Title: Day 2
Author: tarotgal
Fandom: DC Universe
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not my characters. I wish they were mine. I definitely don’t get paid for this.
Summary: Bruce and Dick are waiting for Jason, but Jason is MIA.
Notes: Written during my 12 Ficlets in 12 Days in 2022-23 project project for symphonyflute

Nightwing paced back and forth, walking from one side of the rooftop terrace to the other and back again. He did this until he heard a soft grunt. Then he paused and glanced over to where Batman stood still and stoic, legs spread and arms crossed in front of his chest. “Have some patience, Dick. He’ll show up.” 

Nightwing shook his head. “I admit you have a lot more faith in Jason than I do, but if he were coming, wouldn’t he be here by now?” 

“Maybe he was delayed.” 

Nightwing looked around, as if the answer was to be found somewhere on the rooftop. It wasn’t, of course. “Delayed? Delayed with what? With micromanaging one of his vigilante gangs? With stealing your tires again?”

“That’s not fair.” 

“Isn’t it?” He had forgiven, mostly because that was what you did when a family member came back from the dead, but he hadn’t forgotten. His resentment over being replaced as Robin was long over. Those feelings had faded even before he had felt ready to hand over the mantle and the costume. But he couldn’t forget all that Jason had put them through, especially when Jason impersonated him as a dark version of Nightwing. Jason was still selfish and still rough around the edges, still careless, too headstrong, and too independent. “You know I want to believe he can change. More than anything, I want to believe we can all work together to protect Gotham city. But the fact that he isn’t even here doesn’t bode well for it.” 

Batman’s reply to this was stony silence followed, finally, by a quiet refrain of “He’ll show up.” 

With a deep exhale, which sent a puff of warm breath out like a cloud in front of his face in the cold night air, Nightwing resumed pacing again. “Besides,” Nightwing continued with a small smile. “It’s cold up here and pacing keeps me warm.” He didn’t add that it also kept him limber and ready to fight if called to do so. 

But he froze with alarm the moment he heard sirens from the streets down below. All his emotions came rolling in at that moment, the anger and triumph, the doubt and certainty, the worry he’d been wrong and the equally concerning worry he’d been right. He turned to Batman.

With a finger pressed to the side of his cowl so he could more clearly hear the emergency response frequency, Batman listened. Then he seemed to relax a little. “It’s an ambulance, not the police. A man fell off his ladder while hanging Christmas lights. Seems to have a potentially broken leg.” 

“Hanging Christmas decorations in the middle of the night?” 

“Some people have day jobs and have to get all their other work done at night.” 

Nightwing cracked a wider, knowing smile this time at the joke. “Some people?” 

“Some people,” Batman repeated with a small quirk at the corner of his mouth that Dick didn’t fail to notice. 

Once again, Nightwing returned to his pacing back and forth. “Well, some people are going to turn into icicles if they stay up here much longer.” 

“Hey, as someone who has been turned into an icicle, I know that’s not actually a risk here. You’re not a kid anymore. Stop being dramatic.” 

Both of Nightwing’s eyebrows rose, not that those could be seen behind his mask. “Me being dramatic? Oh. that’s rich coming from the Dark Knight of Gotham city who is literally dressed like a giant bat.” 

Batman considered this for a moment then bowed his head in a single nod. “All right, that’s fair. This costume has its benefits, though. This insulated cape Alfred made cuts out the wind and keeps me nice and warm.”

“Okay, first, I’m jealous. And, second, do you think Alfred would make me one?”

“Oh no,” Batman chuckled and shook his head, waving a dismissive hand in front of him. “I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole. I know better than anybody that Alfred does exactly what he wants to do. So if you’d like him to redesign your costume, you’re going to have to put in that request yourself the next time you’re home.”

Home. Nightwing was amazed by how easily he’d used that word. Of course, Wayne Manor had always been Bruce’s home, even when he was living elsewhere. It was always a place Bruce could come back to. And that was what he’d made it for the rest of them, almost without even trying. For Dick, whose childhood had been in the circus, always traveling, Wayne Manor was the one place he’d lived the longest, the place that immediately came to mind when he thought of the word home, even though his apartment was where he lived now. And for Jason, who’d come from a broken household and had spent more time on the streets than with his addict mother, Wayne Manor had meant stability and purpose and family. 

But family was made up of people you were supposed to be able to depend on, wasn’t it? Family were the people who always caught you after you swung from a trapeze, let go, and flipped end over end as you tumbled through the air. Family were the people who saved you when you were tied to a bomb that could take out three square city blocks. Family were not the people who said they’d meet you on a specific rooftop at a specific time of night and then didn’t show up. 

Nightwing paced in near silence for a while, his footfalls quiet on the rooftop, the white roar of each gust of wind drowning out the sounds of cars driving by on the city streets below every so often. Apart from an unfortunate decorating accident, this night seemed quiet and uneventful, though he knew enough to resist that false sense of security. “Why isn’t he here?” coming to a stop at the roof’s edge, peering down at the buildings below, Dick finally asked the question they’d both been asking themselves.

“I don’t know.” 

Nightwing glanced over his shoulder, head cocked in slight disbelief. “Really?”

“You know as much as I do about this, Dick.”  

“Do I?”

“Yes.” That strong, punched word was meant to end the discussion, but Nightwing pushed past it and kept going.

“You received his request. How exactly was it worded? Did he say to meet him here or did he just ask us to be here?” Nightwing scanned the scene below. The history museum was a block to the left. There was a bank three blocks to the right. And a jewelry store sat four blocks straight ahead. True, they were far from Crime Alley, but there was still no shortage of targets within view. Were they meant to just be here to witness? To feel helpless and useless? To watch Jason thwart a crime or, worse, commit one? Or… Nightwing glanced around, hating that his thoughts had drifted to a setup, maybe even a hidden explosive device somewhere that Bruce’s tech had overlooked. 

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’ll ask you to stop. His message said he would meet us here. He gave the address and the time. There was no misunderstanding.” 

It was difficult for Nightwing to tamp down on his feelings of frustration. The chill in the air and the wasted time were one thing, but the feeling that this might be a trap was growing stronger with every passing second. “If that’s the case, then when where is he?” 

“Right here.” 

Both men turned to see Jason approach. He wasn’t wearing his Robin outfit or his dark Nightwing outfit either. He definitely didn’t have on his signature Red Hood costume, but the colors he wore were still black and red. “Sorry I’m late.” 

Nightwing wanted to reply with some petty retort, wanted to complain about the cold and the time and about all he’d been going through mentally. But he held his tongue entirely and merely nodded once in greeting. He didn’t say he accepted the apology, but he had to give the guy credit for starting off with the word ‘sorry.’

“What do you want from us, Jason?” Batman sounded cold and distant, so nothing out of the ordinary, really. 

“I got word that there was going to be a robbery at the museum. The… the fi… fine art… the–” He lifted his arm and hid the lower half of his face in the crook of his elbow. His eyes squeezed tightly shut, and he jerked forward. “IhhShhhhfff! Ihhhh HIHShhooo!” He sniffed hard and wiped his forearm across his nose. “The Sniff! The tip I got mentioned the new Hopper sniff exhibit Sniff!”

The Edward Hopper exhibit had just been installed this week and was set to open tomorrow night during a fancy, blacktie gala. Nightwing imagined Bruce Wayne was already invited, because he was always invited to events like that. So it made sense to want to speak to Batman about this. But why, then, ask to speak to both of them? 

“Is there a specific art piece being targeted? When is the break-in happening? Who’s behind the heist?” Batman asked.

Jason shook his head. “I haven’t sniff been able to fih-figure any of that out yet. I… I hihhhh…” Again, he brought his arm up. And, again, he sneezed into it. “HihhhKUHshuhh! IH-Kshhhhhh!” This time, he sniffled and then coughed before dropping his arm. “I, uh, I could use some help.”

“I’ll say you do.” Nightwing pulled off a glove, marched over, and slapped his hand over Jason’s forehead. The heat coming from it was like a furnace working hard on a cold, dark night like this one. “How long have you been sick?” 

Jason took a step back, looking down at the rooftop. In embarrassment, his cheeks burned as red as his mask had been, as red as his shirt now was. “I mean sniff I could use some help figuring this out. Sniff! All my leads have sniff come up short. I don’t have ahh access to the same… to the suh-same… resour… re…” For a third time, he lifted his arm. But this time, he turned his back on them as the sneezes virtually doubled him over. “Ihhh-HIHShhoo! Ihhsuhh! Ihshhhhh! Kihhchuhh! Ihshooo! Eghhh…” 

Batman pulled a handkerchief from one of the compartments of his utility belt and walked over. Soundless as the night, Jason jumped at the sudden touch of the man’s hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see the offering and hesitated for a moment before snatching it out of the air, turning back around, and furiously blowing his nose. 

“Jason,” Batman said, his voice as deep as ever but calm and comforting in that tone he only reserved for family, for the ones he cared about. “You’re in no condition to do any more investigating tonight.” 

“Buh but the theft… it’s sniff it’s sniff Sniff!” He turned around, rubbing the handkerchief at his nose, trying desperately to compose himself so he could simply finish his thought. But the sneezes were upon him again. “Ihh ihhh IHShffff! Hihshfffffffff!” 

“We’re on the job,” Nightwing said, not having to work as hard to sound comforting, reassuring. Jason turned back to face him. “Batman and I will continue the investigation after we get you home.” 

Jason’s eyes widened slightly, and he shivered, perhaps from cold or perhaps from something else. In a soft voice, he said, “Home?” 

The disbelief in his voice was like a punch to the chest. And before Nightwing could recover from that hit, Batman backed him up. “Yes, of course home. You need to be somewhere warm and safe to recover your health, and the manor has the added bonus of being where Alfred’s chicken soup is.” As if to sweeten the deal even further, he unclipped his cape and, with a swirl, wrapped it around Jason’s shoulders to envelope the man in warmth. 

Nightwing smirked. Bruce would never admit he did it on purpose, but Batman was the very definition of dramatic, no matter what action he was taking. 

“Come on. The Batmobile is parked down in the alley.”

“Sniff! Can I drive it? 

Nightwing had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing out loud at that.

“Don’t press your luck.”