#killcrime

❝ cassandra, next question. ❞

words trail off as their younger brother walks away laughing, leaving dick and @killcrime locked in one of the rooms of the manor, coincidentally without many means of escape. or perhaps it wasn't a coincidence at all, given how they were locked in there because all they did was avoid talking to each other about anything that actually mattered. the tension between jason and bruce was the most obvious of their strained dynamics, but it appears that the strain between the two oldest brothers was more apparent than dick thought. it pulls a sigh from him, knowing that the intention was finally to get them to talk. was dick ready for all of that ? he had kept his grief hidden so long, growing so deep and unchecked, that he didn't even know where to begin. if he began at all, the thought of breaking down his walls to one of the people that mattered most in his life making his hands shake.

❝ seems we're stuck here until someone decides to let us out. ❞ he finally says after a long moment, eyes falling to the floor instead of looking at jason. he should probably bring up his theory as to why they're stuck in here, but knowing jason, he was already beginning to put the pieces of the puzzle together himself. so, like a coward, dick stays quiet, hoping jason would break the ice instead.

FOREWORD INCOMING !!    accepting !!   idr  from   @killcrime

the safehouse bathroom is small and poorly lit, a single bulb buzzing faintly above the mirror. the air smells like metal and cheap soap. somewhere in the next room, a floorboard creaks as the building settles.

ahmya stands by the sink, hands held slightly away from her body. blood streaks across her fingers, dark and drying in the lines of her skin. it gathers at her knuckles, under her nails. none of it is hers.

she watches the sink instead of him.

jason says nothing. he steps close, steady and unhurried, sleeves already shoved up to his forearms. he turns on the tap, water rushing out clear and cold. he adjusts it once, twice, until the temperature is right.

then he reaches for her wrist.

his grip is firm but careful. he guides her hands under the stream, letting the water run red for a moment before it spirals down the drain. the color swirls, thins, disappears.

he picks up a cloth from the edge of the sink and begins to wipe between her fingers. methodical and precise. he does not rush. he does not hesitate either. his thumb presses lightly at her palm, checking for cuts. there are none.

the blood comes away in layers. diluted and gone.

ahmya remains still through it, shoulders squared, expression unreadable. her breathing is even. only her eyes move, lowering to watch the way his hands work.

he cleans beneath her nails next, careful not to scrape skin. the cloth turns pink, then pale.

the room stays quiet except for the water and the faint drag of fabric against skin.

when he finishes one hand, he switches to the other without comment. steady. clean and deliberate.

the last of the red disappears down the drain.

he turns off the tap and silence returns.

a piece of mail has been delivered, "timothy jackson drake!" jason's voice reverberates against the manors walls. the intention is to scare him of course, because really who does he think he is ambushing him like this?! "hiding like a lil coward huh... that's fair. i'm sure your collection of all these lovely and shiny gadgets you keep around wouldn't mind if i took a look at them right, took some for myself riight" there's this need to put him in a headlock that he needs to get over before it's too late. / involves u as the thread is wrapping up smile COME HERE TIMMY HE WONT BITE. NOT HARD AT LEAST.

they had been acting like children, both @killcrime and @lumined, dancing around words that desperately needed attention. the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife, and it couldn't be dull. no, no, no. honestly, it had been ticking him off, giving dick an incredulous look when the topic went avoided or given a mountain of excuses and jason straight up pretending tim just didn't exist when the question was brought up. seriously? guilt, grief, regret can only be a part of the equation for so long before it's used as an excuse, something he knew all too well himself. this didn't involve him, and he'd be a fool to butt himself into problems where it didn't require his input or opinion, unfortunately he was the top fool and unable to mind his own damn business; things had always gone so well when he tried to fix things. surely this couldn't go wrong... right? a plan was to be set in motion: the gear, the schedule of both dick and jason going to and from patrol (something he'd have to keep a super close eye on), and the bait to take at least one of them, if not then both. that would be the ideal situation for both parties. maybe his death would be the final piece, and he's fully expecting it.

the equipment he can get easily, that had been the easier part, but when it came jason and dick well... that was something a little more complicated. dick always liked to go first before meeting up with his teammates later, and jason liked to take his leisure time out to the streets. whilst the opposite happens, dick comes in later and jason is the first one back, unless he's with dick himself. except, that never happens, and honestly it seems like jason would rather cut off his own arm than be alone with dick for more than two seconds. even then, that might be gracious to give him those two seconds. let's not forget that jason doesn't always come back to the manor, and it's usually when he just feels like it. that's a little harder to predict, but he has an idea to prevent that from happening: a planned patrol with jason whilst pretending to be hurt so he takes him back to the manor (augh! my leg, they got me. yes, i am an idiot. i need you take me back, i can't walk on it. oh no, red hood, help me please.) couldn't do it earlier so he goes back out but can't do it too late. there's a prime time to aim for and it's something that so happens is dick's return. it had been a grand idea, of course there were some kinks to straighten out, like unpredictability upon the streets of gotham, if bruce calls them back to the batcave, if one of them actually got hurt, among several other things.

don't you dare lie to me.

❝ jason i'm not— i would never lie to you. ❞

a deep set frown pulls at his lips, hurt obvious even if his eyes were hidden behind his mask. he couldn't really blame @killcrime for not believing him, for thinking that dick too had abandoned him, but it didn't make the accusation hurt any less. that being said, now that he knew that jason was in fact alive, dick would never stop reaching out to him, trying to mend whatever ache he could. perhaps not all the sickening things that just thinking about made him queasy, but certainly whatever fragile bond they still shared.

❝ look, jaybird, i'm still your brother, right ? ❞ he speeds up to walk in front of the arkham knight, stopping his brother in his tracks. if he wanted to leave, dick wouldn't stop him, but he would have to move him. ❝ i swear on my life and on my parents' life, i have never stopped looking for you, trying to find some type of trail. why batman stopped looking after seeing that tape, which i didn't even knew existed till i pried it out of him, i don't know. but if i had known sooner, i would've torn gotham apart brick by brick until i found you. that might mean nothing to you now, but . . . i want to fix this, jason. us, not you, but your trust in me. ❞

there's been many times in the last 20 years where many had tried to impersonate his loved ones and this time it looked no different. but something was off. there's a speed to the way his bullet was dodged that makes him wonder many things but his mind played many tricks on him, it sure looks like this time it's not different. "and what are you pretending to be, even? there's only one person who moved like this." in a brief exchange of blows he doesn't realise that this could indeed be.. no. "there's no way it's you, right?" jason almost doesn't even want to say a name, it just has to be his mind playing tricks on him. / bats bats we're the (old) bats

he knew it was jason the moment he laid eyes on him. not just because of the obvious suit ( though . . . it did look far too much like their fa— batman's suit. had @killcrime led a life like his ? the answer breaks his heart break ), but because dick could count the amount of times someone was able to go blow for blow with him on a single hand. and none of them would use rubber bullets, for one. it was a small miracle that dick didn't collapse to his knees the moment this man, his brother, appeared, fighting only because jason had started it. he'd know jason blind, deaf, with every possible sense gone. when the shots finally cease, and he asks that question, dick finally lets out a shaky sigh. ❝ i've been trying to tell you, jason, ❞ he straightens out of his stance, hands reaching up to finally tug his cowl off.

❝ it's me. ❞ he squares his shoulders, eyes set upon the other man in careful neutrality, but a keen eye couldn't possibly miss the quiet hope behind him, the slight tremor of his hands. ❝ how did you get here ? do you . . . do you know how long you've been dead, for me ? take off that helmet. let me see see you, jaybird. please. ❞

you have to stop sabotaging yourself

you should know better than anyone how hard that is for me, he wants to say, but doesn't. another part of him wants to say it's a little funny @killcrime of all people was telling him, but dick wasn't one to deflect his own faults by pointing out others'. so he just huffs quietly, unable to meet his brother's gaze. he's more than grateful for the fact that they're relationship has been mended and jason's actually talking to him, but a part of him wished his brother wouldn't call him out so easily. he drops his head into his hand, sighing quietly before figuring he should probably say something.

❝ i don't think i know how to stop. ❞ he says softly, the admission making him wince. it's always been the thing he was best at; leaving things unsaid and unspoken until they blew up in his face, taking everyone with him down with him. how could he stop, when self destruction was all he knew ? ❝ i want to stop, i do, i just don't think i can. ❞