Chapter Text
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“Are you sure the transmitter isn’t working?” Jason asks, for what feels like the fifteenth time.
Dick resists the urge to throw him overboard, knowing he’d have to be the one to fish him back out of the ocean, regardless of what the kid says about his apparent swimming skills. Knowing how to swim in a lake and being dunked in the sea, stranded in the middle of nowhere, are two very different things.
“Check it yourself if you want.” Dick tosses the little black device over to Jason, who proceeds to do the exact same thing Dick had just done right in front of him. “See?”
“Doesn’t hurt to make sure,” Jason says, and Dick can’t tell if he’s being genuine, or smug, or grouchy, or bratty, or a great deal of other things.
Dick decides to move on. “Okay, inventory update.” He looks at Jason expectantly.
Jason’s back straightens automatically, hands stilling. He holds eye contact with Dick as he says, “In terms of food and water: two water bottles—one mostly empty, the other quarter full—and three packets of peanuts. One lollipop—green. We maintained all the weapons and tools—escrima sticks, five batarangs, four grapple hooks. We also have mostly- packed emergency medical kits, but we’re a little short on the bandages and painkillers in yours. Two rebreathers. One half empty canister of shark repellent, which we really could’ve used right now.”
“The dehydration’s gonna get to us before the sharks do,” Dick says. His headache has gotten worse as Jason itemised their meagre belongings. “Good job, Robin!” Jason sticks his tongue out at Dick, but Dick sees the glow in his eyes at the praise.
“B knows our location,” Jason says confidently. “He’ll realise something’s up when I don’t check in, and when he can’t get in touch, he’ll come find us.”
“That’s the hope,” Dick says on the tail end of a sigh. He really wishes he hadn’t told his team he’d be radio silent over the course of the weekend. Garth’s too far away to contact, and Dick doesn’t know other Atlanteans well enough to risk calling for help.
Everywhere around them is endless, endless blue. The sky is cloudless—normally something Dick loves, but today it’s worrying. Had it been colder, they might’ve succumbed to hypothermia, but there’s now the fear that the heat that saved them from a terrible—and far quicker—death will lead to a much slower one. He’s familiar with water, what with living on Titans Island, but it’s completely different when they’re stranded in the middle of the ocean. And to make matters worse, they’re in a tiny little inflatable boat.
Dick zips up his suit as much as he can, flipping up the collar as well to cover his neck. He grimaces at the sight of Jason—everything apart from his torso and feet are absolutely bare.
Jason, meanwhile, takes off the cape and dunks it into the ocean, draping it over his head. “See,” he says, voice all smug, “this is why you shoulda kept a cape.”
Dick snorts. “Hey, least my entire body’s covered. You’re gonna get so sunburned.” But that’s not all that’s going to happen, is the niggling thought in the back of Dick’s mind. Jason’s going to dehydrate faster. He’s going to get heatstroke. And he’s younger and his body’s only just started filling out from receiving proper nutrition, not to mention growing, so he’s thin as a stick. Dick has a much better chance of surviving.
And besides, Jason’s his responsibility.
“You designed this shit, you dweeb,” Jason says, still leaning back against the side of their rubber boat. The yellow of his cape blends in perfectly.
Dick fights the urge to rub at his forehead, knowing it won’t help with the throbbing. Besides, it’s better if he doesn’t worry Jason. “You didn’t have to keep it.” With the food and water they have now, they’ll probably last a couple days.
Jason stares at him, and it takes Dick a moment to remember what he’d just said. “‘Course I did,” he says. “It’s Robin. How else is Robin supposed to look?”
Any way you want him to? Dick thinks, but doesn’t say. Are these ideas Jason’s gotten from Bruce, or a conclusion he’s come to on his own? Maybe he should say something, but at that moment the boat tips a little just as Dick’s crouching up to reach for the transmitter back, and he gets hit with a dizzy spell that brings black spots to the forefront of his vision.
Dick slumps back down to his side of the boat, blinking rapidly and trying to shove down the wave of nausea that’s risen out of nowhere.
“You get seasick?” Jason’s voice is incredulous.
“Shut it,” Dick says in lieu of response.
“I thought you’d spend a tonne of time in water,” Jason continues, now carefully pouring some of the water into the other bottle to even them out, “‘’cause of Aqualad.” There’s a question in his eyes that Dick pretends not to see, though he knows he’ll feel bad about it later. And Jason in the Tower the last time had actually been… fun.
“We’re usually in the T-Sub,” Dick says absentmindedly, swallowing convulsively and trying to keep his stomach contents where they belong. The world is still spinning but if he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, it’s a little better.
Jason hands Dick his water bottle back. “One sip per hour,” he says, voice far too sincere for someone his size. “We can make it last until the afternoon if we do that.”
“Thanks, Little Wing.” Dick watches Jason’s movements, catalogues the little winces he makes, the way his movements are starting to get a little sluggish. He’s already starting to be affected by the heat radiating off the sun, made worse by the fact that he’d already been exhausted and bruised by the time they’d ended up in this boat.
Five hours later, and Jason’s definitely showing symptoms, no matter how hard he’s trying to seem fine. Dick hopes he’s masking his own problems better. His hair is crusty from the saltwater, and he really needs to think about packing sunscreen next time, but his headache has become an absolute pounding in his skull, and waves of nausea he’s having to hide waves of nausea by pretending to be sleepy. His tongue feels like a piece of leather in his mouth.
“Drink,” he announces at the hour mark, uncapping his bottle and watching to make sure Jason does the same. When Jason’s swallowed, and Dick sees the sheen of water on his lips before he licks away the precious droplets, he lowers his own bottle and pretends to wipe away remnants from his face with his arm.
His eyes close of their own volition. Dick doesn’t even feel thirsty anymore; there are discomforts and pains far greater than the one that he’s sure should be ravaging him by now.
From across the tiny boat, Jason says, “Bedtime already, old man?”
Dick knows he responds, but even a moment later he has no idea what he’s just said, only that it’s made Jason snort.
And after that he loses time—or, at least, he thinks he loses time. He’s pretty sure. He’ll blink, and the sun will be in a different spot, or Jason will have shifted without Dick feeling the boat rocking. But what makes matters worse is that after it happens a few times, Jason starts to get this pinched look on his face, his tiny childlike face that, in a just world, wouldn’t be so familiar with worry.
“Drink,” Jason repeats. The sun hits his bottle from the back, and half the contents are now gone.
“Hey,” Dick says, eyes squinting at the horizon behind Jason, “is that…” He leans forward, as though trying to get a better view.
Jason places his bottle down with barely a glance, moving faster than he has all day to whirl around. Dick hates that the naked hope in his eyes will vanish almost immediately, but in the meantime, he swaps their bottles. He’ll have to do it more and more now, so Jason doesn’t realise they’re being swapped.
“Never mind,” Dick says, but Jason keeps looking, scanning the endless blue for a glimmer of anything.
“I have,” Jason says drowsily, “so much more sympathy for Green Arrow.”
Dick hums in response. “Least he had a whole island eventually.” He doesn’t want to think about not being found, though it’s getting hard to think about anything now. “Wouldn’t mind crashing onto Ollie’s island right about now.”
“Coconuts,” Jason says, the way kids his age usually say ‘chocolate’ or ‘arcade’.
“Shade,” Dick adds, and on it goes, until Jason’s suddenly shaking Dick. “What?” he says, lifting an arm up to bat at him, though his arm only half cooperates.
“You keep falling asleep!” All that water just gave Jason the energy to still get pissed, Dick thinks in amusement.
“Have the lollipop,” Dick tells Jason. The sunset is leaving pretty pink and red streaks in the sky, and he keeps losing himself in the colours. “I hate that flavour.”
Jason frowns. “Then you get the third packet of peanuts.”
“We can share.” It’s easier to share peanuts and make it seem like you’re eating. Dick probably wouldn’t be able to swallow a single one even if he wanted to, his throat is so dry.
“Your voice is all slurred.”
“Just tired, Jay.”
There’s the sound of a packet rustling; Dick wants to look but he can’t find the energy to peel his eyelids open. He hears a shuffle, and then there’s something pressed to his mouth.
“No.” He turns his head away, chapped lips burning where the salt has touched them.
“C’mon, it’s time to drink. And then you gotta eat at least two peanuts.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, you weirdo.” The words have no bite to them, but the thinly veiled fear makes Dick wish there had been. “Stay awake, okay?”
“Pinky promise,” is what Dick thinks he says. “Jus’ tired from the mission, Jay. Don’t worry about me.”
He thinks Jason says something in response, but he’s too tired to register it.
It’s dark and stuffy when Dick blearily awakens. He barely wants to peel his eyelids open— – too much effort, for one thing, but there’s also comfort in the darkness.
It’s the reminder of Jason that jolts his heartrate up, but dimly, he registers an all-too-familiar beeping. Dick opens his mouth, trying to lift an arm to scrub at his eyes, and breaks into a coughing fit.
He bends over and struggles to sit up in an attempt to alleviate his lungs, trying to draw in a proper breath. Wheezing and coughing, he can barely see through the cracks in his eyelids that now have a sheen of water over them from the force of his coughs.
“Dick?” There’s the shuffle from the other end of the room. And then a screen is being wheeled away, and Dick sees Jason. “Holy shit, you’re alive!”
Dick takes a moment to regain his breath, accepting the glass of water Jason hands him. “A little sailing trip isn’t gonna kill me,” he says, voice croaky; though maybe it’s a little too soon, because Jason’s face twists and does all sorts of complicated things. Dick hastily tries to change the subject. “You’re so pink!”
Jason scowls, padding over. Just as Dick had predicted, his entire face is red and burnt—Dick’s willing to bet that underneath the fluffy robe Jason has on, his arms and legs are the same. He winces a little.
“You had a concussion!” Jason snaps, and it looks like it hurts his sunburnt face to frown so deeply. “And you were really dehydrated! You weren’t drinking anything, were you?” It’s barely a question.
Dick hesitates. “We had no idea when help was coming. I have a much better chance of survival than you do.”
“I told you B was gonna figure it out.”
Dick sighs. “Chew me out when you look less like a tomato. My throat’s too dry.”
Jason immediately looks contrite. “You owe me, though,” he says. “I thought you were gonna die.”
“I wasn’t gonna die,” Dick says, seeing the situation a little clearer now than he’d been able to while they’d been lost at sea. “It takes about three days to die from dehydration. Just would’ve taken me longer to recover.”
“And you shoulda told me you had a concussion!” Jason continues as though Dick hasn’t said anything.
“In my defence, I had no idea until you told me,” Dick says tiredly. Already, he can feel the pull of sleep dragging him under; he shifts his arm so the IV line isn’t pulling at his skin anymore, and slumps back against the pillows.
“Are you gonna sleep again? You’ve been asleep for like a whole day.”
“Shush.” Dick’s careful to only touch Jason’s middle as he drags him down to lie beside him. Jason struggles, and then releases all his limbs at once, muttering something about having to take an aloe bath soon, but by then, Dick’s too far gone to register it.