They don't really know how Nightwing was caught, only that he must have been put under some kind of mind control before they released him back into Gotham. Nightwing had headed straight for Red Hood, and Jason hates everything at the moment, because right now he's blow for blow with his brother, and neither of them are really holding back.

"Shit," Jason grits out, barely dodging a flying kick aimed at his temple. He gives as good as he's got, but Dick's been at this for almost as long as Bruce has, and when he's going at Jason with murderous intent—Jason's kind of floundering here. "Where the fuck are you guys? At this rate I'm gonna end up killing him."

Which isn't his goal, but Jason's also not sure how to deal with Dick like this. There's no way to get close enough by himself so he can restrain him. All he can do is fight.

"Forty seconds out," Tim's voice says in his helmet. "Batman has been delayed, so it's just the three of us until Orphan can get here."

"Two, three, I don't care," Jason snarls, catching Dick's fist and twisting. "Better than just me."

Forty seconds ticks by too slowly, and Jason takes a solid punch to his shoulder just as Tim falls from the rooftops and surprises Dick with a hard enough kick to send him sliding backwards with a cough.

"You okay?" Tim asks Jason, even though he's not facing him. He's got his bo staff out in front of him, ready to attack again, even though Dick's still picking himself up.

Damian touches down silently next to them, oddly quiet.

"Fine," Jason grunts. "Shoulder'll be sore tomorrow, though. He's not holding back."

"Do we know what happened yet?" Tim asks.

Jason shrugs. "Hell if I know. Came at me like a bat out of hell barely a minute after B warned us all Nightwing'd been whammied."

"So what do we do now?" Damian speaks for the first time since arriving.

He looks off kilter. Uncertain. Like the thirteen year old boy he is. It makes Jason's stomach churn, because Damian is the biggest brat, but Dick can always manage to do the impossible, like turn the loudest, proudest, angriest assassin into a boy worried about his brother.

Dick seems to do that to all of them. It pisses Jason off.

"Restrain him," Jason says. "Or knock him out. Anything to stop him. He's not gonna go down easy, but it should relieve the pressure to have more—shit."

Jason ducks just in time to duck under Dick's swing. He pushes forward and throws an elbow into his older brother's stomach, but Dick's already stepping back, away from the blow. Even mind-controlled, he's an amazing fighter.

Tim steps in from behind, and Damian just a second after him, but Dick performs some crazy maneuver using the wall, and he's flipping over all three of their heads. Jason's on him the moment he lands.

It goes like that for a while. Jason, Tim, and Damian's goal is to stop Dick, but keep him alive. Dick's coming at them with full strength, aiming to kill. It makes it just this side of harder to keep him down. Finally, Jason's had enough. He whips out his gun, doesn't give Tim time to do more than scream, "No!" before he shoots at Dick's legs.

Dick, of course, avoids it.

"The hell are you doing?" Tim hisses.

"If we don't go at him with everything we've got, he's going to win this, baby bird," Jason snaps. "If he wins, we're all dead. I'm not just gonna stand here and let him kick my ass."

"You'll hurt him!" Damian yells.

"Better hurt than a mind-controlled zombie trying to kill us," Jason says, and he shoots again.

Dick dodges, though, and invades Jason's personal space. Too close to use the gun, so Jason goes for a pistol whip, but Dick's ahead of him there, too. They wrestle over the gun for a moment, and while Jason's bigger and stronger than Dick, the acrobat uses the wall to flip over and twist the gun from Jason's hands.

Then it's Jason getting pistol whipped. It hurts like a bitch.

"Red Hood!" Jason hears Tim yell, but it's hard to hear him. It sounds more like Jason's underwater than in an alley in the middle of Gotham.

He loses a chunk of time. Maybe a minute, he thinks. But when he looks up, Tim and Damian aren't fighting anymore. Jason's still on his feet, but he'd ended up staggering into a wall. Tim is frozen, staff still at the ready, but moving no closer than the five feet away from Dick he still is.

It's a second later that Jason realizes why.

Dick has the gun aimed at Damian's head.

Shit.

But Dick hasn't pulled the trigger yet. Something's wrong. Or maybe something's a little bit right. Dick, who'd been perfectly fine while Jason had been fighting him besides the whole mind-control thing, is staring at Damian with a scrunched up expression. There's sweat collecting at Dick's temple, obviously not from the fight, and Dick's just standing there.

"Hey there, Dickie," Jason calls softly, and the hand holding the gun trembles once. Jason's right. Dick's shaking it off. "Hey, Dickiebird. Look at me a second."

Dick doesn't move, but his eyes flit to meet Jason's. Just a split second before they're back on Damian. Damian's frozen, too. He looks—scared. Jason doesn't focus on him.

"Whatever's wrong with you, we can help," Jason continues. "I know you don't want to do any of this."

"I—" Dick cuts off with a choked breath. He doesn't speak again, but there's some awareness coming back to his eyes. They don't look as glassy. He's coming around.

"All you have to do is let go of the gun," Jason says. "It's probably gonna be hard, but you're Dick fucking Grayson. The golden boy himself. Besides, if you don't let go of the gun, you're probably going to hurt someone, and I don't think you want that."

Dick swallows, but the trembling in his hand grows stronger, and Jason realizes that Dick is trying to force his fingers to relax. He's trying to drop the gun. But then his grip tightens, and Jason stiffens. Damian swallows.

But, of course, Dick's not done. Instead of dropping the gun, Dick yells out—maybe in frustration, maybe in anger. Jason's not going to pretend to know—and throws the gun. At Jason.

Jason barely catches it. He doesn't move beyond that, too entranced in watching Tim finally move forward, pulling Damian back at the same time. Tim flips over Dick's head, and escrima sticks clash against bo staff. Dick's moment of clarity is over.

But. But. It's enough. Dick's still fucking fighting in his own head.

"Orphan," Jason growls. "How close are you?"

"Five more minutes," Cass says quietly. "No more. No less."

Damn. Jason's not sure they have five minutes.

"Stay here," Jason orders Damian, who still looks sort of shell-shocked, and he charges in as Tim's getting thrown back, bruise blooming on his face and potential concussion be damned. After a few seconds of grappling, he manages to grab both of Dick's hands in his, and he slams his head forward. The helmet resounds against Dick's forehead, and just as Jason lets go of his hands, Dick's stumbling back.

He's blinking, though. The glazed look in his eyes fading a bit again.

"Wha—?" Dick says. He's trembling again, this time with his whole body. "Where—?"

Jason doesn't waste any time. Instead, he grabs Dick while he's confused and starts to disarm him. Tim's by his side soon, and the escrima sticks are being thrust away from Dick's hands, and the suit's defense mechanisms are being disabled.

Dick doesn't really fight them anymore. He's panting, eyes unfocused as he tries to fight whatever is messing his head up.

"Fuck," Dick is murmuring, and Jason's sure if Dick had his hands free from Jason's grip, that he'd be cradling his head. He looks like hell. "Fuck, fuck. I'm gonna be sick. I'm—"

Dick cuts himself off, breathing stuttering to a stop. Then his eyes roll up into his head, and he straight up drops.

Jason barely catches him.

"Call Batman!" Jason yells, just as Dick goes rigid, his whole body arching out of Jason's arms. Jason struggles to keep his brother's body immobile, and it's only then he realizes how beat up Dick really is. There are bruises on his neck and face, tears in the light Kevlar, and Dick's arm—the one that had held the gun—is being held at the wrong angle.

Meaning, Dick had put up a hell of a fight before whoever had caught him whammied him. Plus, all the injuries Tim, Damian, and Jason had given him.

"He's on his way," Tim says.

Jason grunts in acknowledgement. "Help me hold him down. Both of you."

Dick's clearly fighting some internal battle, and it takes all three of them to keep him from injuring himself further. Tim has to stop Dick from clawing at his face and eyes, and Damian has to hold down Dick's legs, while Jason just keeps Dick in his lap and prays that Batman gets here sooner rather than later, because this is one of the scariest things Jason's experienced in his life.

And he's died before.

But while this doesn't exactly take the cake, Jason's just at a loss as to what to do. All they can do is to wait until Bruce gets here with a car, so they can take Dick back to the Cave and get him treated. Some major Justice League treatment, if it's too much for Leslie and Alfred.

The scariest part is when Dick goes limp.

"He's breathing," Tim whispers, mask lenses wide and hand on Dick's chest. "He's still alive."

Orphan drops down just as the Batmobile screeches to a halt in front of them.

Jason has only wanted Bruce more once in his life.

"Status," Bruce barks the moment he's out of the car, and he takes Dick from Jason's tight grip as Tim explains. Jason sits on the ground and just lets Bruce take away his older brother. Lets him whisk Nightwing into the car, and it's only when Cass nudges him lightly that Jason finally makes himself move.

It's going to be a long night, and Jason's already ready to drop.

"Coming?" Cass wonders.

Jason swallows, stares at the car, and says, "Yeah. I'm coming."

Dick somehow turns out okay.

Jason and his siblings spend the night in the Watchtower while Batgirl watches over Gotham. Jason knows that Bruce will be back in the city the moment he hears about trouble, but for now, Dick is the priority. Specifically, getting whatever is in Dick's head controlling him, out.

It's not easy. It takes the efforts of several Leaguers, but they eventually give Dick the all clear.

He doesn't wake up, though. Apparently, he's exhausted from trying to fight the mind control. He sleeps through Tim's crying, through Jason and Bruce's fight, through his arm getting splinted, through Wally and Roy's brief visit, through the transport home.

Jason's about up to his ears in frustration, but he diligently sits by Dick's bedside with Damian as Bruce types away on the computer about some case. The case he'd been working on while Dick had been fighting his brothers.

"When is he going to wake up?" Damian asks quietly, catching Jason's attention.

"Dunno," Jason says, staring at Dick's sleeping face. "Could probably be another couple hours, if J'onn and Bruce are right."

"What if—" Damian falters, and starts again, softer, more nervous, "What if Richard does not wake up?"

The typing behind them stops. Jason doesn't let himself think about it.

"Well, since the Justice League gave him the all clear, he's probably fine," Jason says, stamping down his own rising fear. "Dick's probably just being overdramatic again."

"Fuck you," Dick croaks, his eyes blinking open. They're still a little foggy, but he looks more coherent than he has all night.

Damian and Jason both jump to their feet, and there's footsteps from beyond the infirmary, signaling that Bruce is coming over, too. Tim would be here, too, if he hadn't fallen asleep at the table again. Alfred had put his foot down, and Tim had gone to bed.

"Welcome to land of the living, Dickie," Jason greets with a lazy grin. "Also, why the hell are you cursing me out?"

"I am the perfect amount of dramatic," Dick whines, because he's literally five years old. "Also, I feel like I've been run over with the Batmobile about twelve times, so you are obligated as my little brother to be nice to me."

"Fat chance," Jason snorts.

Damian ignores Jason, but what else is new. "You're alright, Richard?" the kid asks, and again, he looks too young.

Dick gives Damian a reassuring smile, along with a weak laugh. "I'm okay, Dami. Little scrambled, but a good night's sleep should fix me right up."

Jason refrains from telling Dick that he'd already gotten a night's sleep. Maybe it wasn't good, but it was still longer than Jason thinks any of them have ever slept while not sick.

"Good to see you awake, chum," comes Bruce's warm voice from behind Jason. Dick's gaze meets Bruce's as he steps up next to Jason, and Jason can literally see the way Dick relaxes. "Alfred will be down with food soon."

Dick's eyelids flutter as he sighs. "Wake me up when he gets here. I'm gonna take a nap."

Jason blows out a large breath. "Geez, Dick. You literally just woke up."

But Dick's already out, breathing even. He looks a lot more peaceful than before, though, so Jason doesn't push the issue. Instead, he just plops back down into his abandoned chair. Bruce stays, too, sitting on the side opposite of Damian and Jason.

"He will be okay?" Damian asks again.

Jason stares at Dick's face and realizes that he can't answer. He could lie, but he doesn't know the answer. Doesn't know the effects this whole incident will bring short and long term. Doesn't know how Dick's mental state will end up. Whether he'll be able to work through it on his own if it turns out he's super messed up over it.

But Bruce saves him.

"He'll be okay," Bruce reassures them. There's no smile on his face, but the way he's looking at both of them is probably the closest thing to a loving smile that they're going to get. "If he needs help, we'll help him. But, eventually, he'll be okay."

"Yeah," Jason says without really thinking. "What he said."

Damian finally relents and sits back down in his chair. The three of them sit at Dick's bedside for a long time, waiting for Dick to wake up again.

Because Bruce is right. Whether Dick's okay at first or not, they're all going to be here to help him if he needs it.

Surprisingly, even Jason.