Happy birthday to me!

In the Shadow of Two Gunmen
DCU/MCU; Jason, Natasha, Steve, various members of the Batfamily; AU; pg; 12,330 words
After the fall of the Soviet Union, Department X was dissolved and their inventory was liquidated. The League of Assassins acquired certain assets.

Pre-reboot. Non-compliant with Cap 2 and AoU and more like a combination of the Winter Soldier's 616 backstory with Bucky's movieverse background. Do the usual timeline hokey-pokey. Written for the West Wing title project.

Many thanks to Snacky for cheerleading and looking it over, to DevilDoll and silveronthetree for encouragement during the 2+ years that I worked on this, and to redrikki for helping out when I was stuck.

Or read it at AO3.

~*~

In the Shadow of Two Gunmen

1.

This guy isn't like the other teachers Talia's lined up for Jason.

Jason asks what his deal is after Talia introduces them, and she says, "The Winter Soldier is the best. There is much you could learn from him." Jason wants to scoff, because everyone's heard of the Winter Soldier (at least, everyone who's heard of the League of Assassins has), but he's a ghost, a rumor. A name whispered in dark places. And he hasn't seen the guy shoot yet.

"I thought he was a legend."

"Yes," Talia says. "But you of all people should know that just because someone is a legend doesn't mean they aren't real."

Jason actually does scoff at that, but it's perfunctory at best. All of the other teachers Talia's lined up for him have been experts in their fields despite the fact that they were disgusting as people (she never explicitly condones what he does with them when he's done with their lessons, but he gets the feeling she approves; or maybe he just desperately needs to believe that), so he's willing to cut her dramatics a little slack.

Even if this guy's not the legendary Winter Soldier, he's a killer for sure--he's teaching Jason the finer points of long distance elimination, after all, and it's clear he's an expert--but he's not running drugs or selling kids on the side (he doesn't seem to have anything going on outside of killing people, and he only does that professionally, which isn't as creepy as it could be, after some of the people Jason's dealt with), so Jason figures he'll let him live. (He doesn't actually wonder about whether he'd have been able to kill him until much, much later.)

The only thing about him that gives Jason pause is the way his accent sometimes slips, and Jason can't quite tell if the Russian or the New York is the original. Well, and the fact that he's another black-haired, blue-eyed boy, clean-cut enough to fit right into the Wayne family portrait, and that maybe makes Jason like him a little less, especially when Brooklyn slips into his vowels, and Jason feels like he's back in Gotham for a second. The fact that he's another one of Talia's special projects has nothing to do with any animosity Jason might feel, and that alone could account for Jason letting the guy walk away.

Sometimes he's too contrary for his own good, especially when the only person he's trying to prove things to is himself.

They spend hours together, first shooting targets at the range and then, once Jason is deemed ready (Jason rolls his eyes so hard he gives himself a headache, but the guy doesn't seem to care), lying silently on rooftops.

"Be still," says the Winter Soldier, his voice surprisingly soft but almost completely flat and unaccented today, "and be patient." Neither of which are Jason's strong suits. It's another semi-familiar situation that makes Jason want to run off at the mouth, all bad jokes and sarcasm, as if he's still wearing scaly green panties and a domino mask. But he's not Robin anymore and this guy sure ain't Batman. He's certainly got the humorless brooding part down, though.

So Jason just smokes another cigarette (he's tempted to strike the match on the guy's metal arm, but he'd kind of like to stay alive long enough to not kill him) and rolls his eyes again when the guy frowns at him and says, "The smoke will give away our location." Jason puts the cigarette out, but that's the last straw.

"I'm done with this guy," he says to Talia at their next meeting. "I know he's one of your pets, and he doesn't seem like too much of a dirtbag, so I'm not gonna kill him, but I am done."

"If you say so," she answers. "You're one of the few people in the world who's seen his face and lived, so I suppose it must count as a success."

"And vice versa," Jason mutters.

"I would prefer to keep it that way," Talia continues, as if he hasn't spoken. "I think you have a lot in common." Jason scoffs at that, but Talia pays him no mind. "There is a lot you could learn from him, but it's your choice."

Jason doesn't see him again for three years.

*

2.

Jason spends a tense evening disarming a bomb planted beneath the gym floor at PS 132, with Oracle giving him directions in his ear, because sometimes even he needs help and she's the one best able to provide it.

He's already in a shitty mood because one, dealing with bombs is fucking intense; two, the gym is decorated for the sixth grade spring fling and it's fucking depressing; and three, any time he has to deal with the family (even Babs, whose relationship with him isn't quite as fraught as the others'), it basically ruins his night because feelings, so when he sees the glint of a streetlight off the scope of a rifle a few roofs away, he's ready to throw down. The muzzle flashes before he gets there, and he sees some guy in a tux go down at the entrance of the Gotham Grand.

"O, some suit just got tagged in front of the Gotham Grand," he barks, since he knows she's still (always) there. "Any word on who?"

"Fundraising gala for Mercy Hospital," she answers tersely. "Guest list includes bigwigs from everywhere." There's a pause and then, "Peter Leung; he's a Stark Industries board member."

"Fuck." That means Iron Man and his new crew of superheroes will show up, with SHIELD trailing behind them, all of which will only make Bruce crankier when he hears about it. Normally, Jason would be all for anything that gets the big guy bent out of shape, but not when he's stuck in the middle and not the one in control.

"Yeah." She doesn't sound any more thrilled than he does. "Cursory scan shows he's clean, or at least, has no overt mob ties."

Jason catches sight of the shooter scrambling over rooftops half a block ahead of him, so he just grunts. Then, after a second look, "Let me know if you find anything. This guy is big league." In fact, the closer Jason gets, the more familiar the guy looks. "By which I mean, League of Assassins." He flicks on the camera in his helmet. "I'm sending you some footage." Then he saves his breath for the run. The guy is good, but he doesn't know the terrain the way Jason does; Jason can navigate these rooftops blindfolded. (And, thanks to Dick, he has.)

Another three rooftops and Jason sees his chance--he takes the angle and cuts the guy off with a flying tackle. The guy twists and evades most of it, leaving Jason eating roofing. Even with the padding at his knees and elbows, Jason's going to be bruised. The guy is wearing some kind of weird fetish mask over the bottom of his face and a sleek pair of night vision goggles, so there's not much for O's facial recognition software to work with, but there doesn't need to be--he's also wearing fingerless gloves and his left hand is made of metal.

"Hey," Jason yells, turning off the voice-distorter in his helmet so his voice will sound familiar. "Hey, buddy."

The guy shows no sign of recognition as he takes off across the rooftops. Well, fuck.

"I know who he is," Jason says, as the Winter Soldier leaps down onto the roof of a passing SUV and then slips into the passenger-side window as it speeds away. Jason only gets half the plate number because the rest is covered with dirt and grime, but it'll be enough for Oracle. "Well, for certain values of 'know' and 'is,' anyway. I don't think even he knows who he really is."

"J?"

"Find whatever you can on the Winter Soldier. He's definitely one of Talia's. Also, late-model black SUV, Jersey plates, final four digits are 9283, heading towards the Mooney Bridge, if you've got anyone up that way to catch him."

"Okay." Then, "B and R are tied up with Two-Face down by the Tricorner Yards," Oracle says, "and BG is dealing with a drug ring on campus. You'll have to speak with Stark and his team."

"Oh, fuck me."

"You're the one who can ID the shooter."

"I don't think SHIELD will consider me a reliable witness." Even with the Bat on his chest. Bruce and SHIELD don't really get along, and Jason's not big on Orwellian homeland security agencies himself. They tend to make his life more difficult.

The silence on the other end lengthens, and then there's a tiny click. He knows it's unnecessary, but Babs is giving him a heads up, so he sucks in a breath and braces himself, even though he knows Bruce is somewhere in Europe with Selina.

"I trust you to handle it, J." Dick's voice, not Batman's. Not Bruce's.

Jason exhales. "Okay. But I'm keeping the mask on."

"By all means," Dick responds. "Don't shoot any of them, though."

"Not even Stark? Come on, he wouldn't mind if I shot Tony Stark, would he?"

There's a soft huff, and Jason's brain breaks a little (more) imagining Dick laughing in the cowl. "Probably not, but Ms. Potts might, and then Alfred would never let you have cookies again."

Jason grunts. "Good point." He hesitates, then, "Should I stop by later? Maybe see what R knows about this guy?"

"If he's one of Talia's, one of us should know something," Dick agrees. "I'll call a family meeting." There's that faint click again, and Dick's gone before Jason can answer.

"Great," he mutters, knowing Babs, at least, can still hear him. "Alfie better have the coffee on, because I'm going to need it if I have to deal with SHIELD and the family."

"Quit your bitching," she answers, "and take off that stupid helmet. You don't want Captain America to think you're the Red Skull, do you?"

"Good point," he says, sighing theatrically. "My life is the hardest."

She doesn't dignify that with a response.

He makes his way back to the hotel via the rooftops, and stows his helmet behind a chimney; he can pick it up later, and he's still got the domino. Turns out that wearing a mask under his mask--which he only started doing because he's as much of a drama llama as the rest of the family--has come in handy more than once.

There's a roar overhead and Iron Man whooshes by, followed by one of those fancy SHIELD jets, which lands on the roof of the hotel. The men in black converge on the ground, sirens wailing as the paramedics show up, but Jason knows they're too late--the Winter Soldier doesn't miss, and he doesn't leave anyone alive.

He catalogues the scene, making note of which Avengers have accompanied Stark--only Captain America is visible, which means Hawkeye and Black Widow are watching from somewhere hidden while the agents and cops argue over who has jurisdiction and who's going to get stuck doing the legwork and then cheated out of the glory of the collar.

Jason has always enjoyed making an entrance, so after that quick assessment, he jumps down off the ledge and lands in the middle of the group, which scatters around him. He tosses off a jaunty salute and then a mocking bow. "Hello, agents of SHIELD and assorted Avengers."

"Who the hell are you?" Stark's chin is raised belligerently, and since his faceplate is retracted, Jason can see that his eyebrows are drawn down in a frown.

Jason gives him the most deliciously feral smile he's got. "I'm the guy who can ID your shooter."

Stark gives him a dismissive once-over, his gaze lingering only on the guns at Jason's hips. "How do I know you're not the shooter?"

"I only shoot dirtbags." Jason thumbs the grip of one of his guns tenderly. "So unless you know something about the dead guy that I don't..."

"And we're just supposed to take your word for it?"

Jason looks him over. He's fought bigger. He grins, showing his teeth. "You wanna go, Tin Man?"

"Listen, you piece of--"

"Tony." That's Captain America, and okay, he's as impressive as Dick always said and Jason never believed, because Stark shuts his mouth, though he still doesn't look happy about it. Then Captain America turns that stern gaze on Jason, who straightens up instinctively. He decides not to bother with slouching again. "I thought the Batman didn't use guns."

"I'm not the Batman," Jason answers, only a little surly, because Captain America. It's like being nasty to Superman. He could do it, but he'd just feel like shit afterwards. It's not an experience he's eager to repeat.

Captain America nods once, accepting that answer for now, though Jason has a feeling they'll be coming back to his identity soon enough. "What can you tell us?"

"The shot came from the roof of the Bank of America tower." Jason nods his chin at it.

The balding middle-aged suit says, "Hawkeye, check it out," and then turns his attention to Jason. "How do you know?"

"Because I was on the roof of the Foxtel building when it happened. Your guy is a pro." Jason shakes his head. "Not just a pro--a real heavy hitter. The vic must have pissed someone off but good."

"You recognized him?" the suit says, and there's something that could be surprise in his voice, but is probably just skepticism. Jason's used to that from authority figures.

His mouth twists in annoyance. "Do you really wanna discuss it out here?"

Captain America frowns. "He's right. Do we have a mobile unit set up yet?"

The suit nods towards a large black van parked in the hotel's driveway. "Right over here, ah, the Red Hood, if I'm not mistaken."

"Be careful, J. This guy's good," Babs murmurs in his ear. "Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD. He's pretty high up in their hierarchy. One of Fury's fixers."

"So you've heard of me, Agent Coulson? Only good things, I hope," Jason says grandly, enjoying the sharp looks that gets him from Stark and Captain America.

"Give Oracle my regards," Coulson says with a small smile. "We play Words with Friends sometimes," he explains for the benefit of the others, and then says to Stark, "I'm surprised Jarvis hasn't introduced you."

Babs growls but doesn't say anything, so Jason just smiles tightly.

"You can be sure I'll be asking him about it," Stark answers, "but right now, I'd like to find out what red riding hood here has to say."

Jason follows them into the van, which is cluttered with state of the art surveillance equipment and computers, but thankfully devoid of people except for a hot redhead in a catsuit.

"You must be the Black Widow," Jason says, offering a hand. "I'm a huge fan of your work. The human traffickers in Priština--that was amazing. The way you set their whole compound on fire really made an impression."

She looks at his hand but doesn't take it. He's not offended; he wouldn't shake his hand either. She nods at her SHIELD and Avengers colleagues. "Hawkeye's got the forensics team up on the roof with him; there's no evidence of a sniper's nest, but they did find some hairs and fibers we might be able to identify."

"I can do better than that," Jason says, pulling out a burner phone and cueing up the video from his helmet cam. "Your shooter's wearing a mask but he has some unmistakable identifying marks and a very well-known name." He looks from Stark to Coulson. "Mr. Leung must have really pissed someone off, because you're looking for the Winter Soldier."

The big announcement doesn't get the reception Jason was hoping for. Stark and Captain America look baffled and Coulson shakes his head. "The Winter Soldier is a myth, a rumor left over from the Cold War."

"No," Black Widow says. She's gone very still, tense in a way she wasn't before Jason said the magic words. "He's real."

The others stare at her, but she doesn't say anything else, and the silence stretches uncomfortably.

"Oh sure, believe her," Jason finally says when he can't take it anymore. "It's not like I didn't catch him on video tonight." He presses play, and though the video is grainy, the Winter Soldier is recognizable to anyone who's worked with him.

"There aren't many people who've seen him work and lived to tell about it," Black Widow says.

"You're actually not the first person to tell me that," he replies with a huff of laughter. "And I'd like to keep it that way, so does anyone know why the League of Assassins is targeting Stark Industries board members?"

Everyone turns to look at Stark.

Captain America says, "Tony?"

Stark looks pissed. "How the hell should I know? As far as I know, Leung is--was--exactly what he appeared to be--a finance guy with a taste for the high life since his divorce. Pepper cleaned house after," the pause is only noticeable because Jason's paying such close attention, "Afghanistan. We got rid of everybody who didn't pass the smell test--Pepper's, not mine."

"We'll look into him," Coulson says.

"Maybe it wasn't about him at all," says Captain America. "You weren't at this event, Tony, but whoever did this knew you would show up if something happened to one of your people." He cocks his head. "Why weren't you at this event? I thought they were giving you an award for something."

"Like most people who aren't clinically insane, I try to avoid Gotham," Stark says.

"Batman doesn't like him," Jason says at the same time. They turn to look at him and he shrugs. "Of course, he doesn't like me much either, so it's not a real exclusive club."

"You think I care what that nutjob thinks of me?" Stark asks.

"Yeah," Jason answers. "I think you do." His hands curl into fists and he forces them to unclench. "I recognize the symptoms."

Oracle's voice in his ear is sharp. "Stay on task, J."

He huffs out a calming breath. "Anyway, I've got an appointment with some meth dealers over in Robbinsville, but let Oracle know if you need any more help. I'm available to consult and my rates are reasonable."

He leaps out of the van and takes off down the block; some of the SHIELD agents shout, but Coulson calls them off. Jason grabs a hanging fire escape, making for the rooftops on the way to Robbinsville. He's going to need to beat up a few more assholes before he's ready to deal with Dick and the brat.

*

3.

It's just starting to get light out when Jason finally swings by the cave. Babs is ensconced in front of the monitors, and Steph and Cass are perched on chairs, already showered and eating cereal in some kind of Batgirl conclave. He doesn't know them--well, he's done his research, and he's pretty sure Barbara's warned them about him--but he nods in greeting and Steph smiles and waves in return. He'll have to look into cultivating the newest Batgirl; they have more in common than he expected. He's still not sure how he feels about that. And he doesn't want to piss off Cass, and rumor has it that they're tight. As much as it pains him to admit, she's the most lethal member of the family, and there are things she could teach him, if he can get close enough to thaw her out.

"Ladies," he says with a bow, tossing his helmet on a table covered with various pieces of equipment and sprawling out in one of the uncomfortable chairs beside it.

"Morning," Steph says, giving him a smile that actually looks genuine. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"You, too," he answers, surprising himself (and them, probably) by meaning it. He nods at Cass, who holds his gaze for a long, assessing moment before she nods back. He relaxes just a little, then, and looks around the cave, which has changed a bit since the last time he was there. The dinosaur and the penny still loom large, but the memorial case is--He decides he doesn't want to know where it is, though he's pretty sure Babs moved it. "We should have lunch sometime."

Before either of them can answer, Babs says, "You can coffee klatch later. We have work to do."

"All work and no play," he starts, but she flicks a spitball at him that hits him right between the eyes. "I stand corrected. Or I would, if I were standing."

"You still talk as much as ever," she says, and her smile is genuine too, and her eyes are amused behind her glasses.

"Only way to get a word in edgewise around here," he says, earning a soft laugh from Dick, who's just slipped in with the new kid. Still weird hearing laughter from underneath the cowl. He can't remember the last time he heard Bruce laugh, though he knows he must have. He pushes that thought aside. "Hey, Dickie-bird. It's been a while." He takes a moment to catalogue the changes in the suit since Dick's been wearing it.

Dick pushes the cowl back and smiles, and Jason kind of hates that he smiles back automatically, that Dick can still have that effect. Things have been less tense lately, but that doesn't mean he wants to make it easy. Even if it's not really Dick he's still angry with.

"Thanks for coming, Jay."

"I don't want this guy hanging around Gotham any more than you do, and I especially don't want SHIELD getting all up in my business." He cocks his head. "Except for the Black Widow. She could--"

Babs hits him with another spitball. "Saving the fangirling for later."

Tim arrives, and asks, "Did I miss anything?"

Jason takes a moment to think about how much better he looked in the Red Robin costume when it was his. The kid is filling out, but he's still short. Aside from Damian, who's probably going to be as big as his father, the only one shorter than Tim is Cass, and she definitely falls into the little but deadly category.

"Just your growth spurt, Tiny Tim." Tim's mouth tightens but he doesn't respond in kind. Since Babs and Dick are both glaring at him now, Jason drops it. "Nope." He pops the "p" obnoxiously and now Tim's mouth twitches in what might be amusement. "But tell me if you recognize this guy from your recent run-in with the League."

Babs cues up the video on the big monitors, and they all watch the Winter Soldier run across the rooftops for thirty seconds.

"No," Tim says, cocking his head thoughtfully as he watches the footage. "He wasn't one of the operatives I dealt with."

"Can you think of a reason Ra's would target Stark Industries?" Dick asks, leaning a hip against the table next to where Jason's sitting. He smells of sweat and smoke.

He looks at Tim, and Tim shrugs. "The whole clean energy thing might be pissing him off. He might see it as muscling in on his territory. You never can tell with Ra's, though."

Damian makes a small noise, like he's grinding his teeth, but he stops when Dick squeezes his shoulder.

"I don't think Ra's is running him," Jason says. They all turn to look at him again. "He was one of Talia's pets when I met him."

"Did she hire him out?" Tim asks. "Because if this was a contract job, we might be able to trace it through the bank records." Babs gives him a considering look and he shrugs. "I still have some undiscovered back doors into their network."

"I don't know," Jason admits slowly. "She had him training me." He doesn't add what for and nobody asks; the answer is pretty obvious and they're all at least as smart as he is. "There wasn't a lot of personal chitchat."

"Something's not right," Cass says. "The way he moves--" She wrinkles her nose, and then shakes her head. "I would need to see more to say what exactly."

Jason glances over at her. "The arm?"

"No," she answers, then immediately backtracks. "I don't think so. I will try to recall where I've seen it before."

"If this is League business, Mother won't speak to you about it, but she might give me some answers," Damian says. "I will call her."

Jason opens his mouth and closes it. There was a time when he'd wanted to hurt the kid and would have been willing to use Talia to do it, but he can't find it in himself now. He knows what it's like to be betrayed by a parent. "Why don't we save that until we know more?"

"Do you recognize him?" Dick asks.

"Only the name." Damian's mouth twists. "Ubu used to tell me stories, but I thought they were simply teaching examples. It seemed unlikely that one man could have accomplished all that the Winter Soldier reputedly has."

"It could be a code name used by multiple operatives," Babs says, always looking for the most logical answer.

Damian sucks his teeth, not deigning to reply to that, but not able to disagree, either.

"It could be one man who has access to a Lazarus Pit," Jason says. Babs and Dick both glare again but he just shrugs. It's kind of soothing, actually, in its familiarity. "Someone had to say it."

Damian's frown only gets bigger. "Yes."

Jason's smile is all teeth. "Don't worry, Brat Wonder, I'm not looking for another dip."

"The pit's effects are capricious," Damian says, squaring his shoulders and sounding like a mini-Bruce, even though his accent is more Eton than Gotham. Alfred's continuing influence, no doubt. "An operative who was repeatedly exposed would likely not be able to carry out the work the Winter Soldier has with such precision over such a long period of time."

"But there's no reason to believe he was," Steph says, tapping her spoon against her now-empty cereal bowl. Jason had almost forgotten she was there. "Repeatedly exposed, I mean. Didn't you say the Black Widow confirmed his existence?" Jason nods. "Maybe he came out of whatever program produced her." She takes a sip of coffee. "Both the Nazis and the Russians attempted to recreate the super soldier serum. Maybe the Russians were successful." They all stare at her for a moment and she flushes. "What? I actually pay attention in class, you know. And also, I'm so jealous you met both Captain America and the Black Widow. Tim never introduces me to anybody cool."

"Hey." But Tim's tone is mild and he looks more pleased than not when Steph shoves him lightly and he bumps her back. Jason isn't sure he wants to know what those two are up to, and he doesn't have time now to find out.

"But also, you said he has a robot arm," Steph continues. She looks at Damian. "Wouldn't the pit have made him regrow a missing limb?"

"I don't know," he grumbles, clearly unhappy at being caught without an answer.

"There are too many things we don't know right now," Dick says.

"I'm going to keep following the money," Babs says. "See if that gets us anywhere."

"And also keep tabs on SHIELD?" Dick asks with a grin.

She nods. "And also keep tabs on SHIELD."

"Should I be jealous of Coulson?" Jason asks. "You never play Words with Friends with me." It's only after the words are out of his mouth that he realizes what he's set himself up for, but Babs, for once, lets him off easy.

"I've always thought of you as more the Chutes and Ladders type," she says, "but if you're looking for a spanking, I can provide that."

"Ooh, kinky."

She just raises an eyebrow and turns back to her monitors. The rest of them take the hint.

"Hey," Dick says to Jason as they all gather themselves up to leave, "Alfred's going to make pancakes, so why don't you stick around? We probably have some clothes that'll fit, if you want to shower first."

Jason thinks about slogging back to his current apartment and eating cold cereal and instant coffee for breakfast. He blows out an explosive breath and forces his shoulders to relax. "Okay," he says. "Okay."

*

4.

"As excellent as ever, Alfie," Jason says, pushing his plate away and leaning back with a loud burp that gets the back of his head slapped by Steph. It's surprisingly familiar and friendly, considering they've only just met. So much for his fearsome reputation. "'Scuse me."

Alfred smiles. "I appreciate the compliment, Master Jason. Now, do tell us all about Captain America. As a boy, I followed his exploits during the war."

"He kept Stark in line, which was the part I appreciated." Jason shrugs. "He was younger than I expected."

"He wasn't much older than Master Richard is now when his plane went down," Alfred says. He turns to Dick. "I believe your comics are still up in your old room."

Dick's eyes light up. "They were one of the few things I brought with me from the circus. They were my dad's." He looks wistful for a second and Jason realizes yet again how easy it is to forget that Dick's got as much tragedy in his past as the rest of them. "I think we have all his movies, too. We should watch them."

Damian sniffs disdainfully but doesn't argue, which is how they end up sprawled on the floor and the sofa in the living room, watching Captain America's propaganda films from World War II.

Jason's eyes are starting to get heavy and he wonders if they'd allow him to stay if he fell asleep when the movie changes from cheesy fake propaganda to newsreel footage of Cap and the Howling Commandos. The narrator's voice is sharp and nasal, staccato as the rhythm of a tommy gun, but Jason would've been able to sleep through it if it hadn't been for the face on the screen.

"Holy shit."

He ignores Alfred's murmured, "Language, Master Jason," and scrambles for the remote so he can rewind and watch again in slow motion.

"That's him. Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier." Captain America is beaming at Bucky Barnes across the hood of a jeep and Barnes beams right back, his face more animated in those few moments than it was the entire time Jason knew the Winter Soldier, but still the same face.

He appreciates that after a brief round of that's impossibles (nobody actually comes out and says crazy, though Jason's pretty sure they're thinking it), they all troop back down to the cave (even Alfred joins them this time), where Babs can do a comparison of the newsreel footage of Barnes and the few seconds of video Jason managed to capture earlier, which is mostly useless because his face is covered.

"Is there any other footage of the Winter Soldier?" Steph asks.

Babs huffs and brings up everything she can find, mostly grainy black and white security video from the eighties, where the Winter Soldier is a black smudge with a gun and a metal arm.

"He's the right height at least," Steph says, squinting at the screens.

"Winter Soldier is bulkier," Cass says.

"Either way, nice shoulders," Steph replies.

Damian lets out a small growl that makes Jason laugh. "He's a handsome fellow, I agree," he says, "but if he was the recipient of some sort of Russian knockoff super soldier serum, that'd account for the extra bulk." He glances at Cass. "What about making him move differently?"

She shakes her head in a way that isn't definitely a no, but isn't a yes either. "Could be."

"They would have had to graft metal to his spine and collarbone to support the arm," Tim says. "Could that account for it, Cass?"

"Yes. Or maybe he's," she bites her lip and furrows her forehead as if looking for the right words, "not himself?"

Jason swings around to stare at her for a long moment. "You're a genius, little sister. If he's a clone or he's been brainwashed, that would explain why he doesn't remember me."

"Same age as you," Cass says, but she's grinning and he figures he's forgiven. She looks at Tim. "Do they have the technology?"

"Obviously, the technology exists," Tim says, "and Talia certainly could afford to buy it. Or the people who know how to implement it. Clones are tricky, though." He purses his lips and drops his gaze to the floor. "They have a tendency to degrade rapidly, even over a single generation."

Dick puts a hand on Tim's shoulder and Tim gives him a small, furtive smile. Dick says, "So probably not someone who could carry out these kinds of missions over such a long period of time. That leaves us with magic," which makes all of them frown, "brainwashing--"

"Mother doesn't brainwash people," Damian bursts out. They all stare at him incredulously for a long moment. His face crumples for a second and then smoothes out again. "She doesn't do it often." He sticks out his lower lip in a pout some people might find adorable. Jason's not one of them. "It's resource intensive. Fear and money are much better motivators."

So Dick puts his other hand on Damian's shoulder and continues, "Or the Lazarus Pit."

"Or a little from column A and a little from column B," Jason says with a frown and a low whistle. "That's some fucked up shit, even for the League."

Not even Alfred comments on his language.

Damian shakes off Dick's hand and stalks over to the training mats, where he begins going through a series of katas. Dick and Steph have some kind of conversation with their eyebrows, and then Steph follows the brat.

"Talia's in Bangkok," Babs says, her voice unnervingly neutral. "Do you want to give her a call?"

Jason hasn't spoken with Talia in months--he's not sure if they've had a falling out or if they're both just really busy--and he's not sure this is the right time to break that silence. "I didn't realize you had her number."

"Of course we keep an eye on her," Dick says, glancing over at where Damian is now methodically taking apart a training dummy while Steph heckles him. "I didn't know you two were close."

Once again, Jason keeps his mouth shut about how close, but this time, it's because he knows it'll make Dick think less of him. Dick's never liked Talia, not even before she tried to kill him. It's another thing he chooses to blame on Bruce, though. They're all weird about Bruce in their own ways, and Jason has been trying to do the smart thing and stop thinking about it all the time.

"She's the one who--found me," Jason says. "She took care of me after--After." Dick gives him one of those stupidly sympathetic looks, but doesn't squeeze his shoulder. He probably thinks Jason would just shake it off. Jason thinks he would, too. Probably. "I don't want to give her a heads up if she's involved," he finally says. "Any word on the SUV he jumped into?"

"Abandoned at Gotham International," Babs says. "I'm piggybacking on Jarvis's--Stark's AI--search of private aircraft flight plans to see if anything pings, since I doubt he can get that arm onto a commercial flight." She swivels around in her chair and pins Jason with a look. "The SHIELD agents have set up at the hotel. Maybe someone should pay Captain Rogers a visit?"

Jason lets out a strangled laugh that sounds a little too much like a sob to be comfortable. "Yeah, I can see that going well."

"I can do it," Dick says.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tim replies. "Not until we know more. Let me talk to a couple of my STAR Labs contacts. Dick, you should call Zatanna, see what the word is on the magical circuit." He doesn't look at Jason. "No need to get Bruce involved yet, either."

Jason's hands curl into fists and he forces them open. "I'll talk to the good captain if someone has to," he says, "but I agree with Tiny Tim that we should wait and confirm the ID first."

Tim still doesn't look at Jason when he flips him off, but at least this time Jason's huff of laughter doesn't feel like it's being torn out of his chest.

*

5.

Jason's apartment looks small and squalid after spending time at the manor, which is yet another reason he avoids the place. None of his alarms or traps have been tripped, but the Black Widow is sitting at his kitchen table when he walks in and turns on the lights.

He slathers on the fake enthusiasm in his tone. "If I knew you were coming, I'd have baked a cake."

"No need, Mr. Willis. Or should I say, Mr. Hood?"

"I'd let you call me Red," he answers, grinning. At least his paper trail seems to be holding up. Jason Peter Todd, Bruce Wayne's adopted son, is dead, and Jason Todd Peterson is a tax-paying citizen of Gotham City with no connection to Batman or Bruce Wayne; JT Willis is a low-level thug with a secret identity, and even if it's a little crowded in Jason's head sometimes, there's no need for SHIELD to know anything different.

Her answering smile is small and amused. "Charming." She taps her fingertips on the scratched surface of the table. Her nails are short, neatly trimmed, and painted a surprisingly sedate pink. "So how is it you managed to survive the Winter Soldier?"

He leans against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not one to kiss and tell."

She tilts her head curiously and raises an eyebrow. "There was kissing?"

Jason flutters his lashes. "He is kind of dreamy, what with the metal arm and all the brooding."

"I can see how that would be intriguing," she says. She looks relaxed but Jason has no doubt she could be on him in a flash; he's bigger and stronger, unless she's also got some variation of the super soldier serum, but he knows she'd be faster, and she's loaded for bear. Of course, so's he.

"Jealous?" he asks archly.

"Well, I did see him first, but no. Those days are gone." She leans forward now, elbows on the table. "I owe him a debt, and I'd like to pay it back."

His instincts tell him this sincerity is just as much a show as her earlier nonchalance, even if it is genuine. "Is it the kind of debt you repay with two bullets to the back of the head?"

"Why do you care?"

"I'm the only one I allow to drop bodies here in dear old Gotham," he says. "It's less confusing that way."

"Even when they're working for the League of Assassins?"

"Oh, especially then." He tips his head in her direction. "The Red Hood is a full-service vigilante."

"So I've heard."

He grins again and puts a hand over his heart. "You looked me up. Gosh, I'm flattered."

"You seem to be doing all right here, but this is bigger than Gotham."

Which means she either doesn't know about his connection to Talia, or she wants him to think that. His head is starting to hurt. He can do the planning and the legwork required of detective work--Bruce and Babs had made sure of that a long time ago--but the only time he enjoys mind games is when he's sure he'll be the winner.

"Yeah, I'm the one who told you that. So quid pro quo, Clarice. What is it you want with him?" If they knew he was Barnes's clone (or whatever), it'd be Captain America here, so what angle is she playing? He thinks about what Steph had said earlier. "You two come up together in the KGB or something? Tragic Russian sweethearts?" He hums the theme from Doctor Zhivago. Bruce hadn't watched movies with him often, but they'd sat through a whole roster of Oscar winners one time when Jason had had the flu, and he'd absorbed them eagerly and wholly. "That would explain the accent."

Her eyes narrow so quickly before widening into a perfect show of innocence that he thinks maybe he imagined it. "Something like that." Her face softens just a bit before she drops her gaze. "He was kind to me, and I left him behind when I defected."

Jason knows he's being played, knows what her skill set is and many of the ways it can be deployed, and he still feels pangs of sympathy for her sob story. "Okay, let's say that there's some truth to that," he says. "Doesn't explain why you're here with me instead of jetting off to wherever to find him." This time, his grin is more like baring his teeth. "Unless you're not here strictly on business."

"Alas," she says, her voice taking on a mocking edge, "I have no time for pleasure on this trip, Mr. Willis. Have a good day."

He walks her to the door just to make sure that she's really gone, and then sweeps the whole place for bugs. He finds two that aren't Barbara's, and he's pretty sure there are more, but his equipment isn't sophisticated enough to find them. Damn Stark and his cutting edge technology. Jason would give a lot to get his hands on some of it.

Then he heads for the rooftops, waiting until he's perched on the roof of a nearby building before he contacts Babs. "You get all that?"

"Yeah." She sounds distracted, and he remembers that she runs ops for the League all over the world, so it might be mid-morning in Gotham, but it's crime-time somewhere else. (Actually, he's pretty sure it's always crime-time in Gotham, but it's mostly white-collar stuff during the day.)

"Any idea why I was blessed with a visit?"

Babs makes a tsking noise. "You're an unknown variable. She probably just wants to feel you out."

"I'd let her feel me up anytime," he says automatically. "She wouldn't even have to ask nicely."

Babs snorts. "Get some sleep, J."

"Yes, ma'am."

He swings back into his apartment and sacks out on the couch. He's not great at sleeping--his nightmares are many and varied, and sometimes he wakes up and can't move, sure he's still in his coffin with six feet of earth pressing down on top of him--but today he's tired enough to drop off pretty quickly, one arm draped over his face to keep out the gray daylight.

He's slept for a couple of hours when the sound of the phone ringing startles him awake. He fumbles for it, gasps out a hoarse, "Yeah?" when he finally finds it.

"You sound terrible," Talia says briskly. "I'm going to email you a recipe for some herbal tea. Alfred can make it for you."

"I'm fine," he says, letting his confusion come out as irritation, since he never knows how to handle it when she gets motherly with him. "Just woke up."

"You should take better care of yourself."

He makes a humming sound that could be taken for agreement, and then asks, "How are you? How's Bangkok?"

"I'm well, thank you, and Bangkok was still standing when I left this morning." She sounds approving, though whether that's of his manners or the idea that he's kept track of her, he doesn't know. "I've missed our little chats." She doesn't give him a chance to reciprocate; maybe she knows he won't, even though he has missed her. "Unfortunately, this is more in the way of a business call."

"Oh?"

"An old friend was recently in Gotham. I wondered if you had a chance to catch up with him?"

"My calendar's pretty booked," he answers warily. "Should I worry about offending him if I run into him?"

"Not on my account," she says. "He seems to be freelancing."

"Is that a problem?"

"It's highly unusual in this case." Her voice is tight with secrets. Jason waits to see if she'll let any of them loose. "While other operatives have been known to accept outside jobs with payment coming to the League, it's outside this asset's...purview."

Jason stills, letting the facts realign in his brain. "Can you hold on a second?"

Talia is silent for a long moment, then, "Yes."

He mutes that phone and pulls out one of his burners. "Babs, any dirt on Leung?"

"I've tracked a number of suspiciously large payments into his private account back to a shell corporation that may be a front for HYDRA, but nothing concrete. What do you know?"

"Talia's on the other line. She says she wasn't aware of the job, and that this particular operative is not used for non-League work."

"HYDRA's infiltrated the League?"

"It sounds like it." Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. "I didn't even know they were still a thing."

"Cut off one head," Babs says. He can hear the shrug in her voice. "This world's fertile ground for assholes."

He growls low in his throat. He'll cut some fucking heads off, and like Hercules, he'll cauterize the stumps so they can't grow back. He misses killing drug dealers. Life is a lot simpler when he's clearing corners.

"Let me get back to her and I'll fill you in after."

"No need," Babs says.

"Can't you even let me pretend you're not listening in on all my phone calls?"

"It's a sign of affection, Jay."

"And you all think I'm delusional?" But he can't be angry at it when it's the simple truth in their weird, fucked up family. Her laugh lingers in his ear after she hangs up, and then he grabs the other phone and unmutes it. "Still there?"

"Of course."

"How do you feel about HYDRA?"

"Is that some sort of joke?"

"Do I sound like I'm joking?"

There's another long silence. Finally, Talia says, "While our interests have aligned at times, it's been many years since that happened. Why?"

Jason swallows down angry remarks about teaming up with Nazis, though a little disdain seeps in around the edges of his tone. "The target was apparently on their payroll."

"I see."

Jason has no doubt that she sees quite a bit more than he does at the moment. "Don't play me on this one, Talia."

"No," she says, "I don't think that will be necessary. I'll be on a plane to Prague for a few hours, but let me know if you find anything else. I'll give you a call when I land if I don't hear from you."

He hums noncommittally again. Maybe he should just let her root out whoever is behind this. Then he thinks about the possibility that the Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes, and knows he can't sit this one out. "I'll be in touch," he says, promising nothing.

"Give my love to Damian."

"Yeah," he says, having absolutely no intention of telling the brat about the call unless he has to.

Jason tosses both phones onto the crate serving as an end table and sinks back down onto the couch. He doesn't think he can go back to sleep, but he's not sure what to do next. He works out for about an hour and then heats up some leftover chicken chow fun for lunch. Then he cleans his guns. He might live in a shitty apartment with free-cycled furniture, but he's meticulous about his weapons and tools. He has Bruce to thank for that, and maybe someday he actually will. Probably not any time soon, though, even if Bruce hadn't fucked off to Europe with Selina.

He takes out Mrs. Gantry's recycling and scares off a would-be mugger without breaking a sweat and finds himself confronting the Gotham Gazette's crossword in annoyance when his phone rings again. "Cap and Widow are on the move," Babs says. "Get yourself to the airport."

"Goodwin or Gotham International?"

"Goodwin. You need a lift?"

"No, I'm good." The saddlebags on his bike are always packed and ready to go, and he weaves in and out of the late afternoon rush. "Am I looking for a commercial flight or one of those special SHIELD planes?" he asks once he's on the entrance ramp to the airport.

"Stark's private jet," she says. "It's not far from the Wayne Aerospace hangar."

"Goddamn rich motherfuckers," he mutters.

She laughs and then stops abruptly. "Tim's sending you some files he found on the League's servers," she tells him. "It's not easy reading, but you should probably share it with them when you find them."

"You mean after I convince them to let me on their private jet?"

"I think the files will be very convincing." She pauses, and he can practically hear her trying to decide what to tell him. "Maybe share the information with the Widow first. Let her make the decision about showing it to Captain America."

"O--"

"It's bad, J. Trust me."

He parks the bike in Bruce's spot at the Wayne Aerospace terminal and slings a bag over his shoulder. "Yeah," he says when he's done, pretending it doesn't hurt a little (but in a good way) to admit. "Okay."

"And," she hesitates, which is completely unlike her, at least with him, "be wary of SHIELD, okay? Captain America's on the level, and if he trusts the Widow, then I'll defer to his judgement for now, but looking at some of these files, I don't think the League's the only place HYDRA's infiltrated."

"Shit."

"Yeah." Her voice is wry. "I think that's why they're using Stark's jet."

"But didn't Stark found SHIELD?"

"Stark's father," she corrects him, and okay, that does make a world of difference. "He's been dead a long time, J. And no matter what good intentions he might have started with..."

"Things get fucked up."

"Yes."

No one knows that better than Jason. He's the king of fucking up with good intentions. "All right, O. I'm here."

"Be careful."

He has no clever response for that today.

He finds the Stark Industries jet easily enough--the crew is scurrying around, getting it ready, and he ignores the ones who give him strange looks, too sickly fascinated by the information Tim's found about the Winter Soldier. Jesus fuck. Maybe being beaten to death, blown up by the Joker, and then crawling out of his own grave wasn't the worst possible thing that could have happened to him. He's got a pretty strong stomach after all of that, and he still feels a little queasy while he's reading.

A black sedan pulls up and Captain America and the Black Widow climb out of it. They look younger in civilian clothes, and Jason realizes they're not that much older than him, somewhere between Barbara and Dick in age, and it makes him sad, which makes him angry all over again. Which is good, because he'd rather be angry. It lends a certain clarity to his thought processes.

The Widow greets him with, "Mr. Willis. What a surprise."

"A pleasant one, I hope," he answers, though he can feel that his smile is much too sharp for this kind of banter.

"That all depends," she says.

The Captain frowns at him and then at the jet. "Natasha?"

"You met Mr. Willis last night," she says.

"I was the one in the mask," Jason clarifies. What the fuck. It's not like she doesn't already know.

"The Red Hood," Captain America says, his nose crinkling as if the words taste funny.

"Don't worry," Jason says. "Not at all affiliated with the Red Skull, or HYDRA, though I'm afraid the people who wanted Mr. Leung dead might have been."

"HYDRA is defunct," Cap says, his jaw tightening. Jason honestly feels bad for him. He knows what it's like to come back from the dead and be disappointed, too.

"Keep talking," says the Black Widow.

"Apparently this was an off-book operation," he says. "Our sources inside the League claim it was not on their behalf, or at least, they didn't get paid for it, which has made them very unhappy. It looks like Leung was working for HYDRA."

"Of course they'd say that," Captain America scoffs. "The League isn't exactly trustworthy."

"Normally I'd agree with you, but in this particular instance, I don't think they're lying."

"We don't have time for this," the Captain says. "If Tony is being targeted--"

"I don't think he is, sir," Jason says. The 'sir' just slips out, and it hangs there weirdly between them for a few seconds while he purses his lips and wishes he could take it back. "Not directly, anyway."

The Black Widow touches Cap's elbow. "Get on the plane, Steve. Let me deal with Mr. Willis."

Captain America frowns, but walks across the tarmac and up the metal staircase into the sleek jet. Everyone watches him silently until he's out of view.

The Black Widow turns back to Jason, her arms crossed over her chest and her face severe. "What kind of game are you playing?"

Jason waves his phone at her. "I have some files here that you should read, but the Cliff Notes version is that we think HYDRA snatched the Winter Soldier from the League and that they're planning some kind of splashy comeback. Leung was in their pocket but trying to climb out, which is why they killed him. We think they have moles in the League, and god knows where else." He hesitates, then, "Oracle thinks SHIELD might be compromised."

He expects the Widow to scoff at that but she doesn't. "And?"

"You knew the Winter Soldier, didn't you? That's what you said earlier."

"Yes."

"Did you know who he was before?"

She shakes her head. "There were rumors he was American, but none of us believed them. It was propaganda."

"No," Jason says. "It wasn't."

She takes his phone and swipes open the file and then looks up at him. If he hadn't been paying extremely close attention, he wouldn't have seen the way her eyes widened in surprise before she schooled her expression. Even that could be an act, he thinks, but he's willing to believe just this once that it isn't.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She starts walking towards the plane, as if expecting him to follow. He does. He rubs the back of his neck, awkward and feeling it. "Do we tell him?"

She pauses again and looks over her shoulder at him, her expression inscrutable now. "Let me think about it."

"Better you than me," he mutters and then ducks into the entrance of the plane. It's full of creamy leather seating and--"Is that a stripper pole?"

The Widow narrows her eyes at him and if he hadn't been who he was, he might have been terrified. As it is, the hair on the back of his neck prickles and he suppresses a shiver.

Cap has already strapped himself in. "Natasha?"

"Steve, this is JT Willis. He'll be joining us."

"Jason," he says, holding out a hand.

"Steve," says Captain America, and Jason's not a superhero fanboy like Dick is, but he feels a little thrill at shaking Captain America's hand and being invited to call him by name.

The Black Widow points at herself. "Agent Romanoff, but I suppose you can call me Natasha, since we have a long flight ahead of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Prague."

Jason really hopes Talia's not there when they land.

*

6.

Jason lets himself doze on the flight, hoping it will lead them to letting their guard down a little, and they do eventually start talking in low voices, but not about anything interesting. Apparently Stark wants them all to move in with him in his ugly tower and Cap--Steve--isn't enthusiastic about it. Jason could have told him that rich kids like to have all their toys in one place, but he keeps his mouth shut. The more annoyed Steve gets, the thicker his accent becomes, and Jason recognizes it, not just from the time he spent in New York, but because of how similar the Winter Soldier had sometimes sounded.

He's about to drift off for real when Steve says, "So why is this Red Hood guy really here?"

"His information looks legit," she replies. "The Winter Soldier--he came out of a program not unlike the one that produced me."

"Natasha--"

"We can hug and cry about my sad childhood later, Steve." Jason bets that later really means never from her dry tone. "The fact is, the Russian faction of HYDRA--"

"Leviathan?"

"That's one of their names, yes." She sounds surprised. "They attempted to distance themselves from HYDRA after the war, to work within existing power structures to reach their goals. Some of their scientists worked with Department X, which was the KGB's version of Project Rebirth."

Steve makes a small sound at that name, and Jason resists the urge to open his eyes and look at Steve's face.

Natasha continues, "They did a lot of experimenting with brainwashing and mental conditioning, in addition to trying to reproduce the super soldier serum. The Winter Soldier was an American POW on whom they perfected their techniques. He has no personality anymore. It's been wiped away over and over again, and all that's left is dedication to the mission."

"So he's the gun and we're following him back to the hand that fired him?"

Natasha sighs, probably in relief. "Yes."

"And he's going to try to stop us."

"It's likely." There's a long pause, as if she's trying to figure out what to say next. Jason holds still and continues to pretend to be sleeping. "He may not be to blame, but he has to be stopped."

"We can't capture him? Try to turn him? You said he was an American, originally."

Natasha's voice is flat, certain. "He won't break under interrogation, and we can't spend time trying. He'll have to be eliminated if he discovers us on his trail."

Jason sits up then. "That's it? You're not going to tell him the whole story?"

She doesn't seem surprised that he's awake. He wonders briefly what gave him away.

"The files you have could be fake, or altered. In fact, the whole thing could be a trap for--"

"Bucky Barnes is the Winter Soldier," Jason interrupts, overriding her. Steve jerks back in his seat like he's been hit, his face pale and shocked. Jason wonders if the Black Widow will kill him for breaking Captain America. "I might not like the guy who provided the intel very much but I know he's not HYDRA. And Oracle confirmed the files are real."

"Who did provide those files?" Natasha asks.

"Who cares?" Steve interrupts. "If it's Bucky--If--How can it be?" He shakes his head, as if realizing that's not the important question right now, and leans forward, turning an imploring look on Jason. "Tell me what you know. We have to save him."

Natasha glares at Jason and then turns to Steve (with a slightly kinder look on her face) and says, "This is exactly why I didn't tell you. It could be a trap for you, Steve."

"He still deserves to know," Jason answers.

"Whatever issues you're working out, Mr. Todd, stop involving my partner."

Jason grits his teeth and then forces himself to stop. "I don't know why you think threatening me is going to work, Agent Romanoff, but I've faced way worse than you and...survived." O's not in his ear right now, but he can hear her voice, flattened by the voice modulator, murmuring, Steady, J, stay on target just as if she were. Maybe he is crazy, but right now, he's grateful for it.

"Enough," Steve says before Natasha can level any more threats at him. "I want to see these files."

Jason calls them up on his phone and hands it over. "It's rough reading," he warns, "but it'll give you some idea of what we're dealing with."

Steve's face crumples when he sees the pictures, and again, Jason wonders if he's broken Captain America (and if that's a hanging offense), but then his lips thin and his jaw tightens and there's nothing left of that stricken look except a wrinkle between his eyebrows. He's not wearing a mask or cowl, but he's totally Captain America now instead of Steve. Jason can admire that type of compartmentalization, even if he's never been able to pull it off himself, though he had a master at it for a teacher. Natasha hands him a bottle of water when he's done and he drinks it down in three gulps.

He looks at Jason and Jason finds his shoulders straightening automatically. The corner of Steve's mouth twitches but doesn't curve into even a half-smile. Jason doesn't blame him.

Natasha looks resigned when she asks, "So what's the plan, Cap?"

"Jarvis says the plane they used made a stop in London and then continued on to Prague. They unloaded some cargo and are heading to a warehouse at these coordinates." He taps at the console and a holographic map appears in the air between them, with a blinking light to indicate the location. "Natasha and I will go in and do recon while you keep watch."

Jason frowns. "I get it, you don't trust the new guy, but--"

"We'll need eyes up high," Steve says, pointing to a spot across from the warehouse they're targeting. "How are you with a rifle?"

"How do you think I met the Winter Soldier?" he answers.

"Bucky was a sniper," Steve says. He looks down at his hands. "He was a crack shot, always had my six." He looks up again, but with a thousand yard stare Jason recognizes from his own mirror. "I left him to die once. I can't do that again."

"Steve." Natasha's voice is softer than Jason's ever heard it. "That wasn't your fault."

"I should have gone back. Should have looked for him."

"No one could have survived that fall."

"I was more concerned with revenge," Steve says, as if he hasn't heard a word she's said. "All I wanted to do was wipe HYDRA off the map for what they did to him. I was willing to die myself to do it. I thought I'd done it, and I was okay with dying." He sniffs. "If they're still around and they did this to him, and it was all for nothing, how is that not my fault?"

"Natasha's right," Jason says, his voice rough. "And I'm sure if he was here, if he was himself, he wouldn't blame you. He'd be glad he was avenged."

"But you have to face the possibility that he may not be himself," Natasha says. "And that if that's the case, we might have to stop him instead of save him."

"I don't know if I can do that." Steve shakes his head. "Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky."

"Then it's a good thing we're here," she says.

"Natasha--"

"We'll try to subdue him, Steve, but if it comes down to you or him, we're saving you."

Steve doesn't look happy about that, but he doesn't argue, either, though Jason's pretty sure he's going to do what he wants when the time comes, regardless of Natasha's attempts to protect him.

Jason hasn't decided what he's going to do if it comes down to that, but he finds himself hoping Steve gets what he wants. And then they can burn HYDRA down for good.

*

Going into battle with Captain America and the Black Widow is different from what Jason's been doing recently. He's been trying to maintain some sort of détente with the family while still keeping criminals afraid, which means falling back on Bruce's training a lot of the time, and going for the non-lethal option.

He's kind of expecting the same sort of lecture Bruce used to give him as they arm up, about how they had to be better than the bad guys, had to hurt them, but not too much, had to keep their toes just this side of the legal line in order to be allowed to keep operating, but then Natasha hands him a long case that contains a beautiful sniper rifle and he remembers that in addition to a spy, she's an assassin.

And Steve is, first and foremost, a soldier (a good one, and even so, Jason can't even think of that phrase without bitterness, but he pushes it aside for now). He watches Jason put the rifle together and says, "I know the Batman tires to hold down the body count in Gotham, and I certainly don't want a bloodbath in there, but if this is HYDRA--"

"Or the League," Natasha says

Steve nods. "Or the League, then you should do what you need to defend yourself, and us."

"Yeah," Jason says. "Okay."

The plan is pretty simple: Steve and Natasha will go in and get the lay of the land, and Jason will keep an eye out for any Johnny-come-latelies who try to crash the party. They hook him up with some sweet surveillance equipment and one of Stark's super-fancy earbuds. Babs is going to love this stuff when he brings it back to her.

Of course, it all goes to shit about five minutes in, when they get deeper into the warehouse and discover it's a League base, and there's some kind of assassin gathering going on.

All Jason needs to hear is the unexpected--and entirely unwelcome--voice of Ra's al Ghul saying, "Welcome, Captain. We've been hoping you'd arrive in time," to know that they're in the shit now.

"In time for what?" Steve asks warily.

Jason leaves the rifle and gets out his grapple gun when he notices a familiar twitch in the shadows below. He tenses, ready to spring, but the movement resolves itself into Batman's cape. Jason sucks in a quiet breath and braces for the body landing beside him.

"Catwoman," he murmurs.

"It's been a while, kid," she answers.

"What's the plan?"

"Come in on my mark." Jason's expecting Bruce's voice on comms, so he doesn't flinch, but he's going to have so many choice words for Babs when they get home. But first, they have to rescue Captain America. (If the Black Widow doesn't do it first.)

Luckily, Ra's is still monologuing. "You, Captain, will be the perfect vessel to which I will transfer my consciousness. I would have used this imperfect creature--there is no person in there to replace, anymore, and the body is almost as strong as yours--but the metal arm is an eyesore, a blot marring the perfection of the host.

"But Zola told me using it would draw you right to my door, and Captain, here you are, right on cue."

Steve looks righteously furious, his jaw clenched and his forehead furrowed, and he sounds just like the movies when he says, "You won't get away with this."

"Wait until they've started the ritual," Jason says. "Ra's will be vulnerable then."

Selina shoots him a skeptical look, but no one contradicts him. They get into position while Ra's talks, slipping through the warehouse to the cavernous room where he's holding court. Steve is being held at gunpoint by a semi-circle of goons on Ra's' left side, and the Winter Soldier stands on the right, looking blank. Talia's behind him, frowning.

Jason hasn't worked with Bruce in a while, but he can still find him in the shadows above. He can't make out Widow at all, though he knows she's around somewhere. The four of them should be more than a match for the assassins, especially if they can get Steve free, though Jason's not sure he won't go right for the Winter Soldier if he gets the chance. He probably thinks he can hug the guy into submission or something. (Jason pretends he's cynical enough to not wish that would work.)

Jason very carefully pays no attention to the Lazarus Pit that's glowing and bubbling behind Ra's. He doesn't know if it really did steal pieces of his soul, but it definitely gave him a lifetime's worth of nightmares, in addition to more than occasional uncertainty about his mental health.

Ra's finally stops talking and after a brief moment of silence, a small woman in a hooded black robe lights some incense sticks and starts chanting. Jason thinks it might be Hungarian, but he's not sure--he's always been better at Romance languages.

"The incense is mildly hallucinogenic," he notes, recognizing the scent.

"Then we'd better move," Bruce answers. "Now."

Jason would like to say he didn't move as soon as he heard the whip-crack of Bruce's voice, but that would be a lie. He doesn't have time to think about it, though, since he's got assassins to beat up.

As soon as the guns are off him, Steve grabs his shield, and then dives for the Winter Soldier, who seems to think he's being attacked. They start fighting, and when the melee brings Jason close to them, he can hear Steve pleading with the soldier to remember. The soldier looks caught somewhere between terror and confusion under this onslaught of emotional manipulation, but Jason doesn't have time to sympathize.

Natasha has silenced the chanting woman and she and Selina are handling the reinforcements that come bursting in the door. Bruce and Ra's are sniping at each other while they fight, and it's so ridiculously familiar that Jason can't help but grin as he knocks out another assassin, and then ducks so Talia can put the one behind him down.

"You should not have come," she says to him, "but I'm glad you did." She wrinkles her nose. "Perhaps bringing Catwoman and the Black Widow was overkill."

"Captain America brought the Widow," he says. "I just tagged along." No need to antagonize her by mentioning that Selina's been traveling with Bruce.

There's enough of a lull that they can look to where Steve is having absolutely no success in convincing the Winter Soldier that he's Bucky Barnes, and Jason says, "It's been fun, Talia, but I'd leave before he realizes you knew who the Winter Soldier was before HYDRA got hold of him."

"Give my love to Damian," she says with a philosophical shrug, and slips out one of the back entrances. Jason doesn't try to stop her.

The fighting is winding down now. Ra's has disappeared as well, and Bruce and Selina are mopping up the remaining assassins with Natasha, who argues between punches for putting bullets into each of them. Bruce ignores her but Jason can tell he wants to lecture by the set of his jaw.

Steve's still pleading with the Winter Soldier to remember their lifelong friendship as they grapple, rolling around on the floor like a pair of scrapping schoolboys instead of the world class super soldiers they're supposed to be. It happens so quickly that Jason's barely able to get his hands on Steve to haul him back when the Winter Soldier goes over the edge into the Lazarus Pit with a startled yelp.

"Get him out," Jason yells.

Steve throws himself flat along the edge of the Pit and grabs onto the metal hand that rises from the steaming pool. Jason grabs on as well, and together they pull the Winter Soldier out of the roiling water.

His eyes are wide and terrified and his voice is small and broken when he says, "Steve?"

"Bucky, oh my god, Bucky," Steve answers, pulling him into an enveloping hug. Jason looks away from the raw emotion he glimpses on Steve's face before he buries it against Bucky's shoulder.

"Is that really Bucky Barnes?" Bruce asks softly. He's suddenly standing at Jason's side.

"Yeah."

Bruce gives Jason's shoulder a firm squeeze. "Good work, Jason." His voice is warm and proud, and Jason hates how much it pleases him. "You'll have to keep an eye on Barnes," Bruce says to Natasha. "The Pit can heal devastating injuries, but it can also have some terrible side effects."

"We'll take care of him," she answers, her tone surprisingly fond, and Jason wonders how much of the story she told him was true.

"It's time to go home," Bruce says, his hand still on Jason's shoulder.

Jason holds a hand out to Natasha, who takes it this time. "It's been fun."

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" she says, but she's smiling.

He laughs. "It's been said. And if you need help putting your own house in order," he puts a hand over his heart and gives her a little bow, "the Red Hood is a full-service vigilante."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Thanks," Steve says, shaking all their hands, his other arm securely around Barnes's waist. Selina purrs at him and he blushes. Barnes won't look at any of them, and Jason remembers how that feels, to suddenly be thrust back into the world after not being in it for a long time.

"You need anything," he says softly, "you know where to find me."

"Yeah," Steve says earnestly. "We do."

"Come on," Bruce says, and his hand moves to the nape of Jason's neck. Jason's cheeks heat and he thinks he might be blushing. He hasn't been the recipient of so much parental approval since--well, possibly ever. He knows it won't last, but he's going to bask in it while he can.

end

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