no rest for the wicked [jason todd]

forty six

HOW HAD THINGS GONE WRONG,

you might be asking. Why couldn't Jason save Tye like a damsel-in-distress and a shining white knight story? Maybe because he was mentally unstable, and when he found out Dick had escaped without her, he'd shot him in the shoulder without hesitation. So, they'd decided he was a little unstable, slapped some cuffs on him and put him behind bars for now. He was still in their care but -- okay, Batman would be pissed, but he'd be angry Jason shot Dick too.

So, pushing Jason out of the whole rescue-process, Dick tried to group together the best rag-tag team he could make last minute. He had Barbara, Roy and they'd reluctantly kept Slade around -- and hey, he'd also taken to calling some of his not-really-around friends anymore. Not many could make it last minute, but he got Donna and Wally on the phone and they'd promised to help around.

He reminded himself he really needed to get all of them on the phone more.

So, that's how things had gone. Tag-teams of all of them looking for Tye in every stupid place they thought they could find her, and Dick was surprised to get a call from Roy a week later, telling him that he was trying to work that damned case in Pennsylvania when he'd spotted some sketchy looking vans drive through a side road near where he'd parked a rental car.

He didn't tell Jason until Roy was half an hour away, and that's where they were now.

"Jason?" Dick attempted, propping the door open and peeking in to look toward where Jason was, slumped against the wall. His hair looked ratty, tangled, and when Dick said his name, he barely looked up. "Tye's on route to us, about thirty minutes out."

He watched the light hit Jason's eyes, the sudden sparkling greeny-blue, a sudden stark contrast against his dark hair and sunken eyes. "Really?" He asked now, his voice soft and his expression shaky. His voice firmed up when he said now, "You're kidding me, Dick, she's... Okay? Oh my God, man," he pushed his back against the wall and he stood up to his feet, eyebrows raised. "She's okay."

"You shot me," Dick said a moment later, "right in the shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, Jason. Don't step any further or I'm gonna grab a knife."

Jason's expression turned back to the unsure one, one where he seemed like he was thirteen all over again, scared and just needing someone to hold him. "She could have died," he said, his voice nearly dying out at the end when he spoke, "she's... You promised to keep her safe at work, Dick, and you... You didn't, you lost her, how was I supposed to--" His voice cracked and he broke off, clenching his jaw now. "How was I meant to react?" He asked, his voice hard, a scary facade to fight off his fear. "How was I supposed to react, Gotham Golden Boy? Please, tell me."

"Jason, Jay," Dick tried, "you can't blame me for this, Tye and I are partners."

Jason scanned Dick's face, and finally, he turned away. "I can blame you," he said, "because if you and Gordon and fucking Bruce had left her be, Dick, she wouldn't have ended up anywhere near any of us. I'd rather her be safe than in my fucking miserable life."

"You can't seriously..." The older man didn't know what to say as he let his voice show what he was feeling, breaking when he realized how right Jason was. They could have left Tye in that peaceful oblivion, an officer with a passion and hope for the world, someone who went home day-to-day. Someone who wouldn't end up kidnapped and maybe near death, someone who was safe and didn't think about going out at night to kick ass and...

God, was he crying--?

He wouldn't let Jason see him like that, so he pulled the door shut, clicked the lock shut and then leaned his back against it.

It was a bad time for Wally West to show up, crunching some barbecue chips in his mouth and pulling the Flash cowl off his head. Messy ginger hair fell into his bright green eyes, and when he noticed the tears in Dick's, he paused. He shut his mouth, swallowed hard and then abandoned the chips on the nearest flat surface. "Dickie," he said, reaching for his hand now, "buddy, come on, what's up?"

"Jason's right," Dick whispered, looking up at Wally, "man, Walls, she'd be safe if we hadn't roped her into this. Tye wouldn't know about Red Hood or Nightwing as anything other than myths. Black Mask wouldn't have touched her--"

Slade cleared his throat. "If you're talking about my daughter," he said, kicking one foot out and crossing it over the other as he leaned against the pole, "I don't doubt she would have been safer if you guys hadn't fucked everything up, but listen here, okay? We can't change the past. We can't, it's written in stone, but you know what fucking isn't? The future. Make it better, don't spend your life worrying about what shitty things you messed up. Just don't do them again."

"Inspiring," Wally said sarcastically, "I'm sure that's super helpful there, Deathstroke."

"It is, actually," Dick told Wally, patting his shoulder. He glanced toward Slade with narrowed eyes and finally said, "We're clear, right? Wait a couple days before you tell her anything about the parentage craziness. She's gonna need rest and food before we wanna drop any big information on her."

"I'm not an idiot, Grayson," Slade told him, "I'm aware how healing works. I'm not about to throw her into a state of shock."

Dick sighed loudly, visibly calmer by that statement. "I just need to see that she's okay," he told Wally, looking up at his friend. "Jason — he needs that too, but... She's my friend, Walls, I can't help but feel worried."

"You're acting like you feel a lot more toward her than friendship, Dick," his friend told him, "I'm not a relationship counsellor but... Man, you're acting whipped."

"Shut up, Wally."