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Jason had been such a small kid. Years of malnourishment will do that. Dick remembered the first time he saw him. He'd thought, Bruce is going to get this kid killed.
And he hadn't been wrong.
But now he found himself wishing that Jason had stayed small. Light. But he hadn't. He was heavy now. Too heavy.
"You have to let go, Dickie," Jason panted. "Don't make me take you with me. You can't do that to me. You can't do that to them. Just let go."
Jason's back was pressed to Dick's chest, the back of his head resting on Dick's shoulder, hot breaths tickling his ear. Dick had one hand looped around Jason's chest, the other treading water.
Jason was doing his best to help keep them both afloat, but his limbs obviously weren't cooperating. He'd lost his helmet at some point, and his blue eyes were glassy, unfocused. Blood streaked down his face, dripping into the dark water. Dick could do nothing to stem the flow of blood from the head wound with both of his hands occupied. Nor could he do anything for the knife wound in Jason's side or the one in his leg that had hit dangerously close to the femoral artery. By the way it had been bleeding...it may have even nicked it just the tiniest bit.
"Why would I ever do that, little brother?"
A strangled sound convulsed Jason's throat. "Because we can't both die. B...and Alfred. Timmy. Damian would be...Dick, you can't die. I've already done it once, I'm not scared."
"I'm not letting you go," Dick ground out through clenched teeth. But even as he said it, his muscles were screaming at him. He couldn't hold them both up for much longer. Jason was right—if he didn't let go, they were both going to drown.
"Dick…" Jason's blinks were getting slower, his movements lagging even more. He was bleeding too much. "It's okay. Really. Just let go," he breathed.
Dick clutched his brother even tighter. "Never. Never, Jason." He choked on the words. They weren't even moving closer to the shore anymore. They'd just been treading water for a long time now.
"I'm too tired, Jay," Dick said, letting the exhaustion seep into his tone. "Even if I let go now, it won't matter. Can't go anywhere anyway. We're sticking together until the end. Sorry, kiddo."
Jason took a deep shuddering breath. "You can't die, Dick," he whispered hoarsely. "I don't want you to die." Jason's face was already wet, but Dick knew that some of it was tinged with salt now. "I lied." His voice broke. "Dying is scary. You can't, Dick. Please."
Dick turned his head and pressed a kiss to his brother's cold, wet hair. "It's okay, Jay," he said softly. "Don't be scared. You're not alone this time."
He couldn't keep them up any longer, after that. His muscles seized up and he spluttered when the water reached his mouth as he began to sink beneath the surface. He kicked frantically, but it wasn't enough to keep them afloat.
He couldn't speak through the water, but Jason's voice was still in his ear, still above the surface. "I love you, Dick. I'm sorry I never said it before."
In his periphery, Dick could see Jason close his eyes and he could feel him relax in his grip.
Dick couldn't hold him any longer and Jason slipped beneath the water, out of Dick's grasp.
Dick followed him down. It was quiet in the dark.
——
Dick hadn't expected to wake up.
He came to on his back and immediately turned his head to the side. He coughed and choked and vomited water. And again. And again. Until finally he could draw in harsh, painful breaths. His throat was raw, ruined. His chest felt like it was being squeezed and his head pounded in time with his frantic heartbeat. His muscles were jelly.
Tim was hovering over him, shaky and out of breath.
"Oh thank fuck," he said, collapsing back onto his butt. "God, Dick. Don't ever do that again."
Dick hacked up more water when he tried to speak. After another fit of coughing, he found his voice.
"Jason. Jason," he croaked. "Tim, Jason was with me, he went under, you have to—" He coughed again and tried to sit up, but Tim pressed him down easily with a slim hand on his shoulder.
"He's okay, Dick. We got him. He's right here."
Dick turned his head again and for the first time noticed a large form next to him. He blinked and the blurry shape morphed into a person. Pale as bone, a dark slop of wet hair plastered to his head.
Jason's chest was rising and falling. Breathing. Not dead. Not laying at the bottom of the river bed like a forgotten shipwreck.
Dick pushed Tim away with weak hands, and this time Tim let him. He rolled onto his front and barely managed to push himself up onto trembling hands and knees. He crawled the three feet to Jason, registering vaguely that they were on the deck of a boat. His knees slipped on the wet planks and he collapsed half on top of his worryingly still brother.
He hadn't noticed Cass crouched next to Jason until she put a steadying hand on his back.
He reached up and cupped Jason's face in both of his hands. "Jason? Jay?"
Jason's eyes fluttered, barely opening into slits. He didn't have a voice, but his lips twitched and Dick could make out his name in the shape of them.
"I'm here, little brother. I've got you." He leaned down and pressed his forehead to Jason's, hands still on his cheeks. "You're okay, baby brother. We're okay."
Jason reached up, fumbling, until his hand found the back of Dick's neck and gave it a weak squeeze. His lips twitched again, forming silent words.
Dick let out a shuddering breath. There was salt on both of their faces now.
"Love you too, Little Wing."