Dick stared, unseeingly, at the grave. The gaping hole seemed to stretch out before him, like a mouth waiting to be filled, filled with something that he didn't want to think about, that he couldn't think about. He knew how this ended, everyone there did; after all, it was inevitable, it was the only reason that they were there at all: to bury the past, to say their goodbyes. But that didn't make it any easier. It never did, it couldn't. Some things just never got any easier to handle and a small part of him was grateful that this was one of them. He didn't know how he'd cope to find that death had suddenly become something he was numb to.

Beside him, Wally shifted uncomfortably and Dick found himself looking that way, eager to distract himself from the yawning mouth in the ground, from the memories. From the fact that he might have been able to stop this.

'You good?' Wally asked softly, concern written all over his face. He didn't like staying still for this long, Dick knew that, and he noticed that even standing there Wally was tapping his leg gently.

'No,' he admitted, glancing around at the other funeral goers. Sadness was obvious behind every expression; people forced to think about a life lost too soon. Barely anyone there had actually known Jason though; they were there to show their faces, to be seen in their shared sympathy for Bruce. Some of them were only there for the publicity. Most probably they all thought that Jason had caused this, that he'd managed to irritate the wrong people and it was all his own fault. There'd been no formal explanation for it all, but the rumours were rife, as always with Gotham and it's elite.

How many of them were there simply for the gossip? To say that they'd been there in the hopes that it might somehow make them feel better, to absolve them of the decision made about Robin's fate.

Wally gave his shoulder a squeeze, brought Dick out of his observations, the ones he made without even thinking. Old habits never seemed to fade, not that he'd really expected them to. They were a distraction he was grateful for at the moment.

'I should've been there, Wal,' he said in a small voice, finally verbalising the thought that had been circling his head since the news broke. Since Bruce had broken their silence and reached out to him. 'If I'd've stayed –'

'We might've been burying you,' Wally told him, the raw emotion obvious behind his voice despite how hard he was trying to keep it steady.

The priest was saying something but Dick couldn't hear it. Blood thrummed in his ears. There was a ringing that he couldn't ignore, as if set on by the implication.

None of this could be happening. Jason should have been with them, complaining about Tim as his new shadow. About Alfred only cooking healthy food. About the fact that A.J. kept nicking his stuff just to get a rise out of him. About Teddy worrying too much. He should have been the pessimist, the complainer, but the one always ready to watch their backs at a moment's notice. A small part of Dick was still half expecting the young man to saunter over to them from the trees, scowling because they all really believed that someone, the Joker no less, would get the better of him.

Even as the casket was lowered into the ground Dick held onto the hope that the last thought brought with it. As he let go of a handful of dirt, murmuring a goodbye, he clung to the possibility that they were all being played. That this was some sick training thing that Bruce had devised to ensure that Tim knew exactly what he was letting himself in for, aside from all the training. But it never happened.

Slowly, people peeled away from the funeral, sharing their condolences with Bruce, polite comments shared with Dick and Tim. All the while Alfred stood sentry over them, as if ready to defend his American boys. Teddy stood nearby as well, but his attention was constantly moving, as if he were worried that someone might suddenly attack them while their guard was down. As if searching for someone they knew wasn't going to turn up.

'I see A.J.'s not here,' noted Wally when it was just the two of them by the graveside, as Bruce guided Tim away by the shoulder. Both of them had blank looks behind their eyes that broke Dick's heart. Somehow it almost hurt more than if he'd seen anything else. 'Should we find her before the drinks?'

'Drinks?' he asked, the comment causing him to blink. He nodded his greeting to Teddy, who had finally moved away from the edge of everything.

'Roy's doing them,' Teddy explained, glancing over his shoulder, still hopeful that A.J., or maybe even Jason, were going to turn up. But Dick was almost certain A.J. wasn't going to turn up. She couldn't do funerals, and right then he really couldn't blame her. 'He said he wanted to give Todd a proper send off.' The words sounded odd coming from Teddy, but the attempt at an accurate impersonation was commendable.

'I think I'll pass,' said Dick, briefly glancing at the freshly covered grave. He'd honour Jason in his own way, but right now there was nothing that he could do for the younger man. There was, however, something that he could do for one his best friends, to prevent something terrible happening to her. Even as he realised that he felt the hot sting of tears, knew that if Jason were there he'd have made some harsh comment, a way of masking his genuine concern. Then again, if Jason was still there they wouldn't be having the conversation at all. 'But have a round on me.'

'I was thinking several,' said Wally, genuine humour sneaking into his tone, something Dick was more grateful for than he could put into words. 'You gonna be OK?'

Dick glanced towards Teddy, shot him a quick nod as if posing the question to him as well. 'We all will be,' he said softly before briefly glancing between the two of them and then starting out of the graveyard. 'See you at the manor,' he said over his shoulder, careful not to be too loud lest he disturb the dead.

As he walked, Dick shoved his hands into his pockets, felt the cool metal of car keys and idly wondered what would happen to Jason's things. It was a trivial thought but it was one he nurtured instead of ignored, needing something to hold onto before he was through the gates, before he forced himself to be concerned about A.J., about something in the present.

Jason had never liked sharing, so it would be in poor taste to give any of his things away really. Also, it wasn't as if Bruce couldn't just buy new things if they needed them. Then again, there was something eternally sad about keeping everything the same. As if they were simply waiting for Jason to return, even though it was impossible.

He paused as he reached the gate, hand hovering over the handle, momentarily frozen in place. He'd hoped not to attend another funeral for a long time, least of all of someone younger than himself, of someone who'd been trying to help keep the city safe. And yet here he was, doing exactly that.

He closed his eyes, wetted his lips, and murmured, 'Goodbye brother,' before all but marching out of the graveyard, as if, for once, he might somehow be able to outrun the hurt.

***

'Sparky, you there?' Teddy's voice was clear through the communicator. A.J. could hear the waver to his voice, knew that the decision had been made. But even that didn't deter her. There had to be something that they could do, some way of making this all right. She crouched a little more, hugged the wall a little tighter. All it really meant was the window of opportunity was smaller. They could do this. They had to try. 'Sparky?!'

'Seriously, TW, what if I had to be silent?' she whispered irritably, peeking around the corner.

When she thought about it the whole warehouse had been far too quiet. She didn't like it, but she also knew that she couldn't give in to worries like that. Sure, she could listen to and utilise them, but she couldn't let them rule her. She needed to make sure that Jason was OK. Not just because she'd assured Dick he'd be fine – because when Richard Grayson was on holiday he still checked local papers, still made sure that the city he called home was safe, argument or no argument with Bruce – but Jason was only involved because she'd spotted him. She'd encouraged him to make use of himself rather than simply trying to steal the Batmobile's hubcaps. She owed it to him to do everything she could to get him out of this. Whatever the city had decided.

Teddy was quiet, tension seemed to build, even over the line.

So it wasn't good news, she decided as she edged around the crate, but they'd expected that. What they'd prepared for. After all, when it came to the Joker most people took the route of self-preservation. It made sense, especially given the reputation most Gotham villains had in general, not just him.

Large doors were wheeled open opposite her.

A.J. was vaguely aware of Teddy talking, of him saying every variation of her name as light spilled into the section of warehouse she was standing in. But whatever else he said was completely lost. Blood thrummed in her ears. Her heart sank through the floor. She suddenly felt completely sapped of energy.

Batman was silhouetted in the light, an ever imposing figure made to look like he'd been deflated somehow. The limp figure in his arms slowly came into focus, as she caught sight –

A.J. punched the bag hard, forcing the memories away. The pain of the unrefined punch rippled up her arm, jolted her elbow. Poor technique. But that was the point. She'd wanted to feel it, needed to even.

Another hit to keep the memories at bay, the other hand this time. Yet still it didn't do enough to actually distract her from everything that had happened, from the fact that she hadn't been able to build up the courage to go to the funeral. Jason's broken body still haunted her. Putting him in a box wasn't going to help banish that, she was certain of it. If anything, she guessed, it'd make it worse, make it real. At least for now she could try forcing herself to think he was coming back, that it was all some seriously clever – if also ridiculously stupid – ploy by Batman and Robin.

A cigarette, a small voice at the back of her mind whispered. That was what would make everything a little easier to cope with. But she didn't want to cave. She'd decided to quit, made a bet with Jason in the hopes it might help. She refused to bow to the whims of "extenuating circumstances." To stop just because the person she'd bet against wasn't there anymore.

She punched again, felt nothing more than the dull ache, the rough material of the bag pressing uncomfortably into her knuckles as she left her hand there. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose, released it slowly through her mouth. And then, realising she had to do something, she closed her eyes again.

***

Gotham City wasn't mourning. The sky was as grey as ever but seemed unaffected by the death of Jason Todd. Instead murmurs were passed around about the fate of Robin, but they were so hushed it was hard to notice them. No one wanted to admit that it was their fault. That, given the ultimatum, they had chosen to save themselves instead of their hero. After all, heroes always survived. That was part of their remit.

It was because of those whispers that Dick had forced himself to drive. He had forced himself not to listen to the comments, because while he couldn't necessarily blame the citizens there was still something about them that irritated him. Every fibre of his body had screamed to walk, as if he might be able to exhausted himself, but he couldn't. He couldn't drown everything out.

Instead he focused on pushing the car to its limits. He rested his hand carefully on the gearstick, eyes on the traffic lights. He listened to the roar of the engine before he changed up the gear, pulling away before anyone else. The car didn't need him to forcefully pull the wheel around as he moved between lanes, but he swerved more than necessary, trying to get across the lane before he reached the nearby streetlight.

Even as he lost himself to driving he forced himself to think about A.J.. A.J. Kane was a law of her own, that much he'd learnt early on in their years of friendship. She didn't answer to anyone but herself and there were only a handful of places she'd go when hurting. Only very few places could cope with her when she was like that. Even fewer that didn't have memories of Jason lingering around in them as well.

The ring was an easy place to get to, even with the traffic that was beginning to build up. But knew the drive as well as he knew the layout of the manor. It wasn't his home from home, but it was A.J.'s, and that meant it was important.

He eased the car around the corner and took in the appearance of the gym. She was either inside pushing her limits or beating some poor trainer up to try and release some tension. Either way, Dick pressed the accelerator a little harder, knowing that he had to check in with her. Knowing that she needed him, and he needed her, more than either of them could properly put into words.

***

Her throat was thick with something, making it impossible to speak as Batman slowly walked forwards. He didn't seem to notice her at first, his eyes focused only on the teenager in his arms. Robin looked smaller than ever, his costume ratty with blood splattered almost decoratively over the lighter colours. It all looked too bright, even through a layer of grime. None of it looked real. She was grateful that the face was turned away, but also a small part of her needed to be certain, needed the identity confirmed.

'You need to leave, Sparky,' said Batman, voice gruffer than normal. He paused, just far away enough to hide the worst of it.

'Batman –'

'Now!' he yelled, voice cracking as his head snapped up, so he was looking directly at her.

A.J.'s eyes snapped open and she hit the bag. Again and again. Repeatedly until it felt like her wrists couldn't take it anymore. She wanted to drown it all out, however she could.

She went to hit the bag again but someone caught the punch. She rounded, yanking her earphones free with the other hand.

'What the hell d'you think you're doing?' she snapped.

It took a moment for her to realise who she was now opposite, panting slightly with exertion and anger. Not that knowing did anything to alleviate either.

Usually, the familiar figure of Dick Grayson was enough to soothe A.J.. He was the calm to her storm, the one who grounded her quicker even than Teddy could. During their time apart she'd found her own ways of coping but none of them seemed to work as well as a smile from her best friend, the way his blue eyes seemed to mirror the sea, glistening under the sun.

But now, now she was just annoyed that he'd ruined her rhythm.

Dick was silent, still cupping her hand in his, eyes flickering across her face. Analysing her. She hated it, and he knew that, but right then he didn't seem to care.

A.J. pulled her hand away, met less resistance than she'd expected. 'I thought you had other places to be,' she said simply, hating the tautness behind her own voice. Attack, it was the only thing she could do to stop herself from breaking. She turned away from him pointedly, busied herself with properly stopping her music and disconnecting her earphones.

'You didn't think I'd come find you?' There was a note of hurt behind his voice.

Part of her yelled to make some cutting remark, one that would send him away, send him back to the others. She could deal with this alone and he needed people around him. But, another part needed him to stay, needed a familiar face to assure her that it was going to be OK. Needed to know that he was safe, that he'd help keep the others safe as well.

Instead she forced herself to say: 'I thought everyone's heading to the manor.'

'They're not,' he told her gently, moving to the other side of the punching bag, forcing himself into her eye line. Despite the crease of concern between his brows his eyes were filled with grief, with pain, with something like guilt that she guessed she couldn't hide either. 'Roy's doing drinks too, but I know someone who's not going to either.'

A.J.'s gut twisted.

'You.' Dick moved away from her, carefully perched himself on the low bench that ran along the right side of the section. Open posture, feet firmly apart and elbows resting on his knees so that his hands hung loosely between them. It was an almost causal thing but there was a tautness in the muscles of his back, the hard line beside his mouth that gave him away.

'Never play poker,' she told him simply, without thinking, before turning back to the bag.

'What's the sawdust ever done to you?' he asked mildly, but she could tell that he was dancing around what he really wanted to say. He was trying to find the right window. But she refused to give it to him. She refused to burden him with her own guilt, her own grief, when knowing Dick he had more than enough of his own, however unnecessary it was.

Instead, A.J. hit the bag deliberately hard, knowing that he was just too far away to stop her. 'Does it matter?' Another punch, an exasperated sigh from him this time. 'No one else in this city seems to need a reason for anything. They don't seem to care about consequences.' She hit the bag again, her irritation mounting. There were only a handful of people in Gotham who seemed to care, who actually did things for the sake of others.

Dick was silent for a moment and A.J. knew that he was waiting for her emotions to dissipate slightly, for her to calm before he tried anything else. But everything was too raw, too close to the surface. It was going to take more than a calming influence this time. After all, she hadn't acted and Jason –

'It wasn't your fault.'

A.J.'s heart seemed to shatter; her next punch lost its power before it hit the bag. She rounded on her friend quickly. He wasn't looking at her, his attention instead focused firmly on the floor between his feet.

'I can't stay here,' she murmured, hearing the break in her voice and resolutely turning her attention back to the bag, to the uniform seams in it. The material was faded, like so much of Gotham seemed to be.

'I know,' he said, sounding wearier than anyone their age should. The implication hung heavily on his words, a sentence that he didn't want to give voice unless it turned sour on them.

'We should travel,' she suggested, realising that Dick couldn't voice the idea. He was too busy beating himself up about the fact that his travelling had forced Jason into the limelight, even if that hadn't been entirely his call, to realise that he needed the movement. Needed to deal with his itchy feet more than ever. 'Take Ted, and Tim. Just... just explore a bit.' Slowly she turned her attention towards him again.

She watched as he sucked in a deep breath, as he looked up at her. His eyes were red rimmed, glistened oddly with unshed tears.

She was crouched before him in an instant, her hands gathering up his and holding them tightly, silently promising not to go anywhere. He rested his head against hers; she could feel him trembling ever so slightly.

After a few moments he pulled back slowly, taking his hands with him, as if determined not to drag her with him as he slowly mended the shattered parts of himself.

'Where to first? After all, you can afford to go literally anywhere, Wayne brat,' she teased, the best she could do right then. Actions had always been where her powers were. She could never find the right words to help like Dick and Teddy did.

Despite it all, Dick chuckled. A warm sound that A.J. was grateful for, glad not to have lost with everything else. Even though she knew he was still beating himself up, knew that his heart was one memory away from shattering all over again, it was a start.

'The manor,' he said, catching her eye.

A.J. opened her mouth to argue but found she couldn't. There was something so broken behind his eyes, something that she recognised and couldn't ignore.

Obviously sensing victory Dick slowly stood up, offered out a hand for her.

'You're lucky I love you, Grayson,' she murmured, accepting the proffered hand and once again hoping that she wasn't going to regret following Dick Grayson into hell.

***

Noise floated through the manor, soft music and graveyard quiet voices. Glasses clinked softly, as if even that shrill noise might be too much. And yet, despite how the place was obviously so much fuller than ever before, it felt too empty; eerily still.

Dick carefully took A.J.'s hand, gave it a squeeze to reassure one of them, but which she couldn't be certain.

'Master Dick, Amy,' Alfred greeted before they could go any further than the threshold.

For the first time in an age A.J. had the almost overwhelming urge to hug her great-uncle. To prove that he was still there. For once she craved a physical reassurance of something, and it made her stomach lurch slightly.

'Mr. West is in the lounge, grumbling about you being otherwise occupied,' he said, addressing Dick calmly. But A.J. could see the cracks in the façade. She could see the stillness of his hands, the tightness of his shoulders. He hid behind expectations, like she did, and that only made it easier to spot the little fissures that he tried so hard to control. He wanted to lash out, but there were others who needed him to be calm right then. So he'd give them what they needed, make sure that they were OK before he did anything for himself.

Dick moved forwards but A.J. gently released his hand. He glanced back at her but nodded, recognising her need to not go in there. At least, not yet.

And then he was gone, gone to deal with his grief amongst others.

'Ted's in the study,' Uncle Alfred said gently, a little of the formality gone. There was comfort in the almost Cockney accent, the speed with which the words formed.

Still A.J. didn't move. She couldn't shake how different the house felt. Even amongst her own. Even just from being in the hallway. The manor was missing Jason's presence too.

Alfred moved towards her, carefully as if she were some kind of animal that he didn't want to startle in case they attacked. He paused a little in front of her, drawing her attention to his face without needing to try. He hadn't changed since her first introduction to him all those years ago, when he was made their legal guardian. His eyes still held that mixture of authority and warmth, of a man too used to dealing with heartache, his own and that of others.

She followed him into the study, spotted her brother instantly. For once she noticed how tall he really was, but only because it was all seemingly collapsed inwards. He looked folded, leaning on the table. The shadow of stubble lingered over his jaw, a sure sign of his own feelings. Not that he ever bothered to hide them. It was one of the things that she could always rely on. One of the things she admired about him.

Alfred carefully closed the door as she stood beside Teddy, briefly nudging his arm with her shoulder.

Silence filled the room, a pregnant pause that for once A.J. didn't feel the immediate need to fill.

'Your mother,' Alfred said eventually, a catch to his voice that made A.J. shiver, 'she'd be so proud of you both. For being there for everyone. For doing what you could, no – no matter how dangerous.'

Teddy was across the room in an instant, hugging Uncle Alfred without a thought. He rarely mentioned their mother, neither did Bruce, but when they did it was positive. It was to keep the good parts of her alive. But they'd been resolutely dancing around it all recently, because it was too close. Losing Jason was too like how they'd lost their, even if an ocean separated the backdrops, and a lack of mask meant that the hero wasn't anonymous to the world.

A.J. didn't really know that she'd joined the hug until she felt Teddy all but crushing her, felt him shaking slightly with his muffled sobs.

Yet still the tears didn't come, still he did that for her.

'We can't stay here,' she admitted into Alfred's shoulder. 'We need... We need to get away.'

Carefully Alfred untangled the three of them, and A.J. was grateful for the space.

'What're you talking about?' asked Teddy, panic creeping in.

She shot him a quick look, the calm look that she could offer him even if it might seem cold to others. 'Travel a bit. You, me, Dick and Timmy. Just...' The sentence faded out. She didn't know how to word it, didn't know what she wanted to say as the reason for it all. She couldn't say "Before it's too late," not even as the words clawed up her throat, seeking a voice.

Alfred, however, seemed to catch her meaning nonetheless. He nodded slowly.

'Where would we go first?' asked Teddy, nervously fiddling with his glasses.

A.J. shrugged, in all honesty she didn't really care. She hadn't thought that far ahead, and she knew that Dick hadn't either. But they needed to get away, needed to be somewhere that didn't feel as though something was missing.

'Somewhere new,' she said, knowing that the more they thought about it the more reasons they'd find not to do it. And that was something that she didn't want to happen.