The doorbell is ringing.

Dick groans and throws a pillow over his face. Why did he choose that annoying doorbell, anyway? It's late, he'd just gotta back from patrol, and he is exhausted. Bruce is still prowling the shadows, though, haunting the streets of Gotham like his namesake. He's been that way since Jason. He took it even harder than Dick did. He thinks it's his fault.

The doorbell rings again, then again and again. Its fast enough to make a speedster proud.

Dick heaves himself of the couch. Who just decides to visit at three in the morning?

The doorbell chimes again.

"Coming, coming." Dick stumbles to the door and wrenches it open. "What do you want-?" His voices dies in his throat.

It's Jason.

Jason. Who's dead. Been so for three years.

"Hi Dick." He says calmly, like he was just dropping by for a visit, and wasn't supposed to be six feet under. "I want to talk of course."

"Seriously? You're giving me the Robin costume? The original Robin costume?"

"The one and only, Little Wing. Take care of it. That thing's an antique."

"Sure. I'm not going to even wear this thing!"

"Well, if you're not going to use that one, use this."

"Incoherent numbers? Wait, that's the Bludhaven code!"

"Thats my phone number. If you ever need anyone to talk to, come and find me."

"I will! Thanks Dick!"

"So. Are you going to invite me in or just go on staring?"

"If I came back from the dead, you would stare too."

"True, but you're the nice one here."

"Yeah."

"Can I come in now, O Nice One?"

Dick steps outside, closing the door behind him. "Look, Jaybird, it's not like I don't want you here, but-"

"You can't." Jason takes a step back, off the threshold. "Yeah, I know this speech."

"Jay, you know that's not what I meant. You're still my little brother-"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not very 'little' anymore."

"Well, no, but- What do you doing here?"

"Exactly what you told me years ago. If you ever need anyone to talk to, come and find me. Or have you forgotten that too?"

"Jason, this really isn't the right time. I have stuff to do, and-"

"Yeah," he turns away. "Stuff."

"Little Wing!"

"Don't call me Little Wing! I'm not little anymore, Dick."

"Jason! Come in, okay?"

He spins around to face him."I don't need your help! I won't ever need hep from a liar, a fraud. The minute I'm not Bruce's Golden Boy, I'm basically dead, aren't I? I'm just a step on the ladder!"

"Jason!" Dick pushes open the door, hard, making it slam into the wall. "Come on!"

Jason turns to him, eyes cold with a fury the Dick never saw before. Well, not pointed at him anyway. "I don't need your help." He grounds out. "I can manage on my own."

"Jaybird!"

"And don't call me that either!"

The blood pours out of the gash, mixing with the rain. Dick steps forward. "Jason," he says. "Let me help."

He growls, and backs away like a wounded animal. "Don't come any closer. I take care of myself, remember?"

"You don't have the supplies to treat the bullet wound."

"I'll manage. I've managed so far."

"At least let me check it!" Dick grabs his arm.

"No!" He spits, jerking his arm away, and letting out a hiss of pain. "I don't need your help, Nightwing. I never have and never will."

"Come on! Are you still mad about that one time?"

"Yes." He says stoically, pressing the wound against his shirt, staining a small patch crimson. Dick winced.

"I saved your butt a million times over afterwards!"

"Yeah." He laughs. "You're so stupid, Nightwing. I wouldn't have needed saving, if you had just kept your promise."

"Let me make it up to you! Let me take you home with me!"

"Dick, my dear delusional Dick. You had your chance. It's too late now." Jason grins at him hollowly.

"At least let me try!"

"I keep telling you I don't need your help!" Jason releases his smoke bombs. Instantly a thick cloud of smoke covers the alley. Nightwing squints. He can't see a thing through the smoke.

He randomly grabs around him, and his hand strikes something hard. There's another hiss of pain, a muffled curse.

"Jason!" Dick cries, relived. He waves his hands to clear a bit of the smoke. But its too late. There's a thump sound, and Jason is gone.

But when the gray veil finally dissipates, he can see his hand again. It glows wet and dark, glistening in the flickering light from the street lamp. It's blood. Jason's blood.

Apparently, I'm still not comfortable with swearing.

So, hope you enjoyed this! Dick did give Jason his costume and number, but I'm pretty sure these scenes weren't actually featured in the comic book(s).

That said, the characterization for Nightwing is based on Young Justice, and Jason Under the Red Hood.

Also, REVIEW, people! It's been I while since I asked that, and its outrageous. My current record for most faved story with ANY reviews, is Zannia, with six favs. *outrage* Tell me what you think do, I can make my writing better! Yay!