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He's dead and Jason- he's hap- he wanted him de- Jason killed him like he planned.
The rain was deafening.
The only light was when the lightning flashed through the window.
His armor and clothing was cold and sopping wet, clinging to his body. He shivered as he lay on the floor trying to measure each breath.
In for four, hold for four, let out for four, repeat.
He always talked about doing it, he was never sure if he had the follow through to… well.
The rain from the open window he crawled through soaked into the carpet below. He didn't have the strength to get up and close it.
Not like it would stop him. He would still get in. He would always get in.
What Jason had done was beyond forgivable.
Any sort of positive progress made is gone now. Gone like the blood on the concrete would be once his body was moved, gone like his own childhood innocence, gone like dust in the wind.
Jason lay at the precipice of the worst panic attack ever. He should be trying to run, preparing to disappear forever or get ready to make a few more choices he realized he wasn't prepared to make. He thought he had been once, and maybe that had been true. A lot had changed between then and now.
He felt like he should sob, or that he should be elated. He'd done it. He'd really done it.
Why didn't he feel any better?
He'd never felt this empty- this dead. And he'd been dead.
Jason felt he could float into oblivion and he wouldn't be the wiser. Some second rate assassin could come in and kill him and he wouldn't even try to defend himself.
Had he wanted this to happen?
No? Yes? Maybe? Realistically leaning towards no?
Probably the last one.
Jason was never one to turn down a golden opportunity. Maybe this had been on instinct. That small part of him that wanted this was able to spot the perfect moment and take advantage.
He needed to shut the window. He needed to get up. He needed to prepare his next move. He needed to figure out how to curl into an even tighter ball and shrink into nothingness.
There would be a reaction. One that Jason needed to be ready for.
Whether or not this was the right choice, it'd been made. He can't back out now. He'd put his cards on the table. Jason was also never one to walk away from a challenge.
This was going to be the challenge of a lifetime.
He sat up and shut the window.
It's pointless to leave Gotham. It's not like Batman won't find him. Confidence is the most important part. He needs to plan his next move.
Really he needed to match what he did next. This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
Given what he knows about Bruce the next move Batman makes will be emotional. He can use that. Emotion isn't part of this.
He wanted this.
He did.
He couldn't be happier.
Jason goes to clean out the safe house of anything that can be used to locate him. They may be able to find him but he won't make it easy. He's honestly surprised they're not all over him now.
Maybe they're all too shocked at what he did to go after him. He's still shocked he did it.
He did it.
He- he's not… He kil- he can't afford to think about it yet.
Jason knows there's no tracers on him; they won't track him that way. He'll head to his base of operations.
Sure the Bats know where it is but it'll be harder to just come after him if he's there. It should delay them long enough for him to develop a strategy.
Mental checklist to make sure he has everything.
Knives, check
Detonators, check
Grenades and miscellaneous bombs, check
Radio, check
Side Arm, ch-
The nausea is sudden. He over the sink, unleashing every single thing he's ever eaten before he realizes what he's doing.
He shot him. Jason shot him with that gun. He is dead because Jason shot him. It's Jason't fault. Jason killed him.
Then the feeling passes. Gone as quickly as it came. Gone like everything else. Gone forever.
Jason climbs out onto the firescape back into the freezing winter rain and jumps. He fires his line balancing on the edge then runs. Bounds across the rooftops, leaps with grace instilled by countless teachers, experience shown in every line of him. He knows these roofs better than the bat himself.
There are no slips. Not with him. He doesn't do slip ups, mistakes, any of that. Each choice he makes is carefully planned and calculated. Never spur of the moment, never a snap decision, never a feeling.
He wanted to shoot him, he wanted him dead. So he killed him. He won't get in Jason's way anymore. He's gone.
Jason trips.
It sends him flying to the next building, a couple stories shorter than the one he'd been on.
He lies in that position for a while.
Maybe the rain will wash him away too, like the blood from the concrete would be once his body was moved. Jason hadn't stuck around to see when he'd been moved or who moved him. It didn't matter.
He's dead and Jason- he's hap- he wanted him de- Jason killed him like he planned.
Get up and move!
Jason can't. The rain's pattern against his helmet is soothing. He likes it. It helps calm the buzzing in his head and the green in his vision.
He doesn't know how long he lays there. It's cold but he feels hot, sweating like in summer heat. His helmet feels too small. Like he can't breathe.
He presses the release to remove it and feel the rain hit his face.
His breaths are deep and even. He's counting them. In for four, hold for four, let out for four, repeat.
Jason thinks he can hear footsteps, but he knows it doesn't matter. What he's done is unforgivable and everyone knows it. So instead of running he stands. This needs to look planned. Because it was, this is what he wanted.
The footsteps stop several paces behind him.
Jason can't turn around.
"Just do what you're going to do and get it over with." Jason grits out.
They stay silent. They don't move. They just stand, waiting.
"C'mon, I don't have all night." Jason snaps after a moment, he's not gonna move either.
"You didn't kill him Jason." Robin tells him
Jason feels all his breath leave him, the strength sapped out of him causing his knees to buckle. His hands clenched into fits on the rooftop.
He's not dead, he's fine. Jason didn't kill him.
He can't stop the hot tears that pour down his face or the sob that tears through him. "I- I didn't want to do it."
Robin cautiously approaches in front of him, slowly kneeling down about a foot and a half away. "I know."
He doesn't question Jason's actions.
He should. He should be furious. Not attempt to comfort him.
"What are you doing here pretender?" Jason finally looks him in the eye. "I still shot him."
Tim is on his knees, the emotion on his face isn't something Jason recognizes, but he can tell Tim does not see him as any sort of threat. There's no obvious weapon that he can pull at a moment's notice. He's not in a position that will allow him to spring into attack mode. He's just kneeling in front of Jason providing solace.
"You did." Tim seems to settle on. "And I could ask why, but I think I know and don't think you can actually give me an answer. You don't want him dead."
He says it with such conviction Jason almost can't help but believe him. Almost. "Then why did I shoot him if I didn't want him dead?"
"You were scared." Tim answers as if it's the simplest thing in the world. "You don't think you deserve forgiveness and the idea that Dick would forgive you so freely when you can't forgive yourself let alone anyone else, I think it scares you."
Jason looks down at his palms.
Dick's always been that way. Jason doesn't deserve Dick's forgiveness. Jason hasn't even forgiven Dick of anything.
"B won't come after you." Tim adds as he stands back up.
His brain stalls. "What?"
"He won't come after you."
"Why? 'Cause you asked him not to?"
"Because Dick did."
Tim shoots a line and vanishes into the rain.
Despite everything Dick still cares because of course he does. Jason doesn't think Dick can help himself quite honestly.
Dick shows up wanting to talk to Jason, Jason shoots him, and instead of being mad and wanting revenge he wants to move past it and let it be.
Because no matter what Jason does Dick loves him. And maybe Jason loves him too.
So when he finds Dick in Blüdhaven a few weeks later there's a lot Jason wants to say, he knows there's a lot he should say. He knows that Dick knows he's there. Dick isn't making any sort of move to spook Jason.
Jason steps just close enough to ensure Dick can hear him.
"Sorry." Jason tells him, letting his tone betray him for a moment. Letting it speak all the words that Jason can't.
He doesn't know what Dick's response is. But he's known Jason long enough that he can read between the lines better than most.
They're brothers, they always will be.
I couldn't help myself. Everyone needs some good angst in their life. I'll have something more lighthearted tomorrow