The gun explodes in Jason's hand. He cries out at the unexpected pain, dropping both the gun and the Joker to clutch at the bleeding hand.
"Oh." The voice is unexpected, coming from behind Bruce.
Jason lifts his head, and Bruce spins around to face the window the bullet had just gone through.
Nightwing stood precariously on the fire escape, leaning against the window, a pained smirk on his face. His gloved hand was pressed to the right side of his chest.
Blood pooled thick and obscene around his fingers.
The thick red liquid was horribly, blatantly obvious where is bisected those stupid blue finger-stripes, gushing out of the older vigilante with alarming speed.
"I told you," he coughed, and blood speckled his teeth when he grimaced at the pain. "I've always got perfect timing."
He started to list sideways and Bruce dove for the window, wrenching it out of it's frame and grabbing Dick before he could fall. Bruce hauled him into the room and used one of his knives to cut away the material surrounding the entry wound; trying to get at it to see how bad it was, how best to apply pressure.
"Di-Nightwing?" Jason's voice young and cracked with shock as he took a step past the Joker towards where Bruce had laid Dick out on the floor of the crappy little room.
"Stay back!" Bruce snarled, and Jason flinched, stumbling backwards like he hadn't even as a small child, facing an angry Batman. His mind spun. He hadn't-! Dick wasn't supposed to be here! He didn't-! Getting them into admittedly dangerous situations he knew they could get out of was one thing; Bruce didn't think he'd *meant* to -! Not Dick!
Nightwing grunted when Bruce bore down with most of his formidable weight, one hand reaching up to tap his com and demand oracle send medical backup immediately. Batman kept one wary eye on Jason, who was reeling at the unplanned, unexpected turn of events.
Dick reached out with a bloodied hand, and rested it briefly against Bruce's shoulder, before extending it to Jason.
Shades of the past clouded Jason's eyes; that same hand, those same stupid fingerstripes had reached out to a scared and blustering child; brushing straight past the bravado and dragging the struggling, confused boy into one of the only hugs in his young life; the first that didn't come from his mother.
"Hey, Lil' Wing," Dick slurred, a pained, bloodied smile stretching across his face. "Good to see you."