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From the corner of his eyes, Jason sees a bright glow around a mass of straight jet-black hair.
Bruce is standing next to him, talking idly with a possible investor for Wayne Enterprises, so Jason is careful to not snap his head around to look too fast. That'd cause suspicion. Instead, Jason yawns and covers his mouth, and lazily turns his head to glance around the massive ball room.
The boy is standing opposite a woman and man—presumably his parents—as they talk to each other, then turn to him and say something short. The boy nods, and the glow around him brightens a bit. He's standing next to the food table, and the drink glasses are stacked in an artistic pyramid behind him.
Jason feels his skin crawl. He turns to Bruce and says, "I'm going to get a drink, want anything?"
Bruce pauses his talking, and tilts his head at Jason. He knows something is up—he always does, he's the goddamned Batman—but he nods anyway, trusting Jason to be safe. "No," Bruce replies, for the sake of the cover. "Don't drink anything alcoholic though." He laughs then, like he's joking, but Jason knows he's being serious about that part at least.
Jason cuts through the crowd and weaves in between different couples, eyes firmly fixed on the the glowing boy. There's other hints of glow in the ballroom—an old woman who's smoking despite the 'no smoking inside' rule with a dim light around her grey hair, an older gentleman who's flushed red with a drink in his hand. But no one glows as much as the boy, who's so bright it's almost blinding.
The boy's parents have moved onto different conversations, so he stands alone by the buffet table. He's poking with a small fork at the food on his plate, and he looks pale.
Maybe he chokes on the food, Jason rationalises, or he's allergic? He shakes the thoughts, and steps closer to the boy.
"Hey," Jason says, quietly, and the boy jumps at being acknowledged.
"Uhm," the boy says. "Hello?"
The glow around the boy doesn't flicker, not like it usually does when Jason steps closer, so he chews on his lips.
"I'm Jason," he decides to introduce himself. That might help him. He sticks out a hand. "Jason Wayne."
The boy tilts his head, and for one weird second he looks like Bruce. Jason shakes the thought quickly enough. He tentatively takes Jason's hand, and squeezes it slightly as he shakes it. "Timothy Drake. Tim."
Jason smiles. A name. A name was good. He thinks back, at the name Drake, and flicks through his mind to remember where he'd heard that name before. Drake, Drake—Drake manor! The closest thing they have to a next door neighbour. As he lets go of Tim's hand, the glow flickers ever so slightly, but doesn't go away. "Enjoying the food?" He nods at the plate.
Jason usually enjoys gala food, but today he'd been reluctant to eat a lot of it since it wasn't Alfred made or approved. He'd tried a few things, but it wasn't anything extraordinary.
Tim shrugs one shoulder. "Haven't tried it yet." He picks up a piece of something—Jason's not sure what—with the fork and stares at it hard.
"Are you allergic to anything?" Jason asks, before Tim can eat anything.
"Shellfish."
"Is it bad?"
Tim laughs lightly. "Terrible. It's really dangerous."
Jason narrows his eyes at the food. "I think some of this is fish," he says. "I'm not sure if it's shellfish, but—better safe than sorry, right?"
Tim stares mournfully at the plate. He considers Jason's words, then sighs and places the plate on the table behind him. "Guess so. Thanks for the heads up." As he sets down the plate, Jason expects the glow to vanish or dim, but it stays annoyingly bright, and Jason chews his lip as he stares at it.
Jason picks up a cup of sparkling juice and offers it to Tim. "Here, have this instead."
Tim nods at Jason as he takes the cup. They drink in companionable silence, and the party continues around them. Eventually, Jason breaks the silence and asks Tim about different things—school, homework, holidays, hobbies—and they talk for a while. He tries to disguise it as interest in the boy, but his ultimate goal was seeing if anything dangerous was threatening the boys life.
The insistent and bright glow suggested that Tim only had days—maybe even hours—to live. But from everything Jason gathered, there wasn't anything truly life threatening. Jason thinks it might be a freak accident—maybe it's something that happens on the way to school, or at home? Jason worries his lip between his teeth as Tim continues to speak.
Eventually, Tim glances over Jason's shoulder, and sags slightly. "Ah," he says, sadly. "I need to go. It was—good talking to you, Jason. Thank you." The light around him shines so bright Jason has to squint and resist the urge to cover his eyes.
The glow is getting brighter. Jason feels his throat close up. He begins to breath faster, and grabs Tim's wrists before he can walk away. "Uhm," he says, dumbly. Tim's blinking at him. Think, think, think—Jason blinks at the thought. "Do you want to come to my house tomorrow? My brother's coming over and we're playing anew game, but we need three people and—"
Tim smiles. "I wouldn't want to impose," he says, lightly, as he pries his sleeve from Jason's hand. The glow around him is flickering, bright as the sun then dim as a broken light bulb. As if death is uncertain whether it wants to take Tim or not.
"It wouldn't be an imposition," Jason insists. "Dad sucks at games, and you seem really cool, and we're neighbours anyway, so—"
Tim presses his lips together. "I—" He pauses, and looks over his shoulder to where his parents are standing, still talking to a man in a blue suit. "Okay. Yeah. I can come."
Jason grins at him. "Awesome. Is twelve okay? We're kind of heavy sleepers, so—" Jason chews his lips. "Do you need someone to pick you up? I can ask Alf to do it."
Tim laughs. "Yeah, twelve is fine. I can make my own way there, though. I'll be there twelve." The glow is dimming so, so slowly.
"Okay," Jason says, as the light dims, dims, dims around Tim. "Okay. See you tomorrow, Tim. Be safe."
Tim smiles and nods. "I will. You too. See you tomorrow."
Jason watches the boy's retreating back, and glares at the glow around him that won't go away. The glow that means death.
***
Tim knocks on the door at exactly twelve, and Jason answers the door before Alfred has a chance to take off his baking mittens. He grins when he opens the door, and tries hard to not let that grin fall as he realises that the glow isn't as dim as he had hoped it'd be.
Tim hands him a bouquet of bluebells and pink carnations, with a few white roses in it.
"Uhm," Jason says, dumbfounded.
"For, uh—for inviting me over," Tim says, a blush creeping up his throat and face. "My mother said I shouldn't ever show up empty handed."
Jason's expression softens, and he notices the way Tim notices the change, and the boy's posture relaxes as Jason steps out of the way to let him in. "Thank you for these," Jason says. "I'll get Alfred to put them in a vase."
Tim takes his shoes off as Jason half-jogs and half-walks to the small sitting room nearest to the foyer. Alfred's sitting in the room, drink tea as he flips leisurely through a small book.
His eyes flick up towards Jason in the doorway. "That's a lovely bouquet, Master Jason," Alfred says, evenly. "Have you got an admirer?"
Jason laughs. "No," he says. "It just the boy I invited yesterday—Tim Drake. He bought these over as thanks?"
Alfred nods thoughtfully. He looks somewhat impressed as he closes his book and stands up. He gently takes the flowers from Jason's hands and stares at them. "Well," Alfred says, finally. "Tell him thank you. I'll go find a vase to house these. I trust you'll be in the den?"
"Yeah."
"Quite," Alfred hums. "I'll prepare some refreshments whilst we wait for Master Dick's arrival. Ensure your guest is comfortable."
"'Course," Jason replies, as he steps back out of the room. "Thanks, Alfie."
Alfred waves him off, and Jason makes his way back to the foyer, where Tim is still standing there awkwardly, his shoes in a neat row beside Jason and Bruce's messy pile. The glow around him is dimmer, but not enough to allow Jason to relax.
"Come on, Tim," Jason says, as he takes Tim's hand and leads him in and up the stairs. "Let me show you the den."
***
Dick shows up at around four. He walks into the den to find Jason and Tim playing minecraft with a split screen, despite there being a spare screen in the room. He leans against the doorway as he watches them hyper focus on the game play. Jason notices him standing there, but keeps quiet.
Alfred had brought them mini sandwiches not even half an hour after Tim had sat down, and they had eaten a few of them as they hopped between games. Jason takes one of the last few sandwiches—having not had a proper lunch due to Dick and Bruce's absence—and shoves into his mouth, before fixating on the screen again.
"You cannot be serious," he says, as Tim evades his attack again. "We've been playing for two hours. Fight me."
"I don't want to!" Tim says, almost whiny, but there's a laugh underneath the initial tone. "I just wanted to make redstone contraptions! I don't wanna do PvP!"
"Fight me!" Jason nearly shouts, and mashes his controller. Somehow, Tim still manages to evade his attacks. Tim cackles as he builds up and onto the tree canopy.
Jason, in a moment either of genius or weakness, throws his controller to the floor and physically jumps onto Tim, who cackles as he drops his own controller. Jason begins to tickle the smaller boy, and Tim lets out breathless laughs as Jason pins him by sitting on him.
"Jason, oh my gosh, get off," Tim squeals between fits of laughter. "It's not my fault you're bad at the game!"
"Oh, fuck you," Jason says, and begins to tickle Tim more.
He's about to launch an even stronger attack when he feels hands below his own armpits, and then he's being lifted up off of Tim, who stops laughing to blink up at Jason being lifted into the air.
Jason kicks slightly, not actually trying to get out of the hold, as he's held up above the floor. "Get off, Dickhead," he says, as he tries to aim a kick to Dick's crotch.
Dick expertly avoids the hit by dropping Jason onto the floor. Jason, unready for that, falls on his ass and glares up at his brother.
Dick smiles as he leans down to kiss the top of Jason's forehead. "Hiya, little wing," he says, as Jason halfheartedly swats at his face. "How are you?" His eyes flick up towards Tim then down to Jason again. "Who's your friend?"
Tim stands up abruptly, and sticks his hand out. Jason, very carefully, holds back a snort of laughter. The light around Tim dims a bit, and some gears begin to twist in Jason's head.
"I'm Timothy Drake," Tim says, like a little business man, which makes holding back laughter harder. "Tim. It's, uh—it's nice to meet you. Di… Richard?" The last word tilts up at the end, making it seem like a question. Jason actually snorts as he stands up.
Dick, clearly very amused, takes Tim's hand to shake it. "Nice to meet you too, Timmy. Just Dick is fine."
Tim looks starstruck, and Jason wonders why, exactly. Maybe he was a Wayne family fan? But, then again… Jason was a Wayne, and yet—
Maybe an acrobatics fan? Jason muses, as Dick flops down onto the couch to where Jason was sitting. Jason furrows his brow. Rude. He flops onto Dick's lap, and his brother oomphs as Jason puts his entire weight onto him. Tim, very carefully, sits where he was sitting before, careful not to touch Dick or Jason by accident.
Jason picks up the controller, and begins to play again. Tim follows his lead.
They play for an hour more—Dick giving increasingly more stupid advice whilst Jason laughs at him and Tim ignores it—before Alfred calls them over for dinner.
Tim stands, and begins to make his way to the foyer. "Where are you going?" Jason asks, as he pulls Tim's wrist.
Tim blinks at him. The light around him is so bright it makes Jason sick. "Home?" Tim answers, confused. "You're going to eat, I—"
"You're going to eat with us?" Jason says, but it sounds more like a question.
"Are you sure that's okay?"
Jason's eyebrows furrow. "Of course it is. Come on, Timmy." Tim hesitates for a moment, but then lets himself be pulled towards the family dining room.
When they sit at the table, Bruce glances up from his plate which is already full to greet them, then looks back down again. Then, he snaps his head up as if he'd forgotten something.
"Hello," he says carefully, looking at Tim in the eye.
"Hi, Mr Wayne," Tim replies, as Jason passes him the pan of fried vegetables. Tim scoops himself a spoonful, then passes the pan to Dick on his other side. Dick puts it back in the middle of the table. "How are you?"
"I'm well," Bruce says, increasingly confused. He looks over at Jason.
Jason snorts, and doesn't give him an explanation. This was infinity funnier, anyway. He uses the tongs to place two lamb chops on his plate, then places one on Tim's plate too, who nods at him thankfully and picks up his utensils to eat.
Bruce sighs. "I'm sorry, son, but Jason didn't tell me we'd have guests today," he says evenly. "What's your name?"
"I'm Timothy Drake," Tim says, putting down his utensils (which pisses Jason off—but it's more at Bruce then at Tim) and reaching over the table to shake hands with Bruce.
Bruce looks amused. "Drake… Janet and Jack's son?" His eyes flicker over to Jason, but he doesn't give him any reaction. Instead, he pours himself a cup of water and then begins to eat.
Tim nods, a shy smile on his face.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Tim," Bruce says. "Please, enjoy your food."
"Thank you, Mr Wayne." The glow around Tim settles, and becomes ever so slightly dimmer. Jason's heart settles as he picks up his cup of water.
He smiles into his cup.
Later, as the sun is setting, Jason insists on walking Tim back home.
"It's only a fifteen minute walk," Tim says, as Jason's slipping into his shoes and a light coat. "You really don't have to do that. I don't want to be any trouble."
"It's only a fifteen minute walk," Jason parrots, easily, as he zips up his jacket—despite the weather being quite warm. "It's no problem. I wanna hang out some more."
Tim looks flustered, but he doesn't try to convince Jason anything else. It's a losing battle anyway, and Tim seems to have realised that. The walk is companionable and almost silent, save for their breathing and footsteps.
Jason glances up at Tim as they near Drake manor, and his eyebrows twitch at the brightening glow around the boy. His breath stutters, becomes uneven. Days, hours—how can he stop it? Why does it keep coming and going?
"Tim," he says, and the desperation in his voice is barely concealed. He hopes Tim doesn't hear it. They're halfway through the Drake manor driveway. "Uhm. I really enjoyed hanging out with you today. Thank you for coming."
Tim tilts his head and smiles. "Of course," he says, but the light around him is still shining bright.
"I—" Jason swallows. "Be safe, okay? We should hang out again tomorrow."
And—to Jason's delight and relief—the light dims again as Tim smiles, and fiddles with his hands. "Yeah, okay. We will. Thanks, Jason."
"Anytime," Jason manages, and watches Tim's retreating back as it goes through his front door, and then the door shutting behind him.
The light around Tim had dimmed again. But it still hadn't gone out.
***
Bruce had interrogated Jason about his sudden friendship with Tim as soon as he'd gone back to the manor after walking Tim home, and Jason had lied his way through it smoothly, careful to keep his powers secret still. He'd said he had a hunch, that he felt Tim needed a friend, that they were neighbours anyway—and Bruce had agreed without much fuss.
Jason's instincts were always correct in the field as Robin, so the trust Batman had in him bled over to their normal lives. Jason thanks everything good that he doesn't have to explain his hunches in detail.
Tim comes over the next day to hang out—the glow dimmer but there and still too bright for comfort—then thanks Jason for inviting like he did the first time.
The glow around him brightens as the day passes, then by the time he's putting his shoes on to leave it's nauseatingly obvious. Jason offers to walk him home again, and again asks Tim over.
Tim hums whilst he thinks, then apologises and says he has school. Upon finding out they're at the same school, Jason offers to drive him over and Tim, after much argument, agrees, and the light dims again.
The next few weeks are difficult to navigate. They fall into a routine—Jason and Alfred will pick Tim up on their way to Gotham Academy, and then take him home on the way back. Tim will sometimes come to Wayne manor—when he asks his parents before he goes to school—and then Jason will walk him home before the sun sets.
"My parents are going to Malawi this afternoon," Tim replies, one morning, when Jason asks him if he could come over to Wayne manor.
"Oh," Jason replies, and catches Alfred's expression in the rear view mirror. "Do you… do you need to ask your nanny, then?"
Tim shrugs. "I don't think Mrs Mac counts as a nanny," he replies, vaguely. "But yeah. I could come over."
That evening, as Tim's snacking on some peanuts whilst Jason plays Hollow Knight in front of him, Tim glow is visible even when he's not looking at Jason. "I should get home," Tim says, as he glances out of the window into the darkening horizon. He's never stayed past sunset before. "It's getting late."
Jason swallows. He needs to— "Tim," he says, quietly. "Want to stay over?"
"Huh?"
"Wanna have a sleepover?" The glow flickers—and for one second Jason thinks it's going to disappear, but his hope is shattered when it just becomes dim. Dimmer than ever before, though, so Jason—Jason counts his blessings.
Tim blinks. "Uhm, sure," he answers, and Jason can see past the hesitance and into the happiness and excitement. "That'd be fun. Do you—shouldn't you ask Mr Wayne before you offer, though?"
Jason waves his hand around vaguely. "It's fine. he'll say yes, anyway. No use wasting time asking."
Tim laughs, and Jason grins back at him.
They do have to go back to Drake manor to pick up some clothes and toiletries for Tim, but Jason doesn't stand at the door and watch it close behind Tim like he has been doing the past few weeks. Instead, he walks in behind him, and follows him through the empty corridors and up the stairs and through more corridors to enter Tim's room.
There are no clothes on the floor, nor any papers on the desk. The bed is made, and there's no food bowls or water cups or mugs on the desk. The only sign of life, other than the half full laundry basket and bin, is a diary on the desk with a pen and pair of scissors next to it.
Jason goes to pick it up, but Tim pulls it out of eyesight before he can. "Sorry," Tim says, suddenly shy. "It's—it's really personal."
Jason nods, and leans on the desk as Tim shoves some clothes and some toothpaste into a backpack. Tim enters the bathroom quickly, and Jason scans the room once again.
The bin looks like his when he's writing an essay for English—dozens of scrunched up pieces of paper with writing that's barely legible on them. One odd thing is a sharpener without it's blade—a detail that causes Jason's brain cogs to turn. Before he can get further than a, 'huh, that's odd,' Tim comes out the bathroom.
"Okay," he says, and smiles. "Ready."
They make their way back to Wayne manor.
***
Tim spends most of his days at the manor. He insists on going home everyday, but Jason always weasels and guilt trips his way into making him stay. The light always dims and brightens throughout the day, but Jason can never pinpoint what exactly is causing it. Tim just seems to be the world's most vulnerable child—person, actually. Because adult or not, Jason's never seen anyone else flicker between death and life so quickly, not even the goddamned Batman.
(Speaking of Batman—he'd been unofficially benched for the time being from Robin due to Tim's presence in his room everyday. He'd find it suspicious to wake up everyday to his friend not being asleep. Jason didn't mind, not really, anyway. It meant his sleep was better during school days, at least.)
Jason keeps Tim away from high staircases, from the kitchen, from any sort of seafood (he actually bans, or ask Alfred to ban anyway, seafood in the manor completely, much to Bruce's chagrin), away from anything that could even cut him.
Still, the light always comes and goes. Once, whilst they'd sitting on the third floor balcony, Tim's hands are braced against the protective railing. Then, the light becomes so bright Jason feels like he's staring at the sun—the sign that death is seconds away—and he shouts in alarm so loud that Bruce stumbles into the room seconds later in a rush, and Tim stumbles back. Jason notices his own breathing is erratic, that he's sweating, and—and Tim stares at him like he's insane. The glow around him had dimmed.
Which, to be fair, Jason would think he was insane too, if he didn't know about his powers.
They go on about their day and steadily ignore Jason's freakout.
The week passes, and then Tim gets a call. That day, they were meant to have a long movie marathon and not sleep at all with Dick, who was meant to arrive in the evening.
"Ah," he says, when he walks back into the room. "My parents are back today."
Jason knows that this means Tim will have to be out of his sight. The thought scares him—scared that he knows he won't be able to stop it. if something happens, if Tim were to get in trouble, if—
"That's nice," Jason forces out. "Are you doing anything fun?"
Tim grins. "Yeah, they're taking me to my favourite Italian restaurant. It's an early birthday gift."
Jason walks Tim home in the hot and humid summer air, and walks Tim to his door. The light is dim, but Jason wants to make sure that Tim's okay anyway. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Tim smiles at him. "Of course, Jason. See you tomorrow. Say hi to Dick for me."
Jason watches Tim as his door opens, and feels his forehead sweat as the energy of the house seems to seep out—there's shouting and yelling, and Tim looks back at him with worried eyes, and the light, the glow around Tim—it—it brightens again.
And the door slams in Jason's face.
***
Jason tries to calm himself. He really, really does, but the look on Tim's face haunts him for the entirety of the walk home, and he can't get the idea of Tim—dead and cold in his own home—out of his head.
Dick finds him in a fetal position half under his bed an hour later, breathing so quick and loud and erratic that he's not sure how he hadn't passed out yet. His eyes are wet, and he's pretty sure the carpet under his face is wet, too.
Dick lays down so he's face to face with Jason. "Hi, bud," Jason doesn't reply. "Doing okay?"
If Jason weren't having a panic attack half under his own bed, he would've punched Dick in the face. Instead, he cries harder.
Dick gathers him into his arms—pulling him out from under the bed in the same motion, thank gods—and hums a melody into Jason's hair as he taps a rhythm into his arms. Eventually, Jason realises that the rhythm is meant to be one that he should be following with his breathing, so he does that and it takes him a couple tries—a few minutes—to get it right, then longer to actually calm down enough to be coherent.
"What's wrong, baby?" Dick asks, when he notices that the panic attack wasn't the only thing causing Jason to cry. His voice is disgustingly soft, and Jason wishes he could be mad at him. He can't. "What happened?"
"Tim's in danger," he says, quietly, as Dick rubs his back. "I—I think he's going to die."
The only indication that Dick gives that he's surprised is the barely noticeable stutter in his hand on Jason's back. Verbally, he reacts with, "What makes you say that, Jay?"
Jason sniffs quietly. "I can't," he begins, and hiccups. "I can't explain right now, but I—I swear I'm not lying."
"I never said you were, Jason. I just wanted to know."
"I can't explain," Jason insists. "I will explain. I promise. Just—just trust me. As soon as I know Tim's okay, I will explain."
"Okay," Dick replies, easily. "Okay. Do you want to go check on Tim? We can sneak in through his window, or something?"
Jason nods. Dick sighs, presses a kiss to Jason's temple, and then pulls them both off the floor.
They don't go in suits—that'd be too obvious, too suspicious. Instead, both of them throw on some hoodies and sweats, and then make their way to Drake manor on the outskirts of the woods behind both Wayne and Drake manors. Jason notes the absence of a car in the driveway where it was there that later afternoon—just after Tim's parents had arrived home.
Jason remembers the window that Tim's room had, so he silently leads Dick there and they find a way up a tree and onto the ledge. Dick boosts him up so he's looking in first, and Jason hopes that the room is empty.
He looks in, and at first it looks empty so he's about to sigh in relief and ask Dick to go home, but then his eyes catch a sight below the desk and—
And—
Jason breaks the window, and glass bursts into Tim's room.
"Jay!" Dick shouts, as he jumps up to swing himself into the room. "What the hell, Jay? What are you—" He shuts up as he notices Jason on the floor, Tim's head cradled in his lap, Tim's face pale as Jason mumbles and breathes erratically into his messy hair. He drags his eyes down, and sees—sees so much blood he feels sick. He's never felt so sick at the sight of blood.
Jason looks up and onto Tim's body to assess the damage.
On each of Tim's wrist is a horizontal cut so deep Jason can practically see muscle being parted. The blood is still gushing out, so he pulls off his shirt and rips it, pressing the fabric—which gets soaked almost instantly—into it to slow it down. There's scars on Tim's wrists—old and newish, some horizontal and some vertical, white and pink and red. Jason's eyes travel down Tim's body, and on Tim's thighs and ankles he sees the same proof of scarring—small, neat horizontal lines that are uniform.
Jason, in a moment of semi-clarity, realises why Tim never wore t-shirts and shorts around them—despite the heat—and he chokes back a sob in anger at never noticing. The light around Tim is so bright, so strong that Jason can feel his earlier panic attack returning, though he pushes it down before it can cloud his judgement and actions.
Dick's standing at his side, putting pressure onto Tim's wrists like Jason was, and he's talking quietly and quickly to himself, all in Romani.
"Jay," he says, when they've got enough pressure on Tim's wrists to not need to be pressing down on them. "Jay. We need to take him to the Batcave, ASAP."
"I know," Jason mumbles, "I know. I'll tell—tell Bruce that—"
"I'll deal with Bruce," Dick says, firmly. "Come on. We can't waste anytime."
Jason picks up Tim in his arms bridal style, carrying him with gentleness he didn't know he had in him at all. He goes to jump out of the window—legs be damned—when Dick pulls him back, and instead flips out of the window himself. "I'll catch you," he calls, and Jason doesn't waste a moment in jumping down.
As soon as Dick gently places him on the floor, he hits the floor running across the stretch of land between the two manors. He's mumbling prayers to himself—he's not even religious—when there's a groan from his arms.
"Tim?" He says, quietly.
Tim's eyes crack open a millimetre, and when he makes eye contact with Jason he grins up at him and nuzzles his face into Jason's chest. "I love these," he mumbles.
"Love what?" Jason asks. If he can keep Tim awake, if he can—if he can save him, he can die happy. He can't let this kid die. Not like this.
"These dreams," Tim hums. His voice is slurring. "Robin saving me. Caring that I'm dying?"
"Robin?!" If Jason weren't as well trained as he was, he might've stopped and stared at Tim's face. Luckily, he's trained, so he continues to run. He's almost at the manor, anyway.
"It's strange you're not wearing your costume," Tim slurs, as he reaches up with a bloody hand to touch Jason's cheek. "You usually do, Jason."
Fuck shit shit shit—How did he—?!
Jason shakes that thought off. That doesn't matter right now. Right now, he needs to get the kid somewhere safe, somewhere he can save him from—
From his suicide attempt.
The fucking glow. The flickering. The way it'd get stronger the closer Tim was to going home—
The way it glowed on that balcony.
Jason runs faster, as Tim loses consciousness again in his arms.
***
Jason sits by the bed that Alfred had made up for Tim. Tim's still asleep, but his wrists had stopped bleeding hours ago, and are stitched up and bandaged now. He's wearing one of Jason's Wonder Woman t-shirts that's slipping off his shoulder because of how big it is. Tim hadn't woken up since, but the glow around him had dimmed so it's barely there.
Jason isn't entirely satisfied with this.
He hadn't told Dick about his powers like he'd promised, nor had he mentioned Tim's rambling whilst he was dying in Jason's arms. That would have to wait.
Wait until his friend woke up.
Speaking of—
"Jason?" Tim mumbles, as he attempts to sit up.
"Hey, Timmy," Jason says, as he presses Tim's chest to lie him down again. "Stay laying down, kid. You need rest."
"Where am I?"
"Wayne manor."
Tim looks confused as he stares at Jason's face. "The manor? But I—"And then his face crumbles. He shakes as he brings his wrists up to stare at them, and he swallows when he sees the bandages, when he feels the stitching under it, his fingers running across his wrist.
"Oh," Tim says, lamely. "I failed."
Jason snaps his head up to stare at him. "What?" He hisses, through his teeth.
Tim sniffles, and Jason softens at the sound. Fuck, he needed to calm down. "I failed," Tim says, the glow around him brightening a bit. "The one thing—the one thing—and I failed."
"Tim," Jason tries to soothe, quietly. "It's good that you failed this, you—"
"I just," Tim continues, not paying much attention. His eyes are red and glossy wet. "I just wanted to—to have peace."
"Timmy—"
Tim begins to cry harder. "I failed," he practically wails, pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face in them. "I fucking failed. I just wanted—wanted this one thing, and I—and I—"
Jason leans forward, presses his knee into the mattress and climbs on, and takes Tim into his arms and practically into his lap. His glow is still bright, and it pisses Jason off that—that his friend still wants to die so badly he's close to death after being saved from it.
"Timmy," he says, and kisses Tim's hair. "Tim. You're okay. It's okay. You didn't—everything's okay. I promise. I promise."
Tim sniffles as he cries more. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," Jason reassures. "It's fine. I promise."
***
"Okay," Jason says.
Dick stares at him expectantly. Bruce does the same. Tim's asleep in his—the guest room, so they'll need to ask him about what he said with Jason later, when he's a little less raw.
Jason's sitting on the armchair across from Bruce and Dick, who are sitting in a couch, in Bruce's study.
"Okay," Dick says. "Whatever you say right now won't change anything. We love you."
"Yeah, you sap," Jason grumbles. He puts his face in his hands. "Okay. I'm—" He swallows. "I'm meta."
The silence lingers. "Meta," Bruce says, carefully. "How so?"
"I can—" Jason waves his hands around vaguely. "See death aura, I guess."
"Death aura," Bruce repeats, blandly. He glances over at Dick, who doesn't look as shocked as he should. Instead, it's thoughtfulness on his face.
"It's a glowing light," Jason explains. "Like—like a ring light around a person's body. The brighter the light, the closer someone is to death. Some people have a dim light that doesn't disappear—usually older people or someone with a terminal illness. Some people have lights that flicker depending on decisions—like you—" he gestures towards Dick and Bruce then at himself, "—Like us. That's why I always shout out warnings."
Bruce rests his hin on his interlinked fingers. "That's why you follow random civilians for blocks for no apparent reason."
"I want to save people," Jason says, almost defensively.
Bruce softens. "I never said it was a bad thing," he gently reassures. "I just—I liked your enthusiasm and compassion. I wish you would've told me—why. Why you did what you did."
"Now that Bruce has said it," Dick says. "Why did you never tell us about this?"
Jason shrugs helplessly. "Bruce doesn't like metas," he whispers, and embarrassment climbs up his throat.
Bruce presses his lips together, and Dick—Dick snorts.
"What the hell?" Jason asks. "I just—I just bared my heart out to you, and—"
"I'm sorry," Dick squeaks out, as he begins to laugh properly. "I'm so sorry, I just—holy shit. That's funny."
"What's funny?"
"Jay, Bruce's best friends are Superman and Wonder Woman. He's on a team of all metas. He's—" Then Dick laughs again.
Jason can feel his cheeks heating up. "Well, I didn't—I wasn't aware of the relationship they had, because I didn't see them interact, and—and it's different when it's your kid, and—"
Dick laughs harder. Bruce, to Jason's disappointment, starts to laugh too.
Fuck this stupid family, Jason thinks, as he stalks out of the room. Then, his mind supplies him with a different bomb he can drop, something that he can use to get back his stupid brother and father, and—
Jason smirks. "By the way," He says, just popping his head around the door frame to stare at the two laughing men. "Tim knows our vigilante identities."
He stalks off before they can ask any questions.
***
"We need to discuss something very important," Bruce says, evenly. He sounds more Batman than Bruce, in the moment, which is sort of terrifying, even to Jason.
Tim pulls the duvet up to his face, and hides behind it. The glow around him is the dimmest it's been since Jason had met him, and—and Jason finally feels his shoulders drop.
"Knock it off, B," Jason says, as he pulls the duvet off of Tim's face. "You're scaring the kid."
Bruce sighs. "I just want to make sure—"
Jason rolls his eyes. "Tim, who's Robin?"
"Uhm," Tim replies. He swallows, and Jason nods encouragingly. "You."
"Okay," Jason says, as Bruce's eyebrows raise. "What else?"
"Mr Wayne is Batman," Tim says, and Bruce twitches. Jason holds back a laugh. "Dick is Nightwing. Mr Kent is Superman. Mr Queen is Green Arrow, and Mrs Lance is Black Canary."
"Why does he know specifically Oliver and Dinah," Dick groans from beside Bruce.
"He's famous, so it was easier to figure him out, like you," Tim mumbles, nodding to Bruce. "And his wife doesn't really—hide her identity."
"So you don't know everyone on the Justice League?"
Tim shrugs. "I'm working on it. I think I've almost got the Flash down."
Jason snorts. "Good job, kid. You're Batman level."
Bruce snorts. Jason raises both of his eyebrows at him. Bruce looks somewhat cowed by his son's expression.
"I haven't told anyone," Tim says, a minute later, into the silence. "I just—I liked knowing. It made me… feel good. Safe."
Jason leans his head onto Tim's. "I'm glad," he says, softly.
The light around Tim dims again. It's hard to see, now, a stark difference to the way it was glowing the past few weeks that Jason's known him.
"You're gonna be okay," Jason says, into the silence. Dick and Bruce hum their agreement. "You're going to be fine, okay?"
Tim turns his head and buries his face in the space between Jason's neck and shoulder. "Okay," he mumbles. "Thank you, Robin."
Jason kisses his hair. "No problem, kid."
The glow around Tim dims. Not completely gone—Jason can still see it if he focuses hard enough. But… it dims nonetheless.
Jason is sure he can get it to quietly disappear.
He hopes Tim thinks so, too.