The Reds And The Robins

9) To Kill a Mockingbird

After dropping Damian off at the house behind an appropriate amount of layers of security, Jason began cruising along the Gotham roads at 40 miles above the speed limit and finally stopped in an alleyway. It was a dark, grimy place. Jason wondered why Dick had ended up here. After surveying the Alley and catching no sight of Dick, Jason rolled his eyes and shot his grappling hook.

He pulled himself up onto the ledge, immediately began stretching his muscles and bones and then glanced around at his surroundings. On the opposite end of the rooftop, Dick stood in his Nightwing costume. Many of the Bats had very separate civilian identities and vigilante personas. Dick's was probably the closest to his reality, with almost no distinction between what made up Dick Grayson and the Nightwing.

The tremor in his hand, however, was undeniably Dick Grayson.

"Nightwing?" He called. He surveyed for danger and his eyes landed on the ground next to Dick. Limbs splayed in every direction caught his eye. Green hair stood up on end desperately, charcoal fried. Undeniably the Joker.

(Probably.)

Makeup was crusted on the end of one of Dick's escrima, white face paint flaking on the tarmac. "Nightwing, I'm gonna need a fuckin' summary." He said, dashing across the roof. There was very little pretty about a corpse, there was something inherently wrong about a chest stilled of movement and something even more wrong with a brain leaking from a head's cavity.

"No more dead Robins." Dick said, his eyes searching Jason's helmet pleadingly.

Shit. "Wing, what do you need?"
"I need to hide this body."
"Cool." Jason said. "Let's cremate the fucker. Even Talia can't piece ashes back together."
"Okay." Dick said. He was following Jason's lead, it made sense. Jason nodded affirmatively and kicked the Joker's dead body. "Forehand or backhand, motherfucker?" He said, kicking the bastard again. "Or we could blow him to smithereens. Which might be easier than sneaking into a crematorium and praying."

"Okay." Dick said. "Got anywhere you want to blow up?"
"Um. I don't know, fuck, there's a drugs shipment going on at the docks. Would be a shame if someone were to disrupt one of the containers."
"Real shame." Dick nodded. "Shouldn't have killed the bastard on a rooftop, gonna be a pain to get him down."

Jason looked at Dick and realised he was serious. Then, he kicked the fucker over the top of the roof. "Sorted." He said, beginning to scale down the fire escape and firmly not thinking about Dick beating a man to death with a fucking taser/stick crossbreed. Then, he glanced at Dick. "How long's it gonna take to get the dickhead to the docks?"
"You can't just kick him!"
"You literally just killed the guy."
"Too soon."

Dick paused, and looked at Jason. "It has occurred to me I should've asked this first, but you won't tell B about this?"
"I still owe you for that one time you bought chips, so yeah, we'll call it even."
"Doesn't seem equal."
"Wing, you killed the Joker, it's a fucking public service." Jason said, scaling down the fire escape. Dick followed, somewhat mutely for the kid that used to cartwheel on teeny tiny window ledges at the Manor. Dick was muted. It felt wrong.

"Right. Help me lift the fucker?" Jason asked, hauling a leg up. "Down to drag him but that may aroused more suspicion, and I'm not down for a police chase."
"Police aren't organised enough for a chase." Dick said without thinking. "Oh, shit, Gordon."
"Gordon." Jason confirmed, and began sprinting towards the docks. "C'mon, Goldilocks, we have a fuckin' drug bust!"

The two made the docks in record time, possibly horrifying Two-Face by running a fucking body across town. They snuck the corpse into a shipping container and Jason threw a bomb quickly. "Run!" He yelled, hurling himself away from the explosion and down towards the ground. Dick grabbed his arm and pulled him further away.

A bang echoed, with a large flash of light illuminating Dick's face against the Gotham smog. Jason tossed another explosive, for good measure, even as the scent of burning flesh filled his nose.

The container shattered, spewing fragments every which way. Were they still in the old Robin costumes, it would've hurt like a bitch what with all the exposed skin and light padding. Fortunately, both had upgraded and Dick shielded his head, protecting from most of the damage. Yells from goons (likely Penguin's) echoed through the narrow alleys of containers and Jason sprint started as Dick stumbled to his feet, away from the explosion. They started to flee the scene, pulling themselves up to a rooftop with a hook.

Jason began cackling madly, staring down at the chaos. One of the containers was crumpled to the ground, smouldering as goons rushed around in a crazed fashion. "D'you wanna stay at our apartment tonight?" He said, wheezing for breath (mostly at the entire ridiculous situation). "Yeah." Dick said, before nodding. "Yeah, that would be great."
"Cool. You might have to stay on the floor, by the way."
"Don't you have a couch?"

Jason glared at Dick. "That's literally where me and Damian are sleeping?"
"Don't you have bedrooms?" Dick asked. Poor guy probably meant well. Jason meant that he was a wanker, however. "Yeah. Abusive dad and dead child's, weigh it up."
"Fuckin hell, fair enough." Dick said as they soared over rooftop gaps with ease. "It kinda feels like home up here." He added. "Flying again."
"Don't do the emotional vulnerability crap, it's like 1am and I just exploded a body." Jason said, finally reaching his bike at the place Dick murdered the Joker.

"Helmet?" Jason said, holding one out expectantly as Dick attempted to board the bike without one. "Where the fuck did you get that?" Dick asked.
"Secret." Jason said, awaiting Dick fastening it. Dick did so under Jason's stare, and Jason finally kicked off the ground and cruised at a neat 70 miles per hour.  He slowed down as they approached. It wouldn't do to wake up Damian after all.

"You're such a dad." Dick accused, sliding off the bike. Jason smiled, thanking God he wore a helmet so no one could see his face. "Yeah, guess so." He said stupidly, stowing Dick's helmet back into one compartment or another before tip-toeing up to his flat. Damian would likely wake up anyway. A man could try.

Jason slipped into the flat, avoiding triggering any alarms only to find his kid's eyes staring through the dark. "Hi, Dami." He said, voice rough. "Dick's gonna stay the night on the floor."
"Interloper." Damian hissed.
"My brother?"
"Interloper." Damian confirmed.
"Kid, I'm tired. He won't kill you in your sleep, I would love it if you didn't kill him."
"Please." Dick tacked on. His voice was even worse off from the smoke and the lateness. Damian huffed, crossed his arms and put his sword on the coffee table. "Count yourself lucky, Grayson."
"1,2, me, lucky." Dick said. Damian hissed and, before he could launch himself at Dick, Jason grabbed him.

"C'mon, I wanna sleep, kiddo." He said, pulling Damian into his chest. Damian snapped his teeth at Dick, who cooed. Moron. "It's really late, please." Jason asked as Damian attempted to launch himself at Dick once more. "Please." Dick emphasised. "Father, you smell like smoke." Damian announced. Jason groaned. "I'm also still in my suit, but if you're gonna kill Dick when he's tired the second I leave..."
"Fine, I won't." Damian said sulkily, crossing his arms grumpily as he flung himself backwards on the couch. Jason nodded and began removing suit parts on his way to the bathroom. He pulled on sweatpants and a muscle tee before returning to the living room.

He glanced at Damian, still on the couch, and Dick, still alive. Successful parenting! He crawled back onto the couch and pulled Damian onto his chest before immediately dozing off in exhaustion.

The Joker was dead, his kid was safe and his baby brother had been returned home. Perhaps this whole life thing wasn't as bad as previously believed.