Disclaimer: I do not own the batman universe nor do I profit from it.

Warning: Strong Language, Mentions of Homicidal Tendencies, unbeta-ed (all the faults are my own)

Jason Called

Jason stumbled wearily into one of his hideouts. The clock was minutes away from midnight, and he was already beaten bloody and good for the night. Pathetic, he knew, but there was no helping his newly dislocated shoulder, a few fractured ribs, and a whole list of medical problems Jason couldn't completely discern. With each step – more like limping thud – he took, he felt a new injury added to the never ending list. If Bruce could see him now, he'd give him a visual body scan lasting only a second followed by some harsh grunt – because using actual words took too much of his time – that clearly said how unimpressed he was.

'Bastard.' Jason chuckled sardonically to himself, though the humor was short lived as his ribs ached. Nonetheless, Jason muttered through his clenched jaw, "You should see… the other guys, poor assholes. But they're lucky. Unlike me, they won't be feeling nothing in the morning."

Bruce's eyes would narrow in disappointment, and although those eyes would be hidden behind white lenses, Jason knew how this show played well enough. It was like some bad sit-com. You know, the ones where there's a fake laughing live audience that cues in after every line, and no matter how bad the ratings were and how long it ago it was when the show was canceled, the cable company still played reruns at ungodly hours. And because you can't go to sleep, you're forced to sit there and watch. Yeah, Jason watched the shit out of those shows with Dick.

Oh, and the show Supernatural. He couldn't forget that one. I mean, have you seen Sam Winchester's body? Also, the show had taught him some very valuable life lessons because no matter what people said, ghosts were real. Put Jason in the crossfire of a multiple gang war, and he's fine. Leave him in the graveyard at midnight with a full moon, and Jason would be high tailing it out of there like it was the end of the world. And Jason had been through some shit. A lot of shit. A lot of near death experiences. Death experiences. Yeah, he never let anyone forget about that one, especially Bruce.

But enough of the Bat.

Jason sorely toed off his boots, collapsed heavily in a chair, and held a bag of frozen peas to his swollen eye. Hm, Jason could sigh contentedly if it wouldn't hurt his ribs so much.

Everything was silent; everything was still… for a very short-lived moment. The damn second hand of his clock kept ticking incessantly, and his old ceiling light buzzed before flickering with a small clicking noise that seemed to sync with the clock.

"Damn." Jason groaned. Did his lazy-ass landlord forget to pay the electric bill again?

Thump—!

Jason cracked one eye open to see one of his CDs on the floor. 'Odd…' "That wasn't—"

In one fellow swoop, his neatly stacked, and alphabetically organized CDs went flying. They clattered to the floor as books one by one followed, flipping into the air as if someone were plucking them and tossing them over their shoulder.

Jason froze. The ceiling light went out, the clock struck midnight, and the room temperature had alarmingly dropped to the point that Jason could see his breath clearly.

"Shit."

The forgotten phone rang once, twice, thrice, before the teen decided he might as well pick it up.

"Hello, this is Tim speaking. Dick isn't here right now; can I take a message for you?"

"What are you? His secretary?" Tim groaned at the unfortunately, all too familiar voice on the other end, though before he could say anything, Jason amended, "Never mind, where's Dick?"

Tim replied apathetically, "Don't know."

"Well I need him."

"Why?"

"Because… I just need him, dammit! Now where the fuck is he?"

Tim took a deep breath and steeled himself before saying, "I. Don't. Know. Why do you want him so badly? What? Are you bleeding out in some alley? Do you see the light? It's okay, Jason, go to the light. Everything will be okay."

"Listen here you little shit, I'm stuck here in a circle of salt right now, but as soon as I get out of here, and you don't find where the hell Dick is I will—"

"Excuse me. You're stuck where?" Tim had to bite his lip from laughing incredulously at the very irate anti-hero.

"Salt! I'm stuck in a fucking circle of salt! And if Dick isn't around to help me, then I guess I'm gonna have to settle with you."

"Gee, thanks. Now why would I do that exactly?"

"You will get your sorry ass down here in under a minute, or else I'm sending Conner all your selfies." Tim froze. "Or maybe I'll just send him that one selfie of you wearing a Superboy shirt with a duck face and—"

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Hey, Clone-boy," Jason mockingly narrated as if he were reading aloud a new text, "check this out. Exclamation mark. Winky face. Attach picture and—"

"Alright!" Jason paused triumphantly. "I'm on my way."

"Perfect! Oh, and bring some iron too."

"Oh, I'll bring a bloody crowbar. Don't you worry."

"Great! See you soon!"

Wham! Tim roughly kicked the front door open with the crowbar resting over his shoulder. Blue eyes a shade homicidal met Jason's gaze.

"You called."

"Good to see you!" Jason's voice was a pitch higher than Tim had ever heard it, and the poor idiot was shaking, shivering really with his arms crossed and body caved into itself as if to keep warm.

"You look like shit."

"Still better looking than you." Tim turned on his heel to leave when Jason yelled, "Wait! Sorry! It's a reflex okay. Just… please don't leave me here."

Tim paused. "Did you just say 'sorry', and 'please'?" Tim looked agape at Jason for a moment or two before fully turning back into the apartment with a histrionic sigh. "Well since you asked so nicely, what seems to be the problem?"

"You don't see it?"

"See what?"

"The…" Jason's turned his gaze to some corner of the room before glancing back to Tim and whispering, "Her."

"You've lost me."

Jason groaned, frustrated, mad, and… dare he say it, scared. "Tim, of the two of us, you're the detective. You put the pieces together: the lights are out, it's cold as balls, and my apartment is shit."

Tim sighed, before holding up his index finger, "First of all, your landlord hasn't paid the bills for months. I saw his mailbox overflowing with long overdue gas and electric bills, which explains the lights. Secondly," Tim raised his middle finger to join the index, "since the gas isn't on, and it's the middle of fucking February, of course it's cold in here. And thirdly," Tim raised his ring finger, now wiggling all three exasperatedly, "your hideouts always look like shit."

"Okay, first of all, rude." Jason huffed, "And secondly," Jason mocked Tim by holding two of his own fingers up, "would I ruin my stack of discs? No one disrespects Steve McQueen like that."

"Who?"

"Steve McQueen. You know, the King of Cool?"

"The King of what?" Tim clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his incredulous laugh. "I'm sorry, but that's got to be the cheesiest title ever."

"You are officially dead to me." Jason huffed.

Tim smirked. "Oh, so does that make me a ghost now?"

"Don't." Tim's smirk faltered at the sudden pale look Jason was giving him.

"Don't what…? Ghost?" Jason shuddered. "Really? You called me down here for a ghost? You've got to be kidding me. Jason, ghosts aren't real."

"The hell they aren't!" Jason yelled, before glancing over at that corner again as if fearful he had aggravated the darkness. Once it seemed like the coast was clear Jason continued in a hushed tone, "I didn't think ghosts were real either. Hell, I even laughed when I watched Supernatural with Dick. But then for some reason, I seem to be some goddamn ghost magnet."

"So you call Dick every time some ghost decides to haunt you?"

"Look, I'm not a good guy. I think we can both agree to that, right? And with my past, understandably I'd have some pissed off ghost after me, and Dick always knows what to do, so I call him, and we're both still alive."

"Unfortunately." Tim muttered. He could kill Jason. Hell, he was ready to beat him bloody with the crowbar as soon as he kicked down the door, but seeing Jason now, shaking, and looking about ready to jump out the window if he could, it just looked… wrong. This wasn't Jason. Jason was a cocky, stupid, asshole. He wasn't a shaking mess. Something had to be terribly wrong for Jason to be this shaken up, and Tim would get to the bottom of it.

Tim took a deep breath, and mentally counted to ten before meeting Jason's awaiting gaze once more.

"Okay," Tim softened his tone empathetically, "what does Dick do when you call him?"

Jason's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but also with a bit of hope that only furthered Tim's resolve to fix this. "Dick would come with a metal poker, holy water, and salt. I would tell him where I saw the ghost, and he'd tell me to close my eyes while he took care of it."

Tim nodded, "Okay then, Jason. Where is she?"

"HERE!" a pale hand suddenly reached out from the darkness, and grasped onto Tim's forearm. Tim went to move, but was frozen still as a sliver of a pale face emerged from the dark with a smile that made the small hairs on the back of Tim's neck stand.

She was pale, almost translucent though her grip was firm, crushing almost as she threatened to pull him further in the dark. Her dark hair obscured most of her face, but enough was visible to discern that single soulless eye staring back at Tim.

Tim was frozen in place as if she had a hundred spindly fingers coiled around him. Never in his life had Tim ever felt this way, afraid that this was truly the end.

"Tim!" A hand clutched Tim's free arm, as he felt himself roughly yanked in some direction. The crowbar was dropped and forgotten. "Crazy bitch! Get away from us!"

'Jason? Jason, is that you?' Tim vaguely made out the frantic sounds of Jason's voice as he found himself no longer standing, but on his knees with only Jason's body for support.

"Jason."

"I'm here, buddy. Ain't nothing gonna get you now, okay? I'm here." A frantic list of epithets fell from Jason as he settled Tim into his circle of salt, and relined it with more just to make sure SHE couldn't get in.

"Jason… I'm sorry."

"Shh, it's okay." Tim felt arms pull him closer as he let himself be held by the last person he ever thought he would ever allow comfort him in such a way. "Don't you dare apologize to me now. We're gonna get through this; we're going to make it. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

"Jason…"

"I've got you, little wing."

A weary hand blindly reached out to the nightstand, knocking off a few miscellaneous things before it finally reached its target. The ringing stopped.

"…Hello?" The woman felt a shifting of the bed, as arms came to wrap around her waist and a warm breath came to tickle her shoulder.

"Barbra, who is it?" Came the groggy voice behind her.

Barbra groaned, and held the phone out over her shoulder, "It's for you." She said tersely, before lying back down to get some well-deserved sleep. "It's Jason."

"Jason?" He held up the phone to his ear, only to withdraw it a second later.

"DICK?!"

Jason leaned heavily back against the leg of his kitchen table. His muscles were sore all over again, but it was okay; they were okay. A comfortable silence had fallen between the two boys. Neither of them made a move to break it, but then again, Jason was used to breaking things.

"So you actually brought a crowbar?" Jason glanced over at Tim, amused.

Tim at the moment found his shoes very interesting as he mumbled back, "I told you I would."

Jason chuckled lightly, "That you did. Although, I have to wonder, did you always have a crowbar lying around for occasions like this or…?"

Tim laughed, "No, fortunately for you, I'm not that sadistic. It's just that, after the fifth year in a row of sending Bruce a crowbar for Christmas, we kind of have more than enough."

"He kept those?!"

Tim grinned, "Yes, he did. And by the way, you should really stop doing that. I'm afraid you're becoming predictable."

"Me?" Jason looked mockingly offended, "As the King of Cool would say, 'I live for myself, and answer to nobody'."

"If he says stuff like that, then I can see why you'd like him." It was Tim's turn to look at Jason amused as Jason smiled right back the way he should. Or at least, Tim thought Jason looked the way he should again. He didn't look so pale or shaken anymore. Maybe it was because Tim was pale and shaking enough for the both of them, or maybe it was Jason's natural instinct to be the strong one when Tim was around or generally just anyone scared as Tim was that finally kicked in. When Tim was in trouble, Jason pulled him to safety. He told him everything was going to be okay. He held him, comforted him, and protected him.

'And here he called me to protect him.' Tim thought ruefully, but being beside Jason now, seeing how much he had changed from the moment he first walked in to now, Tim would like to think he had protected Jason in his little own way. Maybe.

Nonetheless, thinking back on the recent events, recounting Jason's words, Tim had to disagree with him like he did most of the time. Jason was not a bad person. Annoying, yes, but not bad. He didn't deserve to be haunted like this. He might have made mistakes in the past, but Tim couldn't picture Jason doing something to warrant this.

How long had this been going on? How many ghosts did Jason hide from? Tim thickly swallowed, shaking the thought away. Dick would be coming soon. Yes, he always came. No matter who was in trouble, Dick was always there, and he'd save Jason. He'd save them both.

As if on cue: Bang! The front door was kicked in a second time that night with none other than Dick Grayson standing heroically over the threshold. He was equipped with an iron poker, water pistols filled will holy water, and salt pellets.

"Did someone call Ghostbusters?" Dick grinned while both Jason and Tim jumped up and yelled for Dick to help them.

"Well it's about fucking time. Some Boy Wonder you are." Jason looked livid.

"Where the hell have you been!" Tim looked more relieved than Jason, though he sounded just as angry.

"Jeez, don't thank me all at once." Dick grumbled, "Someone's a little salty." Although, Jason was normally this way when he called Dick, Dick was mentally prepared for it when it came. Tonight, not so much. Normally Dick would set up some hologram, something to fool Jason into thinking it was a ghost. He had been doing this to Jason ever since they were younger, when Jason occasionally annoyed the hell out of him. It was always just fun and games. Dick would make a huge show of it. He would battle the ghost, save Jason, and oh my gosh, Dick was everyone's hero.

Dick had not set up anything that night so this was an entirely new situation. Perhaps Jason had spoked himself, or was having a bad day. But then, why was Tim in the circle of salt with him?

"I see you have quite the friendship circle." Dick mused.

"Shut-up." Jason spat, "Now go get her. She's been quiet recently, but last we saw her, she was there." Jason pointed somewhere out in the darkness. Dick squinted to see what the hell Jason was talking about when suddenly both Jason and Tim were screaming again.

"Dick!"

"What?"

"Look out!"

Blue eyes widened in complete fear, "Holy shi—!"

"Damian?! We need your help!"

"Are you dying?" Came the annoyed reply.

"Yes!"

"It's about time." Damian abruptly hung up the phone before tossing it aside on the work bench.

"Who was that?"

"No one, Father." Damian stood up, and approached the bat computer where his father sat typing away.

"Have you seen Tim around?"

"Fortunately, I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"He was supposed to help me with a case tonight," Bruce paused his typing to swivel around and look levelly at Damian, "and Tim doesn't break promises easily."

After a moment or two of complete silence, of the two completely different heroes yet very similar in many ways assessing one another for any signs of weakness, Damian's resolve finally faltered. With an irritated huff, Damian crossed his arms and averted his gaze from the harsh glare of the various monitors.

He relented, "Jason called."

Silence, though this time it was thick. It was palpable to the point it made Damian uncomfortable, but the young boy didn't back down. Instead he spared a glance at his father, his features… incomprehensible.

At last, with what seemed like ages, Bruce rose from his seat with his cape billowing behind him. Goddamn Jason and his damn theatrics. Bruce was getting too old for this shi—

"Robin, suit up."

Damian grinned triumphantly. "Yes, Father."

After the two of them left, Damian's phone buzzed with a new text message. The screen lit up a small portion of the cave, reading: "Roy (I've seen faster guys) speedy: New and improved fear toxin works! The effects should be wearing off soon. Will have to show you the footage later. Meet you at the titan tower. ;)"

"Okay, got it!" Steph stuffed her phone in her pocket before pulling on a flannel and some work boots, and tossing a trench coat over to Cassandra.

"Come on, Cas, you can be my angel on this one." Cass only glanced up at Steph confused, but as usual, she followed Steph without a question, or at least she didn't ask any. She shrugged on the trench coat over her white button up, and ran after Steph.

"Alfred, Jason called; we'll be back."

"Very good, Mistress Stephanie. I will have milk and cookies for everyone when you return on your rescue mission. I wish you both luck." Alfred replied.

"Thanks, Alfred." Steph smiled back, "You're the best."

[The End]

A/N: Thanks for reading, if you've gotten down this far! The story was a gift for my friend, but I hope you were able to enjoy it nonetheless. I apologize if any of the characters seem OOC. I haven't read too many batfamily fics, nor do I see too much of them in the comics. Thanks again for reading, and take care!