Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dealing with an emotional breakdown, seeing his ghost, and feeling the inevitability of a hopefully civil discussion on the horizon was definitely enough to throw Jason off his game. So, it was safe to say that he had a very restless night.

He would sleep for an hour or two before being pulled back into consciousness. No matter how often Jason woke up though, two things were constant. One, Dick stayed asleep. No surprise there, considering his older brother was thoroughly exhausted. Two, his brother was wrapped around him like a straitjacket and would not let go. Also unsurprising, given the night’s events.

Jason hadn’t slept this close to someone since…well…never actually. The two hadn’t been all that close on his first round of life, and since he came back wrong, he never gave anyone the chance to be this close to him. Not willingly anyway. Not like this.

As he watched his brothers soft and steady breathing, he considered this close proximity a little bit of positive progress. Brothers should be able to be near each other without flinching or fear, right? Jason hadn’t felt this utterly calm in the presence of another person in a long time. Sure, his relationships with various family members was steadily improving over time.

He thought about the ways he still subtly stiffened around his siblings sometimes, out of unspoken, unseen worry that he’d hurt them again.

This was definitely different. He carded through Dick’s fluffy black hair with calloused fingers. He wondered if the motion was as soothing for Dick as it was for him in that moment, though his brother probably didn’t even feel it. Call it anxious energy, but Jason needed to do something with himself.

It was weird, this quiet darkness. Moonlight streamed in through the window. The ceiling fan spinning above them blew down gentle streams of air. All was silent, save for the breathing of two people in the same space.

It was rare for Jason to have another pair of lungs and another heart to keep up a rhythm with him. It was…nice.

Drifting in and out of sleep continued until the moon disappeared, and the first traces of sunlight started peeking in at them. A glance at the clock showed it was 5:30. That was typically much earlier than Jason’s usual wake up time, but circumstances currently were not at all usual. He’d let it slide this time.

Starting at 5:45, he started the painstakingly slow process of freeing himself from Dick’s unrelenting grip. How the older’s muscles were locked like this while sleeping was probably one of the universe’s mysteries.

After a whole half-hour of slowly prying Dick’s fingers up and rolling away from the limbs trying to grab back at him, Jason finally found himself kneeling on his side of the bed. He gently moved Dick so his brother could bask in the warm spot Jason had just left. Hopefully, that’d keep him asleep for a while longer.

Standing and suppressing a groan when his joints creaked, Jason shuffled over to the window and closed the blinds to redarken the room. Anything that kept Dick asleep longer was good for Jason.

He stretched his arms over his head and walked out of the bedroom, making sure to close the door behind him. He’d been in Dick’s apartment a few times before, and his nose wrinkled at the new messes that decorated the space. Dishes were strewn about; wrappers of junk food were everywhere.

Jason picked up a few wrappers and frowned. All of this stuff was just candy and definitely not enough to sustain a vigilante’s body. It was like making a high-performance athlete eat nothing but brownies and soda for a month and asking him to play through an entire football game.

Completely preposterous, in Jason’s opinion.

“You see why I was worried?” A soft voice came from his left.

Jason hummed and turned to see his little ghost sitting on the countertop that divided the living room and kitchen. “You knew it was like this?”

The ghost shrugged. “I check on him from time to time. Usually, he’s fine enough, but it hasn’t been this bad since…”

Jason put the wrappers he was holding into the trash can at the end of the counter. He noticed several case files scattered around the kitchen, like Dick had been reading them or getting food and got distracted.

He glanced at his ghost when silence fell over the room. “Since?”

“…Well…Our death was the first time…the worst. Then there was Mirage…but we don’t talk about Mirage.” The kid’s voice tapered to a whisper near the edge.

Jason narrowed his eyes at the kid. “What’s so important about this Mirage business that put him into this sort of state.”

The kid only shook his head. “Don’t ask him. I can’t tell you. It would hurt him more to talk about it again.”

Taking a deep breath, Jason just walked around the apartment to clean the trash littering it and put dishes in the sink. Another mystery then. Fantastic. “Fine…But that means you talked to him about it, right?”

A small nod in response.

“Okay. So, he thought he was hallucinating me and trauma dumped on you?”

“Something like that.”

Jason sighed. This whole situation was more complicated than he thought. “You never told him what you were?”

There was a shrug, and his ghost fidgeted with the hem of his frayed cape. “I tried hinting at my real origin, but he didn’t believe me. Said that it was better to believe that it was his mind coming up with me…He…He didn’t think he was worthy of being haunted by us. I mean…he was kinda nasty to us, but he was still hurting then…is still hurting sometimes.”

Jason hummed. Damnit, Dick, why did you have to be so complicated? There was an unknown twinge in his gut when his ghost told him that Dick didn’t feel high enough of himself to even be haunted by a ghost. Add apparent self-esteem issues to the seemingly ever-growing list of concerns Jason was compiling.

“I just…I come check on him sometimes, and he never saw me when I didn’t want him to, but he was hurting again, and I just wanted to help…but-but I screwed it up again, and I just want him to stop hurting so bad.” The kid was sniffling softly and curling in on himself again.

Jason steadied himself and padded over to his ghost. This was way above his pay grade, because if his ghost was breaking down, and Dick was breaking down, then that meant that Jason would have to be the emotionally competent one now. And wasn’t that a big, uncomfortable ask?

“You were just trying to help him, yeah? You just wanted your big brother to find comfort in you existing there, right?” Right? Because Jason used to crave the same thing. Now, he’s wondering if that desire ever went away in the first place, though now it felt like it was rising to the surface again. Pushing the feelings down was like trying to push down an inflatable in a pool. The buoyant force would always eventually push it back up.

His ghost nodded shakily and reached out to grab Jason’s hand, which the very alive man allowed.

Jason felt the slight chill and wispy feeling of small, ghostly fingers brushing against his own, like a heavy fog rolling in from the sea. “Do you think, after all these years, that you did help him?”

The kid was silent for a moment, and his head rested on his knees in that tired sort of way. “For a bit…I didn’t…I didn’t heal him, but I kept him from shaking apart. I kept him alive…That’s the important thing…right?”

Kept him alive.

“What do you mean, ‘kept him alive’? Was he drowning in grief or something?” Jason needed to get his facts straight before jumping to any conclusions.

The ghost’s head tilted and looked at Jason almost curiously, almost with something like pity or regret or something that Jason couldn’t understand. “You know how Bruce got more violent after your death?”

The mention of their “father” made him snort, but he nodded regardless. “So I’ve heard.”

“Dick kinda…threw himself into his work, but it was killing him…He was killing himself, willingly. He was trying so hard to die without actually coming out and doing it himself. He didn’t want to go out by a rope around his neck or a slice to his wrists…but he was more than happy to go out from working himself to the bone…starving himself under the guise of being busy with cases…being too reckless and throwing himself into a few too many lines of fire that were completely unnecessary.”

Jason paused. Froze more like it. “What?” He managed out, his eyes wide in the shock of brand new information. He was never aware of this. Did Bruce know? Did anyone know? What the hell, Dick, I thought you hated me back then?

“I…I kept him alive. Told him we wouldn’t want him to do this. Told him he didn’t need to feel guilty over not knowing we’d died. It helped, just a little…When Tim came around, he helped a little too. But, I don’t know if that time ever really left. Sometimes, I’m scared he’s gonna go back to that. I’m just glad I stepped in the first time.”

Jason gulped, trying to fit all of this into his mental image of Dick Grayson. It didn’t work. It felt so, so wrong. Dick Grayson didn’t go into depressive, self-destructive spirals like this. Dick Grayson wasn’t suicidal after the death of a brother he hadn’t even loved. Dick Grayson always bounced back.

He looked at his ghost and watched the icy tears flowing from under the kid’s domino mask.

Dick Grayson bounced back until he willingly bounced off the top of a building and had to be caught and lifted by a dead little bird.

Jason suddenly felt incredibly tired. He, a little selfishly, wished for a second that he had ignored Dick’s call last night. But he hadn’t, and now all things came to a head right here in this messy apartment. All roads led back to his death or Dick Grayson, it seemed. Today, he was lucky enough to have the roads lead back to both.

He sighed and ruffled the kid’s intangible hair. “You did good, kiddo…You shouldn’t have had to do that, but I’m proud of you that you did.”

He was proud of his fifteen-year-old self for keeping the first good son in their messed up family on Earth.

He was proud of his former essence for trying to do the things that current Jason could only do in the soft dreams he rarely had where everything was okay and the family was whole.

He was proud that his magic didn’t fade away completely.

“I just didn’t want him to hurt…He doesn’t deserve to hurt for something he couldn’t do anything about.”

Jason nodded, his gaze meeting his ghost’s teary stare. “I suppose he doesn’t.” Is all he can say without choking up himself.

He pulled away from his teen self and walked to the fridge. The thing looked like it was ripped out of the seventies and was on its last leg. Inside the poor appliance wasn’t much better. The light flickered, and there wasn’t a whole lot of food inside. But there were eggs and butter, and there was bread on the counter. So, it would be enough.

“You’re gonna talk to him, right?”

He nodded. “That’s the plan.”

His ghost hummed approvingly and hopped off the counter. “I’ll go then. He’s in good hands. Just call me if you need me, okay?”

Jason looked down at the small boy at his side. Too many emotions washed over him, and he let them. He just didn’t hang onto a single one. “Take care of yourself, kid. I’ll only ask you here if you really need to be.”

“Until later, big red!” The kid chirped, giving him a jaunty salute and smile despite the tears on his face.

He disappeared a moment later, and Jason scrubbed at his own now-wet eyes. Great, it wasn’t even seven o’clock, and he was already tearing up. Great things to come, surely.

He sighed and started quietly pulling out pans and a bowl and utensils. A small glance was thrown towards the bedroom’s door. If he could keep Pandora’s Box closed for a long enough to make breakfast, he’d consider that a win.

Chapter Text

Jason was just finishing cooking when a loud thud sounded from the bedroom. He was about to drop the knife he was holding, but a louder smash echoed through the apartment, and the bedroom door shook.

Sounds like Pandora’s Box was about to open itself.

Jason finished cutting both grilled cheese sandwiches in half and put them on the two plates with the scrambled eggs. A nearly-empty pack of American cheese in the fridge had been just enough to make them. While this wasn’t at all Jason’s usual choice of breakfast combo, he figured it’d be good to give Dick a familiar choice.

A choked breath drew his attention to the now opening door.

Time seemed to pause when Dick looked up and locked eyes with him.

The still-rising sun’s visible rays spilled through the window between the kitchen and bedroom, cutting the space in half and lighting up the dust floating around. Silence settled on the frozen moment.

Dick looked…terrible was one way to put it. His hair was sticking up everywhere. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. His entire body was violently trembling.

He also looked like he was about to have a panic attack, and Jason was hoping to avoid that.

Jason offered him a small grin and picked up the plates. “Hey, Big Wing.” He placed the dishes on the small dining table and considered his brother, who was still stuck in place and heaving gasping breaths. “You’re not looking too hot.” He repeated the same words from last night and watched the flicker of something flash in Dick’s eyes.

The morning atmosphere was peaceful, and Jason couldn’t help but feel calmed by it. There was no trace of the pit in his vision or his heart. It felt just a little like he was thrown into years long past, where he was still whole, or maybe into one of those distant dreams that he cherished deep in his core.

At Dick’s lack of response, he tapped the top of the table but stepped forward a little. “I made breakfast.” His tone was low, and his feet took him into the spattered light of the sun.

Dick slowly stood up straighter and gulped, staring at him up and down with more tears gathering in his eyes.

Jason wondered what his brother saw in that moment. He wondered why Dick was looking up at him like he was the source of all light in the room.

“Dick?” A knot of worry started to twist in his gut at the lack of verbal response.

A second passed, then another. Then, Dick took a tentative little step towards him like he would shatter the floor if he pressed any harder. “Am I still…dreaming?” His voice was raw and crackly.

Jason’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head. “No, we’re both very awake.” He pinched himself to demonstrate. “Why would you think you were dreaming, Dickiebird?”

Sniffing, his older brother tiptoed towards him again, silent as a shadow. “You’re still here.”

Oh…

Oh, Dickie…I’m so sorry.

“You thought I left.” Jason concluded, feeling his innards coiling uncomfortably at the thought. Yes, he definitely did have a tendency to ditch the bats the second he could, but they weren’t bats right now.

They were two little birds with their hearts bleeding into an abyssal hole and no one around to shield them from the storms of the past. And little birds flocked together, as much as they may not like it sometimes.

And like the good bird he always denied himself to be, Jason spread his arms wide. An open invitation.

Dick didn’t need to be told twice, but his approach was much slower than the night prior. His eyes kept flicking to different parts of Jason before he tucked himself against his little brother’s chest.

Jason closed his arms around the older and felt Dick put his head on his shoulder. He felt Dick’s tense muscles relax as they stood in the middle of the room, and Jason rubbed his hand up and down his back like he had during the night.

Usually, Jason was never trusted nor given the opportunity to be so carefully gentle, at least not with his ‘family’. He felt like an eagle holding a sparrow in its talons, trying not to squeeze too hard. Trying not to hurt when that was all most people saw him do. To the eyes of many, he was nothing but a monster that was too dangerous to trust with anything even remotely fragile. It was hard to think of himself as anything else, when it was all most people saw.

But Dick wasn’t flinching from him. He wasn’t scared. He was happy to see Jason. And Jason…he didn’t really know how to take that. Even after all these years, being wanted was something Jason often struggled with.

“I’m here, Dick…And I’m not going anywhere.” He bared the truth, raw and open, and watched the dust flicker through the sunbathed air. Somewhere deep in his brain, he’d capture this memory and hold onto it for when it inevitably ended. He knew he’d mess up somewhere and make it all worse. He always did. He was the greatest failure after all.

Unbeknownst to his little brother’s self-loathing, Dick sniffed against him but only moved to wrap his arms more tightly around Jason’s torso and shoulders. “You didn’t leave.” And he sounded so relieved that something in Jason’s throat tightened.

Hearing his ever-cheerful, invulnerable brother being so happy about him simply staying was a little like a slap to the face. Did Dick feel like this a lot? Was this…not separation anxiety, but this worry. Did he feel this for all of them? Was he constantly scared of them leaving him? Was Jason the reason for that?

“I didn’t leave.” Jason confirmed, reaching up with a hand to push his fingers through Dick’s hair in a weak attempt to tame it.

They stood there for a few minutes more. Jason didn’t know what was going through Dick’s mind, but he personally was trying to catch this once-in-a-lifetime lightning in the bottle of his memory. The warm sun caressing his skin that held them in a gentle embrace of its own. The light filtering into the room that made it glow like a soothing candle. The gentle quiet of the apartment that made the moment that much more ethereal. The smell of butter and eggs and toasted bread that made his mouth water. The feeling of his brother nestled against him that reminded him that this was all real.

This was not one of those far away dreams that sent Jason crying, not of fear but of longing and pain, in the middle of cold, lonely nights.

“Why?”

The word was spoken so softly and quietly that Jason had to blink and make sure he heard right. He supposed it wasn’t a bad question, considering that Jason did always tend to stay at the edges of the family. Still, it hurt a little bit that Dick felt the need to question his motives. He wasn’t sure how much that said about him or how much that said about Dick. If he feeling generous, he’d heap all the blame on himself, because he was always the problem anyway.

Jason was feeling, for whatever odd reason, more than generous this morning. Dick’s words from last night’s call flicked into his mind. ‘I’m scared, Jay.’ Jason took a deep breath and let his forehead drop to Dick’s shoulder. “You really scared me there, Dick. If you had just been injured or something physical, I could’ve patched you up and left, but this…” He considered his next words carefully, “I can’t fix this by leaving.” And he hated how his voice cracked just a little at the admission.

Jason Todd was a man of action. If something was broken, he’d glue and tape it back together, ugly as it probably was, and put it back on the shelf. He could stitch wounds with his eyes closed and put pedophiles six-feet-under faster than you could say “Don’t kill people, Jason.”

He didn’t know what type of glue or tape to use for this much…emotional damage. He didn’t know what type of stitch to use for such a shattered heart.

“Sor-“

“Don’t you dare apologize for that. When you saw little Jay last night…you thought I had died again, didn’t you?”

The was a nod against his shoulder and a suppressed sob that came through as a whole-body shudder.

“Then, you don’t get to be sorry. You’ve got nothing to be sorry for…If your ghost popped up in front of me, I’d want to make sure too.” He spoke softly, almost whispering his words against Dick’s shirt.

There was a wordless hum in answer, and silence enveloped them once again.

“I don’t think anyone can fix me.” Dick’s voice piped up, resigned and small, next to him.

Jason’s heart may have cracked that much more. The golden boy should not be feeling like this. He should not be a sculptor with a razor-sharp chisel aiming to break Jason’s stone-cold heart. The grip on his brother got a little tighter. “Well, I’m going to work my hardest to at least try…You deserve that much.”

A tiny sob broke through Dick’s tense throat. “I don’t. I’ll be fine.”

The twinge of green in Jason’s vision was quickly stamped down. “You do deserve it. You deserve not to hurt.”

He didn’t get an answer. So, Jason, against everything in his body wanting to keep this hug going forever, pulled away but kept his hands firmly on Dick’s shoulders. “Do you at least deserve to have breakfast?” He nodded at the table behind them.

Dick’s eyes wandered to the plates, and any protests that seemed to be on his lips died quickly as confusion took over his expression. “Did you….you made scrambled eggs…and grilled cheese?”

Jason grinned and patted Dick’s shoulder. “Breakfast of champions, right?”

Dick glanced back up at him and matched his smile, though it looked more strained with the tears tracing down his cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “I guess it looks good.”

Gently, Jason guided Dick over to one of the chairs and sat him down. “Of course it does. I made it.” He sat in a chair of his own and took a sip of water from the glass he had set out. “Nothing better than chatting over a classic meal of eggs and grilled cheese.”

Dick snorted and picked up his fork. The tick in his jaw, quivering hands, and bitten lip betray the older’s nerves, but Jason elected to just put that in the back of his mind for now. It was more important to get something into the probably malnourished idiot than interrogate him on the spot.

Jason mentally patted himself on the back. Bruce could never.

Chapter Text

After a solid thirty seconds of waiting, Jason put his water glass on the table and turned to fully face Dick. “I’m not eating until you do.”

Dick startled slightly, the fork nearly dropping from his weak grip, and panicked eyes shot up to meet Jason’s gaze. “You don’t have to do that.”

Jason hummed and poked at his grilled cheese. “I don’t.” He agreed, readjusting in his seat to be the epitome of lazy comfort.

His brother’s brows furrowed in confusion. Jason could see the gears turning as Dick stared at Jason’s food. The older readjusted his grip on the fork and swallowed around nothing. “Then, you should eat.”

Stubbornness was a game that Jason was the undisputed master of. He wasn’t budging on this. “So should you.”

Dick swallowed again and stared down at the food. It was unsettling, how he just stared at it with blank, glassy eyes.

Jason’s thoughts wandered to the mess the apartment was in when he first got here. It was becoming very clear to him that junk food was indeed all that Dick had been eating consistently. “There wasn’t a whole lot to eat in the fridge, but if the food’s that bad, I can probably whip up something else.”

Dick opened his mouth but closed it again. He avoided Jason’s eyes and poked at an egg on his plate. “It’s not that. Your food’s always good.” The last part was muttered, but Jason heard it all the same.

His heart swelled a little bit at the compliment. But, there was still a bigger issue here, “Penny for your thoughts then?”

Dick pushed more eggs around and looked almost guilty. “I just…I can’t.”

There was so much wrong here that Jason fought back a grimace. Vigilantes refusing food was never a good sign. “Dick.”

His brother’s eyes lifted to his. There was some sort of unspoken pain in them, and Jason was doing his very best to puzzle it out. So, they just stared at each other for a minute. In the end, Jason sighed and scooted himself and his chair around the corner to be just a corner away from Dick instead of the opposite end of the table.

He, very slowly, lifted his hand towards the one that Dick was resting on the table. Telegraphing all movements and flicking his eyes to Dick’s in a silent ask for permission, he eventually settled his large hand on top of Dick’s smaller one.

Tremors surged in the rough, slack fingers under Jason’s calloused hand.

He glanced up at his brother again and found his eyes glued to their hands. Jason bit his lip nervously. Dick seriously looked like he was about to start crying again, and Jason didn’t know why. This helplessness was eating him alive, but he also realized that pushing too hard would only make Dick clam up even more, probably. Typically, Jason was more of a bull-in-a-china-shop type or non-existent apparition when it came to being delicate, but deep inside, he vowed that he would rather die again than ruin whatever this soft moment was. There was a rare chance here, and he could not afford to mess it up.

“Dickiebird.” Jason called softly, tilting his head to easier be in his brother’s vision and gripping his hand a little tighter. “I’m not Martian Manhunter. I need you to talk to me.”

Dick’s gaze remained fixed on their hands, but slowly, almost cautiously, he turned his hand over and ghosted over the pulse point on Jason’s wrist with a single finger. He looked like he was warring with himself over something, with the ways his forehead creased and eyes tightened.

Jason was good at being silent. Even with all his bulk, he was one of the stealthiest bats. Instead of stalking a criminal though, his mission right now was to be quiet and understand. It was a much tougher ask, but Jason loved challenges. He could do this.

His head stayed tilted, gaze open and gentle. His thumb rubbed up and down on Dick’s wrist, whether to soothe himself or Dick or both of them didn’t really matter. It was the thought that counted.

Jason said nothing. Let the flighty bird come to him, as they say.

Dick finally, finally, seemed to come to a decision. His shoulders slumped in a defeated posture. His eyes closed like he was trying to hide.

Jason still said nothing, but he prepared himself for whatever confession was sure to come.

“I’m not okay, Jason.” It came as a whisper in the still morning air. It came as a secret no one should know, but Dick confided in him anyway. It came as a broken admission that Dick finally didn’t know how to continue on.

Jason squeezed his hand a little, to encourage him of course, not at all because his chipped heart was starting to crack evermore. He wanted to say something, give a little quip or retort to try to ease the heavy atmosphere they’d created, but nothing came out. It was Dick’s moment, and Jason, for all he tried, couldn’t break the silence. He didn’t want to mess up, couldn’t mess up, even though it felt inevitable.

Dick squeezed back, barely a pressure to Jason, and put his fork down on the plate. There was a little rattling noise when the metal hit ceramic, a testament to how shaky his brother’s hands were right now.

“I haven’t been okay in a long time…I think.” Dick whispered, eyes still closed but not tightly. It seemed more...tired. He sighed, long and exhausted, like he could expel whatever was troubling him through breath alone. “I don’t know anymore.”

Jason hummed, not letting up the rubbing motion from his thumb. It felt like he was about to set foot in a perilous minefield that was also lined with broken glass and tripwires, but despite the danger, he had to try. Even if Dick denied it, his older brother deserved better. “Can you talk me through it?” He doesn’t remember the last time his voice went so soft for someone who was older than himself. Maybe that didn’t matter either.

Dick huffed and suddenly drooped forward, letting his forehead rest against the top of Jason’s hand. “Where do I start?”

Jason paused, frozen in time as he stared at his brother. He blinked out of his stupor and brought his free hand up to card through Dick’s hair. Seems like breakfast would get cold, but that was okay. It had to be. “Maybe I’ll start. Little Jay and I talked before you got up.”

Dick turned his head and stared at him with one eye. He said nothing, but the look he gave urged Jason to continue. “He said this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten like this…Said there were two other times.”

Dick stiffened but otherwise showed no emotion.

“He said once was…our death, the first time. He said the other…” And he trailed off for a moment, because his ghost told him not to ask about it. He had said it hurt too much to talk about, but Jason needed to lay out his cards. This wasn’t a poker championship. This was the deep longing lodged in the bottom of his soul that begged for a better relationship with his only older brother. This was his chance to actually do something about it for once. He probably would never get a better one again.

“He said the other happened over someone or something called Mirage. He said not to ask about it, which I’m not going to. He also said that you got to…” Deep breaths, Jason. “You got to a suicidal level of workaholism and self-neglect. Said he kept you alive even though it hurt you to see him.” He hated how his voice wavered and shook. He needed to be the strong one right now.

Dick flinched violently, and for a moment, Jason thought he had said too much and would cause his brother to bolt. “I’m not going to ask about anything, Dickie. Just letting you know.” He added, hoping that would help somehow. He was doing his best, he swore. His hands were starting to shake a little themselves. He was trying so hard not to botch this conversation.

Dick definitely noticed that and squeezed Jason’s shaking hand with his own. Great, now they were both tremoring. “It was so hard after you died. For a while, I didn’t…I didn’t want to be here anymore. Why should I get to live, when my baby brother, who shone brighter than I ever did, didn’t get to?” He admitted into the quiet, throat sounding shredded from the effort of suppressed cries.

Jason was…confused, to say the least. “I didn’t shine that bright.”

“But you did. Maybe you don’t see it, or you try to forget it, but…but I became Robin when I was angry and needed something to take it out on. It got better, sure, but when you took over, you…” A sniff, and that single eye staring into Jason’s soul was watery with grief and regret, “You were so good. You helped so many people that I never saw. Your perspective gave you direction, a compassion for the most broken of people that I didn’t understand at that age. You were like a supernova, Jay. You were brighter than anyone else I’d ever seen…And-“

Jason looked at him, stunned and uncertain. This was not how he thought this conversation would go.

“And I was so nasty and dismissive of you at first. I hated that you were doing such a good job. I hated that Bruce gave away something he never should have. I hated that you got adopted first..But then when I looked at you, really looked…” A small smile curved at his brother’s lips, and Jason stopped breathing. Here it comes.

Dick just looked at him for a second, then sighed, like a weight was suffocating him from deep inside. “ I was so proud of you…But I was a damn coward, and I never told you how much I loved you.” He paused and took in a wheezing breath. “Did you know? I was planning a whole speech to give you when I got back from space to tell you exactly that. You did Robin proud. You did me proud…And I never got to tell you, because you were gone.” Dick was almost sobbing now, looking at him so earnestly that Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Dick’s free hand reached up and wiped at a wet spot on Jason’s cheek. How did it get wet?

And oh, Jason realized he was crying. Not much, but enough to send a singular tear trailing down his face.

“Back when I found out, I was so angry. Angry at Bruce, angry at…him…Angry at myself. I thought that a world without my little wing wasn’t worth living in anymore. I didn’t want to stay. I wanted t-to follow you. So I could tell you myself.”

Jason gulped and let Dick wipe away the tears that continued their march. Holy shit, Dick. This was way beyond Jason’s comfort zone. “But then my ghost showed up.” He whispered, throat feeling overwhelmingly tight at the thought.

Dick nodded from where his head rested on their hands. “I didn’t think he was real. I thought I was finally going crazy, but then Bruce got violent and-and Mirage, and I left the Titans for a bit…and he was the only one that stayed.”

Jason bit back a question about what Mirage had to do with this or the Titans, but he knew better. “I remember a little.” He said instead, voice choked up but otherwise silent.

Dick blinked at him. “What?”

“I mean…I used to be that ghost, right? Up until I got brought back, we were the same. I might’ve lost the memories of that whole time when we got separated, but…I never really left you, big bird.”

He thought that would be an okay thing to say. As he had decided before: lay all his cards out. No more big ugly secrets like this. This was his poker game to lose, and he’d never wanted to lose so much in his life.

Apparently, he thought wrong, because he had never seen Dick look more destroyed than he did in that very second.

“Y-You were there? That really was you?”

Jason nodded, his eyes focusing on Dick’s hair to keep from being sucked into the ocean blue. “That’s what he used to tell me. I don’t remember everything he said. I was still mostly catatonic or…too angry to listen to him, but I didn’t leave you until I hauled myself back out of my grave”

Dick made a hurt sound and wiped another one of his tears away. “I was so mean to you, though…Why would you stay?”

Jason shrugged. He didn’t remember the reason himself, but from his ghost…”He told me that you were hurting. It’s why he stayed with you. Again, I don’t remember it so…I don’t know. Maybe it didn’t matter to me.”

“You kept me alive though…If you hadn’t been there, I would’ve died some way or another, and I never would have got to meet you again.” Dick spoke slowly, as if turning the words over in his head.

This whole morning was frankly wild, in Jason’s opinion. “But I came back wrong. I’m not that bright little star I might’ve been.”

There was silence for a moment, just waiting for something to snap, someone to yell, something to plunge this tearful morning into a raging storm.

“You didn’t come back wrong.” Dick cracked out, hand never leaving Jason’s cheek.

The storm didn’t come. It wasn’t even brewing. There was not a single hint of animosity or anger in the room.

Jason looked at him, disbelieving.

“You never came back wrong.” Dick repeated, his gaze suddenly turning determined and sincere. Jason was caught in that ocean again, and Dick refused to let him go now. “You came back strong. I can’t claim to always agree with your methods, but you came back and still saved people. Yes, you hurt Tim at first. Yes, the duffel bag was a crazy move. Yes, you were a bit too violent for my tastes…But you’ve done things that none of us could. Bruce doesn’t kill because he’s scared he won’t stop. I don’t because of the guilt I feel when I cross that line. But you…you can kill the worst of this world and still come back from it. You know when to stop, and you can sleep knowing you’ve taken a demon off this earth to protect innocents. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Isn’t that the problem? I was so angry…I’m still angry. I can’t blame the Pit for all that.” Jason protested weakly, because no one in the family had ever said that they understood, much less admired his ability to cleanse the streets of grime and filth.

“You have every right to be angry. I used to be angry too, so angry. Still am, sometimes. We both have our ways of handling it.”

Jason sucked in a breath. No one was supposed to just let him live down the things he’d done. He had learned from a young age that love wasn’t unconditional. Acceptance wasn’t unconditional.

“But Bruce still loves you.” He didn’t mean for it to come out so hoarse and broken.

Dick looked like he’d just been punched in the gut. “Do you…do you think he doesn’t love you anymore?”

Jason looked into those ocean blue eyes and saw such a deep pain. It was the same bone-deep weariness that looked back at him in the mirror more often than not. “I’m not his Jason. I’m not anyone’s.” His throat flexed around a sob. I’m not that ghost anymore.” There, he said it. He confessed to another living soul that he knew what he was and what he was not. His voice may have shaken and cracked and spoken it in a barely-audible whisper, but he said it.

It seemed that the gut punch made Dick appear on the edge of vomiting. “…Jay…” He lifted his hand from Jason’s cheek and brushed it through his hair, gently ruffling through that patch of white. “You grew up, unconventionally yes, but that doesn’t make you any less his son, any less my brother. He still loves you, though he has a terrible way of showing it.”

Jason didn’t trust himself to speak. Out of everything Dick said, this was something he also couldn’t trust. Not after everything that had happened. A father doesn't throw a knife at your head. He opened and closed his mouth, once, twice, three times, until his voice would work. “You can’t speak for him.”

Dick’s hand shook when he moved it to hold the side of Jason’s head. “Then, I’ll speak for myself. Jason, I was proud of you then, and I’m still so, so proud of you now. You had every chance, every right, to lose yourself and stay lost, but you came back. You came back to us, and I could never be more proud. You came back different, but you’re still so bright. You’re like the son of a phoenix and a black hole, re-birthed from ashes and keeping what you love close and not giving an inch. You’re amazing.”

The sob that wrenched itself from Jason’s soul could not be stopped. Dick’s thumb swiped under his eye, and a pinky finger rubbed lightly behind his ear. If this was any other time, Jason probably would have scoffed at the analogy and called it stupid or corny or lame, because it was, but he held it close to his chest like it was the most special gift that could be bestowed upon him. A phoenix and a black hole, a revered mythical bird and an all-consuming force of nature. It was fitting. Of course Dick came up with it.

“I don’t say this enough. I should, and from now on, I will.” Dick pinned him with the most honest, adoring look that had ever been sent his way, and a teary, loving smile to boot. “I’m proud of you, Jason, of the man you are. I love you for you and everything you stand for. I want you to be able to stand by my side without fear.” Dick’s smile turned wobbly, and he pulled his other hand out from under Jason’s to cup the other side of his face. “I want to be the big brother you always deserved. I’m sorry for not giving you much the first time around. I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me. But, I need you to understand that you will always be my little brother, and I will always love you.”

And Jason felt the last bits of composure in his mind and remnants of stone around his heart shatter.

The tears wouldn’t stop. Sobs tore through the air. His shoulders trembled from the words he’d always so desperately, so secretly, craved to hear. His heart spilled over from its fullness. For not the first time this morning, Jason didn’t know what to do.

‘You will always be my little brother.’

Jason wailed, and sometime in the past few seconds, Dick had stood up and half-kneeled against his chair to pull Jason’s head under his chin.

‘I will always love you.’

Jason grabbed onto Dick’s arm like a lifeline. He felt his older brother’s arms around him, one around his front, currently in a death grip, one rubbing circles on his back. He felt lips kissing the crown of his head and a small, broken voice whispering sweet nothings against his scalp.

Jason was being held like he was something precious. He was being held like he belonged, like he was worth it.

Now, he was the sparrow in the eagle’s talons, and the eagle was so unbearably gentle.

If this was what being loved felt like, then Jason would make the most of every opportunity. If this was what being a little brother meant, then he would never shy away from it again.

Chapter Text

Jason wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position. Emotional breakdowns seemed to have that effect. He distantly mused about what a sight they probably were: a six-foot-something tank of a man curled up in a ball on a crappy plastic chair in his older brother’s dining area and being held in said brother’s arms, with aforementioned tank sobbing from emotions that totally haven’t been pushed into the deepest parts of his soul for over a decade and the older brother, who was also on the chair now, wrapping around him like a human blanket and crying tiny tears that you’d have to squint to see.

Apparently, it was a very bad position to tell time in. It could’ve been two minutes or two hours, and he wouldn’t have been able to tell you which one it was.

He could tell you though, the exact moment when a loud crack echoed through the apartment like a gunshot and took both him and Dick to the ground.

They lied there for a few minutes, just soaking in the fact that two professional vigilantes exceeded the weight limit on a stupid chair and ended up almost cracking their skulls on the wooden floor because of it. If Jason wasn’t so emotionally compromised, he probably would’ve thrown his brother the odd length of the apartment or so. All he did instead was sniffle miserably and shove Dick in the shoulder.

“Y-Your chairs are shit.” Jason hissed, but it lacked any real heat to it, considering he was still near sobbing (just a little of course) and trying to compose himself from…earlier revelations.

Dick chuckled wetly from his place flopped on top of Jason and let his head drop against the younger’s shoulder. “Sorry. I was thinking about getting new ones, a while ago anyway.”

Jason huffed and flicked Dick’s temple, because the stupid idiot who didn’t take care of himself also happened to have a filthy-rich family who could afford to buy chairs that were better quality than whatever back-alley thrift store dumpster that Dick had probably found these in. He felt weirdly guilty from the action, though, and immediately let those same fingers once again curl into soft black hair. “Well, past Dick seemed to have the right idea. You should expect your chairs to be able to hold over three hundred pounds of pure muscle and angst. Get with the program, Dickhead.”

Dick, for the first time that morning, laughed, loud and genuine and cheerful, like nothing had even been wrong in the first place. “So, I should expect this more often?”

“Yes.” Jason said flatly, give Dick such a determined look that his older brother was taken aback by the seriousness. “Oh, come on, don’t look so surprised.”

“Well excuse me for not thinking you’d want to hang out here again.” Dick shot back, but any bite in his words was nothing but pure shock and confusion. Seriously, for as intelligent as the eldest bird was, he could be so stupid sometimes.

Jason, rolling his still-teary eyes, slowly stood up and hauled his brother up with him. If he found great enjoyment in gently flopping a bewildered Dick back into his chair like a sack of potatoes, he didn’t show it. He sniffed again but grabbed another chair for himself to sit back down on, kicking away the remnants of the broken, shattered excuse of a seat under the table. After settling back, he picked up his fork, pointed it accusingly at his brother, and frowned at him. “I know what you’re trying to do.” He was trying, and probably failing, at sounding authoritative, what with the raspy post-breakdown crack in his voice and all.

Dick’s face went through a few emotions before settling on feigned curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Jason squinted and jabbed the fork in Dick’s direction again. “You’re doing that thing you always do, where you dump your own feelings into a never ending but always growing pit and focus on other people. I appreciate your words, really I do, but this conversation was supposed to be about you, not me. And you, very skillfully I must say, successfully spun it to the favor of your emotional denial and repression.”

With his mouth slightly agape and brows furrowed, Dick blinked at him. He swallowed and looked away, deciding that readjusting on his chair and looking at the neglected sandwich and eggs on his plate was the best choice of action. “You’ve uh…you’ve put a lot of thought into that, huh?”

Jason, now completely, totally fine after his little crying session, was undeterred. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about a lot of things.”

There was silence for a beat, and Dick, once again, seemed torn about something.

Stupid big brothers and their stupid emotional issues. Actually, stupid family and their stupid emotional issues. Screw Bruce for not being available or competent with things like this, honestly.

The silence stretched too long, and Jason was getting hungry. Having emotional conversations while running on empty simply wasn’t an option anymore. So, he decided to take a more proactive approach. “If you don’t get that sandwich into your mouth in the next five seconds, I’m going to force it down your throat.”

“Wait-“ Dick started, looking all manner of panicked child about to be scolded.

“Five.“ Jason’s voice was short and clipped, each word punctuated by a jab of his fork in Dick’s direction.

“Jason, we can talk about this-“

“Four.”

“Little wing-“

“Three.”

“Can we not eat here?” Dick blurted, standing up, swaying enough that Jason instinctively reached out to steady him, and shaking his head. Actually, more of him was shaking from where Jason’s hand braced against his side.

His brother was full-body quaking where he stood, and Jason’s heart stopped for a moment, wondering if this was it, if that countdown was too much for his brother’s fragile state, if Dick would see that Jason was nothing but an angry bastard with too many issues to ever be useful for anything other than fighting and bleeding and dying.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. You pushed too hard, and now he’s going to yell at you.

But his brother had other ideas. Dick picked up his plate with the shaking hand not holding the sandwich and wobbled over to the ratty old couch in the living room, promptly plopping down into it and appearing to get swallowed by the overstuffed cushions. “I just…gotta sit down. Not there.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at him before grabbing his own food and following Dick to the couch. It was an…odd request, but he had half a mind to know that arguing with Dick over eating location was a stupid endeavor. Still though, he filed ‘possible fear of dining tables?’ in the back of his mind for later analysis.

“It’s just…I can’t think over there. It’s too, I dunno, formal or something. Change of scenery.” Dick continued, waving the hand hold the sandwich around for emphasis.

Oh. Okay, so not a fear of dining tables, per se (thank goodness). It was just too stuffy for Dick to think. Jason could work with that, even if the change of scenery was literally a few feet away on a worn leather couch that was well beyond its golden years. He stretched out and let his feet flop gracelessly onto the coffee table in front of the couch. He also scooted over until he was just a few inches from bumping shoulders with Dick. Maximum comfort. Maximum annoyance if necessary. He would use his bulk against his brother and tip over onto him like a walrus on a boulder if he had to.

As Jason had been repositioning, Dick finally took a bite of the sandwich. He chewed and swallowed all while under Jason’s hawk-like stare. “This is good.”

“If you said otherwise, I would’ve shoved it down your throat with a little more enthusiasm. Congratulations, you made the wise choice.” Jason deadpanned, because he needed to do an internal emotional reset and didn’t want to start crying (again) over the fact that Dick ate something, because that would be incredibly stupid and embarrassing. He picked up his own sandwich half, threw some eggs on top, and nearly downed the whole thing in single python-esque gulp. The second massive bite got rid of the rest of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dick’s jaw hanging and his eyes widen in morbid fascination. “What?”

“You just- Jason.” Dick sounded like he’d just seen the first ever unicorn, and Jason had shot it, disbelieving and incredulous and probably more than a little horrified. It was, in Jason’s humble opinion, hilarious to look at, given the context.

Jason, rolling back over to the more sarcastic, joking end of the emotional spectrum, because he was exhausted from being an emotionally squishy puddle of goo a few minutes prior, grinned and waved the other half of the sandwich at his brother. “Y’ wanna see me do it again?”

Dick’s nose scrunched up, and he shoved Jason’s shoulder with his own. “Do that again, and I’m throwing myself out the window.”

Jason huffed, but he couldn’t ignore the small, gooey little melting of his heart at the action. Stupid feelings and stupid childish touch-starvation. He needed to get over himself, but also…this was Dick, the one person, other than Bruce so long ago, he craved being close to. This was his big brother finally soothing maybe a few of Jason’s insecurities, who was starting to open up to him and find that Jason could perhaps be trusted with personal secrets.

After all, Jason was an expert at taking things to his grave.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Jason caught glances of Dick and couldn’t help the twitch of a smile tugging at his lips. His older brother was enjoying his cooking, not questioning if it had been poisoned or calling it inferior in quality. He just sat and ate and let his face show his love for the home-cooked meal. Jason could only bask in the unspoken approval.

It wasn’t until Jason had finished his plate and Dick had gotten through most of his eggs and one sandwich half that words were spoken again.

“I’m sorry for…deflecting. I know I have a tendency to do that.” Dick said, small and whispered like a secret.

Jason hummed and placed his plate on the little side-table next to the couch. “At least you’re aware you do it. That’s gotta count for something in this family.”

Dick hummed in agreement, but his fork stilled from its place piercing one of the eggs. “I don’t know if I’ll stop.”

Turning to his brother, Jason gazed at the ocean eyes that were avoiding his gaze. “Then, I’ll make you.”

The eyes flicked up to meet his, just for an instant, before they dropped again. “How’s that?”

Jason opted to ignore answering that question in favor for asking another one. Dick didn’t need to know his methods anyway. “What happened here?”

It was vague, yes, but it also gave Dick any number of openings to approach the discussion.

For Dick, it may have been a little too vague, if the genuinely confused, furrowed eyebrows said anything.

To clarify, Jason waved his hand around the room. “Why have you only been eating junk food for what I think has been weeks? Why did my ghost appear to you, when it seems he only does so when you’re in a particularly deep pit of trauma? What happened that made you not want to sit at a table or eat?”

“Ah.” Was Dick’s very helpful, very detailed response.

All Jason could do for the next few seconds was blink at him, because maybe it was coming out that Jason wasn’t the most emotionally repressed member of the family. The king of complete obliviousness and/or denial was sitting right in front of him. It would be infuriating, but Jason was already nearing the end of his feeling’s quota for the year and was therefore too tired to care too much.

Dick, the stubborn idiot, just nibbled at his breakfast and occasionally side-eyed him while curled up in a guilty little hunch.

Jason raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to make me play ‘trauma twenty questions’, or are you waiting for me to leave so you can keep wallowing in your own misery. Because, news flash Dickie, I’m not leaving, if that wasn’t already clear.” He was hoping that fact was already obvious, but he knew he was a bit new at this whole ‘being way more emotionally vulnerable than ever before’ deal. Was this really how ‘normal people’ took care of their family issues? Consistently?

After another small beat of time, Dick sighed and placed his mostly-empty plate on the coffee table. “Sorry. Just...thinking on how to answer you.”

Jason hummed, turning his head away from his brother and letting it sink into the couch. “Just…stream of consciousness hit me. Not gonna force you to say stuff you don’t wanna, but I’m here to listen” He spoke earnestly, maybe the most earnestly in a long time, but he didn’t want to seem unapproachable when it was so glaringly obvious that Dick was struggling. Things were going well so far, at least he hoped they were, and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t mind being the shoulder to cry on, just this once maybe. “I won’t laugh, I swear.” He tacked on at the end, earning an amused huff from the other.

A shoulder very gently brushed into his before pulling away again. “That might work.”

“I won’t even look at you, if that helps.” Jason mumbled, his tone lowered and soft. He could sense that they were about to tip back into sensitive topics again, like a falcon pushing into the start of a dive. He closed his eyes to demonstrate, while also easing into the cushions with the rest of his body. If it helped Dick feel even the slightest bit more comfortable to open up, Jason would do whatever was needed.

Dick sighed again, but this time, it was filled with leaden weights and an air of pure exhaustion. “It’s just…It’s stupid, Jay. It happened a long time ago.”

Internally, Jason cringed a little at the drastic flip in tone, but he didn’t show it. “It’s not stupid if it’s made you have a several weeks-long breakdown.”

“How would you know how long it’s been anyway?” Dick snorted, seeming genuinely offended at Jason’s repeatedly mentioned observation.

“The amount of candy wrappers, used paper plates, and mostly old food in the fridge?” Jason answered, shrugging. Maybe the rest of the family didn’t realize how observant he was about these things, but if Jason Todd knew one thing, it was the state of a home with a heavily-struggling occupant.

Dick seemed to breathe out what could’ve been a chuckle, but Jason kept his eyes closed, as promised. He could imagine Dick shaking his head or readying a pillow to hit him with, but his brother was probably too tired for that. He was probably just pressed into the couch cushions and either staring at the breakfast on his plate or curled up in a ball.

“You remember anything about Blockbuster?”

That…wasn’t a question Jason was expecting. If he was being honest, he barely recalled anything about the nutjob that had plagued Bludhaven three or so years ago. “Not…a lot? I was still pretty, you know, fresh back when I think that happened. It was mostly just bits and pieces.”

He heard Dick sigh, whether out of frustration or understanding wasn’t known. “Yeah, that…makes sense. I guess just…The rundown is that I was training this vigilante, kinda. She was called Tarantula. I was trying to set her on a better path, and we were working on the Blockbuster case. We eventually confronted him, and…” Dick trailed off, an uncharacteristic wetness in his voice and choke in his throat that made Jason’s gut roll. At least he was hopefully getting to the heart of the issue, but it still hurt to hear the untouchable golden boy like this.

There was another pause, something that Jason was rapidly growing accustomed to. If Dick needed a little time to put his thoughts together, well…Jason was in no rush. When the response came though, it hit Jason like a ton of bricks that were hardwired to blow on impact.

“I…I killed him.”

…Huh.

Jason buried his shock for the time being and inwardly cursed his idea of turning partially away from his brother. Frankly, he had no idea what to say on the matter. “Oh?”

“She-she pulled the trigger, but I didn’t…I didn’t make any move to stop her. I was right there. I could’ve stopped it.” Dick’s voice was pitched up in a desperate panic, and his breaths hitched and cracked just a little. Jason could imagine how Dick was probably either hugging his knees to his chest or hugging a pillow. In the very few, only tripping on fear gas, can-count-on-two fingers number of times he’d seen that happen, Dick had always looked so very small.

“Dickie, can you listen to me for a sec?” He asked, his words hopefully coming out soft and comforting. Instead of opening his eyes, he opted for reaching out his hand and resting it on Dick’s knee. If he couldn’t -wouldn’t- look at him, he’d at least give his brother a grounding touch.

He didn’t wait for Dick to continue before pressing on. “As someone who’s killed people and watched them get killed by others…What happened was not your fault. You are not responsible for someone’s death, especially when another person was the one who pulled the trigger. You didn’t pull the trigger. You didn’t take that shot. You can’t hold that guilt with you. It’ll eat you alive if you never let it go.” He paused and patted Dick’s leg lightly. “You hold yourself to higher standards than the rest of us…But you need to give yourself some grace, Dickiebird. You’re still human. Maybe you could’ve stopped a death from happening, but you can’t save everyone. You just can’t.”

Dick sniffed, and there was suddenly a weight pressed up against his side. Jason smiled a little and gently draped his arms around his brother’s shoulders. If he pulled Dick a little bit closer, neither of them mentioned it.

“I think…I was in shock after it…” Dick mumbled, much closer to Jason’s ear now.

“That’s understandable.” Jason quietly murmured back. Even though he didn’t get bothered by killing, though his own targets were always terrible demons of hell wrapped in human flesh, he knew that Dick wouldn’t feel the same way. He was too good for that. Jason didn’t have that sort of goodness anymore.

“I-I went to the rooftop to try and…I don’t know. Clear my head, I guess.” Dick’s voice was all sorts of wobbly now, “She f-followed me up, and…” There was a sharp intake of breath, and Dick pressed farther into Jason’s side. “I don’t remember if I refused…I…I thought I did, but. But her hands were everywhere. They didn’t stop, Jay. She didn’t…She just kept taking and touching.”

Jason’s mind blanked with pure, unbridled fury as the piece slid into place. Dick Grayson, the eldest son, the cheerful golden boy, the unstoppable force, and the immovable object, had been assaulted, raped, by some sick woman. He had been taken advantage of while in a vulnerable state, in shock of all things. Jason didn’t remember the last time he was this angry.

“I know I should’ve pushed her off. I know I was a failure for not doing that.” Dick continued rambling, his voice hoarse and choppy, and Jason would stand for none of it.

“You’re not a failure, Dick.” He said, squeezing his brother’s shoulders and letting the older go boneless beside him. “You aren’t to blame for anything like that. You were in shock. You were taken advantage of. You can’t control what decisions she made.”

“But…Jay, you don’t understand. She was smaller, and I should’ve-“

“I do get it.” Jason breathed, Dick’s sudden silence an indication that he had heard. Gulping, Jason finally opened his eyes, though he was only staring at the ceiling. No secrets. Show his cards. Show that he was here. Show that he cared.

“What?” Dick seemed breathless, like Jason’s words had just sucked all the air from his lungs.

Jason held one of the cards that he hid behind so many of the others, a card no one other than he and the person responsible knew about. “Talia wasn’t…the best.” He whispered, slowly and hesitantly pulling that card out of his mind and letting it drop from his lips. “I understand feeling like you had all your choices taken from you and used as…” He trailed off, breathing. He didn’t think this particular trauma of his affected him anymore. Apparently, he thought wrong. “She was smaller than me too, but I couldn’t fight back or get her off.”

Dick made a wounded sound. “You…You- went through it?”

Jason nodded, not taking his eyes off the old, cracking paint of the ceiling. “So, believe me when I tell you that I understand… It’s not my fault for what happened to me. It’s not your fault for what happened to you.”

“I’m so sorry that happe-“

“Don’t. I don’t need an apology from you, Dickie. I’m not going to apologize for what happened to you either. It’s not our place. That shit doesn’t…really help, in my experience. You wanna know what does help though?”

Dick hummed, curious despite the tears and sniffles.

“Having someone to listen to you helps more than any empty apology could. Those words don’t matter. Letting someone near you does. Finally being able to trust someone with your pain without judgement. That is what matters.” He felt his voice drop to a barely-there rumble. Maybe he could just blame that on the citrus-sized lump in his throat.

Dick nodded against him, and there was another, now familiar silence for a second or five. “I hate her.” He admitted quietly.

“I hate her too.” Jason agreed, but he knew who Dick was talking about. Even now, Dick would worry more about someone else’s problems than his own. He squeezed Dick’s shoulder again before adding, “I hate what she did to you.”

There was quiet for a little while. Jason was still holding Dick against his side, but one of Dick’s hands had moved to wrap around the other side of his neck. Jason felt a finger against the pulse point under his jaw and sighed, leaning his head just slightly into the shaking hand. They sat like this for a little while, basking in quiet understanding and unspoken promises to stay.

“I thought I’d gotten over most of it by now.” Dick started again, and the sniffles had died down for the time being, “But…There’ve been an uptick in harassment and assault cases here recently. And I just…I keep hearing them and seeing them, and it takes me back to…to the times it happened to me.”

Times, plural. Jason wondered if the Mirage incident he kept getting references to was similar to what happened with Tarantula. Now wasn't at all the time to ask.

“It brought back those memories and feelings, huh?”

Dick nodded again and sighed. “I’m so tired anymore. I’m so tired of these cases. I want to help people, try to make sure they don’t go through the same thing, but…I haven’t been able to sleep without waking up screaming. I feel like I'm drowning every time I go to do something for myself.” Like eating, was an unspoken but implied phrase in there.

“Last night, you didn’t scream.” Jason pointed out, letting his head drop so his cheek rested on the top of Dick’s head.

“You’re a good pillow, I guess.” Dick mused, but the playfulness in his tone didn’t reach Jason’s ears.

“You weren’t alone with your thoughts and her. Might have something to do with it.”

Dick hummed but didn’t continue that train of thought. “You’re weirdly good at this. Did you know that?”

“Who knew, the murderous zombie crime lord can help therapize his family.” Jason deadpanned, but he knew that there was a small smile on his face that Dick couldn’t see.

“When you say it like that…” Dick chuckled, wiping his eyes and shaking his head as best he could in their current position.

“I’m a trauma expert, Dickie. You ever need to talk about anything, I’m here.”

“I don’t know if being a trauma expert is something to be proud of, Little Wing.”

Jason simply huffed, feigning indignity, and let more of his weight drop onto Dick’s shoulders. “As long as it helps you, I’d go through it again.” He really hadn’t meant to say that out loud. It wasn’t like it was false, but he usually just tried to avoid acknowledging thoughts like that.

He would go through all his pain and suffering over again if it meant his siblings could heal. He himself wasn’t worth those sort of tears or actions, but for his brothers and sisters? He’d do anything, even if he never told them as much. Until now, apparently.

“Don’t do that.” Dick chided, though he sounded a bit more concerned than what Jason thought was necessary.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Dickhead.” He snorted back, using his free arm to push off the side of the couch and crush Dick into the couch.

There was an “oomph” forced out of his brother’s lungs, and Jason just smirked as he pushed himself up only to crash back down onto Dick’s chest. “You’re not gonna be alone again.”

Quickly recovering from the movement, Dick lightly smacked the back of Jason’s head. “You think I’d complain about that?”

Jason smirk melted into a fond but mischievous smile. “No, but you’re gonna get so tired of me hanging around. You’ll probably start putting out rat poison to try and get rid of me.”

Dick’s flat expression and rolling eyes were gold in Jason’s eyes. If they could get through their traumas like this, together and quiet and without violence, then Jason considered that a major win.

Well, without violence towards each other anyway. He batted his eyes at Dick, pulling his best pitiful puppy eyes. “Can I turn her into a nugget for you?” He cooed sweetly in question and tilted his head to add to the effect.

Dick sputtered and looked at him incredulously. “Jay- what?”

“Y’know…Not kill her but. You don’t need limbs to live.” He clarified, smiling.

Dick’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “I-“

“I really want to kill her for hurting you like that, but I know you probably wouldn’t want me to do that. So…permanent crippling? I could take a few less essential organs too. Just enough to keep her alive, you know?”

Dick stared at him like he’d grown a second him. After a second though, he did something completely unexpected.

He laughed.

It started small, like he wasn’t sure whether he should be laughing at Jason’s words or not, but it grew into a full-on belly laugh that jostled Jason’s head from where it lied. The laughter lasted for a solid minute and a half before petering out. Dick just shook his head and patted Jason’s head. “Maybe another day.”

Jason hummed, content enough with the answer, and continued acting as Dick’s personal blanket.

Dick huffed another chuckle and shook his head again. “You’re something else, Little Wing.” The words held no accusation, just an odd fondness that Jason knew he’d have to get used to.

“I am a black hole after all.” Jason replied smugly, throwing Dick’s previous description of him out, “Oooh. Y’know. Since I’m a black hole, wouldn’t she need to be spaghettified or something? I can put her on a stretcher table and rip her limbs off that way. Be more accurate and all.”

Dick only laughed again, tears coming to his eyes for different reasons than before.

This was progress. This was healing, the quiet sort that happened away from prying eyes and accusing lips. This was the type of healing that was to be treated as a precious treasure they could share.

It wasn’t the last talk they’d have about their issues by any means. Jason knew that much, but as he glanced around to look at the old apartment, a broken chair, unfinished breakfast, and the sunbeams streaming through the window, which conveniently lit up Dick’s face like a glowing halo, he thought that maybe it wouldn’t be too bad.

Maybe this little safe haven in this apartment and wrapped in his brother’s kindness would be a secret he could keep away from anyone else. Maybe they could, for the first time in their lives, be thicker than thieves and closer than the distant stars they had been.

Maybe, through the tears and the laughter and the teasing and the gentle words, the two biggest birds of the flock could finally truly heal in a way that matter. In a way that was permanent.

Jason smiled at the notion, and he heard his own laughter rising to match his brother's. How silly, that it took so many years for them to finally talk. If he knew that this was how it turned out, he would’ve come crashing through Dick’s window ages ago.

‘Oh well.’ He thought, as the laughter died down, let his head rested back on Dick’s chest, and careful, shaking, fingers crawled into his hair. ‘Better late than never.’