joyride.

[batfakes]

This was probably the dumbest idea he's ever had.

The silhouette of the thing is clearly Batman but the person operating it? Clearly not. In short, static-y bursts, Terry can activate the boots but has yet to discover the rhythm that keeps them on and him air born. So there are moments - painful moments - that he comes crashing down to earth.

And he doesn't understand it. He's watched Bruce work on this thing for months. Watched him take the tech through its paces. Watched him activate the thrusters and extend the wings like his suit's always had them. Watched him fly. So it wasn't like Terry didn't know what to do. Why won't it work for him?

Terry lands again, hard against the solid surface of a building's rooftop and he swears, as he lays there trying to catch his breath, that he's broken something. Even though the suit's done its job and absorbed the impact of the fall, Terry's afraid to move in case something detrimental has happened to his bones. And maybe, he figures, it's better to just lay here and let whoever it is the ears are picking up approaching him kill him right then and there.

That'd be less painful than Bruce finding out he swiped the suit.

Comments

[deadbirdarising]

The silhouette was clearly Batman. The new suit that Jason hadn't gotten to see first hand yet, but that Dick had told him enough about to know that it had some fun designs. Like being able to fly? That was pretty awesome. And the stealth tech? He knew Dick was aching his get his hands on that particular feature. He was pretty sure the suit was still a prototype...

But even so, he'd expected to see a little more finesse from it's pilot. Bruce wouldn't risk taking something out of the Cave if it wasn't reliable. And yet...there it was. In spurts and sudden stops and...oh. That was a wall. Jason was pretty sure that even with a full cowl, that had to have hurt.

He opened up his commlink, letting Dick see what he was seeing as he gave in to his curiosity and followed the stranger. And when the figure took another header into a wall, collapsing back like he'd actually knocked himself silly, it wasn't just his footsteps that the suit's sensors picked up.

"Oh, it's the real suit alright. But I don't think B was ever that scrawny..." There was a pause, another few steps closer. He was close enough that the suit could pick up his vitals, no doubt flashing to it's pilot that the Red Hood was approaching. "This is either the world's weirdest fake out or he knocked himself stupid. Jury's still out."

Another step. "Home, home? That seems hasty." There's a soft click and the suit's alarms would flash a warning. "Hey, that suit doesn't have the same protections as yours, right?"

There were more words, but the sensors would probably miss them on account of the taser round that Red Hood puts in the imposter's spine.

[batfakes]

Okay.

Okay.

Okay.

The suit was flashing things before his eyes and it took him a minute to adjust to all of the readings. Vitals were normal. Nothing was broken. Suit integrity: 85%. So not ideal, but not the worst thing in the world. It's another moment before Terry finally made an attempt to roll himself up right. He made it to his knees.

That's when the suit sensors alerted him to someone approaching. Red Hood and what followed was a full profile. His face and typical weapons of choice and when Terry read what it was, he felt a knot twist itself up in his gut. The suit's mostly bulletproof (Terry watched the ballistic tests). But there were vulnerabilities where the suit's joints were and if Red Hood was as good as the readout made him out to be, it wouldn't take him long to figure out.

"Shit," Terry huffed. Another warning. Weapon engaged. Evasive maneuvers recommended.

Terry's unfortunately not fast enough to escape the taser round and it struck true square in the middle of his back. The shock of it is too much and he can't tell if he's screaming. He just knew when it was over because he collapsed into a heap on floor.

[deadbirdarising]

Later, when everything was said and done and he got a chance to look at that suit, Jason would be pleased that his presence caused so many alarms to go off. Not because he liked the fact that he was dangerous--though, that was part of it--, but because Bruce had designed those warnings for himself.

Bruce saw him as a threat.

Good.

In the moment, he waited until the taser round did it's job, the modulated scream coming from the body within the suit muffled by clenched teeth. When the body finally collapsed, he carefully reached forward with the toe of a steel toed boot, giving the suit a solid thump in the ribs before he nodded in satisfaction.

"You're definitely not B. Come on, then....let's see who had the balls to steal the fucking suit." He didn't reach for the cowl, instead securing limp arms with cut resistant zip ties before hauling the entire form up and over one broad shoulder.

Even with his gangly package, he moved quickly through his city. Up over rooftops, hopping over gaps between alley's without pausing. He was a powerhouse and while the man in the suit wasn't small, they weren't Bruce levels of huge, either.

The warehouse was quiet when he got there, but that didn't stop him from kicking open the skylight and jumping down like he owned the place. Mostly because he did, but that was beside the point.

"Honey, I'm home! I brought company!"

[farcry]

Home was a warehouse Jason kept in the business district of the city, one that Dick had taken a liking to purely for the fact that its skylights offered a perfect little slice of sky. They used it sometimes for covert operations, for how generic it looked, with its indistinctive steel structure and unimportant stored things. Though the Gotham lights prevented him from seeing the stars, lounging on a hammock made from the grapples on his escrimas would remind him of the hole in the high top sometimes, the view he’d get during perfect summer nights at Haly’s.

However, lounging was not what Nightwing was doing when Red Hood kicked open the skylight (did they need to get the latch repaired now?) and dropped in with fake-bats on his shoulder. Dick was in the corner where Jason had some tech set up, tethering a screen off his phone where he was busy reviewing data from the cave. Who the hell was this guy, and how could he have gotten through Bruce’s systems without detection? There must be some footage he could dig up that could be used for an ID and they’d have some info before—

He casually looked up when Jason dropped down, snorting at the snark before pushing off the foldable table he had been leaned over. He crossed the space to meet Jason, grabbing a metal chair on the way.

“He’s just out cold, right? That tazing round is no joke,” enough voltage that it knocks the wind out of him even in the Nightwing suit. The chair scraped loudly in the vast space as he set it down in and pointed to it. He was already pulling out a section of Kevlar paracord. It might be an overkill, but he wasn’t going to risk it with the new suit.

“You better not have shocked him stupid. I still need to know how he managed to unlock the controls.”

[batfakes]

There wasn't much to be done about Jason hoisting him up and draping him over his shoulder. Even if he was awake for it, Jason was big and broad like Bruce and Terry had always hated sparring with Bruce. Sure, being a wrestler helped, but Bruce had a counter for nearly every move Terry knew and Jason? He wouldn't have doubted Jason knowing them too.

So he's fine with being dead weight on this guy's shoulder (since he's out cold) and fine being whisked across the city in the minutes it took to get from where he crashed to the warehouse Jason dropped them down into. But while Terry is out, the suit wasn't. It continued to track his vitals, monitor the situation around him, and provide the identity of Dick Grayson as he moved closer. The warnings for him didn't seem nearly as dire as they did for Jason. He was trusted, Terry could have noted, if he were awake for it.

But more than that, the radio cackled to life in the cowl. McGinnis! Bring the suit back now!

Too bad Terry was a little too unconscious to reply.

[deadbirdarising]

The lock on the skylight was fine, thank you very much. His need for a dramatic entrance had long ago stopped including actual damage to his own buildings. He was a dramatic bitch, but he wasn't nearly as destructive as he used to be.

The reason for that mellowing got an eyeroll that could no doubt be felt even through his helmet as he shifted the kid on his shoulder. "He's fine, his vitals are stable. He's just knocked the fuck out. Which is what I was going for, I might add. We don't know who this kid is yet, stop fussing over him." The reprimand was lackluster at best, more fond amusement than anything else. After all, who would Dick Grayson be if he wasn't rescuing strays off the street?

Easing the kid down into the chair, Jason kept a hand on the back of his neck to avoid throwing him around too much. Was he getting softer in his years with Dick? Maybe, but good luck saying that to his face.

While Dick secured the kid to the chair, Jason made his way over to the desk his husband had left, peeling off his helmet so he could steal a few drinks from the boba that had been left behind. It was cold and thus Incorrect, but it was still drinkable enough as long as no one made him admit to it.

"We should throw him in a faraday cage unless we want to give up this location to B. I'm sure that thing is bugged to hell and back."

[farcry]

Dick would never imply that Jason was getting soft ever, even if he dared think it every single day. The knowing smile tugged on the corner of the his mouth as he watched Jason support the kid's neck. He wound rope around lax ankles and wrists, knowing that Jason chooses his furniture to withstand this kind of treatment.

"Yeah, we could. Or I could just..."

He pulled out the multitool from the end of an escrima and tipped Terry's head forward, exposing the little panel at the nape of the cowl. A few pokes later, the panel opened up and Dick gave a little huh as his eyes narrowed.

"He changed a couple things since the last time I was in here, but I should be able to disable the radar right...her--!" A zap made Dick pull his hand back, dropping the tool and hissing under his breath.

"Fuck, okay. You got a Faraday handy in your back pocket or should we throw him into a shipping crate somewhere?" he said, even as he rounded the chair to tap on the console on Terry's forearm. "Or maybe the override code still works. He couldn't have changed everything, could he?"

[batfakes]

For how sore he was going to be after this, Terry was going to appreciate not being manhandled anymore than what was necessary. And honestly? He wouldn't have been too upset with them if they had. Bruce would never have flown his own gear as poorly as Terry had. So pegging the suit as stolen wasn't that much of a leap in logic. Neither was apprehending the (alleged) thief. He was just going to wish Jason hadn't been so accurate with that taser round.

Then, like a light, his brain switched back on. It felt almost surreal, blinking slowly at the sight of his knees because his head was still pitched forward. Maybe it was a dream. He could only hope, since Bruce said he wasn't ready for field work yet. Maybe he hadn't swiped the suit while Bruce left him alone in the Cave for a minute. Maybe he hadn't crashed into a rooftop and ran into Red Hood. Maybe it was all a silly goof and he'd wake up in his bed at the manor. If he wished hard enough maybe...

The sharp ache in his back, however, clarified reality for him perfectly: He did not know where he was. He was tied up. Some guy he did not recognize had panels open, exposing the suit's innards and as far as Terry knew, the suit itself was slagged. Worst of all?

Bruce was going to kill him.

If these guys didn't do it first, anyway. In his ear, he could hear Bruce calling for him, demanding his location. Demanding he return the suit immediately.

He laughed (a mistake), his voice a bit raw. "Love to, boss. But, a little tied up at the moment."

[deadbirdarising]

He took another bored sip of the stolen boba, knowing full well that Dick had gotten the largest size purely because he'd known that Jason was going to steal some.

"And that is why I let the man in the electricity proof suit play with trying to disarm things." He smirked around the oversized straw, leaning back so that he was half perched on the desk while Dick worked. At least until his husband started asking about back up plans. Then he set the drink aside in favor of pushing off the desk to stroll back over to the other two.

"I mean....I do got a shipping container, but you won't like it."

The container in question was tucked under the back overhang of the warehouse. It was a small-ish container, ten foot by seven foot on the outside and painted a neutral beige. Inside was considerably smaller, though it was still tall enough that he could walk without having to stoop. The soundproofing had taken up a good half a foot of the internal dimensions and the tools that where hung on the walls didn't help the feeling of claustrophobia. The chair that was bolted to the middle of the space was equipped with it's own restraints, however? So that was a bonus.

He was saved from having to promise his husband that the torture container hadn't been used in many years by Terry's awakening.

"Oh look who's awak- wait a minute. Boss? Did you say 'boss'?" He stepped closer, leaning down to glare behind his domino at the cowl's lenses before he turned to look at Dick. "Did he say 'boss'?"

[farcry]

"Don't talk to me about that shipping container right now," came Dick's clipped response, a little distant from how focused he was on remembering the override control code. Of course he knew about the shipping container. He has been in this warehouse enough times to have wandered through the entire space of it, even been in the container to check out its intricacies when Jason hadn't been around. He marvelled at every journey he got into his husband's head. There was so much he was still unearthing about Jason, and much of it resulted in the most confusing of mixed emotions. Nothing was ever simple, but it was always worth it. So they would have to talk more about that shipping container later.

Later, when he didn't have just one try left on the override code. His eyes narrowed as he bit his bottom lip and punched in the last combination he could think of. After a brief pause, it resulted in a green light on the panel, and Dick hummed in victory.

However, the victory was short lived when a hoarse laugh came from above him and Dick looked up, brows lifting in surprise. He looked at Jason, back to the cowl, then at Jason again.

"Wish he didn't." Fuck. He stood up and rounded to the back of the cowl again, this time, quickly pulling out the power feed for the coms and GPS easily without a single shock going off.

"No more voices in your head, kid." Not that Dick really knew if it was a kid or not, but old patterns died hard, and he always erred on the side of assuming the worst of Bruce. It'd been a while since he took a cursory deep-dive into Bruce's files, and he hadn't managed to dig up much before Jason arrived with the kid in tow.

"Just you and us now. I pulled the plug on the comms and GPS so he's not gonna find you." Dick stepped around to stand beside Jason and folded his arms across his chest with a small resigned sigh. Come on, Bruce. "Listen, this is real cliché, but there's a reason why everyone starts by saying there's an easy way, and a hard way, and it's really up to you to choose." He dropped the casual tone, voice slipping into a colder demand.

"Start talking."

[batfakes]

In that 'just woke up' haze, Terry cannot stop the rise of panic when he hears shipping container. He's been through the drills. More times than he'd care to think about if he was honest. He's escaped all manner of gauntlets Bruce has set up for him. He knows what to do when he's captured. But he wasn't ready for the field. He wasn't ready for the possibility he'd be chucked into a cage without a second thought. And all of that training seemed to slip right out of his brain. Bruce would be furious with him. Terry knows that. But he's gotta weigh Bruce's anger against the possibility of suffocating in a shipping container.

Dick's reply gave him a little reassurance, but he still tested the restraints and tried his best to remember exactly what Bruce told him to do. But it's hard to think when Bruce is calm in his ear. No more demands for the suit. Just a statement. I'm tracking your location.

And then his comms died, Bruce's voice sputtering into nothing. Finally, he looked up at his captors and he's thankful the cowl was hiding his face. Two solid brick walls and he's still can't flip Bruce over in their sparring matches. Great. Probably still better off than facing Bruce, but this was not ideal in the slightest. He tested the restraints again, eyes focusing beyond them to see how far he'd have to travel to reach the skylight. He wasn't reliable enough with the boots to fly far. But he could give himself a substantial head start. Maybe. If Dick hasn't turned everything off.

"You get that out of the kidnapper's handbook?" He grinned, but he certainly did not feel jovial. They wanted him to talk. Of course they did. So he'd just say the first thing that came to mind.

"How about those Gotham Gators, Am I right?"

[deadbirdarising]

He reached out to stop Dick from pulling the comms out of the suit, but he wasn't fast enough. The chip came out without a fuss...unless you counted the slight hiss of disconnecting wires. Which, honestly, was probably fuss enough. He sighed, straightening back up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"You know that now he thinks he's got another Ethiopia on his hands, right?" He didn't sound that upset about it, though. Like Bruce had taught them both, he'd taken the few bits of clues that they had and had come to a logical conclusion. Well...a conclusion that seemed logical. For Bruce. After all, who else would be able to not only get into the Cave, but then into the case with a new suit? Who'd be able to bypass the security systems of said suit enough to put it on?

Who'd be fucking stupid enough to steal from Batman other than a Robin?

Jason sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"You better not be who I think you might be, because if you are and you call him 'boss', I'm going to be pissed." Another sigh, and this time he turned towards his husband's stern form with an open frown on his lips. "'Wing, do your thing. If he's dumb enough to pick the hard way, holler. I'm gunna go break into B's security system. If he's who I think he is, I'm punching the old man."

He turned, mutter in Spanish under his breath as he made his way back over to the computer system. This time he actually sat down, his fingers light and fast on the keyboard.

[farcry]

Of course Jason would react this way. He watched his brother withdraw into himself, cloaking hurt in annoyance and frustration as they were both forced to confront the very real possibility of a worst-case scenario. Yet Jason would think first and foremost about Ethiopia yet still consider how Bruce would feel when the tracker went offline. The push-and-pull between the two men he loved the most constantly twisted up inside him. He glanced at his husband's retreating form, took in that displeased expression, and gave a small sigh of his own.

"Take it easy. We can go talk to him together." There would be no punching under his watch. Turning back to Terry, he tipped his head and leaned in closer, keeping enough distance so he could pull away if he tried anything clever like a head-butt.

"You're a funny one, aren't you," he said flatly with an unamused tug on his mouth. Even the annoying quip served as further evidence of their leading theory. It would've truly gotten a laugh out of him, but this wasn't easy for him to deal with either. "

"How long has he been training you? Why'd he pick you up? Just answer the questions and we'll think about letting you keep the cowl on." Too bad that the kid's identity would probably be the first piece of information Jason could dig up.

[batfakes]

Terry eyes dart between the two men, sensing the discord though the context is lost on him. He knew Bruce had partners before him, though not because Bruce had wanted him to know it. He had to go snooping to find anything out about them. And for a brief moment, he's almost relieved. Because with that train of thought came a realization. He'd seen them before. Bruce had files on them both, pictures and details outlined for each of them. Former Robins that Bruce still kept tabs on, though Terry supposed that information was out of date now. There was never a mention of this warehouse that he could recall.

Problem was, he was not going to answer their questions. He watched Jason return to the computer before he slipped his attention back on Dick.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dick wasn't close enough to headbutt, so Terry slouched instead. As much as the restraints would let him. From the look of it, he was choosing the hard way. He could take it. Probably.

[deadbirdarising]

Terry would be fine with Dick. With the hard way? He didn't stand a fucking chance. Fortunately for Terry, Dick wouldn't actually let Jason be as hard as he could be. As he used to be. Not all of it was Dick, either. He'd mellowed a little with age and a steady home life. Otherwise, the teenager might have come precariously close to feeling his shoulder ripped apart by a point blank hollow point round.

Can't be a Robin if his wings were clipped.

Under his digital assault, the cameras finally surrendered and an image flickered up on his screen. Jason watched for a moment, shoulders tight with anger....and then he was typing more. Eventually, he pushed back from the computer and bared his teeth as he stalked back over to the other two.

"Terry McGinnis. Seventeen. At least he's picking them older now." His voice was tight with emotion, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as he reached out to first loosen the back of the cowl, then pull it off by the ridiculous ears.

"What, he's still building the Robin suit, so you decided to steal the Batsuit, instead? You've been training for...what? A month? Jesus fucking Christ, kid. Do you have any idea how lucky you are that I was the one who found you?" He turned, giving the cowl a little shake in Dick's direction. "He's doing it again. Your colors and everything. After me, after Timmy...."

He wheeled around and threw the cowl, letting out a pained, rage filled yell as he did so. There was no flash of green, no wild look in his eyes, but even now the Pit could still close it's acid grip on the burned hollow space where his emotional control was supposed to be and rear it's ugly head.

[farcry]

"You wanna play dumb?" Truth was, Dick hadn't decided what the hard way was. He already knew there was no way he'd do anything to hurt this kid. Jason knew it, too. However, a little rough handling wasn't going to hurt anyone. That suit slumps in the chair and Dick bends forward, tucked a gloved hand beneath the chin of the cowl and wedged upward, until Terry had to strain.

"I can rewire this entire suit to electrocute you all over again. Was that bullet from hood not enough?"

Before he had a chance to get any further, Jason rattled off the statistics he found in Bruce's files and Dick felt his stomach drop. Dark eyes lifted warily to his husband, knowing that the pain twisting in his chest must be brewing in his husband as well. He let Terry go with a clench of teeth, let Jason tug off that cowl, let the matching emotion bleed into his eyes as he looked at Terry's face.

Dark hair, blue eyes.

"This is so fucked." He said it quietly under his breath as he turned his head to look at Jason when the cowl heaved across the room and clattered loudly to the ground. The sound Jason made tore a gash in his heart.

"Hey... Jay." It was a sore, quiet syllable mean to calm, and as much as he wanted to run over to Jason and gather him in his arms, he couldn't. Not yet. He turned back to Terry, bent enough so they were eye-to-eye.

"Terry, listen to me." There was the raw edge of pain in his voice, an emotion he tried to tuck away as he levelled. The kindness was clear in his voice, as was the quiet strength. This is how he spoke to kids.

"We actually just wanna talk, okay? Batman means...a lot to us. We wanna know what's going on." A hand goes to his chest, fingerstripes and all spreading across the blue emblem. "I'm Dick Grayson. The first Robin. That's Jason. My--adopted brother. Husband." Telling anyone that meant a lot. He didn't know what Terry would think of that, but he would always go out on a limb for anyone in the family, and Terry was family now.

"You're safe with us, okay? Bruce isn't gonna get to you here. I'm gonna get you outta this chair, but just keep in mind that if you run, we will chase you down. Even if we don't want to. Understood?"

[batfakes]

Of course he was going to play dumb. He knew they knew the secret; he'd seen their faces in the profiles Bruce kept. But there was hostility, even if the context was missing, Terry would have to not be paying attention to not sense it. He grunted softly as Dick's hand wedged his chin up. It started as an ache in his neck, but turned sharp and uncomfortable when the strain irritated the tender spot on his back where he'd been shot. "Then do it. I'm not telling you anything." Said through gritted teeth. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd protect Bruce. That's what Robins do.

And it wasn't like he had to. Jason knew where to look for him. Knew how to look for him and when Terry heard his name, he felt his stomach drop. He glared when his face was revealed. They knew his name already. Of course they'd want a face to go with it. But he's defiant. Whatever their problem was with Bruce? It had nothing to do with him. He wasn't Dick or Jason or Tim. And he wasn't trying to be. He was just a kid trying to make a difference in Gotham. Bruce had been the one to give him the chance.

No way in hell he'd ever betray that.

The change in Dick's tone caught him off guard though. He figured Dick would be mad, like Jason had been when he chucked the cowl across the room. He figured he'd have to tell them to go fuck themselves because they'd ask him to do something dumb in exchange for his freedom. But it didn't come. It never came. He was safe.

"I know who you are." Terry's hands curled into fists against the restraints. Maybe under better circumstances he would have said it was good to meet them. But all things considered, it hadn't been so far.

"There's trackers in this suit. Batman will find me."

And then they would be sorry. So would he, in hindsight. But not as sorry as these guys.

[deadbirdarising]

He was quiet while Dick tended to the barely adult in the chair, his back turned to both of them as he fought to regain control of his breathing. His chest hurt, but it wasn't a physical pain and that made it so much harder to deal with. The anger ran easy and fast through his body, but the pain of betrayal? That hurt worse than anything else.

He listened while Dick told the kid who they were, his hackles still a little up at having his anonymity thrown away so easily, but he understood. This kid-Terry. He wasn't an enemy. He wasn't going to twist things around to use the information to stab them in the back. He could see that much from the kid's files. He let the sound of his husband's voice ease some of the tension from his shoulders...

...until the kid fucked up.

'There's trackers in this suit. Batman will find me.'

All that tension came back all at once and Jason spun around with his teeth bared like the animal he used to be as he ate the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed the kid by the jaw, forcing him to look up and see the seriousness etched on his face, his fingers digging in just a little too much.

"No. He won't. Not always." He let go, not because he wanted to, but because he needed to before he lost himself entirely. Instead, he took a breath that gave away just how much he was shaking before he reached out to snag Nightwing's arm in his hand.

"Let's go. He's already on his way and if I see him right now, I will punch him so hard his first born will feel it." And since he was currently married to that first born... He managed the ghost of a smirk before he ran his fingers through his hair and leaned forward to rest his head against an armored shoulder. "Give him a burner. When he's sick of B's bullshit, he can call us. Until then, I'm not fighting baby's first hero worship."

[farcry]

Terry thought they’d be sorry for whatever consequences Bruce would try to cast on them, but the truth was, Dick was only sorry for the fallout. Terry said the one thing he shouldn’t have and his heart clenched, watching the way Jason’s hand flew out, fast and sharp, to clamp around the kid’s jaw.

“Jason,” Dick said, quiet but firm, voice taut with urgency. Jason let go but the air charged with animosity. Dick sighed. He didn’t want to leave Terry. He wanted to take him with them—to shield him from the worst of Bruce’s anger, to explain, to fight for him, but Terry wasn’t asking for protection. He was sitting there like every stubborn Robin before him, heart braced for the fallout, spine set like steel.

Dragging him out by force would only harden him more. There was no world where that ended with understanding, no world where that would make Terry feel safe or seen.

“Okay,” he breathed, soft with resignation as he rubbed slow and calming on Jason’s back. They’d have to go. That’s how it had to be.

Still, it hurt. All of it. Even after everything, some part of him still wished Bruce would listen. Still hoped for a conversation or another way, or something, but Terry’s very existence here proved that was long gone. He shouldn’t let himself hope for better where Bruce was concerned, so he drove that ember deep and smothered it out.

His eyes drifted up to Terry’s face, still visible over Jason’s shoulder as he pulled out his own burner and wiped it clean. Bruce didn’t need more reasons to come after them. With a kiss to Jason's temple, Dick stepped over to Terry and gently tucked the burner into his belt.

“Terry,” he said, low and warm, “text me later, okay? Just let me know he found you.”

He hesitated. There should be something more he could say—advice, a warning, farewell, but nothing landed. That look on Terry’s face, all fire and resolve, reminded him of so, so much, so he did the only thing he could think to do. His hands came up to cradle Terry’s face, thumbs brushing over cheekbones, and he leaned in to press a kiss to the kid’s forehead. Gentle. Steady.
Brotherly.

He lingered there for half a second longer than he meant to then stepped back, quietly, before turning to help Jason pull together the last of what needed removing from this place. Once Bruce got here, there would be no coming back.

[batfakes]

Sometimes - only sometimes - Terry thought he talked too much. Not when he's standing up for someone or telling some Jokerz asshole where they can stick their funny clown gimmick. That kind of talk came easy, cause it came from a place of caring, warm and righteous. But in moments like this one, when the words felt like a cutting edge, he wished he'd just kept his mouth shut.

He knew it the second Jason grabbed his face, squeezed it until his jaw ached. He wasn't afraid - Batman had trained that out of him - But deep down? He felt that first doubt begin to blossom. Not because Jason was angry, but because what if Terry was wrong? About Bruce. About everything. About his choice to be here at all.

Terry never thought Bruce would lie. Withhold things, sure. The man's secrets had secrets and Terry could dig for days and never uncover them all. But these secrets? They were rotten things, buried under layers of silence and it felt like a betrayal.

He didn't say anything when Dick tucked the phone into the utility belt. Just nodded, quiet. The kiss that followed lit up something lonely and desperate behind his ribs, but he didn't know what to do with that either. With any of it.

Bruce arrived only minutes later, stone-faced and silent. Terry had been right about that at least. Batman had found him. He just didn't know if that was the problem. He said nothing when he cut Terry free but Terry didn't need him to. That cold, disappointed stare cut him deeper than any lecture would.

He doesn't know how he managed it, but he slipped the phone free from the belt without Bruce noticing it. He never text Dick. Never even powered it on. But, he liked knowing he had it. It was a lifeline he wasn't ready to trust, but didn't want to lose.

There's a deceptive sort of calm to the way Bruce interrogated him, questions sharp and demanding, but the look on Bruce's face never changing. Terry could hear the anger underneath. He could sense Bruce's need to wrestle back whatever control he thought he might have lost when Terry took off in his suit. Terry thought he'd answered honestly, but it never seemed to matter. Nothing he said seemed to be the answer Bruce wanted. Terry's glad when Bruce finally let the whole thing go.

Sort of.

The weeks that followed were brutal. Bruce doubled his training, tightened every screw of discipline until Terry could barely breathe without hearing corrections barked at him. At least they didn't talk about that night again. Not until Terry felt brave enough to bring it up himself.

He waited until Bruce was suiting up for patrol, voice low, question a simple one he thought: What happened to Jason?

The air changed when Bruce turned to look at him with a gaze harder than any punch. Terry would've flinched if he was someone else. But he wasn't someone else. He was Robin. Batman's partner. That should've meant something.

But right then? It didn't mean shit.

The argument that followed was a brutal one. Ugly in the way only people who cared too much could be. Terry would have left the cave that night thinking he'd walk away from all this for good.

Bruce left first.

But the tension doesn't go with him. It lingered, heavy and sour like something rotting in the walls. The old man wanted to keep his secrets? Fine. He could choke on them. Terry moved through the night routine like muscle memory. Video feeds came online. Intel pulled. Systems synced and ready for use. But the commline stayed cold. Silent. He'd give Bruce his data. That didn't mean they had to talk. He paused when he saw the phone, out of place among the rest of his gear. He didn't hesitate. Just powered it up and texted the only number he found inside. No plan, no overthinking. Just instinct. And maybe, somewhere under all that quiet, simmering rage, Terry had a quiet need to reach out to someone who might actually give a damn.

Batman found me.

[deadbirdarising]

While Dick gathered up the supplies they couldn't live without, Jason let some of the residual anger be of use by taking a pipe to the computer set up. Everything was backed up to their servers, after all, so destroying the machine didn't destroy the data. It did make it impossible for Bruce to be able to hack his way into their systems, though.

And if he took an extra moment to be exceptionally thorough with his job so that Bruce would have to sort through pieces with a dust pan and superglue to even stand a chance...well, he was very good at his job and very, very aware of how infuriatingly good Bruce was at his. When the CPU looked like nothing more than a LEGO set, he poured the last half of the boba out over the remaining pile. Sugar, milk, and melting ice would gum up anything his beating had missed.

Afterwards, they'd lingered just long enough on a vaguely near-ish rooftop to be able to see Batman arrive in all his pissed off glory. To make sure someone didn't find the kid first, obviously. Leaving him trussed up like that in a dead suit would have been serving him up on a silver platter if someone else had stumbled in first and Jason didn't like the little punk ass newbie, but he didn't hate him enough to see him dead. But the Bat was hard to miss and Jason was still a little pissed, so they hadn't lingered long after that.

They kept to Bludhaven for a while after that, unwilling to cross paths with Bruce or his newest little project. Jason ran a little hot for the next few days, left a few more people in the hospital than he had been for the last couple years, but no bodies washed up with his lead in them and eventually Tim showed up in their apartment to drag him on a weekend trip. He came back lighter, like he always did, and he even murmured a quiet apology against Dick's lips.

The burner wasn't forgotten, but they hadn't survived as long as they had in their chosen life by being impatient. Life went on. They worked, they patrolled, they flirted and argued and bantered and lived...and when Jason's phone chimed a new message while he was in the middle of passing out a food drop, he let it sit while he touched base with his contacts in the area and made sure that everyone had something in their belly before he retreated back to a rooftop to pull it free from his belt.

"..hn. Hey pretty bird, looks like he didn't lose your burner after all."

Didn't break his golden rule on your sorry ass, I see.