AN: Okay, so here it is - chapter 14. It was supposed to go up yesterday, but I felt awful, so I slept instead of writing. I'm sorry...

Major thanks to my amazing reviewers - Chaseha-Wing, CHiKa-RoXy, and grayember13 - for reminding me that nothing (with the possible exception of college work) should take priority over writing. Also, apologies to my best mate, Amy, for the minimal amounts of Tim in this chapter.

That being said, I hope you enjoy it, and I'll just shut up now... ;)

Once More The Prodigal Son

Chloroform is not fun. It doesn't smell nice; it knocks you out; and it makes you feel all woozy and giddy when you wake up afterwards. It may be slightly pointless to be considering this at the moment, but the room's still all blurry, and it passes the time. Time… Funny thing, time is. Doesn't tick, though. Why does everyone say it ticks when it doesn't? My head hurts… Where's Dickie? Oh yeah… Left him on my jacket, under a bed…No, under my jacket, on a bed. Not my bed. His bed. What did I do that for? Fuck, chloroform is not fun…

What was that? I attempt to sit up, but that just makes my head spin, so I flop back with a groan. A slightly indistinct face floats into view.

"Awake, are we? Good. Now, what's this I hear about you running away from home, little birdie?" The voice is female, and I'm sure I've heard it somewhere before – I just can't quite place it at the moment…

"Whassit t'you?" Is it just me, or did that sound kinda slurred? Ugh. Chloroform. Wake up, Jason!

"Brucie and the boys are worried about you." Okay… If she's referring to 'Brucie' I should definitely know her…

"S'lina?" Still can't talk straight…Damnit.

"That's right, little birdie. I'm sorry about drugging you, but you wouldn't have agreed to come quietly." Damn straight I wouldn't. I can actually just about focus on her face now, which is a good sign. "Now, I'll ask again: why did you leave in such a hurry? It can't have been because of little old me, surely?"

"Not 'xactly. How'd you know about that, anyway?" Wow: an almost-intelligible sentence…

"I got a rather peculiar phone-call from Damian, of all people. Something about Dick refusing to acknowledge the need to sleep, and it all being 'Drake's stupid fault' for talking to you about me. I thought it merited some investigation."

"And then you decided to kidnap me?" She frowns slightly.

"No, then I called Tim. I decided to kidnap you after he gave me the full story." Oh, brother…

"You ever thought your life's been going too well? You know – like everything's about to go belly-up at any second, and you should get out while you still can?" Her frown deepens, and she rests a hand on my shoulder.

"Jason, if you go through life thinking like that, you'll throw away every chance of happiness you get."

"You think I don't know that? I'm trying, I really am, but I just feel so fucking paranoid about everything!" I run a hand through my hair, exasperated, and curl my knees up to my chest.

"Maybe you should try talking to Dick about it." Well, that I didn't expect.

"How's Dick supposed to understand? He's always so damned happy…" Selina sits down by my feet, and I realise I'm on her couch. At least, I assume it's hers…

"I think you'll find Dick understands far more than you give him credit for, Jason."

"Really? How so?"

"Trust me, that boy's dealt with a lot more than just what happened to his parents." She gives me a melancholic smile.

"Huh?" How is it that everyone knows more about Dick than I do? Oh, yeah, that's right – I died. Guess I missed something important…

"When you're the closest thing to a mother-figure someone has, they tend to talk to you when they're upset." Oh… I'm guessing that was what Tim meant earlier. Fuck, I feel like such a prick…

"Dickie?" He looks rough. I hesitantly pull him into my arms, and he clings to me as though he expects me to disappear the moment he lets go. Not that it's an entirely unjustified fear… "Are you okay?" Well, that was a stupid question, Jason – he's crying; of course he's not okay.

"I didn't think you'd come back…" He sounds relieved, if possibly borderline hysterical. I've really screwed up this time, haven't I?

"I'm sorry, Dickie." How do I make this better?

"Three weeks, Jason. Three weeks. Why?"

"…Because I'm an idiot?" That wasn't really supposed to be a question. Oh, well… Dick gives a sort of amused snort and tightens his grip on me.

"Next time you decide to be an idiot, warn me first, okay?" He really is wonderful…

"Yeah. If I ever do, I'll let you know. Meantime, you look shattered – c'mere." I sling him over my shoulder and deposit him on the bed, grinning. He sticks his tongue out at me as I flop down beside him. "There's one thing I don't get, though…" His face turns instantly serious.

"What?"

"Why didn't Bruce drag me back here?" I was expecting to end up in some kind of trouble for running away…

"I…kind of asked him not to. Figured you needed some space." I slip my index finger under his chin, gently coaxing him to look me in the eye.

"Thanks, Dickie." It doesn't really cover half of what I ought to say to him, so I pull him in for a soft kiss; then let him snuggle up to me when we break apart.

Dick's asleep when Tim comes in. Kid looks ridiculously pleased to see me: he's got a huge grin plastered across his face.

"Jason!" How he can convey that much excitement in a whisper, I will never know…

"Hey, Timmy. Sorry about earlier." Okay, so that probably sounded kind of daft, but I'm tired – having Dick sleeping half on top of me is bizarrely soporific, for some reason.

"Mind if I join you?" Actually, now that I think about it, Babybird looks like he's been losing sleep.

"Sure thing, little bro. Just don't wake Dickie." Tim nods once, and burrows under the covers on my other side, curling against my shoulder and catching one of Dick's hands in his own. I feel like a kitten, with all this sleeping in a pile. Still, it's reassuring, in a weird way. I close my eyes to the sound of Tim's soft snores.