Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was quiet, save for the gentle zoom of traffic passing far below and the vibration of the AC. It was dark, save for the flashing patterns splayed across the ceiling by fleeting city lights. It was peaceful, aside from his untamed thoughts and heart-quaking fears clashing within his restless mind.

Sleep had abandoned him – betrayed him to the torment of his internal thoughts. A whirlpool of emotion had taken hold of him, leaving him trapped inside it's tossing tendrils as it had every night for the past week. Any hint of reprieve was roughly ripped away and any inclination of silence was simply a foolish fantasy. His fear was determined to fill every pondering moment with slippery slopes of sickening scenarios, taunting him with tales of eternal terror. 

So he lay there, tossing and turning, striving to escape from the abysmal images – but to no avail. Time had certainly crawled on, but the exact amount was as far out of reach as relief from his mental manacles. 

A scream pierced the silence with startling clarity, clearing his clouded contemplations as swiftly as a strong breeze scatters a miasmatic mist. A regret-riddled pause passed as he stared to the ceiling in search of some sort of signal. When none came, he heaved a great sigh and slid off the rickety recliner, toes tentatively touching the chilled floor. 

At his brother's door he halted, hand hovering in hesitation above the dented doorknob. Worrying at his lip, he took a calming breath, closed his eyes, and entered the room. Almost the moment he did so, the man amongst the thrashed sheets bolted upright with a cry.

"NO!!!"

Blue-green eyes shone with fear in the darkness as the remnants of the nightmare faded away. Guilt gnawed at him and he sidled forwards a bit with a gulp.

"Hey Jay."

There was no guarantee that the line between nightmare and reality (so easily blurred in those night hours) was clear enough that his presence would make any difference. There was also no way to predict whether or not the elder teen would react, or what sort it would be if he did. Being patient and gentle had worked before, but now the variables had shifted and the equation could be faulty. 

Jason's eyes widened and he tore the room apart with his gaze. For a desperate second he thought he'd made it through to him – but the sea-glass eyes skimmed right over him in their frantic search and his heart clenched violently. 

A choked sound came from Jason's throat as he dropped his head into his hands, ash-white and soot-black strands twisting together under clenched hands. He decided to edge his way a bit further into the room, awkwardly hovering at the end of the bed as he watched his brother try to recover from the night terror.

Deep, shuddering breaths were the sole sound in the apartment for several minutes.

"Jay," he tried again.

The older teen's breath hitched, and tears started to leak from closed eyes as he shook on the bed. This wasn't right. He should go. His presence was only making it worse. 

He'd just turned on his heel when Jason started to mumble something out between quiet sobs. Freezing in place, his ears picked up on the choked fragments.

" 'M sorry... Shoulda been there... Shoulda been faster... 's all my fault."

Oh. Oh. That's what this was about. And now he felt even worse then he had before. 

"It wasn't your fault Jay," he tried to console him, "It really wasn't."

Silence reigned once more.

This wasn't right. None of this was right. He shouldn't be here. Jason shouldn't be crying like this. None of this should have happened.

"... Shoulda paid more 'tention... I missed it... 'M so sorry..."

It had only been a week ago.

"... 'M sorry... 'm so sorry..."

(One week ago)

"Come on Timbo, at least try to keep up!" 

Restraining the urge to stick his tongue out at Jason was not easy. The older teen cackled as he raced even further ahead across the rooftops. 

"Why... can't... you just swing... like a normal person?!" He panted. Seriously?! What was with this guy! Who ran when you could swing?

"Ha! Cause swinging through the air on a thin little wire is what normal people do."

"Well... if you're a batkid... it's normal. Seriously Jay... I think you're the weird one out here." 

"I am not! Running is a perfectly regular activity. Besides, it's much faster then using grapples. Also, code names."

To his dismay, it seemed that Jason was right on that point. They'd been traveling across the city for some time and somehow Jay was already significantly ahead of him, despite the fact that by all reasoning a grapple would be the more efficient way to travel. Keeping up with Jay's reckless, fast pace wasn't easy and his limbs had begun complaining what felt like an eternity ago. 

"So you can call me by my name... but when I simply return the favor... it's suddenly important that we use code names?"

"That's cause I've got a mask, genius kid. You really think I couldn't just talk on the coms without anyone else hearing me? If all y'all weren't so particular about using those flimsy dominoes then I'd tell ya to take notes. When you've got a mask that covers your mouth you can be having an entire conversation with someone on the coms while you punch bad guys and they won't hear a word you say. It's quite handy."

"You just like your helmet."

"Guilty as charged." He paused for the fifth time to let him catch up. Touching down on the roof 15 seconds later, he sat down hard. As he caught his breath, he inspected the teen standing in front of him.

How was Jay still doing this? He looked like he'd just been out for a casual stroll while Tim had to sit down to give his sore arms and legs a rest. And after at least an hour straight of running without a break, Jay should be at least somewhat tired. Not just standing there happily without even the slightest hint of exhaustion. This was so not fair. He was willing to bet Jay could give Dick a run (ha) for his money. The two of them had this thing for running, and even though  Dick greatly preferred to fly, he still had insane speed and endurance in the running department. 

"Hey," Jay snapped his fingers in his face, "Earth to Red."

"Oh, what? Sorry." Had time passed? It didn't feel like it had been all that long.

"What's all this about?"

His brows furrowed. "What's all what about?"

Jay slipped his helmet off to give him a look. What did he do?

"You've been in dreamland for three minutes." 

"Oh."

Jason wasn't done. "Wow. Only two little hours of swinging and you're already so tired that you zone out on random rooftops. I'm impressed. Not many bats can manage to exhaust themselves so thoroughly and quickly that they're just sitting on the floor in a daze. Most patrols are hours longer then this, you sure ya aren't getting too old for this?"

And that was Jay's way of saying he was worried. He was quite similar to Damian in that way, except he greatly preferred Jay's company to that of the demon brat. Jay was nicer and less likely to kill him.

Leaning back on his hands, he smirked up at the still standing antihero. 

"While I greatly appreciate the concern, I'm completely fine."

The red domino mask Jay wore under his helmet (talk about dramatic) raised along with his brother's skeptical eyebrow. 

"Hmm. I'll keep the fact that you can only work out for 120 minutes before collapsing on the floor in a daze in mind for next time I try to kill you."

Considering the times Jason had tried to kill him (he'd only almost succeeded three times), he probably should have been worrying a bit more about that statement. And a year ago he would have worried. But, unlike the other bats who had dismissed the antihero as insane, he'd actually pursued him and tried to discover what he could about the circumstances of his return. Finding out about the Lazarus pits had been a game changer. It had taken a lot of work, ten months, an abundance of stubbornness, and several near-death interactions, but now he could proudly say that he and his childhood hero were brothers. And as it turns out, when you almost die alongside somebody several times, you start to get close to them. (If he was being honest, Jay was his closest friend, aside from Kon and Bart. He could tell Jay things he couldn't tell the others.) 

After this long, he'd realized that Jay dealt with his past in a different way then the others. Bruce didn't deal with his past- he lived in it. Dick covered it up with smiles and laughter. Damian wouldn't talk about it to anyone (except maybe Dick). He himself tried to live in the present, attempting to forget the bad things and remember the good things. 

Jay's coping was vastly different. While everyone else tried to forget what they'd done and cover it up, Jay would openly talk about all the things he'd done that he (likely) regretted by now. Sooo, constant death jokes and reminders that he'd been a crime lord and was currently an outlaw who'd tried to kill all of them at least once (except the girls and Alfred). 

"-obin. Tim." The voice broke into his thoughts. 

"Codenames." He reprimanded without thinking.

Jason folded his arms with a worried glare. 

"What did you do? I swear, if you're hiding a concussion again I'm going to take you straight to Leslie's-"

"I didn't do anything!" Why did they always think he'd done something? "And I don't have a concussion so you can relax." 

"Have you been getting enough sleep? How much sleep have you had in the last 48 hours?"

The antihero knelt down in front of him and made as if to pull his cowl off. He scowled and batted the hands away, running his fingertips across the bridge of his nose to reassure himself that his mask was securely covering his eyes. 

"I told you I'm fine. I don't have a concussion, and I've gotten enough sleep." 

"Riiight. And how much sleep has that 'enough' been?"

"Umm..." Shoot. He knew. "4 hours."

"When."

"...26 hours ago?" 

Jason threw his hands in the air and looked to the heavens in dramatic despair.

"Seriously kid?! You're gonna get yourself killed and then B's going to blame me for not being your babysitter and sending you home and then I'll have to feel all guilty because you're not terrible."

Yeah, Jay was worried about him now. (Just ignore all that ridiculous stuff about Bruce, even if it's exactly what he'd do).

"Okay, fine. I'll go sleep."

"Grea-"

"-After I finish this case." 

The older teen groaned. "Come on Timbo! You can let the case rest for a few hours. Just let me handle it, you can go sl-"

"Nope. I'm doing the case on my own and now. Sleep is for the weak."

"And you, babybird, are definitely weak right now. Get yourself back to your little nest before I have to drag you back there myself and get a bunch of bat-mites on my tail cause of it."

Oh. That was another thing. They'd kinda kept the fact that they weren't actively out to kill/imprison the other anymore secret from the other bats. The main reason for this, although they weren't likely to ever say it out loud, was that they were afraid of losing the other. Both of them knew how all the others felt about Jay, and they both knew how Tim was always under Bruce's wing as Robin. Even though he was technically his own vigilante now, Bruce still had a tendency to get rather overprotective. And Bruce would definitely decide he was in danger if he was with Jason. Then Jay would get pushed even farther from the others and he would lose the one brother he felt understood him. Neither of them wanted to risk it.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll go back on my own." This was not fair. He needed to get to that shipment. He suspected that it was tied to this new secret society of villains that called themselves the "Light." Quite the ironic name if he thought so himself. Anyway, he had 5 hours before the shipment touched down at the Bludhaven docks. He didn't have time for Jay to knock him out or time to get any real sleep. Giving his brother a frustrated glare, which was answered with a crooked smirk, he slipped off the roof in the direction of his apartment.

Sure enough, Jay gave him maybe a minute before starting his rooftop parkor run again. Soon he was "just running" at close to 17 mph next to him as he swung from roof to roof. Tim rolled his eyes under the white lenses. 

"I don't need an escort to my room, Hood."

"You might need a guard though."

"Even if I needed a guard, which a don't, there's nothing here for you to 'guard' me from anyway."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm here to guard you from your own mind. I'll let you get to your nest in peace as long as you promise to get some rest before working on your case any more. Deal?"

He had a plan by now. Jay should've been more specific with his terms. "Deal."

The second he finished uttering the word, Jay was nowhere to be found. Not that the vigilante would be leaving him alone by a long shot.  Tim just had to fake him out long enough for him to get bored and stop spying. Then he could prepare for tonight. The sun would be going down in about an hour and a half. Plenty of time for him to pull off his first part of the plan. By the time step two began, Jay would already be busy with his "little" turf. (It was actually a large majority of Gotham, but Bruce really didn't need to know the extent of his control.) Perfect plan.

Arriving at his apartment he quickly changed into civvies. Jay was probably already out on one of the nearby buildings to make sure he actually slept. With careful movements, he brought out his computer after sitting on his bed. Jay should be texting him right about... now.

[New Message from: "J-bird"]

J-bird: Hey Timbers, close the computer right now or I'm going to have to test my new tranq gun out :D Have a nice nap!

Me: Fine! Putting it away now.

Me: But stop spying on me. Makes me feel like I'm your next target.

J-bird: Who's to say you aren't?

Me: I can't sleep if you keep texting.

J-bird: Don't get your feathers ruffled up, I'm leaving.

Me: Just be glad I'm listening to you at all.

With an exaggerated sweep he closed the laptop and placed it on the table by the bed. Perfect. Setting his mental timer, he prepared to take a one hour nap. Jay would only wait to make sure he was asleep for about 45 minutes. Then he'd get distracted by something happening, or simply get bored of watching to make sure he didn't go anywhere, and eventually leave. That gave him 15 minutes of buffer time, in case he didn't leave right away, before he could get up and get back to work. 

(an hour later)

He opened his eyes somewhat sluggishly. Maybe Jay was right and he SHOULD be getting a little more sleep. 

Nah. He had work to do. That shipment would be here in... 3 hours 49 minutes. He had less time then he thought. Time to get to work.

3 hours 30 minutes.

He was prepped and checking sources again. Heavily armed crew. Possibly trained. Shipment was to be unloaded quickly and then reloaded 30 minutes later onto a different ship. Plenty of time to get in, capture or destroy whatever it was they were transporting, and get back out. He'd plant a tracker on the first ship, so he could monitor any other movements or delivery locations easily. They'd realize he was there once the other ship got there, but by that time he should have been able to neutralize all the ground guards and do what he needed to with the shipment. 

2 hours 54 minutes.

He set off towards Bludhaven. He didn't send Dick a message, but he didn't think his brother would mind that he was in his city. Besides, he was a bit of a free floater. He tended to stay in Gotham, but they all knew that he would also travel around the world for his missions. Everyone also knew that Jay was only in Gotham about 37% of the time. The rest of the time he was flying all around to world, making full use of his outlaw status and the fact that Bruce hadn't dared kick him out of Gotham yet. What they didn't know was how often their paths "happened" to cross.

1 hour 20 minutes.

He was at the docks. He knew they weren't due to be there for over an hour, but it was entirely possible that they wouldn't be exactly on the dot, whether it was so that anyone coming to intercept them wouldn't find them, or because of good waters. He had time to work on his plan, and figure out what theirs was. He turned on his wrist computer and started working.

0 hours 34 minutes.

They were here. He watched from his perch atop a nearby building as they unloaded several crates onto the docks before surrounding it. He did a quick investigation of their weapons. There wasn't much to worry about. Except maybe the guys with the guns. As long as he took them out first he'd be fine. Now time to get the tracker on that ship and wait for them to be out of the harbor before attacking.

0 hours 17 minutes.

He sprang out of the shadows, taking down the first two gun wielding goons before the others could react. Three birdarangs lodged themselves into the body armor of three guards who yelled in surprise before running away. Well. Guess that answers the question on whether they're trained or not. Four guards opened fire on him, but he was able to shield himself with his cape before they could hit him. Smoke pellets assured the rest of the battle as his lenses switched so as to see through the billowing smoke. 

Barely five minutes had passed until the smoke dissipated to reveal 20 unconscious guards... and a circle of new ones. When did they get here? Had the other ship arrived early? No matter. They were just delaying the inevitable. He waited before they got close before throwing down more pellets. These goons were even easier then the last ones, the fight lasted maybe 30 seconds. 

Instincts had him rolling to his right before he registered that a sword had just sliced through the air above his head. What? None of these guys were sword users, that much was obvious. A new party had entered the fight. 

Flip. Five shuriken cut the air beneath him. Ninja. This was bad. 

Duck. Sword. This was really bad. If these were who he thought they were, then this operation was greater then he thought.

Sure enough, two ninja appeared in front of him, already swinging their swords with lethal efficiency. 

What was so important that Ra's wanted it? Unless it was him that Ra's wanted again. That wasn't happening again anytime soon if he could help it. Four more ninja joined the fight. Given enough time he'd be able to take them. He'd managed to knock out one ninja with a tranquilizer dart to the neck when he noticed the shadows seemed darker then they had before.

He knocked out two others with darts (he ended up just stabbing them with them) and the forth one with a well placed kick. He took a second to breathe. Then he raised his eyes, already knowing what he'll find. 

Great. 

About 25 ninja had surrounded him, each with swords and shuriken of their own. At the very least, he'd be needing a large amount of bandages when this was all over. At worst, well, that depended on whether Ra's had issued a kill order or not. 

A small cloud of shuriken came at him from all angles. He dodged all but two, they stabbed him in the right arm and upper torso. About half of those were kill shots. So, either he wasn't the main target, or Ra's just didn't care a whole lot about his safety. Maybe both. He started fighting the first set of ninja that got to him. It was only a few seconds before they all became kill strikes or shots.

He was an idiot for not having some backup. Maybe Dick would be nearby. He quickly commed him.

"Nightwing this is Red Robin. Requesting immediate backup at the docks. Code Black."

A second passed before his comm crackled.

"I'll be there in six minutes."

He was now fighting 7 ninja.

"Not sure that'll be fast enough."

Whatever Nightwing was going to respond with was cut off with a burst of gunfire. Six ninja went down. Only three of them got up again. Those three appeared to have been hit in the side and the leg. 

A red, black, and brown blur flew from the top of a nearby building. Bullets flew everywhere as the Red Hood spun upside down in midair. His seven ninja went down from the surprise attack. 

"Well, looks like you picked up some friends Red. Wanna do the introductions?"

"Now" dodge, kick "Is not" spin "the right time!" Flip, dodge, punch.

"Alright. Fine. Ninja assassins I'm Red Hood. I'd expect a response from a civil person, but Ra's never trained you on manners so I'll take my case up with him instead, got it?"

Of course Jay had followed him. He should have known better then to have thought Jay wouldn't swing, er, run by periodically to make sure he was actually asleep. 

He'd be mad with him later, once they didn't have 18 mad ninja running at them. 

After a minute he'd gathered two more shuriken, one in his lower back and one in his left leg. This couldn't go on much longer, he obviously wasn't going to be able to make it out of here unless Dick showed up miraculously and saved them all. He was almost out of options. Even if the shuriken weren't poisoned (which he had a feeling they were) he was too physically exhausted to play this game much longer.

Almost as if thinking it was enough, he felt his left leg begin to spasm. Arching his back to avoid a sword, he jumped into a backflip, throwing batarangs as he did. His leg spasmed just as he landed, causing him to slip and twist his ankle painfully.

His cry of pain caused Jay to freeze, while the rest of the ninja swarmed forwards. Jay flew in front of him, his armor taking a hit from several shuriken and a sword. He managed to get up as Jay opened fire again. 

His reflexes seemed to give out as a sword flew out of nowhere, headed for his neck. He was almost too slow. He screamed as the cold metal cut into the unprotected skin of his cheek.

Beside him, Jay's fighting intensified. His brother was moving faster then the ninja could react, even with their extensive training. 5, no, 8 ninja went down around him in the blink of an eye. Jay'd take care of them - of him. All he needed to do was stay alive. Sadly, that was easier thought then done. Where was Dick?

"Nightwing, where are you?"

"I'm almost there. Hang on for me, kay? Just for two minutes?"

2 minutes. Two minutes were plenty of time for this battle to go either way. One good sword thrust and Jay was done for. Unfortunately, he was in worse condition. He now could feel the poison from the shuriken beginning to take effect. The fact that he had not one, but four of them stuck in him probably weren't going to do him any favors.

The glinting blade of a razor-sharp katana alerted him of the next attack. A few well placed hits would be enough to slow them down. Aaaand he wasn't able to complete said hits. Leaving his side open to attack from a sword. This was going to be hard to explain to Bruce. He'd probably get benched for at least a month after this fiasco. 

There was nothing he wanted more currently then for Nightwing to show up or the ninja to stop attacking before his body stopped functioning entirely. Bullets flew through the air around hitting his opponents. They went down. Hopefully he wasn't next. The world started to blur. That didn't seem right. Movement in his peripheral vision brought his surroundings back into focus. 

The buildings were moving? No. That was him. Vaguely he felt himself land on his side with a sickening thud. Everything spun as he felt the cold, wet concrete against his flushed, burning cheek. After a few seconds he was able to gather his senses enough to push to a sitting position and observe his surroundings.

The few remaining ninja were being viciously taken down by Jay. If he didn't know better, he'd think that Jay was going for kill shots. They'd be off by millimeters. Just another testimony to his uncanny skills. The world started to become fuzzy again. He needed to focus on something else. More movement brought him something to examine. 

One of the goons he had taken out originally was stirring. Was he one of the ones with a gun? The henchman reached towards his side and pulled out his firearm. Well. This was just peachy. 

Jason finished with the ninja and was standing completely still with his head down, helmet severely damaged. Others might assume that he was exhausted, but he knew better. Jay was fighting a mental battle now. When that ninja sliced his cheek he saw how his brother's fighting style changed. They'd fought together enough for him to recognize the influence of the pit. 

When the pit took control, Jason would become instinctual and reckless. It allowed him to defeat practically any opponent, but at a cost. It would try to take control of him and send him into a murderous, rage-filled state again. After every battle it came out in, he would be forced to take an indefinite period of time to quell the urge to give in. 

It was highly unlikely that the gun-wielding goon had any idea what was happening, but it didn't matter. The gun was already aimed for the (now unprotected) back of his brother's head. Jason wouldn't see it in time, the guy was right behind him. 

"Hood! Look out!"

Ignoring the fiery pain enwrapping his whole body, he grabbed a batarang. Hopefully his aim was still good enough for this. The weapon flew through the air silently. The henchman's eyes widened as the sleek object flew past his gun. Missed. 

The gunman's attention was drawn from Jason to him. That was... good for Jay, really bad for him. 

Jason turned towards him. The man pointed the gun. He gave Jay a weak smile. Dick flew over the rooftop.

At least they're safe.

Four gunshots echoed into the silence.

"Tim!"

Chapter Text

It happened in slow motion.

Bang!

no.

Bang!

No.

Bang!

NO.

thud. 

"Tim!!!"

Each consecutive bullet landed- no -slammed, broke, pierced, ripped into his little brother's body. 

Tim went slack, crumpling to the ground like a puppet with the strings cut.

no.

Bang. 

The man who'd shot his brother didn't even get to scream. Jason wouldn't have heard him through the ringing in his ears and green in his vision if he had. 

The world snapped back into motion and he was moving, racing to the boy on the ground. Dick was beside him, crying something. The words didn't make any sense. 

Tim's blood pooled around him, settling in the folds of his cape, almost invisible against the red of his suit. 

Jason felt sick.

Dick was talking with Tim. Tim wasn't responding. Wasn't talking. There was something feverish in his eyes. 

His hands moved on their own, pulling the cowl off, the zipper down, jamming his thumb into soft skin in search of a pulse. 

It was barely there. 

Something distant in his mind said that Ra's used poison on his shuriken. 

"No..." he rasped. "Tim."

Tim's half-lidded eyes rolled over to him slightly. They were blue. Confused. Distant. 

"J'son..." Tim coughed, wet and choking, trying to curl up. Red dribbled from the side of his mouth.

"Tim. I'm here. I'm here, babybird." His eyes were burning. "I'm not leaving you."

The corner of Tim's lips twitched up faintly. Then he coughed again, spitting blood out. It stained his teeth, his skin. 

Jason had never realized how gruesome blood was until that moment - never seen anything so sickening. Nothing was so horrifying, so innately wrong, wicked, evil, as seeing blood on the lips of his little brother. 

Tim's fingers twitched limply. Jason grabbed his hand and squeezed it. 

Tim was dying. 

Tim was dying. 

He was going to be sick.

Tim blinked once, slowly. For a moment he was afraid his eyes would never open again, but they did. They turned to him again. Staring at him in some mix of confused, pained, relieved, and scared. Dick was murmuring, crying, pleading for him to hold on, just wait for Bruce, don't go. But Tim didn't look away.

He knew what it felt like to die.

So he smiled. Tim deserved to see a smile while he was dying. The smile of someone who cared about him, who would have done anything for him. It should have been someone else to give it. 

"It's gonna be okay." His voice was rough, tight to his own ears.

Tim watched him.

"It'll hurt for a bit. And then... then you're done. It's just the dark and the quiet and peace like you've never felt before." He forced a smile again. A tear slipped into the corner of his mouth. It was salty. 

"It's gonna be okay, babybird. You're gonna be just fine. I promise."

Tim coughed again, weakly. His fingers tightened the smallest bit around Jason's. A quiet thank you.

And then-

Then Tim's eyes closed. 

A heartbeat passed.

Then another.

And then no more.

The little pressure against his fingers slipped away.

He wanted to scream, to cry, to shake his little brother until he moved again. He wanted- he wanted. He didn't know what he wanted. There was too much. It was all too much. Too quiet. Too still. 

He wanted Tim back.

More than anything he had ever wanted. More than revenge. More than justice. More than anything he'd ever felt before. Because now something was missing. And Jason didn't know how much he had needed it until it was gone.

Tim was gone. 

Things were moving around him. It was completely still.

Noise filled his hearing. Silence deafened him.

Time rushed by. Everything was frozen.

The world blurred. The scene was painfully clear.

He didn't know how long it was before Bruce arrived. Black cape enwreathed broad shoulders as his adoptive father carried the broken bird. Masks vanished so tears could fall. 

Present.

The cave was occupied only by bats. 

Bruce had retreated to his room. Nobody'd heard from him in days.

Jason had followed them to the cave before dropping off the map entirely.

Damian spent his time fighting in the training room or drawing. 

Babs was immersing herself in work.

Steph just wandered around the manor in a daze.

Cass was quieter then usual.

Alfred... poor Alf. He'd obviously been grieving himself, but he had to take care of all of them because they were so useless around the manor.

Overall, it was terrible. 

Death's cold embrace had smothered all energy from the manor once again.

When Jason had died, the whole place fell into ruins alongside Batman. Then when Damian did, there was a stubbornness about it. A refusal to let that be his end. He had been in space for the first one, and undercover a spy for the second time. This was the first time he'd been there. And this time, he was actually there.

The call from-, the call had been a surprise. When he mentioned Code Black, his heart had skipped a beat. Immediately, he started crossing the city headed for the docks. He'd been too late. Missed it just by seconds. Seconds. If he'd been faster he could have stopped it. Just a bit faster. He should have been there. He should have known. There had to have been a faster way.

Being in the manor was almost indescribably painful, but leaving it was infinitely worse.

Days passed in shades of gray. It had been a week now. They'd all been forced to get back on duty. Well, most of them. None of the girls had been seen outside the mansion and nobody had seen or heard anything from Jason either. Somebody should probably check on him at some point. 

His comm crackled with reports of a robbery on 29th and West Main. Sighing, he swung off in the direction of the crime. It would be a long night.

(One week ago)

He only felt the first one.

The typical pain that comes from being shot in the lung coupled with the fast-acting poison and extensive blood loss was too much for his body to handle. The blackness was already closing in when the second bullet hit. Somewhere near his heart he thought. After that, well, he heard the third and forth ones, only vaguely aware that they'd hit him before the darkness enveloped him. 

There was a moment of panic when the last of his senses vanished. Everything was nothing. That seemed bad.

He felt... did he feel? He wasn't sure. It was a disconcerting... something. He didn't know how long it had been, but he already was... sorta not. 

Did that make sense? There was this non-ness almost. And it was everywhere. It was nice. Very... calm? Yeah. That seemed right. 

Calm... and quiet. Very quiet. Like it was hugging him. If he had a body, it might have giggled. He wasn't quite sure on that part. It was so nice.

He liked it.

It wasn't empty now. Just calm and quiet. Sooo nice. Sl... what was the word? Sl... sle... sleepy? Yeah. It was sleepy. So nice. So sleepy.

A light showed up. It wasn't nice. It was hard and bright. It wasn't sleepy. He didn't like it.

The light was getting bigger. That wasn't nice at all. The calm quietness was getting chased away. He wanted to go with it. 

The light was hard and brash and solid. There wasn't a feeling of non-ness with it. It felt... real. 

The light kept spreading across the space. There was only about three eights of the space that didn't have any light to it. Hmm. Curious. 

The darkness shrank down to something that, from his vantage point, seemed to be about the size of a quarter. 

He had a vantage point? Did that mean he had a body again? Yep. There was most definitely a body that he was attached to. Or was it vice versa?

The light started to change. Colors formed around him and noises started to filter through. It was like watching a polaroid develop. Or maybe watching a watercolor artist. The colors started out faintly, but grew stronger gradually.

A familiar feeling encompassed him as time seemed to take him back. It was impossible to explain how it felt. There just wasn't time, and then there was.

The colors grew stronger and sharper. As they did, noise started to reach his ears. They started out as far away hints of sound, volume increasing as the color did. 

Wait... this looked familiar... a clear night sky, old buildings, an ocean, figures - too blurry to see - but they were still there. Voices came into range, like he was tuning in on a radio station.

"...-re. I co-... -un h an-... -hot four ti-..."

He recognized the voice. It was... it was...

New voice.

"...-orry. I didn't know."

That was Jason. He'd know that voice anywhere. What was he- the picture finally focused. He was on his back, facing up. Jason was kneeling next to him. Dick (the first voice) was in tears and hysterics beside Jay. Who were they talking- oh. Bruce towered over them. Grief was written on every facet of his face. The man was staring right at him and seemed to be at a loss for words.

Placing his hands next to himself, he pushed himself into a sitting position. There was the weirdest feeling he'd ever felt when he did so. 

Everyone was still staring at him.

"Guys?"

Jason flinched- hard. 

Great. Now his vocal chords decided to betray him and give away his confusion.

Why didn't anyone say anything?

"What's going on?" He asked, genuinely confused.

Maybe Bruce knew. Shifting his eyes from Jay (who was frozen next to him), he looked to his adoptive father. Bruce took a few steps forward, but then fell to his knees next to him. Why was he-

"No."

Oh no. He had only heard Bruce use that voice two times before. It was a broken, grieving, pain-filled voice. You felt physical pain just listening to it. 

The first time he'd heard it was when Bruce had told him what exactly had happened to Jason all those years ago.

The second time was when Damian died. 

If Bruce was using that voice now... things must be really bad.

"...Tim."

Cold fear raced up his spine and spread through his bones. Bruce just said his name in that voice.

Panicked, and somewhat desperate, he practically pleaded, "Bruce."

The black-clad man reached out towards him. Thinking that he would touch him, he was surprised when the gloved hand moved to something just beneath and beside him. Bruce's bigger hand closed around... his? But that wasn't possible. Lifting his right hand, he felt it move, but the hand his father held remained stationary.

Turning, he followed the hand that Bruce held up to- deathly fear shot through him and he lurched away in shock.

It was himself. He was looking at himself. His still form was listlessly laying on the ground. Red liquid seemed from various sounds. Wounds that he vividly recalled getting. Wounds that he should be feeling right now. Wounds which should likely have killed him. 

Wait-

"No..." he whispered as he stared at his body. His limp, bleeding, dead body.

"No, no, no." The proof was right in front of him.

"Please, please no."

Lifting his hands, he dared to look at them.

No.

His hands were... wrong. They had a slight blue-green tinge to them, and were definitely, dreadfully semi-transparent.

He wasn't a fool by any means.

He also wasn't alive.

The knowledge of who- or what he was now sank into him with a chill that froze him to his core. There was a horrible finality to the feeling. In that instant, he realized that he couldn't return.

They could dump him in a Lazarus pit, they could go to Aplokalyps, they could do anything they wanted to try and bring him back, but he innately knew that nothing would work. He was different now- he was wrong - and nothing could fix that. Bruce would try, that much was certain, but he'd never find a way. Not in time.

Bruce's arms cradled the corpse. His blood stained the black-gray suit. Wordlessly, his father clutched his body in a final hug. A hug he wished more than anything else that he could feel.

It hurt too much to watch; he closed his eyes and turned his face away. Dick did much the same. Jason remained still. 

Eventually, Bruce stood, lifeless son draped across his strong arms. Solemnly, he walked over to the batwing. Dick managed to stand up. Jason slowly turned his head towards his older brother. The two brothers trailed after the father. Numbly, he followed his family into the sleek black ship. 

The blood on the ground rippled as the powerful craft melted into the night sky.

All the walls broke down while they flew back to Gotham. Bruce held his body the whole trip, cowl off, and cried. Jason sat and stared at his body... almost as if he were in a daze. Dick was in silent hysterics, tears clouding his brilliant blue eyes. None of them were able to form the words to tell Barbara what happened.

They landed. Everyone had come to see what had happened. Cass, Babe, Steph, Alfred... even Damian.

Dick and Jason existed first. Someone, probably Barbara, gasped at their condition. There was a slight pause. Then Bruce emerged. Tim stood awkwardly behind him.

There was a stunned silence.

"Is he...?"

A single nod from Bruce sent them into shock and tears. Alfred... Alfred shouldn't ever look that sad. The grandfather was the first to move. Walking up to where Bruce was about to collapse, he helped his son to a seat. Nobody knew who brought the emergency gurney, but his body now rested there temporarily. 

There was an uncomfortable tension in the air. All of them were obviously in shock. All of them wanted to escape the roiling emotions that filled the cave. None of them were able to look away or leave.

After some time, Damian silently turned and walked out of the cave. Slowly, the others followed his example. Soon, only Bruce and Cass were left.

Tear tracks traced the contours of Bruce's face. Cass' large eyes were full of sadness. Next to his still form, they mourned together.

Despite the fact that they were mourning him, he still felt like an intruder. Before he could change his mind he was already halfway out of the cave.

Wandering around the mansion, he spotted some of the others. Pretending like he was trying to sneak past them was easier for him to handle than to walk right next to them invisibly. Too much had happened and he needed to have some time to himself where he could let himself think nothing had happened. The one place they were unlikely to go would be his room.

Arriving at his door led him to a conundrum. When he'd tried to reach for the doorknob, he hadn't felt anything but air beneath his fingertips. He pilled his hand away without looking. There was no way he was ready to see his hand passing through solid matter. Trying again, he checked to make sure his hand was above the doorknob. It was. He reached down. Nothing.

There was no way he was going to try to walk through the door. He'd come over here to forget about everything, not to make the reality all that much realer. 

Footsteps sounded in the hall. Not unexpected, considering that all of their bedrooms were in the same wing. Hmm. It was Dick and he looked terrible. 

The taller boy stumbled to his door, pushing into his room. There wasn't a sound from inside for a minute. He was about to leave when a heartbreakingly soft cry, almost like a kitten's, floated out from the still open door.

He couldn't possibly leave Dick alone when he made a sound like that.

So, he walked into his oldest brother's room against his better judgement. 

How come Dick was able to bend all of them to his will?! Well, almost all of them. Jason was the only one immune. Even Cass couldn't say no to him if he did it the right way. It was totally unfair. And completely unreasonable and ridiculous. The man was almost 30 for heaven's sake!

Said almost-30-year-old was slumped on the end of the bed, like a sad puppy.

The normalcy of the situation sent him over to the bed. Hoisting himself up, he situated himself next to the grieving man. Normally, he would have sat directly next to him so that the elder could hug him. For such an experienced superhero to require such affection was bordering on extremely childish, but everyone knew that Dick never really grew up.

Now he sat a good foot or two away, terrified and curious as to if he'd be able to touch him or not. When his big brother began to sob, he couldn't handle it any longer, and stretched his hand out to comfort him. 

There was a desperate, wild moment of hope when he thought that he'd made contact. Then his fingers slipped right through his brother's arm and he instantly felt sick and... wrong. A second or two passed before he was able to gather his panicked thoughts and emotion.

Everything about Dick just begged for someone's care. Maybe he needed to concentrate more? Maybe it had just been a fluke? (It wasn't a fluke.)

This time he was able to control his reaction long enough to notice something. Dick was warm. When his hand moved through him it felt like he was reaching into a warm spot of air. The warmth crawled up his arm and seeped into the rest of him. Instinctively, he relaxed. Then exactly what he was doing occurred to him, and he snatched his hand back as if he'd been touching hot coals.

But the warmth lingered and Dick didn't seem to notice that anything had changed. Maybe it was just something that happened and it didn't affect Dick at all. That seemed to be the case, as Dick still wept, painfully unaware he was there.

At some point, Dick's cries lessened, and he gradually fell asleep. Despite himself, he reached out to touch him again once he did. This time, he was able to lightly rest his hand on top of Dick's without it falling through. Close to twenty minutes passed with him cautiously enjoying the pulsing heat that Dick emitted. After a time, he decided to leave his brother in peace.

As he left he spotted the light switch. It was off. But... he could see... did that mean he could see in the darkness? Upon a closer examination, he realized that while he could see everything, it was just like how it was when he looked through his mask lenses in the dark. 

Was he still wearing his suit? Yep. Did that include the mask? The smooth texture under his fingertips proved that was correct. Could he take it off? Yep. And... he could still see everything. Weird. 

Storing the mask in his utility belt, he moved out to the hallway again. The lights were definitely on. Revolving on his heel, he stuck his head back into Dick's room. He could see the rise and fall of his chest easily. Curious. 

Pulling back out of Dick's room, he stood in the hallway to collect his thoughts. 

Getting into his room was not an option. The cave was occupied and the roof would require a ladder. 

The obvious solution was to leave the manor. Preferably before he ran into any more grief-stricken family members. 

Resolved, he walked down the hallway confidently. If someone had been watching, they would never have known he was dead. He displayed an appropriate level of confidence and calm for someone with as much hero experience as he did. 

In fact, he was so confident and completely calm that he didn't even notice something in front of him until he ran smack-dab into it.