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The sharp clink is all the warning he gets before “Don’t fucking move.”
Dick opens his eyes wide and sees Jason Todd standing over his head, over his bed with a gun aimed at Dick’s face. It’s ok, he’s had this nightmare before. If Jason’s sneer is a little more crooked or his gun a bit shinier in the moonlight, well Dick’s not really in a position to care.
“Jason.” Dick whispers. His throat is dry from sleep, or fear.
Jason doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t move like he’s the one who’d been ordered to be still. Dick sits up. The sheets pool around his waist. Jason takes a step back. Steadies two hands on his gun, shaking like he’s the one afraid.
They stare at each other in the darkness. Finally Dick says “If you’re going to shoot me Jay, just shoot me.”
Jason licks dry lips. “And why...would I shoot you?”
Dick cocks an eyebrow at that. “You mean besides the fact that you’ve got a gun pointed at my face?”
Jason looks at his hands on the gun, like he’s surprised it’s there at all. This isn’t how it normally happens, but Dick’s getting better at this. Normally Jay comes in through the window, points the gun, and pulls the trigger. Dick barely has time to feel anything but guilt before he wakes up gasping.
“You have to stop doing this Jay.” Dick tells the ghost in the corner. “I’m getting better. You have to stop coming”
Jason seems confused. He lowers his gun and cocks his head to the side. A wry smile replaces the sneer on his face. “Do I do this often Dickiebird? Visit you in the middle of the night?” He seems amused and now Dick is really confused because the Jason in his dreams is almost always vengeful, always angry.
“Almost every night.” Dick whispers to the dream. “But it’s been getting better. I’ve been getting better...at living without you.”
He chokes on the words a little because between the alcohol and cigarettes, what he’s been doing for the past year and half has been the lowest form of existence that could charitably be called living. Coping, maybe, but not living. He doesn’t talk to Bruce, or Barbara or anyone from that life. He does enough to get by. He goes home, and he dreams of Jason.
“I come into your room and shoot you every night?” Jason asks and he seems genuinely curious.
Dick flushes. “Not every night. Some nights you do other things to me.” Things they never had time for before Jason died. Things Dick never got around to saying. Things Dick barely had time to acknowledge before it was ripped away from him forever.
That was probably the worst part, the loss of what might of been, and Dick’s subconscious is far too willing to supply an endless array of what ifs. This is a new one, but Dick’s always had an active imagination.
Jason doesn’t say anything, barely moves, barely breathes. “I never knew.” He says finally.
Dick shrugs. “I never told you.” Jason had been too young, too angry, too in love with being Robin, it wouldn’t have been right for Dick to say anything. At least that’s what he tells himself when the what if’s get to be too much.
“But I still come into your room and shoot you...why?” This Jason seems...different than the others. Less sure, less certain, and maybe that’s because Dick’s less certain he needs to keep dreaming like this.
“I wasn’t there for you little wing. I let you down.”
“No” Says Jason, horrified. His gun clatters to the floor. “No Dickiebird, God no.”
“Yes” Says Dick plainly. “I told you I would always be there when you needed me and I wasn’t.” Dick’s not crying. He’s way past tears on this anyways. But the ghost looks at him with something like pity in his black eyes and Dick wants to sob.
“Please Jay.” He begs instead “I need you to forgive me. Forgive me and never come back. Please.” If dream Jason can forgive him, then maybe Dick is on his way to forgiving himself.
The ghost bends down and picks up the gun. He fits it snugly into the waistband of his jeans. “Ok.” He tells Dick as if it were as simple as that, and maybe it is after all. After a long moment where he just stares at Dick, Jason turns towards the open window. Dick wants to stop him, wants to let him go.
Jason’s got one leg out the window when he stops. He turns to look at Dick. “There’s nothing to forgive you know.” He tells him.
Dick wants to protest, but Jason’s crossed the room with inhuman speed. He bends and presses his lips to Dick and Jason tastes like stale cigarettes. “You should have said something.” Jason whispers and it echoes through the room. He’s back at the window sill again in no time.
“I know” Dick whispers back. Hindsight is 20/20 and he’s had a whole year and a half to think it over.
“I won’t come back like this if you don’t want me to.” The ghost offers.
Dick manages a small smile. He’s not sure he wants to let go of seeing Jason like this. It hurts sure. Sometimes, like tonight, it feels like his heart is being ripped out of his fucking chest. But at least sometimes he still gets to talk to Jason, still see him, but Dick knows he needs to let go.
“That’d be nice Jay. Thanks.”
The ghost gives him one more long look before he jumps. It’s four stories up, but that wouldn’t be a problem for Jason alive or dead.
Dick stares at the window for a long time before flopping back onto his pillow.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
In the morning Dick’s room smells like Jason, and his mouth tastes like memories he never had.