Someday I'll figure out what the Jason/Dick story in my head is actually *about*. Until then,

Jason shooting at him, Jason getting in the way, Jason appearing out of nowhere on his own insane schedule and backing him up for no apparent reason, all of those things, at this point, Dick can more or less wrap his brain around.

Jason lounging in a wing chair and sipping Merlot, on the other hand, is freaking him the hell out.

"The thing is, Dick." Jason pauses, takes a sip, shakes his head. "No. Your *problem* is, Dick, that for whatever reason you don't let yourself acknowledge that you have a dark side. Brucie-boy is the dark side, you're the light, Timmy is all the shades of gray in one sour little package. And you all insist on keeping up this ridiculous three-color charade, even though reality doesn't *work* like that."

"You spend a lot of time coming up with cheap pop-psychology, Jason."

"Everybody needs a hobby."

"You also spend a lot of time obsessing over the three of us for a vigilante who supposedly hates our guts."

"Yeah, well, I'm also clinically insane, in case you forgot."

"I never forget." Dick slumps lower in his own chair, frowning. "What are you?"

"A bipedal carbon-based life form with--"

"No. Jackass." Dick sighs and shakes his head. "If Bruce is the darkness and I'm the light and Tim is the gray, what are you?"

"Oh." Jason takes another drink and shrugs. "I'm all the wrong turns. The what-ifs, the might-have-beens. The thank-fuck-that-didn't-happen. The Jesus-what-if-that-had-been-me? I'm all those, boiled down and haunting you guys for fun and profit. Except I haven't seen much profit lately." He frowns and reaches for the bottle to refill his glass. "I should do something about that."