Chapter 10

The airplane rumbled, jerking Tim so hard in his seat that his teeth rattled. He reached for the seatbelt across his chest, fumbling from sudden changes in altitude. He was thankful when the latch gave way with an easy click.

Without the seatbelt, his body was no longer secure, and the aircraft nearly tossed him around like a ragdoll. Overhead, red lights blinked in urgency. An automated androgenous voice repeated "warning, autopilot compromised" in a tone far to calm for the situation.

Tim didn't know how Jason managed it, but somehow, he was still leaning over the dash. The muscles of his arms flexed to keep him steady as he blew out air in heaving breaths. His green eyes were fixed on his hands, which were white knuckled around the edge of the dashboard. If Jason had any intention of fixing the mess he'd put them both in, he sure didn't show it.

Suddenly, another drop in altitude sent Tim's stomach near up to his throat. Deciding then that he'd have to right the plane himself, he lunged from his seat to where Jason stood.

"Don't touch me!" Jason tensed as Tim closed in. His body geared up for a fight.

"I'm not gonna touch you, asshole!" Tim shouted. His abdomen slammed into the dash with bruising impact as the plane made another lurch. How far had they fallen? How much altitude did they have left? "Just get out of my way!" He hated the way his voice came out in a desperate plea, a crack that betrayed just how scared he was.

Thankfully, reason seemed to reach Jason. The bigger man unclenched his fists and stepped away from the controls. In a second he was out of Tim's peripheral vision. Tim didn't look around to see where he went, nor did he care. At that moment, sheer survival instinct took over as he assessed the excess of switches and lights before him.

Tim had never been much of a pilot. Having Bioship as the team's primary transportation made him used to a quite literal "alien" way of flying. But something about the prospect of impending death cleared Tim's mind. He remembered the basic aviation training that Batman had sternly required so many years ago.

Tim's over-busy mind was always clearer when his life was at stake. Instead of a multitude of priorities and obligations crowding his thoughts, his mind zeroed in on one primary goal… staying alive.

Finally, after a tense number of seconds that felt slowed to snail speed, the plane stabilized. Tim's fingers clung to the final switch he'd turned, afraid that if he let go, the plane would start tumbling from the sky again. The "warning" alarm silenced and the flashing lights returned to their regular shade of LED white. Tim wasn't sure if it was from the near-death experience, or from the butterflies in his stomach from the altitude drop, but he fought the urge to vomit.

Tim's breath was more shaky than he cared to show, so he lingered at the dashboard while it steadied. But while his breathing slowly eased, he couldn't stop the building rage burned in his chest. If Jason wasn't already dead in the cargo bay from whatever the fuck he was going through, Tim was going to kill him. He turned, readying himself for a fight.

But he needn't have bothered. Whatever had sent Jason into a rage had passed. In fact, Jason was propped against the curved wall of the cargo bay with his legs were crossed with hands resting face up over his kneecaps. His chest rose and fell with each breath that whistled noisily through his nostrils. His eyelashes were shut, and dark lashes fluttered over the sharp edges of cheekbones. His lips mouthed the shapes of numbers, "- two, three, four… four, three, two, one," repeatedly as he breathed.

Of all the unpredictable things Tim thought Jason could do, meditating was the last of them.

Tim was still shaky, so he was somewhat thankful that the man's eyes were closed as he approached. He didn't interrupt him. Whatever that episode had been, Tim knew it was in his best interest that it didn't happen again. The image of Jason with his neon green eyes and face twisted in inhuman rage flashed through Tim's thoughts as he took a seat next to him. For a moment, the two sat in silence. Tim, unintentionally breathed in and out in synchronization with Jason's repetitive counting. Slowly, so slowly, his nerves calmed and the lingering tremor in his fingers dissipated.

Jason seemed to be coming around as well. His breathing became less rattled. The pinched crease between his eyebrows softened. Tim eyed him warily.

"What was that?" he finally asked, breaking their almost… companionable? silence.

Jason chuckled, but it lacked any real humor, "It's meditation Tim. Sensei taught me. You should try it sometime" His eyes fluttered open, thankfully back to their regular shade of grey. It struck Tim how human they now appeared compared to that disturbing green. Instead of a solid color, the irises were a gradient grey, a dark ring at the edge of the sclera, darker still where iris met pupil.

Tim had never been so thankful to see a pair of grey eyes in his life. But he was not ignorant to Jason's pitiful attempt at evasion. "You know what I meant," he replied, suddenly too exhausted to say it with any real force.

Jason sighed as he roughly rubbed his hands over his face, "You're not going to let this go are you?"

Tim decided not to grace that question with a response, resolving to just continue to eye Jason warily.

Seeing his resolve, Jason roughly rubbed his hand over face again before tilting his head back. It tapped against the wall with a solid thunk. "It doesn't happen that often anymore. So no need to get your panties in a twist."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Yeah well," Jason groaned as he stood up, his knees popping in a way they hadn't seven years ago. Tim marveled at him, how in that moment, the man had seemed to been aged a hundred years. "Better get used to it, Timbers. Because it's not any of your business."

"That's bullshit," Tim snarled, standing up as well. "Your little rage fest nearly got us killed." Without thinking Tim's hand snatched the wrist of the older man.

Both were silent as they looked down. Jason's wrist was caught in a steely grip between Tim's fingers. Fortunately, Tim's hand was once again steady as normal, not betraying the fear he'd felt only moments early. But unfortunately, that now meant that his grip came off as threatening. Jason opened his mouth as if to give warning, but Tim let him go before he had the chance. Jason snatched his wrist back to his chest, while Tim's fell limply to his side.

The two did not speak as they took their respective seats. And Tim did not sleep this time. He didn't know if he could trust Jason's word that he wouldn't fly into a rage again. So he still kept his eye on the hooded man. Jason, in the meantime, decidedly ignored him. He seemed to know that Tim had more burning questions but wouldn't even turn his head, lest he invite an inquisition.

In the meantime, Tim's mind raced. He'd been so convinced that Jason was a clone. The timeline tracked with Roy Harper's kidnapping and using clones for moles was The Light's general M.O.. So logically it made the most sense but… another theory was starting to take hold. One that, if true, was too horrific to voice aloud.

"Your eyes are gonna get stuck like that if you keep it up," Jason finally spoke, referring to Tim who'd been staring at him out of the corner of his eye for the remainder of their trip.

Tim scoffed despite himself, "That's an old wives' tale." Still, his eyes shifted back to the front window. Frustratingly, they did ache a little bit.

In their final descent, Jason had taken hold of the manual controls once more. Expertly, he navigated the control stick and signaled their impeding landing to whomever was on Ra's al Ghuls paygrade on the other end of the comms. Jason's voice was clipped as he barked out orders, his irritation clear in his tone.

In the three and half flight, neither could have gotten more than fifteen minutes of sleep. Which was a pity because Tim was sorely sleep deprived, and he was sure Jason was too. That… was not ideal and would surely lead to some unnecessary bickering on their mission.

When Tim had been the leader of his old team, he'd truly grown into his role. What was once a daunting task thrust upon him by Nightwing in his earlier vigilante years, suddenly became second nature. He led his team not only efficiently but with precision. He knew just the right amount of leeway to give his crew to let them do what they did best, which was improvise. He also knew when to reign things in, to take control when the mission got out of hand and unity of thought was more beneficial.

He was rewarded for this leadership style with an amazing team. Spoiler, Arrowette, and Orphan. All of them had their assets and Tim could easily map out the trajectory of their missions before even starting. With Jason though… Jason was a wildcard. Tim didn't know this man. His style, his strategies. And with that lack of knowledge left variables.

And there was nothing Tim hated more in a mission than variables. Because that's what got people killed.

Bickering certainly would not help. So, Tim resolved that as much as Jason got on his nerves, he'd cooperate. He knew it was easier said than done, but when his life literally depended on it, he knew when to put his pride aside. He just didn't know if the same could be said for his counterpart.

"We're descending," Jason mumbled, addressing him for the first time since his little ordeal.

"I gathered," Tim huffed, shaking his head at the obvious attempt to restart the conversation.

Jason's eyebrows quirked up, "Just making sure you're not asleep over there."

Tim crossed his arms over his chest and brought his knees up, more due to the draft than anything else. "Who's sleep? Don't know her…" he mumbled as he tried to gather some heat into his abdomen.

Jason surprised him when he chuckled, "Well that's always been true." He glanced over at Tim, before focusing on the descent once again, "It's about to be hot as balls outside. So, you might as well enjoy the cold while you have it."

"Thought April was a nice time for the Caribbean islands?"

"Usually is," Jason shrugged, "But Santa Prisca has its own hellish climate. Probably why it was always avoided until modern corps started messing with it."

Tim tilted his head, resting it on his hand that was propped on his tucked knee. "You sound like you've been there."

"A handful of times," was all Jason answered. His head jutted up, "Look over there, that's our stop."

Tim followed his gaze. To an untrained eye, it would look like they were landing in the open ocean. And Tim would be lying if he said that thought hadn't crossed his mind first. But upon closer inspection, he noticed that the water was just slightly a lighter shade of blue.

"A reef?" Tim asked as he pushed up in his chair to get a better look. Sure enough, a small speed boat bounced atop the surface with the waves in a clearly shallower part of the ocean.

Jason nodded, "Was probably an island or a sand bar some hundreds of years ago. But with erosion it submerged and now it has a whole new ecosystem," he paused, as if suddenly embarrassed. "Well, it's not like I need to explain erosion to you." His implication was clear. For as gifted as Jason had been during his time as Robin, their teammates always did joke that Tim was the smarter one.

"Eh, geology was never a strong suit."

Tim didn't know why he'd said that. Tim knew plenty of geology and it didn't strike him that he'd care about Jason's fragile ego. But sure enough it was almost as if young Tim Drake had leapt from his subconscious to come to the older boy's defense. An old habit that sure seemed to die hard. Because for all of their arguing and complicated feelings, Tim always had been Jason's greatest defender when they were young.

Jason merely grunted, ignoring Tim's clear attempt at false modesty. "Sit tight, might get bumpy," he said.

Sure enough, landing on the ocean was more nerve wracking than take off. Tim suddenly felt he owed Bioship a big thank you when she returned from Mars for how effortless she made getting around for the team. His teeth rattled as they approached the water. The plane jostled from the force of wind over the shallow ocean. Then, with a jarring thud from the sudden resistance, they landed. Water sprayed from the floats as they glided over the water.

From its short distance, the speed boat started its approach.

"We'll trade vehicles here," said Jason as he unbuckled his safety belt and walked to the back of the plane for supplies. He grabbed two backpacks before making his way back to the front of the plane, his gait bouncing from the waves underneath them. "The boat will take us as close as we can to Santa Prisca. Then from there we'll dive." He tossed one of the packs to Tim, who caught it on instinct. "Hope you're ready for a swim."

Tim figured as much. It wasn't like they could fly a plane straight into Santa Prisca for a covert mission without alerting them of their arrival. He was suddenly very thankful that he'd brought his waterproof suit with him. It was the same design as his normal one, so it looked no different to the average onlooker. But damn did it do wonders for avoiding a post swim crotch itch on a mission.

Donning his domino mask, Tim nodded to the three hooded figures, "They going to be cool about this?"

"That I'm flying with a Robin?" A cheeky grin disappeared behind a red mask as Jason donned his own disguise, lifting his hoodie to complete the look. "Talia pays them well for their discretion."

It was a good enough answer for Tim. His likelihood of pulling his little secret mission was already at best tenuous and at worst impossible. Whether word from his little excursion got out via some loose lipped thugs or the Bat's extensive global surveillance access, it didn't matter. He was fucked when he got home either way.

Jason opened the seaplane's doors and the hefty waft of the salty ocean greeted Tim. It was well into mid-morning but thankfully sunny, so the world was bathed in blues and orange. Outside, the cloaked henchmen dipped their heads in respect.

"The boats ready for you, sir," a feminine voice spoke from behind a black mask.

Jason hopped from the seaplane, jostling the plane's weight over the water, and forcing Tim to grab hold of the doorway. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, but Jason ignored him.

"And the fuel?"

"Just refilled it. You've got enough for Prisca and back, with a little extra in case of… complications."

"Very good. Well," Jason's mask turned in Tim's direction, "you ready sidekick?"

Discretion my ass. Tim thought to himself darkly, not unaware of the mean titters of laughter from the cloaked individuals. He just knew that underneath that red mask Jason was smirking at him.

Tim took a deep breath, having to remind himself of his earlier resolve not to rise to Jason's clear baiting. And in fact, Jason seemed a little disappointed when Tim ignored the slight and jumped into the speed boat. Though the red mask was expressionless, Tim was aware of how it lingered on him as he surveyed their transport.

Not after long, Jason and Tim reversed the boat away from the seaplane and in the general direction of Santa Prisca. Jason stood as he drove, the steering the wheel at his waist turning in miniscule movements as he navigated the ocean waves. The wind and the ocean were so loud that they couldn't have a conversation if they even tried. So, Tim just decided to enjoy the moments peace a the wind whipped through his hair.

The wind also forced Jason's hood down, so all Tim could see was the shock of cropped black hair. The royal red and gold trim of his tunic slapped against his thighs as they drove with a loud flap. Tim was thankful that he was sitting on top of his tucked cape so that he did not have to deal with the same annoyance.

Deciding he needed to divert his attention onto more pressing matters, Tim pulled up his nav system. They were coming in from the north and would likely anchor the boat a fair distance from the northern peninsula of the island. The terrain was treacherous there, and notoriously swamped with volcanic fog. Any misstep was a likely last. Of course, there'd be surveillance, but it was notably light in the area. Dispensable as guards were made to seem, apparently at some point the League had decided they'd lost enough able bodies to Mother Nature and dialed back their patrols.

Sure enough, as the island approached from the distance, Tim's nose began to twitch from the acerbic smell of sulfur dioxide. From the perspective of the boat, with the faint blue of the sky and the ocean, the fog created the illusion of a floating island. The peaks of Santa Prisca jutted out jarringly from the fluffy clouds.

Jason slowed as they reached the precipice of the fog. It'd be fatal if they crashed into unexpected rocks and Tim appreciated the other man's caution. His fingers tapped up and down against his knee in anticipation. He always did feel this way at the beginning of a mission. Excitement with the fleeting sense of terror. A true adrenaline addict.

Finally, the boat stopped just inside the fog's cover. Jason turned off the ignition while Tim hefted a rusted anchor over the side of the boat. The rope ran loosely through his hands as he kept track length it took to reach the shore floor. Eventually the rope stopped at about 20 meters. They were lucky. With the terrain the way it was, they were just as likely to have settled over a drop off as they were the shore. Tim made a mental not to check it on their way in.

Methodically Tim gathered his supplies, making sure he had everything he needed for a sea to land based mission.

"Taking your time there, Boy Wonder?" Jason snarked his arms crossed over his chest as he sat over the back of the low boat seat. His waterproof pack already strapped to his back.

Tim just rolled his eyes as he slung his own bag over his shoulder. Jason was reaching now, attempting to bait him with titles meant for his earliest predecessor. It wouldn't work. Tim's mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles, "Ready when you are… Little Wing."

And oh, what Tim would have given to see to look on Jason Todd's face at the revival of his most infamous and reviled nickname, dubbed by none other than Dick Grayson. But sadly, the red mask robbed him of that chance. It didn't stop Tim from imagining it though, a slack jaw and eyes wide in horror...and that was funny enough. Tim cackled as he leaned back over the edge of the boat and fell over into the warm embrace of the Pacific water.