Cognitive Dissonance

Chapter 1: Piqued

He should have stayed dead.

Throwing a small piece of cold steel in the air, his feet took precise steps to the living room at the west wing of the manor. The familiarity he has of this place is unquestionable. He can reach any space, nook, and corner he wants to go to even on blind fold.

Catching the returning boomerang with indifference, he nibbled on his lower lip and threw it again. It traced the length of the extensive hall and his hand caught it back before his left foot even touched the living room. A smirk formed on his face as he entered the empty territory.

The manor's butler, Alfred, explicitly informed him that it is off limits for a few moments, and he has a bit of an idea why. Richard Grayson is, without a doubt, coming home. It however, still is a mystery, why he insists that this specific area in the building should be emptied at his behest.

Stopping by the huge glass windows, he crossed his arms on his chest and stared outside. Nothing has changed. The weather remained dull on this side of the city. The outdoors looked gray and the leaves on the trees, still.

The only thing that's changed is the fact that he's standing here. Very much alive when he should have been six feet under. It is unfortunate, really. He was better off gone.

Fixing his gaze on the reflection he made on the glass, he lifted the boomerang to his face. The object cool on his skin. He used it to push the strands of his hair off his eyes. Another thing that's new is the appearance of white streaks on his head that was once full of black hair.

Other than these obvious shifts in his physical form, the rest lingered. He still has a lot of rage left in his system that it may very well be the reason why his soul fought to stay in his body. If anything, he can feel it more excessively than before.

"What are you doing here?"

The familiar voice he was expecting to hear  sooner than later, disturbed his reverie. A genuine smile broke on his face as he turned to where the sound came from. He is correct. Richard Grayson stood by the door, a pensive look on his face.

It wasn't long before he lost sight of Richard however. He didn't even notice that there is one more person in the room besides the two of them until that third person was standing in front of him. If he was surprised, he didn't show it. He is pretty good at schooling his features.

"Hi, I'm Rachel," she said cheerfully. Her expression too foreign than he cared to admit. It made it evident that she isn't part of the household.

"Jason," he replied as he extended his free hand for a shake.

The young lady named Rachel barely made an attempt to receive the gesture when the initial contact failed at the sound of Richard's voice. "This is no time for introductions. Rachel, I will show you your room and then we'll immediately head back out."

Jason watched as she nodded and made her way towards Richard without looking back. He couldn't help but shake his head at that. Not that he expected her to steal a glance at him over her shoulder. It was just so Richard to surround himself with people who scramble to their feet on his command.

"I never knew you to be the rude brother Dickie," Jason commented. "Does Bruce know about this?" he added, one of his eyebrows raised in question.

"You're brothers?" Rachel interrupted. It wasn't lost on her the name Jason used to refer to her temporary guardian. She shifted her eyes from Richard to Jason and then back. They didn't show any resemblance to each other at all.

"Does Bruce know you're here?" Richard asked back. Actively ignoring both teenagers' questions. It hasn't been five minutes and already, the air in the room is becoming tense.

"Old bat asked me to be here. I doubt it was the same for the both of you," Jason answered nonchalantly as he sat on the couch, seemingly disinterested. He even made a show of tracing the edges of his boomerang with his finger. His focus, on the steel in his hand.

When he looked up, he found Richard and his guest still in the room. A lopsided smile emerged on Jason's face at a realization. He most definitely hit a nerve there.

"No. But he will. And it's none of your business," Richard said resignedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Still the same Dick. He can't even lie to save himself.

"Chill bro, I don't mind," Jason responded, refering to the fact that Richard brought a guest without even informing Bruce Wayne, the owner of the manor. "And please, don't let me keep you," he supplied, gesturing to the exit.

"I'm sorry Jay," Richard said through gritted teeth before he gave Jason a curt nod while ushering Rachel out of the room.

There are two possible meanings Jason can think of which is behind that grinding of teeth. One, he managed to achieve his goal of annoying him -- the reason why he was in an off limits area in the first place -- or two, Dick Grayson just discerned he acted like a jerk and is mentally beating himself for realizing it late. Based on who Dick Grayson is as a person however, Jason knows it's the latter.

Tracing his finger on the cold steel in his hand for the last time, he later threw it with the force he has been keeping in check for the most of his teenage life. It easily connected and planted itself on the wood of the archway where Dick Grayson was standing just a few seconds ago. Good old Dickie, he thought.

With a heavy sigh, Jason pushed himself to stand up and went for the exit. He pulled his boomerang from where it buried itself with a tsk. Alfred sure is going to give him an earful for this.

On the plus side, his short trip from his bedroom to one of the common rooms in the manor proved to be worth his while. He was able to rile Dick up. That was kind of refreshing. Knowing that their relationship, among the many things that hasn't changed, is intact.

And there was this interesting addition to it too. At least from what he was able to observe in the short amount of time given to an initial encounter.

"Rachel, huh?"