Work Text:
If I could paint the sky
Well all the stars would shine a bloody red
- Black Out Days, Phantogram
It was one of those days again. One of those days where Jason couldn’t help but snap at everybody in his vicinity. A green tint edged his vision, a constant, painful reminder of everything that had happened in the past few years—things he’d rather erase from his mind.
As he stalked past the kitchen, he heard someone rummaging. Probably Alfred cleaning up, he shrugged to himself, before descending into the Batcave. B was out with Replacement, patrolling the city, and Dickwing was stuck at the Tower for one more night. Seeing the Batcave always made Jason regret agreeing to at least try living in the Manor again. His hatred for the display of the suit he died in was well known among the others. Jason had made sure of that by smashing the glass to pieces time and time again. They deserved it, he reasoned with himself when confronted with Bruce’s sad eyes.
Today, Jason decided he would, for once, not let out his anger by destroying the display. Instead, he would go and hack some of Replacement’s files and other shit he kept on the Batcomputer. Sitting down in the chair, Jason cracked his fingers and got to work. He had to give Timmy credit; everything was secured tightly. Too bad that Jason knew all of the boy’s tricks already.
The clacking of keys rang throughout the cave as he bypassed all of the safety measures. There wasn’t much of interest to find, honestly. Most of the files were ones that Jason had already read at some point.
Sighing, he was about to log out when his eyes caught a folder titled “Footage NW & JKR” sneakily nestled away in one of Replacement’s personal folders. Obviously, this was some kind of footage B had wanted deleted. Jason’s curiosity peaked. What would B want erased so badly that Tim rebelled and made a backup?
Safe to say, Jason immediately opened the folder to find security footage in it. Interesting. He really hoped this was worth it as he started the video. It was pretty good quality with audio, showing an abandoned warehouse somewhere in Gotham.
Dick was having a horrible day. It honestly couldn’t have been worse. He was following one of the Joker’s trails alone, as B and Robin were dealing with Poison Ivy’s shenanigans. To be safe, he hadn’t told anybody about what he was doing. Dick didn’t need a PhD to know that Bruce would stop him from going after that mad murderous clown alone. He didn’t care, though. Glancing up at the sky, Dick knew that he needed to do this. He had to confront this bastard, if only to get a semblance of revenge for his brother.
Jason. Jason had been too young. Jason hadn't been supposed to die. Jason should’ve lived. Jason, his Little Wing, shouldn’t have fucking died.
Even after a few months had passed since the boy’s funeral, Dick couldn’t get rid of the emptiness in his chest. This feeling of being incomplete. This feeling of being a failure for not being there for his little brother. His brother who had been beaten to a bloody pulp with a crowbar while a maniac laughed at his cries of pain.
Dick came to a halt on a rooftop overlooking an old and abandoned warehouse at the edge of Gotham. This was where the Joker was.
A shiver ran down his spine. It looked so much like a trap that it couldn’t be anything but a trap. Yet Dick knew that he had to go in, no matter what. The rage and grief inside of him had reached a boiling point. Today, Dick would make the Joker pay.
Entering through a broken window, he made sure not to make a noise. The warehouse was mostly empty. There were some papers strewn around and a few broken chairs and desks. On the wall furthest away from Dick hung an abnormal amount of pictures. From his position, Dick was unable to make out what they showed.
After looking around to check if the Joker was around, which he surprisingly wasn’t, Dick inched toward the wall. His heart raced as he saw the pictures up close. No. No, no, no.
With wide eyes and clammy hands, Dick staggered back. He was on the brink of hyperventilating. This couldn’t be. The pictures were of Jason. Jason as he was being brutally tortured by the Joker. These fucking pictures even had little notes beneath them where the Joker elaborated on the fun his little brother had with his “Uncle J.”
Dick wanted to throw up. He wanted to tear those goddamn photos off that wall and burn them. Most of all, he wanted to hurt the Joker really badly. His body was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Only his eyes moved from picture to picture, each worse than the last.
Seeing how Jason’s face got progressively more mutilated had Dick’s hands ball into tight fists. The light in his little brother’s eyes dimmed more and more in every photograph.
“Enjoying my little exhibition, are we, Nightwing?” A manic laugh had Dick turn around in a flash. The Joker emerged from behind a pillar, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.
Dick narrowed his eyes. His hands immediately reached for his escrima sticks. The Joker seemingly ignored Dick’s hostile stance as he circled around him toward the picture wall.
“These are truly masterpieces. A great way to commemorate the amazing time Jason and I had.”
“Get that name out of your mouth, clown,” Dick bit out angrily.
The amount of restraint Dick had to show was enormous. Every vein in his body burned with anger. Every goddamn cell in his body egged him on to shut the Joker up. To end him. Just like he had ended his Little Wing.
“You aren’t very chatty, are you?” The Joker cackled in glee. “No worries, I can deliver the punchline for the both of us, Dickie.”
Dick’s body immediately went rigid at the mention of his name. His civilian name. The name nobody was supposed to know except for his family.
The Joker seemingly didn’t notice, or he just didn’t care as he talked on with that wretched smile on his face. “Jason was so stubborn at first. Wouldn’t tell his Uncle J anything.” He sneered the last word with an eye roll. “I did get his tongue a little looser after a bit, though. Poor soul started to plead for Batman to save him. For his big brother Dickie to get him away from my wonderful company.”
A chill crept up Dick’s spine. His throat closed up, and he felt his eyes get wet. Jason had called for him. Jason had screamed his name, hoping that Dick would come and save him. But Dick never came. And Bruce came too late.
“He was unhappy being with me at first, but after a while he and I really had fun. Just look at the pictures! I was thinking, maybe I could do this again with the new Robin. Don’t you think that would just be a blast?”
Suddenly it was as if Dick was released from his invisible bonds. Without pausing for a second, he rushed forward and punched the Joker square in the face. Staggering back, the Joker looked at his attacker with a gleeful look, blood running from his nose.
“What? You don’t like that idea?”
“Shut up,” Dick snapped.
“So rude,” the clown tutted.
“I said shut up!” Kneeing the Joker in the stomach, Dick watched as the monster crumpled down.
“Is that all you have, Nightwing?” Joker said in a fit of laughter.
Don’t kill. Don’t hurt. Be good. Be better.
Dick could practically hear Batman whispering in his ear. Urging him not to stoop this low. Telling him not to participate in the clown’s insane game. Yet Dick couldn’t bring himself to care. His brother was dead. Killed by this madman who just now threatened to hurt Tim.
His last string of restraint snapped. The clown was going to pay. Dick would make him suffer for ever touching his Little Wing.
With a determined face, Dick swung his fist at the Joker’s face once more. A satisfying crack echoed through the warehouse as his punch broke the madman’s nose. Blood trickled down as the Joker looked at Dick with wide eyes and a big smile.
“Oh, that crack sounded almost as nice as Robin’s when I broke his nose,” he cackled.
Dick’s eyes narrowed before hauling the Joker up by his collar and slamming him into the wall.
“I fucking told you to keep his name out of your mouth, now didn’t I?”
Joker reached up with his right hand toward Dick’s mouth only to push up the corners to resemble a smile.
“You bats take everything so seriously. Smile a little, Dickie.” He laughed uncontrollably. “Big bad Batsy would be so disappointed to see his precious Nightwing beat poor little me up.”
“You know nothing about Batman,” Dick grit out, throwing the Joker onto the floor behind him before stalking over. “I will make you feel so much pain that you will forget how to laugh.”
Jason’s laughter rang out in Dick’s head. His blinding smile and twinkling eyes were at the forefront of his mind. He would never hear his laughter again. Never see his joyous expression ever again. Never hug him again. Dick would never hug his little brother again because he was fucking dead.
Consumed by blind rage, Dick swung his fist down onto the clown’s face over and over again. He blocked out any sounds the madman made. The only thing he could hear was his Little Wing screaming his name for help. Help that never came.
Dick didn’t know how long he had been there, kneeling over the Joker and repeatedly punching him in the face. He hadn’t noticed the gradual silence from the man beneath him; he just kept swinging.
“Nightwing?”
“Nightwing?!”
“NIGHTWING!”
Suddenly, Dick was yanked off the Joker and roughly shoved aside. His vision cleared as he recognized Tim in his Robin uniform, crouched beside him, probably checking for nonexistent wounds.
“Are you okay, N?” Tim asked quietly, his face filled with concern.
Why would Tim be concerned? Nothing had really happened. That’s when Dick saw the scene in front of him. Batman was kneeling over the Joker—or rather, the Joker’s bloody and bruised body.
Dick saw B checking for a pulse. Now that he thought about it, the clown had been awfully quiet.
“Dead.” B looked at Dick with a cold expression.
He did it, Dick thought. He succeeded. Jason was avenged. The Joker was dead.
“Robin, get over here,” Batman snapped gruffly. “Call the emergency services and tell them to prepare for resuscitation.”
Dick’s blood turned to ice. No. Bruce couldn’t possibly be serious.
“What the fuck do you mean by resuscitation, Bruce?” Dick snarled, finally finding his voice again.
Tim hesitated but stood up and seemingly did what B asked him to do.
“Code names, Nightwing.” Batman’s tone was the coldest Dick had ever heard. He turned back to the Joker and started chest compressions.
Dick leaped up and shoved B off the Joker.
“Like hell you’re going to revive that monster! You can’t be serious.” He growled furiously.
“I will, and I am. Step back, Nightwing.”
As B resumed his work, tears rolled down Dick’s cheeks. He felt utterly betrayed. How could Bruce do this after everything that had happened?
“I will never forgive you for this,” he sneered before turning and swinging out of the warehouse through one of the broken windows.
Jason sat in front of the Batcomputer, stunned by what he had just seen. The screen turned black, and the silence was suddenly deafening. Dick had killed the Joker. For him. Someone had cared.
“Dick wouldn’t speak to B for three months after that,” a calm voice spoke from behind him.
Turning around, Jason saw Replacement leaning against one of the displays, arms crossed. He was still in full gear, a nasty gash on his forehead.
“What are you doing here, Timbo? Thought you were out.”
Tim walked over to the computer and logged out with a few clicks before turning to Jason.
“Got cut by some killer plant, so B sent me home to patch myself up.” He shrugged, gesturing at the gash. Tim paused for a moment. “You know, I didn’t call the emergency services at first. Bruce got really pissed about that and took Robin away for a few weeks.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose in surprise. So Tim wasn’t as much of a rule-follower as he appeared to be.
“The Joker was dead. Why bring him back?” He shrugged at Jason. “The bastard had taken Robin away from this world. My Robin.”
“So why did B resuscitate the clown then?” Jason leaned back in the chair and looked up at Tim.
“He didn’t want Dick to get his hands dirty.”
“Ah yes, Boy Wonder’s hands cannot be tainted,” Jason snarked sarcastically.
Tim peeled off his mask and turned around before speaking again. “After hearing that, Dick punched Bruce and shouted obscenities at him. I would’ve done the same.”
Jason sighed. He was pissed that Batman just had to save his murderer, but his appreciation for Dick had increased tenfold. And for Replacement, he added belatedly.
“Thanks for keeping the footage.”
“No problem, Robin. You would’ve done the same.”
Pushing himself out of the chair with a sigh, Jason slung an arm around Tim and walked him up the stairs.
“Let’s get you patched up.”
Fuck Tim for growing on him.
The next day, Tim and Dick both found boxes filled with cookies with a small thank-you note on them.
Thank you for your efforts. Count me avenged. —J