For a week now, Dick was in town, trying to clean up business that he could never seem to wipe clean among his ghosts in this city. For a week, he asked to crash with Tim. He didnāt mind the couch (it was incredibly comfortable), and it was the best way to spend a little casual time with his baby bird, who he missed dearly from all the way in Bludhaven, where Rachel was attending college.
And truthfully, he hadnāt meant to pry, but could anyone really blame him for the concern that rose in his mind when he started noticing the strange bruises? Tim assured him that they were nothing, the purple green marks on his neck, that followed the clean, faded knife scar Jason had left there so many years ago. No, they werenāt choke marks, and they sure as hell werenāt love bites (Dick, shut up!), they were just got in a fight tonight, got caught off-guard, I didnāt see him coming. A whole bunch of nothing that Tim flushed over and scrambled to cover up with his hands then with turtlenecks that didnāt even know Tim owned. Of course Dick started investigating. What other than a bloody lead to become his new obsession?
He started noticing things about other people in his life. Not just anyone, but Jason, who he liked to keep contact with despite the bit of strain in their relationship. After all, who didnāt Jason have strain with, and who other was tangle up in it besides Tim?
It all wove worry through his mind, and the part he didnāt understand was why they both went to such lengths to keep it under wraps when practically anyone who knew anything about the family history, Red Robin, or Red Hood knew already? There would be hours at a time when both Tim and Jason would fall off his radar, after which heād receive replies in short succession from each other, and then Tim would come home tiptoeing when he thought Dick was slumbering on the couch then wrap up in a turtleneck for breakfast the next day.
It was obvious Jason was involved somehow, but Dick had more tact than anyone gave him credit for, and he understood his brothers. Questioning would come off as accusatory if best, and if he didnāt do it right, heād have a mess in his hands. So the only logical solution was to start stalking like the prowler he was.
This was the second night now that heāll be dedicating time to following Red Robin, and the events did not disappoint. The first hour was almost boring, and Red Robin did exactly what he told Dick he would do: watch and observe for a case he was investigating. Dick perched on a parapet behind Red Robin and watched, too. He was almost about to leave when Red Robin started packing and he almost didnāt notice the figure a few buildings ahead, crouched behind the sloped shingle roof, also watching Red Robin. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and a soundless grapple confirmed his suspicion: Red Hood.
So he prowled, hot on the heels of their chase, keeping enough distance to go undetected. However, he didnāt know the happenings in Gotham like the back of his hand anymore. He hadnāt been aware that the Sprang was under construction, and that Red Robin would take the scaffolds while Hood flowed over and left him the only choice he could take to stay undetected, to go around. He lost them and had to resort to pulling up the tracker he quietly slipped into Red Robinās belt a few days ago to find them.
The sight that greeted him shocked him. There was something strange in the tone of Red Robinās words, a throaty quality that didn't sound painful, but it caused alarm in his mind. Without a sound, he flipped down from the fire escape and used the momentum to forcibly haul the bulk of Hood off Red Robin by the nape of his jacket. The tip of an escrima in his other hand was already buzzing with a charge, and he took the beat of surprise to sidestep between his two brothers, back to Red Robin, front to Hood. He even spared another fraction of a second to give a little smile, a little wave, before he slammed the escrima into Hoodās side, below his arm, and followed with a second to his back when he doubled over.
āWhat the hell is happening here?ā Words spoken to Jason, but undoubtedly aimed at Tim as well.
no subject
And truthfully, he hadnāt meant to pry, but could anyone really blame him for the concern that rose in his mind when he started noticing the strange bruises? Tim assured him that they were nothing, the purple green marks on his neck, that followed the clean, faded knife scar Jason had left there so many years ago. No, they werenāt choke marks, and they sure as hell werenāt love bites (Dick, shut up!), they were just got in a fight tonight, got caught off-guard, I didnāt see him coming. A whole bunch of nothing that Tim flushed over and scrambled to cover up with his hands then with turtlenecks that didnāt even know Tim owned. Of course Dick started investigating. What other than a bloody lead to become his new obsession?
He started noticing things about other people in his life. Not just anyone, but Jason, who he liked to keep contact with despite the bit of strain in their relationship. After all, who didnāt Jason have strain with, and who other was tangle up in it besides Tim?
It all wove worry through his mind, and the part he didnāt understand was why they both went to such lengths to keep it under wraps when practically anyone who knew anything about the family history, Red Robin, or Red Hood knew already? There would be hours at a time when both Tim and Jason would fall off his radar, after which heād receive replies in short succession from each other, and then Tim would come home tiptoeing when he thought Dick was slumbering on the couch then wrap up in a turtleneck for breakfast the next day.
It was obvious Jason was involved somehow, but Dick had more tact than anyone gave him credit for, and he understood his brothers. Questioning would come off as accusatory if best, and if he didnāt do it right, heād have a mess in his hands. So the only logical solution was to start stalking like the prowler he was.
This was the second night now that heāll be dedicating time to following Red Robin, and the events did not disappoint. The first hour was almost boring, and Red Robin did exactly what he told Dick he would do: watch and observe for a case he was investigating. Dick perched on a parapet behind Red Robin and watched, too. He was almost about to leave when Red Robin started packing and he almost didnāt notice the figure a few buildings ahead, crouched behind the sloped shingle roof, also watching Red Robin. His eyes narrowed in suspicion and a soundless grapple confirmed his suspicion: Red Hood.
So he prowled, hot on the heels of their chase, keeping enough distance to go undetected. However, he didnāt know the happenings in Gotham like the back of his hand anymore. He hadnāt been aware that the Sprang was under construction, and that Red Robin would take the scaffolds while Hood flowed over and left him the only choice he could take to stay undetected, to go around. He lost them and had to resort to pulling up the tracker he quietly slipped into Red Robinās belt a few days ago to find them.
The sight that greeted him shocked him. There was something strange in the tone of Red Robinās words, a throaty quality that didn't sound painful, but it caused alarm in his mind. Without a sound, he flipped down from the fire escape and used the momentum to forcibly haul the bulk of Hood off Red Robin by the nape of his jacket. The tip of an escrima in his other hand was already buzzing with a charge, and he took the beat of surprise to sidestep between his two brothers, back to Red Robin, front to Hood. He even spared another fraction of a second to give a little smile, a little wave, before he slammed the escrima into Hoodās side, below his arm, and followed with a second to his back when he doubled over.
āWhat the hell is happening here?ā Words spoken to Jason, but undoubtedly aimed at Tim as well.