Chapter Text
The night's cold, really fucking cold, and Jason already finished patrol but he's still out running the streets and he curses Bruce for it. If that man actually did his job then they wouldn't need his warning but he learned first hand to never let their safety or survival rest in his hands. Bruce never does enough, never does what needs to be done to keep them safe, and so here Jason is. Doing it instead. He isn't even in Gotham, leaving it to his kids and not even checking to make sure something isn't going on before he goes. Not like he'd be able to handle it correctly anyway.
He'll never stop wanting to shoot Bats, it seems. Especially if he keeps doing shit like this.
His ear rings as Drake says something over comms. He doesn't answer, because they don't know that he's even there. He normally stays off comms and stays away from them in general, whenever Bruce is in town, but whenever he's out Dick usually comes by and tries to get him to patrol with them.
He doesn't take a gun in the face as an answer. That's what he hates about Dick- no survival instinct. And he kept doing it until Jason decided that it was too much of a hassle and he had to patrol anyway and while he's still doing it solo yes he will get on the fucking comm, okay?
Dick hadn't asked him to join them today, though. Jason had learned that Bats was gone from his own sources. And no he wasn't trailing them just to hang out, why would he ever do that, he was trailing them because Bats was getting docile and it would be a Robin that got hurt because of it.
He lands on a roof, hears the shuffle as two people turn to look at him. It's Nightwing and Robin- as far as he knows Drake is on the other side of the city patrolling by himself.
"Hood?" Dick's eyebrows furrow. Next to him, Damian tchs and crosses his arms, looking out at the city around them. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?"
Damian makes a face that shows that he's not glad to see him, and Drake perks up on comms, because Dick had never turned his off. "Hood's there? Why's Hood there?!"
"Hood can hear you, dipshit." He snaps into the comm, and Drake mutters something explicit. They should've known better- that at some point Jason would listen into their comms to find them. He's on stable terms with the sidekicks (or partners, as they would prefer. Jason just calls them all the Robins) compared to Bruce- can actually have a conversation with them all without wanting to blow a gasket. And when they're all really in a mood there's even animal piles, so he thinks he's good on the family front. He doesn't need Bruce, doesn't need to forgive him or even work with him to still be connected. That bridge was burned and he won't be the one that rebuilds it.
"Jay, what is it?" Dick cuts in, always the mature one that stops their bickering half way through instead of waiting until the end. He knows Hood wouldn't find him when Jason could just show up at the manor or his apartment.
"People are crawling out of the woodwork again." He says, because they are. He knows Drake just dealt with Harley a week ago, and before that Dick came into town to help out with Poison Ivy. They've all gotten jaded to the point where it's just a bit funny now, the cycle they're stuck in. "Caught word of Cobb. He's back in town."
Dick sniffs and Damian scowls, but neither are super surprised and he didn't expect them to be. Nothing's really surprising anymore, he had disappeared and they knew he would always come back, and bring his weird obsession with Dick back too. Just something else to be prepared for. It was knowing that it was coming- that's the important part.
"You know," Drake chimes in then, "I was doing a bit of research- the talon process apparently turns the shifter into an owl."
Jason makes a face. "You mean there's a talon out there that used to be an elephant or a bear or some shit?" Imagining something like a hippo shifting into an owl is a s trange image.
"They only use bird shifters for converting." Drake replies helpfully, grunts because he probably just jumped across a roof. "No one knows how they do it- it shouldn't be possible."
The emotion they should all probably be feeling is apprehension, but instead there's just a thrum of distant danger and intrigue. They're all fucked up.
"True talons are always falcons." Dick adds on, like it's obvious, like he just said something as simple as 'the sky is blue' instead of 'I know this because they tried to turn me into one'. Jason still doesn't know why, none of them do, because Cobb doesn't say anything when he does shit like this, but at least that makes a bit more sense. Cobb's interest, at least.
He thinks back on the last time talons showed up on his turf, unannounced and ready to kill. It took more than a few bullets to take them down, and now he's wondering how many the Court of Owls did this too.
They're trying to do it to Dick. Almost tried with Damian before giving up (the bird thing, he now realizes). Jason's done with people trying to use his brothers for their own goals. Done with people taking away their choice.
He blames the animal within him for being so protective, but he will also rip someone's throat out if they try any of that shit on any of them again. He cares too much not to.
Not that he'd ever say that out loud.
Next time he sees Cobb, he's going to shoot that fucker in the head and keep shooting until he stays down.
Dick twitches, looks at him and tilts his head. He's noticed the anger, the protective rage, because Jason's radiating it and it's flowing through the bond.
He kind of hates the bond, wishes it was a one way street so they couldn't listen in on what he's feeling. They can, though, sadly, and while it's barely noticeable when they're close and invisible when they're far away, it's still there and Dick is in tune with it better then anyone he's ever seen, because Dick always knows the minute any of them need anything. It's a bit irritating, but Jason can ignore it for the most part.
The thing he hates about it is that it also includes Bruce.
It started out as a bond between Bruce, Alfred, and Dick, before Jason joined in followed by Tim and Damian. Thing is, Jason died but the bond didn't so when he came back it was still there and even though he hates Bats he can still feel his emotions if he concentrates hard enough.
Kind of hates it. Despises it. Wish it was gone but not enough to actually break off of it. Mostly because Dick and Tim and maybe even Damian would show up in a panic thinking he died again and wouldn't leave until Jason accepted the bond so that they know he's still up and kicking.
Which is completely annoying and nothing else. It's not like he does the same thing, when it's hard to sleep and the night terrors are burned into his eyelids. He never finds comfort in the dull humming, the simple existence of it.
(Dick had apparently felt it, when he came back from the dead. Jason was already gone when he got to the grave but he found him a day later and then the Replacement did too and it's hard to hate someone that you're bonded to, but Jason still managed to do it the moment he heard the Joker was still alive. He couldn't really keep hating Drake, when all the kid felt was awe and amazement whenever he looked at Jason, like he had hung the stars, but it was easy to hate Bruce. Easy to when the Joker escapes Arkham year after year and hurts whatever Robin Batman had with him at the time. In that recovery period, after he came back, Bats never came to see him. He wasn't hidden, Dick said he knew where Jason was, but he never went to see him and that might've been the nail in the coffin.)
"I'll keep an eye on him." He says, before Dick can do something stupid like ask him what's wrong or hug him. He turns away, gets ready to jump off and head towards his apartment. "Keep you updated."
"Hood." Dick calls, and Jason should just go anyway, but everyone has a kryptonite and his is obvious, no matter how he tries to hide it. "Come on, we have the rest of Downtown to patrol."
Of course, Jason should've expected that. "Not this time, Wing." And before Dick could do something even more stupid like tackle him he jumps off the building and disappears.
He lands on the roof of one of his safe houses and groans, cracking his back. He's had a long day, as the Red Hood. There's a new trafficking operation starting up with its entrance right at the edge of Crime Alley, and he wants it gone but for once he can't just go in there and start popping heads. The men in charge had asked for a meeting already, they wanted his approval as the local kingpin, but they must've known something about his past transgressions because they were hiding if they had actually started the ring yet, if they already had people ready.
And since they're hiding it, he doesn't know if there's already innocents in danger and if there are he doesn't know where.
Which means playing along until someone spills or forcing the information out of them, and while he prefers the ladder he doesn't need Batman and Robin coming in on him cutting off a guy's finger.
Batman is back, too. Came back a few days ago and it's making him antsy, close calls letting him get a whiff of whatever Bruce is feeling and he hates it. Cobb is also annoying him, because while everyone else is spotting him he's staying out of Jason's sight because he somehow knows that Jason is going to kill him the moment they see each other.
Maybe Jason isn't as slick as he thought.
So no Cobb, Bruce keeps skirting too close to Crime Alley, and there's a trafficking ring that wants his approval enough that they're going to give him a present. He's had traffickers try and win his favor before. Most of the time their presents are people, or people shifted into exotic animals. There's something particularly enraging about expecting a gift and getting a caged liger shifter, which is literally so rare that there's only been a dozen in recorded history and they had definitely been stalking the shifter for months now, terrorizing them, and Jason blinks and suddenly the traffickers are all dead.
The liger was a kid, too. Was Tim's age at the time, a middle schooler, and he stayed with Jason until they could find his family, and it took a long while because he didn't speak English.
(He got that kid back, though. Found his family and took the plane with him and dropped him off at his parents house and he couldn't understand them but he knows a thank you when he hears it. Then he spent the next few days killing some international traffickers and was back before Drake connected the dots on the random killings in the Sahara Desert.)
So the idea of a trafficker's present did not sit well with him.
He's contemplating doing another lap around the alley just to clear his head when there's a sharp spike of surprise followed by alarm running through him and he shouldn't check, doesn't want to get involved while Bats is around, but the wolf inside him howls and he turns on the comms.
"I need an update, Nightwing." Bruce was saying, and it's been awhile since he heard him speak. It made him angry, and a few other things he didn't want to identify.
"Ambush, we're handling it." Drake is the one that answers, and he's guessing he and Dick were patrolling together. It's an odd pairing, normally Drake goes with Bruce, but he's guessing that Bruce wanted some good ol' father son bonding and Dick decided to patrol with Drake just to cheer him up. Drake grunts, yelps in pain, and Jason doesn't think they're handling it.
Bruce doesn't think so either. He demands a location and Tim gives him it, and Bruce and Damian are across the city but Jason is only a few blocks away and he's starting to worry about the fact that Dick hasn't said anything at all.
"I don't know, B- fuck!" That was Dick, cutting himself off for a reason Jason doesn't know, and maybe it's because they're fighting and focusing but they both go silent and a bad feeling starts up in his stomach, one he realizes isn't his.
He's honestly probably overreacting, but ambushes would always scare him more than he would ever admit, the heavy thump of metal hitting flesh pounding in his ears, the sharp high pitch laugh that will always be stuck in his head. He could leave it to them, leave it to Bruce, but he's not going to make that mistake again. Will never think leaving it to Batman could end well.
Bats is yelling through the comm, asking for an update, and Damian is trying to get Dick to say something, but the others aren't talking so he turns off the comm and gets moving. It only takes a couple minutes to get there, though it feels more like an hour. He's practically forced open the bond, waiting for the alarm to change into something worse like pain or fear. It stays at alarm though, edging close to worry before there's a sharp spike of panic and Jason can finally see them.
They're still a few buildings away, fighting off blacked out individuals on a rooftop. The thing that catches his eye is the darts sticking out of their backs, and even from here he can see something inside them- bright blue. Almost neon. He's guessing that's where the panic came from, but neither are slowing down. Whatever the dart was, it wasn't putting them under.
He makes it across another roof when Nightwing seems to trip on nothing, falling to the floor, and then suddenly there's a bird in his place, a very confused looking falcon, and Dick raises his wings like he's about to fly off but one of the men he was fighting gets there first. He stomps his foot down, catching one of Dick's wings between his foot and the floor and it snaps. There's an ear piercing shriek and someone else grabs the bird, and Jason just now notices the bird cage one of the other men had been holding.
Across the roof Tim had been replaced with a fox, obviously disoriented from such a sudden, unwilling shift. Before he can find himself someone kicks him into a wall, hard. The fox goes flying, slamming into the concrete and slumping. Tim doesn't move after that.
Dick shrieks again, for Tim this time, but they've already thrown him in the cage. He flaps his good wing once before pausing, head shooting up like he's sensed something.
That something was Jason's anger.
It's a family rule to not shift while in uniform, because if someone sees Tim Drake turn into a fox and then sees Red Robin turn into a fox they might connect some dots. But even with that rule, sometimes it can't be helped, and all it takes is one video or word of mouth for people to know that Nightwing and Red Robin, compared to the others, are easy pickings when in their animal forms.
(No one knows what Batman's animal is, and most people joke that it's a bat but then they see him in real life and they stop joking about it because he's good at making people scared.)
Compared to Jason and Damian, a falcon and fox are much less threatening, much easier to detain. Whatever was in those drugs wasn't a sleep agent, it forces a shift. Whoever these men were wanted a Robin and decided to play dirty to get one. They targeted Dick and Tim specifically, when no one else was nearby.
Jason was going to kill them.
And he had just reached the neighboring rooftop.
It's dark, the middle of the night, and he blends in with the shadows as he raises his guns and starts shooting.
They can't find him, in the dark. They try, taking out their guns because Jason wasn't someone they wanted, he was someone in the way, but their bullets went wide and Jason switched roofs and continued to blow all their brains out.
(Dick'll be upset about it later, him killing people. Drake's unconscious but Dick isn't and he'll get a berating later, when he's stuck in bed nursing a broken arm and alive and Jason'll listen and it'll go in one ear and out the other because he's alive and that's all that matters.)
The moment the last one drops Jason is jumping over, landing next to Tim, who's still sprawled out on the ground. There's another cage near him, too small for a fox to be comfortable in, but Jason doesn't pretend to believe like they wouldn't have stuffed him in there anyway. Drake's out, but he's breathing deeply and smoothly and Jason wraps an arm around the little thing and pulls him up to his chest. He's smaller than other foxes, not entirely grown because Tim isn't himself.
Once Tim is safely secured in his arms he gets to Dick, unlocking the bird cage and holding his arm out at the opening. Dick stares at it for a moment, broken wing hanging limply from his side. After a moment he hops out to the cage entrance before jumping onto Jason's arm, keeping his grip loose before climbing up his arm and onto his shoulder. Jason has a leather patch up there, because even though he shoos Dick away whenever he tries to land on him he still has one because it makes Dick happy and, as he said before, his kryptonite is obvious. Luckily, Dick is the only one that takes advantage of it. He doesn't think the other two have noticed yet.
He knows Bruce and Damian are most likely on their way, probably still a little bit out because it's a big city, and while he should probably wait here he's not going to hand his brothers off to Batman and expect them to be fine. If he wants them safe, he'll have to do it himself.
(Seriously, they get ambushed and Bruce can't even get here in time. It's ridiculous. It's why Jason hates him.)
He retraces his steps back to his safe house, Dick balancing on his shoulder and trying not to shriek whenever his wing is jostled. Tim still hasn't woken up, and Jason isn't sure if he has a concussion or not.
This safe house is small, two rooms not counting the bathroom. There's no table, the couch is in front of the kitchenette and the TV is two feet from that. The bedroom is large enough, and Dick hops off his shoulder and onto the duvet before turning back to him, broken wing held out and head tilted.
He's looking at the first aid kit on the dresser. At the obvious bird splints.
Jason tears off his helmet and pretends he isn't flushing. "Shut up."
Dick chirps, he feels a wave of fond, and can practically hear the 'I didn't say anything' from Dick's birdy expression alone.
So what if he had medical equipment for birds in one of his random safe houses? It just meant that he was prepared for Dick to do something stupid in bird form that would get him injured. Dick needs to stop looking so smug.
He splints Dick's wing and ignores when his brother chirps again, because then he would have to explain how he knew exactly what to do when he's never had to splint a wing before. The wing's held straight out and must be uncomfortable but there's a grin on that bird's face and Jason is not giving him the pleasure of acknowledging it. He's ignoring the fondness and pride Dick is projecting because he wants Jason to feel proud of himself and he wants Jason to know that Dick is grateful and he hates his family, truly does.
Tim still hasn't woken up yet, and it occurs to Jason then that Tim doesn't sleep when he's supposed to, so it might not actually be a concussion so much as it's Tim's body putting him in time out. He leaves them on the bed, does a lap around the apartment and checks it over. He doesn't find any bugs and all his guns are stached away in the right spots. He takes some time checking each one, making sure it's loaded and cleaned before moving back to the bedroom and checking in there. He finds nothing out of the ordinary and Dick watches him the entire time, standing guard over the sleeping fox behind him.
Jason sighs, sits down on the bed and takes apart his gun. Dick hops closer, and the falcon coo's, jumping onto his thigh before reaching up and nipping his ear.
"Fuck." His hisses, yanking his head away and rubbing his ear. Dick's giving him a pointed look. He knows that look. "No, dickhead."
The falcon does it again, barely catching his ear before pushing his forehead into Jason's stomach, like he was strong enough to move Jason as a falcon.
Jason knows what he's doing, knows he won't stop because he has neverending patience, so he makes a big deal of groaning and rolling his eyes before scooting Tim over and laying down. His brother chirps happily, hopping over to his shoulder and sitting down, curled up near his neck with his wing stretched out next to him. Jason scoffs, moving Tim so he's near Jason's arm before going back to cleaning his gun. In his sleep, Tim uncurles and drapes himself across Jason's stomach, a fuzzy ball of fur that makes it hard to do gun maintenance.
He fucking hates his family.