That evening I found Dick in the cave looking at the giant dinosaur and other huge tokens,
"I wanted to say sorry." He spoke up, I didn't realize he knew I was right behind him,
"Huh?" I questioned stepping next to him as his eyes met mine,
"I'm sorry about earlier." He repeated,
"Oh, no problem, it's fine, I'm chill." I rambled lies. I was hurt, I was hurt because my big brother was hurt and not confiding in me,
"Dick," I started taking my gaze to my shoes, "you know you can tell me anything, right?"
"Of course, but Jason, I assure you I'm fine." He smiled brightly. I wanted to believe him so badly,
"What Damian said earlier, I-"
"He already apologized." Dick informed me, "not that it matters." He stuck his hands in his pockets, "I was an assassin, I did bad things, I can't change that."
"It wasn't your fault you were forced to." I defended, "plus, all the people you killed, they were murderers and bad people anyhow."
"No excuses. I still did it." He turned his glassy eyes to me, "I did it but I hated it, I hated it so bad." He concluded before Bruce's voice filled the room,
"Dick, let's train!" He said moving to the fancy shmancy boxing ring that we sparred in. Dick's face fell into a grimace. He caught me looking and gave a little smile before following Bruce's voice I kept up. I brought myself to sit outside the ring as Dick uncomfortably stood ready against Bruce,
"Is this necessary?" Dick questioned,
"I just want to gage where you're at." Bruce responded solemnly. Bruce took note of Dick's thin exterior before charging forward immediately throwing a punch at Dick who quickly ducked and at the same time brought his foot to Bruce's jaw hitting him harshly,
"Good one." Bruce growled. Dick didn't crack a smile at Bruce's rare complement, he only assumed a fighting position. Bruce came at him again in a flurry of attacks which Dick dodged and blocked most of except the few that pushed him back into the ropes. Dick quickly bounced back doing a flip over Bruce before kicking Bruce's back into the ropes. Dick then laid out some punches,
"Stop messing around Dick, surley Deathstroke thought you better." He teased as Dick's face flushed of color,
"Can we not talk about it." He uttered before taking a hit,
"What? Did he kick your butt too?" Bruce honestly had a smirk on his face. He didn't usually tease like this but he wasn't only gauging Dick's physical skills, he was gauging Dicks emotional trauma. I expected those kinds of comments from me, not Bruce. Dick was frustrated now, not outright but I could tell by his breathing patterns and red cheeks. Bruce reared back and threw a strong punch hoping it would be the one to knock Dick out. Only to be shocked when Dick caught his heavy punch so effortlessly. Dick swung his leg around in a kick that sent Bruce tumbling out of the ring. From near where I was sitting Bruce sat up with a groan,
"How in the world?" He asked, rubbing his head. Dick didn't break his look of discomfort he definitely didn't seem proud of himself or pat himself on the back rather he simply got out of the ring as fast as he could,
"Sorry." He said under his breath while rubbing the back of his neck due to the awkwardness of it all. I was beyond shocked, so beyond that my chair slid out from under me and I fell on my butt without once taking my eyes of Dick. I'd never seen someone catch the Batman's K.O. punch like that. After Dick left I began giggling hysterically like a kid at Bruce before he smacked me on the back of the head before walking off,
"That's what you get for being the worst parent ever." I mumbled under my breath rubbing where he smacked,
"Did you say something to me?" Bruce turned with a look of hurt and confusion. He hoped I didn't say what he thought I did, but I did, only realizing it afterward. It was cruel of me to say that, to think that. I seemed to just be making things worse, never better,
"Nothing, I didn't say anything." I lied, shooting an innocent smile at him.
Damian and Tim both came downstairs and began suiting up for patrol,
"Regular groups tonight? Me and Nightwing? Bruce, Robin, and Red Robin?" I said excitedly, ready to be back on the field with Nightwing,
"Actually, no, Jason." Bruce said with his whole 'I'm the leader, kneel before me, peasant' tone he always had, "Dick's not going out."
"Why not?" I almost raised my voice too much,
"Because he's not ready."
"What are you talking about?" He literally launched you out of the training ring,
"Yes." Bruce agreed, making both Robin and Red Robin shoot their wide eyes to Bruce in shock. A proud look subtly took shape in Damian's face. I guess since he looked up to Dick though he'd never admit it, "but he is emotionally not ready to be on the field." Bruce continued, "what if a thug starts to press the whole fact that Nightwing hasn't been around for the past eight or nine months. What if the thing says something Nightwing doesn't like and Nightwing roundhouse kicks his head off?" Bruce made a valid point but I didn't like it,
"Fine." I crossed my arms and sizzled like a stake, meaning I was mad and sulky but in a loose canon type of way. Okay, so I had a few drinks, sue me, I'm rich.
~~~~~~~~
It's late, I'm laying on the couch, Dicks somewhere. I assume in his room. I let my guard down and fell asleep, bad idea.
I was back on that rooftop, Dick being pryed away from me but this time it was Deathstroke, he was pulling him away arms around his chest. Dick screaming out for me as I was unable to stop Deathstroke, again, and again, and again. Only it didn't stop there. Deathstroke, he began to beat Nightwing into the ground smashing him to a bloody pulp.
"Nightwing!" screaming, I shot up on the couch in a cold sweat and breathless. In an instant Dick peaked his head around the corner,
"Yes?" He asked with a confused expression,
"I-I-" I dropped my face into my hands. For a moment I thought he was gone still. I felt a weight next to me, bringing my face up, I looked at him sitting next to me with those big round eyes staring into my soul, "I thought you were gone." I shook my head throwing my hands through my wavy hair,
"It's okay, it was just a bad dream." He comforted, comforted with bunny ears on both sides. I took this as an opportunity to dig into his time with Deathstroke,
"Do you have bad dreams?" I said knowing darn well he did especially now. But when I asked it felt all too much like I did when I was Robin, before I died. Back when Bruce and Dick were always fighting, I had a dream about something, I can't remember now, maybe about Scarecrow, I think, and I asked Dick the same question I just asked him, he said yes, he said it was a part of the job,
"No, never." Dick uttered with a senseless smile, shallow eye contact, and without being phased for one second. Did he think I'd believe that?
"Dick, I'm not in the mood to be lied to?"
"And I'm not in the mood to discuss nightmares." He stood up from the couch only to be dragged down back onto the couch by me. I could tell I had applied too much pressure to a bruise on his arm due to his wince he tried to hide. Now we were both looking at each other straight in the eyes with anger in our faces, "Jason, I'm sorry you had a bad dream, but I do not want to talk."
"Tough luck, because that's exactly what you're going to do!" I said with a raised voice. I may have been too harsh,
"Jason, we have to stop doing this." He sighed with his sad eyes,
"Doing what?" I crossed my arms,
"This! This game of interrogation!"
"Maybe if you would just talk about it, I wouldn't have to demand it."
"You don't even deserve it!" He lit me up, standing from his seat. Not going to lie, it hurt to hear, still didn't trust me. He began to walk out of the family room,
"Don't you dare leave this room or so help me-" I shouted, standing from the couch and stomping my foot to the ground. Dick stopped immediately with a jump at the thud of my foot. He turned around slowly to me, "you don't talk to me like that, you don't treat me like a stranger, and you definitely don't disregard all the years we've spent telling each other everything, because we're brothers, and we have to confide in eachother, because our lives are tough and if we keep pretending they're not then we end up doing some really dumb crap." I lectured him while he shrunk in stature at every step I took toward him,
"Jason, please, calm down." He seemed scared...of me,
"I-" I didn't know whether to take the upper hand I felt that I had or back off and make him feel more comfortable.
He sniffled and I pulled him into my arms but his body went rigid at my touch,
"Please don't." He gently pushed me away before wiping his eyes and straightening up, not once looking me in the eyes,
"Just talk to me." My voice softened, I began to notice how much smaller he was now, he looked almost frail, though I knew he was capable of throwing me threw a window,
"I'm tired." He shrugged with a sniffle,
"I know you are." I raised my hand to push back his hair when I stopped, I hesitated, then pulled my hand back to my other arm, "but you can't bottle this stuff up, it never works."
"I'm sorry." He turned from me once more but this time I let him go,
"You don't have to say sorry." I murmured too late, he was already gone. Alfred came in from another room as I hung my head. He started his father dusting with his sophisticated, regal, thing going on,
"Master Jason, may I suggest you be gentle with Master Richard, he's been through a whole lot and probably did not want to come home to the same circumstances he was in with the assassin." Alfred didn't give me a glance as he lectured me,
"Same circumstances?" I questioned,
"You get pretty abusive when you don't get your way, that scares him."
"But he's probably way stronger than me."
"Yeah, but he would never hurt you." Alfred's words made me think,
"But he knows I'd never hurt him, right?" I asked legitimately concerned that I had made it seem as though I'd hurt Dick,
"Obviously not." He rolled his eyes thinking I couldn't see, he was dusting a silver vase,
"Crap." I dropped my shoulders and drug myself out the room, out the door and to the bar...to think.