for a couple of weeks to help out, especially when Bruce made the effort to actually call. A text would have been enough but the sound of Bruce's voice must have had a Pavlovian response effect on Dick's brain because before he knew it he was back at the train station in Gotham City, a carry-all slung over a shoulder and a sigh in his heart. That was a week ago. He's been staying at the manor, which has been weirdly fun (mostly because of Alfred being so pleased to see him around) and admittedly nicer than renting out a shitty apartment. It's just, Dick expected to see more of, well, everyone, but Tim is a ghost in the wind, Damian is going through whatever stage of puberty makes him irritable on levels somehow previously unknown, and Jason is ... Jason. Barbara is tied up in her own investigations and even Steph and Cas are busy, so Dick has been lonelier than he anticipated.
Jason's text is a ray of sunlight, never mind that Dick is crouched atop a nightclub in the shadows between neon signs, shivering a little in his suit. He replies almost immediately. ]
( Jason wasn't sure what he was expecting here. Dick wasn't the type to ignore a text from any of the batfamily, especially not when he was here in Gotham, probably miserable staying with Bruce. But the immediate response had Jason raising a brow. )
24 hour diner down the street from wayne tower. you coming?
( He imagined Dick was tucked somewhere, suited up playing hero, but an offer of food on a quiet night might be enough to coax him into changing and joining him. )
[ Shit, he is on his way with all the swings and flips, switching voice to text transmission. Fortunately for Jason that means he gets actual words to read because the suit's tech isn't a tween girl like Dick. ]
On my way! Not busy with B at all, actually. I thought he needed me here to help out but apparently I'm just picking up the slack while he's deep in whatever case he's working on, you know how he is. Why are are you in a diner?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
( for ak!jay )
He spends ten minutes rooting through his apartment for Nightwing's gear, thrown wherever he felt like it after patrol last night, and has his boots on with the suit hanging around his waist when he hears a noise coming from the roof. A clatter. Another. Deliberate, he quickly surmises, yanking on his suit and mask and picking up a stray escrima stick as he backs himself into the middle of the lounge; it's the widest open space in the whole loft, he can defend himself better away from walls, able to move.
More confidently than he feels, he calls, ] Who's there? Show yourself unless you like to eat polymer.
Re: ( for ak!jay )
No, he also got kicked in the face by Bruce. Bruce . Bruce who he had revealed his identity to a few months back. Bruce who had died, or faked his death like a Bat would. Bruce who had been oh so sorry for what had happened to Jason, just seemed to have forgotten about it and kicked him in the fucking face like he was some lowlife mugger in an alley.
It had ended in Jason disappearing into one of his safe-houses to investigate the comeback of the Bat, but -- not a single entry could be found. In fact he - apparently - never even died.
In fact, Jason, the Arkham Knight, didn't even fucking exist. His crusade. His work. His life. For nothing?
It's because of this that, the next day, Jason finds himself investigating his so-called family even more, finding nothing that'd help understand the situation. He needs answers, answers he's not gonna get from the Bat. He'd never think of approaching his replacement, too sure he'd shoot him right away. Barbara must be with the replacement 24/7 due to being his fiancee, so she was a no-go as well. Who better to approach then his favorite big poser of a brother then?
By now Jason finds himself on top of Dick's apartment, more anxious than he'd ever admit, because well -- he hadn't faced the man ever since the Joker took him all these years back. He swallows the feeling when he hears Dick calling out to the intruder. Huh.
A sudden wave of anger shoots through Jason, both caused by last night's events as well as his "brother's" annoying confidence, and he snaps.
Jason, now calling himself the Red Hood, walks towards the edge of the roof and jumps, holding on to the building as he kicks in the window, landing on one knee in the middle of the room where a certain bird stands, threatening him.
Jason looks up at him and rises slowly, fingers aching to grab his guns, but he's more curious about the other man's reaction to him in the first place. Besides, he doesn't feel threatened by a messily clothed, barely prepped circus freak. ]
Am I late for your yoga class, Mr. Grayson?
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... Jason?
[ Despite the melodramatic entry, the tension in Dick's shoulders eases and he straightens from a defensive crouch, glancing between Jason and his now shattered window. Quite aside from taking Jason as a threat seriously, Dick plants a hand on a hip and gestures to all the glass on the floor. ]
You know, I have a door to my actual home, which this happens to be! What's gotten into you? This had better be urgent.
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He shouldn't be surprised given the situation, but-- he couldn't help it. It pissed him off. Dick was one of the people who let him down, and he was fucking pissed at the man, and he wasn't even supposed to know Jason was alive! Yet he stands there, like it was no surprise, like he saw him just the other day. That was wrong. It was so, so wrong.
Jason scoffs and doesn't even care about Dick going off about the windows. He is visibly tense and says, voice on the verge of turning into something vile, ]
When did you find out it's me? And why is he still alive?
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No offense but the red hood kind of gives it away, Red Hood. Who are you talking about? Jay, take off the helmet.
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He widens his eyes for a second, right before gritting his teeth at the thought.
Dick had never seen him. Never seen his face, and even if, for some reason, he knew who he was - that didn't fucking mean Jason was anything close to ready for that. Not now. Not with -- with the scar.
He reaches for his gun and points it at the other man, voice still low behind the distortion, ]
What happened to the Arkham Knight, Dick? What happened to me?!
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[ Tensing up under gunpoint, he slowly sheathes an escrima stick and holds out a hand as if to calm Jason down. The other man hasn't been this bad in years, it's unnerving to see that sort of regression. More so than the gun pointed at his face, in a way. ]
I don't know who the Arkham Knight is, you're going to use your words instead of guns. What do you think has happened to you, Jay? Can you tell me?
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Should he leave and keep investigating? A good idea, but it wouldn't help him at all. His best chance at finding out what the hell was going on was Dick, and the man was right. Killing or hurting him won't do that job. Not completely, at least.
But how would he start? How would he explain what he'd achieved in one sentence?
He reluctantly lowers the gun, but his grip on it tightens and he doesn't holster it yet. Instead he takes a step towards the man, wildly gesturing with the gun in hand; ]
I was the Knight. I took over Gotham! Bruce died! After he left me to die at the hands of the Joker!
[ He feels himself begin to shake just slightly. Saying all that, it made him... vulnerable. ]
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Dick peels off his mask to toss it aside, wide blue eyes on Jason. Noticing the tremors in that bulk. Tim or Damian would have preferred to knock Jason out and lock him in the Batcave (and they would have been right to, like this they're no match for him) but Dick doesn't want to fail him again. It's almost a personal bar of integrity not to, these days. ]
It's going to be okay, Jason. I promise. We can stay here for as long as you need, just the two of us. Me and you.
Tell me, do you know how you got to Bludhaven?
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The man had no idea what he was talking about, that much was sure. But being caught in this situation makes him nervous, big time. He isn't sure if he lost or gained more in this.
Jason takes a breath and steps back, hesitating. He starts to pace in the room, thinking, before coming to a stop several feet away from the other. ]
No. No, it's your turn now. Tell me who I am. Tell me!
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You're Jason Todd, son of Bruce Wayne, the Red Hood of the Outlaws. You're my little brother, [ Jason can do cartwheels over that but Dick doesn't care, he means it, ] the second robin ... and you died when the Joker kidnapped you, but you came back to us. You're part of the family.
That's the Jason I know, but I think we've got some issues with time and space right now. I'll have to call Wally to figure this out. Will you let me do that?
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He stops, just looking at the man. What he says is wrong on so many levels. It's just not what fucking happened! ]
No. No, that's not who I am! You have no fucking idea! Just like Bruce!
[ It does make sense, though. Jason just doesn't like the idea of it.
Once the other man says he'd have to call a speedster, Jason aims his gun at him again. In a low tone; ]
No. You ain't gonna call no one. You and I are gonna have a talk now, Dickie. Alone.
[ He moves fast and closes all the (remaining) windows, then shuts all the blinds.
He turns to the other vigilante and uses his gun-hand to point at a nearby chair. He'd have to make sure Dick wouldn't make a dumb move and tie him. ]
Sit down. Put the weapons down and kick them towards me.
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You're not going to shoot me, Jason.
[ He can force himself to believe that if necessary. If he's wrong, well ... Dick's fast. ]
We're both confused right now, so let's sit down and talk. I'm not putting my weapons away when my potential opponent is a guy with guns, you know I won't. Please. Please, just trust me.
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[ He spits, gun still aimed at his opponent. ]
Why should I trust you?
[ Jason scoffs, the anger within just rising. He can't and won't, too much has happened, too much seems to be lost to just calm down.
You don't know me,
[ he growls, not hesitating when he shoots a round just inches away from Dick, hitting a nearby lamp. ]
You have no fucking idea what I'm capable of. So do yourself the favor and sit the fuck down.
[ His stance is tense, his voice just above a whisper. ]
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Mutinously, he adds in an undertone. ]
Told you, you wouldn't shoot me. [ And he waits, staring across the room with blue eyes locked on with lasers. ] I know you better than you think, Jason, no matter where you came from.
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He immediately approaches the other man and uses his knife to cut off the broken lamp's power cord. He then ties Dick's wrists behind his back, abandoning his sticks on the bed several feet away from them.
When he's done, Jason grabs another chair and places it in front of his brother's, its backrest fronting the man as Jason sits down on it. ]
You think you know me?
[ he asks, fingers tightening around the handle of his gun.
He then moves his one hand to turn off his helmet's security, barely thinking when slowly taking it off to reveal venomous green eyes and an ugly, J-shaped scar on his left cheek. ]
You're wrong, Dick. If you really did, you would've run.
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[ If Jason thinks that assaulting the poor lamp and tying Dick up in his own apartment is a good idea, he's too stressed to be thinking things through. What he wants is the veneer of control, he has to be reassuring himself Dick isn't a threat for some reason other than the usual ...
That reason becomes clear as the hood is removed, leaving a scarred, harsher version of the Jason he knows glaring back at him. Sympathy fills Dick from head to toe, leaning forward despite the snarled threats. Jason looks like a battered dog off the streets. ]
What happened to you, Jay?
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You mean like you left me behind, Dick? Like you all left me to rot in Arkham?
[ He understands that this might not be his reality, but he can't help it. Jason feels as if he might be able to make things right other than destroying Gotham City, if only his emotions wouldn't get in the way.
His voice is low when he speaks, getting louder with every sentence, eyes directed at the other's; ]
The Joker took me is what happened. You and Bruce didn't give a shit is what happened. You left me to be tortured and broken! For over a year! With him.
[ Dick leaning in isn't expected; but Jason mimics the gesture if only to intimidate him. ]
You replaced me is what fucking happened! And now you claim you know and care for me? Well, fuck! Found the mistake yet?
[ He sighs after that and backs off again. That's really not what he should worry about now. What was his goal here anyway? But Dick makes it so fucking hard to not get angry with his-- his stupid face and his stupid eyes pretending to be concerned. ]
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No wonder you hate us.
[ Dick's gaze drops as he shakes his head, glancing up with the borrowed shame he's sure his alternate feels. ]
... I'm so sorry, Jason. I'm not the Dick you know, but I'd bet on him hating himself too for letting that happen to you.
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It was still you. [ His voice dropped once again, leaving him with nothing but desperation and confusion.
What follows is a stretched silence from his end, eyes moving across the whole room.
So if this is some sort of situation where he got out of his own reality and into this new one, what does that mean?
Can he get back? Is there another him? Does he want to get back?
Thoughts flood his mind, thoughts that both relief and infuriate him. For one it means that he never hurt the people he cares for like he did. Maybe it means that he has a family. It could mean that he could start over.
On the other hand, all his work would be lost. The years he trained, the sacrifices he made to achieve his plan. All the agony he went through, all the torture, for nothing. No one would remember him as the person he used to be. And he especially would have no right to hate his "family" like he does. It could also mean that he was still alive, which made Jason's jaw tense so much it hurt.
He can't deal with any of this. Having Dick tied up doesn't help his cause. Being mad at him doesn't help either. But Jason just really, really couldn't help himself. ]
What happened here, then? Is the Joker still alive? Am-- am I?
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Oh my god, I should check he's still here. What if you switched? Jason, untie me right now, I have to make a call.
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sorry i'm late, i got swamped irl!
(no subject)
slams this down here
It was a constant reminder that no matter what costume he had on his back, he'd never live up to whatever ridiculous standard Batman had set for him. For them. Because at the end of the day, they all felt that pressure, didn't they? Dick was supposed to be the golden child, Tim expected to think and not feel, Damian had to twist and mold his morality to something else entirely, and for him? He was the original fuck up. He was the one who couldn't be Dick or be better than him, and Bruce never let him forget it. His methods were too violent, he was getting involved with the wrong people, there was always something. And truthfully, it was exhausting.
It was why Jason had called it early the past few nights. He was tired of the looks, tired of the warnings, just tired. And sitting alone in a diner with only the sound of the waitress humming some tune as she refilled his glass gave him any real peace. At least, the first two nights. On the third, Jason felt restless even here. More alone than he usually did with a familiar itch of annoyance under his skin that only Batman could put there. He'd resisted the urge for two days to pick up his phone and text someone and ask for some company, but now he knew it was what he needed. He should call Roy or Kory, hell, he could even go chill somewhere with Croc. But instead, his finger hovered over Dick's number. He stared at it for who knew how long, kept putting his phone down before picking it back up.
In the end, he wasn't able to stop himself. Of all the names he had on his phone to call, Dick's was the one that kept drawing his attention. The one that made his stomach flutter awkwardly once he'd finally sent the text. And geez, if there was anyone he shouldn't feel that way about, it was Dick. )
gc diner? got a booth
no subject
Jason's text is a ray of sunlight, never mind that Dick is crouched atop a nightclub in the shadows between neon signs, shivering a little in his suit. He replies almost immediately. ]
:D j!!
hi where r u? what's goin on??
no subject
24 hour diner down the street from wayne tower. you coming?
( He imagined Dick was tucked somewhere, suited up playing hero, but an offer of food on a quiet night might be enough to coax him into changing and joining him. )
or you too busy with b?
no subject
On my way!
Not busy with B at all, actually. I thought he needed me here to help out but apparently I'm just picking up the slack while he's deep in whatever case he's working on, you know how he is.
Why are are you in a diner?