Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Court of Owls doomed themselves. It was expected when you got on the bad side of The Dark Knight. So when Ra’s al Ghul, the demon head, reached out to ‘help’ them. They had no choice but to accept if they wanted to survive Batman's wrath.

Bright golden eyes met teal that had the acidic green of the lazarus pit swimming in them. His grandmaster stood behind him, daring him to act out. It had been years since he misbehaved or spoken out of turn. He learned fast what the punishment was.

So he stared at the young boy in front of him. He both recognized him and didn't at the same time. The boy’s face was like a forgotten memory surfacing on the tip of his mind. It was fuzzy, wanting to break free. His mind was telling him the boy was important. That he needed to be protected from both the Court and the League.

To be protected from the world.

“We can discuss the agreements to our alliance here.” The demon’s head said, gesturing towards a room that held a large meeting room. “Though weapons are not allowed inside.” 

His stare was pointed towards the Talon. He didn’t flinch at the hidden meaning behind the words. He knew what he was. It had been drilled into his head since his earliest memory. He was a tool, a weapon, a servant to the Court. He had no right to speak with them, to even think for himself. He wasn’t even supposed to feel. 

Though he would never tell his grandmaster that. He wouldn’t tell him how he hated being called a weapon. He wouldn’t tell him how he feels out of place, like a part of him is missing. He wouldn’t tell him about the urges to fly across rooftops whenever he went on missions. He wouldn’t tell him about the fuzzy memories of fiery red hair and bright green eyes. 

He wouldn’t mention the dreams of a cave that held dozens of bats. He wouldn’t talk about how he still remembers calloused hands against his face. He wouldn’t tell him about the protective instincts that were telling him to protect the boy in front of him. 

Because it wasn’t normal for a weapon to feel, to want, to think of their own volition. He was just simply a tool that would follow his grandmaster. Would jump off buildings for him, sacrifice himself (even though death can no longer get him). Because that was all he was.

A weapon.

The demon’s head grabbed the teal eyed boy by the shoulders. “Jason here, will show the weapon to his holding cell. Once we’re done, you can collect him.” Talon watched as the grandmaster's face twisted into something unreadable. Grandmaster had told him he had no need to learn emotions except for one: fear. He had told him fear made people predictable and unpredictable. It told him what they could do in fear, but not if they would. He never understood how one emotion could give him so much information. He didn’t tell the grandmaster that.

“Fine.” Grandmaster huffed out. He turned towards Talon. He didn’t need to say words to know what his grandmaster wanted from him. The look in his eyes read it all. ‘Behave’. He only simply nodded.

“Jason” Grandmaster gestured towards the boy. “Is your temporary handler.” He leaned in closer so he was met with grandmasters golden eyes that matched his. He learned this was supposed to intimidate him. It worked. But he knew if he was to flinch or coward away he would only be punished.

“Listen to him” He didn’t wait for Talon’s acknowledgement before turning back to the demon’s head. He watched his Grandmaster leave him. He turned to his new handler, with a questioning glint in his eyes. His handler straightened his back. “Oh! Right. Follow me.”

His handler, (It felt weird to call him that, he still sees him as a boy. Too small to be considered a handler) turned around and began to lead him through the winding halls. Talon didn’t approve of his handler turning his back on him. Even though he would never hurt his new handler, it still was unwise. He trusted too easily. 

“Listen. I know Ra’s said to bring you to a cell, but you're not a prisoner.” He turned his head slightly so Talon was in his view. “Or a weapon.” He whispered. They stopped in front of a door with fancy engravings on them. Most were symbols that he didn't recognize etched into the door. He already knew this was not where he was supposed to be staying.

Even though he could not see inside, it was too fancy. Too nice for him. His grandmaster loved to remind him of his place in the Court. He deserved a place that contained him. At the Court’s base that he calls home (the name feels bitter on his tongue whenever he thinks about calling that place home), it was often his cryopod. His grandmaster said his skills were best preserved while on ice. He didn't agree. But when he often found himself being put away outside of the Court’s base, it was often in places that smelled like mold and made him shiver. 

When his handler opened the door, he felt the opposite. The room felt warm. The window was wide open spreading warm light across the room. The room was mostly barren, except for the few tables, dressers and the large bed underneath the window. He watched the light hit the blankets that laid across the bed, haphazardly. He wondered how warm they were. 

He was never given a blanket before.

“So I figured we can just hang in my room, till Ra’s tells me to bring you back.” His handler stepped into his room and flopped onto his bed. He looked up at Talon, waiting. Talon tilted his head to the side. He was confused. His handler let out a huff and gestured for him to come in. “Close the door and come lay down.” 

Talon shuffled over after closing the door. The few times he got to lay in a bed, it was covered in dirt and blood and had springs stabbing him as he slept. He slowly laid down and melted into the warmth of the mattress and blankets, allowing them to engulf him. He heard a small chuckle from beside him. He turned and faced his handler. He wanted to thank him but knew better than to speak without permission. 

His handler slightly squirmed in what Talon believed was something similar to fear. Not on an extreme level. Not even close enough to make Talon worry, but enough to grab his attention. “Do they always call you that? A weapon.” His handler's voice came out as a whisper, as if he spoke the words too loud they would break something.

Talon stared at him. He swallowed the whine that wanted to come out. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak. His handler seemed to understand his inner turmoil and spoke up. “Oh, you can speak freely here. You—you won't be punished.” 

Talon was still unsure. Despite the verbal reassurance. His handler might not punish him, but his grandmaster would. So he answered with a nod. His handler seemed to understand immediately. 

“The league treats me the same. It’s their way of reminding us we’re on the bottom of the food chain. That they’ll always be superior to us. I was never called a weapon, they were nice enough not to say it to my face.” His handler turned to face him. Teal eyes met golden eyes once again.

“I’m Jason. What’s your name?” Talon frowned. He could not remember having a name. The Court called him their Gray Son. His grandmaster called him Talon. Did those count as names?

“I don’t know. Grandmaster called me Talon. Sometimes Gray Son.” He turned his head back to the ceiling and frowned again. 

“Grayson?” He looked at his handler’s—Jason’s face as it contorted into confusion. (He knew that emotion well from personal experience). “Holy shit. That’s why I recognize you” Jason shot up in the bed as he drove his fingers through his hair.

“You’re fucking Dick Grayson.” 

____________

When Talon finally left Nanda Parbat, he had learned a lot about himself. Or who he used to be. Jason had told him a lot. Stories of someone who he no longer remembers being. It brought back fuzzy memories. He could recall things Jason didn’t specify or didn’t know. He could finish Jason’s sentences about the stories before he even realized what he was doing. He could remember the fiery red hair and green eyes more clearly. He remembered who the calloused hands and gruffed voice belonged to. He remembers midnight tea being given to him on nights he couldn’t fall asleep.

He still didn’t remember everything. But every story Jason told him brought back a new memory and a piece of his old self. He also remembered how he died. He remembered the fear he felt. Not the fear of death. He could remember knowing he would come back to life. He was afraid of leaving his family behind. His friends. 

He remembers his grandmaster slitting his throat and forcing him to leave his loved ones behind. So when he remembered the look on his friends faces, on Bruce’s face. On Wally’s face. He knew he needed to get back. 

He also knew the Court wouldn’t let him go that easily. So he asked Jason for help. Begged him to sneak him out and take him back to Bruce and Alfred, to his friends, to Wally. He had cried when Jason told him no. Told him it had been seven years since his death. He told him of his short time with the team. How they still grieved him but mostly moved on. Told him how Bruce told constant stories of his days as Robin, but refused to take down the Court because he was convinced ‘Dick wouldn’t want him to do that’

Jason also told Talon about his own death. How Bruce had also failed him and refused to kill his killer. Talon could feel the rage off of Jason. He felt it too. He wasn’t mad at Bruce for not getting revenge, or coming to save him (Why would he, Bruce didn’t know he was alive). He was mad at Bruce for letting another child take his place. For giving away his mantle that led to his death and his colors that only brought death to those that wear them. He was mad at Bruce for letting his little brother die.

Talon had promised Jason that he would find a way out. Would take the Court down and then save him from the League if he wanted him too. Jason had hugged him and cried and had said yes so many times he could still hear the echo of his voice in his ears.

It only made it harder to leave when Ra’s had called them back. To stand in front of his grandmaster, unflinching and with no emotion on his face. It was hard to leave his brother who tried to conceal his sad teal eyes, but was failing. He wanted to hug his brother goodbye and promise him he would be back.

But he couldn’t. Not without blowing the secret that he remembered. And that fact he wanted revenge. Talon— No Dick (He was no longer a pawn for the Court) doesn't just want to destroy the Court, he wants to erase them. They made him a weapon. Now he was going to turn the weapon on them.

The Talon quarters were carved from marble and madness. This was where Dick had lived for the past seven years. Now, it would burn. The Court always rewarded him with time outside the cryopods after successful missions or for good behavior. This would be their downfall.

A shrill whistle from his lips alerted a small shadow in the alcoves. Silent feathers flew towards him before landing softly on his shoulder. The owl replied with its own whistle before cuddling into Dick. Dick hummed softly at the warmth against his cheek.. 

The owl had found him when the Court was still hunting him. She had tried to warn him of the dangers he was going into but Dick was naive and foolish and ignored her warnings. He doesn’t blame her for his death. It was his own mistakes that cost him his suffering. No, it was the Court’s obsession with him that caused his suffering.

With a series of whistles and thrills, he handed the owl a rolled up piece of paper. She took it softly in between her beak, her eyes dilating with the new mission she was given. She gave a muffled hoot, before flying out of the room, staying hidden in the rafters.

He continued onward with the plan. He moved like a shadow, a ghost. His suit was black, rimming with the golden details the Court insisted to have on every suit. Even if they wouldn’t see him throughout this. He wanted them to know it was one of their own kind to betray them. To end their legacy. It didn’t matter. The Court wouldn’t see it coming. They are too obnoxious, stubborn to believe one of their ‘loyal servants’ would betray them. 

They thought he was still theirs. 

The bag on his back weighed heavy, lined with carefully packed League-grade explosives, enough to reduce the Court’s inner sanctum to dust. Jason had slipped them to him with a quiet nod and a warning.

Just—just don't die. Again.

It had been easy to sneak the bag back. His Grandmaster was smart , but just like the rest of the court he was arrogant. He didn’t bother checking Dick for prohibited items. 

Each step through the stone corridors stirred muscle memory he hated. Training regiments, secret staircases, hidden pressure plates set for traps. He knew this place as intimately as he’d once known the trapeze. (He hated it).

He planted the first charge in the eastern wing, behind the statue of an owl. Its hollow eyes had once watched his training sessions. Now he watched them right back as he set the timer: five minutes. Enough time. 

Maybe.

Next was the cryoroom. The walls were lined with chambers filled with sleeping Talons, their minds broken worse than Dick’s. He wouldn’t be able to save them. They no longer think for themselves. He had tried to talk to them before. They never responded. 

For some reason, he was the only Talon who was still somewhat sentient, even before Jason reminded him of his past. He shoved a charge behind his own cryopod. Maybe it would destroy the golden plaque that read his name. 

Dick moved on. He couldn’t save them. The best mercy he could give was to bring this entire legacy of horror down before more became like him.

The last charge went in the Council Chamber, the heart of the Court. Marble thrones lined the circular room. His own masters had sat there, hidden behind bone-white porcelain masks. He remembered kneeling before them, his limbs not his own. His voice not his own.

He remembered obeying.

Not anymore.

As he placed the charge beneath the central throne, underneath his grandmaster’s chair, he would be the first to die. He heard the echo of footsteps. He stood up slowly, eyes locked on the tall figure emerging from the dark.

A voice he recognizes instantly. “Gray Son?” 

His face was hidden behind the mask, glided owl with garnet eyes. His great grandfather, William Cobb. His original handler and the head Talon. His great grandfather seemed to have a soft spot for him that the rest of the handlers didn’t have. He would tell him stories of his father. How he had reminded his great grandfather of the man who passed away in battle. Now he knew those stories were fake.

“What are you doing.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. The Court never asked questions. His grandfather knew what he was doing. 

“You foolish boy, come here. We don’t have to tell the grandmaster about this.” Cobb held out his hand, waiting—no expecting for Dick to take it.

“No”

Cobb’s lips curled into a sneer. “You dare disobey me Gray Son. You were reborn here, sculpted. You were made perfect and this is how you repay the Court? Repay me?”

“No,” Dick repeated, he flexed the golden claws on his gloved hands. He grabbed one of the small kunai blades off his belt. “I was made into a puppet.”

Cobb moved fast, lunging with a hidden blade. But Dick was faster. Stronger. His style wasn’t Talon anymore. He could remember his training with Batman, his acrobatic grace. The fight was short. 

All it took was a swift kick after tiring Cobb out, to get him onto the ground. “If you leave now, you’ll still have a chance to live.” 

He watched his great grandfather get up on shaky legs. He glared up at Dick. Dick knew the attack was coming before it happened. He watched Cobb lunge at him, his dao blade aimed for his neck. But Cobb was slow and old. So Dick reached his neck first. The kunai sliced easily through Cobb’s neck as he launched it from his hands. He watched it lodge into Cobb’s spinal cord. He watched as his grandfather crumbled to the ground in a heap of paralysis. 

He left the kunai in his neck, leaving his grandfather paralyzed, waiting for his inimitable doom.

He retracted his steps with precision, weaving through columns and silent talons too slow to catch him. One last glance over his shoulder, and he was sprinting through the exit tunnel. He felt his sluggish heart hammer in his chest, as he mentally counted down.

Ten

Nine

Eight

The exit opened up into a long forgotten maintenance station under Old Gotham. He turned the final corner

Three

Two

One

BOOM.

The explosion hit like a freight train. The shockwave knocked him off his feet and sent him flying a couple feet down the tunnel. He felt flames lick at his exposed skin and the distant roar of crumbling stone echoed louder than any scream he’d ever heard.

He stood up slowly, panting, watching the Court fall.

The weight didn't lift. Not yet. But it shifted, like something had snapped loose in his ribs. Like his soul was shackled and was finally free.

He was finally free.

He turned and climbed out of the tunnel mouth, breath steady. He felt the electrum in his blood begin the healing of his burns. He watched as seconds passed before his charred skin was receding and being replaced with his normally pale, slightly grey, skin.

The rendezvous was a few blocks away, an old bell tower. Jason had refused to stay in the league, wanting to see the Court blow up. He had promised Dick he was capable of getting out himself and would find him here. 

He kept his promise. Jason was already waiting, seated on the ledge with a duffel bag and a bored expression. The owl sat next to him, preening her feathers, completely unphased by the explosions. Jason turned once he saw Dick approach. He let out a low whistle. “You look like hell.”

“You should see the other guys.” Dick smiled. It was unsure, but real. The first time he’s smiled in seven years. Jason offered him a protein bar and a canteen. Dick didn’t need to eat or drink, but he still found the sensation of cool water down his throat nice. It made him feel human. Dick took both and hurriedly swallowed his rewards as if it was the first time he’s eaten in years. (it was).

“So what’s next?” Jason asked, rising to his feet, once Dick finished the protein bar. The owl fluttered up onto Dick’s shoulder and cooed softly. Dick looked down at Gotham. Somewhere, the smoke still rose. He could hear the faint sirens from a distance. He was sure all of Gotham had heard the explosion.

“I don't know.” Jason bumped his shoulder, with a grin. 

“We’ll figure it out together.” Dick turned to him with a bright smile. He half expected Jason to leave him, once he was free from the Court. He wanted to protect Jason from the dangers of Gotham he failed to do before. He was just glad his brother was letting him do it.

“Of course”

Chapter Text

The safehouse was barely more than a broken-down shack. It had no electricity, no running water, no heat. But it was isolated and quiet. So they made it work. After years living under the Court, Dick had learned to appreciate the kind of stuff he got. 

Jason kicked the warped door shut behind them and dropped his duffel bag with a heavy thud. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at Dick and the fresh blood along his ribs, the singe marks on his gloves. “You look like shit.”

Dick tilted his head in a bird-like expression. “You already said that.” He moved closer to Jason and searched his head for signs of injuries. “Did you hit your head when you were escaping the league?” 

Jason squawked and shoved Dick onto the small bed like cot in the corner of the room. The owl on his shoulder squawked angrily at her perched being disturbed and jumped down to sit at the edge of the bed. “I’m fine! I should be worried about you. You’re caked in blood.” Dick looked down at his Talon garments.

“Some of it isn't mine.” Jason gave him a deadpanned look. Jason crouched down and fished out a rusted metal box from his duffel bag. First aid, league-style. Gauze, stitching needles, antiseptic that stung like a bitch and smelled like fire. He set it beside Dick without asking. The way you did with soldiers.

“Take your shirt off.” Dick tilted his head again. He found himself doing that more often. It was a trait he picked up as Talon. “Why?” 

Jason frowned as Dick didn’t move. “So I can clean your wounds.” Dick frowned back as he stared at his chest. He didn’t need medical attention. He never told Jason all of his abilities. He didn’t have the time to, with how fast they were acting on their plans. “Oh. I have a healing factor.” To prove it he pulled off his shirt and wiped away the dried blood on his chest. It flaked off showing undamaged skin, with no hint of injury.

“Huh.” Jason grabbed a cloth and Dick’s canteen, pouring the cool water over it. “We can still clean this blood off of you.”

Dick nodded and watched as his brother wiped the wet cloth across his arms. Jason’s expression didn’t change, but the tension in his shoulders did. With a sigh, he sat down beside Dick on the edge of the cot. “You know that doesn’t make you one of them. You’re not their weapon anymore.”

“Not anymore. They owned me for seven years.” Dick took off the remaining armor on his upper body. He kicked off his boots, letting them smack against the floor. He stared at his hands. Imagining what they've done over the years as the Court’s pawn. ‘They made me become something else. They didn’t just take my memories away. They tried to make it so there was never anything before Talon. Before I became a murder.”

Jason pressed the cool cloth against his face, wiping off blood, grime and dirt. “Good,” he muttered. “Means you still feel things. They didn’t fully succeed in changing you”

Dick let out a breathless laugh, sharp and bitter. “I feel too much. Grandmaster always hated that about me.”

They sat in silence for a long time after that. Jason continued to clean the blood and grime. He would occasionally grab a new cloth when the old one was too covered in blood. The only light in the room came from the lantern on the table, it flickered like a dying heartbeat.

“You know,” Jason said finally, “you didn't have to offer me an out.” 

Dick tilted his head, eyes locked on the rafters above.”You think I’d burn the Court to the ground and not get my little brother out of hell?”

Jason’s hand paused as he was throwing away the dirty cloths. “I’m not your—” he began, but the protest died as he met Dick’s eyes. He wasn't smiling, they weren't soft, but they were certain. “Yeah. You are.” Jason let the silence come back, with warmth in his heart.

His entire time with Bruce was him being compared to Dick, the golden boy. The dead Robin who he could never live up to. Now that he was here, looking at the older brother he never met but idolized. He could see why Bruce had idolized him so much. But Bruce was wrong. Dick wasn’t perfect. Not now and not before. Jason didn’t care though. It made him more human. Even if Dick no longer considered himself to be one.

“So… you’ve got a plan yet?” Jason asked as he pulled out a protein bar for himself. Dick stayed quiet for a moment. His mind filled with bright green eyes and dozens of freckles. Of the bright smile and loud laugh. Of the fiery red hair and the soft lips on his. He nodded once. “There’s someone I need to find. Someone important. I think… I think he’s in danger.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You think?” 

Dick exhaled. “I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like, ever since I’ve been getting my memories back. Ever since I remembered him, there's been this pressure in my chest. Like something’s wrong.” 

The last time he had seen Wally, it was when he died. He watched his eyes grow in fear as they both knew what was going to happen. He wanted Wally to save him, but he knew he would be late. No matter how fast he was.

“Someone?” Jason asked. Dick nodded once and smiled to himself as he remembered Wally. The days spent at the mountain or at their respective houses. The times they went to the arcade or the beach or just a day out in the park. Wally was his best friend. His everything. The one person who understood him no matter what. He wanted that back. He had to try to get that back, even if Wally no longer wanted that. He would try.

“You know where to start?”

“No. But I know who I’m looking for.” He said the name softly, scared if he spoke it too loud it would break something inside of him. “Wally.”

Jason blinked in surprise.”Kid Mouth?” He really shouldn’t be surprised. He remembers him from his short time on the team. Wally could never look at him. He never called him Robin, always some weird variant that insulted him. (Mainly Birdboy). He now knew why. It wasn't resentment for replacing Dick. It was because he physically couldn't. When Wally looked at Jason, it was with sad eyes. He refused to call him Robin, because he only knew one. Dick. Dick was his best friend. Dick’s death had broken him and Jason had only reminded him of what he lost.

Dick’s lips twitched faintly into a smile. “He hated that name.” Jason crossed his arms, slightly jealous at the clear affection Dick had for the man. “And you think he’s in trouble?”

“I think…” Dick’s gaze fell to his hands. He flexed them slowly. The pain in his chest grew the more he thought about Wally. He first thought it was because he was grieving the missed time the Court stole that couldn’t be spent with him. But the more he sat with the feeling the more he realized it was dread that pooled in his stomach. It was the feeling that something bad was going to happen soon, the feeling that was always right. He knew it was being directed towards Wally. It only came when he thought of the man. “I think I’ll find out soon.”

______________

The wind howled outside like a wounded animal. Dick didn’t sleep. Not really. The Court said sleep was for the weak. So they took it out. He liked to pretend. To drift in and out of consciousness as his thoughts took over. Somewhere between night and not-night, between breath and heartbeat, something shifted.

He felt it like a ripple. A tremor in his bones. The room wasn’t different, not physically at least. The air had changed, if felt thicker. Charged almost.

He sat up sharply. The lantern’s light flickered at an erratic pace. It could be dying. But a dying flame doesn’t flicker like that. The shadows stretched unnaturally long against the walls. It felt like something—no, someone was watching him.

Then came the pulse. It wasn’t sound or light. It was pressure. Like something just brushed against his soul. He felt his breath catch. (Something the Court took away from him but forced air into his lungs just to screw them over). And in that heartbeat, a name flickered across his mind like a spark

 Wally.

No image. No voice. No memory. Just the feeling of him, laughter, wind, heat, speed. As if Wally was somehow reaching out to him. Had known he was alive and was trying to find him. And then the sensation was gone. 

Like Wally had reached for him but hesitated. Then vanished. Dick staggered to his feet, his mind dazed. Cold sweat dripped down his spine. He stumbled to the rickety window and yanked it open, letting the freezing air rush in. It bit at his skin, grounding him.

“You good?” Jason’s voice came, sleep evident in his voice. Dick wouldn’t be surprised if he was half asleep. Dick didn’t turn to face him. Afraid that if he did, he would miss Wally—whoever was calling out to him. “Yeah.”

“You sure?” His voice was less tired as he sat up. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I think…” He murmured. It had to be Wally. He could feel in his bones, in his soul. It had been seven years, but he can still feel that connection to Wally. The one they shared throughout their friendship. During their kiss on the rooftop. During his death and after. “Someone’s calling for help.”

Jason stayed silent as he watched him. He’d only known Dick for a short amount of time. But he had new senses, sharper senses. He could hear things Jason couldn’t. Jason trusted his senses, including his gut. “You think it’s Wally?” 

It was too much of a coincidence. Dick had been adamant earlier about Wally being in danger and now he hears someone calling out to him. “I don't know.” Dick shut the window slowly, the wood creaking in protest. “But if it is… I’m going to find him.”

Jason nodded. Dick had been his saving grace. Even if he got himself out of the league, he wouldn’t have been brave enough if Dick didn’t show up. He didn’t care if Dick insisted it was because of their shared bond through Bruce. He was going to return the favor to Dick. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

Dick turned to him in surprise. He felt slightly hurt that Dick didn’t believe he would help him. He said it himself they were brothers. “We need money. If I want to find Wally, we need somewhere safer.”

“And with running water” Jason butted in. Dick nodded in agreement. “Seeing as both of us are legally dead, we need to resort to more… illegal means.” Jason narrowed his eyes.

“What are you implying?” Dick shuffled on his feet nervously. (Something he never did as Talon. Talons don't get nervous). Dick can only think of one way that would make money quick for them. Many villains and heroes know the myth about The Court of Owls. Some believed in them, some didn’t. He was sure it spread after his death. The entirety of the team was there and Batman. It would make his reach into the mercenary work easy. His contracts wouldn’t have doubts about his ability to do the job.

“Hired contracts. Not just regular people. Those who deserve it.” Jason gave him a disappointed glare and he felt something in his talon’s instinct to change that.

“You just got out of that life and you want back in?” He swallowed the instinct to let Jason scold him. Jason wouldn’t punish him for speaking. “There’s no going back after you kill someone. No matter how you justify the deaths. I’m no longer black and white, Jay. I can help us. I can..” He cut himself off. This was becoming too emotional for him.

“I can give us our lives back.” He looked at Jason with big golden eyes, pleading for his brother to agree with him. He couldn’t do this if Jason disapproved.

“Please, let me do this for us.” Jason cursed. Dick’s eyes had managed to double in size as he pleaded with him. They looked sad and hurt. Dick had been too hurt and too sad for too long. Jason didn’t want to cause more pain.

“Fine. But if you need my help, I’ll cross that line for you Dick. You’re my… brother.” Dick smiled at the confession. They only have been together for a day and yet they’ve bonded like they’d known each other since birth. He leaped towards Jason, throwing his arms around him in a crushing hug. He let out an involuntary trill as he rubbed his head into Jason’s hair. 

“Wha! Are you making bird noises now?” Dick paused only for a moment. He shrugged and let out a chirrup as a ‘yes’. He heard Jason sighed but he returned the hug. “Alright, enough hugs.” He pushed the older man off of him.

“Now how exactly do we get you some contracts?”

________________

He stalked the facility in silence.

It took weeks before Dick had found a contract that was deemed worthy of accepting. The compound wasn’t heavily guarded (for someone like him). Dick had slipped through the fencing an hour earlier, picking off cameras and motion sensors one by one. He moved like a ghost through the shadows, not even his footsteps could be heard.

Three guards on rotation. Two patrolling outside with outdated rifles and dull eyes. One inside the control. No metas. No alarms. No indication of JL or the team’s interference. No chance anyone else would notice what was happening. It was child’s play.

Just a private Kobra-funded trafficking operation, small enough to avoid suspicion but lucrative enough to be protected. According to the contract, they were moving kids, powered kids, bought and sold off-world. They were selling child soldiers. It hit too close to home for him to pass it up.

Dick adjusted the grip on the baton strapped to his thigh. It wasn’t the escrima sticks he used to carry during his Robin’s days. He barely had the money to get the weapons and supplies he didn’t steal from the Court of the League. He still had his various swords from the Court and few new ones Jason had given him. But he had promised himself that if he didn’t need to kill then he wouldn’t.

The contract only wanted the operation to be taken down silently.

The first two guards went down without a sound. The first going down to one hit to the head from the batons. The second only took a roundhouse kick in the jaw. He dragged the bodies into the shadows, trying his best to hide them.

He breathed. If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could see himself at another undercover mission with the team. He could imagine M’gann’s mind touch, Kaldur’s calm voice, Conner’s silent rage, Artemis grouchy face, Zatanna’s magic flowing off of her, Raquel’s chipper yet serious voice, and Wally’s loud mouth. He smiled. He could imagine Wally making puns with him as they silently took out guards.

When he opened his eyes, he was reminded of reality. 

He moved through the side entrance, bypassing the lock with a flick of his wrist and the stolen bio-chip Jason had wired into his burner phone weeks ago. (He didn’t ask where Jason got the money for one). The hallway beyond was narrow and reeked of ammonia and copper. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead like nats in his ears. 

Dick slipped past a bank of storage crates and crouched by the reinforced steel door at the far end. A keypad blinked beside it. He didn’t need the code. He had the skills to hack into it. But that’s how Robin did things. He was Talon right now.

He blew it open with a pocket EMP.

Screams echoed down the corridor, their panic evident in the intelligible voices. Someone inside scrambled for a weapon. He was already moving before the door stopped sparking.

Three men inside, none of them prepared for a fight.

The first tried to pull a gun. 

Dick shattered his wrist. 

The second reached for a communicator.

Dick slammed his head against the concrete wall.

The third begged. “Please, please, I didn’t—I was just the transport guy, man, I didn’t—”

Dick didn’t kill him. He didn’t kill any of them. But he left him bleeding. 

He scanned the room quickly. Rows of sealed cages, crude but functional. Two were empty. Four weren’t. Teenagers (maybe younger) drugged, unconscious, but breathing. One had a missing arm replaced by a half-finished cybernetic. Another had scarring down her spine that screamed Cadmus.

Dick inhaled once through his nose and exhaled sharply. He needed to reign in his anger. 

He opened each cage and lifted them out one by one, checking vitals, flushing veins with anti-narcotics from the stolen medkit strapped to his waist. He’d prepared for this. He always did. He carried the kids outside and laid them out near the treeline. He went back in and collected all the men, tying them to each, leaving them dangling from the trees near the teens. He called Jim Gordon directly with an anonymous tip and left the burner phone behind.

When he was sure the kids would live and the men wouldn’t escape before the police arrived, he turned back to the building and lit it on fire. 

The explosion took the roof clean off.

________________

It was officially a month after his last contract. He managed to find a safehouse in the Narrows, where he knew Batman would never be bothered with. He reinforced it with steel shutters and motion traps and stored enough weapons to take down a small army and enough supplies to last Jason and him a couple more months.

Still, he checked the locks. Every single one. Call it bat paranoia. He didn’t care.

Jason was out, insisting that they get fake ID’s and more toiletries. So he sat on the dingy couch he got from a garage sale. For a long time, he just stared at the wall. He let himself dissociate. Not letting overwhelming thoughts of Wally or Jason worry him to death. 

When he finally stood, he walked to the other side of the room and opened the black lockbox beside his cot. He knew they had enough money for weeks. Enough supplies for longer. 

Being cooped up was getting to him. He was becoming antsy, restless. He needed another job. If only to take his mind off of the fact he hadn’t found Wally yet. He opened the encrypted tab that led him to the dark web. He scrolled through the endless request of contracts. He was skimming when one caught his eye.

A protection detail. Doctor Ivo, a scientist that worked for the Light, creating speed-based energy weapons. His eyes narrow. Speed-based? Something tightens in his chest.

“Just a job,” He said aloud as he accepted the contract and began contacting his client. “That’s all this is.”

But something inside him knows it isn't.

Chapter Text

Dick already hates this job. It only has messes and complications one after another.  The flight to Hub City was a mess in itself. Flying to Illinois from New Jersey wasn’t cheap, not to mention he still didn’t have a passport with his new identity, (and he had to leave his feathery companion behind.) That left only one way to make it to Illinois in the next hour. He had bought a private jet.

“So what exactly am I doing here?” Jason asked as he stuffed his hands into his jacket. He had a bag around his shoulder stuffed with some of his things. They were at a small private hanger, the sound of the occasional planes taking off could be heard. 

“They refuse to let you fly here without a co-pilot.” Dick turned with a smile. He resisted the urge to scratch his face. He was currently wearing layers of make-up to hide the grey tinge to his skin and the black veins. It was irritable. He didn’t understand why women liked wearing make-up. Jason turned to him with wide eyes.

“Holy shit. We’re actually flying a plane.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. Dick could see the excitement pooling off of him.

“It was more expensive to hire a pilot, plus it’s easier to fabricate our flight plan this way.” He walked up to one of the men standing by one of the planes. He held a clipboard in his hand and he occasionally checked his watch. When he made eye contact with Dick and Jason he gave them a forced smile.

“You’re Dean Finch and James Warbler right.” The man held his hand out and Dick grabbed his with a strong grip. It was the alias Jason had come up with for them. He understood why they didn’t just change their last time, it was harder to make the connection. (He didn’t understand why they were bird related though). Still it felt weird to think of himself other than Dick Grayson. Even when he had no memories he still was known as Gray Son.

“Yep, sorry for being late.” He thumbed towards Jason. “He’s hard to get out of bed.” He felt Jason smack him lightly with an offended ‘hey’.

“You’re not too late. You got the plane for three days.” The man walked into the plane gesturing for Jason and Dick to follow. He opened the cockpit and began explaining controls and how to comms. “You need to contact us when you take off and land. Along with any weather disturbances. Use longitude and latitude if you have to land unexpectedly. We have private hangers in almost every state.” He pointed towards a table on the side of the plane. “These are the hangers we own, they’re coordinated with numbers and letters, just call out which one when you get close and there will be someone to direct you to land.” He nodded to himself as he checked his clipboard.

“Any questions.” Dick shakes his head as Jason plops down into the co-pilot chair. “Alright. Safe flight.”

They were in the air within the hour. It only took them two, till they were landing in one of the private hangers in Kentucky. “I thought we were going to Illinois? No offense but I think you’re a state off.” Dick rolled his eyes as they stepped out of the plane, and headed towards the entrance of the hangar.

“They don’t have a hanger in Illinois so we have to drive the rest of the way there.” He turned to Jason with a smile when he heard him groan. In front of the hanger waiting was a rental car. He threw the keys to Jason as he stuffed their bags in the back.

“I know you mentioned Bruce never taught you how to drive, so I thought Kentucky’s open roads would be a good place to learn.” He watched Jason’s eyes light up as he jumped over the hood of the car towards the driver side. He chuckled. It was moments like these that he was reminded of Jason’s age. He was only fifteen when he died and death didn’t change that. He refused to be called a kid, seeing as he just hit his eighteenth birthday a few months back, but that’s all Dick could see. He only wished he was there for Jason, maybe he could’ve prevented his death.

“Come on, Dickface! I wanna see how fast this thing can go.” Dick chuckled as he got into the passenger seat. “Fine, but if we get pulled over by the cops, you’re paying for the ticket.” Jason only laughed as he revved the engine.

________________

The job was simple. In and out. Protect the asset, take down the assailant, leave before the League knows to ask what happened. Dick had done harder things with fewer resources. Still, he found himself perched on the decaying iron scaffolding of an abandoned pharmaceutical lab on the outskirts of Hub City. He had a pair of binoculars, which Ivo had given him. He didn't need them, his eyesight was enhanced thanks to the Court, allowing him to see miles ahead clearly and in the dark. Still he held them in hands and flaked off the broken pieces of plastic coming off of them.

Dr. Ivo was rambling again, something about refining his artificial intelligence model to mimic emotion. Dick didn’t care. He was being paid to make sure Ivo didn’t get turned into a pile of bones by the failed experiment he’d let loose, not critique the ethics of robot consciousness.

A crash echoed in the distance only he heard caused Dick to stiffened. The android, a new Amazo model, burst through the treeline like a silver missile, dented, eyes glowing with unstable energy. The thing had absorbed lighting from a brief skirmish with Livewire two days ago and hadn’t stopped overheating since. Dick guessed it had about fifteen minutes before its core overloaded and it took out a city block.

He clicked the comm twice, a silent acknowledgement to Ivo to shut the hell up and run. The scientist didn’t even glance back, just bolted to the extraction truck waiting outside.

Dick dropped from the scaffolding like a feather falling. His boots hit the cracked cement with barely a sound, cloak flaring, his Talon mask in place. He only went out as Talon because Talon’s hands were already tainted with blood. Robin was taken and he didn’t want to make a new mantle to ruin that too. Talon was already ruined.

The android twisted its head toward him. “Subject designated: Robin. Mission priority: eliminate interference.” 

Dick was not expecting the android to recognize him. He had changed a lot since he last encountered Amazo. He stood in shock, still processing the name he never thought he would be called again. Dick didn’t have time to dodge the first strike, an electrified punch that shattered his ribs. He let out a raspy breath as he was thrown back.

Shattered ribs were nothing. They would heal by the time he was done with Amazo. It just made the job a little more painful. He dodged the second with a roll that aggravated his ribs and flicked a pair of cryo-disks. They sparked against its plating, slowing it just enough for him to duck under its arm and plant a thermite charge against its spine.

“Tag.” The android roared as fire licked up its back. Dick sprinted forward, vaulted off a broken desk, and kicked it square in the jaw. It staggered, but didn’t fall.

Dick huffed. It was too strong. He needed to distract it. He threw an EMP disk and it hit its chest. A sizzle and sparks exploded off of the android. It paused as it began to short-circuit.

Then it surged forward. Dick wasn’t fast enough. Its hand caught him across the chest and slammed him through a rusted support beam. The world spun sideways, he could task blood in his mouth and he felt his lungs rattle. His ribs had definitely punctured them. It wouldn’t kill him. But organs took forever to heal.

He coughed and wheezed as he pushed up to one knee. The android was already rebooting. He flung another cryo-disk, this one aimed straight at its chest. The freeze locked up just long enough for Dick to detonate the thermite.

The explosion lit up the dark room. Dick flung himself behind a concrete column as the android screamed and finally collapsed in a twitching melted heap.

Dick limped outside, clutching his side as he felt his lungs continue to rattle. They were definitely going to collapse. He would most likely have to force himself to stop breathing otherwise the pain will only continue. Perks of being undead.

Dr. Ivo was gone. Not surprising. The man was always a coward, hiding behind a machine as it did the dirty work. He staggered toward the alley where he’s stashed his bike, pressed a few keys on his wrist drive to remotely wipe the site. A new set of encrypted payments were already waiting in his offshore account. He had also taken some other form of payments that were agreed upon. He scanned the file on the speed-based weapon. The Light wanted to use the direct source of the speedsters powers, the speed force, as a weapon. He wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work. He didn’t care. It was possible he could reengineer it to track speedsters. To track Wally.

He was halfway through patching the gash in his shoulder (he didn’t need to but it made Jason feel better) when the encrypted notification flashed on his HUD. One of the scraping bots he’d programmed to dig into League transmissions had pinged. He felt his heart pick up as he read it.

Subject: Memorial Update — Kid Flash.

His fingers froze on the keyboard. He blinked, then opened the file.The video was shaky and M’gann’s voice broke something inside of him. “We’re gathered here to honor the memory of Kid Flash, our teammate, our friend, and our hero…”

Dick breath caught. No.

The screen showed the hologram. The one he recognized at League’s memorial. When he died there were only a few from the ones who had fallen in battle. He was sure he had one himself. No.

No. No, no, no.

He clicked away. He found the report immediately. An official obituary for Kid Flash. Statements from the League, Barry Allen, even Bruce. “...died saving the world during the Reach’s final assault. No body recovered… assumed dead.”

Dead.

Dick sat in the dark, silence ringing in his ears. Something twisted in his chest. His fingers clenched around the drive so hard the screen cracked. A choked sob escaped his mouth.

All this time. While he’d been trapped in the Court. While he’d clawed his way out. While he was burning the empire that raised him in blood and violence.

Wally had died.

Wally had died. If he hadn’t been so stubborn. If he had asked for help when the Court first showed interest in him, then maybe he could’ve saved Wally.

He pulled off the mask and leaned his back against his bike. His throat was raw and dry, as if he'd been screaming for hours. (Maybe he has and just forgotten, like he did with Wally). There were no tears. His eyes were unusually dry. He wanted to cry for Wally, but he couldn’t.

So he just sat there. Breathing. Letting the pain from his collapsed lungs rake his body, because Wally would never feel pain again. He would never breathe again or laugh or smile or talk to him. He would never see Wally’s face, his freckles or his bright red hair. He would never see the sparkle in Wally’s eyes.

“I should’ve been there,” he whispered. “I should’ve—” The sob from his throat cut him off. He stared up at the sky, finally letting tears flow fear. He wondered if the after life had stars.

And whether Wally was watching him from one.

_________________

The room is dim, lit only by the flicker of the neon sign outside and the soft steady hum of the mini fridge. Dick shut the door behind him with a soft click. His boots left prints across the floor. Blood and dirt had dried beneath his fingernails. He hadn’t changed out of his talon garments gear. He rode back on his bike in a daze. He didn’t care who saw him enter.

He expected Jason to be asleep when he entered the dark room, only to find him waiting in the dark. He could see Jason clearly. He didn’t move to turn the lights off, he didn’t want Jason to see him like this. Jason would have to deal with just the soft glow of his golden eyes. 

The moment Jason saw Dick’s silhouette, he knew something was wrong. Jason could barely see him in the dim light but it was clear something was wrong. It was still creepy to only see a golden glow from Dick’s eyes when he came back from a contract. He’s gotten good at reading Dick, through just his eyes. These eyes were sad. Sadder than usual. “Hey. What happened?”

Jason's words were quiet, he set the blade he was cleaning down onto the bed. “Was it Ivo?”

Dick didn’t answer. He leaned against the door like the world might crumble if he didn't hold it in place. Jason could hear the raspy breath coming from Dick, the tell tale sign of a punctured lung. His eyes were glazed over and unfocused. Jason stood and approached Dick slowly. He didn’t feel like getting attacked by a dazed talon. “Dick?”

“He’s dead.” Dick said.

Jason blinked. “Ivo? It’s fine, we’ll find another contract for money in Hub city or—” Dick cut him off with a hoarse voice.

“No. Wally.” Silence dropped between them like a live grenade. Jason stared at his mouth slightly open. He knew his brother was close to Wally. He didn’t talk about him a lot, but the few times he told Jason stories of the two getting into trouble, he knew. He knew Wally was more than just a friend. Wally was Dick’s other half. “No. He—what do you mean ‘he’s dead’?” 

“I hacked into a secure League archive.” His voice was flat, void of any emotion. It was like when Jason first met him in Nanda Parbat.”It was the only way to track Ivo’s movement since the bastard refused to give me a location. While I was digging. I saw… I saw the memorial wall. His name is there. Along with the date. It’s official.”

Jason moved slowly, like he was approaching a wounded animal. “Wally West?” He didn’t need confirmation. He already knew. Dick gave a shallow nod, his gaze still somewhere far away. “He died during the Reach invasion. Saving the world, apparently.”

He moved to the edge of the bed and sat. His hands were trembling. Jason sat across from him, watching carefully. “I didn’t even feel it. Isn’t that the worst part? I didn’t feel anything. I thought I would if something happened to him.”

“You were still under the Court’s control when it happened.” Jason said he wanted to hug his brother. He never had the urge to hug or be physically affectionate to people. Dick was different. He was his big brother and he was hurting. And Jason couldn’t do anything to help him. The only one who can is dead. “They rewired you. Buried your instincts. That isn’t your fault. It doesn’t mean it didn’t matter.”

Dick let out a bitter laugh. “We promised to have each other’s back. He had mine when the Court was after me.” His lip wobbled. “And now I’m too late to have his.”

Jason hesitated, then leaned forward. A thought crossed his mind. It wasn’t the most stupid idea. “Are you, though?” Dick looked startled.

“You came back from the dead. So did I. Why not Wally?” 

“It’s not the same. The Pit—” 

“I’m not saying toss him in the Lazarus Pit,” Jason cut in, “I’m saying maybe he’s not as gone as you think. Speedsters are weird. Time-travel, speed force, alternate dimensions. There’s always something. They never found his body so what if—”

“What if he was just thrown somewhere else” Dick finished. Dick looked away, jaw clenched. He stood up hastily as he reached for his bag. He pulled out the small tablet. “I stole this from Ivo tonight. The Light were working on some sort of prototype design. Speed-based tech. They wanted to use the speed force as the power source. But…” Dick trailed off as he thought. “If I tweak it, reengineer the tracking algorithm… I might be able to locate any residual energy, dimensional, temporal even from the speed force.” He turned to Jason, his once sad dull eyes now filled with hope.

“I’ll be able to tell what happened to him that day.” Jason nodded slowly, a small smile breaking across his face. “Then maybe that’s your next mission.” 

Dick stared at the digital files in his hands, like they were a lifeline. They gave him hope. To see Wally again. A redemption for the time he failed to be there for Wally. “Jason, if there's even a chance…”

“Then we take it. Together.”

Later, when Jason had finally dozed off on the other bed, Dick sat hunched at the cheap hotel desk, schematic spread around him. The light above him buzzed softly, flickering every few minutes. He didn’t notice. He didn’t need sleep. He was going to stay, until he figured it out. He wasn’t going to rest if there was a way to bring Wally home. Wally would do the same for him. His hands moved on autopilot, tracing old equations, half-remembered designs. Speed force algorithms flowed through his mind making his head ache. He didn’t stop working. Anything to stay busy. Anything to avoid the stillness.

Because in the silence, he kept hearing Wally’s laugh, bright and loud and already fading from his memories.

Chapter Text

The warehouse stank of Gotham as constant sirens screamed through the night sky. The blinds were half-drawn, casting uneven shadows across the peeling wallpaper. The TV played some late-night sitcom reruns at low volume, laugh track echoing hollowly. 

Dick sat hunched at the tiny desk near the window. Athena was sitting on the edge fluffed into a sleeping position. Jason had gotten annoyed with the fact that Dick never named his owl and gave her one himself. She seemed to like the name and would fluff up whenever she was addressed as Athena.

 His face was lit with the blue glow of a half-disassembled piece of stolen speedster tech. His hands moved automatically as he tweaked wires, adjusted dials, lopped the same lines of code over and over again in his head like a mantra. He hadn’t taken a break since they returned to Gotham. 

He heard Jason begin to stir on the bed across the room, mumbling as he stretched, his bones popping in protest. He sat up, his hair up at odd angles. “You’re still at it? Did you even sleep?” His voice was raspy, it always was when he first woke up. Athena hooted (it somehow sounded annoyed)  as the silence was disrupted.

Dick didn’t look away from the circuit board in front of him. “I don’t need sleep. You know this.”

“Dick.” Jason’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant. “It’s been days. You’ve been at that since we got back.”

He knew Jason was only worried about him. He really shouldn’t. The Court has changed his body, he no longer felt the toll of exhaustion. His mind wouldn’t go insane without sleep. He was perfectly fine. “I’m close.” And he was. He was sure of it. 

Jason rose, grabbed a half-empty water bottle from the nightstand, and took a swig. He watched Dick from across the room, brow furrowed. “You know this isn’t healthy.”

Dick scoffed. Nothing about him was healthy. “That’s rich, coming from you.” Jason had worse self destructive behavior. He had seen them through the weeks they spent together after the fall of the Court. Jason ignored the jab. “I’m serious. You’re chasing a ghost”

Dick’s hands paused, his fingers tightening around the screwdriver. “He’s not a ghost.” His voice came out as a whisper.

“Dick—”

“I felt something.” Dick stood abruptly, pushing away from the table. A soft worried coo came from Athena. He paced the length of the room, eyes wild with a simmering desperation. “I saw the data. I heard what Barry said. His body was never recovered. He’s not dead, Jason.”

Jason exhaled, leaning back against the wall. “You think he’s in the Speed Force.”

“It’s the most logical theory. Barry would’ve felt if he traveled in time, and the League has sensors for dimensional travel. The Speed Force is a mystery. Not even Barry knows how it works. I know he’s in there.” Dick stopped pacing and turned to face him. “And I’m going to find him.”

Jason shook his head. He wanted Dick to find him. Even if he was secretly scared Dick would abandon him once he got Wally back. He didn’t want his brother to kill himself while doing it. No matter how many times Dick protests that he can’t die easily, he’s not indestructible. “Even if that’s true, and I'm not saying it is, what do you plan on doing? Walk in there and just… pull him out?

“If I have to” Jason was silent for a long moment. Dick was scaring him. He heard tales of his self-scarficing ways and his lack of self preservation from the team. He would go to the edge of the universe for the people he cares about. “You think he’d even want to come back?”

That hit like a slap. Dick looked away. He never thought of the possibility of Wally wanting to remain in the Speed Force. He had just assumed Wally would come with him as soon as he saw Dick’s face. “I… don’t know” His voice cracked. “But I have to try.” Even if it broke his heart.

Jason looked at him with something like pity. He was sick of seeing those stares. He saw them from Bruce when he first took him in. From Alfred when he wandered the manor’s halls at night after a nasty nightmare. He saw them from the team when he got hit with fear gas on a mission and he spent the whole time screaming and crying. He saw them from Roy when he came to his door after Bruce fired him. From Wally after he had a panic attack on Roy’s couch. 

Now he gets them from Jason. He sees them whenever he mentions a trait from his talonization. When he couldn’t remember something from a story Jason told him. And now, when he was trying to save his best friend. “If you keep chasing dead ends, you’re going to end up just like him.” Dead. Jason didn’t say it. But it was implied.

“No,” Dick said, quieter now. “If I do nothing, then I already am.”

_________________

Dick arrived at the abandoned train yard. It was abandoned along with the old railroads, when newer and safer ones were made. He was originally going to come by himself and sneak out when Jason was asleep. The man had caught him and demanded to join him on his test run. Dick held the prototype in his hands. He finally finished it. The only thing that was left to do was test it.

The train yard was the perfect spot. It was isolated from the rest of Gotham enough that if it backfired no civilians would be harmed. He knew it was off of Batman’s radar, it was on the outskirts of Gotham and most Gotham rogues prefer to work within the city.

No one knew about it.

They entered the train yard. Jason checked the train yard for squatters, Athena flew up onto one of the streetlamps for an aerial view, and Dick set the machine up. The prototype was compact, just larger than a deck of cards. It was fitted into a beat up casing from an old Waynetech comm. A makeshift antenna jutted out the side, crooked but functional. Jason eyed it warily. “Remind me again what we’re looking for?” Jason asked from behind him.

“Frequencies, residual speed force signatures, aberrant EM pulses, anything that doesn’t belong.” Dick made sure to tweak it so it wouldn’t pick up other speedsters other than Wally. It was easy when he knew each speedster emitted their own form of energy. With Bart and Barry being faster than Wally and related, their energy was extremely close. So even if they did appear on the radar, Dick would know it was them. “Right. And how do you know it won’t just explode?” 

Dick turned around to face Jason. He gave him an unamused look. “I don't,” Jason shrugged. “What’s even special about this place anyways.” Dick smiled softly. Dick had already mapped out the possible hotspots within a hundred-mile radius. Places where speedsters had been sighted. Places where Wally might have bled energy if he passed through. Not only was it off of Batman’s radar, it was a place both Dick and Wally would recognize.

“When Wally and I were younger, he would run us here without Bruce’s and Barry’s knowledge and we would train in secret.” He smiled softly at the memory. It was one of the more vivid memories he had. He could remember the way Wally and him would run around, playing tag across the abandoned train carts. Wally always won tag, but Dick always won hide and seek. One night, after they had tired themselves out they sat on top of one of the train carts and stared at the skies.

Dick had taught Wally constellations. They were far out enough from the city that the light pollution didn’t reach the sky. Wally had made him promise to be best friends forever. That they would stick together as they were the original child superheroes. Dick had laughed and promised. Wally taught him how stars were made, and how when they looked at stars, they were looking into the past. 

It was a time before their innocence was ruined through blood and death. Way before the Court turned their eyes on him. They didn’t have to worry about the Light, or the Court. They just had each other. Then Wally lost Dick, and now Dick refused to lose Wally. “Memories. Wally and I used to go here a lot as kids. I’m sure his energy would still be here, even years later.”

Jason only nodded. Dick began scanning. Jason leaned against one of the rusted train carts, the metal creaking loudly against his back. They sat there in silence, as Dick paced the trainyard. Minutes ticked by. Nothing. Jason began wondering how he was going to drag Dick away. He knew the man wouldn’t want to leave until he got a hit. The static hummed from the device, a soft whine growing higher-pitched the longer it was active. Dick adjusted the frequency manually, it was obvious he was getting frustrated.

Still nothing. Jason stepped forward. “You said his energy would still be here. Are you sure this is the right spot.”

“It is.” Dick clenched his teeth. “I triple-checked the readings, it should be enough. It would be ideal to go to where he… he disappeared, but I can’t go there until I can bring him back. I just—” He shook the device, like that would help. He could feel the frustration begin to seep into him. “It’s not calibrated right. I need to refine the search band.”

Jason sighed and stepped closer until his hand could reach Dick’s shoulder. “Dick. You’re not thinking clearly.” He could feel Dick shaking underneath his grip. It only caused his worry to grow.

“I am. I have to be.” He crouched down, setting the device on the ground, opening the casing again. “If I get this wrong, I might never get him out. I need to widen the sweep, maybe recalibrate the—” The device let out a sharp whine. Both men froze. Then.

Beep. Beep. Beep-beep-beep.

The light on the screen turned green as it picked up a trace. He watched the white dot ping across the screen. The Speed Force worked in a weird way. But this confirmed his theory. Wally could move throughout it in relation to the real world. Dick’s breath hitched. “It’s a trace.” He whispered. “He was here, he’s somehow moving through the speed force. Not long ago too.”

Jason moved to his side, looking over his shoulder as he watched the white dot slowly move across the digital map. “How long is ‘not long’?” Dick didn't answer right away. His fingers moved over the display, tracing the dot as if he was tracing Wally’s freckles. “A week. Max”

Dick stood, cradling the device like it was something holy. (In Dick’s mind it was). It managed to create a likely path Wally would take. To someone who didn’t know Wally would see it as sporadic movements. They were places he cherished the most. Barry and Iris’ house, Happy Harbour, Roy’s old apartment, and the Arctic. The place he disappeared. “He always returns to the arctic the most. That’s where we’ll pull him out.”

Jason threw him a helmet as he put on his own, making his way back towards their bike. “Let’s go find your ghost then” 

__________________

When Dick and Jason (and Athena) returned to the warehouse, Dick dove back into work. Now that they had confirmation of Wally being alive and trapped in the speed force they needed a way to get him out. The ideal person to help with this would be Barry. Being the veteran speedster he knew the speed force the best.

Of course, with the small fact of Dick and Jason being ‘dead’ and not wanting to be found. His plan crossed out anything to deal with contacting the League or any superheroes. Luckily he had other ways of getting information. Dick sat cross-legged on the bed, a burner laptop open in front of him, wires snaking out the back into a repurposed signal booster. Jason leaned against the desk nearby, arms folded, one leg bouncing with restless energy. Athena nudged his hand with her beak, begging for scratches. Jason huffed, but began to scratch her anyway. 

“You sure this won't trip anything?” Jason asked. Dick knew he didn’t like this plan. It was the only way to get to Wally though. If he had to, he would contact Barry. But that was a last ditch plan. Dick didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked across the screen, fingered flying over the keys. ‘If it does, we’ll have about sixty seconds to get out before the League tracks our signal.”

Jason raised an eyebrow and huffed. “So. No pressure.” Dick gave him a cheek smile and cooed affirmatively. “Just in case, you might want to pack a go bag if we have to ditch this safehouse.” Jason groaned as he got up and began to grab the important things in the safehouse. It wouldn’t take him long. They didn’t have a lot of possessions. With a single flap of her wings, Athena joined him on his shoulders, she would occasionally beg for more scratches whenever Jason’s hands were free.

Lines of encrypted data scrolled past. Dick bypassed the first firewall with ease. It's been updated since he last was managing the firewalls, whoever was behind it was good. Not better than him. The second wall was tougher, but still no match for Dick. 

They were in. 

Dick’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he pulled up the mission report from the night Wally disappeared. There were hundreds. Each leaguer and team member has to log their own account. He scowled through the mission reports until he found Barry’s report. Half of it was blacked out. An automated response in the Watchtower’s system whenever a mission report was accessed, in case the system was hacked. Everyone had their own unique code to access the full reports, it allowed the system to know who had accessed it and when. He doubted his code still worked. So he just dealt with the black boxes. “Looks like the Reach planted earth destroying bombs across Earth. They got to all of them except for the one in the Arctic. It went chrysalis. They used speedsters to counteract the reaction.” He took in a shaky breath as he continued to read. “Wally wasn’t fast enough, so the chrysalis used him as a conduit for its energy.”

He scrolled further until he found the final entry.

|Status: WALLY WEST — PRESUMED DECEASED

BODY: NOT RECOVERED

CLASSIFICATION: MIA

REPORT CLOSED BY: BARRY ALLEN

Jason moved to his side, leaning in. He dropped the two bags at Dick’s feet. “Presumed, not confirmed.” Dick nodded, clicking deeper. Then he found it, buried in an internal League memo Barry had filed two days after the mission:

| “I felt him. It was like… static. A pulse. It was there, then gone.”

They had investigated the lead Barry gave for three months before they gave up and accepted Wally West was truly gone. The feeling Barry described. Dick had felt it. He felt it while he was a Talon, with no memories and he still felt it. “He felt him. He felt him.”

“What does that even mean?” Jason muttered. “I mean you said you felt him too, does that mean Wally’s reaching out to you guys.”

Dick leaned back as he thought about what Jason said. “Barry’s tuned into the Speed Force. He’s more connected than any of us could understand. That could be why he felt Wally.” Jason hummed. “Doesn’t explain why you feel him.”

Dick ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I was more connected to Wally. I felt him before I even got my memories back. I think…” Dick paused, whispering his next words “ I think he’s been trying to reach out to me since he got trapped.”  He felt like he failed Wally, for taking so long to find him. They sat in silence for a moment, lit only by the flickering blue glow of the screen. 

Finally, Dick spoke. “He’s trapped. He’s been trapped this whole time.” Dick could feel tears stream down his face. “And I failed him.” He exited out of the Watchtower and closed the laptop. He turned towards Jason. “Just like I failed you.

Jason looked at him for a long beat, a mixture of shock and sadness on his face. He pulled Dick into a hug. Athena inched closer into the hug, her warmth strong against Dick’s cheek “You didn’t fail me big bird. You saved me. And we’ll save Wally.” 

____________________

It was later that night when Wally surfaced through his mind again. He was cuddled up next to Jason, crooning and chirping out ‘safe-warm-safe’ whenever Jason stirred from a nightmare. The phrase kept echoing in his head. Trapped.

The word held weight. It was different from dead. It left room for hope, something far more dangerous than his grief. If Dick couldn’t save Wally, he knew it would destroy him.  Dick closed his eyes. He wanted to pretend to sleep, even if unconsciousness will never take him without a cryopod. 

He saw Wally.

Laughing, teasing. 

A spark of orange hair under the summer sun.

Mismatched socks.

Snarky texts at 3 a.m.

That one heated kiss on a rooftop.

Soft hands gripping his wrist, grounding him from a panic attack.

His breath hitched. He opened his eyes again, blinking hard to keep the tears away. If there was even a chance… Even if it would destroy him… “What if…” he said aloud barely a whisper, too soft to wake Jason up. A sleepy chirp from Athena confirmed she was listening. “It’s not about finding a physical trail?” 

He sat up, carefully detangling himself from Jason and the covers. He grabbed the forgotten laptop that sat at the foot of the bed. Just the mere thought caused his heart to quicken. “What if the emotional bond we had… What if that’s still out there. Keeping us attached.” 

It sounded insane. It was insane. But he’d come back from the dead. Jason had too. It would explain why Wally felt like he could feel Wally in his soul, hear him call out to him. He stood, pacing the room with the laptop balanced on one hand. “Speed Force is all energy, right? Motion. Electricity. Frequencies. What if I could match mine to his? Like a tuning fork but with memories and emotions. Something only he and I would share. If I can become an anchor for him, I could pull him out.” 

Behind him, Jason stirred again. This time, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. “You’re talking to yourself. That’s never good.” Dick didn’t turn around. “What if I can get him out using me?

Jason blinked, still half-asleep. “Okay. Creepy. Context?” Dick turned towards him, excitement evident in his eyes. “The Speed Force. If Wally’s trapped in it… then maybe the bond we had—have— it could act like a signal. Emotional resonance. You get it?”

Jason squinted. “I guess. Like the Force?” Dick stared blankly at him. Jason rolled his eyes. “Star Wars. You truly are uncultured.”

“Oh. No. I mean—” Dick shoved a hand through his hair roughly. He tugged at the tangled locks. “Think of it like he’s a song I can still feel even if the radio’s broken. I just need to retune it.” Jason blinked again. “Still sounds like the Force, bro”

Dick rolled his eyes, but the idea was sticking. It fits. Not perfectly but enough to try. “I would be an anchor for Wally. Something for him to hold onto from the outside world.” He sat back down, typing rapidly now, scanning through speed-based tech he’d stolen. He would still need something to access the Speed Force. Dick, himself wouldn’t be enough to access and pull Wally out. Jason leaned over his shoulder, watching. “This is gonna take more than fancy gadgets and a sad playlist, you know.”

“I know”

“Then we need someone who deals in the weird.” Jason hesitated. “What about Constantine?” Dick stiffened. He was surprised Jason knew that name. He only met the man once when Batman required a magic user and Zatara was off-world.

“No.”

“Why not?” Dick huffed. “Because he’ll ask questions. He’ll want names, favors, blood, money. I’m not dragging him into this unless—”

“—Unless he’s the only option,” Jason cut in. “Which he is. You know it.” 

Dick went quiet. His fingers stilled on the keys. Constantine. A walking bad omen. And still… one of the few people who might understand what Dick was talking about. Not to mention he worked solo, he didn’t answer to the League. Still, it was a risk. Contacting Constantine meant surfacing, pinging someone on a network of favors and hellfire and watchful eyes. Bruce might find out. The League. The Team. Zatanna.

It was exposure. But it was also a chance. If he was careful and gave Constantine enough money, it was possible to make the arrangement work. Dick exhaled slowly, a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Alright”  He said finally. “I’ll find him.” 

Jason looked surprised causing Dick to huff out a laugh. “If there’s even a shot at bringing back Wally, I’ll take it.” Jason smirked. “About time.”

“Don’t get smug. This is going to cost us months worth of our savings.”

“I’m always smug. I’ll help you get the money back. I’ve been itching to get back onto the field.” Dick frowned. He didn’t like his little brother going out on contracts. But he wouldn’t stop him. Dick closed the laptop, sealing the thought away for now, but not the fire building in his chest. The ache hadn’t lessened, but it had purpose now.

He stood and walked to the window, watching the rain slide down the glass like veins of light in the dark. Somewhere out there, Wally was still moving, still reaching out to him. He would find him. He turned back towards Jason with a small smile.

“Fine. Do you have any name ideas?” Jason lit up at Dick’s approval and beamed a smile at him.

“I have one in mind.”

Chapter Text

Dick laid on the narrow bed, arms folded beneath his head. His eyes tracing the water stained ceiling. They spidered outward like a map. He shifted, then again, and again, the thin blanket tangling around his legs. Somewhere across the room, Jason’s snoring cut through the silence. He was incredibly loud. Dick groaned into the pillow. Even though he didn’t sleep, he still liked the peaceful silence night brought. “You sound like you swallowed a chainsaw,” He muttered. He knew Jason wouldn’t hear him.

No response. Jason continued sawing logs, oblivious to Dick’s annoyance. Dick sat up, running a hand over his face. The room smelled like old wood, mildew and the faint burn of Jason’s half-doused cigarettes (He hated when Jason smoked). It never bothered him before, but tonight his senses were overwhelmed. He stood, pacing a few steps to the cracked window, with the fire escape. He pushed it open and climbed out. His feet hit the metal grates, groaning underneath his weight. He grabbed the ladder and made his way up to the roof. Their safehouse was a studio apartment on the third floor in the Narrows. It gave them an advantage point and it made it easy to sneak in and out.

He reached the roof within seconds. He sauntered over to the edge and sat down. He felt the breeze on his face. It felt familiar. Not cold, not warm, but specific. That high-altitude bit from standing on a ledge overlooking a city still half-asleep. It didn’t feel like Gotham. It reminded him of Metropolis.

The air shifted around him like a memory. The breeze curled through his hair and for a split second, everything slipped. The world titled. He allowed the memory to take over his senses.

_____________________

The wind tasted different in Metropolis.

It wasn’t bitter like Gotham, wasn’t soaked in smog or secrets. Up here, on the edge of a high-rise rooftop overlooking the bustling roads, the air was cleaner, brighter somehow. It felt like it moved differently too, lighter, more eager to brush past you. Dick sat at the edge, legs dangling into open air, the scratch of rooftop gravel under his heels grounding him more than anything else had that day.

He rubbed at his face, trying to get the feeling of tear stained skin off. Hurtful words still rang in his ears. 

“You’re not ready.”

“You’re being reckless.”

“You don’t understand what’s at stake.”

“No, Bruce, you don’t understand me.” 

His voice had cracked on that last one. He hated that most of all. He had just asked Bruce if he could get more independence. He had been on the team for over a year and been a vigilante for seven years. It hurt when Bruce refused. It made it feel like the man didn’t trust him. He had fought by his side for seven years and the man still didn’t trust him to patrol a portion of the city alone. Bruce yelled at him. So he yelled back. And when Bruce waved him off and told him he was benched for the night he ran. Not to his room, not to the mountain. Just… away. 

He hadn’t even known where he was going until the Zeta tube dropped him into Metropolis. He just needed somewhere Batman wouldn’t follow. He didn’t expect him to show up. He should’ve after all, it's his city.

 “I always forget how loud this city is.” Superman said as he floated down beside him, settling on the rooftop with barely a sound. “You’d think the quiet moments would be easier to find up here.”

Dick didn’t move. “Gotham is much louder.” He said quietly “You spying on me?”

Clark only chuckled as he sat beside Dick. “You’re sitting in the open on the tallest building in midtown. I’d call that inviting.” 

“Tch”

Silence stretched for a minute. It was tense, but not hostile. The kind of quiet that followed someone who wasn’t trying to fix you. He wanted it to last forever. He didn’t want Clark to ask what happened. To have to explain how he ran away like a coward. Nothing good ever lasts though.

“Bruce doesn’t know you’re here.” Clark said finally. Not a question. He already knew.

“Nope.”

"You two fought?” Dick didn’t answer, but that said enough. “I’m guessing he said something he thought would keep you safe, and you said something that hurt more than you meant.”

Dick’s lips thinned. He hated how Clark could read him so easily. Clark took his silence as a yes. After a pause, Clark leaned back on his palms, eyes scanning the skyline. “Did I ever tell you about the myth of Nightwing and Flamebird?”

Dick blinked. “The what?”

“Kryptonian myth,” Clark said with a small smile. “Old as time, almost. Long before our people became obsessed with science and order. It’s about two gods, lovers. They were born of the stars. Nightwing was the protector from the shadows. Flamebird was the destroyer. The fire that brought life.”

Dick stared at him. “... You’re making this up.” Clark raised an eyebrow. “I’m really not.”

Dick looked away, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. So they’re like what, Superman and Superboy?”

“More like… balance. Light and dark, creation and destruction, yin and yang. They’re drawn to each other in every lifetime, always finding one another again.” Dick didn’t respond right away. His fingers picked at the edge of his glove. “Why are you telling me this?” He asked quietly.

Clark was silent for a long moment, he wasn’t thinking on what to say, but rather how to say it. “Because I see someone trying to become something more. But he’s stuck trying to prove he’s not someone else.”

Dick froze. He always compared himself to Bruce. To Batman. Even after failsafe, when he knew he didn’t want to become Batman. A part of him still wanted to become him. To meet his standards. To make him proud. 

“You’re not Batman,” Clark continued, his voice gentler now. “You’re not Bruce. And you never will be. That’s not a failure, Dick. That’s a strength.”

Dick stared out over the city, taking in Clark’s words. “I don’t want to be him,” he said. “But I don’t know who else to be.”

“Anything,” Clark said simply. Dick swallowed hard. His hands curled tighter into the rooftop edge. It was harder when Robin was already associated with Batman. Forever to be known as the partner of the Dark Knight. His light to his dark. “I’ve been thinking of stepping out,” he admitted. “Not… not leaving. Just creating something out of Batman’s shadow. I just— I don’t know how to tell him. Robin isn’t that. I need a new name, a new symbol.”

“Nightwing has a nice ring to it.” Clark offered. Dick’s eyes snapped to him. “The name’s out there. Just waiting for someone to claim it. And I say you got a bit of Nightwing in you.”

There was a beat of stunned silence. Then for the first time that night, Dick laughed. It was short and sharp, but it was real. “You’re giving me your dead culture’s mythology now?”

“Call it cultural exchange.” They sat there for a while. No rush. No pressure. Just the two of them on a rooftop, breathing in the stars.

“Thanks, Uncle Clark.”

Clark chucked softly. “Anytime, kid.”

They didn’t speak after that. There were no grand speeches or dramatic goodbyes. Just silence and the quiet comfort of knowing someone saw you, not just the mask, just you.

Dick remembered how Clark stayed there until the sun started to rise. The horizon bleeds orange and gold across the city skyline. Clark had nodded to him once, then taken off in that smooth, silent way he always did, a streak of red and blue disappearing into the light.

Dick had stayed until the city below began to stir, until he couldn’t pretend to be invisible anymore. And when he Zeta’d back home, Bruce hadn’t been waiting. He left a message, it was short just a— “We’ll talk later.” They never did. Not about what mattered anyway. 

But Dick never forgot that night. That breeze. That name.

Nightwing.

It was like a seed planted in the dark, buried deep beneath anger and grief and confusion. And it took death, resurrection and everything in between to make it grow.

_______________________

Dick’s breath caught as the memory slipped away like sand through his fingers. He was still sitting on the rooftop. The Narrows buzzed faintly below, sirens in the distance, neon lights flickering in the windows, a muffled yell from a few buildings over.

But the rooftop breeze… it was the same.

He blinked once. Twice. His hands were clenched in his lap without him realizing, and a small feathery weight was sitting on his arm. He smiled down at Athena who chirped her concern, tilting her head as if she was asking him “What’s wrong”

He flexed hands, then stood up slowly, wiping his palms on his pants. When he gained most of his memories back, it was within days of meeting Jason. It didn’t hit him slowly like he saw in movies. He was overwhelmed with the memories. Wherever he looked there was a trigger and then he would find himself in the past. 

It had gotten so bad, he began to dissociate. He remembered Jason’s terrified face. He never had to deal with dissociation with someone, let alone a Talon. He thought Dick was dying.

He still had flashbacks. They were better, they were overwhelming. Most of them were about Wally. Simple things. Like playing video games in Wally’s house. Playing rooftop tag whenever they went to each other’s cities. 

Behind him, he heard the window creak open and boots meeting the metal grate of the fire escape. “You okay?” Jason asked, voice scratchy with sleep. (He deserved it from destroying the peace with his snoring). 

“Yeah.” Dick didn’t turn around when he heard Jason padded over beside him. He stood beside Dick looking over the city. They both had called this place home. Dick wondered if Jason still saw it as one. “You’re lying”

Athena jumped from Dick’s arm to Jason’s shoulder to show her argument with him. Dick let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh. Even he wasn’t sure. “Maybe.” Jason squinted at him. “You’re remembering more, huh?”

Dick nodded. “Yeah. Just a moment I had with Clark.” Jason was quiet for a moment. He sat next to Dick with a groan. “You were thinking about him.” Dick froze.

Jason’s tone stayed even. “Wally, right” Dick didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Jason just nodded, looking back out over the city. “You’re different when you think about him. Softer.” Dick closed his eyes briefly. Jason was getting better at reading him everyday. Even better than Dick was at reading himself. “I loved him”

It was true. It felt like a lifetime ago when he confessed his love to Wally on that rooftop. It was a lifetime ago. A life he would never get the privilege of having again. He knew that. Even if he got Wally out, it's been seven years. He lived without Dick for seven years. He moved on. So Dick should too. “I know.”

Silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just the kind that filled spaces too big for words. “I think I want to be Nightwing.” Dick said quietly. “When this is over. I want to go back to being a hero. Make up for all the lives I’ve taken. I want to be Nightwing.”

Jason gave a crooked grin. “Sounds better than ‘Creepy Assassin Guy Number Three.’” Dick rolled his eyes. “Shut up”

“I’m serious. Nightwing fits. It’s got that whole broody-hopeful thing you do.” Jason looked at him for a long beat. “I was thinking of Red Hood. As a name.”

Dick blinked at him. “Like Joker’s old alias.” Jason nodded. “I know, it’s weird, taking the name of my killer.” 

“No, I get it. It shows you don’t fear him anymore. That he didn’t break you that night.” Jason grinned. “Yeah. Nightwing and Red Hood.” Dick’s lips twitched into a smile.

“Crime fighting brothers.” Jason’s grin grew wider. They shared a laugh. Jason’s was loud but short, one loud bark. Dick’s was softer, lighter. The two of them sat on the rooftop until the breeze shifted again, cooler now, brushing the past away like ash. And for the first time in a long time, Dick felt like he wasn’t alone in their twisted version of the afterlife.

Chapter Text

The studio apartment was falling apart. They would have to move soon. People were becoming suspicious of them. It was Gotham so they never asked. It was only a matter of time until one got brave enough to call the cops. The walls were peeling, water damage in one corner and across the ceiling, a shattered window taped over with garbage bags. It was a lost cause anyways.

Dick stood in the center of it, bare-chested and barefoot, cold air seeping in through the cracks. His breath fogged slightly. The heat had busted a few nights ago in the building. It wasn’t enough to shut him down into a cryosleep. Just enough to keep the chill in his bones.

Maps were pinned to the walls, paper curled with humidity and age. Red string connected cities, names, half-remembered faces. A circle of photos on the coffee table depicted everything from shady magical brokers to grainy security footage of John Constantine caught mid-cigarette outside a pub in Dublin. That one was five months old. Useless now. 

He was losing the trail. Again. It had been months since he found a way to pull Wally out of the Speed Force. His only missing piece was John Constantine. The man was harder to find than Dick thought.

Dick exhaled hard, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. When he pulled them away, there smears of ink and black blood on his fingertips. He didn’t remember cutting himself.

“Get it together.” He muttered. His voice was hoarse, he hadn’t spoken in days. He didn’t need to. Athena couldn’t hold a conversation and Jason was away. He said he needed to start building Red Hood’s repetition. He said he would be back. He only visited every few days to make sure Dick wasn’t destroying himself. (Though this was the longest he’s been gone). He felt bad for driving his brother away, but he knew the man was going to leave him eventually. Jason promised to stay in contact and would come if he called.

That’s all that matters to Dick.

He turned away from the table and stalked to the far corner of the room, where his weapons were laid out across the kitchen counter. The daggers were still crusted with ash from the last place he’d blown up, some half-dead occult bar in the bad part of Blüdhaven. He didn’t remember the name. Just the screaming. Just the nothing he’d found after it. His fingers twitched over one of the daggers. Instead of picking it up, he slammed his fist into the wall beside it.

Crack.

Plaster split. A puff of white dust drifted down like snow. He didn’t even flinch. He watched as his busted knuckles bleed down his fist. He watched as the crackled skin stitched itself back together as if nothing had happened. A worried hoot came from Athena as she landed on his shoulder. 

This wasn’t working.

The map told him nothing new. Every source he’d hunted had dried up or burned out. A few had turned to ash at his hands. Constantine was hiding. And he was good at it. 

Dick walked back to the table, picked up the Dublin photo, stared at it for a long silent minute. “Where the hell are you?”

There were shadows under his eyes. Deep ones. It wasn’t the lack of sleep that caused them to form, whether the stress. He could feel Wally’s name under his skin, humming like a wire ready to snap. Everyday that he couldn’t save Wally was another day that the feeling grew stronger in his soul.

A soft clatter broke the silence. One of the thumbtacks had fallen from the wall, A picture slipped free. It was one of Jason, his hood down, standing over a gang leader’s broken form in Gotham. A moment caught on a security feed.

Jason had said they should keep it quiet. Low profile. Work beneath the radar until they had something real. But Dick was done waiting. He waited long enough to reunite with Wally.

He walked over to the fallen photo, picked it up, held it loosely between his fingers. He stared at it a moment longer. 

Then tossed it into the trash.

____________________

The warehouse reeked of gasoline and fear.

Jason leaned against a rusted support beam, arms crossed over his chest, helmet tight against his head. A new development that he finally paid for. A half-circle of Gotham’s mid-tier scum stood in front of him, dealers runners, smugglers and a few men who’d once sworn loyalty to Black Mask. Most of them didn't dare meet the lenses of his helmet.

Smart. The last guy who tried to posture ended up face-first through a brick wall.

“I’m not here to play kingpin,” Jason started calmly, scanning the group. “I’m here to build something better. A better Gotham. And if you’re smart, you’ll stop waiting for Black Mask or Two-Face or whoever the hell you think is coming back. They’re not.”

A few exchange uneasy glances. Jason didn’t miss it. He smiled underneath the mask. “They had their time. Gotham doesn’t need another clown with a mask and an ego. It needs control.”

He tossed a duffel bag at their feet. It landed with a heavy thud. “Fifty grand. Consider it an investment. My investment.” And it was. Dick had offered him some of the money from his contracts, but he refused. Dick had already done too much for Jason. One man finally found his voice. Big guy. Neck tattoos. Thought he could still throw weight around because he used to run the docks.

“And what do we owe you in return?” the man grunted out. Jason stepped forward, slow and deliberate, until they were chest-to-chest. “You keep the kids off the street. You cut your fentanyl supply by half and what you do sell doesn’t go to kids. And if I find out any of you are working with traffickers or using meta kids as muscle, I burn everything you own. Including you.”

The man swallowed hard. Jason could see the fear flowing off of him clearly. Jason didn’t move. “Is that clear?” he asked softly. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the group.

“Good,” Jason said, stepping back. “First drop comes Tuesday. You’ll get clean supplies, protection. And if you screw me—” He didn't finish the sentence. He just quirked his head in a way that made it obvious he was smiling. 

Message received. They left in twos and threes, hushed and tense. Jason watched them go, jaw tight, one hand flexing. He still had pent up anger in him. He just needs one reason to throw a punch. To release some of that tension. When the warehouse was finally empty, he exhaled. 

It was working. Slowly. Painfully. People were fearing him, he was gaining the attention from Black Mask and Batman. They were learning that he meant business. He pulled out his comm, scrolled through an encrypted channel, one he hadn’t touched in a week.

Nothing from Dick. No surprise. He’d heard whispers. Explosions in Blüdhaven. Brutal raids on mage dens. A golden mask that resembled an owl who moved like a ghost and hit like a metahuman. No one could pin it, but Jason knew. It was Dick. And he was spiraling again. It was taking him longer to find Constantine and he knew it was destroying him. He felt bad for leaving him alone often, but he knew what was going to happen once Dick got Wally back. He would be left behind. Again.

Jason scrubbed a hand down his face, glanced toward the Gotham skyline through the warehouse’s busted window. The city looked like it was holding its breath. He knew his brother needed his help. Even if he would end up leaving in the end. 

“Guess I’ll clean up your mess again, Dick” 

_____________________

The neon sign flickered above the warped door: The Crossed Wand. It glowed faintly red, even though the power to the block had been out for hours. Dick kicked the door in anyway. He felt dramatic tonight. The music stopped as several heads turned toward him, a mix of humans, creatures and a warlock. “Where is he?” Dick asked, stepping through the threshold. 

His eyes glowed in the dark, only adding to his intimidating stature. A woman behind the bar stiffened. “Who the hell are you?” She was barely phased, having dealt with creatures that weren’t human. Dick ignored her and marched straight up to the table where a man with iron piercing and glowing blue veins was pretending not to exist.

 “You dealt with Constantine last,” Dick said flatly. He wasn’t messing around tonight. “Six weeks ago. Morocco. Ritual fire theft. You botched it. Where’d he go”

The man didn’t answer fast enough and Dick was on a time crunched. Dick slammed his head into the table. Chairs scraped back in panic. A knife was drawn. Someone started a summoning chant. Dick drew a kunai and threw it across the table at the creature’s head who was casting the spell. It grazed his ear. A warning shot. “Don’t”

Silence rippled outward and they immediately stopped. They remained armed and warily but let Dick remain. The man coughed, blood dripping from his nose. “Said he was going home. Gotham.  He has a flat somewhere in Gotham. ” Dick pressed the man’s head harder into the table. “It’s somewhere near Crime Alley. That’s all I know.”

He released the man and backed away slowly, hands shaking. Not from exhaustion but from restrain. He hadn’t killed anyone. But he wanted to. It wasn’t that he didn’t kill still. The Court had ruined him, forced him to kill. They chose who he killed, people who had wronged the Court. Now he gets to choose. Those who wronged others and Gotham. These people. They didn’t do anything. They didn’t deserve death. And yet he almost gave it to them.

His breathing was shallow now. The Talon instincts were louder than they’d been in days, scratching at the back of his skull like a dying bird. It screamed at him, calling for blood, for death. It wouldn’t stop screaming at him.

He stumbled into the alley, clutching the brick wall to stay upright. Rain was starting to fall, light at first, then in sheets. He needed to stay calm. He didn’t have time for mental breakdowns. Athena fluttered out from her hiding spot, landing on his shoulder. She nudged her beak against his cheek with a worried chirp.

Dick stood there, dripping, eyes closed. Trying to force Wally’s face to the front of his mind to distract the voice that was screaming in his head. Red hair. A bright smile. Freckles. Green eyes. Heart that ran faster than logic. If he lost that image, even if it blurred a little. He wasn’t sure who he’d be. That would be the day he could no longer be redeemed. 

A voice crackled in his earpiece. He always kept it in, even if it's been quiet for days now. “Heard you’ve been busy without me.” came Jason’s voice. He sounded so tired. “I thought we agreed I would come with you on your next lead.” That’s right. Jason. His brother. He wanted to stay updated. To help Dick badly even if he was busy himself. Dick didn’t want to drag him down. To burden him with a mission that wasn’t his. Jason had already looked out for him, and had saved him from the Court’s control. He owed Jason everything. He didn’t need to keep dragging Jason along. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

Dick didn’t answer. He stared at the blood on his glove, flexing his fingers until the knuckles cracked. What would Jason say when he saw him like this? So broken and disheveled. 

Oh Big Bird.

He didn’t want to hear Jason’s disappointment. He wanted to make Jason proud. To appease the voice in his head that told him he was only good as someone’s servant. That he was only useful if he was needed. Jason didn’t need Dick. Dick needed him. He lifted his hand to the earpiece and clicked off the channel.

Talon was still needed. Just not by Jason.

____________________

“You’re looking worse than usual, mate.”

The door to Constantine’s flat barely clicked shut before Dick had a knife to his throat. Constantine didn’t flinch. Just exhaled smoke and looked unimpressed.

“It’s Talon, right?” he drawled, motioning to the blood-streaked armor. “You really ought to get that stitched. You’re leaking on my rug.”

Dick shoved him back against the wall, blade tight under his chin. He could feel anger begin to set in his bones. “Don’t play games. You knew I’d come. You could’ve made it easier.” He wasn’t a fool. He knew Constantine was hiding from him. He was sure word had gotten around to him that someone was hunting him down. “I’m a man of many regrets, but that’s not one of them.”

Dick’s grip tightened.

“Alright, alright— off me,” Constantine muttered, bruising him off with the indifference of someone who’d nearly died twice before breakfast. “You’re spiraling. I can basically smell it on you.” Dick ignored him. 

“I need a way in.” Dick said. “To the Speed Force. A tether. A ritual. A break in the walls. I don’t care how.” Constantine raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

Dick’s jaw locked as he remained silent. His hands shook. “I need to get someone out.” Constantine hummed. “I won’t do it.”

Dick stepped back slightly in shock as he pointed the blade back at Constantine. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand grief,” Constantine snapped. “I understand what it's like to want to crawl into hell for someone and never come back. But I also understand cost, mate” 

He gave Dick a long look. “You’re already halfway dead.”

Dick flinched like he’d been hit. He was dead. He had nothing to lose. He could only gain from this. “Don’t talk to me like you know me” He hissed out.

“I know how you work.” Constantine said softly. “You’re the boy who always tried to be more than what they made you. You think if you can save them, you’ll be redeemed.” He nodded at the Talon mask clipped to Dick’s hip.

“You’re just a knife looking for something to stab.” Dick said nothing. He didn’t have anything to say. To defend himself. Constantine was right. He had spent the past months since his freedom running around throwing himself into fights. “Tell me the truth,” Constantine asked. “Would they even recognize you, the way you are now?”

That broke something. How would Wally react to him now? Would he still see his best friend or just a monster? Would he run the League to turn him in? In a lifetime ago before death and lies drove them apart he wouldn’t have to worry. He wouldn’t have to worry if Wally would stay by his side. He had fought for Dick. He stood face to face with Batman’s wrath just to visit Dick when he was feeling down. Dick never doubted once that Wally would always be by his side. And now he was doubting. 

Dick shoved the knife back into its sheath and stormed toward the door. He paused at the doorway, just for a second. Even though he was scared. Scared of facing Wally’s rejection for what he became. He still wanted to save him. “Would you help me if I said I didn’t care?”

Constantine stared at him. Then slowly, very slowly, nodded. “I’d help you because you do.” 

Dick didn’t say goodbye. He threw a burner phone at him, containing one number on it. “I’ll contact you.” The door slammed behind him hard enough to rattle the walls.

_______________________

The apartment was dark when Dick returned.

Not dark in the way most people meant. No, the kind that pressed in around the edges. Quiet and still. Like the air had decided not to breathe with him.

He slipped inside without bothering to remove his battered armor. His boots were damp. There was dried blood on his knuckles and he couldn’t remember if it was his.

He didn’t expect anyone to be waiting. The light over the stove was on, it warmed the cold apartment. There at the small kitchen table, slouched with a cup of coffee in one hand and a half-solved crossword in the other, was Jason. Athena was perched on the tabletop next to him with a matching disappointed look.

Dick froze. He expected Jason to be mad at him after he blew him off. The man was often short-tempered. It was easy to piss him off. One action was enough to throw him into a tantrum and he would refuse to talk for days. Apparently ghosting his call wasn’t enough. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Jason didn’t even look up. “Maybe if you didn’t turn your comm off you would’ve known.” Dick winced at the words. He wasn't angry. Not fully. He could hear the beginning of anger leak into the words. 

Dick dropped his weapons on the counter with a loud clatter. The clang of metal against tile made Jason flinch. Not from fear, but from memory. Dick let out a soft sorry. He was already making things worse. 

“Get tired of pretending I don’t exist?” The words were bitter and uncalled for. His encounter with Constantine was still fueling him with anger and agitation.

Jason finally looked at him. He looked unphase. He knew the words didn’t come from intentions to hurt. But ones to drive him away.  “Nah. Just figured if I waited long enough, you’d run out of reasons to push me away.”

Silence. Dick ran a hand through his hair, dragging it back from his face. The armor felt heavier than usual. His body ached from fights that happened days ago even though the wounds were already healed. His eyes burned. 

Jason had only been gone for a few days and he was already ruining the relationship between them. He was already trying to push Jason away, when he promised they would stay together. “I don’t need your pity.” It was the only reason Jason would be here. Jason knew he was broken. Dick didn’t understand why he still tried to fix him. Jason snorted. “You think I pity you? Dude, I relate to you. I want to help you. I don’t want to watch you destroy yourself over this.”

For a long minute, the only sound was the humming of the refrigerator and the soft distant traffic below the window. Jason didn’t press him. Didn’t move. Just let him stand there in silence, waiting. He was giving Dick the executive, allowing him to move at his own pace. 

Eventually, Dick exhaled and slumped into the seat across from Jason. Jason slid the second mug across the table. “It’s probably cold now, but I made two. Just in case.”

Dick didn’t drink it. He didn’t deserve the luxury of eating and drinking until he saved Wally. But he didn’t push it away either. Jason smiled at the lack of rejection.

Chapter Text

The sunlight cut through the half-closed blinds in long golden slits, slicing across the dust hanging in the air.

Dick stirred on the couch with a muffled groan, one hand instinctively reaching for his side where his holster usually sat only to realize he was still wearing it. Or rather, half of it. His chestplate was gone, tossed aside at some point during the night. His boots were still on and the bracers on his wrists dug uncomfortably into the crook of his arm where he’d curled in on himself.

Athena perched on the back of the couch, one golden eye blinking slowly, observing him. Her feathers ruffled occasionally as she shifted, apparently unbothered by the mess around them, yet clearly aware of the tension in the room.

His head throbbed faintly, not with pain, but with the familiar kind of ache that came from a heavy, chemically-induced sleep. The kind that clung to his limbs, making them feel heavier than they should be. He was familiar with the feeling. It always came when he woke up from his cryo sleep during his time with the Court. He blinked a few more times, chasing away the last wisps of dreams he couldn’t quite recall, just the vague impressions of endless falling.

He sat up slowly. His spine cracked in protest and the old couch springs groaned beneath him. Dick looked around, frowning as the details of last night began slotting back into place. The busted coffee table in front of him. It was littered with stale takeout containers and papers. And right there, sitting perfectly centered on the table, was the chipped blue mug.

The same one Jason had forced into his hands last night.

Athena hopped down from the couch’s back, landing silently on the table near the mug. Her talons clicked softly against the wood as she cocked her head, peering at the cup as though she too could sense the subtle betrayal hidden within it.

Dick’s breath caught. Right. He remembered coming back, furious and vibrating with too much energy urging him to stab. The rage had followed him home. He was surprised he made it home without incident. He barely even remembered speaking to Jason. He just remembered the look on his brother’s face. He had mistaken it for disappointment last night. But it was worried. Jason was worried about Dick.

He remembered the coffee being cold. Jason had offered to reheat it, but he didn’t see a point if he wasn't going to drink it. He hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t wanted anything, but Jason had shoved it into his hands with the kind of quiet stubbornness that always meant he wasn’t going to argue. “Just drink it,” he said. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week”

He hadn’t. Jason knew he couldn’t sleep. That it was another thing the Court stole from him along with his humanity. Jason wasn’t commenting on how he looked. He was telling him what he needed. A break. A break away from the spiral he was going down while trying to save Wally. Every day, every moment Wally spent in the Speed Force, was a moment that Dick drove himself into his work. He would rest when Wally was free.

He didn’t drink it, not really. He knew Jason wouldn’t leave until he did. So he played along. Just a few sips to make Jason back off. And then—what?

Dick rubbed his eyes, heart beginning to pick up pace. He reached for the mug. Barely half-full. Jason had drugged him. It wasn’t a question. Dick could feel it in the way his limbs still felt heavy, in the way his thoughts were slow and sticky, like they were wading through quicksand.

“Son of a bitch” he muttered under his breath, though there wasn’t much bite in the words. He let his head fall back against the couch cushion. He had missed sleeping. It was one of the things he complained to Jason about the most during their first week of freedom. He always felt envious when Jason would fall asleep beside him, snoring without a care for the world.

He could barely track time anymore. Everything since he found Wally was ‘dead’ had been a blur of movement and action, like if he stopped for even a second, the grief would consume him.

And maybe it had. He couldn’t remember what he’d said to Constantine last night. He could only remember the anger and the familiar blade in his hand. He’d left a mess. Jason must’ve seen it all coming. 

Athena chirped softly, stretching her wings as if to shake the tension from the room, and Dick felt a small, fleeting smile despite himself.

Dick sighed and stared up at the ceiling, the dust in the sunlight swirling above him. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. There was no sound. No sign of Jason. Just the aftertaste of sedatives and coffee on his tongue and the quiet realization that maybe Jason was right to do it.

He hated that. But he was also grateful too. (Though he would never tell Jason that). Athena fluffed her feathers beside him, cooing softly, as if sensing the same conflicted emotions.

He swung his legs off the couch, grimacing as his muscles protested. His armor was stiff and uncomfortable, half-peeled from his body and still crusted with dirt and dried blood. He needed to clean up. He needed to move.

Because now that he was awake, now that the fog was lifting, there was only one thing on his mind again.

Wally.

And no matter how far he spiraled, no matter how much Jason tried to keep him grounded with words and sedatives, he couldn’t stop now. Not until he had him back.

________________________

The sound of the front door creaking open startled Dick mid-motion. He was half-armored again, in the middle of buckling one of his reinforced gauntlets when Jason stepped in, a brown paper bag tucked under one arm and a plastic one swinging from the other. The smell of takeout clung to him.

Athena immediately fluttered to the doorway, landing on the doorframe to greet Jason with a coo, wings slightly spread as if to inspect the food he brought back. Her sharp eyes tracked his movements, assessing him with the kind of precision only a predator could manage.

Jason paused, boots scuffing against the floor. His gaze immediately landed on the suited-up figure by the coffee table. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Dick didn’t flinch. He just kept working the strap. Jason shut the door with more force than necessary. “It’s not even nine in the morning and you’re already playing dress-up?”

“I’m not playing,” Dick said flatly. He didn’t have time to deal with Jason. Jason had already delayed him long enough. He was going to contact Constantine and they were going to save Wally. Today. “I’m leaving”

“Yea, I got that part. The armor kind of gives it away.” Jason set the bags on the counter and began putting the perishable foods away first. “Where the hell are you even going?”

Dick stood, grabbing the utility belt that was sitting on the armrest. Athena hopped down from her perch and landed on Dick’s shoulder, cooing softly, resting her talons against the fabric of his hoodie as though lending him some silent support.  “The Arctic. I’m grabbing Constantine and we’re going to get Wally. I’m not waiting around while he’s stuck there.”

Jason crossed his arms, jaw sight. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when Wally does.” Athena nuzzled Dick’s neck, letting out a soft trill. Dick exhaled, the faint vibration of her wings grounding him, giving him a small sense of balance amidst the spiraling urgency.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself over this!” Dick paused at that, just for a moment, before slinging the belt around his waist. Athena’s wings flared minutely as if correcting his posture, trying to steady him. His fingers moved slower. Jason exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I get it, okay? If I thought someone I love was stuck somewhere, hell, I’d tear down the planet to bring them back.”

“Then don’t stop me.” Dick muttered. Athena pressed her forehead to his chin, chirping sharply. A reprimand.

“I’m not trying to stop you. I’m trying to stop you from killing yourself. You’ve been spiraling for weeks. You don’t rest. You don’t eat. You keep taking jobs you don’t need to. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I’m thinking plenty straight.” Jason pointed toward the couch. “You passed out in half your suit with one boot off.”

“Because you drugged me!”

“I shouldn’t have to!” Athena hissed, not at Jason specifically, but at the rising volume, a warning that Dick was close to slipping. Dick snapped his jaw shut as Jason yelled back. He took in a steady breath, calming himself. “You should've been able to realize I drugged your drink. I shouldn’t have been able to do that to you.”

Jason softened his voice lowering. “I’m worried about you. This—” He pointed at Dick. “This isn’t you, man. This is what they did to you. The Court, grief, all of it. But you’re not Talon anymore. You’re my brother. And I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself.”

Dick swallowed hard at Jason’s words. Athena tucked her head under his jaw, sensing the drop in his breathing. Dick hadn’t realized it. His only goal these past few weeks was trying to get to Wally. He didn’t want to worry Jason. He hated seeing Jason’s sad eyes. He didn’t want to be the cause of them. 

“Let me come with you.” Jason offered, surprising himself. He wasn’t sure if he could watch Dick break fully if they couldn’t save Wally. Athena perked up at that, she always reacted when someone suggested staying together. “We do this together. You and me. I already texted Constantine this morning. He agreed to meet us tonight. Wally can wait till tonight.”

“Wally has been waiting. For two years!” Jason nodded. “Then he can wait a couple of hours. He won’t be mad.” 

Dick wanted to argue. To drag his brother out of their apartment and to the Arctic. But something in Jason’s words, in his brother's words, was like a blade cutting through fog. “Okay.”

Jason nodded again, with a smile. “Okay.”

Jason gestured toward the bags. “I brought breakfast. Real food. It’s not drugged this time. You eat, you breathe, you shower. Then we go meet the wizard. Together.”

Dick hesitated. Athena tapped her beak gently against his temple, urging him. Then with a tired sigh, he kicked off his boots and slumped back onto the couch. Jason smirked faintly. “Good. Because I wasn’t afraid to tie you down to keep you here.”

Dick laughed. It wasn’t like his famous cackles. It was soft and it sounded broken. But it was real. Athena preened his cheek proudly.

It was hours later, when the sun began to set. The apartment was quiet. For once, Jason didn’t fill the silence with music or the television. He just stood in the kitchen, rinsing out the two mugs they’d left from earlier. He was trying to give Dick the space he needed to sit with his thoughts.

Dick was curled in the far corner of the couch again, feet tucked under him like a kid, hoodie pulled over his fresh clothes. Athena was nestled into his hood this time, preening his damp hair. She kept glancing at him, quick, sharp little checks, like she was monitoring his pulse through instinct alone. He hadn’t spoken since getting out of the shower. Jason guessed he was still salty at being forced to stay behind. But he didn’t care. Dick fucking reeked. Jason watched him from the kitchen, towel in hand. “You look like you’re trying to disappear into the couch” Jason said finally.

Dick didn’t respond at first. Then, quietly, “Maybe I am.” Athena flattened her body against his neck, protective.

Jason didn’t smile or joke. He just crossed the room and sat on the other side of the couch. ‘You’re not fine”

Dick scoffed. “Yeah. No shit.” Jason nodded slowly. At least he was finally admitting that he wasn’t okay. “You don’t have to keep doing this alone, you know. I want to help you.”

Dick looked up then. His eyes were glassy. Not from crying but from exhaustion. No matter how many times Dick liked to claim he could no longer feel the normal toll of exhaustion on his body, it still affected his mind. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

There it was. The real truth under everything. Dick wasn’t showing that he was angry, or destructive, or cold but that he was scared. That he didn’t know how to exist without running headfirst into the next mission, the next fight. Even before he became a Talon, that’s all he knew how to do. Fight. Jason leaned back into the cushion, kicking his feet up on the busted coffee table. “You ever think maybe you keep chasing ghosts because you’re scared of what’ll happen if you stop?”

Dick tense. Jason didn’t push, just let the question hang there. He would sit in silence forever for Dick if it made him feel better. “If I stop… he stays gone.”

Jason didn’t know what happened between Dick and Wally before Dick died. He knew it was serious. The way grief would fill Wally’s eyes whenever he saw Jason in the Robin costume and how Dick refused to give up on Wally said everything. When Dick first told him he loved Wally, he wasn’t surprised. The love Dick had for Wally was obvious. He knew Dick would kill himself if it meant Wally would be back. And that scared Jason. He didn’t want to lose his brother when he just got him. “He’s not gone. Not if you still feel him.”

Dick closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch. Athena pressed herself to his throat, sensing the dip in his breathing pattern.“I just… I hear his laugh sometimes. Or I’ll see his smile. And it kills me. Wally was my everything back then. When Bruce fired me, Wally stayed by my side.”

Jason stared down at his gloves. He rubbed his thumb over the knuckle of one silent. He hadn’t known Bruce fired Dick. Having abandoned him and failed him as a father so much, he felt like he had only one person to turn to. “Now you got me. I’ll stay by your side. No matter what.”

Dick’s eyes snapped open. He squirmed in his spot as he debated his options. “Spit it out bird brain.”

“Can I hug you?” Jason groaned, but held his hands out as an invite. Dick tended to hug like an octopus, but his hugs were still some of the best he had. He would never admit it, but he looks forward to the moments when Dick asks for a hug. Dick lunged into Jason’s arms and immediately wrapped himself around Jason. Jason could hear the chirping and cooing from Dick as he stuffed his face into Jason’s hair. Athena slid down onto his shoulder so she could be included, tucking herself against both brothers. Jason let out a soft chuckle.

 “I love you, little wing.” Jason only grunted back, but Dick knew not to take it personally. When Jason’s hands squeezed tightly against his torso, he knew Jason loved him back. 

“Okay.” Jason pulled away from the hug and Dick immediately missed the heat. “We got to meet up with Constantine in an hour. We go together, but only if you promise me something first.”

Dick nodded eagerly, excited to leave to finally get Wally. “No more running yourself into the ground. You wait for me, and we do this together. And no dying. That’s the deal.”

Dick hesitated, but nodded anyway. Jason gave a small, tired smile. “Good.” He stood up from the couch.

“You’re gonna drag her into this too?”

Dick froze.

Athena chirped sharply, almost offended. She fluffed her feathers, wings half-spread, as if insisting she could go, she would go, and anyone who said otherwise could meet her talons. 

During their time with the Court, Athena only joined missions that were important, ones that required backup. She knew she was Dick’s partner. She let Dick go on his own for a couple missions but now she was growing restless.

But Dick inhaled slowly.

“Not this time,” he said quietly.

Athena made a distressed clicking sound, hopping onto his forearm and pressing her forehead against his wrist, refusing to accept the answer.

Dick swallowed, voice softening. “It’s too dangerous. I can’t risk you getting hurt.”

She let out a long, low coo, upset and mournful.

Jason looked between them, his expression unexpectedly gentle. “Hey… she’ll tear the couch apart if you leave without saying goodbye properly.”

Dick almost smiled.

Almost.

He lifted Athena with both hands, cradling her against his chest. She pressed into him immediately, wings wrapping partway around his torso like she was hugging him. Dick leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Stay,” he whispered.

She tapped her beak softly against his cheek, a gesture she only did when she was afraid for him.

“I’ll come back,” he promised. “With Wally.”

Athena didn’t move for three long seconds.

Then she finally stepped onto the back of the couch, feathers puffed and eyes bright with worry, watching him like she wanted to memorize every inch of him before he left.

Dick exhaled shakily and grabbed his belt.

“Let’s go”

_________________________

The meeting place wasn’t Jason’s first choice. Or Dick’s. But Constantine insisted. Neutral ground, he said. And Constantine’s version of  “neutral” was an abandoned speakeasy across the river in Blüdhaven.

The front door groaned as Jason pushed it open, gun tucked under his jacket and hand on the grip. Dust curled in the air like smoke. The smell of stale whiskey and mildew attacked Jason’s nose. He didn’t see the glamour that was tied to the places like this.

Dick followed silently, he was dressed down in civilian gear. He wore his talon armor underneath his hoodie. With the rumors of The Court emerging was bringing unwanted attention to them, it was better if his golden garments were hidden. He had his hood up, mask tucked in his pocket. He hadn’t said much since they left the apartment. He rarely did these days unless it mattered. (Though he managed to change that recently).  But Jason knew the silence wasn’t because of anger but focus.

There was a hum in the air, it felt magical. Jason felt it like static down his spine. “Feels like a trap.”

“It probably is.” They descended the creaking stairs to the lower level. Candles flickered along the walls in alcoves, lighting their way. Someone had drawn runes in chalk across the floor. Jason didn’t even try to guess what they were for.

Constantine sat at the far end of the room, boots kicked up on a broken table, coats slung over the back of his chair like he owned the whole damn building. A cigarette glowed between his fingers, and he didn’t bother to look up as they entered. “Took your sweet time.”

“Traffic,” Jason said dryly. Dick moved first. He stepped into the circle of candlelight with the kind of silent confidence that made him seem older than he was. “Did you find a way in?”

Constantine blew out smoke. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.” Jason folded his arms. “We didn’t drag our asses out here for a half-assed maybe.”

Constantine gave him a sidelong look. “And I didn’t agree to deal with your prickly attitude. You want results, it takes time.”

Dick’s jaw tightened. “We don’t have time.” 

Constantine flicked ash into an empty beer bottle and finally sat up straight. “Believe me, mate, I know. But the Speed Force isn’t like any other dimension. It’s not just another plane you can portal into with the right blood ritual. It’s alive. It chooses who gets in, and who gets spat out. I need your friend's exact location in it to have the best chance to pull him out.”

Jason leaned forward. “And?” Constantine glanced between them “I’ve got a few leads. Some metaphysical fluctuations that shouldn;t be there unless someone’s been poking holes in the veil. I think he’s bleeding through.”

Dick stepped closer. “So you think he’s trying to get out?”

“I think,” Constantine said, slowly, “he’s trying to be found.” That hit something deep in Dick’s chest. He knew those moments he felt Wally. Heard him. That it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. It was Wally reaching out to him. The whole time the man had been trapped, he was trying to get Dick’s attention. And it took Dick two years to get to him. “So what now?'

“I use your connection to him to find him.” Constantine moved toward a makeshift altar near the bar. He lit a fresh stick of sage with a snap of fingers and waved it over a glowing map. He grabbed Dick’s hand as he continued to wave the sage. One spot on the map began to glow faintly. The Arctic. “Anything significant about that place.” Constantine asked.

Dick swallowed hard. “That’s where he disappeared.” Constantine hummed.

“I’ll open a channel. It’ll be temporary. It won’t let us in fully, but it might be enough to reach out to him.” Constantine said. It was clear he was holding something back.

“What’s the catch?” Jason asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“There’s always a catch,” Constantine said with a grin. “One of you needs to go in tethered. One step outside the veil and the connection snaps. Lost that thread, and you’re floating in the dark with the rest of the dead boys.”

“I’ll do it.” Dick spoke without hesitation. Jason frowned. They literally just had a conversation about going in together.

“What! No way.” Jason tried to bite back on his anger, but some of it still seeped into his words. Dick began to open his mouth to argue but Constantine spoke up. “Whoever has a better connection with him will go in. There will be a higher chance to get him out.” 

Dick turned to Jason with a smug look. “I’ve known Wally since I was ten. I’ll go in.” Jason only huffed out a fine, before turning to Constantine. “When do we go?”

Constantine smiled as he opened a portal beside them.

“Why not now?”

Chapter Text

“Why not now?”

The words had barely left Constantine’s mouth before the room shifted. The portal didn’t open with a crack of light or a flare of magic like Dick expected. It shivered into being, like someone had sliced open reality with a knife. The edges pulsed, the center spiraled inward like the surface of disturbed water, and the air grew cold. The basement of the speakeasy turned into the endless white of the Arctic. A few feet away from them, a storm crackled. Sparks of lightning lighting up the sky every few minutes. Dick knew it wasn’t a normal storm. The flashes of red and gold told him that. 

It was Wally.

Dick pulled his hood closer to his face as the biting cold of Arctic wind hit him. Jason stumbled beside him with a curse. “Couldn’t give us a warning?”

Constantine ignored Jason as he turned towards Dick. “You’re sure about this?” Constantine asked, breaking the tension like a snapped wire. “Because this ain’t some sight-seeing field trip. This is soul-diving into the goddamn Speed Force. The place where time breaks, where meaning eats itself. You go in there wrong and it’ll turn you inside out and spit you back humming in reverse.”

Dick didn’t flinch. He wouldn’t back down now. Not when he’s so close. “I’m going.”

Constantine sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Then you’re gonna need an anchor. Someone rooted. Someone you trust more than you trust yourself.” Jason took a step forward before Dick could speak. “Me.”

“Of course it’s you.” Constantine muttered. “No one else is dumb enough to stand in front of cosmic forces with a chain made of blood and attitude.”

He waved Jason over, not waiting for a retort. He drew a circle eerily familiar to the one in the speakeasy. A curved sigil was drawn in the middle. “Sit. Don’t move, not even if your intestines start vibrating.” 

Jason snorted but obeyed. Constantine turned to Dick and gestured towards his gear. “Take off your weapons. This isn’t that kind of fight.”

Dick’s hands trembled for half a second before he unstrapped his gear. It was in his nature to remain armed. The Court drilled it into him. Batman drilled it into him. He laid each piece down with care. It felt… wrong. He took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. For Wally. He telegraphed his movements, showing that he was ready. That nerves weren’t raking through his entire body.

But Jason could see it in the tremor of his fingers. “You’re not ready for this,” Jason said quietly. 

Dick didn’t look at him. He didn’t want to see his disappointed look. “I’m not waiting another second.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut. Jason didn’t argue. He knew he wouldn’t be able to drag Dick out of it when he was so close. Constantine stepped forward and handed Dick the end of a red thread, the other end going to Jason. Constantine had woven with something that shimmered. “This is your tether. You break this, we lose you”

Dick nodded as he wound it around his wrist and tucked the end into his glove where it pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. “I’ve reinforced the link with blood magic” Constantine added, stepping forward with a dagger. “Just a prick. Standard binding, unless you’re squeamish.”

“I’ve died. I think I had worse.” Dick didn’t flinch as Constantine dragged the blade across his palm. He watched as his own blood dripped onto the rope and sizzled on contact. The wound itself stitching itself back together, the process was much slower than normal. The cold was slowing down his healing factor.

Jason watched him too. His throat felt tight. It wasn't magic. It wasn’t even the danger. It was the look in Dick’s eyes, like this wasn’t a mission. But a penance. Like if this killed him, he’d be fine with that.

Constantine drew another circle and nudged Dick into the center of it. He began to chant. The wind around them began to fill with magic, heating their faces with its unnatural heat. The floor glowed beneath his boots. Gold and red. Just like Wally.

“You’re going to feel like you’re being torn in two.” Constantine warned, his voice strained as he poured power into the ritual. “That’s the Speed Force testing you. It’ll use memories, feelings, guilt, anything to break your tether. You hold onto it. You hold onto him okay?”

Dick turned towards Jason, determination set in his face. He nodded once. “I’ll never let go”

Jason resisted the urge to shift. Jason knew Dick wasn’t just talking about now. His words, his promise, were for that of a lifetime. He was promising to stick with Jason forever. To never let go. The cord between them sparked into being, shifting from a bright red to gold, glowing faintly. “I’ve got you. Whatever happens in there, I’ve got you.”

Dick met his eyes for the first time since they left the safehouse. Really looked at him. It was Jason making a promise himself. To be there for him, even in his darkest times. “Thank you” he said, so softly it was almost a breath.

Jason knew it was for everything. For all the times Jason comforted him, for being there for him. Constantine snapped his fingers and the world bent. 

Dick fell.

Jason watched the tether jerk taut as if Dick had been yanked off a cliff by something invisible and massive. The circle he’d been standing in collapsed inward, the once white ice of the Arctic floor turned to black abyss. Jason exhaled shakily. The cord between them glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Constantine slumped down onto the ground, sweat beading on his forehead. He didn’t even shiver when he hit the snow. “It’s begun.”

Jason didn’t move. He didn’t want to risk ruining this. Risk killing Dick. “How long will it take?”

“Time’s not real where he is,” Constantine muttered, lighting a cigarette with shaking fingers. “Could be minutes here. Could be weeks for him”

Jason stared at the thread, feeling every subtle vibration, every twitch of resistance. “Please come back Dick” He whispered to himself.

___________________

The world flipped. 

Reality folded in on itself like paper soaked in rain. Light cracked open in his skull, a blinding flash of every color and no color at all, roaring in his ears like a tidal wave. Dick didn’t fall so much as rip through space, hurled into something colder than death and brighter than lightning. The tether around his wrist burned like a branned, connecting him to the physical world. To Jason. But it already felt like a million miles away.

A rush hit his face. Voices. Flashes of color. Vibrations. A thousand moments collapsing in on themselves like time had been folded and twisted and soaked in lighting. It wasn’t a tunnel or a world. It was a storm. Sound warped, folding in on itself like metal under pressure. The lights dimmed then exploded into a burst of color that bled out at the edges. For a heartbeat he was nowhere. 

The Speed Force didn’t greet him gently.

It pulled him in like a riptide, like a storm that devoured the concept of up and down. Time lost meaning and space unraveled. His body disintegrated into strands of raw thought and memory. He didn’t land, he just existed, violently.

He floated, or maybe fell (he couldn’t tell), surrounded by a chaos of colors. Reds, yellows and blues pulsed around him. Electricity spidered across the horizon like veins in the sky. Everything buzzed with static, but underneath it was something worse. It felt like drowning in electricity, like trying to breathe underwater while your own memories strangled you.

At first, there was nothing but light, harsh yet colorless. It was everywhere he looked. It had no direction, no gravity, no time. The rules of reality didn’t apply here, and Dick’s brain struggled to parse it, tearing itself apart trying to make order out of chaos.

“Shit” He gasped. Or maybe he thought it. He wasn’t sure sound worked here. The light twisted. Shapes formed in it. Memories. They were fractured and disjointed, but alive. He stumbled through a vortex of himself.

He was Robin. He was flying, falling and laughing. 

And Wally. God. Wally.

They were eleven and thirteen, racing across the rooftops of Central City. Wally’s laughter trailing behind him like a comet tail. Dick could hear his own voice in the echo. “You’re cheating again!”

Then it broke. Time snapped like glass, and the scene bled into another. 

Wally was older now. Sixteen maybe. He was bruised but grinning after a mission. He had a busted lip and a black eye, and he was looking at Dick like he’d just saved the damn world. “You worry too much, Rob”

Another shift.

The Mountain. Late nights and quiet jokes. Bare feet brushing under blankets, while the rest of the team slept around them. The moment before everything broke. Dick knew he had fallen in love with him.

Then the color deepened. The light took on sharp, terrible hues. Crimson and rust and blood. The next memory hit like a car crash. It was Wally, flickering like static, screaming. It wasn’t his memory. It was Wally’s. “Kid!”

Wally’s figure disintegrated into light and wind and agony. He was gone. Dick dropped to his knees. Were they his knees? The ground rippled and screamed beneath him. The Speed Force didn’t just show him these memories. It fed on them, twisted them. Threw them back at him with a knife in their teeth.

More images came, faster now. His death. The Court. His resurrection. The pain, the blood. Jason holding his body together with a hug, as if he let go he would fall apart. (He would). The memories started to fray. Overlap and fade. And then they didn’t feel like his anymore.

Who am I?

The thought wormed in quietly at first. Then louder. He tried to remember his name. Dick Grayson. Robin. Talon. Dean Finch. Night—

No. He’d never been Nightwing. Had he?

The Speed Force buzzed around him like a swarm of bees. It filled his head with static, unmaking him. Every memory, unraveling. Every identity dissolving. His hands flickered, sometimes gloved, sometimes bare. He was a child, then a man, then a corpse. 

Dick screamed. It was all he could do. The sound didn’t echo, it scattered into a thousand sparks. He wasn’t standing anymore. He couldn’t tell if he had legs. Every step forward felt like dragging himself through wet cement laced with glass. And yet, he moved.

The tether. He had to find the tether.

Jason.

Wally.

Something in him refused to let go. Even as his lungs stopped working. Even as his skin peeled away under psychic wind. Even as time itself buckled under his feet, he refused.

He would not lose Wally again.

So he stood. Shaking and blood running from his nose, his ears, his eyes. His heart jackhammering inside a cage made of raw willpower.

He needed Wally.

He had come for him. But the Speed Force didn’t care. It didn’t want to give. It wanted to test him. So the Speed Force lashed out and it used Wally’s voice against him. 

“Why didn’t you save me?” The voice came from behind, and when Dick turned, Wally stood there. Whole and alive, smiling like nothing had gone wrong. He reached out, his fingers brushing against Dick’s cheek. “You said you wouldn’t leave me.”

Dick staggered forward, but the image flickered, cracked like a broken screen. Wally’s face twisted into someone unrecognizable. His smile was too sharp, too fake. His eyes were hollow, the once bright green orbs replaced with a black void. “You forgot me.”

“I didn’t—” Dick snarled, pushing though. The wind slicing at his face like razors. “The Court made me forget. I never forgot you though.”

“You let me die, Dick.”

“No” He rasped, barely audible. “You didn’t stop me. You didn’t save me. You let me go. Forgot about me as I died.”

Dick collapsed again, hands over his ears, teeth clenched so hard his jaw threatened to snap. “Stop,” he begged.

The Speed Force didn’t care. It dragged up more. Another Wally appeared. Then another. A kaleidoscope of agony. All of them accusing. All of them echoing with a version of truth Dick had buried in guilt. “Why did you leave me?” “Why didn’t you come back?” “Why did you let me die?”

Dick shook his head as sobs escaped his mouth. 

“You loved me” said one Wally, softer, but so much crueler. “But not enough”

That did it. Dick screamed. The Speed Force shattered around him like a broken mirror. Fragments of light and memory slammed into him from every direction. He dropped, convulsing. His vision fractured and his body began to overheat from effort. He felt every cell in his body screaming. 

He was going to die. Again.

Jason’s voice came from somewhere far, far away. “—hold on, Dick, don’t let go—!”

Right. He promised. He wouldn’t let go. He could feel the tether again, burning now and barely holding on. But he didn’t care. He stood again, swaying like a ghost. And then through the storm, he saw it—saw him.

Wally. The real one. Not the echo or a phantom. Not the guilt-ridden hallucination. He was there, flickering in and out, a few meters ahead. Suspended like a firefly caught in amber, skin glowing an off gold, his eyes were wide with pain and confusion. He looked… wrong. Like he’d been pulled inside out and left there too long. But it was him.

Dick staggered forward. Every step took everything in him. His blood ran like fire through his veins. The electrum stung as it tried to fight the force of the Speed Force. His skin peeling in flakes of light. His eyes bled. His bones felt like they were grinding against each other. 

But he kept going.

He reached out. Wally’s eyes met his. 

“...Dick?” It was barely a whisper, more thought than sound. “...You’re not… supposed to be here…”

Dick smiled. “Yeah, well. You’ve always had a way of breaking the rules. I figured it was my turn.” Wally’s face twisted in pain. “It hurts.”

“I know,” Dick whispered, voice catching. He knew. If anything he just went through had said something. Then he knew. “But I’m getting you out. No matter what it takes.”

He wrapped both arms around Wally’s flickering form. The moment he touched him, it was like hugging lighting. Agony slammed into him like a wave. The Speed Force fought him. Screamed at him. Tore at his soul. It would not let Wally go easily.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do anything but hold on. He screamed through clenched teeth, eyes locked on Wally’s “I’ve got you, Wally. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Wally’s expression fractured. Then, slowly, something human crept back into his eyes. “... You came.”

“Always” Dick said, coughing blood. That should be worrying. “Always.”

The tether snapped taut and the world exploded.

_____________________

There was no time in the Speed Force. No beginning, no end. Only movement and stillness, chaos and quiet. A place built on momentum but ruled by memory, fragments of a life Wally could barely remember living. 

Sometimes, he saw his childhood. His mom brushing his hair back with calloused fingers, the tang of metal and lightning in the air the first time he really ran. Sometimes it was him and Barry on rooftops, laughing. Sometimes it was him burning, screaming as the tether between his body and reality frayed to nothing. 

But mostly, it was silent.

He didn’t know how long he’d been here. Didn’t know if he’d really died or if this was just some kind of purgatory reserved for those who outran death but no consequence. 

The longer he stayed, the less he remembered who he was.

He held on to his name, but even that slipped some days. Kid Flash meant nothing here. No yellow suit, no friction. No direction.

The Speed Force wasn’t kind. It didn’t hurt in a physical sense. No broken bones or open wounds. It wore him down like ocean waves against a rock. Constant erosion of memory, identity, emotion.

Every so often, it would tease him.

He’d catch glimpses of people he loved, his mom, Barry, Artemis. Even Dick. A man he didn’t recognize. The person he could’ve grown into if the Court didn’t take that chance away. He’d chase after them, faster than any human had a right to be, and still they slipped through his fingers like smoke. Sometimes they weren’t real at all. Just distortions, hallucinations conjured by his own desperation.

The worst were the echoes.

There would be a flicker and suddenly he was in the Mountain again, standing next to Dick as they argued over something dumb and so important at the time. Another flicker and they were fifteen and sixteen, running through Gotham in the middle of the night, breathless from laughter. Another and he was watching the moment he died, like a spectator to his own end.

Over and over again.

Each cycle stripped something away from him. He stopped running eventually. He learned to wait. Floating in the static between timelines, letting the current carry him wherever it pleased.

Until today. Today was different.

Something buzzed at the edge of his perception, like static pressing in on a broken radio. He didn’t know how long he’d felt it, but it was getting louder. 

Then he heard it. His name. It echoed through the current, faint and full of pain. “...Wally…”

He didn’t believe it at first. The Speed Force loved tricks. It fed off hope and crushed it, and used it to mold him like clay. But the voice brought warmth and he wanted to believe it was real. He turned around. It was like breaking through concrete. His body remembered pain, phantom aches, old scars, but it moved regardless. His legs were heavier than they should’ve been. Everything around him distorted, turning into streaks of red,gold, and electric while twisting like veins across a stormy sky.

He blinked. For a moment, he saw him.

Dick. He was bloodied and pale. His face strained with effort and pain. He was reaching for him. Then it was gone. Swallowed by the current.

“No,” Wally whispered, stumbling forward. “No, no, no. Come back.” He couldn’t lose him again. He wanted to hug Dick, to feel that he was real and not just another trick.

The Speed Force roared in protest, time itself warping around him. It didn’t want him to go. The current snapped against him like a whip, tearing through his thoughts. It showed him Dick’s death, his blood pooling across the ground. Showed him Barry crumbling into lightning. Showed him his mom staring into his empty grave.

“You don’t exist” It hissed in a thousand voices. Ones he recognized and ones he never heard before. “You died. You were meant to die.”

Wally gritted his teeth and ran. He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t care. The current bent to stop him, twisted time back on itself. One step forward threw him into another memory. His dad hitting the kitchen table, Dick’s arms around him after a nightmare, his rooftop kiss with Dick, Bruce’s gutted cry as Dick’s throat was slashed.

He kept running. “I’m here!” he screamed, unsure if he was speaking aloud or just thinking too hard. “I’m trying!”

Then the Speed Force hit back. A wave of pure static slammed into him, flinging him backwards. He skidded through decades, landing in the memory of his sixteenth birthday. His vision was filled with candles and cake, he could hear Dick yelling at him for burning a hole in the couch.

He staggered to his feet as more images, more pain flooded his mind. Dick’s corpse on the dirt, being dragged away. Bruce being held down by Talons. Zatanna crying. Artemis roars of rage. He clutched his head.

“STOP IT!”

The Speed Force listened. It didn’t go quiet, but it shifted. The current stopped pushing back. Instead it tempted. A soft light appeared ahead. Artemis stood there. Whole. Beautiful. Smiling.

“Come home” She said “It’s not real baby. None of it. Just stay with me. Please.” He wanted to. God he wanted to. He frowned, Artemis didn’t call him baby, not even when they were dating. No this was wrong. It wasn’t real. He looked past her and saw something red streaking toward him.

Dick. He was losing. He was dying.

“No. NO!” Wally stepped forward, ignoring the way Artemis’ face filled with rage. “I’m sorry. But I can’t let him die again.”

She reached for him. He bolted. And the illusion shattered. He ran until there was nothing but color and light, the pressure of a thousand memories tearing at his skin. He screamed. The Speed Force wailed back.

Then Dick was there. 

He was so close now Wally could feel the connection snap into place, like a cord wrapped tight between two souls. Dick looked like hell. He was pale, shaking, and blood leaked down his face. “I’ve got you, Wally. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

Tears welled in Wally’s eyes, as he gripped Dick tighter. God he was actually hugging him. Wally didn’t care if this was another illusion. He had his dead best friend in his arms. That’s all he ever wanted. “...You came.”

“Always.”

Then the Speed Force screamed as the world exploded. 

_____________________

The first thing Dick felt was the snap.

It wasn’t a sound. It was a feeling, a vicious, invisible recoil that tore through his chest like a rubber band stretched past breaking. His fingers, still tangled around Wally’s wrist, spasmed as something deep within him screamed. The tether suddenly frayed like a live wire caught in a lightning storm. He could hear Jason’s voice, Constantine’s chant, the pulse of the mortal plane as it began to slip away.

His grip slipped, not physically, but spiritually. The universe itself was trying to yank him backward, drag him under. “Not yet” he rasped. His voice was lost to the roaring wind of the Speed Force.

Wally’s eyes were wide with terror. “Dick?”

The Speed Force screamed around them, crackling like thunder, ripping at the edges of Dick’s consciousness. It retaliated like a cosmic beast denied its prey. Memories weren’t flickers anymore. They were weapons. Every echo stabbed through his mind with pinpoint precision.

He saw Bruce’s back as he walked away. He saw the Court dragging him to a cryopod. He saw blood, guilt, chains, fire. He saw his own hands, trembling, cracking under pressure, reaching out for help that never came. 

And then Wally slipped. “NO!” Dick howled, lunging forward, but all he caught was air. Wally wasn’t gone. Not yet. Just fading, like the tether between them had thinned to a single fraying thread. Constantine’s spell was working. Jason’s anchor was holding. The exit was open. 

Dick hadn’t realized until now that the Speed Force was keeping score. You don’t get to have both. He knew. Dick knew the exit was open for only one of them. If Dick wanted to get Wally out. To save him like he failed to do so the first time. He would have to take his place.

A boom cracked across the space like divine thunder. The very concept of ground shattered beneath them, fragmenting into lighting and jagged shards of memory. Dick was flung backward, pain roaring through his nerves like wildfire. Reality frayed. Time bent.

_________________

The tether snapped taut. 

Jason stumbled back to stop himself from being pulled out of the ritual circle as it flared an angry, blinding gold. The sigils Constantine had carved into the ice pulsed erratically. The air had shifted, once warm and buzzing with power, now vibrating with something primal. Hostile. The kind of force that didn’t want to let go. 

Jason didn’t need magic to know what was happening. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones.

The Speed Force was retaliating. He was losing his brother.

Constantine’s voice cracked, raw from an hour of uninterrupted chanting. Blood was dripping from his nose, soaking into the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. He was holding the very edge of reality open, keeping the channel tethered to Dick’s soul.

But it was fraying.

The tether Jason was holding, once a steady hum, now felt like it was shaking violently in his grip. The cord looked ethereal, half smoke, half thread and the light within it was dimming. Dimming too fast.

“Come on, come on, big bird.” Jason gritted out, anchoring his feet into the snow, and gripping the tether with both hands. “You said you could do this. Don’t make me drag your stubborn ass back.”

The red of the ritual circle turned blue. The chanting grew ragged. Consantines hands trembled as he pushed more of himself into the circle, sweat running in rivers down his spine.

“He’s not coming back” Constantine rasped suddenly, voice tight with strain.”It’s pulling him under. He’s too far in—”

Jason didn’t even think. He roared, anger washing over his body. He yanked on the tether like he could haul Dick back by sheer force of will. “NO. You said this would work. That he could survive this.”

The circle in front of him shifted. The air shimmered, bending like heat on asphalt.

Then—

A pulse. Like a heartbeat. The tether sparked, flared. Then tightened. A second tether appeared, thinner, red-tinged. Jason’s breath hitched. That wasn’t magic. That was Speed Force energy. And it was dragging something back with it.

Two shapes began to form, vague at first, shadows within the glowing circle. One slumped against the other. Jason’s heart lurched as he saw a hand. It was thin and scarred and bloody, but it pressed forward.

It was Wally.

He was pressing Dick through the barrier first. Jason dropped to his knees and reached in, ignoring the burn as the edge of the circle seared his skin. He grabbed Dick by the shoulders and yanked with everything he had.

“Get out of there, you idiot.” he snapped. “I’ve got you!”

But as Dick’s body cleared the circle—limp, bloodied, barely breathing—the tether bucked wildly, like a beast in its death throes. The remaining thread that still connected Dick to Jason snapped.

Only Dick didn’t let go. His fingers clenched, still caught in the space between. The Speed Force surged violently, refusing to release the last piece of him. The portal twisted, warping and Jason saw it.

The Speed Force was trying to drag Dick back. “NO!” Jason lunged again, locking his arms around Dick’s torso just as Dick’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused, but aware enough to recognize what was happening. His lips moved soundlessly. “Don’t”

Jason grit his teeth. “I’m not losing you big bird.”

Inside the circle, Constantine was shaking, one hand pressed against the icy ground, the other held high, dripping magic and blood into the sigils. “He’s stuck” He gasped. “If we don’t sever the connection the Speed Force created, it’ll take him”

Jason looked down at Dick, whose body was now spasming, his once black veins, glowing faintly blue, as if the Speed Force had infused itself into him. He was too far gone to pull himself free.

Then a voice broke through the howling wind of rage. “Dick” It was weak and raspy. Jason’s eyes flew to Wally, who had collapsed just outside the circle. His chest was heaving, skin clammy, but he was awake. Alive. And crawling toward Dick.

“Don’t you dare die on me again,” Wally gasped out, dragging himself forward inch by inch. “Don’t you fucking dare—”

The last of the tether began to shred. Dick let out a choked sound as the Speed Force clamped down. His body began to flicker, like a glitching hologram. Jason screamed, wrapping his arms around Dick tighter. “NOW!”

Constantine slammed his bloody palm to the ground. The ritual circle exploded with light as the portal slammed shut. Everything shattered, sound, light, sensation and was replaced by blinding white and a single scream.

Then. Silence.

Jason hit the ground hard, Dick’s weight heavy in his arms. He blinked through the aftershock, chest heaving as the circle dissolved around them, its magic spent. Constantine bent forward., breathing heavily and with the last of his strength opened a portal. 

The familiar feeling of magic pooled over Jason’s body as the basement of the speakeasy replaced the whiteness of the Arctic. He watched Constantine slumped to the floor on the far side, he fell unconscious as exhaustion overtook him.

“Dick?” Jason rasped. No response. 

“Dick.” Still nothing. He laid Dick down gently, and the full extent of it hit him.

Dick was barely breathing. His chest rose and fell once, twice, then stilled. His skin was pale as death, lips tinged blue. His fingers were raw and bloody. Every muscle was trembling and convulsing. Why wasn’t he healing? 

“Shit” Jason cursed, patting Dick’s face lightly. “Come on man. Stay with me. Don’t do this.” He felt his lip wobble and he resisted the urge to cry. He wouldn’t. He refused to accept this was it for Dick.

Wally crawled over, weak and shaking and dropped beside them. He didn’t look much better. His eyes were sunken in, his complexion was ghost-white and he was unnervedly gaunt. His skin barely clung to his bones as if a breeze could pull it off. But there was life in him. He still breathed and moved. And the second he saw Dick, something inside him snapped.

“No,” he whispered. “No no no—”

He reached out, grabbing Dick’s hand with both of his own. “You promised, remember? You found me. Please I can’t lose you again.” Dick’s eyelids fluttered and Jason stilled. And then, slowly, painfully, Dick spoke. 

“Cold” It was weak and Jason almost didn’t hear it. Realization struck Jason and he felt like an idiot. How could he forget, Dick had made sure it was drilled into his brain. The one weakness to a Talon. The cold. 

“Fuck.” He glanced around the room and found a small fireplace on the other side of the room. He lunged forward, grabbing one of the candles from the alcove and used it to light the wood inside the pit. “Wally hurry and bring him over here.”

Wally didn’t hesitate to grab Dick and carry him over to the fire. (More like half dragged). Jason grabbed more candles from the alcove and surrounded Dick. Jason let out a breath so shaky it nearly dropped him as he watched Dick’s shiver dissipate. He swore under it, dragging Dick into a partial recovery position.

Wally was crying openly now. His forehead pressed to Dick’s shoulder as he whispered, “You did it. You did it man. You came for me.”

“Barely” Jason muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Fucking barely.”

Dick didn’t speak. He couldn’t, he had barely managed to rasp out the single word earlier. But his hand curled faintly around Wally’s. And for a second it was enough. They were all alive. Silence fell again, heavy and thick with grief and relief. The kind of silence only survivors knew.

Constantine groan from the far corner, finally coming to, muttering something incomprehensible about “bloody impossible” and “mad bastards” 

Jason ignored him. All he could do was watch Dick’s wounds slowly begin to heal over. It was much slower than his normal pace, but he was healing. He was alive. For the first time in weeks, maybe months, Jason let himself relax. 

Dick saved Wally. And Jason still had his brother. For the first time he let himself believe: They might actually make it through this.