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joyride.
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.
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.
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"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'?"
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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."
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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?"
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"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.
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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"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?"
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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.
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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."
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“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.
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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.
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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.