give until you bleed (out): part three
Title: give until you bleed (out): part three
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd
Word Count: 3,154
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Major character death on screen. Read parts one and two first; this will make zero sense without those.
Summary: Dick is in Jason’s living room when Tim flies in after the raid.
part one || part two
Dick is in Jason’s living room when Tim flies in after the raid. Tim’s intel had led to a location, and after a week of planning, stakeouts, and preparations, Jason had hit the warehouse tonight. It’s currently blazing merrily by the piers, and Tim is in a great mood.
He pulls up short when he spots Dick, sitting on the couch easy-as-you-please. Jason is at least fifteen minutes behind him, so Tim closes his eyes and moves to where Jason is swinging towards the loft.
“Dick is in the living room,” Tim reports, floating alongside Jason as he moves. “He didn’t try to hide the fact that he broke in, so I don’t think he’s there to try to bring you in.”
Jason comes to a stop on the roof of an apartment building. “Any idea what he wants?”
Tim shrugs. “It’s not like he know I was there, and he didn’t leave a note for me to read or anything.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jason says, tilting his head. “I can suggest it to him if you want.”
Tim snorts. “Do you think he’s going to be stopping by often enough for that to be of any use?”
“Hey,” Jason says, shooting a grapple at the next rooftop, “you never know with Dick.”
The rest of the trip is made in silence, and when Dick tenses at Jason’s entrance, Jason just flips him off and heads for the bathroom. “Ten minutes,” he says, stripping off his shirt and flinging it in the general direction of the hamper. “Tell baby bird what you’re here for. If it’s gonna be something that pisses me off, he can warn me about it while I’m still showering, and I can work out some of my aggression before you start preaching in my general direction.”
Dick blinks as Jason shuts the bathroom door. Tim floats almost lazily, hovering a few feet above Dick’s head in halfhearted circles.
“Uh,” Dick says, looking around. “I’m sorry, but this is - really weird. I don’t even know where to look.” He makes a frustrated noise and runs his hands through his hair. “Mostly I’m just checking in, I guess. I know Jason was involved with that warehouse that mysteriously went up in flames tonight. I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re the one who convinced him to leave the guys responsible for it zip-stripped for the cops, instead of just throwing the baby out with the bathwater, as it were.”
Tim snorts. “There’s some confidence,” he says, knowing Dick can’t hear him. “Actually, he asked me how many guys were inside before we hit the place, Dick. The guys there aren’t the ones responsible. They’re little more than petty thieves for hire, and if Jason is going to kill someone, they’ll have to have done something a little more complex than ‘stand around a bunch of boxes.’”
Dick is looking around like he’s actively straining to hear Tim’s reply. He sighs and slumps a little when, predictably, he doesn’t hear anything. “I hate this,” he says softly.
“Join the club,” Tim agrees, settling on the couch next to Dick. “I mean, Jason’s good company, but I’d like to be able to talk to someone else sometimes.”
“I know you’re probably thinking the same thing,” Dick echoes. “It’s just - I can’t imagine it’s easy for you, being stuck with Jason as the only one who can hear you.”
Tim narrows his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You guys didn’t get along,” Dick goes on. “I mean, you really hated each other. I keep trying to imagine being in your shoes, wanting so badly to talk to someone, and then finding out the only person around that can hear me is Deathstroke.”
“Okay, that’s going a little too far,” Tim says, floating off of the couch and circling until he’s staring in Dick’s face. “Jason and I are two sides of the same coin, Dick, not a penny and a dollar bill.”
“I just,” Dick sighs.
“If you end that sentence with any version of ‘feel sorry for you,’ I’m going to find a way to strangle you,” Tim snarls, leaning in until his nose would almost be brushing Dick’s. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
“Am I interrupting?” Jason says from the bathroom door, and Tim whirls to face him, flying back as he does so. Dick simply turns to look at him, looking slightly confused.
“I don’t think so,” Dick says cautiously. “I was just talking to Tim.”
“Tell him I don’t need his pity,” Tim nearly snaps. His heart would be beating in his throat, if it could. “Tell him that you’re way better company than Deathstroke, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t make the comparison again.”
Jason makes a face at Dick and crosses his arms over his chest. “You compared me to Deathstroke? Thanks a lot, asshole.”
Dick shrugs. “I didn’t really mean it like that,” he tries. Tim pinches his nose and shakes his head.
“I don’t know why he’s here,” he says to Jason. “Mostly, he just talked around how bad he feels that I’m stuck with you.”
“Classy,” Jason snorts. “So, Dick, why did you break into our humble abode? Isn’t it a school night for you?”
Dick frowns. “I just wanted to see how things were going.”
“Going great,” Jason replies, arms still firmly crossed over his chest. “Anything else?”
“I wish I could talk to Tim,” Dick blurts, then colors faintly. “I - not that I’m not talking to you now, Tim, but-”
“Stop before you hurt yourself,” Jason says dryly. “You mean you have something to ask him that you don’t want me to hear.”
Tim snorts. “Just ask me,” he says to Dick’s head. He’s floating a few feet off the floor.
“Ask,” Jason translates.
Dick lets out a breath and nods. “Tim, I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, even though I don’t know if there’s really a right way to ask. You’re not - I know you’re not okay, so that’s not the right question, but - you’re not - doing anything that you wouldn’t? Or anything like that?”
There’s a moment of silence before Dick turns expectantly to Jason, who shrugs. He’s staring at Tim as Tim floats down until he’s hovering just above the coffee table, face-to-face with Dick. “Are you asking me if I’m, what, some sort of ghost criminal?”
“I think he was more asking if I had you doing things that went against your moral code,” Jason says, still looking at Tim. “I’m not sure what sort of control he thinks I have over you. I don’t think he gets how this works.”
It’s strange, Tim notes, whatever it is that he’s feeling. He’d had moments on the street that almost approached this, and he’s heard of white-hot anger and seeing red. This is almost the opposite, though, this cold fire that seems to be seeping through his body and turning him to ice.
“I’m being useful,” he snarls, right into Dick’s face. “I’m stuck here. I can’t go back, and I can’t go on, so I’m making the best of a shitty situation.” He flings a hand in Jason’s direction. “Jason is not making me do anything. He asked if I would help him get some information, and I jumped at the chance to do something.”
“Jason,” Dick says softly, his eyes slightly wide as he stares almost into Tim’s eyes. “What’s-”
“Take a breath, baby bird,” Jason says. Tim glances over, and notices that Jason’s arms are hanging loosely by his sides. It’s almost a ready stance, which would mean more if Jason could actually touch him. “He’s just trying to look out for you-”
“Stop,” Tim snaps. “No, I know what he’s doing. First he didn’t believe that I was here, and now he thinks that I can’t take care of myself. I can’t get hurt, I can’t be seen, I can’t get caught, and yet he still wants me to just sit around.”
Tim clenches his shaking fists and tries to focus on taking a breath, on Jason’s voice as he says something, low and rough.
“I’m just trying to keep an eye out,” Dick says, probably in reply to whatever Jason had said, and that’s when Tim’s control snaps.
“You can’t,” he yells, slamming his fists into Dick’s chest. “You can’t help me, so stop trying to interfere!”
Dick makes a whimpering sound and looks down. His hands come up to press against his chest, right where Tim’s wrists are sticking out. “Jason,” he says, and his voice sounds terrible, hoarse and pained. Tim jerks back when Dick looks up again. His skin is paler than Tim has ever seen it, and the blue seems to be draining from his eyes as Tim watches.
“Tim, baby, back off,” Jason says frantically, and suddenly he’s right there, grabbing Dick and pulling him off the couch, away from Tim’s reach. Tim watches in stunned horror as Jason talks Dick through taking deep breaths, rubbing at his shoulders until Dick finally looks like himself again.
“I’m sorry, Timmy,” is the first thing that Dick says when Jason finally moves away, and all Tim can do is sit as near to Dick as he can without not-touching him, wiping away whatever counts as his tears on the hem of his shirt.
-0-
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks as he covers the window again. Alfred had driven right over when Jason had called, and Dick is now safely on his way back to the Manor.
“Not really,” Tim says without looking up. He’s had his head between his knees for the last ten minutes, and he’s too exhausted to move. It’s a little confusing, he thinks; he doesn’t sleep, so how is he supposed to recover?
Jason sits down next to him. “Can you listen to me talking about it?”
That gets Tim to look up. “You know something about this?”
“No,” Jason replies. “I mean, I have an idea, but nothing like that ever happened when I was in your shoes.” He smiles tiredly. “They always did say you were the precocious one.”
Tim snorts. “Emotion,” he guesses. “Strong emotional responses get me closer to the physical plane.” He waves a hand around. “Apparently, really strong emotion lets me drain the life out of someone with my hands.”
“Dick is fine,” Jason says. Tim has the feeling he’ll be repeating that for a while. “He’s more tired than he probably should be, and chances are good that he’ll skip patrol for a night or two to be on the safe side, but he’s fine, baby bird.”
“I could have killed him without even realizing I was doing it,” Tim says, dropping his head back to his knees. “I could have killed him, Jason.”
There’s a moment of silence before Jason sighs. “It’s a good thing you can’t talk to anyone else, because I would not be happy with this getting around, but I wish I could give you a hug right now.”
“I’m wishing that too,” Tim replies. “I don’t - I’m not really a hugger. Not usually.”
“I think tonight calls for hugs,” Jason says decisively, as if he can will it so by wanting it enough. Tim knows that’s not the case; he’s spent enough time trying to touch things on his own. “And shitty movies. I think I saw something called Man-Thing when I was flipping through the channels earlier. Sound like a plan?”
“Let’s do it,” Tim says, shifting until he’s almost leaning on Jason. Jason puts his arm behind Tim on the couch, and it’s the nearest thing to a hug that Tim has had in longer than he cares to think about.
-0-
He can’t actually control it, is the thing.
Tim wants to figure out everything he can about this… ability, for lack of a better term. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but if he can figure out how to use it in a less deadly manner, he might be able to help with more than just gathering intel.
“You don’t have to,” Jason tries to argue. “Seriously, baby bird, you’re doing great with what you have. We’ve taken out more big names in the past month and a half than I did on my own in the year before that.”
“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “And we can take down more if I can figure out how to actually be backup, instead of floating around uselessly while you get attacked from three sides.”
Jason grimaces. “That was once. And I did fine, remember?”
“Thirteen stitches,” Tim replies. “That’s not fine.”
“Picky, picky,” Jason mock-grumbles. “Really, though, baby bird, if you want something to do, we can go spy on Papakitos some more. I’m sure he’ll just keep singing if we keep listening.”
Tim sighs. “Maybe I’ll figure out how to zap one of his cronies while I’m there.”
-0-
Papakitos falls gracelessly, skin paper-white and eyes unseeing. Tim yanks his hands away as soon as the gangster starts to crumple, already spinning around.
“Jason,” he says hoarsely, and then he’s crouching on the ground, hand shimmering strangely as he waves it in front of Jason’s face. “Jason, come on, time to get up.”
Jason makes a strange groaning sound and curls into himself, one hand pressed tightly to the hole in his chest. His face is nearly as white as Papakitos’. “Tim?”
“Come on, Jason,” Tim says frantically. “Listen to me. You need to call for help, okay? Turn your radio on.”
“Can’t,” Jason says. There’s a weird little smile on his face when he turns it to look up at Tim. “Thought. Thought it wouldn’t hurt so bad this time.” His chest rises and falls slowly, and there’s a wheezing sound in the air. “Company’s better now.”
“Jay,” Tim says, grabbing uselessly for Jason’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes open. Stay with me, okay?”
“Sounds good,” Jason says. settling his head back against the floor. “Staying. With you.”
There’s a gurgling noise as Jason’s chest rises and falls, and then there’s nothing, no movement or sound or anything at all.
-0-
Tim floats.
It’s not like the floating was before; he’s not really above or below or beside anything. He’s not in the Cave or the Watchtower or the loft he had shared with Jason. He’s not anywhere, not really, or at least he doesn’t think he is.
When he’s thinking at all.
He’s mostly afraid, really; he remembers Jason talking about his own experience while he was dead, how he’d been lonely, how he’d nearly gone crazy without someone to talk to. Tim knows that his state of mind at the time of his death wasn’t nearly as healthy as Jason’s had been, and he’s worried about what he’ll be like in a month’s time, or a year’s.
Not that it matters. Not when he can’t talk to anyone.
There’s a sound, and Tim looks around for a moment before realizing that he’d made it. He opens his mouth and the sound repeats, an ugly sort of thing that’s not a laugh or a sob. It’s just Tim and his blackness and his sounds and his worries.
There’s no concept of time that Tim can track, so he has no idea how long it’s been since he checked in on the remains of his family when he finds himself in the Cave. Bruce is hunched over the workstation, completely expressionless as he types. Tim watches him for what seems like hours, but he just keeps working on and on.
There’s a sound on the stairs, and when Tim turns he finds Dick staring at Bruce. He looks awful, with bags under his eyes and a large bruise across the left side of his face. Tim floats nearer, reaching out, but Dick doesn’t react.
He sighs after a minute and turns his head, and Tim follows his gaze. Tim’s Case stands next to Jason’s, and even knowing that the Case existed isn’t enough to prepare Tim for the reality of seeing it. He’s in front of it before he can blink, and he doesn’t hesitate before reaching through the glass to lay his hand against the fabric of his cape. Not being able to feel it beneath his fingers would be much worse if he couldn’t feel the cape flowing over his shoulders as his clothing shifts, falling down and down to the floor.
Tim doesn’t cast a reflection anymore, but he can imagine what he looks like. He wonders what it would look like to Jason if he could see it - Robin in front of his own memorial Case. He’d probably laugh at Tim, crack some sort of joke meant to make Tim feel better. It would probably even work.
He turns to Jason’s Case, looking at the uniform that he’d memorized months before he’d been allowed out on the street. He’s seen it before, so he knows what to expect - except he doesn’t, not really, because Jason’s helmet is on the floor of the Case, resting just beneath the end of the cape.
The Cave fades in and out at the edges of Tim’s vision, and when he blinks and focuses, he’s in the loft, sitting on the couch. He takes a deep breath as he leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and letting his head drop.
“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Tim mutters aloud. It’s the first time he’s said anything since - since. It feels good to speak, to get part of the hurt out. “I don’t know what to do, where to go - I can’t handle this on my own.”
“Good thing you don’t have to.”
Tim’s head snaps up instantly, and he shoots to his feet as he focuses on the other side of the loft. Jason is standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, smiling crookedly at Tim. “Hey.”
“I - what?” Tim closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, but when he opens them again, Jason is still there. “What are you - Jason?”
Jason taps his fingers against his head. “Think, baby bird. I’m no more finished now than I was the first time around.” He takes a step away from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You’re here,” Tim says unnecessarily. “I - you can see me, you can hear me.”
Jason’s smile widens. “I can do you one better,” he says, floating over until he’s standing in front of Tim. He lifts his hand and reaches out slowly, and when he settles his fingers against Tim’s shoulder-
Against. Not in, not through. Against.
“Hi,” Jason says, and it takes a minute to click, but as soon as it does Tim launches himself at Jason, laughing as Jason catches him in what is probably the best hug that Tim has ever experienced.
“Hi,” Tim whispers back, holding on.
This was originally posted at http://somehowunbroken.dreamwidth.org/195821.html, where it has
comments. Comment here or there.
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: DCU
Characters: Tim Drake, Jason Todd
Word Count: 3,154
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Major character death on screen. Read parts one and two first; this will make zero sense without those.
Summary: Dick is in Jason’s living room when Tim flies in after the raid.
part one || part two
Dick is in Jason’s living room when Tim flies in after the raid. Tim’s intel had led to a location, and after a week of planning, stakeouts, and preparations, Jason had hit the warehouse tonight. It’s currently blazing merrily by the piers, and Tim is in a great mood.
He pulls up short when he spots Dick, sitting on the couch easy-as-you-please. Jason is at least fifteen minutes behind him, so Tim closes his eyes and moves to where Jason is swinging towards the loft.
“Dick is in the living room,” Tim reports, floating alongside Jason as he moves. “He didn’t try to hide the fact that he broke in, so I don’t think he’s there to try to bring you in.”
Jason comes to a stop on the roof of an apartment building. “Any idea what he wants?”
Tim shrugs. “It’s not like he know I was there, and he didn’t leave a note for me to read or anything.”
“That’s not a bad idea, actually,” Jason says, tilting his head. “I can suggest it to him if you want.”
Tim snorts. “Do you think he’s going to be stopping by often enough for that to be of any use?”
“Hey,” Jason says, shooting a grapple at the next rooftop, “you never know with Dick.”
The rest of the trip is made in silence, and when Dick tenses at Jason’s entrance, Jason just flips him off and heads for the bathroom. “Ten minutes,” he says, stripping off his shirt and flinging it in the general direction of the hamper. “Tell baby bird what you’re here for. If it’s gonna be something that pisses me off, he can warn me about it while I’m still showering, and I can work out some of my aggression before you start preaching in my general direction.”
Dick blinks as Jason shuts the bathroom door. Tim floats almost lazily, hovering a few feet above Dick’s head in halfhearted circles.
“Uh,” Dick says, looking around. “I’m sorry, but this is - really weird. I don’t even know where to look.” He makes a frustrated noise and runs his hands through his hair. “Mostly I’m just checking in, I guess. I know Jason was involved with that warehouse that mysteriously went up in flames tonight. I’m going to go ahead and assume you’re the one who convinced him to leave the guys responsible for it zip-stripped for the cops, instead of just throwing the baby out with the bathwater, as it were.”
Tim snorts. “There’s some confidence,” he says, knowing Dick can’t hear him. “Actually, he asked me how many guys were inside before we hit the place, Dick. The guys there aren’t the ones responsible. They’re little more than petty thieves for hire, and if Jason is going to kill someone, they’ll have to have done something a little more complex than ‘stand around a bunch of boxes.’”
Dick is looking around like he’s actively straining to hear Tim’s reply. He sighs and slumps a little when, predictably, he doesn’t hear anything. “I hate this,” he says softly.
“Join the club,” Tim agrees, settling on the couch next to Dick. “I mean, Jason’s good company, but I’d like to be able to talk to someone else sometimes.”
“I know you’re probably thinking the same thing,” Dick echoes. “It’s just - I can’t imagine it’s easy for you, being stuck with Jason as the only one who can hear you.”
Tim narrows his eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You guys didn’t get along,” Dick goes on. “I mean, you really hated each other. I keep trying to imagine being in your shoes, wanting so badly to talk to someone, and then finding out the only person around that can hear me is Deathstroke.”
“Okay, that’s going a little too far,” Tim says, floating off of the couch and circling until he’s staring in Dick’s face. “Jason and I are two sides of the same coin, Dick, not a penny and a dollar bill.”
“I just,” Dick sighs.
“If you end that sentence with any version of ‘feel sorry for you,’ I’m going to find a way to strangle you,” Tim snarls, leaning in until his nose would almost be brushing Dick’s. “Don’t. Don’t say it.”
“Am I interrupting?” Jason says from the bathroom door, and Tim whirls to face him, flying back as he does so. Dick simply turns to look at him, looking slightly confused.
“I don’t think so,” Dick says cautiously. “I was just talking to Tim.”
“Tell him I don’t need his pity,” Tim nearly snaps. His heart would be beating in his throat, if it could. “Tell him that you’re way better company than Deathstroke, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t make the comparison again.”
Jason makes a face at Dick and crosses his arms over his chest. “You compared me to Deathstroke? Thanks a lot, asshole.”
Dick shrugs. “I didn’t really mean it like that,” he tries. Tim pinches his nose and shakes his head.
“I don’t know why he’s here,” he says to Jason. “Mostly, he just talked around how bad he feels that I’m stuck with you.”
“Classy,” Jason snorts. “So, Dick, why did you break into our humble abode? Isn’t it a school night for you?”
Dick frowns. “I just wanted to see how things were going.”
“Going great,” Jason replies, arms still firmly crossed over his chest. “Anything else?”
“I wish I could talk to Tim,” Dick blurts, then colors faintly. “I - not that I’m not talking to you now, Tim, but-”
“Stop before you hurt yourself,” Jason says dryly. “You mean you have something to ask him that you don’t want me to hear.”
Tim snorts. “Just ask me,” he says to Dick’s head. He’s floating a few feet off the floor.
“Ask,” Jason translates.
Dick lets out a breath and nods. “Tim, I don’t want this to come out the wrong way, even though I don’t know if there’s really a right way to ask. You’re not - I know you’re not okay, so that’s not the right question, but - you’re not - doing anything that you wouldn’t? Or anything like that?”
There’s a moment of silence before Dick turns expectantly to Jason, who shrugs. He’s staring at Tim as Tim floats down until he’s hovering just above the coffee table, face-to-face with Dick. “Are you asking me if I’m, what, some sort of ghost criminal?”
“I think he was more asking if I had you doing things that went against your moral code,” Jason says, still looking at Tim. “I’m not sure what sort of control he thinks I have over you. I don’t think he gets how this works.”
It’s strange, Tim notes, whatever it is that he’s feeling. He’d had moments on the street that almost approached this, and he’s heard of white-hot anger and seeing red. This is almost the opposite, though, this cold fire that seems to be seeping through his body and turning him to ice.
“I’m being useful,” he snarls, right into Dick’s face. “I’m stuck here. I can’t go back, and I can’t go on, so I’m making the best of a shitty situation.” He flings a hand in Jason’s direction. “Jason is not making me do anything. He asked if I would help him get some information, and I jumped at the chance to do something.”
“Jason,” Dick says softly, his eyes slightly wide as he stares almost into Tim’s eyes. “What’s-”
“Take a breath, baby bird,” Jason says. Tim glances over, and notices that Jason’s arms are hanging loosely by his sides. It’s almost a ready stance, which would mean more if Jason could actually touch him. “He’s just trying to look out for you-”
“Stop,” Tim snaps. “No, I know what he’s doing. First he didn’t believe that I was here, and now he thinks that I can’t take care of myself. I can’t get hurt, I can’t be seen, I can’t get caught, and yet he still wants me to just sit around.”
Tim clenches his shaking fists and tries to focus on taking a breath, on Jason’s voice as he says something, low and rough.
“I’m just trying to keep an eye out,” Dick says, probably in reply to whatever Jason had said, and that’s when Tim’s control snaps.
“You can’t,” he yells, slamming his fists into Dick’s chest. “You can’t help me, so stop trying to interfere!”
Dick makes a whimpering sound and looks down. His hands come up to press against his chest, right where Tim’s wrists are sticking out. “Jason,” he says, and his voice sounds terrible, hoarse and pained. Tim jerks back when Dick looks up again. His skin is paler than Tim has ever seen it, and the blue seems to be draining from his eyes as Tim watches.
“Tim, baby, back off,” Jason says frantically, and suddenly he’s right there, grabbing Dick and pulling him off the couch, away from Tim’s reach. Tim watches in stunned horror as Jason talks Dick through taking deep breaths, rubbing at his shoulders until Dick finally looks like himself again.
“I’m sorry, Timmy,” is the first thing that Dick says when Jason finally moves away, and all Tim can do is sit as near to Dick as he can without not-touching him, wiping away whatever counts as his tears on the hem of his shirt.
-0-
“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks as he covers the window again. Alfred had driven right over when Jason had called, and Dick is now safely on his way back to the Manor.
“Not really,” Tim says without looking up. He’s had his head between his knees for the last ten minutes, and he’s too exhausted to move. It’s a little confusing, he thinks; he doesn’t sleep, so how is he supposed to recover?
Jason sits down next to him. “Can you listen to me talking about it?”
That gets Tim to look up. “You know something about this?”
“No,” Jason replies. “I mean, I have an idea, but nothing like that ever happened when I was in your shoes.” He smiles tiredly. “They always did say you were the precocious one.”
Tim snorts. “Emotion,” he guesses. “Strong emotional responses get me closer to the physical plane.” He waves a hand around. “Apparently, really strong emotion lets me drain the life out of someone with my hands.”
“Dick is fine,” Jason says. Tim has the feeling he’ll be repeating that for a while. “He’s more tired than he probably should be, and chances are good that he’ll skip patrol for a night or two to be on the safe side, but he’s fine, baby bird.”
“I could have killed him without even realizing I was doing it,” Tim says, dropping his head back to his knees. “I could have killed him, Jason.”
There’s a moment of silence before Jason sighs. “It’s a good thing you can’t talk to anyone else, because I would not be happy with this getting around, but I wish I could give you a hug right now.”
“I’m wishing that too,” Tim replies. “I don’t - I’m not really a hugger. Not usually.”
“I think tonight calls for hugs,” Jason says decisively, as if he can will it so by wanting it enough. Tim knows that’s not the case; he’s spent enough time trying to touch things on his own. “And shitty movies. I think I saw something called Man-Thing when I was flipping through the channels earlier. Sound like a plan?”
“Let’s do it,” Tim says, shifting until he’s almost leaning on Jason. Jason puts his arm behind Tim on the couch, and it’s the nearest thing to a hug that Tim has had in longer than he cares to think about.
-0-
He can’t actually control it, is the thing.
Tim wants to figure out everything he can about this… ability, for lack of a better term. He doesn’t want to kill anyone, but if he can figure out how to use it in a less deadly manner, he might be able to help with more than just gathering intel.
“You don’t have to,” Jason tries to argue. “Seriously, baby bird, you’re doing great with what you have. We’ve taken out more big names in the past month and a half than I did on my own in the year before that.”
“Yeah,” Tim agrees. “And we can take down more if I can figure out how to actually be backup, instead of floating around uselessly while you get attacked from three sides.”
Jason grimaces. “That was once. And I did fine, remember?”
“Thirteen stitches,” Tim replies. “That’s not fine.”
“Picky, picky,” Jason mock-grumbles. “Really, though, baby bird, if you want something to do, we can go spy on Papakitos some more. I’m sure he’ll just keep singing if we keep listening.”
Tim sighs. “Maybe I’ll figure out how to zap one of his cronies while I’m there.”
-0-
Papakitos falls gracelessly, skin paper-white and eyes unseeing. Tim yanks his hands away as soon as the gangster starts to crumple, already spinning around.
“Jason,” he says hoarsely, and then he’s crouching on the ground, hand shimmering strangely as he waves it in front of Jason’s face. “Jason, come on, time to get up.”
Jason makes a strange groaning sound and curls into himself, one hand pressed tightly to the hole in his chest. His face is nearly as white as Papakitos’. “Tim?”
“Come on, Jason,” Tim says frantically. “Listen to me. You need to call for help, okay? Turn your radio on.”
“Can’t,” Jason says. There’s a weird little smile on his face when he turns it to look up at Tim. “Thought. Thought it wouldn’t hurt so bad this time.” His chest rises and falls slowly, and there’s a wheezing sound in the air. “Company’s better now.”
“Jay,” Tim says, grabbing uselessly for Jason’s shoulder. “Keep your eyes open. Stay with me, okay?”
“Sounds good,” Jason says. settling his head back against the floor. “Staying. With you.”
There’s a gurgling noise as Jason’s chest rises and falls, and then there’s nothing, no movement or sound or anything at all.
-0-
Tim floats.
It’s not like the floating was before; he’s not really above or below or beside anything. He’s not in the Cave or the Watchtower or the loft he had shared with Jason. He’s not anywhere, not really, or at least he doesn’t think he is.
When he’s thinking at all.
He’s mostly afraid, really; he remembers Jason talking about his own experience while he was dead, how he’d been lonely, how he’d nearly gone crazy without someone to talk to. Tim knows that his state of mind at the time of his death wasn’t nearly as healthy as Jason’s had been, and he’s worried about what he’ll be like in a month’s time, or a year’s.
Not that it matters. Not when he can’t talk to anyone.
There’s a sound, and Tim looks around for a moment before realizing that he’d made it. He opens his mouth and the sound repeats, an ugly sort of thing that’s not a laugh or a sob. It’s just Tim and his blackness and his sounds and his worries.
There’s no concept of time that Tim can track, so he has no idea how long it’s been since he checked in on the remains of his family when he finds himself in the Cave. Bruce is hunched over the workstation, completely expressionless as he types. Tim watches him for what seems like hours, but he just keeps working on and on.
There’s a sound on the stairs, and when Tim turns he finds Dick staring at Bruce. He looks awful, with bags under his eyes and a large bruise across the left side of his face. Tim floats nearer, reaching out, but Dick doesn’t react.
He sighs after a minute and turns his head, and Tim follows his gaze. Tim’s Case stands next to Jason’s, and even knowing that the Case existed isn’t enough to prepare Tim for the reality of seeing it. He’s in front of it before he can blink, and he doesn’t hesitate before reaching through the glass to lay his hand against the fabric of his cape. Not being able to feel it beneath his fingers would be much worse if he couldn’t feel the cape flowing over his shoulders as his clothing shifts, falling down and down to the floor.
Tim doesn’t cast a reflection anymore, but he can imagine what he looks like. He wonders what it would look like to Jason if he could see it - Robin in front of his own memorial Case. He’d probably laugh at Tim, crack some sort of joke meant to make Tim feel better. It would probably even work.
He turns to Jason’s Case, looking at the uniform that he’d memorized months before he’d been allowed out on the street. He’s seen it before, so he knows what to expect - except he doesn’t, not really, because Jason’s helmet is on the floor of the Case, resting just beneath the end of the cape.
The Cave fades in and out at the edges of Tim’s vision, and when he blinks and focuses, he’s in the loft, sitting on the couch. He takes a deep breath as he leans forward, putting his elbows on his thighs and letting his head drop.
“I don’t know how to deal with this,” Tim mutters aloud. It’s the first time he’s said anything since - since. It feels good to speak, to get part of the hurt out. “I don’t know what to do, where to go - I can’t handle this on my own.”
“Good thing you don’t have to.”
Tim’s head snaps up instantly, and he shoots to his feet as he focuses on the other side of the loft. Jason is standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, smiling crookedly at Tim. “Hey.”
“I - what?” Tim closes his eyes tightly and shakes his head, but when he opens them again, Jason is still there. “What are you - Jason?”
Jason taps his fingers against his head. “Think, baby bird. I’m no more finished now than I was the first time around.” He takes a step away from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You’re here,” Tim says unnecessarily. “I - you can see me, you can hear me.”
Jason’s smile widens. “I can do you one better,” he says, floating over until he’s standing in front of Tim. He lifts his hand and reaches out slowly, and when he settles his fingers against Tim’s shoulder-
Against. Not in, not through. Against.
“Hi,” Jason says, and it takes a minute to click, but as soon as it does Tim launches himself at Jason, laughing as Jason catches him in what is probably the best hug that Tim has ever experienced.
“Hi,” Tim whispers back, holding on.
This was originally posted at http://somehowunbroken.dreamwidth.org/195821.html, where it has
comments. Comment here or there.