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Nightwing was finishing up his patrol when the distress call went out.
It was Red Hood. That made Dick pause. Jason must really be in trouble if he was asking for the Bats' help. Which… well, Batman couldn't answer because he was confined to bedrest after injuring his hip. Robin wasn't allowed to go on solo missions like this just yet, and besides, Tim should be in bed by now because of his math test in the morning. He wasn't even sure if Babs was in Gotham, and no one else had answered so… it was up to him to save his brother.
There was no question of him going. He just wasn't sure how fast he could get there, if it would be fast enough this time. If he'd make it in time to save Jason-
He changed direction mid-swing, wincing as the line tugged on his sprained wrist from a few days ago, and headed to Gotham.
By the time he made it to Gotham half an hour later, the tracker for the distress call had moved slightly. Usually that was a good sign, because it meant that Jason wasn't unconscious. Unless he was, and someone had dragged him away, which was less good. The thought made him move just a little quicker.
When he got to the location, the streets were quiet. It was a rougher part of Gotham, the type with dilapidated buildings, tools still scattered around from some halfhearted attempt to help some months ago. Any people in sight kept to themselves, dressed in dark clothes and shuffling along the walls with their heads down.
Red Hood was nowhere in sight.
He crouched at the edge of the rooftop and checked the tracker again, frowning when it showed the red dot that was Jason supposedly two steps away. Nightwing scanned the street below him again, but- wait, there. The manhole. Jason wasn't two steps away, he was two steps away and far below.
Dick swung down, grimacing as the pain from his wrist shot up his shoulder. He landed slightly harder than usual, spooking a man nearby who just shuffled away. Maybe he'd done a little more than sprain his wrist… but that was a problem for another time. He had to get to Jason first.
Normally, a manhole cover would be easy for him to deal with. However, with his wrist in the shape it was, he might need some help. Looking around, he spotted the perfect tool.
Jason had been lying here so long that the smell barely made him gag anymore. Maybe he'd gotten used to it from the wafts that still made it inside his helmet, or maybe he'd lost enough blood to make him somehow lose his sense of smell, but he appreciated it either way. Whoever - if anyone - was answering his distress call really was taking their sweet time while he waited there, bleeding out and staving off a fear-gas-induced panic attack.
It was nearing the forty minute mark, and he was starting to give up when he heard scraping echo around the tunnel. He steeled himself, propping his arm on his knee so he could aim his gun at the manhole cover without tearing the wound in his side even more.
The manhole cover slowly lifts, letting in weak shafts of moonlight into the dark of the sewers until the cover is gone completely, leaving a spotlight silhouetting a figure holding… a fucking crowbar.
Fuck no.
Jason's finger tightens on the trigger, but he doesn't shoot because the silhouette is familiar in a nice way, and not at all like that stupid clown but the fear gas is clouding his emotions and it's only his instincts left. His instincts recognise the grace with which the figure jumps down into the sewers. His instincts make him want to immediately run into his brother's arms and hold on tight when he hears "Little Wing, that you?"
But he's not Robin anymore. Nightwing isn't his role model, and Dick isn't his brother. He came to help Jason, but that makes them allies at best, and nothing more.
"You've got a lot of nerve to dredge up all my fears," Jason growls, savouring the way his helmet distorts the words.
Nightwing's eyes widen behind the mask as he seems to realise what he's holding. "Shit," he hisses, tossing the crowbar aside immediately like it suddenly became electrified. "I'm sorry, Jay, I didn't- I wasn't thinking."
Jason barely hears him. His brain is still flinching from the metallic clatter of the crowbar as it'd hit the ground, setting off the fear gas so much more effectively than just the sight of it. He doesn't realise his body is shaking, but it's because he's focused on his steady finger, still holding the trigger. As if sensing what he's thinking, Dick's attention flickers towards the gun.
"Hey," Dick says softly, and Red Hood hates it because this is unequivocally Dick, talking to his Little Wing Jason, to his younger brother. To a person that Jason isn't anymore. "Fear gas?"
He hates how easily Dick clocks it. How easily Nightwing can still read him. He hasn't stopped fucking shaking. He was fine this entire time, the forty minutes since he'd escaped and dragged himself down here. Yet the second the Golden Boy shows up, it's like Jason's guard dropped without his consent and all of the adrenaline decided it wasn't needed anymore. It leaves him fighting off the last vestiges of the fear gas while the pain and blood loss tries to blindside him.
Nightwing slowly steps closer, arms outstretched like he's approaching a wounded animal. Jason guesses he is a wounded animal, in a way. At least in Dick's eyes.
"What other injuries do you have?" Dick continues to ask, looking Jason over for himself. Even from that, he can probably answer his own question, but Dick is giving Jason some control over the situation. Jason just fucking hates everything. Hates himself for wanting this, for the part of him deep inside that is so happy it's Dick who came to get him, because he knows exactly how to handle this situation, how to handle Jason. He's doing everything perfectly, and yet, Jason can only be angry. And he hates himself for it.
"Jay?"
"Names," Jason says immediately, out of habit, and because what else can he say?
"Right. Hood, why don't you put the gun away so I can get a good look at your side?"
Oh. That's what he's so worried about.
It's more effort than it's worth to keep the gun steady anyway, so Jason lets his arm slide off of his knee. He straightens his leg with a pained hiss to let Dick see the wound. Nightwing frowns at the sight.
"Can I…?" He asks, and Jason rolls his eyes under the mask.
"I won't bite." Dick steps closer hesitantly, and because he can, Jason continues. "Shoot you, maybe, but no biting."
Dick huffs, crouching down next to Jason. It's an almost visible switch, Nightwing immediately taking over to assess the wound.
"Gunshot or laceration?"
"Gun."
"Exit wound?"
"I'd have bled out ten years ago if that was the case, Goldie."
Dick makes a face at that, before he's serious again. "The fear gas, you got an antidote?"
"Took it, but it's lingering," Jason admits. The hallucinations and active panic attack are gone, but they left behind nasty paranoia, and his nervous system is still buzzing, heart beating too fast.
"Anything else?" Dick eyebrow's furrow. "Think you can move? We need to get you out of here before an infection sets in."
"Bastard kicked me in the ankle, but I'll be fine. Just… help me up."
Nightwing nods, standing and holding out a hand.
Dick had just knocked Jason's legs out under him for the fifth time during this training session alone. Jason's butt is numb to the training mats by now, but Dick still holds out a hand to help him up, grinning. "Like I said, watch my face, not my feet. Come on, one more try and you'll knock me down this time, I know it." Jason reached out to grab Dick's offered hand….
And pulls himself up. He stumbles, dark spots filling his vision. His side burns, breath coming fast and making his hands shake again. Maybe he passes out for a second, or maybe he just loses track of time, but he slowly blinks away the spots and his hearing cuts back in to hear Dick's voice.
"-ey, hey, Jay, you with me?"
"Names," Jason warns again, but Dick just ignores it.
"Are you sure you can walk?"
"I'm fine," Jason bites out. "Let's just get out of here. There's a ladder down there somewhere." He gestures to their left, already turning unsteadily to face that direction. He pretends the world doesn't tilt with the movement.
Nightwing smoothly ducks under one of Jason's arms, slinging it over his shoulders as he weaves one hand around Jason's waist. "Lead the way."
Dick's night of surprises doesn't seem to end. He was planning to take Jason to one of his own safe-houses a little ways away, but Red Hood directs them to one of his safe-houses instead. It's closer, and that's probably the only reason Jason's allowing it - he looks worse by the second - but it still surprises Dick.
He knows better than to push his luck though. Once he gets Red Hood through the door of the safe house, Jason pushes away from him, stumbling to the bathroom. Dick waits long enough to watch and make sure his brother doesn't pass out, waits an extra minute or so just in case, then turns to leave.
"Wait," Jason calls out, and Dick pauses. That's Jason's voice, no helmet distorting it. Despite the situation, a smile finds its way onto his face.
"Yeah?" He calls back, and Jason peeks his head out the bathroom, no helmet or shirt.
"Just wanted to say that you owe me, for the crowbar thing," Jason scowls.
"Jay, I really am sorry, I didn't mean to- "
"Yeah yeah, whatever, you still owe me." Jason's voice gets slightly faint as he disappears back into the bathroom. "I expect a meal or case or something by next month or I charge interest."
"I saved you, though," Dick protests, but he's fighting to hide a grin because he sees what Jason's really getting at. "Surely that's enough."
"Saved me," Jason scoffs. "I would have made it out myself at some point."
"Then why send the distress signal, huh? There's easier ways to hang out with me, you know."
"You wish. Speaking of, get out before I shoot you. I assure you, even with a busted up side, I'm still a damn good shot."
"Okay, okay, I'm going. You're welcome, or whatever, Little Wing."
There's a pause, and Dick's smile drops, worrying he messed everything up, but Jason speaks a moment later.
"Or whatever. Now, get going. Tell anyone about this place and a bullet will be the least of your problems."
A gun pops out of the bathroom this time, and Dick surrenders.
"See you around, Red Hood."
"See you never, Dickface."
Dick still leaves with a smile on his face, because Jason is wrong. He owes Jason. As stupid as it is, that was Jason giving him permission to come back and soon. A win is a win, even if the cost of it was Jason almost dying.
His wrist barely hurts when he swings away this time.