Fic: A Better Choice part 2
A Better Choice Part 2 (Through A Glass Lightly series)
Fandom: Batman
Continuity: Post-Crisis AU, Umbra Verse
Characters: Jason, Alfred, Dick, mention of the Teen Titans
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Foul Language
Word Count: 4,117
Summary: What should have happened in Batman 426 when Bruce was an ass and Jason found out that Catherine wasn’t his biological mom.
Author’s Notes: This is the result of a brain storming session for a different fic with vespertila . Thank you dragonbat2006 for betaing. You can find Part 1 HERE
It’s the grin. It’s the goddamned grin. That has to be it. Maybe. No, more likely it’s the fact that it’s Grayson that makes Jason see red. Or it could be that Jay’s just focusing on his nose. Even though that irritating smile reaches clear to Grayson’s eyes, making it look like they’re fucking laughing at him, it’s obvious that the former Robin is really not feeling well. Red nose, pale complexion, sweats, sniffles, a dry cough that he’s trying to suppress...
“Why the hell are you here?!” he demands testily, resisting the ridiculous urge to stamp his foot. This just isn’t possible. He made sure to get everything set up beforehand, meaning that he’d planned it when he left so that there wouldn’t be time for anyone to come after him. And Goldie lives in New York, over two hours away. The ride to the airport is only 35 minutes. It’s just not possible!
Yet there he is, grinning at Jason and pretending not to be sick. It’s not only wrong on so many levels, but also a complete pissoff. Whatever, he has a job to do and he’s sure as fuck not going back to the Manor.
“Intercepting you,” the acrobat says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Which it is, but that doesn’t help at all. Nor does Grayson’s ignoring of Jason’s very meaningful glare. What the hell? “Do you take lessons in being this annoying? Or does it just come naturally?” Jason sneers. He knows that it’s the wrong thing to say even before it’s finished coming out.
Goldie’s grin gets bigger. However he ruins the effect by hastily raising his arm and coughing into it.
Jason doesn’t actually wince, but wow. “Why are you ‘intercepting’ me when you clearly should be in bed sucking back chicken soup? Do I hafta tell Alfred on you?”
“Alfred’s the one who called me, kiddo,” Grayson manages after the fit subsides. His grin takes on a sheepish quality. “He was worried. Called me last night. Said that you and Bruce were going at it again. He promised me that he’d make me all the chicken soup I could eat if I came down and talked to you.”
The sapphire blue eyes aren’t smiling now. If anything they look wary. Okay maybe not wary, exactly. Jason just isn’t ready to deal with whatever it is that he is seeing.
“Looks to me like it’s a lot more than that,” the former Robin says shrewdly.
Jason rolls his eyes at that.
Grayson keeps talking. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But I never pegged you as leaving town when things got to weird. Not in civvies.”
It’s obvious to Jason that the man is trying to puzzle this one through. He’s not really in a mood to explain anything, but... “I’ve got a case I’m working,” the teen says cryptically. Maybe he should just shut up and ignore the other speaker, given how interested he seems in anything Jason has to say. Crap.
“Yeah? Cool! I’ll come with!” That was almost a bounce. Double crap. Grayson heads over to the ticket counter and glances back with a smirk. “So, where are we going on Bruce’s dime?”
He sighs. It’s a long and gusty one, because he knows damned well that he’s not winning this one. Not only does Grayson want to be in on a case, but Jason has given him another way to needle Bruce. Well, that is something actually. At least Dick isn’t likely to take Bruce’s side and at this point, that counts for a lot.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moves over to beside his older... brother? Does Grayson really qualify as one, seeing as he was Wayne’s ward? He knows Goldie thinks of them as brothers, of a sort. For his part, Jason isn’t sure what he thinks. No, better not to think about it; he’s got three women to find. Who knows? The guy might actually be useful.
The woman behind the counter is smiling, which is kind of disturbing since she looks like his sourpuss fifth grade teacher. He suppresses a shudder and hands over the gold card. “Two first class tickets to Tel Aviv, Israel,” he informs her. She nods and taps away on her keyboard. It’s not long before she is handing him the boarding passes.
When he doesn’t immediately give one to his chaperone, the asshole swipes it from his grasp. Bloody hell! Why the fuck can’t the jerk act his goddamn age?!
They still have time before they need to board. And there’s no way he’ll get Grayson to stay quiet for long so he might as well make the man’s incessant chatter work for him.
“Start at the beginning. What did Alfred say, and why did you come to the airport?” If nothing else, he can figure out how he fucked up. He begins to regret that question too, as a slow smile spreads over the other’s features.
“Well.... It all started a week ago....”
Jason lets out the exasperated groan.
***
“I am not staying behind!” Dick all but yells at Kory’s retreating back. Of course he has to give chase, ignoring the fact that the effort makes him light-headed. Not only does his team need him, what awaits him if he stays behind is against the Geneva Convention. Or it damned well should be.
“It has been decided, Dick,” the sultry voice tells him in an uncompromising tone. “You are very ill, and as such, the strain of a mission is not a good idea. As well, if you come with us, we shall be worrying about you.” She turns around and he almost collides with that very impressive chest of hers. “Your presence would put the team in danger.” Trust her to appeal to his sense of responsibility to his team-mates.
Lovely arms move around the small of his back, pulling him close. Then warm, oh-so-soft lips are on his, kissing him gently, deeply. Coaxing, claiming-
(“We’re in an airport. Can the soft-core porn.”)
(“Spoilsport.”)
When Dick can think again, he looks up into the beautifully glowing eyes and all he can do is nod. Of course, he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing with or to. All he knows is that he could drown in Kory’s smile and die a happy man.
“Good. Then I shall see you when we return,” she tells him sweetly.
What? Huh?! No, wait... But his cheeks are starting to heat up in the absence of her cool hands, and there is the barest hint of lovely red hair disappearing around the corner. He moves to follow, but admittedly this is not one of his better days. Dick is out of breath by the time he makes it to the hangar, and by then, the hatch is already opening to allow the craft to depart.
All that’s left for him to do is wave good bye to his friends as the sleek shuttle lifts off. Standing there, feeling depressingly helpless and maybe a little dejected, he is reminded of why he didn’t want to be left behind.
“Hey! Why are you out of bed, Dickster?!” the scrawny little redhead demands as he comes nearer. Danny Chase. The team’s telekinetic, and well-meaning pain in the ass. At the moment the kid is moving behind Dick, turning him around and beginning to push him towards the hallway. The fact that the kid can move him about without using his power really says something about Dick’s condition. “Come on. Let’s go tuck you in and I’ll fix you some chicken soup.”
Dick stifles a groan, barely. Sure enough, everything becomes a battle with Danny, who apparently thinks that Dick can’t even go to the bathroom without help, and he really has to draw the line at that one. Dick’s also pretty sure that the teen is unintentionally poisoning him, since until now, he’s never been sick more than three days in his life. He’s still bedridden when Alfred calls at the end of the week.
It’s almost comical how eager he is to talk to the old butler and find out how the family is doing. Apparently not very well. Alfred explains about Jason and Bruce’s latest blow up and Dick bites his lip to refrain from commenting on Bruce’s obvious pattern of behaviour.
He is quick to promise to come down to Gotham, but actually getting out of the Tower proves tricky. How the hell had Danny got access to the surveillance feeds in the bedrooms?! He really doesn’t want to think about what else that might mean for all of them. Gar will go ballistic if he finds out.
It is 5am before he is on his way.
(“You totally fell asleep.”)
(“Shush. I do have duct tape with me.”)
Even though traffic is fairly light, Dick arrives at the manor just as a yellow cab is pulling away from the front gate. He can’t see who is in it, but rather than follow, he decides to check with Alfred. After all, it could be one of Bruce’s dates.
“Hello?” He calls, pushing the large door open. Alfred is in the foyer, dialling the cloisonne telephone, but when he spots Dick a relieved expression crosses his face and he puts the receiver back in its ornate cradle.
“Master Dick, thank you.” The man hurries toward him, a piece of paper in his outstretched hand. “I fear things have grown substantially worse in the hours since I called.”
Taking the paper, Dick glances at the blocky writing. “Discovered some interesting things. Gone to find my mother. Catch you later.” He puzzles over that, his foggy brain not grasping the meaning of the words with its customary ease. Until Alfred hands him a tattered birth certificate, explaining that it had been on the boy’s bed. There is another piece of paper, one with three names on it. Dick pockets both and sighs. The original Robin tries to kick his head into gear.
“Okay, Alfred, I need you to get down to the cave. See if you can run down anything to tell us where he’s going. Call me if you find something,” he says over his shoulder, as he turns to leave the same way he came.
“And where shall you be, sir?” Alfred can’t hide the concern in his voice.
“The taxi that just left was heading west, not south, so I’m betting he’s on his way to the airport.” He pulls the helmet back on his head. “If you find out differently, let me know.” Then he was out the door and back on his bike, speeding toward Archie Goodwin International, and breaking a half a dozen traffic laws in the process.
***
“…Then it was just a matter of waiting for you. All of seventy-four seconds,” he concludes with a smirk as he reclines back in his chair.
A stewardess comes by and asks if they would like anything. Jason almost winces as Goldie begins to flirt with the woman. “Rum and coke,” Jason says, trying to get her attention.
Grayson snorts at that, but the stewardess at least has the class to give him a gentle smile. “First class section or not, you don’t look ripe enough for rum. How about a straight coke instead?” She favours him with a friendly wink so he can’t really feel too disgruntled.
He sighs and nods. “Fine.”
No sooner does she head to the next person than his seat mate is poking at him. “Hey, don’t tell me that you drink as well as smoke!”
“Only when I have someone pestering me,” he grouches. Okay, that’s not true. Alcohol has never held any interest for him, but dork breath doesn’t need to know that.
“Hey, it’s in my contract,” Grayson protests, holding up his hands and grinning. Again. Does he ever stop?
While they really haven’t spent a lot of time together, it’s getting harder and harder to be pissed at the man. Actually, on the whole, Grayson-Dick-has been pretty cool about his talking smack and generally being a punk. He has no idea why the guy would go to the effort, but at the moment he really isn’t inclined to ask. Have to stay on target here. Thankfully, Big Bird seems inclined to let him.
“So why are we going all the way to Israel?” Dick asks after a moment.
“The three women that might be my biological mother are all in the Middle East. So I have to go there.” It feels pretty damn good to make that declaration as it reaffirms his resolve. He’s not quite smiling, but he does settle back a bit more into his chair.
“Yeah, okay.” Dick frowns as if reading more into the words. He pulls something from his pocket. “Maybe I’m being dense, but why not just ask for a new copy?” he asks as he waves the document in Jason’s direction.
With a little annoyed sound, Jason takes it and holds it close. “You idiot,” the teen hisses with an irritated glare, “I left it at the manor so that it would be safe!” The glare turns into a fond look both for the paper and for its precious information. “When Bruce adopted me, he found out that that St. Anthony’s, where I’d been born, burned down ages ago. Most of the documents went with it. And for whatever reason, I guess it wasn’t submitted to the Vital Statistics Office before everything went up in smoke. The Old Man had to grease a lot of palms to get around that glitch.”
Jason glances up from the paper and scowls. The man beside him has a far away and rather pained expression. Oh. Right. Fuck. Dick has all those damned issues about being a ‘ward’ and Jason just rubbed his nose in it. Not that he should care, right? It’s not like he asked Bruce to adopt him or fire Dick or any of it. Still, he feels pretty lousy.
So, he socks Dick in the bicep, hard enough to rock him in his cushy seat. “Hey, it’s so not all it’s cracked up to be. It just gives the idiot more entitlement issues. Count yourself lucky that you got out.”
When the sapphire-blue eyes meet his, they are meant to appear relaxed, maybe even teasing, yet they aren’t even close. “Is that what you’re doing on this plane? Getting out?” Dick frowns at the realization that he isn’t fooling anyone.
“Right now, I’m just looking for my mom,” Jason says firmly. He really hasn’t thought beyond that. For all he knows, she’ll turn out to be a wasted junky or something. Or she could be mom of the year, though if that’s the case, why the hell didn’t she keep him? He tries to shrug it off. That’s a lot easier to do when Dick has a very wet sneeze. “Guh! Gross man, really gross. If you make me sick, I’m so going to...” Damn! He can’t think of a good enough threat.
Dick wipes his nose on a tissue and grins at Jason. “Yeah? Whatcha gonna do?”
An evil smirk spreads across the boy’s face. “I’m going to put muscle liniment on your jock strap,” he promises in a falsely sweet voice.
“You are a nasty little punk,” Dick informs him, just before he turns around to wrap an arm about Jason’s shoulders and pulls him in for a noogie.
“Hey, get off, you jerk!” the teen splutters as he tries to get his arms free. Oh yeah, it’s going to be a very long flight.
***
Well, fucking hell. Okay, fine, line-ups were to be expected, but this is just ridiculous. Five hours?! Seriously. Jason is scowling darkly when they finally make it to the wicket and the dumpy little bureaucrat behind it. It could be that Dick thinks his expression inappropriate since he’s taken that moment to elbow Jason sharply in the ribs. Of course that doesn’t improve the teen’s countenance, although he does try to put on his game face lest he make the pencil pusher wary.
Jason is careful to let Dick do the talking. It’s irritating as hell that the guy can even charm the little toad behinds the desk, but useful just the same. The two get their passports stamped and are quickly on their way.
“Yeesh! Air port security wasn’t half as bad as that. Okay, hurdle two down; where to now, kiddo?” The man’s obvious enthusiasm is somewhat ruined by the fact that he’s just honked his nose into his handkerchief. Again. That thing has to be disgusting by now.
“Computer store. Get a lap top. Then a hotel,” Jason grouches. “What?” He demands indignantly as he notices the way that Dick is looking at him.
“You could have brought one on the flight...” Dick is eyeing him as if wondering about the current Robin’s sanity. Of all the damned... Fuck, the asshole is dense, and Jason doubts it has anything to do with the man’s cold.
“Yeah, I could. And Bruce would likely have six ways to track it and anything I use it for. No fucking thanks.” This is his show, not Bruce’s. No way is he going to let the asshole have any part of this. “And don’t you get any ideas, or you can get your ass back on that flight!” The kid pulls himself up to his full height, which is six inches shy of Dick’s. Damn.
His unwanted companion holds his hands up to ward off Jason’s anger. “Easy, Little Wing. I’m just here to help. And yeah, Bruce probably would trace it. So, computer store it is. But we also need a pharmacy. I’m dying here.” Dick turns a truly pathetic look toward his younger brother.
Jason snorts rudely, but he has to smile. “Fine, fine. We’ll do that too. And food.” The meal on the flight was awhile ago, and he’s ready for something else.
“Oh yes! Food would be good.”
Jason growls and heads out to hail a taxi. Getting one is easy enough and the guy even speaks English. But when Dick decides to show off by speaking Hebrew, Jason can only fold his arms and sit back in his seat. Tel Aviv is a strange place. It’s not anything like Gotham, but it’s also not a desert shanty town. There are skyscrapers along with a different architecture that feels older in a way he can’t really put his finger on.
As Dick babbles to the taxi driver, Jason has to wonder why he’s allowing the man to be part of this. Granted, he didn’t really have a choice back at the airport, nor on the plane. But now that they’ve landed, Jason could easily dodge him. All he’d have to do is out run the idiot, which won’t be hard with the man being sick.
So why hasn’t he done that already? Or at least contemplated it? He doesn’t know. It’s just… It’s not the same, not like when it’s Bruce. Dick is really personable where as the Old Man so isn’t. And while Bruce would be all business, Dick is inclined to enjoy things to the hilt, as well as get the job done. It is a nice change. Plus, Dick isn’t trying to take over. He asks what Jason wants to do, instead of telling him, and that is so bonus. If nothing else, having an extra pair of hands along could come in-heh-handy.
He’s a little surprised when the cab pulls to a stop before a large commercial building. Jason gets out as Dick pays the man in American dollars, giving him a hefty bonus to wait for them. They should probably get some local currency, which would be less likely to cause problems seeing as some places will only take shekels.
Taking his carry-on and suitcase, he heads into the building. It turns out to be just what they were looking for. It’s not like the box electronic stores back home, but there’s nothing wrong with the products on the limited counter space. Jason examines the specs with a practiced eye and then selects the highest-end machine there. The street rat in him is wincing at the price tag, but it’s not like he can’t afford it. He just hands over the gold card.
“Speaking of not wanting Bruce to find us,” Dick hisses at him quietly.
Jason makes a shushing motion. It’s not that the cards are stolen; they have the name of the teen’s false identities on them. Still, there’s no reason to make the proprietor suspicious.
The transaction goes through and he takes the bags that now contain his new computer, software and carry case. They head back to the cab, which is still dutifully waiting for them, with Dick all but bursting at the seams, dying to ask the as yet unspoken question. “When we get to the hotel,” is all he’ll promise. “You needed a pharmacy right?”
Okay, so it’s a transparent attempt to distract him, but Dick is willing to let it slide. For now.
The amount of stuff the guy gets in the way of cold meds is decidedly impressive. He really must be miserable. He sure sounds it for all that he still looks scarily happy. Some part of him wonders if that means anything, but he squelches the thought. He doesn’t have time for sentimental shit. They are here to see his case gets solved. His case. All his.
Yeah, this is a big ‘fuck you’ to Bruce, in more ways than one.
Now that they both have what they need, Jason instructs the cabby to drive them to a good hotel. One that has room service. Jason has a lot he wants to get done, and that won’t happen when they’re off sitting in a restaurant somewhere. Besides, no reason to slum it until they have to. If they have to. Hopefully, this will all be very straightforward.
Who the hell is he kidding? He’s got a spy and a mercenary are on the list!
Jason gets them checked in. Yes, he very much wants a suite with two beds. No way is he letting the walking germ factory over there sleep with him. It’s all going smoothly so far, maybe a little too smoothly. It’s making his skin itch. Of course, Dick is bouncing again in the elevator. Bouncing a lot, for a guy who’s sick.
“What the hell, Dick?” He glares at him.
“Dayquil is lovely, lovely stuff,” Dick gushes.
Jason tries not to cringe. He doesn’t even want to know how much of that stuff the dork has taken.
“So about the cards,” Dick drawls at him, grinning. The opening of the elevator doors isn’t going to save him from having to answer. Fine. He steps out and follows the sign pointing the way toward their room.
“I have some computer skills.” It comes out defensively. Fuck. “Anyhow, he’ll be able to crack it, but he’s going to have to look for it instead of having the computer beeping every time we use one.” And what will it mean if Bruce does make the effort? Will it matter? Yes. Jason doesn’t want him swooping in too soon.
Dick is nodding at him like a demented bobble-head. The sense of world-class wrongness is back. Jason huffs and opens the door. It’s a nice big suite. The beds look good and soft. He puts his bags down on one to go check the sight lines from the window, just in case.
“So, who are we going after first?”
“Sharmin Rosen. She works for the Mossad. That’s the Israeli Secret Service.”
Dick looks thoughtful, although maybe he’s just stoned. “Yeah? Have you tried contacting her through official channels? Seems like the sort of thing to try what with Jason Todd, civilian teenager, being her son and all.”
That one earns him an eyeroll. “That’s what I’m about to do. Doubt it will get anywhere, but we can’t be suiting up till dark anyhow.”
“Awwwww, they grow up so fast,” Dick purrs as he goes for a hair ruffle. Jason is seriously considering hitting him. Maybe mess up that perfect nose of his. “Kay, you get started on that. I’m going to order us dinner.”
Fine, whatever. Hopefully that will keep Dick out of his way for more than five minutes. Time to get to work. He sets up the new computer and starts the process of finding names of contacts whom he might approach regarding the whereabouts of one Ms. Rosen.
End of Part Two
Fandom: Batman
Continuity: Post-Crisis AU, Umbra Verse
Characters: Jason, Alfred, Dick, mention of the Teen Titans
Rating: PG-13?
Warnings: Foul Language
Word Count: 4,117
Summary: What should have happened in Batman 426 when Bruce was an ass and Jason found out that Catherine wasn’t his biological mom.
Author’s Notes: This is the result of a brain storming session for a different fic with vespertila . Thank you dragonbat2006 for betaing. You can find Part 1 HERE
It’s the grin. It’s the goddamned grin. That has to be it. Maybe. No, more likely it’s the fact that it’s Grayson that makes Jason see red. Or it could be that Jay’s just focusing on his nose. Even though that irritating smile reaches clear to Grayson’s eyes, making it look like they’re fucking laughing at him, it’s obvious that the former Robin is really not feeling well. Red nose, pale complexion, sweats, sniffles, a dry cough that he’s trying to suppress...
“Why the hell are you here?!” he demands testily, resisting the ridiculous urge to stamp his foot. This just isn’t possible. He made sure to get everything set up beforehand, meaning that he’d planned it when he left so that there wouldn’t be time for anyone to come after him. And Goldie lives in New York, over two hours away. The ride to the airport is only 35 minutes. It’s just not possible!
Yet there he is, grinning at Jason and pretending not to be sick. It’s not only wrong on so many levels, but also a complete pissoff. Whatever, he has a job to do and he’s sure as fuck not going back to the Manor.
“Intercepting you,” the acrobat says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Which it is, but that doesn’t help at all. Nor does Grayson’s ignoring of Jason’s very meaningful glare. What the hell? “Do you take lessons in being this annoying? Or does it just come naturally?” Jason sneers. He knows that it’s the wrong thing to say even before it’s finished coming out.
Goldie’s grin gets bigger. However he ruins the effect by hastily raising his arm and coughing into it.
Jason doesn’t actually wince, but wow. “Why are you ‘intercepting’ me when you clearly should be in bed sucking back chicken soup? Do I hafta tell Alfred on you?”
“Alfred’s the one who called me, kiddo,” Grayson manages after the fit subsides. His grin takes on a sheepish quality. “He was worried. Called me last night. Said that you and Bruce were going at it again. He promised me that he’d make me all the chicken soup I could eat if I came down and talked to you.”
The sapphire blue eyes aren’t smiling now. If anything they look wary. Okay maybe not wary, exactly. Jason just isn’t ready to deal with whatever it is that he is seeing.
“Looks to me like it’s a lot more than that,” the former Robin says shrewdly.
Jason rolls his eyes at that.
Grayson keeps talking. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. But I never pegged you as leaving town when things got to weird. Not in civvies.”
It’s obvious to Jason that the man is trying to puzzle this one through. He’s not really in a mood to explain anything, but... “I’ve got a case I’m working,” the teen says cryptically. Maybe he should just shut up and ignore the other speaker, given how interested he seems in anything Jason has to say. Crap.
“Yeah? Cool! I’ll come with!” That was almost a bounce. Double crap. Grayson heads over to the ticket counter and glances back with a smirk. “So, where are we going on Bruce’s dime?”
He sighs. It’s a long and gusty one, because he knows damned well that he’s not winning this one. Not only does Grayson want to be in on a case, but Jason has given him another way to needle Bruce. Well, that is something actually. At least Dick isn’t likely to take Bruce’s side and at this point, that counts for a lot.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he moves over to beside his older... brother? Does Grayson really qualify as one, seeing as he was Wayne’s ward? He knows Goldie thinks of them as brothers, of a sort. For his part, Jason isn’t sure what he thinks. No, better not to think about it; he’s got three women to find. Who knows? The guy might actually be useful.
The woman behind the counter is smiling, which is kind of disturbing since she looks like his sourpuss fifth grade teacher. He suppresses a shudder and hands over the gold card. “Two first class tickets to Tel Aviv, Israel,” he informs her. She nods and taps away on her keyboard. It’s not long before she is handing him the boarding passes.
When he doesn’t immediately give one to his chaperone, the asshole swipes it from his grasp. Bloody hell! Why the fuck can’t the jerk act his goddamn age?!
They still have time before they need to board. And there’s no way he’ll get Grayson to stay quiet for long so he might as well make the man’s incessant chatter work for him.
“Start at the beginning. What did Alfred say, and why did you come to the airport?” If nothing else, he can figure out how he fucked up. He begins to regret that question too, as a slow smile spreads over the other’s features.
“Well.... It all started a week ago....”
Jason lets out the exasperated groan.
***
“I am not staying behind!” Dick all but yells at Kory’s retreating back. Of course he has to give chase, ignoring the fact that the effort makes him light-headed. Not only does his team need him, what awaits him if he stays behind is against the Geneva Convention. Or it damned well should be.
“It has been decided, Dick,” the sultry voice tells him in an uncompromising tone. “You are very ill, and as such, the strain of a mission is not a good idea. As well, if you come with us, we shall be worrying about you.” She turns around and he almost collides with that very impressive chest of hers. “Your presence would put the team in danger.” Trust her to appeal to his sense of responsibility to his team-mates.
Lovely arms move around the small of his back, pulling him close. Then warm, oh-so-soft lips are on his, kissing him gently, deeply. Coaxing, claiming-
(“We’re in an airport. Can the soft-core porn.”)
(“Spoilsport.”)
When Dick can think again, he looks up into the beautifully glowing eyes and all he can do is nod. Of course, he’s not entirely sure what he’s agreeing with or to. All he knows is that he could drown in Kory’s smile and die a happy man.
“Good. Then I shall see you when we return,” she tells him sweetly.
What? Huh?! No, wait... But his cheeks are starting to heat up in the absence of her cool hands, and there is the barest hint of lovely red hair disappearing around the corner. He moves to follow, but admittedly this is not one of his better days. Dick is out of breath by the time he makes it to the hangar, and by then, the hatch is already opening to allow the craft to depart.
All that’s left for him to do is wave good bye to his friends as the sleek shuttle lifts off. Standing there, feeling depressingly helpless and maybe a little dejected, he is reminded of why he didn’t want to be left behind.
“Hey! Why are you out of bed, Dickster?!” the scrawny little redhead demands as he comes nearer. Danny Chase. The team’s telekinetic, and well-meaning pain in the ass. At the moment the kid is moving behind Dick, turning him around and beginning to push him towards the hallway. The fact that the kid can move him about without using his power really says something about Dick’s condition. “Come on. Let’s go tuck you in and I’ll fix you some chicken soup.”
Dick stifles a groan, barely. Sure enough, everything becomes a battle with Danny, who apparently thinks that Dick can’t even go to the bathroom without help, and he really has to draw the line at that one. Dick’s also pretty sure that the teen is unintentionally poisoning him, since until now, he’s never been sick more than three days in his life. He’s still bedridden when Alfred calls at the end of the week.
It’s almost comical how eager he is to talk to the old butler and find out how the family is doing. Apparently not very well. Alfred explains about Jason and Bruce’s latest blow up and Dick bites his lip to refrain from commenting on Bruce’s obvious pattern of behaviour.
He is quick to promise to come down to Gotham, but actually getting out of the Tower proves tricky. How the hell had Danny got access to the surveillance feeds in the bedrooms?! He really doesn’t want to think about what else that might mean for all of them. Gar will go ballistic if he finds out.
It is 5am before he is on his way.
(“You totally fell asleep.”)
(“Shush. I do have duct tape with me.”)
Even though traffic is fairly light, Dick arrives at the manor just as a yellow cab is pulling away from the front gate. He can’t see who is in it, but rather than follow, he decides to check with Alfred. After all, it could be one of Bruce’s dates.
“Hello?” He calls, pushing the large door open. Alfred is in the foyer, dialling the cloisonne telephone, but when he spots Dick a relieved expression crosses his face and he puts the receiver back in its ornate cradle.
“Master Dick, thank you.” The man hurries toward him, a piece of paper in his outstretched hand. “I fear things have grown substantially worse in the hours since I called.”
Taking the paper, Dick glances at the blocky writing. “Discovered some interesting things. Gone to find my mother. Catch you later.” He puzzles over that, his foggy brain not grasping the meaning of the words with its customary ease. Until Alfred hands him a tattered birth certificate, explaining that it had been on the boy’s bed. There is another piece of paper, one with three names on it. Dick pockets both and sighs. The original Robin tries to kick his head into gear.
“Okay, Alfred, I need you to get down to the cave. See if you can run down anything to tell us where he’s going. Call me if you find something,” he says over his shoulder, as he turns to leave the same way he came.
“And where shall you be, sir?” Alfred can’t hide the concern in his voice.
“The taxi that just left was heading west, not south, so I’m betting he’s on his way to the airport.” He pulls the helmet back on his head. “If you find out differently, let me know.” Then he was out the door and back on his bike, speeding toward Archie Goodwin International, and breaking a half a dozen traffic laws in the process.
***
“…Then it was just a matter of waiting for you. All of seventy-four seconds,” he concludes with a smirk as he reclines back in his chair.
A stewardess comes by and asks if they would like anything. Jason almost winces as Goldie begins to flirt with the woman. “Rum and coke,” Jason says, trying to get her attention.
Grayson snorts at that, but the stewardess at least has the class to give him a gentle smile. “First class section or not, you don’t look ripe enough for rum. How about a straight coke instead?” She favours him with a friendly wink so he can’t really feel too disgruntled.
He sighs and nods. “Fine.”
No sooner does she head to the next person than his seat mate is poking at him. “Hey, don’t tell me that you drink as well as smoke!”
“Only when I have someone pestering me,” he grouches. Okay, that’s not true. Alcohol has never held any interest for him, but dork breath doesn’t need to know that.
“Hey, it’s in my contract,” Grayson protests, holding up his hands and grinning. Again. Does he ever stop?
While they really haven’t spent a lot of time together, it’s getting harder and harder to be pissed at the man. Actually, on the whole, Grayson-Dick-has been pretty cool about his talking smack and generally being a punk. He has no idea why the guy would go to the effort, but at the moment he really isn’t inclined to ask. Have to stay on target here. Thankfully, Big Bird seems inclined to let him.
“So why are we going all the way to Israel?” Dick asks after a moment.
“The three women that might be my biological mother are all in the Middle East. So I have to go there.” It feels pretty damn good to make that declaration as it reaffirms his resolve. He’s not quite smiling, but he does settle back a bit more into his chair.
“Yeah, okay.” Dick frowns as if reading more into the words. He pulls something from his pocket. “Maybe I’m being dense, but why not just ask for a new copy?” he asks as he waves the document in Jason’s direction.
With a little annoyed sound, Jason takes it and holds it close. “You idiot,” the teen hisses with an irritated glare, “I left it at the manor so that it would be safe!” The glare turns into a fond look both for the paper and for its precious information. “When Bruce adopted me, he found out that that St. Anthony’s, where I’d been born, burned down ages ago. Most of the documents went with it. And for whatever reason, I guess it wasn’t submitted to the Vital Statistics Office before everything went up in smoke. The Old Man had to grease a lot of palms to get around that glitch.”
Jason glances up from the paper and scowls. The man beside him has a far away and rather pained expression. Oh. Right. Fuck. Dick has all those damned issues about being a ‘ward’ and Jason just rubbed his nose in it. Not that he should care, right? It’s not like he asked Bruce to adopt him or fire Dick or any of it. Still, he feels pretty lousy.
So, he socks Dick in the bicep, hard enough to rock him in his cushy seat. “Hey, it’s so not all it’s cracked up to be. It just gives the idiot more entitlement issues. Count yourself lucky that you got out.”
When the sapphire-blue eyes meet his, they are meant to appear relaxed, maybe even teasing, yet they aren’t even close. “Is that what you’re doing on this plane? Getting out?” Dick frowns at the realization that he isn’t fooling anyone.
“Right now, I’m just looking for my mom,” Jason says firmly. He really hasn’t thought beyond that. For all he knows, she’ll turn out to be a wasted junky or something. Or she could be mom of the year, though if that’s the case, why the hell didn’t she keep him? He tries to shrug it off. That’s a lot easier to do when Dick has a very wet sneeze. “Guh! Gross man, really gross. If you make me sick, I’m so going to...” Damn! He can’t think of a good enough threat.
Dick wipes his nose on a tissue and grins at Jason. “Yeah? Whatcha gonna do?”
An evil smirk spreads across the boy’s face. “I’m going to put muscle liniment on your jock strap,” he promises in a falsely sweet voice.
“You are a nasty little punk,” Dick informs him, just before he turns around to wrap an arm about Jason’s shoulders and pulls him in for a noogie.
“Hey, get off, you jerk!” the teen splutters as he tries to get his arms free. Oh yeah, it’s going to be a very long flight.
***
Well, fucking hell. Okay, fine, line-ups were to be expected, but this is just ridiculous. Five hours?! Seriously. Jason is scowling darkly when they finally make it to the wicket and the dumpy little bureaucrat behind it. It could be that Dick thinks his expression inappropriate since he’s taken that moment to elbow Jason sharply in the ribs. Of course that doesn’t improve the teen’s countenance, although he does try to put on his game face lest he make the pencil pusher wary.
Jason is careful to let Dick do the talking. It’s irritating as hell that the guy can even charm the little toad behinds the desk, but useful just the same. The two get their passports stamped and are quickly on their way.
“Yeesh! Air port security wasn’t half as bad as that. Okay, hurdle two down; where to now, kiddo?” The man’s obvious enthusiasm is somewhat ruined by the fact that he’s just honked his nose into his handkerchief. Again. That thing has to be disgusting by now.
“Computer store. Get a lap top. Then a hotel,” Jason grouches. “What?” He demands indignantly as he notices the way that Dick is looking at him.
“You could have brought one on the flight...” Dick is eyeing him as if wondering about the current Robin’s sanity. Of all the damned... Fuck, the asshole is dense, and Jason doubts it has anything to do with the man’s cold.
“Yeah, I could. And Bruce would likely have six ways to track it and anything I use it for. No fucking thanks.” This is his show, not Bruce’s. No way is he going to let the asshole have any part of this. “And don’t you get any ideas, or you can get your ass back on that flight!” The kid pulls himself up to his full height, which is six inches shy of Dick’s. Damn.
His unwanted companion holds his hands up to ward off Jason’s anger. “Easy, Little Wing. I’m just here to help. And yeah, Bruce probably would trace it. So, computer store it is. But we also need a pharmacy. I’m dying here.” Dick turns a truly pathetic look toward his younger brother.
Jason snorts rudely, but he has to smile. “Fine, fine. We’ll do that too. And food.” The meal on the flight was awhile ago, and he’s ready for something else.
“Oh yes! Food would be good.”
Jason growls and heads out to hail a taxi. Getting one is easy enough and the guy even speaks English. But when Dick decides to show off by speaking Hebrew, Jason can only fold his arms and sit back in his seat. Tel Aviv is a strange place. It’s not anything like Gotham, but it’s also not a desert shanty town. There are skyscrapers along with a different architecture that feels older in a way he can’t really put his finger on.
As Dick babbles to the taxi driver, Jason has to wonder why he’s allowing the man to be part of this. Granted, he didn’t really have a choice back at the airport, nor on the plane. But now that they’ve landed, Jason could easily dodge him. All he’d have to do is out run the idiot, which won’t be hard with the man being sick.
So why hasn’t he done that already? Or at least contemplated it? He doesn’t know. It’s just… It’s not the same, not like when it’s Bruce. Dick is really personable where as the Old Man so isn’t. And while Bruce would be all business, Dick is inclined to enjoy things to the hilt, as well as get the job done. It is a nice change. Plus, Dick isn’t trying to take over. He asks what Jason wants to do, instead of telling him, and that is so bonus. If nothing else, having an extra pair of hands along could come in-heh-handy.
He’s a little surprised when the cab pulls to a stop before a large commercial building. Jason gets out as Dick pays the man in American dollars, giving him a hefty bonus to wait for them. They should probably get some local currency, which would be less likely to cause problems seeing as some places will only take shekels.
Taking his carry-on and suitcase, he heads into the building. It turns out to be just what they were looking for. It’s not like the box electronic stores back home, but there’s nothing wrong with the products on the limited counter space. Jason examines the specs with a practiced eye and then selects the highest-end machine there. The street rat in him is wincing at the price tag, but it’s not like he can’t afford it. He just hands over the gold card.
“Speaking of not wanting Bruce to find us,” Dick hisses at him quietly.
Jason makes a shushing motion. It’s not that the cards are stolen; they have the name of the teen’s false identities on them. Still, there’s no reason to make the proprietor suspicious.
The transaction goes through and he takes the bags that now contain his new computer, software and carry case. They head back to the cab, which is still dutifully waiting for them, with Dick all but bursting at the seams, dying to ask the as yet unspoken question. “When we get to the hotel,” is all he’ll promise. “You needed a pharmacy right?”
Okay, so it’s a transparent attempt to distract him, but Dick is willing to let it slide. For now.
The amount of stuff the guy gets in the way of cold meds is decidedly impressive. He really must be miserable. He sure sounds it for all that he still looks scarily happy. Some part of him wonders if that means anything, but he squelches the thought. He doesn’t have time for sentimental shit. They are here to see his case gets solved. His case. All his.
Yeah, this is a big ‘fuck you’ to Bruce, in more ways than one.
Now that they both have what they need, Jason instructs the cabby to drive them to a good hotel. One that has room service. Jason has a lot he wants to get done, and that won’t happen when they’re off sitting in a restaurant somewhere. Besides, no reason to slum it until they have to. If they have to. Hopefully, this will all be very straightforward.
Who the hell is he kidding? He’s got a spy and a mercenary are on the list!
Jason gets them checked in. Yes, he very much wants a suite with two beds. No way is he letting the walking germ factory over there sleep with him. It’s all going smoothly so far, maybe a little too smoothly. It’s making his skin itch. Of course, Dick is bouncing again in the elevator. Bouncing a lot, for a guy who’s sick.
“What the hell, Dick?” He glares at him.
“Dayquil is lovely, lovely stuff,” Dick gushes.
Jason tries not to cringe. He doesn’t even want to know how much of that stuff the dork has taken.
“So about the cards,” Dick drawls at him, grinning. The opening of the elevator doors isn’t going to save him from having to answer. Fine. He steps out and follows the sign pointing the way toward their room.
“I have some computer skills.” It comes out defensively. Fuck. “Anyhow, he’ll be able to crack it, but he’s going to have to look for it instead of having the computer beeping every time we use one.” And what will it mean if Bruce does make the effort? Will it matter? Yes. Jason doesn’t want him swooping in too soon.
Dick is nodding at him like a demented bobble-head. The sense of world-class wrongness is back. Jason huffs and opens the door. It’s a nice big suite. The beds look good and soft. He puts his bags down on one to go check the sight lines from the window, just in case.
“So, who are we going after first?”
“Sharmin Rosen. She works for the Mossad. That’s the Israeli Secret Service.”
Dick looks thoughtful, although maybe he’s just stoned. “Yeah? Have you tried contacting her through official channels? Seems like the sort of thing to try what with Jason Todd, civilian teenager, being her son and all.”
That one earns him an eyeroll. “That’s what I’m about to do. Doubt it will get anywhere, but we can’t be suiting up till dark anyhow.”
“Awwwww, they grow up so fast,” Dick purrs as he goes for a hair ruffle. Jason is seriously considering hitting him. Maybe mess up that perfect nose of his. “Kay, you get started on that. I’m going to order us dinner.”
Fine, whatever. Hopefully that will keep Dick out of his way for more than five minutes. Time to get to work. He sets up the new computer and starts the process of finding names of contacts whom he might approach regarding the whereabouts of one Ms. Rosen.
End of Part Two