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Dick sighed. He hated Arkham breakouts. It had been a week and he, nor anyone else, had gotten a full night's sleep. At least Jason and him had finished up the last of Penguin's henchmen. One more perimeter check, then they could go on their normal patrol routes, and go home.
Maybe sleep for a week. They'd gotten most of their main villains, the rest were in hiding to plot for a month or two.
"You check the north side, I'll take the south," Dick told Jason.
Jason grunted, and gave him a quick thumb up.
Dick had gotten halfway around the building without incident when his comm buzzed.
"I've got more guys. Get over here."
"Copy." He sent a grapple up, deeming it faster than going around on foot. If Jason had actually asked for help, then he was going to get there as fast as possible, god knows how long he'd strike it out on his own again if he thought they wouldn't come. It had taken too long to regain his trust for that.
Dick tucked into a role, taking out one of the many goons as he landed. He quickly moved to Jason's back, falling into a familiar rhythm attacking and defending.
Gunshots rang out behind him. Dick had stupidly assumed they'd all been from Jason, but a pained gasp behind him made him realize he was wrong. Dick snapped his head back, only to receive a glare through a helmet.
"I'm fine, finish taking out Penguin's men."
Dick didn't necessarily believe him, but before he could question Jason further, he was fighting another goon. It only took another minute or two for them to finish everyone off, but in that short time, Jason had begun moving slower. Less precise.
Dick had the feeling he'd made a mistake in not dragging him the hell out of dodge when he was first shot.
It made him sick when his feeling was justified by Jason stumbling. Nearly hitting the ground had Dick not caught him.
"Little wing," Dick choked out. "Say something! Please anything!"
"Didn't realize m' bulletproof vest got so old. Bullet to the chest is a bitch." Jason said, his words slurred.
Dick let out what must've been a near hysterical laugh. How awful of a brother did he have to be for Jason to die on him? To fail one of his baby brothers again? "I need the Batmobill now. Jason's been shot," Dick said, pressing gauze into the wound. The others were talking over one another on the comms, but he couldn't quite bring himself to understand them. As long as they got there, he didn't really care what they said anyway.
Dick worked to remove Jason's helmet. His hands were shaking, but he needed to be able to see that Jason was alive. "You're gonna be okay," Dick whispered. "We'll get you back to the cave, and you'll be back to complaining we don't read anything but case files.
"Not like 'm dying."
"Right. Good. Just keep thinking that. You're not dying."
"I know."
"I'm not going to let you die again."
Jason didn't say anything after that. A grunt here and there, but it was clear the blood loss had gotten to him. Dick wasn't sure how long he held Jason in his lap until Bruce arrived. The two of them got Jason in the back seat, and then they took off to the Batcave at a speed that would've gotten anyone else arrested, even in Gotham.
They slid to a stop on two wheels, Dick already pulling Jason out, meeting Alfred and the gurney half way. He'd been shooed out of the room to clean the blood off himself, but he couldn't make himself go the rest of the way to the showers. Not with Jason possibly dying because he hadn't been better. Dick was partially pulled from his own mind at the sound of engines entering the cave.
Tim unmounted his bike, Cass not far behind. "Dick! Is Jason okay?" he asked.
"Others coming. Anyone tell Duke?" Cass signed.
Right, Duke was day shift, Dick thought. He was asleep. Someone needed to tell him. God, would he have to tell him?
"I... I don't know," Dick finally said.
Cass signed something to Tim that Dick didn't catch, but Tim started pulling him up from where he had apparently sunk to the ground.
"Cass is going to tell Duke," Tim said. "I'm taking you to take a shower and clean clothes, okay?"
Dick just nodded.
Walking back into the cave, he had to admit he felt a little better. More present, at least. Everybody was sitting or standing by the doors of the infirmary, talking quietly amongst themselves or working.
"Me and the others got here after you got in the shower," Barbara said, looking away from her computer. "We haven't gotten any news yet."
"Right."
Damian walked up to Dick, hugging him. "You looked like you needed a hug," was all he said. Had it been under other circumstances, Dick would've chuckled at the excuse he would give when he wanted a hug, but as it was, Dick just squeezed him back tightly.
It was a few hours before Bruce and Alfred came out of the medbay, looking worse than either had in years, with red rimmed eyes.
Tim was the first to speak. "No," He uttered, clearly recognizing the look. Bruce had given it to him quite a few times in his tenure as Robin, especially in the beginning when he'd still mistake him for Jason.
"He's gone," Dick said, sounding eerily hollow even to his own ears. It wasn't a question.
That had seemingly been the final thing to push Bruce over the edge. He let out a sob, followed shortly by Alfred wiping his own tears from his eyes. There was nary a dry eye in the cave after that. Few of the others had ever seen them like this, and Dick wished they never had to. Watching your father and grandfather figures break down wasn't something anyone wanted to see.
"Can— can I see him?" Dick finally asked.
Bruce gave him a shaky nod.
"Thank you," Dick said, barely above a whisper.
Standing in the medbay, Dick didn't know which was worse, retuning home to find out his brother was dead and buried, or looking at Jason's body covered in the thin sheet, knowing the first time he came back was a miracle that had little to no chance of repeating itself. Dick pulled down the sheet. Jason looked peaceful. That was better than the vast majority of bodies he'd seen in his life. At least Jason died knowing he was loved, even if they'd failed him again.
"I'm sorry, I—" Dick's voice cracked as he took Jason's hand. It wasn't even cold yet. "I'm so, so sorry, Little Wing." Tears were falling down his face, hitting Jason's hand. He felt himself being pulled into a hug.
"It'll be okay, Chum." Bruce said, rocking him, not unlike he would when he was little and went to him after a particularly horrible nightmare. Bruce kept whispering similar platitudes, that they both knew did no good, in a poor attempt to comfort both himself and Dick.
"Father," Damian said, uncertainly, and when had everyone else came in? Dick hadn't noticed it. "Todd is breathing. Corpses do not typically do that."
Bruce untangled himself from Dick, letting out a confused sound before rushing to press his fingers to Jason's throat. "I've got a pulse!" Bruce said, clearly not fully believing it.
Alfred pushed through. "Let me have a look. By God..." He said, sharing a look with Bruce before they began hooking machines back up to Jason. His pulse was slow, but it was there.
It took a day for Jason to wake up. Usually they would've taken shifts sitting with the unconscious man, but after what had happened no one could bring themselves to leave for too long, in fear if they looked away for too long he really would be gone.
Dick practically tackled Jason in a hug. "We thought you were dead!"
"I told you I wasn't dying." Jason said. "Could I get some water or something? Bleeding out really makes a guy thirsty."
Bruce held water to Jason's mouth for him to drink. "Jaylad, Your heart stopped for nearly an hour."
"I'm capable of drinking," Jason complained, although he still drank the water. "I don't know why you care."
"We love you," Alfred said. "You gave us all quite the fright."
"Okay, but it's not like my heart hasn't done that before."
"And?" Tim asked. "Pretty much everyone here has had their heart stop at least once—"
"Yes, you're not special, Todd."
Tim glared at Damian. "But that doesn't mean we were pronounced dead on the table."
"Oh, that's what this is about."
Dick pulled back just far enough back to look him in the eye. "Of course it is!"
"I really thought you knew."
"Knew what?" Bruce asked.
"That I can't die," Jason said, giving everyone an exasperated look. "At least not from normal stuff like being shot."
"How would we know that?"
"I thought Talia told you."
"She didn't," Bruce said.
"How would she have learned of such?" Alfred asked.
"I guess someone killed me. A lot of the early crap with the League of Assassins is fuzzy at best."
"Is there anything else that we should know?"
"Well I mean..."