Archive of Our Own

The chill in the wind felt much harsher in the clearing. Every face washed red and blue, murmurs and passing of frantic commands. Alaric could feel the cold seeping through the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was seated on the bumper of a squad car, clutching a bottle of water in his hands. There seems to be a disconnect in him wanting to drink some from it and his hands not seemingly cooperating.

"Alaric Castellano?", he looked up to see Commissioner Gordon at his side. His voice gruff yet kind. "You doing alright?"

"I... yea. Yes. I'm fine. Thank you", he felt himself flinch at his own voice. 

"Good. Once we wrap up here, we are heading to the PD", Gordon nodded as he spoke, settling next to Alaric on the bumper.

"My... please... Penny, my fiance. I need to know she's okay. I need to know she is going to be okay."

"She's safe. You have my word. You both will be."

"I...", he pauses again and thinks his next words through. "There are some things. Some... conditions. Or it's... I will change my mind." He adds the latter a bit more firmer. "I will."

Gordon remained quiet for a moment, the skies greying like the settling for the night. It will be morning soon, "You're scared, we understand-"

"I'm fucking terrified", Alaric admitted, his voice cracking at the word. "I know these people. Hell, I was them. I know what they are capable of doing to people who cross them. And my Penny... my kid."

"I can't force you, the PD won't either. You have a choice to pull back when you feel like it", Gordon pauses. Alaric bites the inner lining of his cheeks, feeling the silence heavy in the air. "But... I want you to remember, lives are on the line. Not just for you to testify but for you to even get here, people took risks. You're not alone in this and you won't be after."

When Alaric is quiet for some time, Gordon continues, "You have my word."

Alaric swallows, it feels like rubble in his throat, eyeing the scene in front of him. One cop car getting ready to pull away on the commissioners orders. The Batmobile is nowhere to be seen. Alaric exhales audibly.

"The kid... he gonna be okay?"

Gordon smiles, placing one hand on Alaric's shoulder, tight. "If there's anything I know about him, he's going to be fine."

Alaric nods. Brothers, he had thought. He'd had them but this doesn't even cut close. He doesn't know if he felt anything when he lost his older brothers. He doesn't think they would ever do the same for him. 

Gordon took a step back. Alaric rolled his shoulders and straightened up, setting down the bottle. He closed his eyes and took a few breaths, he felt burdened. Like clogs in his ears and heavy weight hanging off of his back. And things haven't even started yet. He stood up and followed Gordon into the back seat of the car. He watches as the clearing opens into the main street and slowly city lights start passing through. Penny had called it their ticket out of here, the only one they had. 

This feels right, he tells himself. This is what I ought to do, what I owe the people and this feels right. 

The cave buzzed into life with the Batmobile screeching into a halt. Bruce was out in mere seconds as the massive doors were yet to grind shut behind them. He pulled Jason out, yet again picking him up with familiar ease. Dick could only follow suit. He couldn't speak, didn't have it in him anymore. His body moved with the phantom weight of his dying brother on his back, a memory clawing at his brain. He focused on everything else. His heavy steps, the quick scuffling of Bruce in his Batsuit as his cape dragged across the floor. The ragged breaths-

Alfred came into view, the IV line already prepped and ready to go. Dick watched as Jason's head lolled against Bruce's chest, as Bruce mustered every ounce of gentleness in him to lay him down on the bed. Allowing himself a second, just one, to run his hand through Jason's hair, face tight before reaching for the catheter and Jason's arm. 

"Dick, get the cooling blanket... some towels and ice packs", it's not like Dick didn't hear it but it sounded so detached from him that Dick didn't know how to respond. He looked at Jason. His pale clammy face, his curls sticking to his forehead. Momentary flutters of his eyes and laboured, uncoordinated breaths. "Dick-"

"I'm on it", And Dick sees Tim emerge from his hindsight. When did he get there, was he here all along, the patrol that night? He hears Tim leave, urgent footsteps making their way around the cave. He looks back to find Bruce now speaking to Jason, tapping his cheeks slightly, trying the sternum rub. Jason remains unresponsive. Jason remains unresponsive to the sternum rub. Dick feels his breath caught in his throat. 

Alfred is already on the wound, putting on a pair of gloves and passing the same to Bruce as he starts opening the bandage. Dick moves, a morbid shift of curiosity and concern taking over. He sees the wound in all its glory, angry and red, building like spiderwebs reaching his calf. The puncture itself was the worst of it all, a purple-ish tint on the skin and the inside leaking liquid.

Tim's voice takes him out of his stupor when he returns, "Manning the comms, Cass had taken the narrows tonight, Steph and Duke were working the Bowery case. They're on their way back."

"Fill them in, the fewer people in the med-bay the better. And call Leslie, tell her it's a case of sepsis, fever of 105.7, risk of-"

And it was as if on cue, as if the universe had chosen that night to test every limit they had, as if things couldn't get any worse... Jason shuddered, his back arching on the bed, his body falling into convulsions. It escalates in a heartbeat and Dick moves without thinking. He reaches for Jason, about to grab him when Bruce pulls him back. A contained chaos takes over, Bruce barks orders, tells Tim to get Leslie now, turning Jason on his side to keep his airway clean. Dick watches transfixed, itching to hold him, itching to stop Jason convulsing with sheer force itself. He can't tear his eyes away, Jason's own open in mere slits only the whites visible. He wants so terribly to block out the guttural, inhuman gasps coming from Jason's mouth.

"Ready the diazepam-"

"Already on it, sir."

"Bruce, Leslie is on her way, ETA 20 minutes."

Jason was still seizing. How long had it been. How long till they'd lose him again. A sepsis induced seizure to take his brain out of the equation. Dick doesn't realize when his eyes meet Bruce's, a tinge of fear that catches in the glint and his forehead carrying insurmountable worry. Bruce reads something on Dick's face, causing him to make a decision.

"Tim, take Dick. Check him over, we've got it here."

Before Tim could even make a move, "No. No, I'm fine. I'm staying. I need to stay here."

But Bruce is looking at Jason, eyes fixated, watching as the tremors slowly come to a stop. "Two minutes, twenty seven seconds." Alfred notes it, before moving to get Jason back on his back. Wiping at his face and placing the ice packs covered in towels on his core areas. Bruce takes his pulse, another note by Alfred. Checks his pupils, another note by Alfred. Leans down and speaks, a soft rubble is all that reaches Dick’s ears as if the words were meant alone for Jason.

“Dick”, he feels Tim put his hand on his arm, a soft pull which Dick easily brushes off.

“No, I'm not leaving.”

“We'll stay here. We'll be in the med-bay but let me look you over. Let me get you some water.”

Dick turns away, watching Bruce move with practiced efficiency. Alfred was working the IV lines and manning the vitals as Bruce focused his attention on the wound, beginning the debriding process while Leslie gets there. Dick's eyes lands again on Jason's face, limp, breath shallow, dead to the world. 

“Okay”, Dick nods, not taking his eyes off of Jason. “Okay.”

For the next several hours, the med-bay was a hive of silent, desperate activity. Leslie had joined them. Both Leslie and Bruce worked meticulously as they cleaned the festering wound, going through the debriding process. Alfred would come in momentarily, flushing the punctures with sterile saline. Dick found himself seated against the wall but close enough, eyes monitoring the IV drips, and constantly, obsessively watching the monitors.

Tim was back at the comms, Dick could hear voices he wasn't sure of. He felt in a haze, he was fine. He was sure he was. But his body was betraying him. He wanted nothing more than to listen to the pull of sleep and get away. From everything. He couldn't, despite everything he himself wouldn't allow it.

Dick watches Bruce, grab a bottle and a towel and walk towards Jason's head. Checking his fever, wetting his hair with the water and gently running his hands through the drenched locks. The fever was the biggest concern. The temperature has been plateaued at 105 and refusing to move any lower.

“We can't do more”, Leslie spoke, her voice sharp. “The body can't fight a losing battle. I can't recommend a cold IV for an infection induced fever. Rely on sponge bath and antipyretics.”

“If we do a cold IV to get his temperature just under 103, Leslie-”

“Bruce, it's not how it works and you know it.”

“We're risking another seizure!”

Dick watches something settle on Leslie’s face, something new, something he'd rarely seen before for she'd rarely show. Her eyes steel, “I'm not letting you put this kid through anymore than he has to.”

Bruce moved, getting equipment next to the IV and beginning to set up a new line. Leslie moved with him, “Bruce, he's my patient and I will not allow it.”

“He's my son.”

“The drop in core temperature will be a risk to his heart, you know that. You can't do this.”

Alfred came in between them, guiding Bruce back and removing the line from his hand. Dick could see it in Bruce's face, something akin to disbelief but not quite. What was more visible was the tiredness on his face, aging him so much more than Dick had seen in a while. The slight tremor of his hands. Dick knows this all too well, knows what Bruce felt when he picked Jason up and carried him much like before. Knows what Bruce is seeing right now on the bed. The powerlessness being screamed from his gait. Dick knew it all too well.

He moved without a word, filling up lukewarm water in a tub and carrying towels to the bed. Leslie is back on the wound, Alfred her shadow of sorts. Bruce is yet again by Jason's head, eyes intent on his face. As Leslie and Alfred work on the debriding, Dick and Bruce remove the cooling blanket a bit, readjusting the ice packs and dabbing him with water. 

It takes a while, the fever starts to dip but it's tedious. It feels like pulling teeth, frustration blooming. Dick could bet it felt like hours. Hours of him internally just begging and pleading for something. Anything. And then when he took the towel to Jason's forehead again, water dripping, Jason squirmed.

“Jay?”, Dick spoke almost instantaneously, as if reflexive. He felt Bruce freeze up as well. They waited with bated breath and nothing felt more agonizing but Jason's eyes fluttered open momentarily before closing right back. He muttered something entirely incomprehensible and seemingly fell back into the same lull. Leslie, done with cleaning the infection and wrapping his leg in bandages, was now monitoring his vitals and keeping an eye on the IV. Alfred took his leave, going upstairs to talk to the rest back from patrol. 

“103.7”, Bruce announced and Dick nodded. Not the best but aeons better than what they were working with. Dick could cry. He's pretty sure he did. The last few hours have tested him in every way possible and god does he want the day to end already. The day that just started. He watched as Bruce leaned in, placing a kiss on Jason's forehead, something the boy would absolutely rage about had he not been in such a state. “Good lad”, Dick heard him whisper.

“He's stable”, Leslie starts, voice soft as she takes space next to Bruce. “The fever is breaking, it will take a while but the antibiotics are starting to work. It's better to keep the IV going for now.”

The wave of relief Dick felt was enough to nearly knock him off his feet. He looked at Jason's face, wanting so badly to touch lest he lose him again. But his mouth was suddenly so dry and his legs trembling where he stood. He leaned directly on the bed and tried to blink away the exhaustion setting in. It didn't work.

“Dick?”, Bruce's voice but so far away. And then not so much. “Dick, you need to sit down”, he was guided using his elbow and gently pushed onto a chair. He put his head in his hands, leaning down and feeling his breath coming in gasps. He can't cry now, he won't. 

“Dick, look at me”, Dick looked up from his hands to find Bruce sitting in front of him, eyes level. “You did good. You saved him”, Dick starts shaking his head when Bruce interrupts him. “No. You did. You took care of him. You brought him here. He wouldn't have made it, chum”, Bruce places his hand on Dick's cheek and maybe it's the childhood nickname that gets to him but Dick leans into it.

“But he'd want you here when he wakes up. So why don't you get some rest?”

Dick looks ahead from Bruce, at Leslie smiling back at him, at Jason still on the bed, chest rising and falling. Alive. Okay. 

“Okay.”

It took two days. Two days of constant monitoring and checking, coaxing with no avail. Leslie had said it would be like this. Jason's body just waged a war, almost didn't come back from it. 

They had started taking shifts, not once leaving Jason alone in the med-bay. Dick, then Bruce, then Steph, then Duke, then patrol so Alfred stayed by him. Then Tim and Cass as they worked a case while Jason slept for a whole army. Despite momentary spikes in his temperature, he seemed to be doing much better. Dick couldn't be kept away for long, staying even when it wasn't his shift, sometimes working on cases alongside as well, some other times catching up on cases.

It's the recovery from sepsis that's the slow, brutal ordeal. It's expected for Jason to sleep through the first week while his body desperately tries to heal itself. Regardless, it took two days for him to finally wake. Not groggy or confused, thoughts hazy and uncoordinated. But an actual bout of consciousness. It came in stages, an odd chill followed by the feeling of soft warmth seemingly placed on him. Then soft murmurs of voices all too familiar, it takes a while before he recognizes them to be Cass and Steph's. Dim lights. Too dim. Or wait, not so much. As his eyes begin to focus and a groan escapes his lips. 

“Oh shit!”, footsteps approach him. “Hey there sleeping beauty”, he shifts, blinking a few times before focusing on Steph. He opens his mouth to speak but only to be met with parched dryness, his tongue feels distant from his own mouth. 

“Wh’ t’ f'ck”

“That about sums it up”, he sees her move to sit back down, but then her eyes go wide. “Shit! I need to get Dick, he's going to be so mad. And his shift had just ended-”, her voice slowly drowns out as she walks out of the bay, ascending the stairs to the manor.

Jason signs, closing his eyes again. A hand is on his shoulder, giving him a miniscule shake. He opens his eyes to find Cass, leaning in with a glass of water. Jason shifts, then winces, pressing down the whine that was about to escape his lips. And suddenly he's so aware of his body. Of all that there is. He feels an odd surge of panic as he tries to fill in the blanks. 

“I… ‘m leg?!”, but it sounds almost a whisper, unable to convey the surmountable confusion he feels and the urgency of needing the gaps to be filled.

“Still there”, Cass answers with a smirk, her hand slowly sliding to his back and trying to aid him in lifting himself up just a bit so he can take a few sips.

“Wh't s happ'nin?”, the glass is brought to his lips and he takes slow, measured sips only because Cass pulls away every time he's had some. Once laid back down, Cass feels his forehead with her palm.

“Warm, just a bit”, she tells him. “You've been asleep for two days.”

Jason blinks. Two days. By the time he musters up a response, he hears thudding footsteps echoing through the walls. Dick enters the room, hair disheveled, eyes tired yet wide. Jason watches him walk over, eyeing the vitals then sparing a glance at Cass. 

“Feverish”, Cass responds, knowing exactly what Dick was asking from her. 

“Hey Jay, how're you feeling?”, Dick says clearing his throat, hand reaching for Jason's own. 

“‘M drugged?”

Steph spoke with a grin, “Just some really good stuff, big guy.”

Dick looks back at him, eyes anticipating. Jason nods, closing his eyes. “Wean off?”

“Only if you really want to. But Leslie would recommend otherwise”, Leslie wouldn't, he knows. Dick would. Bruce would. He knows what Dick's trying to do and doesn't like it one bit but doesn't say anything either. 

“D'ssn't feel good. Hazy”, he swallows, “Nauseous.”

“You're supposed to be sleeping, anyways”, Cass interjects. Despite that she reaches for the pump on the IV and dials it back. 

“I… Can someone fill me in?”

Jason watches as both Cass and Steph glance at Dick before exchanging looks. “Oh, Cass, why don't we go upstairs to help Alfred prepare something for Jason?” And without another word they're already heading out. “Be right back, Alley”, Steph says without looking back at him and they're off. Leaving him with Dick standing, digging holes into his eyes. 

“What do you wanna know?”, Dick asks as he sits himself down on the chair next to the bed. 

“Castellano?”, Jason puts an elbow under him only for Dick to push him back down, eyes stern and jaw square. He reaches for the remote and lifts his bed a little so he's seated up. 

“Handed over to the GCPD. He's got the hearing at the end of this week. He's ready to testify.”

Jason nods. “Great. Mission accomplished.” He almost mutters to himself. Then louder, “How am I here?”

Dick sighs, his shoulders flopping as he leans further back into the chair. “What's the last thing you remember, Jay?”

“I don't know”, Jason thinks hard, trying to dig deep, going day by day until the bear trap, the night after, he frowns. “Did you carry me?”

Dick nods. His face remains solemn. It irks at Jason, like something hidden beneath the surface. Like he's being punished for something he doesn't even know yet. “Why do you look like that?” He asked.

Dick remains quiet for some time, Jason can see him gathering up words, constructing sentences behind his eyes and once ready he clicks his tongue, speaks. “Bruce was with the GCPD, found us and brought us back to the cave. You were in septic shock, burning up. Had a fever exceeding 105”, he paused for a while. “You had a seizure. Less than 3 minutes, so nothing lasting we hope. It was… a bit scary there. For a while. Until you stabilized.”

Jason took it all in, eyes downcast. Not sure what to say, if he even has the words. 

“The prognosis now is keeping an eye on lingering complications. Post sepsis syndrome. And possible physical therapy for the leg.”

Jason exhales, closing his eyes and feeling himself sink further into the bed. It took a while to process. Maybe it will take more than that. “Not that bad, huh?”

He opens his eyes again when he doesn't get a response from Dick. Dick who only on close inspection and by the trained eye that has known the hubris of one Dick Grayson, can be seen much like death warmed over. It's in his eyes, in his gait, in the twitches of his lips. Jason asks again, “Why do you look like that?”

“Jason, I… not now. I can't talk to you about this now”, Dick put his head in his hands, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”, Jason said, feeling every bit of incredulousness lining his face. “God, you're so dramatic.”

Dick straightens up at that, eyes furious, glaring as his jaw clenched. “I'm being dramatic? You could've died and I would've been able to do nothing about it and I'm being fucking dramatic?!”

“Trust you to make everything about yourself”, Jason reaches for the remote, lowering his bed down and keeping his eyes closed, feeling exceedingly dizzy. 

Jason hears a scoff and nothing further. He hears some scuffling, decides to turn to his side and listen to the lull pulling at him. It tugs at his catheter. He doesn't care.

“We'll talk”, the last thing he hears from Dick before letting it all leave him as is.

The next time Jason came around, it was to a throbbing ache in his leg, a soft plea escaping his throat. He blinked open his eyes to find Cass stood by his IV, eyeing the pump.

“You ‘gain?”, he swallowed the dryness, licking at his chapped lips and tasting an odd bitterness on them. “Or was I off long enough that you're back on shift.”

“I'll never tell”, Cass says, crossing her arms and sitting back down on the chair she had been holding vigil at all the while. Jason looks up at her to find a warm smile on her face. He blinks. “Funny.”

“In pain?”, she asks instead. She doesn't need to, he knows. She knows already, has probably read it on him before he even woke.

“‘S fine. I don't need any more if that's what you're asking.”

Cass shrugs. There's a few beats of silence, a good few seconds spacing them out before she speaks again. “You upset Dick.”

Jason clicks his tongue. “Is Dick ever not upset with me.”

Cass wears a frown on her face, arms still crossed, leaning further into the chair. Jason leaned against the pillow, eyes closed. Focused on the pain, the dull throbbing that kept raging, refusing to be ignored. The tightness of the bandage felt oddly claustrophobic. The weakness in his muscle already evident. 

“You don't need to stay. I'm fine”, he says. “I feel better. You can go.”

“Too bad. Can't get rid of me”, Cass said, her voice firm. Jason sighed, too tired to argue. He tried to focus on his breaths, the rhythm. Trying to push the pain into distant corners of his mind. Cass’ presence didn't help, it was distracting. He could feel her eyes boring into him like lasers. What the fuck was happening.

Silence sits among them for a moment before Cass clears her throat and starts again, her voice sharp, “You think I hate you.”

Jason exhales audibly. “Snitch”, he says under his breath, does not catch Cass’ response. “I think a lot of things”, he mutters louder.

“Unfair.”

“Oh really.”

Cass narrows her eyes, a momentary scowl that turns soft because of the glint in her eyes. “You like to pretend you know.”

Jason's eyebrows shoot up at that, a grim guffaw escaping his mouth. “Seriously?”

“You assume. And you assume wrong.”

“Oh yes please. Please tell me more about myself.”

Cass was quiet again and Jason spared a glance, spotting something familiar in her face. Only for a while, just a glimpse. He couldn't quite put his fingers on it.

“You're wrong, little brother-”

“Not your little brother.”

Cass pauses, “by 7 months”, she shrugs again then emphasizes, “little brother.”

Jason lets out a sigh, another among the few in the last hour. “Look Cass, you don't need to explain yourself. I like the way things are-”

“Liar.”

He groans. “Will you stop?”

Cass shakes her head, pulling her chair forward. “Stop what?”

“Your… creepy thing. Fuck. I don't know. Stop reading me when my guard is down. Not a good look.”

Cass on the other head, her face remains unchanged, eyes intense. Her posture remains rigid. He watches a thought take place, her jaw clenches at the same. She speaks, soft. “When I came here, it was hard to… be. Everything was too loud. Everyone was… screaming. To be heard. I had to learn…”, she pauses, frowning in a way that can only suggest she is unable to convey what she really wants to.

Jason tries, “To… tune it out?”

Cass shakes her head, “Not exactly. That and also… manage?”

Jason nods, he had known in not so many ways what Cass could do. He knew bits about what happened to her, child assassin and made-into-a-weapon and what not. He also knows her allegiance to the symbol grows much deeper than even Bruce could understand, she is as loyal as they come. He’ll never admit but he had been curious about the whole reading shebang. How much of it she can, what she takes in even when not being given to her. He doesn’t have the words so he just nods.

“Bruce once took me. To your grave, it was your birthday. You would’ve been preparing for college, he said”, Jason has to stop himself from gaping at her words. Close his eyes because they watered a little too quickly. She continues, “Grief, so much of it. Pain and guilt, so much of it. I could tell how missed you were. How… loved you were.

“And when you came back, when I met you… you were”, she pauses. Jason swallows the lump in his throat, opening his eyes to look at her. Eyes fixated as if waiting for him to respond. She raises her hands to chest level and starts gesturing. Signing, Jason realises.

“Couldn’t understand you. How to be around you… and your pain. Only knew that you were brother”, she signed and Jason tried to keep up. She lifted her shoulders, head tilting to the side. Her finger started signing again before stopping and then again and then stopped. Hesitance, he wonders.

Then, as if with some new found resolve, she started again, “I don't agree with a lot of things you do, your decisions, your choices. But I understand why”, then she speaks, “a little bit.”

Jason just shakes his head. “I don't know what to say to you.”

“Nothing. Just help me understand more”, she signs.

“If you want to play house, there's a bunch I'm sure would be more than willing”, Jason says, closing his eyes with the finality of it. Then opening it again because… what the fuck. It felt wrong to do that. Cass however doesn't sign again. Resignation, yet again he wonders. But is proven wrong soon enough when she starts speaking.

“Only fair if we give each other a chance”, and Jason sees it. Wants to take it. A chance, she said and how did she know to propose such a thing as if it wouldn't leave him ripped in half. This fucking family, he thinks, something akin to a warmth rising within him despite himself. He couldn't identify it. 

“Sure whatever”, he says instead. 

The pain in his leg has lulled, now distant, he realized.

The next few times he woke up were… weird. He woke to Tim and Steph blabbering about some case and a new rogue going around. He woke to Dick waiting with a smoothie, he couldn't take more than three sips before his body started giving out again. He woke to chills running amuck, unable to regulate, his body running hot despite everything. And Bruce. Bruce talking to him until he was pulled back again.

He woke to Leslie, face contorted in worry and trying to coax responses out of him. He doesn't know how he did. Doesn't think he did a very good job, they don't look happy. Huh, he thinks. That's a silly thought.

He woke, no longer in the med-bay. A guest room he assumes. An IV set up. A weight on his hand, warm and tight. A twitch as if on realization and the weight loosens. He opens his eyes to meet Dick's, glazing with relief.

“Hey, how're you feeling?”

Jason frowns, trying to recall the last thing he remembers. It feels like a time loop. Constantly digging into the crevices of his mind to recall all that has been.

“Something happen?”

“You've been out for a day. Your fever spiked”, Dick explained.

Jason blinked, orienting himself. He put his elbow under himself and tried to pick himself up but his muscles felt weak. Heavy and uncooperative. He felt like road kill, for the lack of a better comparison. His head was pounding, everything felt heavy and his body was trembling.

“Whus happ'nin to me?”

Dick gently pushed him back down, hand staying on his shoulder with a firm squeeze. Jason sighed, it was grounding. “From what Leslie explained, sepsis has lasting effects. Fatigue, muscle weakness, some memory problems I'm sure you're experiencing. Gotta keep an eye on your… cognitive faculties.”

Jason processed, or tried to at least. He's not sure what he feels about it and his face must show the worst of it because Dick's face falls.

“Hey”, Dick said, voice firm but gentle. “You need to be patient with yourself. Your body went through hell, it will take time to get back to normal.”

Jason realizes he's being moved. He feels Dick place some more pillows underneath him, fluffing them up. Jason leans back, a soft groan escaping his mouth and Dick feels his forehead, hand coming back, his face looking satisfied. They're quiet for some time before Dick breaks it again. 

“Can I… ask you something? Well, I wanna ask a lot of things but we'll start slow.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Doesn't seem like I have an option”, gesturing at himself.

Dick just shakes his head, wanting to say something then deciding against it. Instead he just hums and starts talking. “I know some about the pit. Only what Bruce has on your file. But your eyes… they momentarily turn green. Or… I mean I'm not doing a good job explaining it… it’s luminescent? Is it the pit?”

“Wouldn't know any more about it than you do”, Jason answers with a shrug, dismissive. Dick knows better than to take it any further. “Don't think it makes much of a difference”, Jason adds.

“Right. Except it seemed to have a trigger”, he says despite himself. Jason eyes him, a bit longer than just to be a glance. A study, then. Searching for something. If Dick knows anything it's Jason assuring himself in some ways, trying to put two and two together. 

“Why are you onto this”, it's not exactly a question, and with the way Jason's eyes narrow, the suspicion is hanging heavy in the air.

Dick's turn to shrug, “Could be something.”

“Right”, dead pan. End of conversation. Not so easy, Dick thinks to himself.

“When you were delirious-”

“Dick, just drop it.”

Dick frowns, jaw tightening. “Look, it's something else okay? I just need to know. I…”, he pauses, looking for words. Better ones. “You don't have to tell me but something happened and I'm worried and I can't stop thinking about it. So let me just…”, he sighs and leans in on himself, head in his hands. 

“If it's about something I said, I probably wasn't in the right mind…”

“Yea well, it was worrying regardless”, he picks himself half, running his hand across his head.

Jason sighs, straightening up as much as he could lying down and met Dick's eyes, “Well since it's ‘hound on the sick guy’ hour, why not.”

“You asked to be cremated”, Dick rips off the bandage and at least some of it Jason can appreciate.

“Yea, given the circumstances, pretty sure I thought I was dying.”

“It's not just that. I know it's not just that. Jason, you were saying things like... I don't know, that you came back wrong, that you shouldn't have come back at all”, Dick's voice losing its edge, sounding more airy with each word. Tired. 

“And what of it”, his words do not hold even half the bite he wants to convey. “What part is surprising to you?”

“How can you actually think that?”, Dick asks, eyes almost wide and he looks perhaps almost as sick as what Jason feels. “Jay, What the fuck?!”

“What part is the fucking lie, Dick?”, Jason retorts, almost egging, almost teetering on a fight. “I told you I’m not the kid you miss, you pretend to care about oh so much.” Just a tainted presence in his image, just a ruination of my own and his. 

“I do care! And I fucking did despite everything. Jay, we lost you-”

“No you didn’t”, a laugh escaped his mouth, dead and mirthless, “you fucking asshole do you actually get off of pretending to care about some dead kid? Must’ve cried a storm at his funeral. Oh wait except-”

His next words are eaten behind a punch landing square on his left jaw. Wasn’t the hardest, his face merely moved but without realizing his hands went for the point of contact as he pressed and winced. “Ow, Fuck?”, his voice came muffled.

“Shut up. Shut the fuck up”, He looked up at Dick to find him, breathless, chest heaving. His eyes glimmering with insurmountable… anger? Hurt? A swirling storm of the two? “You listen to me, nothing tore us apart like your death did. Only very few things come close. And I will spare you the details for your own good. And I said it before, we did not have the best reaction to you coming back but at the end that’s what mattered. That you were back”, he pauses, still stood up with his hands on his waist. Breathing in such a way that would only suggest he was preparing for the next bit, “This is your family, whether you like it or not. And I’m your brother. I’m your brother and I’m asking you, begging you to be honest. Jason, do you want to kill yourself?”

Jason looked back, unmoving. Hand still on his jaw though it wasn’t pounding anymore. He still rubbed at it, taking his good time just trying to understand the optics of the situation. “You held back”, he says matter of factly.

“Answer the fucking question.”

Jason sighs, lowering his hand and clicking his tongue, “No, Dick”, enunciating each and every word, “I do not want to kill myself.”

“Do you wanna die?”

“What is this, an intervention?”

“Jay, for fuck’s sake-”

“What do you wanna get out of this, Dick. What do you think will happen, huh?”, resignation on his face, in his face, perhaps his whole body screaming it. “I died. I was dead and should’ve stayed that way. Doesn’t mean I want to die. I just…”, he isn’t sure how convincing he is, he isn’t sure if he even believes the words coming out of his mouth. It sounds about right. “I’m tired.”

Dick sits back down, leaning back on his chair, head falling against the rest, “You know what it sounds like, right?” 

“If I die, I want it to be final. I want it to be over. I can’t do this again.”

 Dick remains quiet, not so much as moving to even spare a glance at Jason. When he does it is to rub his face with his palm and run his hand over his hair for what seemed like the umpteenth time. “Okay… okay. What do we do?”

Jason finds another laugh escape him. Isn't it the hilarity for this whole conversation. “About what?”

“You can't think this way… you can't think that you being dead is better. It's not…”, he pauses and lands on the one word he can think of, “healthy.”

“What about our lifestyle sounds even remotely healthy to you?”

“This is different-”

“Like hell it is!”, he lets off a little harsher than he meant but it's like an uphill battle. “Are we done?”

“No. You're so…”, Dick exhales, arms back on his waist, then back to gesticulating. “You're not around, Jay. You're so convinced that we hate you, that I hate you. Like you're so alone against the world.”

Jason's face darkens, a frown taking shape in mere milliseconds, “I've always been alone. That never changed.”

“It's not true-”

“You don't fucking know that.”

“Okay… okay”, Dick straightened up, rubbing his palms on his knees with nervous energy. His gaze was downcast, not meeting Jason, not looking at anything else in the room. Just some contemplation evident by him seemingly talking to himself. “Okay. You remember the ski trip?”

Jason shifts a bit to his side, brows knitted in confusion. “What ski trip?”, he asked.

“We were”, then paused, “what? The ski trip? To the alps?”

“We went skiing?”, the pitch in his voice rising by bit. He was already racking his brain, trying to search corners for any evidence of the same which only returned with empty gaps.

“Jay… Don't mess with me right now.”

When Jason doesn't respond Dick continues, “We were there for a week, remember? Just the two of us. You had never seen snow before. Well, real snow, not the shit we get in Gotham. We were snowed in the first few days because of an avalanche. Then-”

“Dick what the actual fuck are you talking about?”, he pushed himself up, sitting on the bed. “I dont… we never went on a ski trip”, but his voice is barely there, muffled by the ringing in his ears of something wrong. Something so wrong. It's not a gap, it can't be. 

“Jay?”

“We never went on a ski trip.”

“We did”, Dick repeats, insistently. “We did. Bruce allowed us to plan it but I was busy with work so you did most of it.”

Jason tried and could gather some pieces. The alps. Bruce suggested Switzerland. He wanted Italy, arguably more budget friendly (and better food). Trail routes are colour coded based on difficulty and he wanted to try all of them just to be a better judge. Do not go off piste ever-

“By the fourth day I hurt my knee and we somehow managed to make it back, we fought a lot and gave each other the silent treatment the rest of the day. Then you… Jay..?”

He was drawing a blank at every attempt. And the more blanks he was drawing the more sick he felt. Sick in his body, in his brain. It's all so wrong. “How… Why? Why are you lying?" But deep down he knows that's not it, it never was and Dicks immediate denial is but a smack.

“I'm not. I'm really not. Jason, we took pictures. I can show them to you”, Dick says, already moving out of the room, leaving Jason alone with his mind waging a myriad of conflicts. Like reality itself has left its hold on him, his timeline distorted. 

Dick returns in no time, an album in hand. It fits his palm, when he holds it. His ears ringing as he starts flipping through the pages, each holding a single Polaroid. He takes them in but processing seemed a little out of the window. It started with pictures of just the mountains, then his awkward smile in one, then a snowman next to dick almost his height, a picture of charcuterie-

“You took that one to show Bruce how it's really done”, Dick adds. It's foreign to his ears. He moves his tongue but so far from even getting a word out.

-a Polaroid of snow angels next to each other. Two hands cheering two mugs of hot chocolate. Some more silly faces with a mountain backdrop. Jason reading. And a final one. The last page of the album.

Me and Jason.

The picture with Dick smiling, flaunting his dimples, hand on Jason's shoulder in a side hug. Jason who is leaned in. Who is smiling, unguarded. Eyes glinting in a way that's even visible from beyond the click of the camera. He’s happy. He's happy.

A drop falls on the page and Jason shuts it, eyes closed where he's seated as he tries to slow his breathing. He hears Dick shift, and as if on reflex he just says, “I don't remember.”

“Its-”

“I don't remember”, Jason repeats looking up, eyes meeting Dick's who's looking exceedingly concerned by the second. “I don't remember any of it.”

“It's okay, Jason-”

“No. No it's not. It's like it never happened. It never fucking happened”, he picks up the Polaroid to Dick's face as if he couldn't stress it enough, “when it did happen. Why can't I remember?”

Its like the ground cracked open in that moment, like some unfunny scheme, an elaborate prank. After all he'd always distanced himself from the kid, always insisted he wasn't him. It couldn't be further from the truth now. 

“Hey, just breathe”, and Jason had it in him, he would've punched Dick back right then. “Jay? Listen, this doesn't mean you lost it, maybe it's just buried. You've been through enough. Your brain went through enough-”

“Stop. That's not...”, he was happy. He looked happy. “I'm fine”, what more did he lose. What else out there that was once his that doesn't belong to him anymore. “I just…”, he was right, he came back wrong. He came back a different person, a hollow shell, an oddity. 

“Why did you bring it up?”, he lands at that.

Dick sits at the edge of the bed this time, next to the album on Jason's lap. “A lot happened on that trip. We fought a lot but we made up. We talked about things, about Bruce, about the Manor. About Robin. You uhh… you told me about your life before. About Catherine”, Dick paused, peering at Jason who did not return his gaze. “On the last day, we made a pact. A promise, being there for the other in our own way. Like brothers do.”

Jason sat in the silence, his heart pounding or maybe its his leg or maybe his head, he can't quite tell. He noticed his hands on his lap, fingers interlaced slightly. He felt no weight. Like it was detached at the joints, floating away from him. 

Dick shifts and then a hand is on his shoulder. “I failed you. I can't help but feel like I didn't keep my end. And I want to.” Then Jason's pulled forward, leaning slightly. Forehead resting on Dick's collarbone as Dick holds him. One hand on his back and the other resting on his nape, squeezing ever so slightly. Then he starts moving the hand on his back, rubbing up and down. Then he feels more than hears when Dick's voice reverberates where his head rests, “I will talk to Bruce.”

Jason starts shaking his head.

“No”, Dick interrupts, “I will. We will figure something out. If it takes a neurologist to understand-”

Jason pulls away. “There's no clinical implications on coming back from the dead, Dick.”

“Even so.”

Jason sighs, closing his eyes. Flashes of the Polaroids running through his mind. Flashes of a time that feels so alien to him, like it does not belong to him in the first place. His face, he barely recognized. Flushed with cold and the same snaggletooth yet not him. Could he be that person again? And almost as soon as that thought came through, he shut the door. 

“Look, how about”, Dick starts, shifting back and putting the album on the table. “How about you tell me what you remember. Anything you remember, okay?”

Jason slowly stretches his leg, laying back down and feeling the fluff of the pillows hold the shape of his body. “What good will that do?”

“Just humour me”, he adds with a shrug, a small sympathetic smile on his face the shape of which Jason was starting to get tired of. “I want to hear your perspective, I guess.”

Jason stares at the ceiling, his jaw working silently. A conflict working inside him which he is sure is visible on his face. Dick waits, next to him, his hand on the bed near Jason’s own and he can already feel the warmth. 

“I used to practice”, he starts, his voice small. “The first time you came to visit, and all the other times. I’d practice what I was going to say, how I was going to say it. I’d make up conversations in my mind”, he laughs but it does little to hide the way his voice cracked. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, “I wanted you to like me so badly. Thought that maybe if you liked me, I’d finally…”, finally what, he wonders. Belong? As if it was ever meant for him, if something like that could ever come close enough. “I was a stupid kid.”

He doesn’t look at Dick, knows not a part of him could handle what he will be met with. Why did he even say that, what even got into him that made him say that, “I-”

“I’m sorry, Jay”, Dick cuts him off, hand closing the little space between. “I’m so sorry. I was… I was the stupid one. I couldn’t look beyond my own bullshit and you deserved-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Dick. I’m not that kid”, he doesn’t want to be cruel, he doesn’t. But it’s him, it’s wired in him. And the words are already leaking out, “I got over it, he couldn’t. And maybe you tried and maybe it wasn’t enough but it wouldn’t have done anything to change what happened. I never fucking belonged.”

Dick is quiet for some time, letting the silence fester. The old wound being aired out, open to the world. “Jason”, Dick started taking in a shaky breath, “All my grievances were all with Bruce, I never hated you. You were just a kid and I know I should’ve been around more, should’ve been a better brother. I was just… I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings and by the time I figured it out”, his voice had gotten lower to a mere rustle. “It was too late. You were gone.”

Despite being closed, Jason felt his eyes water, “Yea well, people in this family do have a track record of bad timing.”

“Jay, can we just try?”

“Try what?”

“This”, Dick says gesturing around, at the room, at the space, all that is between them. “At being brothers.”

And it’s a familiar feeling he thinks, he remembers this from not too long ago. Or maybe actually just a day or two when Cass had asked for the same. It’s hard, he thinks, he’s not made for this. Rather this is not made for him. Much like before he takes it regardless.

“Sure, whatever.”

The next few days seem like a blur, he doesn't do much except wake up, eat, talk with his then assigned member no matter if he wants to or not, deny painkillers, sleep. 

Steph brought board games and Cass but Jason was too exhausted to really wage strategic psychological warfare in Catan. He didn't miss the disappointment on Steph's face and expectancy on Cass’ when he did promise he'll get them next time, and get them good. Damian brought him some books while he sat on the other end of the room working on what Jason can only assume was a school project. That was until Duke popped in and asked if Jason would like to spend some time in the library instead of being “cooped” in here. Jason couldn't be more relieved. Tim was on call with someone, seemingly working on some WE related meeting. They don't talk much. Tim asks if he needs anything and Jason gives a curt no, bundling back under the covers.

Few more days pass and he wakes up alone. It was confusing but also somewhat relieving. He felt like he woke with diction, with a clearer mind and need for some action. His leg was a dull aching throb, persistent but no longer overbearing. 

He swung his legs over the bed, testing his weight on the injured leg first before standing up. It held, just barely but only with him leaning heavily on the bedframe. He took a step, then another, the pain pretty manageable. One glance at the table clock told him it was 5 past 5 in the morning. Everyone's probably back from patrol, whoever was on field last night. 

He made his way to the small bathroom attached to the guest room, taking slow careful steps. The mirror met a face he found difficult to recognizes, lax and slightly hollowed out. His hair floppy, longer and then the stubble. He doesn't easily get facial hair so it's just lining his jaw making him look gray. He changed tracks from going into the shower first to shaving. By the time he was done his legs were shaking with exertion and he sat down for a while, cursing himself and this whole ordeal.

The shower itself; now that was a challenge. He covered the bandage in plastic, balancing on one foot as he scrubbed off the sweat and grime off himself. The towel rubs hadn't even come close enough. When he stepped out he felt like he'd she'd a whole layer of skin and sickness, feeling refreshed in a way he probably didn't even before the god darn bear trap.

He put on the sweats he found in the wardrobe, a hoodie which smells just the same as the old laundry detergent they used back when he lived at the manor. He took in his image, pale face, hair drenched and dripping but he didn't have the energy to dry it out. He looked just as tired as he felt. And the loss of muscle hurt but he can gain it back in no time.

He decided to leave the room, to walk around the grounds maybe, he's not sure how he will manage. But he needs to breathe. To not feel trapped. He made his way to the stairs, pushing against the wall to keep up his momentum. He thought a bit before taking a step down the stairs, decided he needs to keep going because if he stops he won't be able to move. 

He took another, a third, a fourth. And then his legs gave out. He tightened his grip on the railing, a yelp escaping his mouth as pain exploded and his muscle stopped cooperating. He's about to fall face first when-

Strong arms grab him before his fateful meeting with the rest of the stairs. Jason's vision swam dangerously, black spots suddenly dancing at the edges of his vision. His leg was screaming and he could hear a voice. Bruce. It was Bruce. He had caught him. 

“I'm fine”, he says without knowing what was being said to begin with. He tried pushing him away with one hand, “I'm fine, let me go.”

Bruce didn't let go, in fact tightened his grip, taking one of Jason's arms across his shoulder. He started moving, carrying most of Jason's weight who'd now resigned understanding his own limits and not having the capacity to fight the man anymore. He leans further and is hit with the scent of fresh gardenia. Bruce must've just freshened up after patrol. Bruce doesn't say a word, just takes Jason to his room, seating him on the big arm chair. 

“You shouldn't be walking, at least not without support”, he says as he walks over to his wardrobe, opening it and picking out a towel. He walks over behind Jason, gently laying the towel of Jason's still drenched hair and starts rubbing, soaking the water off. 

“You're not sleeping”, it comes out muffled and wobbly courtesy the towel massage Bruce was giving his head.

“Was coming to check on you”, comes the response. Then he takes the towel off, tossing it into the laundry bin and Jason hears him rummaging through the dressing room drawers. “What was the big idea?”, Bruce asks as he turns on the hair dryer and starts brushing Jason's hair, swift gentle movement, almost not there. 

How he'd always liked. Jason still remembered when he first came in the manor and wouldn't let anyone touch his hair, how long it had grown, how knotted. How he missed the way his mom would do it so Bruce had asked him to teach him. Jason blinks away the sting, the rhythmic movement of the brush and the blow of the dryer taking him elsewhere. He shuts the door.

“Wanted out.”

Bruce turns off the dryer, running his hand through Jason's hair still a little dampy but not enough to catch anything. “I can get you a crutch, or a-”

“Don't need it.”

“Jason”, Bruce sighs, sitting at the end of the couch, in front of Jason. They sit in shared silence, Bruce eyeing his bandaged leg. “At least let me take a look.”

Jason waves off a hand, “Later.” Jason looks around, taking in his surroundings. It's been years since he'd been in this room. The curtains that he remembered to be deep emerald were now maroon. The bed frame was mahogany, and the lamps had changed places although the shades were the same. 

“How are you feeling?”, Bruce asks, pulling Jason out of his trance-like expedition. “Really.”

Jason leans further into the chair, biting the inner lining of his cheeks. He sighs, “Better. Woke up… different. Clearer.”

“Good. That's… good”, and oh it's so remarkably awkward. One he and Bruce could not reach, he had thought. But here they are, wandering gazes and disjointed sentences. 

“Dick told me about the memory thing”, Bruce starts. Jason nods, kurt with his gaze downcast. “Do you think there are more such… gaps?”

“Wouldn't know”, he says with a frown.

“Jay”, Bruce's tone shifts to a more subdued, more gentle as he tries to coax Jason. “I know you don't wanna talk about it. I know you'd rather push me away. But I need to know what you're thinking right now?”

“What I'm thinking right now?”, he asks, incredulous.

“Its not easy to suddenly find out chunks of your life is missing from you”, Bruce continues, “so yes. I need to know what's going on.”

Jason clicks his tongue, “I don't know, Bruce. It's not like it would've made a difference.” It could've, it could've. He could've been that kid, he wouldn't have felt so alone. Things wouldn't be as hard. Right?

Except no. No because-

“How about this, huh? How about what I do remember. Do you care enough about that?”

“Of course I d-”

“Oh of course you do! Of course you do. And then I come back to find out my fucking murderer is still alive. That's what I remember. That I meant so little it didn't take long before you got another one to put in a suit. I mean, you must realize the optics of that right, replacing the street kid with another little Richie Rich, just like you”, he'd always had it, a penchant for cruelty, every word counting on its harshness. He knows it but the look on Bruce's face couldn't be more satisfying. “That's what I remember, being discarded like trash.”

“Jay, that's not what happened-”

“Don't fucking lie to me”, he stood up, not realizing for a second he put full weight on his leg, immediately folding in when Bruce moves forward to help him. He puts a hand up, stopping him in his tracks. “You and your kids want to play pretend that everything is just fine, well what do they know, Bruce? Do they know the night I begged you to let me kill my killer you chose him over me? Do they know you'd rather throw a Batarang at my throat than let me shoot that psychotic bastard?”, he ignored the shake in his voice, maintaining composure as he allowed his vocal cords to test their limits. “That you left me to bleed out on that floor. And then what, they expect me to be around the man who tried to kill me and still calls himself my father? Did I even make it out of the fucking building, Bruce?!”

The words surprise him as soon as they leave his mouth, he didn't think that did he? He's here. He wouldn't be here if he… 

“Jason”, Bruce starts, guarded but Jason cuts him off again.

“Answer me, Did I make it out of the fucking building”, he's leaning hard on the arm chair, his leg screaming at him with every passing second. 

“You're here, Jay. You're here.”

“Did you even try”, his voice suddenly small and the shake no longer disguised, “to find me?”

Bruce remains quiet, his jaw working as he eyes Jason. His body language screaming the urge to get in action, to make Jason sit or lie down even. To take a look at that leg.

“For all I know, my father killed me that night. He made his choice, he gets to live with it”, Jason says, his voice suddenly toneless, detached from him.

“Jay, I'm trying-”

“Oh you're trying”, he laughs, “that's great. That's really great. Hope you feel good about that.”

“Just listen to me. I'm not here to make excuses, I'm not trying to explain myself. But I made mistakes for which I need to make up no matter what it takes-”

“What if it took everything, Bruce. Because it takes everything from me each and every time. Why would I be a part of this family when it spit me out the second it got the chance? Why should I betray myself in lieu of forgiving you?”

That gets him because Bruce remains transfixed, stood in his place, face holding back with all it takes to not crumble. Jason pushes away from the chair, starting to walk towards the door.

“You lost me, Bruce. That's what you live with.”

He is almost at the door frame when something catches at his arm, a hand grasping right above his elbow. Jason turns.

“Then I will”, Bruce starts, meeting Jason's eyes. “I will live with it. But you will no longer suffer because of it. This is your home, Jay. This is your family. You don't have to forgive me but come back.”

Jason starts shaking his head, his eyes betraying him much like his voice. He's rendered unable to say anything. And Bruce's eyes staring into his, glimmering as his face lined with grief. 

“Just come back, Jay.”

“No… no I can't”, he tries shaking off Bruce's grip but it's almost iron, welded in its place. His undoing, yet again. He frees himself, standing in place, eyes searching Bruce. For what, he doesn't know. A semblance of truth. “I can't.”

“You can, you belong Jay. Let us work it out.”

Jason can't help but laugh except that it doesn't quite sound like one. Work it out. That absolute audacity, he finds himself thinking but his chest is in knots and his brain screaming at him. A chance, and how many more has he got left in him to give people. To give this life. He pulls away again and this time Bruce lets go.

“It's going to take a lot more than that”, No, no take it. Take it. He'll love you. He wants you there, he wants to fix this and isn't that what you wanted all along. But no, because that's what had been happening all along. Cass, Dick, maybe the next bat or bird wanting in on him. He can't help but feel it burn, the lasting embers of paranoia telling him it had all been an elaborate plan. Twisted manipulation. “And I'm done”, he steels himself in place, jaw tight and a glare digging right into Bruce's eyes, “I'm leaving.”

“You can't, not yet. Jason, you need more time to recover”, Bruce says, shifting gears. Back to the firmness.

“Then I'll use the fucking crutches. I'll ask Dick to drop me off”, he says despite his face flushed with anger, his gait swaying slightly. He holds the doorframe. “But I'm not spending another minute under your ruse.”

Bruce doesn't say another word and it digs at him. So that's it, he wants to say. That's all the fight you have in you. He steps out the room, his leg wobbling like the world had never known. His head hurts and he runs his hand through his damp hair, his hair Bruce made for him. He's held back enough but a tear makes its way through regardless. He takes in a shaky breath, rubbing at it quickly and blinks the rest of the wetness away. 

“Jay”, comes the voice from behind him but he doesn't turn to it. He can't. Lest he betray himself yet again. It's going to take a lot more than that, he tells himself. 

Dick wakes up to a soft knock on his door, sat on his bed as he tries to shake off the lingering haze of sleep from his brain. It raps again and he closes the distance in three strides.

Only to find Jason too close to the door, leaning heavily on the frame. “Are you okay?”, because he looks far from it. Face pale and eyes red-rimmed. His clothes looked fresh so he must have cleaned up.

“Can you take me to my apartment?”, He asks, voice small.

“To… grab something?”

“No just… just drop me there”, he watches Jason's white knuckled grip on the frame and his bandaged leg slightly elevated from the floor.

“You're leaving? Jay, you can barely walk”, he opens his door fully, grabbing at Jason's arm trying to pull him in whole just shrugs it off.

“Then help me, but get me out of here.”

“Jason, I'm leaving for Blüd today.”

“Then drop me on the way.”

Dick tries again and this time Jason enters, limping until Dick grips him by his waist and guides him to his bed. Jason sits on the edge. 

“Did something happen?”

Jason shakes his head, “I just wanna leave.”

“Was it Bruce?”

Jason lets out an amused huff, looking up at Dick. He shrugs, deciding to leave it at that. 

“Jason, you need to tell me. We can sort this out.”

“Dick please just… I've heard enough of working things through and sorting it out. I just wanna go back”, then he adds, for good measure, “I'm tired.”

When Dick says nothing, Jason gets up again, “Look either that or I'm gonna get someone else to do it for me-”

“Okay okay fine”, he pushes him back to sit down. “Just stay here, let me freshen up.”

It doesn't take long. Dick puts together his things in his carry-on while brushing his teeth, shaves, and takes a quick shower. All the while Jason sits on his bed, staring at the walls. Dick's older room, wallpaper slightly chipped off. Old posters still up and hanging. His eyes land on the cabinet, some books, old pictures and a trophy from Dick's Mathelete days. 

“Jay”, Dick starts, “I'll take you but on a few conditions.”

Jason turns to him, eyebrows raised, “What.”

Dick enters the bathroom and emerges with a white bottle in hand, shaking the pills inside and tossing it towards Jason who just barely misses it. 

“Take some of those, at least three”, and when Jason continues to stare at him, “it's just over the counter stuff, it barely does anything except relieve a bit of the pain.”

Jason obliges. Dick then helps him stand and they make their way down to the medbay. Dick brings him a pair of crutches and what looks like a small first aid box.

“I already have this stuff with me.”

“Well, take extra”, he doesn't wait for a response, just starts heading towards the garage, taking his keys out of the pocket. Jason makes his way to the car as Dick puts everything in the trunk and puts the crutches in the back seat. 

“Should I at least tell Bruce?”

Jason waves a hand off, “he already knows.”

Dick gapes, eyes slightly wide as he stood with his hands on his waist. “So something did happen.”

Jason shakes his head, walking over to the passenger seat and getting inside the car. Dick gets in the driver's, “Jason seriously-”

“Dick, just drop it.”

Dick starts the car, mumbling under his breath, “I can't believe this”, then louder, “did he say something to you?”

Jason shakes his head again. “Let's just go.”

For a moment Dick drives in silence, and Jason is grateful for that. But the tension gets the better of him and he goes again, “I have more conditions.”

Jason continues looking out of the window, buildings and cars coming more into view as they enter the main road. He doesn't say anything.

“You will check in everyday, morning and night. With anyone you feel comfortable, doesn't matter who. You'll be honest if you're unable to cook, I'll order food to your door. One of us will visit once a week to see how you're doing. And you'll call. The moment anything happens, the moment you need something, you will call me.”

Jason almost smiles, “Very helicopter of you.”

“Absolutely helicopter of me”, Dick says, stopping at the red light. “I'm serious, Jay. I'm trusting you to reach out when you need help.”

Jason nods, exhaling, “Yea… yea Dickie-bird.”

“Good”, the light greens, “Good.”

When they pulled up to Jason's building, Dick killed the engine and turned to look at him. They sit in silence for a moment, the weight of everything in between pressing down. Then Jason moves to open the door and Dick speaks.

“Jay”, he turns. “I'm not one to defend Bruce, I might not know everything but I know he messed up. And he knows that too.” Jason leans back on the car seat, looking ahead. Dick continues, “But he wants to do better. He loves you and he doesn't say it because he's an idiot. But he loves you.”

“He doesn't love me, Dick.”

Dick shakes his head, “You need to stop talking like that. You need to stop talking like we didn't lose you. Like you aren't that kid. You weren't there Jay, Bruce destroyed himself-”

“I don't wanna hear it.” 

Dick sighs. “I think you should. I think you need to know.”

Jason moves, opening the door and getting out of the car. He walks to the back seat, pulling out the crutches by the time Dick makes it out too. He gets the message, Jason thinks, so he doesn't start pestering him again. They walk over to the building, there's no elevator which is another point of contention because Dick starts worrying about how he's going to go up and down the staircase. And that spirals into something else because now he's asking what if there's a fire?

“I'll manage.”

They make it up to his flat, Jason takes out the keys, the distinct smell of his apartment welcoming him after what feels like months. Actually just one.

Dick puts the kit by the table, taking in the place but not making any remarks. No comments. Jason scoffs. They stand like that, awkwardness seeping in. Or spewing out, he can't tell. Then Dick moves, closing the distance between them and pulling Jason in a hug. 

Jason stiffened for a moment, his body rigid with his hands lax by his sides. Then slowly he moved too, arms wrapping around Dick's back as he buried his face in Dick's shoulder.

“I know”, Dick starts, his voice slightly muffled. “I know you're angry. And that you need time. And we want to give you that. But you need to know, Jay… whenever you're ready, whenever you want, you can come back. You can come home.”

Jason remains silent, throat working.

“You're my brother, little wing. Nothing is ever going to change that.”

They hold on, it feels like an eternity. How long since Jason had been held like this, like being pulled apart yet put together. How long until he'll be accepted in someone's arms again. Like he's losing yet gaining and gaining yet losing or some variation of it he doesn't himself know. He feels himself nod against Dick's shoulder and pulls away gently, Dick doing the same.

Despite all he's been told, in his body something else stands true. Something that he'd known all his life. In a minute, Dick will be out of that door and all the promises will walk out with him. He doesn't hope, for his shape doesn't know hope's grace. Only himself to count on. Only him. 

And that should be enough. For the rest of him and his forsaken life, it will be enough.