Chapter Text
Fire.
The same fire as that night, devouring the sky whole, searing into Jason’s world. Every evening, it reminds him—the taste of ash is so—
Cold
Like a corpse.
His corpse
Jason kneels, dazed. The fabric over his abdomen is charred; his cheeks streaked with soot. The inferno ahead dyes his eyes crimson. The explosion ruined nearly everything—including Jaime’s plans. Debris collapses in the flames, surging like tidal waves, hammering against Jason’s memories.
Footsteps approach through the smoke. Jaime—still in that ridiculous patterned red suit, now scorched and frayed. His hair is wild on one side; his mouth smeared with lipstick (or blood?), painting a quarter of his face red.
Staggering forward, he mutters to himself.
When he reaches Jason, he drops to his knees, cradles Jason’s face, and stares
“Jason, Jason, my dear.
Do you know how hard to murder your genius brother?”
His grip on Jason’s face tightened. He was already insane, but now he looked *deranged*—that kind of madness, his red mouth looking just like... like him.
Jason’s breathing accelerated wildly, his heart hammering like an engine. Everything was dragging him back to that night, the night of his death, pulling him toward hell. As if he was born to die, burn to die.
“Jason?”
Jaime’s grip loosened, his voice laced with confusion as his hands gently traced the grime on Jason’s face. But Jason knew—Jaime had found the scar on his left cheek.
That *"J."* That scar.
“Jason? Darling, look at me.”
Jason couldn’t. He was suffocating.
“Look at me.” Jaime’s voice softened. “Jason.”
He pulled Jason into his embrace, one arm around his shoulders, the other cradling the back of his neck. Jason’s gaze remained locked on the flames—he couldn’t look away.
The armor silently crept over Jaime's hand.
Khaji Da injected a mild sedative through micro-needles. Jaime felt Jason's heartbeat slow, like embers cooling.
*"But why did you do it, sweetheart?"*
*"I was still inside. Did you not care if the bomb took me too?"* Jaime didn't voice it aloud.
Did he truly want Tim dead? Did he really hate him?
*"Alright, darling."* Jaime cupped Jason's face again. *"We should go back... Pajarito escaped, but I promise he won't move too fast. We'll beat Owlman to the punch—return with a little 'gift' for the team."*
Jason's eyes wide, his eyes penetrated Jaime, as if he was looking at a ghost that existed in the past. He was bathed in fire, extinguished in anger and sadness.
*"Jason,"* Jaime whispered.
Then he kissed him.
When he pulled away, his mouth was full of blood.
And then—he laughed. A wild, hysterical cackle, so violent it choked him, blood streaming from his nose.
*Oh god. Oh god.*
He’d bitten off his tongue.
*"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—"*
*"KHAJI!"* Jaime screamed in his mind. *"KHAJI! GOD! MY 'BOYFRIEND' JUST BIT OFF MY TONGUE HAHAHAHAHAHA, HE BIT OFF MY TONGUE!"*
Khaji Da only chuckled softly in response—cold, affectionate. As usual.