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Jason kind of felt stuck. Just. In general.
He wasn’t actually sure what ghosts were supposed to do once they were dead. If there was some memo that he’d missed somewhere about the Rules of Ghost-hood and if he was somehow messing it all up.
Like. He was pretty sure that people weren’t supposed to be able to see him. Being alone with no one to talk to for however long sounded miserable. Like, enough to drive a person crazy. Where ghosts people? Or just the shadows of them?
Jason still felt like a real person, but how was he supposed to know for sure?
It definitely didn’t help that the only guy who could seem to see him definitely did not think that Jason was real. Which sucked for multiple reasons up to and including: If you think you’re hallucinating then maybe you should seek some help? Hello??
Not that Dick seemed to care when Jason told him that, he just laughed and shook his head. So Jason had to be sure to keep a close eye on him to make sure that he was okay, which only made Dick more sure that he was hallucinating which he wouldn’t seek help for and— basically they were stuck.
Which sucked.
Dick ignored him most of the time, but Jason got better at learning how to tell whether Dick actually couldn’t see him, or if he was just ignoring him. Jason didn’t know what made it so that Dick could and couldn’t see him.
He mostly could see him at home, sometimes on patrol, occasionally at work. Now and then Jason got to tag along with him on errands, too.
Even less great, sometimes Dick couldn’t see Jason and still spoke to him anyway. And acted like Jason was responding.
Which was. Y’know. Concerning.
And lending credence to the idea that Jason really was just another hallucination to Dick. A condition that Jason had not been aware that Dick had, and he felt a little bit bad that he hadn’t known because he would’ve told Dick that he wasn’t crazy or anything, but maybe he should. Take medication. Or something.
Jason didn’t actually know what they did for people who genuinely hallucinated on their own, as opposed to the people who got dosed with toxin or took too many drugs. But he thought that there was probably a medication for it. One that Dick should probably be on.
Maybe he had been? And then he ran out? Jason tried to ask him but Dick didn’t answer.
So. Jason was worried.
Which meant that he hovered, which meant that Dick—
Anyway. It wasn’t great.
Dick wasn’t sleeping, which made him slower than usual. He was taking more hits on patrol than he should have been, and he was snappish with Jason when he tried to nag him to take care of himself. Which hurt a little, but Jason could be the bigger person and acknowledge that Dick was struggling and he shouldn’t hold it against him.
It sucked. But it could have been worse.
Until some scum rapist pulled a knife when Dick tried to handcuff him during his day job.
The knife had skimmed Dick’s side, only avoiding being a worse hit because Dick’s dumb temp partner had shot the guy.
Which Dick hated.
Especially since the man bled out before the ambulance could get there.
Dick sat quietly as the doctor stitched his side up, ignoring Jason’s fretting by staring down at his bloody hands instead. He’d rinsed them, but there was still blood under his nails from desperately trying to keep the blood inside the man’s body.
Jason wasn’t entirely sure that he regretted the man’s death. Not when he’d tried to kill Jason’s brother. Not when the woman he’d attacked still hadn’t spoken a single word by the time they parted ways, pale in her ripped clothes as she stared blankly into the distance no matter who tried to talk to her.
But Dick wasn’t Jason, he didn’t know that being dead really wasn’t that bad, even if it was a little lonely.
“It’s okay,” Jason said, not for the first time, then “It’s not your fault, y’know?” Not that he thought that Dick would believe him. Dick had told Jason that he blamed himself for Jason’s death. Which. Was absurd on so many levels.
So Jason didn’t have much hope that Dick would let himself be convinced this time.
He followed Dick through the hospital, watching him walk out as soon as he physically could, forced to call a cab to get home and then immediately going to shower. Which was probably great for his stitches. He was gone for a long time, almost long enough for Jason to start to worry that he’d actually managed to drown himself. Or bleed out.
Dick was awfully quiet when he got out, bundling himself up in a sweatshirt and curling up on the couch, feet tucked underneath him as he fiddled absently with his phone.
Hesitantly, Jason sat down on the other end of the couch, arms wrapped around his legs where his knees were pulled up to his chest.
Sometimes Jason could control how he looked, pretend that he could dig through his dresser and pull on his favorite clothes.
Sometimes everything was too raw and Jason couldn’t look at himself because he could feel the blood dripping down his skin even if he wasn’t in pain anymore. Both Jason and Dick hated those days the most.
There were scabs on Jason’s knees, nothing really notable. Dick was ignoring him, and Jason maybe needed the Robin colors to keep himself from spiraling, because Robin always knew what to do and Jason didn’t and so feeling the cape settle around his shoulders made him feel a little braver.
“Are you okay?” Jason asked quietly. Dick didn’t answer.
Jason bit his lip, tapping his fingers against his legs as he tried to figure out what he needed to do.
“You should probably take some tylenol or something,” Jason hedged. Dick hadn’t picked up the prescription pain killers that the doctor had called in, and Jason felt weird telling him to break into the stockpile he kept for when the pain got really bad.
Dick didn’t answer.
Jason deflated a little bit, tucking his face down against his knees “I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled “I can go if you want?” He knew that sometimes his presence made everything worse.
Dick tensed, finally glancing over at Jason, his lips thin as he shook his head. “Don’t.” Dick said quietly “Just. Stay.”
Jason nodded “Okay” he said, relaxing a little bit with the confirmation that Dick wanted him there.
They sat quietly on the couch until Dick got up to get ready for patrol. Then Jason had to bully Dick to eat a snack at least before he went out, something that Dick did with great reluctance.
Jason hovered through patrol, watching Dick wince every time he strained his side. Jason had a bet running with himself on how many stitches Dick was going to pop before the night was over. He was not optimistic that it would be a small number.
Still, Dick didn’t listen when Jason told him to take it easy. He just kept pushing himself harder and harder until the sun started to rise in the sky and he finally let himself head back to the apartment.
“I told you.” Jason said, justifiably snide as Dick hissed, looping another stitch through his skin. The wound was ragged in a way it hadn’t been previously, swollen and painful looking.
“You’ve got antibiotics, right?” Jason asked, they’d given Dick a shot at the hospital, along with a tetanus booster because who knew where that knife had been. “And you’re gonna need to scrub the blood out of your suit before you wear it again, right?” Dick grimaced but didn’t answer.
“So you’re staying home for the next couple of days, right?” Jason pressed. Dick was forbidden from coming in to the station until he was healed up, and Jason had the bad feeling that Dick was going to get himself killed if he kept pushing himself like this.
“You wouldn’t let me go out like this,” Jason said “You gotta set a good example for the baby vigilantes” Dick scowled “It’s different.” He snapped, before realizing that he wasn’t supposed to be talking to Jason and shutting up again.
Jason huffed “It’s literally not,” He said, rolling his eyes. Dick ignored him. Which was rude.
Unsurprisingly, Dick crashed hard when he finally went to lie down, the sun starting to become bright outside.
Dick didn’t venture out of his room until almost evening, and Jason squinted at the shadow that seemed to be following his brother.
Like. Not just an emotional cloud, though that was obvious too, but an actual literal shadow.
Which was new. And weird.
Jason didn’t like it.
“Are you feeling okay?” Jason asked, a little bit hesitant as he eyed the shadow. Dick hummed, slumped over the kitchen table with a piece of dry toast in his hand.
“M’fine,” Dick mumbled, rubbing at his temple with his free hand “Just a headache.” Jason did not believe him. “You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?” Jason asked, knowing that Dick probably Would Not tell him anything.
He was a little bit more likely to tell Jason things than he had when Jason had been alive. He’d never told Jason about his acute schizophrenia until Jason found out the hard way. He’d never known how bad Dick was at taking care of himself either.
It was worrying.
As expected, Dick waved him away “I’m fine” He reiterated, shooting a look Jason’s way.
Jason didn’t believe him but there wasn’t really much he could do except hover and fret.
He followed Dick around, bullying him into making and eating actual food that night. Not that Dick had much of an appetite. Jason couldn’t blame him, but it was still a little bit frustrating
Jason couldn’t eat anymore, so he had to live vicariously through Dick, who wasn’t being particularly helpful in that endeavor.
Still, the day could have been worse.
A thought that Jason definitely shouldn’t have had because of course things could get worse. Things always got worse.
Like when Dick stumbled out off his room, still wet from the shower, his eyes far too wide as he skittered into the kitchen, as far away from the bathroom as he could get while staying in the apartment.
“Dick?” Jason asked, peeking into the kitchen, and glancing between Dick and the room he’d just burst out of.
Dick’s hair was dripping wet, soaking the collar of his shirt. Which was on backwards. Dick had his arms wrapped around himself, staring in the direction of his bedroom with a haunted expression.
“What’s wrong?” Jason asked, creeping a little bit closer when Dick didn’t answer.
The hair on the back of Jason’s neck rose, an uncomfortable feeling of being watched washing over him.
Slowly, Jason started to turn around.
“Don’t.” Dick said, his voice strangled “Not Jason.”
Jason saw a shadow in his peripheral, instinct taking over when he felt someone too close behind him.
Jason yelped, surprised, and whirled around, fist already flying before he could think about it.
He was surprised when his fists made contact, because Jason hadn’t been able to touch anything since he died, but things quickly began to make more sense when he saw who was behind him.
“Oh, ew” Jason said, staring down at the vaguely familiar face beneath him.
Then it clicked.
He glanced between Dick and the other ghost, seeing where Dick’s wild gaze was focused.
“You pervert!” Jason snarled, kicking the man in the gut “You think you can do whatever you want because you’re dead? Huh?” Jason kicked him again.
It was weird, feeling the hits connect. Jarring.
Jason was mad.
This creep had already made Dick start spiraling because he’d gone and died on him, and now he was gonna follow Dick home after he was dead and peep on him in the shower? “Gross.” Jason’s nose wrinkled.
The man scrambled back, looking at Jason with wide eyes.
“Get outta here!” Jason snarled “Scram! Or I’ll make you regret it!”
And, somehow, it worked.
The man bolted, like a coward, slipping through the apartment door and out of sight.
Jason cracked his knuckles, sneering after him “What a creep.” He spat, turning back to Dick, who was watching him with wide eyes.
“What?” Jason asked “You think I can’t handle myself? I’m Robin!”
Dick just stared at him for another long moment before slumping with a shaky exhale.
“Hey!” Jason said “You gotta dry your hair, or else you’re gonna get sick.” Dick huffed out a laugh, shaking his head but moving back towards the bathroom, presumably to grab his abandoned towel.
At least he was responding. The worst days were the ones where Dick shut down completely.
Maybe, just for once, it was good that Dick didn’t think that ghosts were real.