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Jason’s lips were turning blue.
Dick figured his wasn’t any better. He couldn’t feel his hands and he’d long since gotten too tired to try and walk around, keep his blood flowing.
Jason was doing a little better, but for how much longer?
“Jay?” Dick whispered. He blinked slowly and was startled by how much strength it took to draw his eyes open again. His brother hadn’t moved. He tried not to panic. “Jay?” he pressed again, reaching a trembling hand over to weakly tug on his brother’s shirt sleeve.
Jason was cold to the touch. Or maybe that was Dick’s hands. Either way, he weakly shook Jason again.
“Jay!” his voice broke and he forced his body to unfold so he could crawl closer. Neither of them were shaking anymore. That was bad, right? “Jason, please wake up!”
But his brother didn’t move. Dick sobbed, curling around Jason's arm. “It’s okay, Jay,” he whispered, tears falling and freezing as soon as they hit his cheeks. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Jason’s frozen shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t let you die alone this time, okay? B-but you have to hold on, okay? Bruce is coming. H-he al-alw-always comes.”
Dick wished he was shivering but he couldn’t remember why. Actually, he wasn’t even feeling cold anymore. If anything, he was feeling hot.
That was bad, right? Something in the back of his head said that was really really bad, but he didn’t care. Licking his lips and wincing at the sting, Dick slowly unfurled himself from Jason and pulled off his shoes, then his socks.
It wasn’t long before he had stripped down to his boxers and curled up next to Jason again. His skin was white, fingers and toes almost grey. The nails blue. That was bad, right?
“We’re gonna die, right?” Dick asked Jason sleepily as he curled closer around his brother’s arm, resting his head on Jason’s shoulder and staring blankly at the door across the room. “Does it hurt? I-I mean your death was painful before.”
Thinking and talking was getting harder but Dick didn’t want Jason to get scared. He remembered that, at least. His little brother was afraid of the silence. So despite how painfully exhausted he was, he kept talking.
“It’s gonna be okay, Jay,” he mumbled. Distantly, he heard yelling, shouting, gunshots. But it didn’t mean anything. “We’re gonna take a nap, okay? We’ll be home when we wake up cause Bruce is gonna save us. He...he always saves us.”
His next blink was slower and he found himself too tired to open them again. Suddenly felt like he was floating, comfortable and warm and peaceful.
“Bruce is gonna save us,” he whispered. “Not much longer now.”
He drew Jason closer and let himself drift off to sleep.
………………
“Grayson!” Damian shouted as he burst into the freezer and found Dick, curled next to Jason.
“Oh no,” Tim said quietly as he came up behind them. Jason’s head was twisted at an odd angle, clearly broken. From the direction, it meant he’d suffocated. Died painfully. Not from hypothermia though.
Dick...Dick had died cold. His clothes were in a pile in the corner and he was dressed only in his boxers, curled up against Jason. He looked peaceful and if Tim didn’t know any better, he’d think he was just asleep.
“Grayson?” Damian whispered, creeping closer and falling to his knees, reaching a hand out to fall on Dick’s arm, shaking him. “Wake up.”
Despite their differences, how much Tim hated Damian, it broke his heart to see this. Damian was just a kid who had seen death and caused it.
But seeing your brother dead? That was another thing entirely. Swallowing thickly, Tim turned his back on Damian who was guiding Dick to the floor after laying the acrobat’s clothes down to protect his bare skin from the cold. He let Damian preform fruitless CPR. He knew it was too late but Damian didn’t.
Tim didn’t have the heart to break it to him. Dick was dead. He wasn’t coming back.
Closing his eyes, Tim turned away and made his way back to where Bruce was zip tying the men’s hands together. Who they were, why they had taken Dick and Jason, Tim didn’t know.
It didn’t matter anymore though, did it? Not anymore.
“Did you find them?” Bruce’s voice was gruff as it always was as Batman. As it always was when one of his children was in danger.
Tim nodded, forcing his voice to work. “We were too late,” he said quietly. “They snapped Jason’s neck and-”
“Where are they?”
“The freezer,” Tim answered. The men had been smart, taking Dick and Jason to a hotel where they stashed them in the kitchen freezer. The hotel was twenty-six floors high and if they hadn’t been up against Batman they probably would have gotten away with it.
Tim blinked, glancing over his shoulder as Bruce strode towards the freezer. They did get away with it, he realized. Dick and Jason were dead. The bad guys won.
“No!”
He sighed and made his way back to the freezer, avoiding looking at Jason and Dick and instead turning his attention to where Bruce was pulling Damian away from Dick.
“Father, let me go!” Damian shouted.
“Damian,” Tim said softly, surprised when the other actually looked at him. Tim shook his head. “It’s too late,” he said quietly.
“No,” Damian snarled, kicking his way out of Bruce’s grasp to crumple next to Dick’s body. “No, we can still save them! We can still save him! ”
“Tim,” Bruce said without turning around. “Get him out of here. Contact Gordon.”
Tim nodded, walking over to place a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Come on.”
“Drake-”
“Please.”
Damian hesitated, staring down at Dick’s pale corpse for a long time before squeezing his eyes closed and standing, turning and shoving his way past Tim.
With one last look at Dick and Jason, Tim followed.
……………..
Two days later, Jason was reburied in his grave with no fanfare. After all, he was still legally dead.
A week after they found them, Dick’s public funeral was held and he was buried next to Jason. That night, the Justice League held a dual funeral for Nightwing and Red Hood, giving both a memorial in the Watchtower.
Bruce took both of their suits and erected monuments in the cave.
The plaques both read: ‘Good sons’