Birds of a Feather

pt. 1

Jason shoved the key into the keyhole before turning it, the keychain jingling and rattling as he shoved the door open. He let out a deep sigh as he let the door swing shut behind him. The darkness of his apartment enveloped him as he shoved the keys back into his pocket.

He had went grocery shopping for the first time in two weeks, his fridge was bare and whatever was left were either spoiled or just plain disgusting. He was about to walk towards the kitchen to set down the four grocery bags on his wrists when he smelled something.

It smelled like rust, the familiar scent of iron and water. But Jason knew better than that, he knew what it really was. Blood.

He quickly set the grocery bags down, and got into a fighting stance in case he needed to strike. He slowly reached for the light switch, suddenly hyper aware of everything around him. The light breeze on his face; Jason was sure he didn't leave any windows open. The smell of blood lingering in the air; he's certain it wasn't the smell of his own blood. Surely, he'd know if he was bleeding. The eerie silence was deafening. If someone had broken in, they had probably already left.

But what Jason saw when the light fell upon his living room knocked the air out of his lungs.

There on the floor, a man was laying on his stomach in a pool of his own blood. Jason didn't need to see his face to know who it was.

"Dick?" his voice was barely above a whisper, as if his tongue was tied.

Suddenly, realisation came rushing to him.

"Dick?! Holy shit!"

Jason rushed towards his brother, completely forgetting about the grocery bags by the door.

Dick was still in his Nightwing suit, a large gash on his side with blood seeping out of it. His arms were splayed above his head, a bloody escrima stick next to his right arm. The other escrima stick was broken in half, with only one half still strapped on Dick's back. The other half nowhere to be found.

He had broken the window in Jason's living room, he intended on staying a while, just to get himself patched up. But he lost more blood than he thought, he had only taken a few steps into the living room before passing out and faceplanting onto the floor.

Jason noticed the trail of bloody footprints from Dick's body to the broken window. He'd curse at his brother for breaking his window, but he was too caught up in the fact that Dick was laying in a pool of his own blood. He flipped him over, quickly placing a finger beneath his nose to make sure he's still breathing, letting out a small sigh of relief when he realised Dick was still alive.

He quickly pushed his palm onto the gash, trying to stop the bleeding. A loud, painful groan rumbled from Dick's throat, obviously disagreeing with the new pressure on his side.

"Dick? Can you hear me?" Jason asked quietly as he hoisted his brother over his shoulder, putting him in a fireman's carry.

"Hrrn.." Dick mumbled.

"What the hell happened to you?" Jason asked as he carried Dick towards his bedroom, not caring that Dick's blood was all over him now.

When he was met with no reply, Jason concluded that Dick had once again lost consciousness. He soon realised the only reason Dick regained his consciousness was because he had palmed his wound; the pain must've jolted him awake.

He placed Dick on his bed, mentally cursing himself for having changed the sheets just the day before. The next wash day was gonna be such a pain the ass.

Quickly jogging back towards the kitchen, rummaging through his cupboard to find the first aid kit he kept. He rushed back to Dick's side the moment his hand felt the familiar handle of the kit.

"Oh, he is so gonna kill me for this," he mumbled before tearing through Dick's Nightwing suit to expose the wound more. He raked his hand through the now open kit, searching for a syringe of morphine. He heard Dick let out a sigh as he injected the morphine into him.

He made quick work of the gash, stitching it together and wrapping a piece of gauze around his brother's torso. Alfred would be disappointed if he saw how sloppy his stitch work was.

Jason smiled as he thought of Alfred, he missed the English man, more than he'd like to admit. He missed all of them: Bruce, Tim, Duke, Babs, Steph, Cass, even Damian. He let out a sigh as he recalled the last time he had spoke to them.

Refusing to dwell on what happened months ago, he prepared some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table.

Lord knows he's gonna need it when he wakes up. He thought to himself.

Jason pulled up a chair next to the bed, and was about to sit down when he remembered Dick still covered in blood.

He went to his laundry room, he grabbed a bucket and filled it with water, and took a wash cloth with him. He was walking to the bathroom to grab a bottle of soap when something caught his eye in the kitchen, a small black pager on the floor; it must've fell out of the cupboard when he was looking for the first aid kit earlier.

Bruce had given him that pager last year, it was supposed to work as a panic button, to alert the big bad Bat if he needed anything. Jason contemplated on using it, but how could he? After the way their last conversation ended all those months ago. He had said some harsh things he couldn't take back, even though he knew he didn't really mean them.

The right thing to do was to contact Bruce. Jason knew that; he just had to put his ego aside. For Dick.

After all, Dick was still Bruce's son. And any father deserves to know when or if their child is in danger.

Sighing in defeat, Jason reached for the pager. Pressing the small grey button, he watched as the screen started to flash before the familiar Bat logo glowed. Indicating that the signal had gone through. He placed the pager on the counter before continuing to the bathroom for that soap.

He sat next to Dick and tore the remaining pieces of his Nightwing suit off his body. He let his mind wander as he slowly wiped the blood off Dick's torso.

His last conversation with his family, nearly 10 months ago.