A/N:

WARNING Chapter Contains: Rape/Sexual Assault and Graphic Violence

Extreme caution is advised.

As previously mentioned, you can skip from the ✹ to the ✹‖ to avoid the triggering section if you wish. NOTE: I left in some of the bits before it progresses and after the most severe things for you to get certain plot things, but if you think this chapter will be severely triggering, just skip to the next chapter entirely, or you can read only the very last scene of the chapter (after the last ◇◇◇ divider).

—

The next night, Dick was doing a few quick stretches on a rooftop in Blüdhaven. He'd managed to wrap up the Sifra case, but he'd been off his game all night. It wasn't bad enough that he couldn't get the job done, but his muscles had been especially tense and he'd been a bit distracted. ⁠It was probably the stress — he hated fighting with Jason, even if they'd settled it quickly.

They were fine now, really, they'd even made out a bit that afternoon, but...Dick couldn't help still feeling a bit tense.

He rolled his shoulders, and then flexed his legs as he bent down to put his hands flat on the roof, letting out a tired sigh and holding the pose for a count of twenty. It was only about two in the morning, so he still had a couple hours left to get through. He pitched forward into a handstand just for the fun of it, and then let himself fall backward back onto his feet.

He looked back up just in time to see Jason leaping onto the same rooftop as him.

"Red Hood?"

"Hey babydoll," Jason greeted, sauntering right up to him.

"What are you doing so far out of your territory?"

"Just wanted to drop by and see you."

"All the way in the 'Haven?"

"Mm," Jason hummed his agreement, putting his hands on Dick's waist. He slowly ran them up and down, crowding him back against the bricks beside the roof access door, but he made no move to take off his helmet.

"Interesting time to stop treating me like glass," Dick mumbled.

"What was that, babydoll?"

"Nothing, it's fine. You got the comms already? It's quiet."

"Yeah baby, don't worry about them, I got it."

Jason began to trail his hand down Dick's stomach, and his muscles tensed. He gritted his teeth, swallowing the panic that tried to crawl up his throat, and breathed deeply. All he could smell was the sharp tang of sweat and some sort of new aftershave he wasn't familiar with, which did nothing to put him at ease, but he consciously forced himself to relax his muscles. It was fine. This was what he had asked for.

He trusted Jay, he repeated to himself, as Jason slowly began to rub him through his suit.

◇◇◇

"Red Hood?" Jason heard Dick through the comms as he was taking down a group of thugs.

"Yeah babe?" he answered.

"Hey babydoll," he heard his own voice reply through Nightwing's comm, and he froze, his blood running cold.

"That ain't me," he said. "Nightwing? That ain't me!"

"What?" Bruce asked. "Oracle, confirm Red Hood and Nightwing's locations."

One of the thugs tried to get a quick hit in. Fuck this shit. He knocked the guy back with a foot to the chest, and pulled one of his guns, taking out a kneecap on each of them with four quick, precise pops.

"Hood is still in Crime Alley, and Nightwing's in Blüdhaven close to the Gotham side."

"Hood," Bruce said sternly. "Those shots better not have been you."

Jason ignored him, running back to his motorcycle.

"What are you doing so far out of your territory?" Dick's voice came through the comm again.

"Just wanted to drop by and see you," Not-Jason answered.

"All the way in the 'Haven?"

"Mm."

Jason was starting to panic, already kick-starting his bike, leaving the injured thugs in the dust, and taking off toward Blüdhaven. Fuck Bruce's 'no deaths' policy — if those assholes bled out, it wouldn't be on him. Those had been non-fatal wounds.

They were trafficking kids anyway, the world wouldn't miss 'em.

"Send me Nightwing's coordinates now," Jason demanded. "I'm on my way; which one of you is close? Somebody get him backup, I don't know who the fuck that is."

"Interesting time to stop treating me like glass," he heard Dick mumble in his ear.

"No," Jason growled. "Who is by Nightwing? Get him backup! Now!"

"What was that, babydoll?" Not-Jason asked.

"Everyone is moving in that direction, Red Hood, and you're all at least fifteen minutes out," Barbara snapped. "And that's a very hopeful estimate."

"Nothing, it's fine. You got the comms already? It's quiet."

"Yeah baby, don't worry about them, I got it."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, no," Jason swore, as he drove as fast as possible across Gotham, taking a corner too fast and skidding dangerously. "Oracle! Why aren't any of us transmitting to his comm?"

"I don't know, nothing I'm trying is working," she bit back at him.

"Why'd you cut the input too? I'd like to be able to hear everyone, just in case," Dick hesitantly brought up.

"I can hear them, don't worry about it. Wouldn't want you to be distracted."

"W— Oh. Uh, that's⁠—" he heard Dick start to say over the comms, but the Not-Jason voice cut him off.

"Come on baby, isn't this better?" the voice asked, and he heard Dick's breath hitch, before he moaned quietly. "Stop thinking so hard and just enjoy it."

"No. No nonononono." The words came out without Jason even noticing he was saying them, in a neverending chant that still didn't manage to drown out Dick's comm. Jason hadn't known he could get more panicked, but he could, he totally could.

"Say my name," Not-Jason whispered, and Dick's breath hitched again.

"Hood," he said breathlessly, "Red Hood."

Not-Jason was displeased. "No, my real name. Say it."

Dick gave another small, bitten-off moan. "Jay."

"That's right babe, just like that."

◇◇◇

That's right...

The words echoed strangely in Dick's head, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the rough bricks against his back. His breaths started to turn panicked.

"Wait— wait, stop," he burst out. "Jay, stop," he repeated forcefully, and snatched at Jason's wrist, halting his movement, but Jason pressed closer against him.

✹ "Shh, baby, come on."

Shh...

Dick felt himself start to tremble. "No. Jay, Jay stop! I said stop it!" He twisted Jason's hand back painfully, forcing it out of his pants and automatically crossing his arms protectively over the waistband of his suit.

"I⁠— I can't," he stuttered. He was having trouble catching his breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know I said⁠— but. Not like⁠— not on a rooftop, I⁠— I'm sorry. It's too much like Tar—"

"Don't you love me?"

Dick choked. "What?"

"Don't you love me?" Jason repeated. "Why won't you just let me make you feel good, baby?"

"Jay," Dick's voice cracked. "Why are you doing this? You know I love you, you know I do."

"Then what's the problem babydoll?"

"I don't— I don't want this right now."

"If you love me, why won't you just trust me to make you feel good? Just trust me."

"Why are you doing this?" Dick asked again, weakly.

His heart felt like it was breaking. He didn't understand ⁠— Jason had seemed completely fine with things before, he'd always been more than fine with stopping. What had changed?

"Did I do something?"

"I just want to make you feel good. I want you. You're so gorgeous; just look at you, babydoll."

"It doesn't feel good," he whispered, his voice shaking. "You told me. You told me to tell you if I didn't like it and you'd stop. What did I do?"

"I know what you like, baby. I know you. Trust me. Let me take care of you."

If not for the pounding in his ears, Dick would've sworn his broken heart had stopped altogether.

Jason pushed his thigh firmly against his groin, and he distantly heard himself let out a small, wounded noise at the contact. Dick's head spun. It was all so much, happening too fast — too much, too fast, too much.

And yet it was excruciatingly slow. Slow enough to take in every horrible second and know he'd remember it later.

How was he supposed to— oh. "Mallard," Dick blurted out the safe word. Was that what Jason wanted? He'd asked for it; would he only stop if Dick used it?

"Mallard." Dick repeated it, trying not to show how frantic he felt when Jason didn't respond.

"Come on babydoll, you're so good to me, so good. Just let me give back a little," Jason said, ignoring the safeword entirely.

Dick felt himself start to choke on his breaths.

"You told me, you told me, you told me. Mallard, mallard, mallard, mallard, mallard," he repeated in between pants. Oh god, Jason really wasn't going to be stopped. He wasn't listening, he didn't care.

There was no way to hold back the panic any longer (Jay didn't care) — he couldn't breathe (Jay didn't care) — the panic was flooding his system (Jay didn't care), overflowing (Jay didn't care), washing away everything else it it's wake (Jay wasn't going to stop).

Dick darted his hand up, feeling for the panic button on his comm and pressing it before Jason could stop him.

Jason chuckled lowly. "Babydoll, you don't really want to invite the family, do you? Come on."

"We don't have to do it like this," Dick got out. It felt more like vomiting than speaking. "I'll tell them it was just a false alarm, I swear, if you just stop touching me. I never wanted to press the panic button on you, Jay. I don't want to make things worse between you and B, but this will destroy any chance of ever getting along again. Just let me go."

His words sounded strong and assured, and Dick could only thank whatever part of him had taken over his speech because he surely hadn't thought any of that before it came out.

"Oh babe, it's okay. I forgive you." Jason tilted his head and brushed a gloved hand over Dick's cheek to tweak his earlobe. "I blocked your comm from being able to send out any panic signals before I showed up." He said it softly, lovingly, a parody of a sweet nothing.

Another icy flood of fear flowed through Dick's veins. (Jay wasn't going to stop).

Nobody was coming. (Jay wasn't going to stop). Nobody even knew anything was wrong, and Jay— Jay wasn't going to be stopped.

...And...and...

And if he'd turned off the panic signal beforehand...that also meant that...he...he...had planned on him saying no.

He wasn't just doing this, he had planned this. All of this.

Dick had apparently been mistaken when he'd thought he'd felt his heart breaking before, because he was positive he could feel it shattering right now, and this time was so much more painful.

"You planned this." It came out in a broken, betrayed whisper before he could stop himself.

Fuck. He shouldn't have let that come out. Showing hurt — showing weakness — wasn't going to get him anything but more betrayal.

He had even less control over his thoughts than his mouth though, and they raced madly, repeating and repeating and repeating the same thing. Jason had planned this. He'd planned this, he'd planned this.

Dick could feel the jagged edges of the shards of his shattered heart tearing at his lungs, even as whatever part of him had taken over before made him open his mouth again. "You know they're going to wonder why we've gone silent. Someone will come looking. Just stop now before someone shows up."

It should have come out confident like his last speech, but even this part of him apparently had its limits and his devastation couldn't be completely hidden.

It surely didn't matter, though. They both knew it was a flimsy lie anyway. Even if someone was on their way, Gotham was half an hour away.

"We have time." Jason rolled his hips against him. "And it doesn't feel like you really want me to stop, now does it? You know you wouldn't be this hard if you weren't enjoying it." He rolled his hips again. "Isn't that right, babydoll?"

A dry sob slipped from his mouth, and Dick bit his lip harshly, swallowing against the burning bile that rose in his throat every time Jason moved against him.

He was hard and it was making this all feel so much more sickening. It felt like the cruelest of jokes that he hadn't been able to get or keep it up when he had so desperately wanted it; and now, when the only thing he wanted was for this to stop, it was suddenly no problem.

God, he had never hated his body more.

"No!" he said desperately. He was not going to be convinced he was enjoying this, and he was not going to let Jason convince himself that Dick wanted this, that this was in any way okay. Jason could take everything else, but he couldn't have this. "No!" he repeated, more emphatically. "I'm not enjoying it, I'm not, I can't control— ! Please just stop; I don't want this. I don't want this."

(Jason wasn't going to stop).

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much."

Dick's stomach heaved, and he felt himself throw up a little in his mouth. To think, he used to think it was cute when Jason quoted Shakespeare.

At least Dick's brain finally seemed to be acclimating to the panic. He was still drowning, breathless, but rational thought and logic were starting to hesitantly creep back in.

He would never be able to overpower Jason just on strength — not at such close range with no space for Dick to move. And of course, his Escrima Sticks and Wingdings wouldn't do shit against Jason's guns. Dick didn't think he had the heart to try and cut Jason badly enough with the sharp edge of a Wingding that he physically couldn't shoot — even in the face of this betrayal he just didn't think he could possibly permanently maim him. No, he was going to have to use his brain until he could slip away. Think.

Ordinarily he would bank on Jason not being willing to shoot him, but right now...he couldn't be sure. Probably nothing fatal ⁠— he'd go for a knee or a shoulder shot. He was good at shooting moving targets, but would he risk accidentally killing him? Maybe. Dick didn't have many other options, though.

Fuck, why hadn't he thought through this before? He should have known ⁠— things were too good, Jason had been too understanding. Dick should've known there would be a tipping point, he should've been prepared.

"I'll suck you off," he offered desperately. "Whatever you want, I'll do it. I'll do anything, just get off of me."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, I bet you would."

Ouch. He supposed it was too much to hope that Jason wouldn't go for a low blow like that when he was already... well... It hurt even just to think it, and Dick's mind shied away from naming what was happening.

Jason rolled his hips slowly against him again, and Dick got the eerie feeling that if he could see Jason's face behind the helmet, he'd be smiling.

"Whatever I want, huh?" Jason's gloved hand slid between Dick's back and the wall, sliding down over the shape of his ass and squeezing, sharply pulling him harder against him with a small grunt. "Such a little slut — bet you'd like letting me fuck that pretty little mouth of yours." His other hand came up to caress Dick's face again, and the gloved thumb trailed over his bottom lip. "You'd bend over so nice for me too, wouldn't you? Let me fuck that tight ass right out here in the open?"

Despite his best efforts, Dick let out a small, frightened whimper.

Jason rocked forward again. "Might even take you up on it," he continued, before tutting quietly. "...If you didn't look like you'd bolt as soon as I let my guard down."

That had been exactly Dick's plan. Not that he had been very hopeful it would work ⁠— Jason wasn't stupid, and he knew Dick well ⁠— but still. Dammit.

Jason put a hand on the stock of one of his guns. "And you really shouldn't do that, baby." His voice was a soft croon. "I don't wanna have to shoot you — it's not very sexy if I have to fuck you while you're bleeding everywhere — but I will if you make me." He punctuated the sentence with another press of his hips. "No running."

Dick nodded slowly.

"Good boy," Jason said affectionately. "Wouldn't wanna mess up a good thing — you feel so lovely just like this." He squeezed his ass again, grinding hard against him. "Fuck, just like this."

His hand moved from his gun back to Dick's face, thumb running over his lips again as he started to rut against him in earnest. "So pretty for me, baby. Gorgeous. Put your lenses up for me."

Dick hesitantly complied, flicking up the whiteout lenses on his domino, avoiding looking Jason in the face.

Jason tilted Dick's face up, trying to get him to meet his gaze, but Dick's eyes stayed downcast. "Look at me," he ordered levelly, squeezing Dick's chin hard enough to bruise. A threat. Dick looked up.

All he could see in Jason's helmet was his own defeated, numb reflection.

"Perfect," Jason breathed, thrusting his hips harder against him. "Stunning."

Dick didn't feel pretty. He felt dirty.

Jason let out a deep groan, still rutting against Dick's motionless body like he was an inanimate object rather than a person.

Fuck this.

Fuck this.

Fuck his pride — Dick was going to get away, whatever it took, even if Jason shot him when he ran. Jason didn't care, and Dick couldn't fucking afford to right now either.

It would only make this feel even more demeaning, but he would beg if that was what it took, and that was all he really had left.

"Whyever you're doing this," his voice came out sounding so small, so defeated, but Dick forged ahead, "whatever I did, I'm sorry; I'm sorry Jay. Just please stop." (Jason wasn't going to stop). "I'm sorry — whatever it was, I didn't mean it, I swear⁠—" his voice broke, and another sob caught in his throat.

'Whatever it was'; that was disingenuous.

Jason no doubt wanted him to say it, to admit to his wrongdoing. It was about last night, it had to be about last night. Asking him to stop checking and blowing up at him was the straw that broke the camel's back, the last shove that pushed him over the edge and finally shattered Jason's patience.

Had he been planning this even as he'd held Dick close and murmured pretty words of support and understanding? As he'd asked for a safeword just so he could ignore it and hurt Dick all the more? Had he been thinking of this as he'd kissed him good morning? As he'd whispered lies of love and run deceptively gentle hands over his body? Had he merely been counting down the hours behind that façade, until he could perform his punishment and put Dick back in his place?

He had to've been. This was no spur of the moment act — Jason wanted him to hurt and he wanted him to know why, to know that he'd brought it on himself by stepping out of line.

No doubt at all, Jason wanted to hear it, to hear that he knew, that he'd learned his lesson.

"If this is about last night, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, I shouldn't have asked you to stop; I didn't mean— I didn't mean this. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I swear I won't do it again—" he choked out another sob as he screwed up his face. The words alone weren't enough, but maybe he could still play on Jason's emotions a bit. Assuming he still cared about what Dick felt at all. (Jason didn't care). (Maybe he never really had).

There was a small silence (Jason wasn't going to stop), and then⁠—

"Seriously? Ugh. You look like you're about to cry; I thought you were stronger than that. You couldn't have waited two more minutes? I was almost there, but that just ruined the whole picture — it's hard to keep looking pretty when you're a blubbering mess," Jason said in a completely different voice, letting go and stepping back slightly with a sigh. "Fucking cocktease. At least I got the most important thing, though."

Dick froze at the sound of this unfamiliar, warbling, politely disdainful tenor that was now coming out of Jason's mouth. Instead of slipping away and running the first moment he had any space like he'd planned, his whole body had locked up. He stopped breathing.

Jason's guns and Red Hood uniform, and his entire shape, began to melt away like thick wax, shimmering and evaporating out into the air, leaving a significantly smaller, middle-aged man with thinning hair and beady eyes.

Dick's head spun. This had turned so quickly from one type of horrifying nightmare into a complete other. And he hated the small part of himself that felt relieved. (It wasn't Jay who didn't care). (It wasn't Jay who wouldn't stop).

He had no room to feel relief when this was worse in a way; and he didn't deserve to feel relief when he had doubted Jason in the first place ⁠— had actually believed he would even do that.

"So the Red Hood's name is Jay? Short for Jason, is it? Any last name? And what was with that whole 'mallard' thing — was that a code?"

The man sounded completely self-assured and confident, and he was looking pleased with himself. Like this was all just a wonderful turn of events that had gone exactly the way he'd wanted it to, and Dick might just answer his questions for him. Like he'd broken Dick's spirit enough to make him just spill his secrets.

Sudden, molten fury burned through Dick's veins, unfreezing him, and quicker than the man could blink, he grabbed one of his Escrima Sticks from his back holster and swung it hard against the side of the man's neck.

He started to crumple, and Dick kneed him in the stomach, sending him flying backward.

Dick let out a wordless shriek of rage, all of his anger and humiliation and pain and self-loathing burbling up into his throat, overwhelming him.

"How does that feel, motherfucker?" Dick shouted, stalking over toward him."Stronger?! You thought I was stronger than that? Does that feel fucking weak to you?" He unholstered his other Escrima Stick, and bent over the prone form (which was still trying desperately to catch its breath), continuing to scream profanities at the man.

He didn't really feel at all in control of what was coming out of his mouth, but he savagely refused to care.

"Did you like that?" He brought the right-hand stick down full force, shattering his left collarbone with a sharp crack, and the man shrieked in pain, ineffectually raising a hand to try and ward off the blows. Distantly, Dick could feel that his face was wet with tears ⁠— although whether from anger or fear, he didn't know.

"Huh?" he pressed, batting the hand out of the way and swinging again.

"Was it worth it, you son of a bitch?" Dick was nearly blinded with rage. "Did that feel good?" He continued to rain blows down on the man, waiting, just waiting for a fucking answer.

"Did you enjoy tricking me into thinking someone I cared about, someone I trusted⁠—" a particularly vicious swing snapped another rib, "was touching me?" he swung again at the same place, "Was taking advantage of me?"

He landed several sharp kicks to his side. "Did you think I needed another fucking rapist? You think I haven't fucking been through enough? Think you get to put your grubby hands on me just because you wanted to?" His voice caught on a sob.

"I am so fucking sick of this shit! I am not a fucking sex toy! I am a PERSON!" he screamed, punctuating every word with another swing of his Escrima Sticks. "A person! A living, breathing human being! And I am so goddamn sick of you people. Do you fucking hear me?! I am sick of this shit. You do not get to just USE my body as a fucking TOOL to get yourself off."

"Please!" the man shrieked.

"You don't get to talk now," Dick's voice was cold and deadly, as he brought his hand down again, cracking the man's jaw. "You did your fucking talking. Now you listen to me.

"The next time you speak, it will be to beg forgiveness at the feet of whatever higher power may exist — and I pray that they are even less merciful than me."

He kneeled and pressed the end of one of the Escrima Sticks hard against the broken jaw, sending an extra electric shock on top of the already agonising pain.

"Where's your magic now, huh? You can make yourself look and sound like someone else, but you can't defend yourself?" He pressed harder, and the man screamed until his voice broke painfully.

"Oh, do you feel helpless?" Dick asked with mock concern. "Does someone else hold all the cards and you can't even do anything to protect yourself? Aren't you stronger than that?"

He spit in the man's face.

"I hope you fucking enjoyed touching me," Dick said viciously, as he got to his feet. "Because you're never gonna touch anything else ever again."

He ruthlessly drove his heel down onto the man's right hand.

"Is this what you wanted?" he roared at the man as he repeatedly stomped on his hand, pulverising his fingers.

"Huh? Is this what you fucking wanted?" he stepped on the man's stomach, and crouched to slam an Escrima Stick down on the other hand.

◇◇◇

✹‖ Jason hopped off of his motorcycle, letting it skid off into the sidewalk as he grappled up onto the roof next to the building where Dick was. Fuck, Dick was gonna kill the man, if he wasn't dead already. He'd stopped screaming in pain a while ago.

He didn't give a fuck ⁠— that bastard deserved to die ⁠— but Jason knew how Dick felt about killing, and he'd be damned if he didn't do absolutely everything in his power to keep that rapist son of a bitch from dying and making Dick feel guilty about this, like Dick was the one in the fucking wrong.

"Everybody else stay back, I do not want to overwhelm him," Jason said into the comms. "I'm about to engage."

"Hood, you aren't the best person right now⁠—" Bruce started.

"Shut the fuck up, B," Jason snarled.

"Shit," he heard through the comms, as he saw Tim come to a screeching stop on his motorcycle on the street below, looking straight up at Jason leaping onto the rooftop with Dick.

Dick whirled to face him, looking positively feral, and Jason held his hands up in surrender.

"Hey Dick. Dick, it's me. I'm gonna take off my helmet, okay b⁠— Dickie?" He caught himself before calling Dick 'baby'. That was what he had called him.

He slowly removed his helmet and set it down beside his feet, keeping his eyes on Dick.

"Do you want me to take off the domino too?" he continued speaking calmly and levelly, hands back up submissively.

"No." The reply was firm, but Dick didn't look any more like he trusted him."

"It's me, Dickie," he said, wracking his brain for what would convince him.

"A few weeks before I died, you came to the Cave and did a little training session with me to extend an olive branch and show you were okay with me being Robin. And when I told you I was tired of everybody treating me like a little kid, you told me you still slept with your stuffed elephant to make me feel better."

Dick was listening, but made no move away from the man's unconscious body, so Jason continued.

"Her name is Zitka and you had her from when you were little, at Haly's circus. You named her after the elephant there. And now she stays in the place of honor on top of the bookcase in our bedroom."

Jason bit his lip. "Sometimes when you go on away missions and I miss you, I cuddle her instead. I thought you didn't know, but then Roy took a creep shot of me taking a nap with her and sent it to you, and you never said anything, so maybe you knew all along."

Dick jerkily shook his head. "He never sent that."

"Okay, I didn't know, he told me he did," he said carefully. Fuck, he couldn't mess this up. What else, what else?

"You always insist that the birthmark above my knee looks just like a little teddy bear, and one time you spent an hour logic-ing your way through how it conclusively proved that I'm actually just a big teddy bear, because that's the type of shit you say when you're sleepy but refuse to actually go to sleep for some reason," he blurted out. "You even ordered a book online for me about skull readings or something, because you insisted that it proved that physical marks on our bodies can tell you about our personalities."

"What did you say when you woke me up having a nightmare last night?" Dick challenged, sharply.

"Nothing, b⁠— Dick, it was too early to talk. But when we got up this morning, I begged you not to tell the others I got the bruise next to my eye by accidentally punching myself in the face during the nightmare."

Dick nodded hesitantly.

"Can I come a little closer?"

"Okay."

Jason slowly lowered his hands to his sides and stepped forward.

"Stop there," Dick said, when he was about six feet away, and Jason halted.

"Okay?"

Dick nodded.

"Will you move away from him?" Jason asked, indicating the unconscious pulp of a man, and he was relieved when he saw that the chest was still miraculously rising and falling on its own. "I know you want to finish beating him to death, and I would normally fully support that endeavor, but please don't.

"If you still want him dead in twenty four hours, I won't stop you, I won't let anyone stop you. I'll even help, if you want. But I know how you feel about killing, and I think if you killed him right now, you would crush yourself with the guilt later, and you don't deserve that. You don't deserve to feel guilty for something he did, Dick." Jason held his gaze, resolutely ignoring Bruce in his ear bitching him out over saying the guy should die, and offering to let Dick do it.

Too fucking bad. It would be his choice.

Dick nodded numbly and stumbled backward to the roof access door, hitting it, and sliding down until he was sitting against it.

"Can I come sit near you, b⁠— Dickie?" Damn, he really wished he hadn't made such a habit of using variations of the word 'baby', because it was difficult as hell to keep from letting it slip out.

"Yeah." Dick seemed to realize his hands were still clenched tightly around his blood-covered Escrima Sticks, and he slowly put them away, back into their holsters.

Jason carefully folded himself down onto the roof, still about six feet away.

"How are you feeling?"

Dick shrugged, looking down at his legs instead of toward Jason.

"Is it okay if I call you pet names? You don't have to say yes, and you can change your mind if you don't like it." Maybe if he could substitute something else in for 'baby', it would be easier.

"J-just don't call me baby. Or ba—" he swallowed hard, "babydoll."

"Okay, Dickie. You can change your mind anytime if you want me to stop ⁠— just say so okay? I'll stop," Jason said softly, and then internally cursed himself.

He didn't want to make Dick feel worse like he had yesterday by treating him like⁠- well, yeah, Jason realized. He was treating him like a scared child.

"What we talked about last night, do you still want me to stop doing that?"

Dick shook his head no.

"Okay, sweet pea. You can even yell at me again if it starts bothering you."

Dick didn't respond.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Does this mean I can call you pumpkin now?"

Dick let out a short, hysterical laugh, and then abruptly burst into tears. Deep, shuddering sobs wracked through him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, crying into his knees.

"Why does this keep happening to me?"

"I don't know sweetheart. You don't deserve it ⁠— no one does. It's nothing you're doing, Dickie."

Dick shook his head violently. "Why can't I stop being such a dumb fucking slut?"

"You're not a slut, Dick, jesus. And you're not dumb."

"I really am. I never fucking learn. If I hadn't⁠— he⁠— I almost⁠— it would've been just like Mirage."

"Mirage?" Jason asked gently.

"When I⁠— Kory⁠—" he choked out, crying harder.

Jesus fucking christ, just how many times had something like this happened?

"Breathe, Dickiebird, come on. Can you try to match my breaths?"

"I...I can't do this. Go away, don't do this now."

"Do what? Deep breaths?"

Dick drove a fist down onto the rooftop. "Stop drawing it out! I can't deal with this again. I can't, I really can't. Please just go."

"I don't understand. What am I drawing out? I can give you more space, but I can't leave you like this."

"You're gonna fucking leave me anyway, don't pretend you care and you're just okay with it ⁠— like you're not just gonna walk away in a few days because you've realized I'm still a stupid cheating whore and a burden, and I won't let you even get anywhere close to me anymore."

"Dick. Stop it. I'm not breaking up with you, okay? Not tonight, and not in a few days, and not any time after that. We got through the past few weeks, right?" At Dick's look of alarm, he hastily clarified, "We don't have to get through everything the same way, everything doesn't have the same solution, but the point is we were getting through it, right? I'll work with you on this too. I'm not gonna get mad at you for this, you didn't do anything wrong.

"You're not a slut or a whore or stupid or a burden, and that was not cheating. Whoever told you any of that shit was lying, alright? Don't say that about yourself, you deserve better."

"I shouldn't've said anything last night," Dick mumbled, voice still thick with tears. "'S what I fucking get for telling you to stop checking."

"Dick, no. Come on. Don't try to make this your fault, it's not your fault, and you were absolutely right to tell me to stop doing something that was bothering you. You don't deserve horrible things just for speaking up. You could never deserve this, okay? That's fucked up, this isn't on you."

"I would've known, though," Dick said quietly, although his voice was still teary and jagged. "I would've known. He didn't say it."

"Maybe, but maybe not. Either way, it's not your fault. It was upsetting you, so you asked me to stop; that's how it's supposed to work."

Dick shook his head. "Wasn't worth it."

Jason closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Let's try those deep breaths again. Give ourselves some time to settle down, okay?" He did his best to suppress his boiling rage, as he demonstrated even, calming breaths for Dick.

His rage wasn't directed toward Dick, not at all, but it went in more directions than he could count. He was furious at the universe for letting this happen, at the man bleeding out on the rooftop a few feet away, and at anyone who'd even so much as thought about touching Dick without his consent. And again at anyone who had called Dick any of those ugly names and made him believe it was true, and at Kory and Babs for not doing a good enough job making it clear it wasn't Dick's fault, and himself and Bruce and the whole team and all of their friends for not fucking noticing most of it.

He couldn't possibly describe how absolutely livid he was, but he swallowed it down and breathed.

Eventually, after maybe ten minutes, Dick's breathing levelled out and his tears stopped.

"I wanna go home. Sleep," he mumbled.

"Yeah sweetie pie, we can do that. You good to fly?"

Dick shook his head tiredly. "Stairs."

"Stairs it is. I have my motorcycle, but...You can take it if you don't wanna ride with me."

He shook his head again. "'Ve got mine. Couple blocks away."

He stood up and bent to examine the lock on the roof access door.

"Want me to walk with you?" Jason asked, pulling his lockpicks from his belt, and holding them out.

Dick nodded and took them, making quick work of the lock.

"I'm gonna turn off my comm, okay?" he told Dick, before signing off to Barbara, and taking the piece out of his ear, tucking it into an empty compartment in his belt. "Do you wanna give me yours too? It's transmitting, but not receiving."

Dick handed it over with the lockpicks, and Jason turned it off, dropping them in with his comm, then he tucked his helmet under his arm and followed Dick down the stairs.

They rode home in silence.

After about half an hour they arrived outside their apartment building, tiredly climbing the fire escape, and letting themselves in through the bedroom window.

"Do you want me to sleep on the couch instead?"

Dick shook his head. "Can you stay...in the room?" The 'but not in the bed' went unsaid.

"How 'bout I sleep right here next to the bed?" Jason asked, and Dick nodded.

"Gonna...shower." He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared, and Jason set about making a nest of extra blankets on the floor while he waited.

Within the hour they were both clean and tucked into their blankets.

"Goodnight, Dickie."

"Night." It came out as a whisper.

"I love you."

Dick didn't reply, but Jason didn't mind. He'd said it enough times over the years that he'd practically paid it forward.

◇◇◇

When Jason woke up, he saw that Damian was curled in a ball on the floor at the foot of the bed. He was still in his Robin uniform, and he'd wrapped his cape around himself like a blanket.

Damn, bats were stubborn. He could've just asked.

Jason draped a thick quilt from his little nest over Damian, and the boy blinked his eyes open.

And fuck, if that wasn't the most devastatingly vulnerable expression Jason had ever seen.

The kid wanted comfort from Dick, wanted to make sure that he was alright, but Jason didn't think Damian was going to be able to get that right now, so maybe he'd settle for the next best thing.

He opened his arms, and Damian crawled into them, wrapping himself around Jason like a baby koala, and holding tight enough to completely halt blood flow.

Jason held him back tightly. "It's okay, he's gonna be okay," he murmured.

Damian didn't let go for a long time, long after Jason couldn't feel his arms, but that was okay. He'd give the kid his whole damn arm, if he thought it would help.