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When Jason willingly showed up to the manor, Dick thought he was hallucinating again. Then, when Jason spent the night just as willingly, Dick was convinced he was going crazy. It was only when he caught Jason sleeping in until evening that he realized something else might be going on.
He gingerly knocked on the door.
“Little wing, you know Alfred’s making cookies, right?” he called, “you’re gonna miss them if you don’t get up.”
There was no answer. Dick was respecting Jason’s privacy by knocking first, and he was exercising his seniority as an older brother by opening the door anyway. When he stepped inside, he found a shivering mound of blankets on the floor, surrounded by fallen pillows and half of the bedsheets.
“Jason!?”
A groan came out from under the shivery lump. Dick pulled back the covers and saw his brother’s flushed face, glassy eyes flickering green, and hair damp with sweat.
“G-get back!” Jason shouted suddenly.
He pushed at Dick with seemingly all his strength. It was pretty feeble.
“Hey, easy,” Dick said, “it’s me. You don’t look so good. How ‘bout we get you to the med bay and-”
“Batman’s coming for me,” Jason panted, “then you’ll be sorry!”
Oh !@#$.
“Jason, you’re not back there. You’re in the manor. It’s me, Dick.”
Footsteps sounded outside the room.
“Tch. What has Todd done to himself this time?”
Despite Jason’s struggles and protests, Dick put the back of his hand to his brother’s forehead. He nearly recoiled at the heat he felt there.
“Damian, tell Alfred to prep the med bay. Help me get Jason down there.”
Jason fought them every step of the way. Kicking, punching, even biting.
Tim was at the bat computer, working on a case. He turned towards the commotion coming through the cave.
“What the-”
Dick slammed Jason on the med bay cot, holding him down by the chest while Damian pinned his legs.
“We. Are. Trying. To. Help!”
Tim shuffled over, and Jason nearly socked him on the jaw. Tim immediately went to grab a syringe, but Dick glared at him.
“We’re not putting him under,” he said.
“You wanna deal with the Tasmanian Devil then?”
Jason froze, getting a good look at Tim.
“No no no no no no-”
He began fighting with renewed fervor.
“Richard, I suggest we inject him with the sedative now,” Damian said, hanging on for dear life.
“…Fine.”
Jason saw the syringe coming closer.
“No! I don’t want it! Get away from me! You’re sick!”
“Actually, you’re the one who’s sick,” Tim remarked, jabbing him in the shoulder.
It was only when Jason’s struggles died down and his eyes fluttered shut did Dick and Damian release him. They and Tim let out a collective sigh of relief.
Alfred came down the stairs.
“Might I be of some assistance, Master Dick?”
“Alfred, Jason’s sick. We need to figure out what he’s got.” Dick said.
“I understand.”
Dick watched as Alfred started running the necessary tests on Jason. It was strange, he looked so peaceful like this, as if everything was fine in the family, and that night in the warehouse had never happened, and Dick had actually intervened like he was supposed to, and-
Dick felt a small hand land on his shoulder. He glanced down at Damian.
“You are ruminating, Richard. It is not helping.”
Dick chuckled, plastering on a smile and ruffling Damian’s hair.
“I’m fine. It’s Jason that needs the help.”
Damian wasn’t convinced, but he said nothing further on the matter. Open communication wasn’t this family’s strong suit. They trusted each other with their lives, but not with their feelings. Alfred got Jason hooked up to an IV with medicine and fluids. Hopefully, he would be more lucid when he woke up.