#grayson comic

Dick snorted, which had always been oddly endearing. “I mean, he’s being nice which is always weird but I’m pretty sure he’s fine.”

Tiger pressed the earpiece into place. Tim passed him a wrist computer disguised as a watch, which he used to tune the communicator to his first Spyral frequency.

“Dick asked nicely,” Jason said. “Of course he gave it to you.”

“I didn’t actually ask Bruce to give Tiger a communicator,” Dick corrected. “I just insisted we include Helena.”

“Same thing.”

“And I wasn’t fucking nice about it.”

Jason laughed. Dick glared. No one took him seriously.

“It’s cute when he tries to be serious,” said Stephanie.

“No, it is laughable,” said Damian.

Tiger left Dick to the mercy of his siblings and stepped into the hallway. He called Helena, who answered immediately.

“There you are. I was wondering if you’d forgotten about me.”

“You are a hard woman to forget,” Tiger replied.

“Aw, is Dick teaching you how to charm a lady?”

“Do you find him charming? I do not.”

“You’re fooling nobody,” Helena replied.

Tiger resisted the temptation to retort. “I have arranged a meeting with Checkmate next Thursday at thirteen hundred hours in Gotham City.”

“During the day? Huh.”

“Which means most of my current associates will not be available to provide backup.”

“So you’re asking me? I’m flattered.”

“Helena.”

“Relax. I’m available. I’ll get in touch with your people and arrange logistics.”

“My people?”

“Your boyfriend’s people. His father specifically.”

“I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Helena chuckled. “I’ll see you on Thursday.” She ended the call.

Tiger leaned against the wall behind him. He did not know how he felt about returning to Checkmate, only that it caused an unpleasant jittering sensation in his stomach.

Actually, he did know how he felt about it: awful.

Tiger had not been a standard agent for years. Now that his undercover mission was over, he did not feel a need to return to the way things had been before.

Even though his hands shook whenever he touched a gun and he hadn’t had a good night’s rest in so long he’d lost count, he would not trade that for a return to life before the Spyral mission. The realisation felt strange. Losing the ability to take orders and carry them out, no questions asked, no sleep lost… it felt like he’d lost a part of himself. A part of his identity.

And yet…

If he compared how he felt now to how he’d felt before going undercover…

Strange.

He was happier now. In an odd way. Checkmate had recruited him from Afghanistan when he was barely eighteen. He’d been old enough to fight, old enough to have a fearsome reputation, and yet…

He’d been so young.

So confused.

He was still confused today, but about different things. Perhaps confusion was a part of who he was. Well, at least that hadn’t changed, even if the source of his confusion had.

The young Tiger King of Kandahar had hidden his confusion, his uncertainty, behind fighting. There had always been someone to defend, or someone to punish. He’d taken the name given to him for his deeds in the place of his birth and fashioned it into a mask. Armour. That title became his identity. It still was, but in a different way.

The name Tiger felt like a comfortable old coat these days, worn in all the right places. The original occasion for which he’d first donned it had ceased to matter many wears ago. It was his, and that was enough. Somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a barrier and started being him.

In fact, it felt less like an old coat and more like his own skin. He owed some of that to Checkmate, but most of it had changed because he had changed.

In many respects, Spyral was equally as responsible… if not more so.

His feelings were beginning to make more sense. Checkmate felt like a step backwards. The Tiger who’d joined Checkmate was not the same Tiger who was set to return.

Given the emotional state he’d been in when he’d volunteered to infiltrate Spyral, that was an improvement. It felt strange calling post-traumatic stress an improvement.

Well, in reality, it wasn’t his trauma that had changed him. That had simply come along for the ride, as Dick might say.

Tiger had grown up quickly, but only now was he finding true maturity. He’d felt so worldly when he’d joined Checkmate. Perhaps that was youth. Perhaps it was fighting the Taliban from a young age. Perhaps both.

In truth, he’d known very little. In many respects, he felt he knew less now.

“Hey,” Dick poked his head out the door. “You’ve been gone a while. Everything okay?”

Tiger nodded. “I was thinking.”

Dick joined him at the wall. “Oh?”

“Do you find that as you grow older, you know less?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“Do you think it is normal?”

“Yeah, I do.” Dick leaned his head on Tiger’s shoulder. Tiger held very still so he wouldn’t move. “We’re getting wise in our old age, T.”

Tiger couldn’t hold back a laugh; he found it harder to control these days, especially when Dick knew how to get under his skin. “Yes, you do look very old.”

“Yeah, and you’re about to collapse into dust yourself.”

“Well, my joints make noises they never used to make. Perhaps that time is almost upon me.”

“Or you could just stop getting your ass kicked every few weeks. I’ve heard good health keeps you young.”

“I would not know.”

Dick laughed, sliding his hand into Tiger’s. “Anyway. What brought this on?”

“I was thinking about Checkmate. I was barely eighteen when they recruited me in Afghanistan.”

“And I bet you thought you knew everything.”

“To be fair, I had repelled my fair share of Taliban attacks.”

“Okay, that’s pretty impressive. Some cockiness is to be expected.”

“I may also have wrestled a tiger.”

“Shit. Really?”

“You will never know if I’m telling the truth.”

“You bastard,” Dick murmured.

“I volunteered for the Spyral mission,” Tiger said. He hadn’t set out to share that information, but maybe he’d needed to say it. He’d had few opportunities to talk about it with anyone.

Dick looked up at him; there was some kind of tension behind his eyes that made Tiger suspect he would have another migraine soon. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Not much of one. I was well-respected in Checkmate, but I wanted to get away.”

“So you volunteered for a deep cover mission. Naturally. Why did you want to get away?”

That wasn’t something Tiger liked to think about. He already regretted opening his mouth. He wondered if his reason was still with Checkmate, or whether things had changed there as well.

Dick took the hint. “Ah, well. Story for another time? I’m a great listener.”

“I know.”

***

The worst of the migraine had passed, but Dick still winced whenever he saw too much light. Or heard anything louder than a whisper. Tiger was elsewhere; Dick didn’t like anyone seeing him like this, even if he could tolerate another person’s presence when the pain was at its worst.

He sat on the bed in the dark, slowly sipping a glass of water. Tension still bunched in his muscles; he’d learned from experience that it wouldn’t go away properly until he found the strength to move around and stretch. For now, though, he’d just have to deal.

His phone vibrated, which set his teeth on edge. Tim had messed with the settings so the backlight didn’t hurt as much when he looked at the screen, but he still had to do it quickly. It was Kory.

She didn’t call very often. He picked up right away and put the phone on speaker so he could keep it away from his aching head.

“Hello?”

“Dick?”

“The one and only.”

Kory let out a breath. “Oh, X’Hal. It’s true. You’re back.”

“Back and better than ever,” Dick said dryly; he wasn’t sure she’d pick up on the sarcasm, but he guessed it didn’t really matter. “Jason run his mouth?”

“Who else?”

“Good point.”

“You sound tired. Are you okay?”

“It’s been a long few months. I’ll be fine.” A phone conversation wasn’t the ideal platform to hash out what exactly had been going on and why he sounded half-dead. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well.”

“Seen Roy lately?”

Starfire chuckled. “Yes. He just left.”

“Tell him I say hi next time you see him… which I’m sure will be soon.”

“Dick…”

“I’m not mad, Kory. We’ve both moved on. Go forth, be merry.”

“You say the strangest things.”

“You talk to Jason on the regular. I think your opinion of strange is a bit skewed.”

“You’re probably right.” Kory hummed softly. “Jason says you’re living with your family again.”

“Yeah, some stuff went down on the tail end of my mission. Needed to find my feet.”

“Yes, your mission.” Kory’s voice hardened. “The mission where you faked your death.”

Dick sighed; he should’ve expected this. “I’m sorry I put you through that. Just because I needed to be dead in the eyes of the public didn’t mean I needed to be dead to the people I care about.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised that.” She still sounded pissed. That was valid.

“You ever find yourself in Gotham?” Dick asked. “We should talk properly. Face to face.”

“I might be in the neighbourhood next week. To visit Jason.”

“And if we happen to bump into each other, that’ll be a happy coincidence.”

“Yes.”

“Text me the details. When you have them.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll give the big guy some warning so he doesn’t get mad about metahumans in the city again.”

Kory laughed. “Is he always like that?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll see you later.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Dick set the phone aside and pressed his fingers into his temples. It had been easy enough to block out the pain while talking to Kory, but now it was coming back with a vengeance.

Still, he was glad for the phone call. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Kory. And the last time she’d seen him was at his funeral. Not exactly conducive to conversation.

It would be good to see her. He still loved her, in a way, but the need to have her to himself had long since dissipated. Enough time had passed that he could genuinely be happy for her when she saw other people.

Yeah. Now was a good time to clear the air between them. If things went well, maybe she’d like to meet Tiger.

***

The day to visit Checkmate came before Tiger was prepared for it. Even the morning prayer had done little to soothe his nerves.

It didn’t help that Dick was coming off another migraine. He made it to breakfast with Tiger, but neither of them had much of an appetite. Tiger had told Dick to go back to bed several times, but he refused.

“Good news,” Dick said quietly, picking at the fruit salad Alfred had made. “We’re carpooling today.”

“This is the first I am hearing of it.”

“Only got confirmed last night,” Dick said. “I’m seeing a specialist in Gotham, so Alfred’s driving both of us into the city. We’ll drop you off first.”

“Are you sure you are up to this?”

“The sunglasses aren’t just for decoration.” Dick patted his shirt pocket. “I’ll manage.”

Tiger had to admit having Dick close for the journey made him feel better. He stopped protesting.

“Does this specialist know what they are doing?” Damian said, stabbing a waffle with his usual fervour.

“It’s the same guy who stopped my head exploding on a near-nightly basis,” Tim replied. “He’s legit.”

“Your migraines are a result of inferior genetics, Drake, not a torture machine.”

Tim looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Damian eyed him for a moment longer, until he evidently decided Tim was not going to react the way he wanted him to. Then Dick caught his eye and raised an eyebrow.

Damian scowled. “I apologise, Drake.”

“Sure.” Tim said absent-mindedly, more focused on his coffee.

“Anyway…” Dick finally picked up some pineapple on his fork. “I don’t know if the specialist can help, but I’m willing to give it a shot. At this point, I’ll try anything.”

Dick looked exhausted. Tiger knew for a fact he was, in fact, as tired as he looked. Neither of them had slept well last night. Dick was abstaining from coffee and Tiger did not need caffeine shakes, so there was no respite on the horizon.

Once it was time to leave, they’d both managed to choke down some breakfast. Cassandra had gone ahead to meet Helena; they would remain near the building but would not enter unless absolutely necessary. Tiger did not need an extra set of eyes over his shoulder. He would be under enough scrutiny already.

He was grateful they would be close by if needed, however.

Dick still flinched in the sunlight, but he appeared to shake it off. They sat together in the back of the car while Alfred drove.

“Should you require an earlier pickup than anticipated, sir,” said Alfred, “call me and I will come. Should you lose access to your phone, I use the family’s communication frequency. Master Dick, if you would…?”

“Sure.” Dick held out his palm. Tiger dropped the communicator in his hand. Dick pressed a few buttons on his watch, frowning. Or perhaps squinting. After a moment, the communicator beeped softly and Dick handed it back.

Tiger put it in his ear. “I may need to surrender my devices.”

Dick made a pulling motion from his watch and a dim holographic display grew from it. He pressed a few holographic keys and then held his wrist close to Tiger.

“Give it a few words.”

“Hello, watch.” Tiger grimaced. “I feel ridiculous.”

The watched beeped and Dick pulled back. “That was enough. Okay, you should be able to program any communicator to patch you into our frequency. You’ll be asked to give voice confirmation. If something really bad happens, which I doubt it will, it’ll also work on all cell phones, Gotham payphones and some kitchen appliances.”

“What?”

“Wayne Enterprises gets everywhere, babe.”

Tiger would never get used to that nickname, but at least it was a pleasant feeling. He still did not feel ready when Alfred parked the car near the nondescript office building that housed Checkmate’s Gotham outpost.

Dick kissed his cheek. “You’ll be okay. We won’t be far. And Cass and Helena will be on hand if something weird happens. Which it probably won’t.”

“Yes, very comforting.”

“Oh, hush.” Dick squeezed both his hands. “You just did them a massive favour. As far as I’m concerned, the least they can do is listen to you about Bannon.”

That name always felt like a lance through his stomach. He nodded silently and slid out of the car.

As they drove off, Dick blew him a kiss out the window. Tiger tried to burn that image into his mind. He could use some encouragement once he was inside.

He approached the glass doors. They slid open for him. He stepped through, heart pounding in his throat.

He paused in the lobby. Breathed. The lobby itself was deliberately dull and sterile. Not the kind of place someone would walk into by accident. Unless they were trying to escape a murderer, Tiger supposed.

The woman at the front desk was a stranger, probably a newer agent who joined after Tiger had gone undercover. She seemed to recognise him anyway and waved him through the next set of doors. Here, things became more interesting.

A security guard passed Tiger a plastic tub. He put his communicator, watch and phone inside. Then he removed his shoes and placed them on the conveyor belt.

“We’ll need to confiscate your electronics,” the guard said. “You’ll get them back when you leave.”

Tiger passed through a body scanner and retrieved his shoes on the other side. He was almost certain Bruce had hidden a tracker on him, but it was clearly disguised enough or of such little consequence that security did not feel the need to search and destroy.

Another receptionist was seated behind another desk, this time close to a pair of grey elevators. “Welcome back, Bishop Five,” he said, stamping a barcode onto the back of Tiger’s hand. “You’re needed on level ten. Have a nice day.”

Tiger stepped into the elevator and tapped the back of his hand against the card reader. Level ten selected itself and the doors sealed him in the elevator.

Tiger fell into parade rest. He shut his eyes and took deep, slow breaths. He had never been to the Gotham City branch of Checkmate before, so it was unlikely he would run into many people who knew him. Maxwell Lord was probably here, and perhaps Amanda Waller, but anyone else? No.

The doors let out a ding and slid open. Tiger stepped out, feeling calmer. He had no reason to feel anxious. He had done his job. All he needed to do was report in and give his recommendations.

And possibly attend an evaluation, which he would likely fail. Then again, it was more likely they would schedule it for another day. If all went to plan, he would not be here for long.

Tiger started down the hallway. The barcode on his wrist would automatically open the correct door once he reached it, and this place was linear. He could do this. Everything would be fine. He had nothing to—

A door up ahead slid open. An agent stepped into the hallway. They locked eyes, and recognition sparked between them.

“Eimal,” Tiger breathed.

“Tiger.” Eimal’s face broke into an uneasy smile. The man was handsome as ever… his dark, intelligent eyes; his nose slightly crooked from being broken one too many times; his thick, black hair…

This was exactly who Tiger had not wanted to see.

Eimal’s smile relaxed, just a small amount. “It’s good to see you.”

Tiger couldn’t answer. He suddenly felt much younger, in the throes of heartbreak once again. That was a dangerous feeling. He made rash decisions when he felt like this. He had to breathe. Had to control it. This feeling was nothing more than the ghost of a relationship long since dead.

He swallowed. “I did not expect to see you here.”

“Lord thought you might like to see a friendly face.” Eimal’s smile turned pained. “I had hoped enough time had passed that…”

Tiger did not know how to respond. He often felt clumsy and slow around Eimal. The man was a few years older and, he’d once believed, much wiser. He had joined Checkmate before Tiger and had been among the first to welcome him. Meeting another Pashtun had helped keep the homesickness at bay for them both.

“The past is the past,” Tiger finally said, hoping he sounded firm. He did not feel firm. He felt like the ground would soon crumble beneath him.

A flash of hurt appeared in Eimal’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Tiger might have imagined it. “Well, it was good to see you. Don’t keep Lord waiting.” He gestured to the door at the end of the hall.