A/N: And I'm continuing to post one-shots that have been accumulating on my laptop. This isn't really canon to anything or any timeline, just something I thought of on a Saturday at 10 pm. WARNINGS: story contains domestic violence (nothing graphic or descriptive) and lots of swearing. Enjoy!

The knocking on the door woke Jason up. He moaned and rolled over, burying his face in the dirty cushion of his couch. The knocking continued and he pushed his torso up. He glared at the door, daring it to make noise again. The knocking persisted and he let out a growl. He grabbed a gun from his coffee table and trudged towards the door. He did manage to turn the light on, blinding himself in the process. The person on the other side better be dying or they would be very soon. He unlocked the door and jerked it open. He pointed his gun at the person, who jumped and flinched simultaneously. Jason sighed but didn't lower his gun. "What'd you want Dickhead?" Dick didn't say anything. Jason lowered his gun and took a better look at the older man. He was slouched with his arms wrapped around himself. He wasn't even looking Jason in the eyes. He was looking at the floor. There was blood trickling down the side of Dick's head and he cursed. "What the fuck happened to you?" He saw a flinch go through Dick's body. Sighing, he grabbed his brother's arm. His eyes narrowed at how Dick more or less froze as he dragged him inside. Jason relocked the door and guided Dick semi-gently to the couch. "You never answered me. What the hell happened?"

Dick sat down then immediately stood back up. "I should go. I shouldn't have come."

"Oh no, you're not leaving like that." Jason pushed him back down. "Stay." He retrieved a couple of cloths and some rubbing alcohol, trying not to worry. Had Dick been mugged? Unlikely since he was Dick Grayson and no mugger in the world could take him. Just plain attacked? That idea was plausible but still dangerous. Why would a villain go to the trouble of attacking Dick? He couldn't shake the most troubling thought though as he sat down on the coffee table. "Why aren't you in Blüdhaven?" Dick didn't answer. He flinched as Jason applied pressure to the wound on his head. Something was definitely wrong. He did a quick evaluation of Dick. Besides the head wound, Dick also had several bruises on his face. Jason looked at his hands and saw scratches there. 'They look like defensive wounds.' Like someone had come at him with something sharp and he raised his hands to protect himself. There were several bruises, or maybe not bruises, on his neck as well. But it was those marks that made Jason stop. Without thinking, he reached out and tried to lift Dick's shirt.

Dick pushed it back down. "No."

"Hold this on your head genius," Jason replied, putting Dick's hands on the cloth. "You know the drill." Before Dick could protest again he lifted his shirt. He swore under his breath. Dick had bruises from fighting crime, he got that, but should he really have this many? Some looked as fresh as a few hours by his guess. He wasn't the biggest fan of anyone in their dysfunctional "family", but Dick did have skill. If Dick was so skilled and he wore kevlar, how could the under-slime of Blüdhaven be leaving him this injured?

'Unless a criminal wasn't the one who gave it to him,' a traitorous voice whispered in the back of his mind. Jason's eyes flickered to Dick's neck and then his eyes. He lowered the shirt. Maybe it wasn't criminals….but there was one other person who was close to Dick. Someone who saw him every day and could get close enough to hurt him. Granted, he wasn't The World's Greatest Detective, he wasn't even as good as the Replacement, but he wasn't dumb and he'd still been trained by Batman. Batman had tight him to notice many things. How to tell if someone's lying. How to tell if someone had just robbed a bank. How to tell if someone was in an abusive relationship. He swallowed. "Dick….where did those bruises come from?"

"Being Nightwing." The response was automatic.

"Dick, we both know the low-lives in Blüdhaven aren't able to land enough blows like that."

"It's what happened."

"What about your head wound? How'd that happen?"

"….being Nightwing."

Jason sighed, not missing how it made Dick move back slightly. "Dick…"

"It's what happened Jason."

"We both know it's not." He didn't say anything. "Tell me, Dick."

"I did."

"Dick." Dick looked at him and Jason could see the truth. "You and I both know the truth. Who hurt you before I pour the whole bottle on your wound." No response. "Did she-"

"Catalina didn't do anything!" He seemed to realize his mistake as soon as he said it.

Jason's hands tightened into fists. 'That god damn, fucking bitch! When I get my hands on her she'll wish she was never born!' He stood up and grabbed his phone. "Don't move." As much as he absolutely loathed going to Bruce for help about anything…..Jason knew he wasn't the person Dick needed. He also knew he was not qualified to handle this situation. Jason called Bruce but go no answer. 'Fucking dammit Bruce!' He tried again but got the same response. 'He's probably on a business trip.' So he changed tactics. If he loathed getting help from Bruce, asking his replacement for help was on top of the list of 'Things Jason Possibly Hates More Than the Joker'. He glanced back at Dick while it rang. As soon as he saw the bruises and blood and his anger riled up again. Maybe asking Tim for help was second only to something else. He got no answer and threw his phone across the room, cursing. Dick let out a whimper and Jason felt guilt flood him. 'Ok Jay, calm down.' Jason composed himself as he sat back down. "Let me see." He moved the cloth away and noticed that the bleeding had stopped. With a nod, he grabbed a new one and briefly soaked it with rubbing alcohol. "Hold still. This'll sting." He dabbed the cloth against the wound. Dick let out a soft hiss of pain. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

Dick couldn't meet his eyes. "Tell them what? There's nothing to tell."

"Dick she's hurting you. You need to open your god damn eyes."

"It's fine. I….I can take a few hits."

"You look like you've taken more than a few." He rubbed at the blood a little, trying to gauge how deep the cut was. "Taking a few hits isn't something you should be doing in a loving relationship."

"She just…loses her temper sometimes. No different from Dami attacking Tim."

Jason snorted and rolled his eyes. "No, they can attack each other because one of them is a demon. Your situation is different."

"No."

"Dick-"

"She loves me."

Jason threw down the rag and jumped to his feet. "That's not an excuse! You're supposed to be the Golden Boy but you can't see the signs of an abusive relationship righting front of you?! Do you even hear yourself?! How the hell could you let it go on for this long?! Open your fucking eyes, Dick!" The look on Dick's face was like a punch to the gut. He was cowering on the couch, refusing to meet Jason's eyes. Dick, his older brother who would face down Batman's whole rogues gallery alone if it came down to it, was cowering from him. 'Well, I'm officially an asshole.' Jason sighed and rubbed his face. This was why Bruce or Tim should be handling this situation. He sat back down, but Dick wouldn't let him touch his wound. Jason exhaled. "Dick, we both know what's going on here isn't healthy."

"She loves me."

"You can say that a hundred times and it wouldn't make it ok."

"She does!"

Jason shook his head. "Do you love her?"

"Of course!"

"And would you….do this to her?"

"I….no…"

Jason nodded. "This isn't love Dick."

Dick lowered his eyes again. "How could I tell?"

"What?"

"How could I tell? I'm Nightwing. Hero of Blüdhaven. How could I face Bruce if he knew what was happening? Or you or Tim or…anyone?! How could I face my friends or the League?" He shook his head. "I'm a hero. How was I supposed to explain this?"

"Take it from someone who's screwed up in almost every possible way, including dying, Bruce will not think any less of you because of this. Tim won't. Damian won't. No one will."

"You don't know that."

"Actually I do because, and again, speaking from personal experience, they're good people. They know when someone doesn't deserve respect." Jason moved slowly, then resumed cleaning the wound when Dick didn't push him away.

"You don't really believe that."

"Ah, but can you prove it?" There was a moment of silence.

"I need her."

"No you don't."

"She knows my identity."

"Let Bruce handle that."

"I love her." Jason froze and Dick looked at him. "She's always sorry."

"I'm sure she is."

"We all deserve a second chance."

"I'm sure you've given her more than two. Dick, you can't go on like this." He finished as was satisfied the wound wasn't deep. "How'd this happen anyways?"

"She came at me with a knife."

Jason felt he deserved a medal for not having another angry outburst. "What happened?"

Dick shifted. "She was mad because I've been spending so much time on patrol. She accused me of cheating and said….."

"What?"

"She said I was a man-whore and no one else was going to love me like her. She said I was lucky to have her even if- Even if I didn't deserve her…." Was she dead yet? Jason wondered how he hadn't killed this bitch yet. "She grabbed a knife from the kitchen and attacked me. I tried to block her but I just couldn't….and my body wouldn't…. I ran into the bedroom and locked the door."

"How'd you get here?"

"Climbed out the window. Hotwired my bike."

Jason closed his eyes so he could compose himself. "Dick….I need you to understand that she's a waste of oxygen and carbon." Dick opened his mouth but Jason pressed on. "You deserve better and you know it."

Dick closed his eyes. "I don't want to tell him."

Jason didn't need to ask who he was referring to. "Well lucky for you I think Bruce is away." At least he'd better be or Jason would kill him. "But we have to tell someone."

"….Tim?"

Jason nodded. "He's a good first step." He put his hand on Dick's shoulder. His brother flinched and pushed it off. Jason clenched his fist. If his tactile brother didn't want to be touched….this girl was dead. "Neither of them will hate you."

"You hate me."

"That's unrelated to this. I hate you for completely different reasons." Dick didn't smile and Jason's mind screamed for blood. "Come on, it's late."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Nah, I'm just taking you to my bedroom."

"I should really go home-"

"No! Absolutely not! You're not stepping foot in Blüdhaven until we get this mess sorted out."

"But where will I go?"

"I'm sure Tim would take you in. Once Bruce finds out he'll probably lock you in your old bedroom at the Manor anyways."

"But what if they-"

"They won't hate you." Jason turned on the light and pushed Dick onto the bed. A sudden thought made his blood freeze. 'I swear to god if she hurt him sexually the cops will be finding pieces of her for the next decade.' He rubbed his face tiredly. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with this once we're well rested."

"Ok." Jason walked away as Dick curled up under the blankets. "Jay?"

"Hm?"

"…thanks."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm the best." He turned the light off and made his way back to the living room. He wanted to punch a wall. To rage and shoot his gun. To get even. But Dick was probably already asleep in the next room so he settled for throwing himself face down onto the couch. 'Fuck her! She's so dead!' Jason was furious this had happened. Dick wanted one thing in life, and that was to be happy. Jason would forever be mad that this had happened to him. He groaned and turned the light off before flopping back down again. Tomorrow, well later that day, he could call Tim and try Bruce again. They'd have to explain all this. Figure out how to protect Dick's identity. How to get him help. How to keep him safe. And if for some reason everyone else proved themselves to be even more self-righteous than Jason thought…he'd keep Dick here with him. There was no way in hell he was going back to Blüdhaven, that was for sure. For now, though his brother was safe and asleep behind a closed door. And for the moment, that was enough for Jason.