Chapter Text
Gotham, June 18, 2020, 11:37 PM EST
The hot, humid summer air contrasted the winter chill that'd hung over the city when he'd left all those months ago. Thanksgiving and Christmas had passed without his presence, one of which Jason knew Dick and the family had spent in the Watchtower's hospital wing. Other than Tim's brief text confirming Dick's state of living, he'd successfully avoided all things Bat while traveling the galaxy, participating in random missions with Kori. Worried, she'd asked him why he refused to return home, but he'd grunted and brushed the question off. Whenever she would approach the topic of Dick, he'd lie and say Tim's last report stated he was doing well. It wasn't entirely untrue other than the fact it was one report from months ago.
Arriving in Gotham yesterday, Jason prepared for more than just the summer heat to hit him. The inevitable cold shoulder he'd receive from his so-called family would bring the city quickly back into winter. He'd considered extending his impromptu Bat detox, but when he turned on his burner phone for the first time in months, he'd received a concerning text from Roy. To an outsider, the message appeared incoherent, but Jason quickly recognized the coded language they'd used during their time as Outlaws. They rarely used it. And the majority time, they only used it as a joke since its creation stemmed from a drunken text chain between the three Outlaws while briefly separated on a mission.
While he'd used Roy's text as an excuse, he couldn't deny his intentions for returning didn't involve a particular blue-eyed Bat. But, first, he needed to investigate Roy's text, which had sent him to an upscale club on the top floor of a prominent silhouette in Gotham's skyline. As his hand hovered over the roof's access door's handle, he considered turning on his Bat-issued communicator to listen in on any channel chatter. But he quickly determined he didn't need the distraction just yet.
He cracked the door and slipped inside, heading quietly down the stairs. Stealth was unnecessary at the moment, considering the loud electronica dance music assaulting his ears and pulsing in his chest, but the movements came naturally. The stairs ended, and after a brief walk down a hallway, he entered the club's main room. The strobing, colored lights lit up the room repeatedly, allowing Jason to glimpse the pulsating bodies nearby on the dancefloor and the bar on the other side. Then, with no foreseeable path around, he sighed before navigating the crowd, pushing back against sweaty bodies and avoiding drunken touches.
Dressed in dark jeans and a tight black t-shirt, Jason easily blended in with others at the club. The club's clientele dressed like billionaires because, well, they were. Their clothes were either simple but expensive, letting the name brands speak for themselves, or practically non-existent. With the warmer than typical early summer temperatures, the partygoer's outfits leaned toward the latter. He shuddered at the amount of skin-on-skin contact he encountered from traversing the dancefloor. He straightened his shoulders to close the final gap to the bar.
Once there, he leaned against the bar top, scanning for any sign of Roy or anything unusual. After a while and half of his whiskey straight, Jason began to doubt the legitimacy of Roy's text. The message didn't state whether Roy would be here but mentioned this club by name with a time. The only other thing of note was the name Tilton listed alone after the date and time. Being from Gotham, he assumed it was about the Tilton family, well-known in the business world as an off-brand Hilton family. While financially successful, the family's business was less global and far-reaching than other travel-associated brands. Still, they were inarguably in the top one percent of Gothamites, constantly rubbing shoulders with the likes of Bruce Wayne.
Before doing any research, he'd remembered the family comprising of a hard-ass dad, a bimbo of a mother, and one, bleach-blonde son, older than Jason but younger than Dick. He'd run into the son once or twice at the annual Wayne gala the year before Jason's death. But the interactions had been unmemorable, so much so that he didn't recall the son's name until he'd searched it on the web—Lucas Tilton. With the man's recent image burned in his brain, Jason searched for the familiar face, but he came up empty-handed.
Sighing, he sent yet another text to Roy that would surely go unanswered, like the previous twenty-seven. He shot back the remaining whiskey drink, drawing an impressed smile from a dark-haired, attractive woman nearby at the bar. Hiding his frustration, Jason gave her a wink and quickly moved toward the crowd to avoid a follow-up conversation. During his time away, he'd tried to distract himself from a particular raven-haired man with meaningless, unattached sex with strangers with little success. It didn't matter who or what he was doing; his mind morphed his attempted distraction into a piss-poor replacement for Dick Grayson.
As he navigated through the dancing bodies, his mind reverted to its old tricks. A gap in the crowd drew Jason's attention to a familiar mop of jet-black hair, briefly illuminated a deep red under the strobing lights. He strained and stretched around bodies as he waited for the lights to come back to confirm his eyes, but when they did, the figure was gone, once again lost in the crowd. He drew his eyebrows down and shook his head, willing himself to get it together.
He angled his shoulder and pushed forward again, maintaining a straight line to the door despite the constantly changing lights. The DJ quickly built up to a drop, and Jason's goal was to be out of the mass of bodies before that happened. Alas, he was unsuccessful, and as soon as the beat picked up, people jostled him around, causing him to fall forward into a man's back a few people ahead of him.
"Hey!" the man shouted, turning around.
Jason reached out to steady himself, grunting out unconvincing apologies that caught in his throat when he made eye contact with the man he'd bumped.
"Jason," Dick breathed, surprised, but the music carried away the sound of his name. Dick's expression changed as he composed himself, and a tiny smug smile replaced his shock. Instantly, Jason knew he was staring at Richie Grayson, not Dick, which was confirmed when another face popped around Dick's shoulder.
"You okay, Richie?"
Jason immediately recognized the blonde hair, more dirty blonde than bleach blonde these days, of Lucas Tilton.
When Dick failed to respond, staring at Jason with a frozen fake smile, Lucas glanced between Dick and Jason, pursing his lips at the awkward tension. Then, finally, Lucas stepped closer to Dick, placing his hand on the small of Dick's back and leaning against the shell of Dick's ear to speak.
"Who's this, Richie?" Lucas shouted to overcome the music, allowing Jason to hear. He tried not to cringe at the mention of Dick's playboy billionaire persona. Still, Jason couldn't help it when his lip snarled slightly before falling again.
Dick shook his head and snapped out of whatever trance Jason's presence had sent him into, smiling more genuinely as he turned to Lucas.
"This," Dick loudly said, gesturing toward Jason, "is Jase. He works for daddy's private security. His being here means Vale's article did exactly what she wanted. It got noticed." Dick smiled wide, flashing bright white teeth as he resumed searching Jason's face. "I'm surprised daddy sent you, though. I figured he'd send someone a little more." Dick paused, blinking. "Reliable."
Jason resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the jab, breathing deeply. He recognized the undercover persona of Jase, which he'd used several times doing undercover work with the Bats. Jase Todlen briefly worked security at Wayne Enterprises with ten years of military and special ops experience before being hired privately by the Wayne Family. Unsure what to say to avoid blowing Dick's cover, he stood there with an unamused expression, overshadowing Dick and Lucas with this height.
The corner of Dick's mouth slowly grew upward until the other side rose to meet it in a wide grin before breaking out into laughter.
"Always so convincing. You don't have to twist my arm," Dick said, playfully hitting Jason's chest with his fist, but Jason disregarded it with a lazy glance. "Let's see what daddy wants to talk about. Shall we?"
Turning away from Jason, Dick took both of Lucas' hands into his own, bringing the knuckles to his face to lightly kiss them. The sight lit a fire in Jason's chest, but he did everything he could to extinguish it quickly.
"It's been a pleasure. I hope this isn't the first and last time we meet," Dick said, gently dropping Lucas' hands back to his side.
"If I have a say in it, absolutely not," Lucas replied, the blush on his cheeks evident even in the shitty club lighting.
"Good. Otherwise, I'd be sad, and nobody likes me sad," Dick said, winking as he laughed. "But if I keep Bruce waiting, you'll probably never see me again. He's been mad since I left, so any longer, I'll be locked up in the manor for the rest of my days." Dick took out his phone, swiping buttons before adding. "I sent you my contact info. So don't wait too long."
Lucas pulled his phone out, smiling as he accepted Dick's contact transfer. He rapidly typed, and when Dick laughed at his cell phone, Jason deduced Lucas had already sent Dick a text asking to meet again.
"Yes," Dick said, brushing Lucas' arm one last time before heading toward the door. Lucas briefly viewed Dick's retreat, specifically his ass, if the angle of his eyes said anything, before giving Jason a curious look.
Scanning Lucas' face, Jason took in the blonde stubble that bordered his jawline, which, without, the man would look boyish despite his age. His skin tone hovered between Jason's authentic Gothamite pale and Dick's rich golden tan, reminding Jason of bright beige beach sand. Whenever the club lights shone bright white, Lucas' amber eyes brought memories of golden brown seashells on African beaches during his time with the Outlaws to mind. Everything about this man screamed beach resort vacation, a far cry from the city they existed in with its dreary, overcast skies.
Even if Jason hadn't known, it'd be obvious Lucas had grown up rich by how he carried himself, as if the world should listen and cater to his every desire. But Jason's most important observation was the lack of recognition behind the man's stare. Despite having met years ago as young teenagers, Lucas, like Jason, wouldn't have recognized the other in a crowd without being reminded who they were. Satisfied, Jason narrowed his eyes before surging forward and clipping Lucas' squared shoulders to follow Dick out.
Jason caught up at the elevator, where Dick was waiting for the bouncer to usher newcomers into the club before waving them in with a nod.
"Have a great night, Mr. Grayson," the bouncer said, crossing his arms in front of him again to get back into position.
"You, too, Wynn. Remember, tell Sylvie how you feel later when you get off shift. Okay?" Dick responded, sporting a fake stern face and pointing his index finger at the bouncer. But, of fucking course, Dick would know the intimate details of a stranger's life from probably what was a simple elevator ride up to the club during shift change. Jason rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.
Wynn gave them a two-finger salute and nodded before the doors closed, muffling the club music and giving Jason's ears a reprieve.
"My bike is a couple of alleys over," Jason said, watching as the numbers descended above the mirrored door and the grinding of the elevator's mechanics completely replaced the dance music.
"I'm not riding back with you," Dick replied, styling his hair with his fingers before pulling sunglasses out of his back pocket. A faint, rapidly blinking red light on a bracelet on Dick's wrist caught Jason's eye as Dick straightened the glasses on his face. Jason assumed it matched the music's beat now floors above them and was a customized piece for the clientele, adding to the club's allure.
Jason's face contorted into confused disgust as Dick leaned back from the mirror and flattened his once two-sizes too small black v-neck shirt against his stomach. A silver chain that hung around his neck disappeared beneath the shirt's fabric, hiding the central part of the jewelry piece but drawing Jason's eyes to Dick's chest.
While Dick had always been smaller than him, Jason couldn't ignore the realization that Dick appeared tinier and thinner than he usually did. It wasn't necessarily a height thing, but his muscles seemed less defined than when he'd left. In addition, the t-shirt, which Jason recognized from years past, hung loosely on some areas of Dick's body, specifically his shoulders and upper arms.
"Dick, it's two am in the morning. What are you doing?" Jason asked, moving his eyes back to the elevator doors since he couldn't tell if Dick was staring at him from behind the sunglasses.
"I'm going to take a hired ride back. I can't be seen on the back of some random guy's motorcycle. That's not exactly the publicity we're aiming for."
Despite the questions that statement sparked, Jason ignored them, sighing.
"I'm not talking about the car situation. I'm talking about your stupid ass sunglasses when the sun won't be up for another five hours."
The elevator stopped on the main floor, and the door opened to the building's lobby for a Tilton brand-owned hotel. With little time for pre-work, Jason hadn't bothered to research the building the club was in, just the club itself. Nevertheless, the Tilton connections continued to grow.
Another bouncer awaited them, guarding a roped-off entrance from a long line of B-listers waiting to get into the club on the hotel's top floor.
"I'll see you at the manor, Jay," Dick said over his shoulder as he stepped out of the elevator. Instantly, strangers began shouting for Richie's attention, starting a frenzy. Dick flashed the crowd his trademark playboy smile and haphazardly waved with a hand high above his head while staying in line with the door.
Jason rolled his eyes before following, but upon realizing he was no one, the crowd ignored him and continued to pine after Dick.
The hotel security opened the door for Dick as he neared, and immediately a dozen cameras flashed, catching Jason off guard and blinding him. Dick bowed his head, tenting his eyes with his hands, as he quickly crossed the sidewalk into a waiting black SUV with the door held open. Jason stepped onto the sidewalk when the door closed, and the vehicle slowly pulled away from the curb. None of the paparazzi paid him any mind as they reviewed their shots, ensuring their picture was valuable enough for the tabloids to print.
One gentleman leaned over the red rope separating the hotel entrance from the crowd and asked, "You a friend of Richie?"
Jason snorted and ignored him as he walked out from behind the rope toward his bike. He spent the drive to the manor dissecting the scene back in the club. If Roy had sent him here to warn him that Dick had moved on, Jason would put an arrow through the asshole's foot. But, despite his jealous gut reaction, he knew Dick's appearance at the club probably related to whatever case Roy had been working on. The question remained: how?
When he pulled into the cave, Dick still hadn't arrived. Instead, a stiff, arms crossed, Tim Drake standing against the railing on the upper deck near the computers tracked him.
"Nice to see you, too," Jason grunted as he ascended the stairs to the main floor.
Tim narrowed his eyes before dropping his arms and returning to the computer. "Sorry. Maybe if this conversation happened five months ago, it would have been a friendlier greeting."
The expected response, but the extreme bitter coldness in Tim's voice wasn't.
"I had things to handle," Jason said as a sad excuse and effort to avoid this conversation.
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say," Tim said, waving him off. "You had things you could've handled here, too."
Jason hummed as he leaned against a table and crossed his arms and legs.
"Can you explain how Bruce explained his son coming back to life?" Jason asked. "It's not like he tried the first time something like this happened."
"Because Richard was never declared dead, unlike the first time this happened," Damian's condescending voice answered as he appeared from the weapons area.
"What are you talking about, brat? How do you explain the gravestone and funeral?"
"The small private event in the small family plot on private property?" Damian asked, running a rag over the knife's blade in his hand.
"Yeah, that one, demon spawn," Jason huffed, eyeing the knife to determine if its presence was an intentional threat.
"Don't get into it, you two," Tim interrupted, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Bruce never filed for a death certificate. He planned to do it, but it didn't happen for various reasons—lack of a cover story, grief, bad publicity, denial. Just name it. So, yes, Dick Grayson was never legally dead."
"So he just went back to living his life? No questions asked? Even for Gotham, that's hard to believe."
"No," Tim flatly replied with tense shoulders. "Things." Tim paused, dropping his gaze momentarily. "Things happened. Eventually, we needed his identity for medical reasons, but it wasn't until recently that Dick reappeared to the public eye."
Jason recalled Dick mentioning Vicki Vale and an article back in the club. "Using the Gotham Gazette?"
Damian's neck snapped in Jason's direction. "Were you able to read the article or just observe the pictures like a pre-schooler, Todd?"
Jason furrowed his brow. "I didn't see the article. Dick just mentioned it back at the club."
Tim nodded before turning to the computer and tapping the keyboard. Soon, the article in question was on the screen, and Jason moved closer to read it in detail.
"Vicki had the exclusive that may or may not have been planted by Bruce. According to the story, Dick was out galavanting, spending daddy's money and doing who and whatever he wanted for the last two years," Tim said. He scrolled down the article slowly, revealing photoshopped photos of Dick on yachts and in foreign clubs, having the time of his life. They all knew this was a stark contrast to the life Dick had endured in Egypt. "Thanks to Wayne Enterprises not wanting a scandal about the CEO's drunken, sex-crazed son, they paid to keep the headlines quiet until now."
Jason stepped back until he was once again leaning against the table. "Why now?"
Tim closed the article. "You tell me. You being here doesn't seem like a coincidence."
Jason re-crossed his arms. "I'm just trying to keep Roy from getting into more trouble than he already is."
Tim froze.
"Roy told you to go to the club?" Dick asked from a distance. The cave's elevator doors closed behind him as he walked to the main area. Jason put his hands in his pockets as Dick took his place next to Damian, greeting him with a light tap on the shoulder.
"Yeah, he sent me a vague text with the location, date, and time."
Dick shared a concerned look with Tim, who shrugged.
"When did he send you this text? Can I see it?" Dick asked, reaching out his hand. Jason glanced at the outstretched hand before pulling his phone out of his pocket.
"He sent it five days ago, but I didn't see it until I turned my phone back on yesterday," Jason said, handing the phone over with the text open. Dick quickly scanned the message, but his facial expression became more confused.
"This is gibberish," Dick said, handing the phone back.
"It's a coded language," Jason said, pocketing the phone again. "But trust me. It says the details for tonight."
"Master Dick," Alfred called from the medical area, appearing off to the side with gloved hands.
Dick gave Alfred a desperate look. "It's not necessary, Alf."
Alfred sadly shook his head. "Not my rules, I'm afraid, sir."
Dick shut his eyes with a heavy sigh before reopening and landing on Jason. "Don't leave out any details," Dick said, pointing an accusatory finger in Jason's direction before heading towards Alfred, who waved at Jason.
"Why does Alfred need to examine him? He's fine," Jason asked when Dick was out of sight. Damian's expression immediately turned sour, which Tim acknowledged with a pursed lip.
"It's part of the deal. Otherwise, Dick can't participate in the mission," Tim vaguely replied, speaking toward the ground.
"Deal?"
Tim's expression turned void of emotion as he lifted his head, staring blankly and unfocused in Jason's direction.
"You'd know the answers if you'd been here. It's not my place to provide that info. If you want to know, ask Dick yourself," Tim said, his eyes now sharp and focused on Jason.
Unsure how to proceed, Jason dropped his question and intermittently glanced toward the medical area as Damian and Tim continued interrogating him.
"It came from an unknown number?"
"Yes."
"Were there any other messages?"
"No."
"Were you in contact at all before this text?"
"No."
"How long have you been in Gotham?"
"Less than twenty-four hours."
The questions were short and, in Jason's opinion, useless. Finally, tired of the one-sided interview, Jason began asking his questions again.
"Where is Roy?"
"Missing," Dick answered as he reappeared from the medical area while putting his shirt back over his head along with a light pullover. Jason's eyes slipped to a scar, old and healed but new to Jason, prominent on Dick's chest, directly over his heart. "He's been missing for exactly a week, so your text is the most recent contact anyone has had with him. But how did he contact you when we couldn't contact him, and why?"
Realizing Dick had asked him follow-up questions, he quickly drew his eyes back up to Dick's face, but it was evident that Dick noticed his lingering eyes.
"I have no idea. I assume he was on the same Tilton family case?"
"Yes," Dick said, now standing next to Tim. "He was working semi-undercover. He was playing himself but involving himself with the Tilton family as part of an ongoing investigation into three different influential families. Bruce, Ollie, and Damian, who is back home for the weekend, are investigating a family in Star City. Stephanie, Duke, and Cass are on location for a family in Miami. Roy volunteered to handle the local family here with help from Tim and me."
"Why him and not one of you?" Jason said, looking between Dick and Tim. Dick shifted uncomfortably, transferring his weight to his other foot and crossing his arms.
"Roy shared the general physique, age, and other demographic descriptions with the other men who've gone missing," Tim said, pulling up photos of the others in question. Each male appeared to be in their late twenties and was from a well-known, influential family. "They've disappeared while traveling and staying at well-known luxury brand hotels. Some returned home after the family paid a hefty ransom; some never returned."
"Dick seems to fit this demographic," Jason reiterated his earlier statement, observing Dick's reaction.
"B decided and picked Roy," Dick said with a bitter tone as his fingernails dug into his biceps. After Dick's two-year adventure with Slade, it seemed Bruce hesitated to let Goldie out of his sights again. Not much of a surprise. "We've got a lead now, though. The Tilton family, whom Roy was investigating, is of obvious interest given Roy's disappearance and his message to you."
"The lead being your new boyfriend?" Jason asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Jealous, Todd?" Damian asked, reminding Jason of his presence.
Tim shook his head, annoyed. "Yes, Lucas is our lead and our into the family. But, before you interrupted, we were hoping to get more out of tonight. In particular, a potential invitation to the family's gala tomorrow night that Wayne Enterprises isn't typically a part of."
Jason threw up his hands in defense. "You didn't have to leave on my account. Dickface here is the one that picked the bodyguard cover," Jason said, gesturing at Dick, who remained unbothered.
"The night was done. Wasn't my choice," Dick said, disgruntled as his fingers continued to flex against his shirt. "And I didn't know how else to explain the tall, dark, and mysterious man suddenly appearing over me on the dancefloor, who clearly knew me. It was either you be Jase, the security detail, or a possessive ex, and I wasn't ready to scare off our target on night one."
Jason scoffed.
"I think this works out in our favor anyway," Tim interrupted before Jason could respond. "I recommend Jason join the mission and keep up the security facade."
"Absolutely not," Dick said, vigorously shaking his head.
"Not happening," Jason said at the same time.
"Dick," Tim started, ignoring Jason. But Dick stopped him with a raised hand.
"No. Jason isn't joining a multi-day mission when we don't even know if he'll be around in the morning," Dick said, addressing Jason with an icy expression.
"I can help in other ways. I don't need to go undercover," Jason said to Tim in agreement with Dick, ignoring the wounded feeling from Dick's statement. The last thing he needed was to work on a mission where Dick posed as some other man's boyfriend.
Tim gave Jason a brief look before turning to Dick and swapping his tone to a calm, soothing one.
"When, not if B finds out about tonight, he will pull you off this case unless you offer an alternate solution to the undeniable problem he was already worried about," Tim began, placing a gentle hand on Dick's shoulder. "If Jason is in the field with you, you'll have immediate backup if something happens. How else would you explain or fabricate another person being with you nearly twenty-four-seven if not for personal security?"
Dick inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled. "He doesn't even know what to do if something does happen," Dick argued, talking about Jason as if he wasn't only ten feet away.
"I can teach and equip him with everything he needs," Tim said, dropping his hand as Dick pulled out his phone and read a text. "He'll only know what he needs to know. Nothing more."
"Well, he has until tomorrow night to get up to date with everything," Dick said, looking up from his phone. "Lucas just invited Richie to the annual charity gala hosted at his family's home tomorrow night."
Tim smiled wide, turning to Jason with a raised questioning eyebrow.
Glancing between Tim and Dick before shaking his head at Damian, who held the knife threateningly, Jason let out an exaggerated sigh.
"Whatever. For Roy."
Dick snorted before standing up and heading back toward the elevator. He stopped a few feet short of Jason and gave him a stern look.
"I'll text you the details. Don't be late," he said as a warning.
Jason nodded, and then Dick continued his walk, pressing the up button and disappearing into the elevator when the doors opened. Damian gave Jason his own warning in the form of a knife motion over his throat before retreating to the weapons area.
Alone, Jason waited for Tim to say something, but his brother only observed him for a moment. He knew there was more to be said about his fleeing and absence, but it seemed, for now, Tim was willing to drop the subject.
"We have protocols to discuss before tomorrow night," Tim said, opening a drawer and pulling out a thin black cord bracelet similar to the one he'd seen Dick wearing. Only now did he notice Tim was wearing one, too.
"What the hell is this? Did we get matching friendship bracelets?" Jason asked as he caught the bracelet Tim had tossed in his direction. He thumbed over the small glass stone that turned faintly green when Tim pressed some keys on the computer.
"I'm all for jokes, but I would take this seriously. Consider it your second chance at proving yourself worthy of being trusted."
Tim's tone made Jason reconsider spitting out another joke.
"In your hand is Dick's heart. What you've always wanted, right? So watch it, guard it, and whatever you do, don't let it turn red."
Jason's first reaction was anger at the bold, smart-ass comment uncaringly said in the openness of the cave, but concern quickly replaced it. All Jason could think about was the rapidly blinking red light back in the club elevator and the implication behind it.
"What does it mean if it turns red?"
Tim began to reply when Damian reappeared, weaponless.
"It means you stay and fix it. No running away," Damian said, body tense before locking eyes with Tim. "For the record, I don't agree with this plan."
Tim sighed as Damian spun on his heel and departed from the cave.
"Whatever trust you have in Damian, get rid of it for now," Tim warned when Damian was gone.
"Why?"
"Like you, it's no coincidence he's here the first time Dick returns to the field after everything that's happened."
"You think he's spying for Bruce?"
"I know he's spying for Bruce. They never liked the idea of involving Dick, but we don't have much choice with Roy's disappearance. And after what happened tonight, I can guarantee Bruce will be home tomorrow before the gala," Tim said as he continued to pull random items out of drawers.
"Terrific."
Tim placed the items on the table near Jason.
"But Damian's right. If it turns red, you stay and fix it. Otherwise, I'm not stopping him from using that knife on you in your sleep."