Uncomfortable was, well… one word for this. This wasn't really how Dick had imagined a reunion, but… had things ever been normal for them?

"Jesus, Hood, you almost got me with that last shot." More than snappish the words came out half-winded, a comment more than anything.

"Oh please, you're just whining." Jason seemed to be in a good mood, at least. Dick half suspected it was because Nightwing responded to a distress call and not Batman. They'd never been that close (partially because of the whole BRuce-replaced me thing) but they'd never been enemies either, which apparently was good enough for Jason. "I'm too good a shot."

"Well, at least that looks like it was the last one," Dick murmured. "You really are, though... A good shot I mean. Besides the bullet in his ankle, he'll be just fine." Said criminal, the only one actually still awake, moaned seemingly on cue.

"Of course." The eye roll that followed the words was obvious, even with the red hood masking all features. "The old man would have a hissy fit otherwise."

Dick frowned, his good mirth disappearing as he opened his mouth to reply. However, he never got the chance.

BANG

From the blackness came a gasp of stale air. "Oh shit-" Dick coughed, eyes still squeezed shut as he tried to stand.

"Calm down, sleeping beauty. You're going to hurt yourself even more," a voice chuckled humorlessly from the corner.

"Jason?" he questioned as he shifted, and then hissed as the stabbing pain in his side suddenly flared to life. His teeth clenched and he glanced down. Peeling his stuck hand (which apparently he'd used to apply pressure before passing out) away from his blood-soaked side, he took a shaky breath.

"Don't remember last night, huh?" Dick shook his head. Jason sighed and his frown looked even deeper in the dim light. Jason had taken off the hood, only wearing the domino mask. With smeared blood across his pale features as well as dark circles underneath his eyes he looked like death incarnate, but he seemed more or less unscathed with no visible wounds. "Well, you did hit your head pretty damn hard."

"What happened? Where are we?"

"Ambushed, from what I remember. Put a bullet in you and tranqed me. And we're in some type of capsule, feels like steel. And underground, I think. Smells like it." Jason swallowed, eyes looking up. " No way to know how far deep we are. Not that we could dig ourselves out when you're-"

"I'm fine," Dick snapped before he could stop himself. He then took a deep breath. "...We're both fine and we'll stay that way. We just… we just got to keep calm and wait for Bruce or someone else to find us."

Something in Jason's eyes flashed, wild and furious. "Who says they will ever find us? Much less in time before all our air runs out. Face it, Dickiebird," the name was said almost mockingly. "...our chances aren't very good."

"-I went to Blüdhaven for a while. It was… well, it wasn't Gotham, that's for sure. But I liked it, and I did well. But it didn't work out." He sighed, his breaths coming out dangerously shallow.

"Nothin' ever does, not for us." Jason eyed the unlit cigarette in his hands, turning it over and over in between his index and middle finger. Silence settled like a blanket.

"Jason…" He took a deep breath. "Just… just in case, I just want you to know, I'm sorry."

"About what." It was not a question, it was a statement. Somehow, Dick had a feeling Jason already knew what he was going to say.

"About… About you dying." His throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, and swallowing was far too difficult. "I should've been there-"

"Stop." That steely tone that Dick was truly becoming used to returned. It was strange. Jason had never been this serious... at least not before. "I don't blame you. So don't blame yourself. And don't give me your 'just in case' bullshit. We're going to live. Somehow."

Dick wanted to argue, but god he was tired. In his inhabited state, a question he'd never dare to ask normally just... slipped out, before he could even think of stopping it.

"Does this remind you of then?" Expecting a snapped reply, anger definitely, he tensed. But it never came.

"Yeah," Jason said simply, quietly. "It does."

"How much time you think we have left?" Left before the air runs out. Before we die. How many times had he faced this, the idea of his own death? Every time he'd spit in its face, said no, I'm going to live, and did. Every time he'd found a way to survive and didn't think twice about it afterward, at least not during waking hours. But now, despite it being the least eventful near-death experience- in the moment it felt so much more real. Concrete.

Maybe it was because all he could do was wait, wait and feel the oxygen get thinner and thinner, sticking in his lungs and throat like maple syrup, knowing there was nothing he could do but wait. Maybe it felt different because this time he wasn't alone. Jason…. He'd die too. Again.

"Hour. Maybe less," Jason groaned.

"If I even last that long." The words are out before he can stop him and Jason's eyes are wide and on him and for a moment Dick just laughs despite himself. It's been occurring to Dick the entire time but not him.

"What?"

"I'm still bleeding, Jay," Dick says, his tone taking a hint of bittersweet panic, and though he hadn't thought it possible Jason turned even a paler shade of milky white. "I've been bleeding this entire time. Slow, but it isn't good. I've been feeling myself getting more tired. Jay, I don't know how much more I can lose."

"Stop-" Jason stood, head bowed under the low ceiling, walking over.

"Look, two people is already stretching it," Dick pressed, coughing slightly as he shifted. "Maybe I can make one hour two hours, hell, a half hour more would buy you some time-"

"You're not going to die, Dick." He kneeled, face just inches from Dick's. "And you especially aren't going to fucking kill yourself. Not for… me , or… or anyone. You don't get a choice. Got it?" They stared each other down for a solid moment before Dick finally nodded, relenting.

"Good." Jason nodded. "We have to stop the bleeding then."

"How?" Dick motioned to his side with his bloody hands. "Pressure isn't working."

"You're not going to like it." Jason grimaced. "Especially because it uses oxygen. But that's not why." At the sight of a lighter, Dick swallowed, and then closed his eyes.

"Get it over with."

"I feel better and worse at the same time," Dick groaned, the metal of the capsule cool against his feverish forehead. He had no idea how long it'd been since Jason had stopped the bleeding, but the lack of air was making him dizzy, and he was afraid if he lifted his head from the wall he'd vomit.

"Stop whining, you're fine," Jason forced out, but it didn't have the same bite as before. It was soft...concerned. It was alarming.

"I...Dick, there's something I have to tell you." It was the second time he'd called him by his actual name and not some stupid nickname and it was then that he knew it was serious. It had to be, with such pain in his voice.

"I-" But he was interrupted by a sudden clanging. Surprise flashed across his features, and they both flinched when a section of metal was loudly (and jarringly, really) pulled away. Harsh sunlight and real, fresh air filled the small space. A moment later, Bruce's relieved face (it was obvious even with the cowl) appeared.

"Thank god," Bruce sighed tiredly.

"Thank god," Dick agreed, eyes flickering to Jason as Bruce left to get Robin and the Batmobile. His head was between his knees, and he was breathing the new found oxygen deeply and slowly. Dick pretended not to notice his shaking hands.

"We're going to be okay," Dick told him tiredly, smiling softly.

"I know," Jason tt'ed with false confidence as he stood and walked to Dick, hands moving to support his weight after helping him up. When Dick frowned, he just raised a brow. " Don't pretend you can stand by yourself." Dick gasped a bit at the pain as he was forced upward, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Now let's get out of here."

Hey, you want to send me a prompt? Just hit me up on tumblr! My url is flyingcircusnightwing