[There isn't an answering text. Instead, after not nearly enough minutes considering where he'd started from, the sound of a bike pulling up can be heard. He wouldn't usually park so close to the action, but if Dick was calling for evac, he was probably bad enough that he wouldn't want to hobble the few blocks to a more secure spot.
He wasn't in his full uniform, most of his armor and weapons left behind for his would be date, but he had his helmet and his jacket, as well as one of his 45s in a backup thigh rig. It wasn't his usual gun, but it would do.
He was up and off the bike as soon as it was stopped, heading for cover before he started scanned for his idiot brother.]
[He really shouldn't have called Jason for the evac. Not that Dick would've loved to crawl home, but worse than never letting him live it down....he might worry.
He will find things pleasantly on fire, a boat slowly sinking into the harbor, and various unconscious bodies littered about the pier like a beautiful picture. There's a whistle from the back of the building, a little like a bird song. Following it, Jason will find Nightwing wedged up against a wall, legs akimbo, smelling of blood. Still conscious and ready to tell Jason he's fine, though!!]
[On fire was usually more his style than Dick's and Jason smirked a little as he took in the chaos in a glance. It looked like he'd missed a hell of a party. He moved carefully, well aware that he was lacking any of his ballistic protection, but it seemed like the party had in fact come to an end. So, instead, he shifted his focus to finding Nightwing among the rubble.
That little whistle earned a small scoff, but Jason followed it easily, giving a low whistle of his own when he turned the corner and found his brother.]
Damn, birdie. You really need to learn when to call it a night.
[His voice modulator stripped the little bit of amusement from his words, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as he holstered his gun and started feeling for damage.]
[Ah, there he is. Dick's expression brightens when they meet eyes, and he raises a hand in greeting. If Jason pokes him long enough, he'll feel the couple of broken ribs, and what's certainly a stab wound in his abdomen. Dick tries to drag himself to his feet, though--]
Hey, I can only go through so many mid-life crisis without help. Thanks for this, man. I'll get out of your hair soon enough.
How medical do you want to go with this, cause I can go full medical XD Following your cue.
[The broken ribs were mostly standard, but the stab wound was something to be concerned about. Jason frowned as he tried to get a better look at the wound, a hand on Dick's chest to keep him seated as he carefully moved the ruined armor to see.]
Don't worry about it. Where would I be without dragged your ass out of a fire? Now shut up and stop trying to get up so I can see if you're leaking your guts or just bleeding.
not a prob! def won't be too graphic or knowledgeable pfft
[He sighs a little, wobbling where he's half standing, and let's Jason look him over. It isn't too bad, not too deep, but it stretches long around his torso and down]
My kit went down with the ship...and the bike. Just need something to stop all this.
XD No worries! I just don't want to squick you on accident
[So more of a slash than a stab. He can work with that. That meant the red stuff was just the normal red stuff and not anything...deeper. Tucking his shoulder in under Dick's armpit, he hauled the older vigilante up onto his feet, staying a little hunched so that Dick could use him as a crutch.
Honestly, it would be easier just to carry his brother's dumb ass, but that might injure Dick's pride beyond what he could heal from.]
Yeah, I got you. Let's get out of the burning building before hand, though. Smoke inhalation will kill you a lot faster than bleeding out from that scratch. Come on, my bikes just outside...
[But carrying him would have been so much faster. Not to mention much less strain on Jason. Those couple of inches of height he had on the other man were just enough to make being a crutch a true pain in the ass. But if it meant Dick didn't fight him, he'd deal with the side cramp from the awkward position later.]
I mean, you could have at least served food, but it's not terrible. I guess.
[He was smirking under his helmet, getting Dick down and out of the building and helping him to swing a leg over the back of his bike.]
You gunna be able to hold on or should I tie your wrists together?
[he's smiling-- through the pained grimace-- at the rather emotionless helmet, but he knows. he's familiar with the tone, even with the module to mask Jason's voice, and the years they've been apart-- he knows.
there's another pained grunt when he swings that long leg over, but he huffs]
Just because I still have the handcuffs....I can hold on, Jay.
[It was infuriating how easy it was to slip back in to working along side Dick and even Bruce. He'd been trained by them, molded by them. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His piece had been dunked in water and had dried a little funky, but with a little bit of work, the picture was still whole.
It just wasn't a picture that he knew anymore.
Settling himself on the saddle of his bike, he waited for Dick to get a good grip on him before he kicked the beast awake, taking off for his closest safehouse as the blue and red lights of the GCPD rounded the corner.]
[It's almost phenomenal how their pieces still fit to make the whole picture: cut and burned and drowned, when you put it together, they're all still there. Even as they change and move...and die. Is it the city that keeps them? Justice? The threads of family--?
Dick grabs Jason around the waist, not enough to squeeze, but if he keeps saying stuff like that, making him laugh while he's hurting so bad, he'll squeeze!]
[Death didn't change nearly as much as people thought it did. It's what happened afterwards that painted the world in a whole new light.
He drove, keeping the bike level and easy to hold onto for an injured party, keeping to the back alleys and narrow side passages that most people barely even knew existed. But they weren't most people. Gotham was theirs and they were hers and they knew her better than they knew themselves. No one stopped them as he pulled into a half built parking garage, cutting the bike's engine to let them coast easily into a half hidden parking spot.]
Come on, up you go. Almost there, then I can sew you shut.
[The world certainly isn't kind to them these days. But maybe Dick deserves it. Karma for all of it.
Still, he was able to stay conscious for the whole ride, and he's only a little dizzy when they come to a stop. So this is where Jason's laying his head sometimes? He tries not to worry...Jason's grown.]
Alright, alright. Shove the elderly, why don't you.
[He eases his leg from around the bike, wincing only slightly, and takes a gander around the place]
[It really was just a half built parking garage. It looked like the project had been started a few years back, but had stalled in the middle as tended to happen in Jason's neck of the city. Gang activity, permit pulling, lack of funding. Anyone's guess was as good as anyone else's in the Bowery. Jason had parked next to what would have been the elevator shaft, but surely there was no elevator?
There was no roof.
And yet, Jason still hauled the doors open and inside was a car waiting. It even had power, as proven once Jay had keyed in his security codes and the whole thing lit up before the door slid shut and they were lowered down into what had probably been designed as a break room for security. It wasn't a big space, but Jason had a cot shoved into one corner and a makeshift kitchenette in another. Lockers and gear lined the walls and a large table had been set up in the middle.
It was on the table that Jason helped Dick stretch out.]
Hey, you said it. Disarm your suit. I don't want to electrocute myself cutting you out of it if you can't peel it off. When was the last time you ate something? Do I need to worry about you puking on me while I stitch you up?
[He pulled off his helmet mid-question, setting it aside before he shrugged out of his jacket.]
[Dick shouldn't be impressed by this place-- the cot is a Lot-- but he hasn't picked up his jaw even upon being laid on the table. Possibly because his apartment still looks awful and he's lived there awhile, and it still doesn't look this impressive.
Dick stays quiet for a moment, a fond smile tilting the corners of his mouth as Jason asks his questions...and when the helmet comes off, he's immediately reaching over to fluff Jason's hair]
No puking. I ate earlier today. Good to see you, Jaybird.
[He was still shrugging out of the jacket when Dick started to ruffle his curls and for a moment, the gesture just....froze him. Not quite startled, but still off centered enough that it took a moment for his brain to reboot.
Blue tipped gloves catching the edge of the raised scar under the white patch helped that reboot along and Jay was quick to reach up and grab Dick's wrist in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough that Dick's fingers were safely off the only scar from before that actually still kinda hurt.]
I...sorry. It's, uh...a little sensitive.
[He let Dick's wrist go carefully, chewing his lower lip for an awkward moment before he cleared his throat and moved over to the sink to scrub his hands.]
[he'd traced the scar very briefly, felt the texture catch on the fabric of his suit-- he's froze as well, shocked by what he finds....what they continue to find out what Bruce continues to do.
Dick lets his hands settle in his lap for a second. He takes a deep breath, watches his brother's shoulders, that familiar shape of them-- just much broader.
The best he can do is to do as he said-- strip the top half of the suit off, and don't apologize. That'd just make it more awkward, wouldn't it?
The wound in his side is still sluggishly bleeding, curled down to one hip, cutting through various other old scars. His skin is already starting to purple.]
[That lack of apology is appreciated and by the time Dick was out of the top half of his suit and Jason was scrubbed up to his elbows, the awkwardness was starting to ebb. It was kinda nice, that quiet acceptance. It was so very different from the way he and Bruce tended to ramp each other up until one or both of them snapped.
Tossing away the paper towel he'd used to dry off his hands, Jason pulled a rather hefty looking toolbox from inside one of the lockers. It thumped hard against the table when Jason set it down and, when he flipped it open, it was full of medical supplies.]
I've got glue or sutures. Pick your poison. The sutures will leave less of a scar.
[Maybe it's the blood loss, maybe it's the explosions, maybe it's seeing his brother again like this, maybe it's Maybelline?
Dick isn't looking forward to all the fuss and mess, never does, but at least any fear he could have built over needles never got the chance to thrive. He gives a whistle when he spots all the equipment in the box.]
Well we both know I care so much about my looks. [an eyeroll] Whichever one'll have me up on my feet quicker.
[He rolled his eyes, shooting Dick a familiar lopsided smirk before he turned back to his supplies.]
I mean, you said it, not me.
[He set up quickly, pulling on gloves and laying out a sterile field to lay his tools out on before he was gesturing for Dick to lay back down and get comfortable so he could start cleaning out the slash.]
What was this, anyway? A pocket knife? You going soft in your old age?
[There might even be something a little soothing about the motions of getting tools ready. More if it's him on the table, and not one of the others. Those times are precarious, toes-on-the-edge moments.
Dick stretches out further, lets his arms dangle over the edges of the table.]
Me? Soft? I think it was some ceremonial knife, something different. And a couple of distractions.
[It was almost soothing, wasn't it? The hurt of getting patched back together after the night had gone harder then anticipated. All that was missing was Alfred's quiet reassurance and Bruce's tongue lashing.
Or maybe that last part had just been Jason. He'd never been a particularly good Robin, after all.]
That would explain why it was so dull. Is it still an active case or was the fire my clue that it's done?
[He fell easily into the habit of chattering to keep Dick distracted as he waited for the lidocaine to start dulling the edge of the pain as he worked.]
[He wonders when he's going to get Jason's lecture. Just because they've all tried to remove themselves from that shadow at one time or another, doesn't mean it hasn't followed them. The worry for one another certainly hasn't. For better or worse.]
Those guys shouldn't recover from that....for awhile, anyway.
[Dick would be waiting a while. The only thing that Jason might lecture him about was the fact that he waited until he was bleeding and broken before calling someone in. And maybe grill him a bit on how Dick managed to get his phone number.
Though, honestly, that lecture would probably go to Babs before it went anywhere else.]
Hn. Good. If they come back, hit me up. I've always like playing with fire, you know that.
[It was the closest Dick was going to get to a 'be careful and bring backup, idiot'.
He worked quietly and quickly, a lifetime of training and practice in his hands as he sewed up the wound and carefully wiped down the area in betadine before taping a bandage into place. Then it was a matter of helping Dick to sit up so he could wrap his entire torso in a compression bandage to keep his ribs in place and to help stop the knife wound from bleeding through the stitches.]
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For Backendbat
[There isn't an answering text. Instead, after not nearly enough minutes considering where he'd started from, the sound of a bike pulling up can be heard. He wouldn't usually park so close to the action, but if Dick was calling for evac, he was probably bad enough that he wouldn't want to hobble the few blocks to a more secure spot.
He wasn't in his full uniform, most of his armor and weapons left behind for his would be date, but he had his helmet and his jacket, as well as one of his 45s in a backup thigh rig. It wasn't his usual gun, but it would do.
He was up and off the bike as soon as it was stopped, heading for cover before he started scanned for his idiot brother.]
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He will find things pleasantly on fire, a boat slowly sinking into the harbor, and various unconscious bodies littered about the pier like a beautiful picture. There's a whistle from the back of the building, a little like a bird song. Following it, Jason will find Nightwing wedged up against a wall, legs akimbo, smelling of blood. Still conscious and ready to tell Jason he's fine, though!!]
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That little whistle earned a small scoff, but Jason followed it easily, giving a low whistle of his own when he turned the corner and found his brother.]
Damn, birdie. You really need to learn when to call it a night.
[His voice modulator stripped the little bit of amusement from his words, but his hands were surprisingly gentle as he holstered his gun and started feeling for damage.]
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Hey, I can only go through so many mid-life crisis without help. Thanks for this, man. I'll get out of your hair soon enough.
How medical do you want to go with this, cause I can go full medical XD Following your cue.
Don't worry about it. Where would I be without dragged your ass out of a fire? Now shut up and stop trying to get up so I can see if you're leaking your guts or just bleeding.
not a prob! def won't be too graphic or knowledgeable pfft
My kit went down with the ship...and the bike. Just need something to stop all this.
XD No worries! I just don't want to squick you on accident
Honestly, it would be easier just to carry his brother's dumb ass, but that might injure Dick's pride beyond what he could heal from.]
Yeah, I got you. Let's get out of the burning building before hand, though. Smoke inhalation will kill you a lot faster than bleeding out from that scratch. Come on, my bikes just outside...
i appreciate it!!
Groaning softly to himself, he takes a deep breath and readies himself to move]
You can't say I don't take you to nice places these days.
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I mean, you could have at least served food, but it's not terrible. I guess.
[He was smirking under his helmet, getting Dick down and out of the building and helping him to swing a leg over the back of his bike.]
You gunna be able to hold on or should I tie your wrists together?
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[he's smiling-- through the pained grimace-- at the rather emotionless helmet, but he knows. he's familiar with the tone, even with the module to mask Jason's voice, and the years they've been apart-- he knows.
there's another pained grunt when he swings that long leg over, but he huffs]
Just because I still have the handcuffs....I can hold on, Jay.
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It just wasn't a picture that he knew anymore.
Settling himself on the saddle of his bike, he waited for Dick to get a good grip on him before he kicked the beast awake, taking off for his closest safehouse as the blue and red lights of the GCPD rounded the corner.]
Don't even get me started on you and handcuffs!
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family--?Dick grabs Jason around the waist, not enough to squeeze, but if he keeps saying stuff like that, making him laugh while he's hurting so bad, he'll squeeze!]
Don't get started. Just drive, man.
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He drove, keeping the bike level and easy to hold onto for an injured party, keeping to the back alleys and narrow side passages that most people barely even knew existed. But they weren't most people. Gotham was theirs and they were hers and they knew her better than they knew themselves. No one stopped them as he pulled into a half built parking garage, cutting the bike's engine to let them coast easily into a half hidden parking spot.]
Come on, up you go. Almost there, then I can sew you shut.
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Still, he was able to stay conscious for the whole ride, and he's only a little dizzy when they come to a stop. So this is where Jason's laying his head sometimes? He tries not to worry...Jason's grown.]
Alright, alright. Shove the elderly, why don't you.
[He eases his leg from around the bike, wincing only slightly, and takes a gander around the place]
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There was no roof.
And yet, Jason still hauled the doors open and inside was a car waiting. It even had power, as proven once Jay had keyed in his security codes and the whole thing lit up before the door slid shut and they were lowered down into what had probably been designed as a break room for security. It wasn't a big space, but Jason had a cot shoved into one corner and a makeshift kitchenette in another. Lockers and gear lined the walls and a large table had been set up in the middle.
It was on the table that Jason helped Dick stretch out.]
Hey, you said it. Disarm your suit. I don't want to electrocute myself cutting you out of it if you can't peel it off. When was the last time you ate something? Do I need to worry about you puking on me while I stitch you up?
[He pulled off his helmet mid-question, setting it aside before he shrugged out of his jacket.]
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Dick stays quiet for a moment, a fond smile tilting the corners of his mouth as Jason asks his questions...and when the helmet comes off, he's immediately reaching over to fluff Jason's hair]
No puking. I ate earlier today. Good to see you, Jaybird.
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Blue tipped gloves catching the edge of the raised scar under the white patch helped that reboot along and Jay was quick to reach up and grab Dick's wrist in his hand. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough that Dick's fingers were safely off the only scar from before that actually still kinda hurt.]
I...sorry. It's, uh...a little sensitive.
[He let Dick's wrist go carefully, chewing his lower lip for an awkward moment before he cleared his throat and moved over to the sink to scrub his hands.]
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what Bruce continues to do.Dick lets his hands settle in his lap for a second. He takes a deep breath, watches his brother's shoulders, that familiar shape of them-- just much broader.
The best he can do is to do as he said-- strip the top half of the suit off, and don't apologize. That'd just make it more awkward, wouldn't it?
The wound in his side is still sluggishly bleeding, curled down to one hip, cutting through various other old scars. His skin is already starting to purple.]
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Tossing away the paper towel he'd used to dry off his hands, Jason pulled a rather hefty looking toolbox from inside one of the lockers. It thumped hard against the table when Jason set it down and, when he flipped it open, it was full of medical supplies.]
I've got glue or sutures. Pick your poison. The sutures will leave less of a scar.
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Dick isn't looking forward to all the fuss and mess, never does, but at least any fear he could have built over needles never got the chance to thrive. He gives a whistle when he spots all the equipment in the box.]
Well we both know I care so much about my looks. [an eyeroll] Whichever one'll have me up on my feet quicker.
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I mean, you said it, not me.
[He set up quickly, pulling on gloves and laying out a sterile field to lay his tools out on before he was gesturing for Dick to lay back down and get comfortable so he could start cleaning out the slash.]
What was this, anyway? A pocket knife? You going soft in your old age?
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Dick stretches out further, lets his arms dangle over the edges of the table.]
Me? Soft? I think it was some ceremonial knife, something different. And a couple of distractions.
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Or maybe that last part had just been Jason. He'd never been a particularly good Robin, after all.]
That would explain why it was so dull. Is it still an active case or was the fire my clue that it's done?
[He fell easily into the habit of chattering to keep Dick distracted as he waited for the lidocaine to start dulling the edge of the pain as he worked.]
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Those guys shouldn't recover from that....for awhile, anyway.
[a little more hurt to mend the hurt.]
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Though, honestly, that lecture would probably go to Babs before it went anywhere else.]
Hn. Good. If they come back, hit me up. I've always like playing with fire, you know that.
[It was the closest Dick was going to get to a 'be careful and bring backup, idiot'.
He worked quietly and quickly, a lifetime of training and practice in his hands as he sewed up the wound and carefully wiped down the area in betadine before taping a bandage into place. Then it was a matter of helping Dick to sit up so he could wrap his entire torso in a compression bandage to keep his ribs in place and to help stop the knife wound from bleeding through the stitches.]
There we go. You shouldn't die.
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