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Jason hadn't seen his older brother in over a month.
Now, with any of his other family members, that's no big deal. They didn't grow up with each other, they could exist without one another peacefully for a good long while, it was a fine system for everyone. Dick was different than his other family members. He made a point to see all of them at least once every week or two. Jason had an inkling it had something to do with some underlying trauma and that was the best way he had to cope with it, but he had no room to talk about coping mechanisms, so he let it happen.
Since Bruce's return from the timestream, though, he'd been incredibly distant. It had been over six weeks since anyone had seen his brother in Gotham, and it was causing distress for everyone. No one had been able to reach his phone other than Damian, who Dick had instructed not to come to Blüdhaven until told otherwise due to him needing to catch up on work, and insisting the boy spend more time with his father. Damian was incredibly unhappy with the arrangement, but he was on such uneven footing now that Bruce was back that he didn't want to rock the boat just yet. Tim was concerned, but refused to show it. He was still upset with how Dick handled the situation with Robin, and refused to be in the same room with the man for the few days he was around after Bruce's return, but Jason could tell by how often he checked the man's location and watched for Nightwing's activity in the news that he was growing as concerned as the rest of them. Cass and Steph had been spending more time at the manor, and Barbara had been keeping them all up to date on Nightwing's nightly activities during lulls in their patrols. Even Alfred had been watching the cameras in Blüdhaven more actively than usual.
The only person who didn't seem at all concerned was Bruce, but that didn't really surprise Jason. As soon as he had seen how Dick handled things while he was away, he all but shunned the man in frustration. It was no wonder no one had heard from Dick. It wasn't as if anyone but Damian went out of their way to make it seem like they wanted him around, Jason included. He wasn't actively hostile, but he wasn't the most... gracious about his opinions on Dick's recent decisions.
He didn't think it would make his brother completely pull away, though, so he decided to put on his big boy pants and do something about it. As much as he wanted to be angry, it just wasn't like Dick to give them all the silent treatment, even when they were upset with him. When Tim was off on his Bruce-scepades, Dick still went out of his way to reach out and offer apologies and updates once a week to the kid when he could. When Jason was still in his Bat murdering phase, he got letters to safehouses and voicemails to burners that he still had no idea how Dick found.
He climbed up Dick's fire escape, half-cursing his choice to come in civvies. It was a calculated decision--trying to get Dick to be more mellow by making it clear he's not here on vigilante business--but it definitely would've been easier if he could grapple his way across Dick's shitty city. That's not even mentioning the fact that his brother chose to live on the 11th floor of a building with an elevator Jason wouldn't trust to hold his lunch.
He disarmed Dick's security and slunk his way through the window, squinting to look around the dark living room. He strained his ears to hear anything, but came up empty. Jason wandered blindly until he found the light, tripping over things on the floor despite his training and familiarity with the space. He flicked the light on and had to suppress a gasp at the state of the apartment.
Dick had always been messy, but there was always a sense of organized chaos in the space. Now, though, it seemed like Dick hadn't put anything away in months. Mugs, bowls, utensils, takeout containers, and the like were strewn about the space, stacked in the sink, on the island, the table, the floor. Clothes were tossed on chairs and ottomans and carpets, papers crumpled and scribbled on, sitting on every surface available. There was a stain on the wall and a pile of shattered glass beneath it, a few drops of long-dried blood on the floor next to it.
Jason almost felt the need to rub his eyes and make sure what he was seeing was real. He'd never seen his brother's space in a state like this, no matter what was going on in his life. His heart was banging against his ribcage.
"What do you want?" Jason nearly jumped out of his skin. He was so caught up, he didn't notice Dick entering the open window.
Turning to look at his brother, the worry worsened significantly. He had lost weight, his suit hanging looser than it had before. His cheeks were sunken, and once he finished removing his mask, Jason was sure he'd see his eyes were too. His skin was pale, bruised from punches he was probably too tired or hungry or sad or whatever to dodge, and he had wraps on his shoulder and left hand. Jason felt sick. He pushed it down.
"A guy can't check on his brother?" Jason tried to joke, and Dick furrowed his brow.
"Not you," he said, not angry, just despondent. "And not on me." He walked past Jason to the bedroom, moving about the apartment sluggishly, closing the door behind him like his brother wasn't even there. Jason stood stunned as he heard the shower turn on and the bathroom door close through the wall.
He wanted to be furious. It would be easy to fall back on rage and break down the flimsy particleboard doors between him and Dick, but it was outweighed by worry. Not even considering what Dick had said to him, something was clearly very wrong with his brother. He felt incredibly out of his depth because this was usually Dick's ballpark; helping with feelings and making people feel better were his most notable traits. Feeling lost, he yanked out his phone and dialed a number he hadn't in years. She picked up immediately.
"Jason?"
"Donna," he breathed. "I- Dick needs your help."
He could basically hear her grow protective. "What happened?"
"He's been pulling away so I dropped in on 'im. The apartment's a mess--worse than I've ever seen it. He came back from patrol and barely even looked at me, just went straight to the shower. 's in there now," he rushed out, trying not to seem too worked up.
"Okay, relax, first of all," Donna said, and Jason told himself he'd be embarrassed later. "This... has happened before, and it makes sense why it's happening now. Do not ask, I will not tell," Jason's mouth snapped shut. "I can't be there tonight but I can tomorrow, with the team. For now, just clean up for him and try and get him to talk to you, okay? Get some food in him, and call him out of work tomorrow. Can you do that?" Jason nodded, though she couldn't see him.
"Yeah, yes. I can do that. Thanks. Anything else I should do?"
"Just don't let him bait you. He's in a bad way and there's a chance he will say almost anything to get you to leave. Don't let him. If it happens, he'll wear himself out eventually," she sighed. Jason didn't like the sound of that, but made an affirmative noise regardless.
"Got it. Thanks, Donna," he said, and took a deep breath as he hung up. Glancing around, he was reinvigorated. He always did better with a task, so he set to work on cleaning while his brother got himself together.
It was almost an hour later when he heard the shower turn off, and he had already torn through the apartment. Dishes were done, floor was swept, clothes were in the hamper, and three near-bursting trash bags had made their ways into the chute. He was scrubbing down the counter when the bedroom door creaked open, revealing a red-eyed and wet-haired Dick Grayson.
"You're still here?" He said bluntly, and Jason took a deep breath, gently setting his cleaning supplies down. He had been trying to prepare himself for what Donna warned him about. He had seen Dick when he wanted to hurt someone and it's not easy to watch.
"Yeah, I wanted to check on you, and your place was a mess. Figured I'd help you out," he shrugged, aiming for nonchalant.
"Sorry you went out of your way. You can go now," Dick's voice was flat, tired. Like he was going through the motions of pushing him away without actually having the energy or will to do so. Jason stepped to get a closer look at him.
"What's today's date Goldie?"
Dick's eyes twitched, but didn't move to look at him. He wasn't doing much moving at all. "What's it matter?"
Jason shrugged. "Humor me. Forgot my phone."
He took a second to think, blinking slowly. "June 27."
Jason cursed as his hypothesis was proven. Dick was dissociating, and he was in deep. He put his hands on his brother's shoulders, gently squeezing every couple of seconds. "It's August, Dick. August 13," he watched his brother try to process this information, his heart sitting in his gut. How long had his brother been living like this? Feeling so shitty that he thought it was his parents' death anniversary?
"August," he echoed, squeezing his eyes shut. "But I just saw you guys. A few days ago." His speech was jilted, like he was having to force the words out. Jason squeezed harder.
"No one's seen you in Gotham in over a month, man. Barbie and Timmy’ve been on their stalker shit for weeks, and I had to stop Damian from comin’ here himself. What's the last thing you remember?" He watched closely as Dick took a slightly deeper, much shakier breath than he had been. That was a good sign--it showed that he was slowly gaining more awareness, at least in his body. Jason ran his hands up and down his brother's arms, giving him a bit to wake himself up.
"I- uhm. Arkham breakout. Fought Two-Face, with... with Bruce," Dick's body seemed to be completely rebooting. His eyelids fluttered, his hands shook, his breath stuttered. He opened his mouth to try and speak again, but Jason hushed him.
"Take your time, Dickie. You... You've been out of it for awhile. You're not gonna feel good. We can talk when you're back," he slowly walked Dick over to the couch and eased him down, quietly panicking for his brother. He kneeled in front of him, keeping a hand on his knee to give him something physical to focus on, and using the other to shoot a text to Donna.
dissociated. thought it was parent's death anniversary. coming out of it now
She responded almost immediately.
Stay with him for the rest of the night. Don't leave. We'll be there in the morning, as soon as we can. Get him talking.
He shot her a thumbs up, and tossed his phone on the coffee table, turning his attention back to his brother. Dick's breath was steadily speeding up and his eyes were flicking from place to place. Jason squeezed his knee in rhythm, trying to lead him in a breathing exercise, subtle and unoppressive. He was fairly sure Dick wouldn't notice for awhile, but it gave him something to do.
"Heard from Steph that Cass is thinkin' of stayin' in Gotham longer than usual this trip. Said she thinks she misses flyin' with us 'n' that she's lonely in Hong Kong by herself. Steph's thrilled cause she's sick'a the 'sausage fest'. Her words, not mine." He let his mind wander to their family, blabbering as another grounding sense for Dick. He deliberately kept things light and conversational, giving his brother something to latch onto without feeling scrutinized or pushed to respond.
He talked about Tim's last minute save on a case, and Damian's newfound joy in oil painting, and Babs' updates to their security, and Alfred's newest casserole, and his own high score in their Smash Bro's. tournament, and anything but Bruce Wayne or Batman or their father. He talked until he was scraping the bottom of the Fun Family Update barrel, and was near floundering for something else to say. He talked until he heard his brother pull in a deep, trembling gasp, and double over on the couch. That shut him up.
"Breathe, Dick. I'm right here, you got it. 'm not leavin’." He moved up onto the couch and rubbed his brother's back as he took in deep, gasping breaths, rocking slightly back and forth as awareness completely slammed him back into him.
"Jay..." He gripped the front of his brother’s leather jacket. “Jay. Jay. Jay.”
“I’m here, Dickie.” Jason grabbed his hand, wrapping his opposite arm around Dick’s shoulder. “I’m here. Can you tell me where you are?”
“Jay,” he breathed. “What’s… I don’t—“
“Don’t panic, I’m here. I know you got a lotta shit goin’ on up there, but you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen. Where are we right now, Dick?”
“I— hah… Apartment. Blüd,” he squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the fabric tighter. His breathing was steadier, but it was hard, damn near panting. Jason pushed down that burning, aching feeling he wasn’t ready to face yet.
“You remember what month I told you it was? What day?”
“Aug-August. 13. I missed— I missed almost two months. Jay, what have I been doing for two months? I don’t—“
“Don’t worry about that right now, Dickhead. If anything crazy happened, we would’a come sooner,” and should’ve, he thought. “From what Barbie’s told us, you’ve just been workin’, business as usual, but takin’ a few more blows. Your city’s okay, the family’s okay, nobody died. Now worry about yourself for a fuckin’ second, alright?”
He didn’t respond, but Jason felt him trying to wrangle his breathing back under control, so it’s clear his message was heard. He went back to passive comforting until Dick sat up, still under Jason’s arm but no longer completely curled in on himself.
“I’m sorry.”
"You got nothin' to be sorry for."
"I- but--"
"But nothin', Dick. It's alright. You needed help, I'm here to help. Wish I'd noticed earlier and I wish you asked, but we can talk about that later. For now, how's about we chat a little and then get some food in you, okay?" Jason knew he was sort of babying Dick with the "victim voice", which would've irked his brother in any other situation. Right now, though, it seemed to be the right call as Dick's shoulders relaxed just a fraction.
"Talk about what?" He began wringing his hands, twisting and bending them to crack every joint. A nervous tick that only resurfaced during really rough times. Jason could concede that this would fall under that category.
"Well, maybe we could start with what might'a caused this little episode?" He had a vague idea, given what Dick told him his last moment of awareness was, but he needed to hear it from the horse's mouth.
Dick gulped, blinking hard and pulling his hands close to his chest. "I think... Bruce and I got into a... disagreement."
Jason raised a brow. "A disagreement? Or an 'I'm mad at you but I'm not gonna tell you why, so I'll just berate you for other shit' talk?"
Dick barked out an incredulous, breathy laugh. "Oh, he told me why. Made sure to tell me exactly how upset he was with me and exactly how wrong I chose to do everything."
"What kinda shit did he say?"
"Oh, all the classic Batman stuff," Dick started, and Jason noticed he was seeming much more lucid at the cost of being much more manic. "I compromised the mission at every point, and I nearly tore the team apart, and I didn't control you well enough, and I betrayed Tim, and failed at raising Damian, and put too much on Alfred, and I messed up all the League's files, and I ruined W.E.'s brand, and I even did his funeral the wrong way, and a million other things he's just been waiting to tell me since he made it home."
"Shit, man," Jason sighed. While that should explain what the issue was, it didn't. Bruce was a self-centered prick at the best of times, but that never seemed to have too deep of an impact on Dick, even though he was usually the one to get the brunt of his bullshit. "That fuckin' blows. But Bruce has torn you to shreds before for lesser shit. Why's this one so different?"
Dick shot off the couch, clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides. "Because I ruined it for good this time, Jay. I've had so many chances to have a family, and I've lost every single one. My dad literally came back from the dead, and I still messed it up, and now I'm an orphan again because I ruined everything while he was gone."
Jason gaped. He felt like he couldn't keep up with Dick's racing train of thought. "Why do you think that, Dickie?"
"He told me he should've never let me be Robin." Jason's jaw dropped. "He told me he wished I was never Robin or Batman. And- And other than that initial reunion, mission intel, and that talk he never even looked at me." Dick was panting again, pacing back and forth across the living room. Jason slowly stood as not to spook him. "He didn't look at me or talk to me or hug me. He didn't ask if I was okay or say he missed me or even just say hi. I ruined it. I ruined everything, it's no wonder the whole family hates me now!"
"Slow down, Dick," Jason held his hands out placatingly. "No one hates you. I dunno about Bruce, and we'll come back to him in a second, but the rest of us? None of us hate you."
Dick scoffed. "Tim does. I took Robin away," he ran a hand through his hair, stopping short to pull on the strands. "I didn't believe him--I couldn't! Cass left me, you left me, Damian and Steph and Babs were stuck with me. And once Bruce was back, everyone ignored me or glared at me and-and I can't fix it and I deserve it because I ruined everything."
Jason felt a sharp, twisting stab of guilt. "Dick, I... I don't hate you, man. I had my own shit goin' on, and we did kinda use you as a scapegoat once Bruce came back, and I'm... sorry for that. That was shitty. But I don't hate you. Timmy's mad, sure, but he doesn't hate you, either. You guys'll talk it out and be right as rain. Cass had her own shit goin' on when she left, but she doesn't hate you. Barbie and Steph are worried sick, and I damn near had to restrain Damian from comin' to get you himself," he stepped closer, slowly, to look Dick in the face. He was flushed and still panting a bit, but Jason knew he was listening, watching as stopped his pacing and returned to wringing his hands as he processed. "I'm sorry we weren't there for you like you were for us, before and after Bruce came back. And when you're feelin' better, we can get all the siblings and sibling-adjacents together for a big feelings circle. But none of us hate you, man. You didn't ruin anything. It'll take more than that to get rid of us."
Dick chuckled a bit, nodding to himself. "I... yeah, okay. You're... probably right. Sorry, I don't know what's going on. My brain's going all haywire," he sighed, flopping back down on the couch. Jason kind of felt like he was getting whiplash. He couldn't imagine how Dick felt.
"Well, that'll happen when you dissociate so hard you lose two months. It's okay. It's fucked that Bruce said that shit to you. You of all people deserve a little emotional outburst."
"I'd like to be done with those for now, but I can't stop oscillating between feeling nothing and everything. I hate it when I get like this."
That piqued Jason's interest. "This has happened before?" He was 100% sure Dick would never share if he was in any other state, but he wasn't above using that to his advantage, especially if it meant he could be prepared in the future.
Dick sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "This happens, like, every time Bruce really goes in on me. This was the worst one by far, though."
"What usually happens?"
"Well," Dick sat up, crossing his legs and rocking back and forth with a far away look in his eye. Jason felt a little bad, but not bad enough to stop prodding. "Usually after the fight, I'll come home, and that's all I remember. Then someone will bring me back, usually one of my Titans, or I'll come out of it on my own in a few days. I'm kinda... volatile, I guess, for the days after I come back. Like a live wire, sort of. Random things will set me off, and sometimes I say some pretty nasty stuff when I want to be left alone. That's why I usually don't call anyone for help or anything. I spend a few days in and out of hyperawareness and not feeling real at all."
That would explain the glazed over look in his eye at that moment, then. Jason was about to ask another question when he was interrupted. "Can we be done talking, please? I don't- I want to do something else. Can we do something else?"
Jason found himself nodding without another thought. He wasn't used to being so... gentle with his brother, but Dick seemed like a wild animal ready to pounce or bolt at any second, and nobody wanted that. So if Dick wanted to do something else, they would do something else. "'Course, Dick. Wanna make some dinner? Not much in your pantry, but I found some soup."
"Yeah, that sounds good. Soup sounds good," he stood up and moved quickly to the kitchen, gracefully and robotically getting out the cans and pots. Jason followed a step behind, texting Donna as he went.
talked a bit. fight with bruce, thought we all hated him. i talked him down n he explained some stuff. hes making soup now
Again, not even a minute passed before he got a response.
That makes sense. You're doing a good job. Let him cook, it gives him something to do, but keep an eye on it. Put on a nature documentary, he likes the ones on sea creatures. We'll be there early tomorrow.
Jason ignored the small part of him that swelled at the praise as he put his phone down to search for the remote. He found a documentary on orcas, opting to choose one they could both be interested in, and let it play on a low, unobtrusive volume. The narrator's voice droned on and on as he turned back to his brother.
Dick was stirring a pot slowly, three open and empty cans of soup sitting on the counter next to him. He was humming a tune, but it was stilted and jumpy, like he was trying to replicate the feeling of comfort the noise would normally give him, but his body wouldn't cooperate well enough. He swayed back and forth on his feet, not unsteady but definitely not completely aware of himself. Jason decided he should try to keep him as present as possible.
"What kinda soup is it, Dickie? I didn't look that close when I checked earlier."
Dick just hummed and shrugged, still stirring and swaying and not in the same world as Jason at all. He sighed, resigning himself to Dick-sitting duty until his brother's awareness returned.
A not insignificant chunk of time later, they're sitting on the couch. The soup is long gone, with Dick only eating about half a bowl and Jason slamming three, and they're about halfway through a new documentary about starfish. Jason was doing a crossword (in the book that Dick got for him when he was just twelve years old. He never got to finish it, but Dick kept it anyway.) when he heard Dick emit a small gasp.
“Welcome back, sunshine,” Jason teased, aiming for normalcy. It seemed he made the right call.
“Fuck off,” Dick croaked, but there was a small smile on his lips. Jason counted the win. “What time?”
Jason checked his phone. “Little past midnight. Been out for about three hours.”
Dick nodded, sitting up and taking in his surroundings again, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap. Jason watched out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to put him on edge.
“You, um. You can go home now, if you want. I’ll be okay.”
Jason looked at him like he grew two heads. “No way in hell, Goldie. I’m stayin’ at least ‘til your Titans get here in a few hours.”
Dick’s head whipped to him, face indignant and furious. “You called the Titans on me? What am I, five?”
“No, Dick, you’re not five, but you need support. I’m not gonna be sorry for callin’ people who can ground you.”
“Since when do you care whats best for me, huh?” He snapped, and Jason had to stop himself from flinching back. This is a side of Dick he’d only seen when he spied on his arguments with Bruce. As much as he loathed to admit it, his heart was racing, even if Donna had warned him this might happen. “You shit on me and yell at me and ignore me for the whole time our dad’s dead and now you wanna help? Because I didn’t come running back to you guys so you could do it some more?”
Jason felt green creeping into the edges of his vision. He tried his hardest to push it back. “Listen, man, I already apologized for that. I wasn’t there to help before, but I’m trying to be here now, alright?”
“Too little, too late. You, of all people, don’t get to pick and choose when you wanna help me. You shit on me and Bruce for not being there and then turn around and do the same thing. You’re a hypocrite,” he jabbed a finger into Jason’s chest. He clenched his fist to dull the instinct to break his brother’s finger. ”I’m sick of being the only one who has to live up to all of your unbelievable standards. I’ll never be good enough for any of you and I know the only reason you’re here is so everything will go back to normal and you can all go back to telling me how horrible it is to work with me. Well, I’m not letting it happen this time, so you can leave! Don’t waste your time!”
Jason felt himself panting with rage. How dare Dick insinuate he doesn’t care? How dare he take this act of kindness and twist it into something so nasty? The pit was overtaking him, but he had enough self-awareness to know that. He also had enough self-awareness to know that he was too angry to think clearly, and that Dick was trying to get rid of him.
He clenched his fists tighter and kept his face as blank possible. “Watch the starfish and calm down. I’ll be back soon,” he turned on his heel and did his best not to sprint to the spare bedroom, closing to door behind him.
He covered his face with his hands, taking deep, shaking breaths through his teeth.
He was furious, but slowly, logic was resurfacing and pushing to the forefront. He was angry because he knew that at least some of what Dick was saying was true. He was a hypocrite. He knew he wasn’t always there when they needed him, and he got very used to saying no when something would inconvenience him. He held Dick up to insanely high expectations, and he would often belittle him when he inevitably fell short. And while he didn’t come to help with the goal of treating Dick like shit when he felt better, he couldn’t say he was planning on changing his actions once he got his brother back on track. In less than five minutes, all of his rage was pointed inward.
“Fuck,” he breathed, scrubbing a hand over his face. He had a lot of work to do to make things up to his brother, but it’s the very least Dick would do for any of them. He steeled himself, cracking his knuckles and placing a hand on the door handle. “Don’t be a pussy, Todd.”
He pushed the door open gently, looking back to where Dick had been, only to see that he had curled up on the floor, hiding his head in his knees and pulling at his hair. Jason frowned, slowly moving to join him. He floundered for something to say, but Dick beat him to the punch.
“I’m so sorry, Jay,” he pushed out through tears. ”I dunno what’s wrong with me. You’re being so nice and I’m being so mean and I don’t know what I want. I’m so tired.”
“You’re alright, Dick. It was hard to hear but… a lot of what you said is true.”
Dick’s head shot up, eyes full of fear and remorse. He may as well have stabbed Jason in the heart. “No, no, I-I didn’t—“
“Shut it, Dickface. You meant it, and that’s okay. I’m sorry for not… being the best brother. I’m gonna do better, Dick. I promise.”
Jason could tell Dick wanted to argue again, but he knew that the words hit him before he could start. His face crumpled and he shoved his head back into his knees, breaths growing shakier and shorter.
“I don’t deserve it. I was so m-mean, I didn’t mean it. What’s wrong with me?”
Jason took a risk, putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder. His brother only seemed to cry harder, but he didn’t pull away. “Nothin’s wrong with you. You’ve been through some crazy shit recently, and… none of us have been there for you. And Bruce has been… honestly, he’s been treatin’ you like shit for as long as I can remember. And we’re gonna talk about that, but I need you to know, Dick, that from now on. I’m here for you.”
In lieu of an answer, Dick just pushed himself closer to Jason, forcing his arm to enclose his shoulders. Dick shoved his face into his neck, weeping and apologizing and thanking Jason for god knows what. Jason just settled in for the long haul.
He knew things were far from fixed, and he and Dick would have to really talk later, about their relationship and about Bruce, because there’s no way Jason was letting the things that man said slide anymore. They’d have to talk to the others about boundaries and reciprocation and treating Dick like a person instead of some false idol. They’d have to talk a lot, but that could wait until Dick was in a better headspace.
For now, Jason held him as he cried. He moved him to the couch, covered him in blankets, and put on a documentary about koi. He held Dick until he fell asleep, and kept on holding him until he fell asleep himself.
He held him until he woke in the early hours of the morning, eyeing Donna apprehensively. He held him tighter when she gave him a smile and a nod. He held him as he dozed off again, content in knowing he had done a good job.
He would hold his brother until the Earth exploded, if he had to. For now, Jason will just hold on until Dick knows that.