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The world doesn't stop turning.
"Hood! Catch!" Nightwing throws his escrima sticks without hesitation, once he realized Red Hood ran out of ammo. Red Hood easily catches it in the air, turning up the voltage up to its highest setting to take down the alien parasite that's attacking them.
Reassured by his safety and progress, Dick calls out, "Cover me!" and runs into what should be the control center for the spaceship.
He ignores the cacophony of the battle behind him, focusing on the next step of their mission instead. He examines structure after structure, until he finds what he hopes is the control panel. He takes out the cybernetic device Cyborg entrusted to him and places it down on the flat surface. By the way the device lights up and realigns itself to connect to the ship's control system, he thinks he might've gotten it right. A progress bar appears on the device's screen, gradually filling up. At the speed it's going, Nightwing estimates…
"15 minutes!" He yells out behind him. "As soon as Cyborg takes control, we can blow this popsicle stand!"
Red Hood doesn't answer.
In fact, Nightwing can't hear any noise coming from outside of the room.
Nightwing's immediately on alert.
Please no.
He spares a quick glance at the device—18%— and runs back into the corridor, heart thudding in his chest, where he had asked Hood to hold the line.
Time doesn't stop.
The world doesn't stop turning.
The world doesn't stop turning even as Jason lies bloody and broken.
"J… Jay…"
He can't get the words out, throat closing up. His vision tunnels to where Jason lies, mauled and slowly bleeding out. The room contracts and expands around him along with his breath. His mind floats somewhere above his body, because he can't feel his limbs anymore.
But then Jason's eyes slide over to him, lips parting with the intent to speak— only to cough up more blood and dye himself with more red.
Nightwing jolts back into his body and rushes over to help. He kneels over Hood's body and catalogues all of Hood's injuries… and doesn't know where to start. There are several lacerations spanning the entirety of his torso, a head injury that's bleeding with vengeance, several smaller cuts and bruises across his arms and legs… and those are only the visible injuries.
He's losing blood. Fast.
Nightwing taps his communicator and orders, "I need immediate evacuation for Red Hood. He's severely injured." He presses down on the wound on his chest, trying to staunch the bleeding however he can. "I repeat, I need immediate medical assistance for Red Hood! "
He only gets static in reply.
Nightwing curses under his breath and turns his attention to Red Hood instead. "Stay with me, Hood. Help is on the way." He attempts to sound as certain and confident as he can, trying to keep his hands firm and steady. The last thing either of them need is for Nightwing to lose his head right now.
He will not lose Jason today. He will not . He refuses to.
Jason grunts, his features twisted in pain. His voice is wrong, too quiet and feeble when he asks, "D…ick?"
"Yes, it's me . It's me… You're going to be okay, you hear me?" Dick orders. Begs. His fingers quickly become coated with blood. The wound refuses to stop bleeding.
There's so much blood… Why is there so much blood?
" Jason ," he pleads, watching Jason struggle to focus on him, eyes becoming glassy. " Jason! "
Jason raises a trembling hand and grabs his wrist with such a weak, weak grasp. His face twists in pain with every small movement.
"Dick." More blood pours out of his mouth when he speaks. "It's okay."
"It will be." Dick hates the way his breath hitches and voice shakes. "The Titans will be here any minute now. They'll come and we'll patch you up. You'll be just fine, Jason."
Jason's smile looks more like a grotesque grimace. "No, I… won't be."
" Shut up . You don't know what you're talking about," Dick hisses through gritted teeth. " Nothing's going to happen to you."
Jason coughs up more blood. The front of his uniform is darker than it was a few minutes ago. Blood drips down the kevlar suit to the floor. Perhaps it's the proof of his own mortality, or a flashback to a similar incident, but Jason looks lost as he stares down at himself. There's something so crushingly vulnerable in his eyes when he says, "I don't want to fight, Dickie…"
"Oh, god." Dick chokes on a sob, curling over Jason's body. "I'm sorry, I don't want to fight either. I'm so sorry , Jason."
His vision blurs with tears and Jason weakly interlaces their hands ( still warm ) together where they rest on his stomach ( still warm ).
"Hey… Dick?"
Dick hums in question, can't bring himself to speak.
"Is it still—" Jason takes a shakey, ragged breath, "Is it fine if I'm still afraid of dying?"
Something inside of him breaks.
The tears spill over.
"I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. I'm so sorry, Jason, please— "
He keeps sobbing and blubbering over Jason's hurt and bleeding body. He's gripped with panic every time he notices Jason's body growing colder, or the way his grasp becomes weaker. Dick's heart constricts so painfully in his chest that it's surely impossible for him to keep living if Jason's gone.
"Don't cry…" A futile request. "You look… like a mess." The familiar cheeky jab only makes the sorrow in his heart grow deeper. When he doesn't respond, Jason tries again, "Hey, Dickie?" A bloody smile. "Kiss me?"
The last wish of a dying man.
Dick closes the distance between them to share a kiss. He swallows down the metallic tang of blood and the salty taste of tears. The kiss is wrong on every level—it's bloody, desperate, and tastes too much like goodbye—but Dick dives into it again and again like a starving man. He presses his lips to Jason's again and again, refusing to let him go. Jason kisses back just as desperately, clinging to him with whatever strength he has left, breathing ragged and heavy.
"Dick," Jason whispers against his lips. "You know, right? That I've always… loved you?"
"Please," he begs instead. "Don't do this. You can't leave yet."
Jason's eyes fall shut for longer than a blink and terror grips Dick's heart.
"Jason!"
Jason tiredly blinks his eyes open but can't make eye-contact with Dick. "'m tired , Dickie."
"You can't fall asleep, Jason." Dick prays to every higher power that exists to give him one last miracle, to do something to save Jason's life. "How will I live without you?"
Jason struggles to keep his eyes open. He mumbles something nonsensical and the next time he blinks, he keeps his eyes closed.
" Jason! "
His breathing evens out, coming shorter and slower. His hand keeps getting colder in Dick's grasp.
"No, no, no, please ."
His chest barely moves when he takes shallow breaths.
"I love you."
Dick confesses the feelings he was too afraid to until it's too late.
"I love you, I love you."
He keeps repeating until his voice goes hoarse and scratchy.
"I love you, I love you, I love you."
But Jason will never get to hear it.
Jason will never say it back.