The blade sticks out of Jason's chest, gleaming unnaturally in the moonlight.
"You were saying?" Cutter purrs.
Somehow, her voice reaches Tim even where he's pinned, sending a cold chill of dismay surging through his body. He would scream Jason's name if it weren't for the unyielding chokehold Dick has him in.
While Tim's gasping for air, Jason's attention doesn't appear to be on the weapon that may have just killed him. From the subtle way his body is straining toward Tim whose attempts to push Dick off of him grow weaker, he seems more preoccupied with Tim than his own predicament.
"Juh…"
His attempts to speak use up valuable air and Tim curses mentally as his vision blurs. He thinks a blood vessel may have burst in his eye.
"What was that, Timmy?" Batman sneers. "Sounds like something's caught in your throat."
Great. Even when he's gone dark side, he's got to make bad jokes.
Tim tries to keep calm, to control his limited airflow, and think of a way out of this situation. Every beat of his heart feels like it's jarring his body. And Jason, the poor idiot, keeps trying to inch toward Tim.
Jason, concentrate, she's about to kill you, or worse!
Tim is distantly cognizant that Damian is still struggling against the way Dick has dangled him, trying to escape. He can hear the shift of leather and Kevlar as Steph struggles to get up.
"I have to say, I was impressed," Cutter continues, spindly fingers digging into his shoulder as she twists the sword until Jason's attention on Tim falters. His snarl of pain echoes through the voice modulator but to Tim's relief, it doesn't sound wet in a way that would indicate internal bleeding. "Just thinking of all the discord you could cause if those blades of yours were just…a little…corrupted…"
She punctuates each pause with a twist of the blade, and how the hell is Jason not bleeding out right now?
Maybe it's my imagination…oxygen deprivation…come on, focus! She's got him with a golden sword—golden arrow? So probably not trying to kill him. And he's not poisoned with lead the way Dick was which…should be a good thing? Right?
Unless it requires a command to work like the arrow Cutter stabbed Dick with. Tim's having a hard time coming up with scenarios for the golden diviner, but he thinks that's more oxygen deprivation than lack of imagination.
Tim shifts beneath the anchor that is Batman, trying to worm his fingers toward the taser trigger in his suit. The way Dick is crowding against him, any charge that goes through him will hit Tim—and Damian—too, so he must be careful of the wattage. Not enough to parboil them all, but enough to allow him some give.
He hopes that because he's expecting it, he'll be able to withstand a second or two long enough to get free and get to Jason.
"Hey! Bat-dick!"
Looks like there's some luck on his side, at least, as Steph, still a bit off-balance, chucks a handful of senbon-like projectiles at him. At the same time, Damian bends upward and wraps himself around Dick's arm while jamming a knife into the part of his arm not protected by armor. "This one I am not apologizing for!"
"I think what you mean is, 'sorry not sorry!'" Steph follows up with a swipe of her fist.
Dick snarls, jerks to one side to avoid Steph's attack, while at the same time flinging the boy off and away from him. Steph grunts in pain as Robin lands on her.
The minute decrease in pressure gives Tim the space he needs to activate the taser. It throws Dick backward with a surge of electricity, which leaves Tim momentarily stunned and gasping against the same pulse.
There's movement beside Tim, Steph crawling over to his side. "You okay?"
"Been better," he replies, shaking off the dizziness as he gets to his feet.
"Aren't you two adorable," Dick growls, recovered now and stalking toward them. Tim tries to put himself in front of Steph, knowing that her injury will provide too tempting a target, but she snorts and stands beside him.
"Stubborn much?"
"Take a look in the mirror sometime."
"You two are wasting time," Damian growls and runs headlong at Dick, skidding low to take his feet out from beneath him.
Dick somersaults in the air to avoid him, lands on his feet in front of Steph, who's already winding up a punch. Dick lifts off with one foot, twists in the air, knocking the punch off course with his feet and smacking Tim in the face before he can get close. As Steph's body finishes the botched move, bending double, Dick continues to spin in midair, rolling over her back and flips a knife into his hand, grabs hold of Damian's cape to wrap around his head, and then plunges the knife downward to pin him to the ground by the material.
Then he's up and swiping at Tim with another blade, while Tim blocks and dodges out of the way of the wild blows. Seeing an opening, he bends forward and shoulders the older man, hard enough that he turns and faces Steph and her wild swing to the side of his head. Dick ducks, blocks, uses her momentum to flip her to the ground, stomps hard on her gut to leave her gasping, and turns around in time to bob from side to side to avoid Tim's next onslaught.
Tim leaves himself open, and Dick turns his back, elbowing him in the face from behind.
"You want to know why I fired you?" Dick sneers at Tim, gripping him close. "It wasn't because Damian needed Robin." He pulls Tim's arm over his shoulder and flips him over his back; without letting go, he unleashes a flurry of kicks to the small of his back. "It was because you were never meant to have the title."
As Tim lists, Dick kicks his heel into his chest.
"Right—because I'm going to listen to anything you say right now," Tim grunts, fumbling a moment before skidding back on his feet. He forcibly ignores the long-dormant doubts trying to surface in response to his brother's diatribe, flings out several small explosives as Dick renews his attack, dodging nimbly between the bursts.
"You've always been the weakest—better suited to being behind a computer than in the field." He throws a handful of Batarangs at Tim, who crosses his arms in front of his face to block them; two of them get embedded in his upper arm. "And you're still mediocre at that compared to someone like Oracle."
"Everyone's mediocre compared to Oracle."
"Keep telling yourself, if it makes you feel better about yourself. Not like you've got much else." Dick catches hold of him, presses the metal deeper through flesh and muscle, making cry out. "Bruce never wanted you. Not as Robin."
Tim falters a bit at that, if only because he knows that's true. He lived that himself.
It's enough of a pause for Dick to take advantage.
"Not as a son." More pressure, and Tim grits his teeth. "He adopted you out of pity. Because he wanted to protect his secret." Dick tugs one of the blades loose, turning it in his hand to set it beneath Tim's chin. "You'll never measure up to my legacy. Hell, you can't even live up to the Robin that died!"
"No!" Jason croaks, trying to take another step forward, but kept frozen in place.
"For one of the All-Caste's chosen, you appear oddly preoccupied with a mere mortal boy," Cutter muses. "And look what that's already cost you."
"Lady, you have no idea," Jason spits through gritted teeth.
"No need to fret, though. Such affection…it will soon be directed to me instead. That way, it won't even hurt when Batman crushes his throat." She stands on tiptoes, mouth near the side of Jason's helmet. "Now—devote your love to me. Be useful to me and serve my needs. Kill them all as a gift to me."
She pulls back and for an instant, it seems like the golden sword has duplicated—one is in her hand, the other still stuck in Jason's abdomen. But the latter vanishes, flickering out of existence the same as the dart that downed Dick.
Somehow, there's no blood spreading across Jason's abdomen, or even a hint of a gaping wound. He claws at his gut in surprise.
Meanwhile, as Dick goes to swipe the blade across Tim's throat, his arm is hauled back, and he is levered to the ground.
Damian stands in his place, cape gone and a furious flush in his cheeks.
"Back off," he orders. "I won't have Drake's death on your conscience, however useless he is."
"Thanks…" Tim wheezes as he tries to recover. "Really feeling the love."
"You're not fooling anyone with that act, little brother," Dick tells Damian with an unkind smile. "All your talk about emotions and weakness, and all your League training—and you're as soft as any other kid."
"I am not a child!"
"Whatever you are, you still bleed."
There's a burst of gunfire, causing everyone to duck reflexively, except for Dick. Whether out of reflex, or thanks to the thickness of his mask, he avoids the rounds that skim just past his cheek, leaving red welt of burned flesh in its wake.
"Funny," Jason growls, from behind clenched teeth it sounds like. "I was going to say the same about you."
Cutter watches him, wide mouth curling into a cold smile.
Dick shifts his body, accommodating for a possible new enemy. "Are you going to try to kill me now, Little Wing?"
Jason takes another step forward, raising mismatched guns, and takes a shot.
"No!" Steph cries even as Dick throws himself out of the path of the shot.
A second later, Tim notices the weapon Red Hood is leveling at Dick isn't one of his custom pistoles—it's one of the tranquilizer guns from the cave. In the same instant, Jason's whipped around and fired a volley at Cutter, who shrieks and dodges out of the way.
"What?" Cutter demands.
I'll second that…
"How…?"
"Alright, babybird?" Jason calls, edging back toward Tim, still firing on Cutter who persists in evading.
"How are you still…?"
"I'm just that good."
"That's impossible!" Cutter snarls, recovering. "The winged brat himself is powerless against the golden—! How did you—?" She takes note of Jason's protective stance in front of Tim, and her expression becomes sharp. "Unless…"
She doesn't finish her thought, instead shakes her head.
"No matter. If you won't serve me as the Bat does, you'll die beside your beloved!"
She charges and vaults through the air, bringing down her swords upon Jason's head—and just as before, out of nowhere, there's a burst of golden flame that solidifies into swords in Jason's hands, catching the diviners.
"Help Todd," Damian orders Tim. "Otherwise the moron will become distracted and get stabbed again."
"We've got this," Steph agrees.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, bat bitch, you sure?" Dick taunts.
Tim can almost hear Steph's knuckles crack as she forms a fist. "Oh, I'm so getting my second wind."
"Just remember he's not himself," Tim reminds her.
"No promises."
"I have alerted Pennyworth," Damian interjects in. "Presumably he will arrive before anyone dies."
"You hope," Tim mutters, already hurrying to Jason's side to take a position against Cutter. "Any chance you can lend me one of those magic swords?"
"Sorry, Red, they're sort of soul-coded."
"Of course they are," Tim sighs, bringing out his spare bo-staff and clicking the button to elongate it. "You're explaining that at some point."
"Help me take this broad down and it's a date."
"Stop flirting!" Steph shouts as she holds of Dick's incoming fists onehanded. She's using what Tim recognizes as several modified Wing Chun techniques. They're suited to taking down a normal thug, but right now it just barely allows her to hold her own against Batman. The only thing keeping him from targeting her injured arm is Damian, who has taken his sword back up and levies a savage assault on their older brother that Dick is forced to block.
Meanwhile, Jason and Tim dart toward Cutter, Jason in front and Tim flanking. Her blade arcs to meet him in an overhand swing, the force of it knocking Jason back even as Tim takes position behind her and strikes downward to her shoulder.
She spins and catches it with her other sword, stabbing forward with the first; Tim jerks back as Jason rallies and slices toward her; she catches that, sweeping down low to knock Tim odd his feet, and as she uncoils meets Jason's blade with sparks, the momentum of the blow throwing him to the ground.
"I'm getting tired of eating dirt," Jason mutters.
"There's got to be a way we can get an opening," Tim agrees, picking himself back up again.
Nearby, Dick grabs Steph, yanks and tosses her over his head, as Damian takes a running jump and launches himself forward. He aims a double kick, which Dick blocks with crossed arms that he uses to shove the boy backward. Damian flips in the air, lands in a lunge, sword still at the ready.
With Jason still on the ground, Tim has to defend when Cutter swings at him, ducking and whipping the staff at her. She twists out of the way in the air, regaining her hold on her swords which come down on Tim. He meets every blow, rapidly shifting his staff to catch the edges.
It works for a bit until one of her blades slices right through.
"Okay. Not just magic, also super sharp," he grunts. "Noted."
Mentally cursing, he adjusts his stance to fight with the remaining staff pieces, arcs them around and aims for her head.
Cutter gets out of the way of one of them, but the other hits her in the face. She falls to one knee, but it's not because she dazed so much as she is trying to pincushion him from below.
Tim jumps back as she lunges forward with an underhanded swing, but Jason is recovered, sliding over and catching them with one of his swords.
"That's it!" Cutter hisses. "Unleash your savage nature and stop me if you dare!"
"Oh, I dare," Jason growls. "You killed a kid, Carrie. The only thing you deserve is savage."
Cutter laughs. "It was a necessary sacrifice."
"I doubt Green Arrow would think that," Jason counters. "He's a bit of a douche, but even he wouldn't be impressed with a child killer."
Cutter growls at this, but her moves slow incrementally.
Tim narrows his eyes in calculation.
Why would that affect her? Not worried about killing a kid…but worried about the Green Arrow judging her? Actually, now that I think about it, she slowed down before when Jason mentioned Green Arrow.
Far behind him, Steph launches herself at Dick, aiming a kick at the small of his back; Damian, waiting in the wings, charges forward and launches into his older brother's chest. It's not enough to wind him, given the body armor, but does put him off balance.
Before he can take advantage of it, though, Dick flings a bolo outward. The cables wrap around Damian, knocking him off his feet.
Steph has her nightstick out, uses it to knock Dick straight across the jaw to send him sprawling as well.
"Stay down…bat bitch," she pants.
Jason is still running his mouth.
"I mean, it's one thing trying to off his lady friend, but a kid? That's one of those relationship dealbreakers, I'm thinking."
Cutter narrows her eyes, once again faltering.
Tim decides it's enough evidence to run with his theory.
"There will never be a chance for you two," he speaks up, injecting a taunting note into his voice. "No matter who much power you think you have."
"He won't have a choice!" Cutter snarls. Her eyes flicker, red to green and back. "I'll make him love me, in a way I never could before!"
"Will you really?" Jason asks. "Or is that just what your secret god friend told you you'd do? Because you've spent an awful lot of time everywhere else but tracking down the Green Arrow."
"Yeah, Star City's about 2500 miles that way. You could have been there a week ago, with the diviners, if you hadn't gotten sidetracked by—who's plan was it?"
"You…are beneath…her," Cutter replies through gritted teeth.
"'Her?'" Tim echoes. "Well, that's a help." He pretends to consider it. "Although, maybe that's it. Maybe she's not bringing you to make Green Arrow yours because she doesn't think you should be with him?"
"No!" Cutter yells, and her eyes are completely back to green now. The overwhelming sense of presence surrounding her fades and Tim knows that she's suddenly just Carrie Cutter again.
Jason knows too because he's ditched his magic swords and now brandishes a tranq gun, shooting her with it in the back.
Cutter goes rigid, and falls to the ground, only just catching herself on her elbows.
"That should have taken her down," Tim says, dismayed.
"Guess it wasn't enough to take down a god, huh?"
Behind them, Damian slices through the heavy cable holding him prisoner, as Steph readies her own tranquilizer gun to shoot at Dick.
Jason readies the gun to shoot again. "You're done, Carrie. This ends now."
Before he can shoot, though, her wrist lashes out to one side, and—shit, the black sword has reverted to its crossbow form!—trains her weapon on Tim.
"I guarantee I can shoot your boyfriend even if you pull that trigger," she hisses. "And I have a feeling capturing me isn't worth him hating you."
Jason freezes.
"Shoot her!" Tim snaps.
"I…"
Jason's hand shakes.
"No!" Steph yells from behind them, and its reflex to turn towards it.
Dick seizes hold of Steph's bo, twisting it out of her hands and jabs upward, intent to crush her throat with its edge.
Instantly, Damian is there, grabbing hold of the staff to slow it enough that she can move; in doing so, he ends up having to grapple hand to hand with Dick. Steph stumbles and gets a grip on the gun, hesitating a moment, before shooting.
At the exact moment that Dick gets hold of Damian and moves him into the path of the projectile, Jason gives a grunt and he's thrown to one side. When Tim turns back, it's to see Cutter streaking off into the surrounding woods, leaving her bike behind.
"Looks like that dose is a bit too much for the brat," Dick observes distantly.
"He's going into respiratory distress!" Steph yells. She's trying to get to the boy, but Dick is in her path.
Tim and Jason look at each other. They can't risk Cutter getting away—but they can't risk Damian dying. Even though Tim can't read his expression behind the helmet, he knows that they've made the decision together.
Instantly, Tim scrambles over to Damian, while Jason throws himself in Dick's path, his magic swords vanishing into the ether. "You don't want to hurt that kid, Dickhead! Why not try someone your own size?"
Dick growls, teeth gritted, and darts forward, using Steph as a stepping stone to get to Jason. He stomps down hard on her already injured side, in a way that grants him momentum
Before Jason can react, Dick's thighs are wrapped around his neck, twisting him around and using the force of it to throw him to the ground. If it weren't for the reinforced neck hear, Tim's sure Dick would have snapped his neck.
Can't think about that right now.
He feels for Damian's pulse and checks the other vitals, while Steph pulls a manual resuscitator from her utility pouch. Even as she fits it over his face and Tim keeps an eye out lest Dick somehow make it over to them, he knows Cutter's already vanished.
"Heart's stopping," he grunts, tense as he tries to calculate in his head how high the tranquilizer dose was and how it's interacting with Damian's body weight.
"Help me get through the body armor," Steph orders.
Tim doesn't have a cast saw on him, or any edged tool that could get through Damian's body armor, but he does have a modified laser he's used to open tricky safe doors before. If he holds it the right distance away, it can get through the armor without burning Damian's skin too badly beneath him.
As he cuts, he tries not to let his attention stray to where Jason, unable to free himself from Dick's hold, digs tear-gas bombs from his belt and smashes them in Dick's face. They don't cause lasting damage considering the thickness of the cowl, but the force is enough to make Dick let up and stagger back with surprise.
Jason crouches to regain his footing, swings a leg out, which Dick avoids, and then jumps up and kicks him in the face, which he doesn't.
Steph is already peeling the armor to the side before Tim's stopped cutting and slaps two portable defibrillator patches on Damian.
"Clear!" she barks, activating the charge.
There's a sizzling sound, and Damian's body bows upward.
Steph begins CPR, while Tim monitors their patient.
Two minutes pass, rife with grunts and curses from the fight behind them. Dick's voice echoes in the background.
"You've always been jealous."
"I'd blame getting whammied by Eros' arrows for the cliché, but you've always had the lame one-liners."
"That why you spent your childhood trying to be me?" he smirks.
"Someone's got an ego—but then, everyone already knew that."
"Still not responding," Tim says through gritted teeth.
"Going to try adrenaline," Steph says. She's got a syringe of epinephrine at the ready, and without ceremony, jams it into the part of Damian's thigh not covered by gear.
As she starts another round of CPR, Jason and Dick continue to trade punches in the background, until Dick somehow gets a hold of Jason and hoists him upward, then twists and throws him face-first onto the ground.
"Come on, Dami!" Steph grunts.
Tim checks his pulse again and frowns. "Still don't like this pulse."
"Plan B then." She's got another syringe now, this time amiodarone. "If you die on me, you little shit…"
Jason grabs a handful of dirt and chucks it in Dicks' face, putting him off-guard for a moment and allowing Jason the time to get to his feet. Then he's running, sliding down to take Dick out at the knees before leaping up with a knife.
"You think it's ego?" Dick asks, edging to one side to avoid it. "Let's look at the evidence then." He captures Jason's descending arm and twists. "You jumped into my costume—" He uses the leverage to put Jason on the ground, "—into my home—" Jason knocks his head backward into Dick's jaw, forcing him to let go, but only long enough for Jason to turn around before Dick grasps him by the throat, "—stole my father,"—He tightens his grip, "—my friends—" Jason is forced back and downward, "—my girlfriend."
Bracing himself, Jason slides his arms upward and out to break through Dicks' grip on him, follows up with a palm to his abdomen and staggers to his feet. He barely gives himself a pause before jumping and kicking Dick in the face with both feet, even as it propels him back to the ground.
It barely fazes Dick, who's already stalking back over to him.
"And on top of that, you got yourself killed and turned into a martyr that could do no wrong in everyone's memory. Even when you've fucked up, you get let off with everything."
Jason spits blood on the ground. "I've got stints in jail and Arkham that say different."
"And you should have stayed there," Dick growls.
Jason flips him off, but Dick is there again, grabbing him by the front.
"Monsters like you need to be locked up." He grasps Jason by the throat. "You're just as bad as every piece of shit you ever locked up. Just look at what's going on now." He tightens his grip. "All of this is happening so we can stop you from fucking our brother."
Tim's stomach churns at that.
Is that what he actually thinks?
"How messed up is that?" Dick mocks, putting himself right into Jason's face.
Jason snarls. "He's—not—my—brother!"
There's a violent flash, as the Red Hood suit panels explode at their highest frequency and send Dick flying several meters away.
He doesn't get up again.
In the same instant, there's a sudden flash of light from overhead as the Batplaneappears out of nowhere, and Damian shoots into a sitting position, gasping and cursing.
For a moment, nobody moves, trying to process everything that's just happened.
Beneath the lenses of his mask, his eyes are wild and he whips his head around, before croaking, "Where's Cutter? Don't tell me you lost her."
Tim snorts as he and Steph fall back from him.
"Typical," he mutters.
⁂
Once Alfred has Dick loaded into the Batplane—heavily sedated lest he wakes up mid-flight—Jason and the rest of the motley Bat crew stumble back to the Batmobile.
"Well, that sucked," Steph mutters.
"The last time we had our collective asses handed to us like that, the Joker tried to throw a dinner party," Jason agrees.
"Ugh, so glad I missed that one."
"Given the fact you are all in sub-optimal condition, I will be the one to drive us home," Damian announces.
"Nice try, demon baby, but I'm driving."
"Father would not be pleased with an outsider driving the Batmobile."
"He'll be less pleased if I let a twelve-year-old drive."
"I'm fourteen!"
"You just got resuscitated. We're not trusting your reflexes."
Damian grumbles mutinously.
"You're just lucky it was your left arm and not your right one Dick totaled," Tim tells her quietly.
"Lucky?" Damian sniffs. "I tol—"
"If you say 'I told you so', I swear to god, I will tranq you again," Jason growls.
"You will not," Tim interjects, "Not after all the trouble we went through to save his life. Which we're still waiting to hear a 'thank you' for, by the way."
"Why should I thank you for letting the perpetrator escape?"
""On the bright side, at least we didn't have to deal with Ivy on top of all that," Steph muses. When Jason and Damian shoot her identical unimpressed looks, she shrugs her uninjured side. "What?"
Batgirl and Robin climb into the car. As the doors close, Damian warns, "Try not to get us killed, Brown. I've seen you drive."
Jason rolls his eyes and follows Tim to the spot where they parked earlier. The younger man is being worryingly silent, but Jason has a feeling he knows what it's about.
How much I screwed up, probably.
The redbird tires kick up dirt with the force Tim uses to spin them around and toward the main road. Jason reflexively grips Tim's hand over the gear stick, not out of fear or apprehension, but just reassured at skin contact after their latest ordeal.
Tim apparently doesn't feel the same.
"Damn it, Jay, we're not reenacting the end of Thelma and Louise," Tim snaps with a little more bite than usual. "I need my hand to drive."
Jason immediately relinquishes his hold, ignores the spark of hurt and something else that leaps in his stomach as he forces himself to lean toward the passenger side door.
Tim notices and then softens. "Sorry. I wasn't trying to—"
"It's cool," Jason replies quickly, not wanting to seem like it actually bothered him. He pounces on the first thing he can think of to change the subject. "I can't believe you've seen Thelma and Louise but not Casablanca."
"What is your obsession with that movie?"
"It's a classic representation of a bygone era in cinematic history."
"And I'm supposed to be the nerd in the family…"
"The toys all over your room would confirm that."
"You mean figurines."
"I rest my case."
They side-eye each other, but Jason can see the way Tim's mouth is twitching like he's trying hard not to smile given the circumstances.
What I wouldn't give for him to actually smile at me.
The thought isn't as out of left field as earlier in the week; Jason supposes he's just acclimating to the weird stuff Eros' blood is making him say. Tim's pretty good about not taking any of it seriously at least.
"So, I have questions," Tim says after a while, eyes flicking back to the road.
"Starting with who or what the hell is wearing Carrie Cutter as a costume?"
"That—and what's the deal with those swords?"
"Eros did say they could change form into other weapons."
"Not talking about Cupid's swords," Tim grunts, in that same exasperated tone Bruce always uses when he knows Jason's being evasive. "You. Those blades you had came out of nowhere. So I'm guessing that's not part of Eros' infection. You've had access to them for a while."
"They're not exactly something I can whip out in the middle of any fight when things get dicey," Jason defends. "Only works against a certain kind of foe, which don't show up often enough for you bat-stalkers to get a good look at them." He pauses. "Actually, I don't think they even show up on cameras, so it might be that."
"Not answering the question, Jason."
"You're cute when you're mad."
Tim makes a choked sound and his cheeks and neck go red in what Jason expects is frustration, so he takes pity on him.
"It's a long story, okay? None of which I really want to repeat right now," he scowls. Not telling him they're powered by my soul, something tells me he'll take issue with that. "All you need to know is they only show up in the presence of true evil."
"True evil," Tim muses. "So, when they disappeared while you were fighting her…?"
"Carrie was back in the driver's seat. And crazy doesn't always mean evil, I guess. Never tested it before." He pauses to think for a minute. "I should really try them out on the Joker some time."
"Magic swords…" Tim shakes his head as they speed over the Kane Memorial Bridge. "Not my area." Then he frowns and shoots Jason a look. "Are they why it didn't work on you?"
"Huh?"
"Her sword. She stabbed you with the gold one, which I figure is analogous to the golden-tipped arrows. It's the same thing she did to Dick with the lead one. But you were immune."
"Thankfully. I don't know what that was, and I wasn't exactly expecting it."
"No shit," Tim says, and suddenly he sounds harsh again. "You weren't expecting anything because you turned around to check on me."
"You were in trouble."
"I had a plan! I always have a plan."
"Yeah, I saw your plan. It involved electrocuting yourself."
"To get Dick off of me."
"That's the worst plan ever."
"Better than you getting stabbed, Jason! If she'd used a normal sword on you instead of the diviners, you could have…" Tim trails off, shakes his head and glares at Jason. "I know you're not exactly firing on all cylinders lately, but that was a really stupid oversight."
Jason opens his mouth to retort, and then pauses as something occurs to him.
Tim's not angry with him, but at himself somehow. Like he thinks it's his fault.
How the hell did he end up coming to that conclusion?
"Hey, stop that," he orders. "You can't blame you for this. It's like blaming a girl for being attacked because of the clothes she's wearing."
"This isn't the same thing."
"Isn't it?"
Jason's hand gravitates back to Tim's, resting gently on top as he grips the gear-shift.
They sit in silence for a while, discomfort filling the small space. It's not until they make the turn-off toward the hidden entrance to the Cave that Tim speaks again, taking up their conversation from before.
"Whatever kept you immune is probably down to what Eros did to you."
"Maybe, maybe not. He's not immune himself, remember?"
"Right. She said that, didn't she? I could have to do with your super-secret swords."
"Still not the time to talk about that."
"Fine, fine…back to the fight. Clearly it's possible to hurt her when Carrie's in control instead of whoever's hitched a ride in her body. So how do we keep her in that state long enough to take her down?"
"Other than mentioning Green Arrow? That did something."
"We could ask Oliver to make a trip out here."
"Great idea. If she kills him, it's one less rich asshole in the world."
"Jason!"
"Kidding, kidding…"
Except not really, because Queen's a bag of dicks.
"Let's just…unpack everything. Her behavior, her mannerisms, things she said…"
"The crazy and the crazier…"
"What was that thing she mumbled when she stabbed Dick?" Tim wonders. "It sounded kind of familiar."
"It's from A Midsummer Night's Dream."
"What?"
"The play," Jason enunciates and when Tim still looks nonplussed, he adds, "by Shakespeare?"
The younger man shifts uncomfortably. "I sort of…zoned out of most of those classes." Jason shoots him a disgusted look and he raises his free hand in defense. "What? Half the time I was exhausted from patrol the night before, and the other half—" He makes an exasperated noise. "It was needlessly confusing. Language has evolved since then. Also, all the plots are ridiculous."
"I'll say it again. You're a heathen. I don't know why I like you."
"Because you're infected with the blood of the god of love?" Tim suggests, and though Jason knows he's trying for a joke, there's something tense in his words.
He feels like he needs to reassure him. "To be fair, you were my favorite before that."
"I was…what?"
"As much as it's possible to have a favorite pain in the ass," Jason continues thoughtfully. "And next to Cass, of course. Just because I'm pretty sure she's everyone's favorite."
"Of course…" Tim repeats faintly.
"But yeah, you're definitely less annoying than the rest of the brood. And you forgave me for almost killing you those times, which is pretty cool of you."
Silence meets his explanation, and he glances over to find Tim staring at him, mouth agape.
Way to sound like a kid with a crush, Todd. Great job.
"Hey, watch the road," Jason snaps, ears heating up.
Tim clears his throat and gives a minute shake of his head. There's another taut silence as they pull into the Cave garage and he puts the car in park.
Jason stays silent, letting Tim brood with his thinking face on; just watches him with what feels like a stupid look on his face until Tim shakes his head and they get out of the car.
"So a nameless mythical deity that possesses people and likes to quote Shakespeare?"
"I admit, it was kind of odd and out of the blue for her to say that," Jason agrees. "Maybe she was trying to be dramatic. I mean, she butchered the delivery anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, in the play, that part's about making someone fall in love, not overtly causing them to hate other people.
Tim is silent for a few moments, parsing Jason's explanation.
"Okay, so she was trying to be clever?" he suggests. "Or, whoever's wearing her is being clever."
"Maybe they have an appreciation for the Bard."
Tim ignores that. "It just seems so out of place with everything else that happened in the fight."
"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," Jason points out.
"And sometimes it's a stick of dynamite."
As they head to the stairs, they pause in front of the containment unit where Dick is lying unconscious, divested of cowl and tools. That's a preventative measure since there's no cure for the arrow that they know of, and no telling what he'll do upon waking.
Watching over him, arms crossed and a forbidding expression on his face, is Bruce.
Shit. Daddy's home.
When he hears them approach, the original Batman turns to face them, expression thunderous.
"This isn't going to be good," Tim murmurs under his breath, lips barely moving.
Jason snorts with laughter. "Well, damn, babybird, you made me miss my curfew."
Tim groans. "Not now, Jason."
Before they can do more than blink, Bruce is in front of Jason, fingers clenched in the material above his body armor, lifting him enough that Jason finds himself balancing on his toes.
"What the hell were you thinking?" Bruce demands.
"Bruce, stop it!" Tim yells, trying to put himself between them.
"Stephanie's injured! Dick is out of commission—Damian could have died—!"
"As if that's different from any other night," Damian mutters from across the way where he's beadily watching Alfred treat Steph's fracture.
She shushes him and elbows him with her good arm.
"This is exactly the kind of recklessness you wanted to prevent when you contacted me!" Bruce continues. "What was the point if you were just going to go out anyway?"
"Bruce, it wasn't Jason's idea," Tim insists, trying to put himself between the two of them. "It was mine."
Bruce pauses, somewhat caught off-guard. It gives Jason the opportunity to free himself and step back, arms crossed. "Way to shoot first and ask questions later, B."
"You were told to wait," Bruce growls at Tim.
"For what?" Tim argues with unexpected vigor. "A few more hours and you'd have been here, but what would it have changed?"
"Dick and Stephanie wouldn't be injured, for one."
"You don't know that," Jason interjects.
Tim nods in agreement. "Even you couldn't have accounted for Cutter actually being possessed by some god. It might even have been much worse if you had been there."
"Tim has a point," Steph pipes up. "She could have whammied Batman—well, she did whammy Batman, but not the broody Batman. Things might have been worse than a broken arm."
Bruce shoots Steph a look like he doesn't know whether to be more irritated by her speaking up, or by the implication that he would have been taken out in the same fashion as Dick.
"Basically, I kind of think we got off easy. In the long run," she concludes sagely. A beat later, she giggle-snorts. "'Got off'."
Damian wrinkles his nose in disgust. "I honestly can't tell if this is your base sense of humor or if Pennyworth put you on the good painkillers."
Impaired or not, Steph's clearly making enough sense to make Bruce think twice. He doesn't look like he likes that, either, and Jason can see by his face he's deciding on a different tack.
"You still should not have removed Jason from the premises. Red Hood is not cleared for fieldwork until this situation is resolved, and you put everyone in danger by allowing it."
"Excuse me? No one 'allows' me to do anything," Jason scoffs.
Bruce ignores him. "You couldn't have known what heightened adrenaline might do to this infection."
"It was a chance to get the diviners back, and I wasn't going to waste it."
"And now you've compromised any element of surprise that we had," Bruce points out. "Cupid and whatever entity is backing her now knows you're looking to get them back. This was incredibly short-sighted of you, Tim. I'm disappointed."
Tim's mouth thins, something flashing across his face that Jason doesn't quite catch, before he straightens his back and does his best to loom right back.
Jason swallows, feeling a little hotter beneath his gear.
That's hot. Why is that hot?
Bruce ignores it, continuing on.
"And it's not just Tim who should have known better. Damian, Alfred, you do know better."
"I am quite sure the man I raised isn't presuming to chastise me," Alfred replies calmly. "Just as I'm sure any and all attempts I may or may not have made to dissuade the young masters would have been as summarily ignored. Much in the same way similar attempts with their father have been rebuffed all these years."
Bruce clenches his jaw.
Score one for the Englishman.
"What good does knowing better do me if no one listens?" Damian mutters, clenching his fists.
"Just wait 'til you're taller, little man," Steph soothes.
"Shut up, Brown."
"And you did not see the state Master Jason was descending into," Alfred says, not as an excuse but as fact. "This was a judgment call made with the information we had at the time."
"Information based on Tim's analysis—Tim, who has been compromised about this from the beginning!"
Tim's cheeks flare red and there's something that looks almost like panic in his eyes. Jason doesn't know the reason for it, but he knows that he'll gladly fight the guy who put it there.
"Yeah, screw you, B," he snaps, putting himself directly in his face. "It's not like there's a manual for this sort of thing. "Tim's doing his best."
Bruce shakes his head, mind clearly made up.
"Jason should be quarantined again—" He ignores their noises of protest, "—Tim can stay close by to offset whatever symptoms manifest, but outside. It's safer that way if the infection progresses in such a way where he becomes dangerous."
"No!" Tim argues. "Right now, the best place for Jason is next to me—without a bulletproof glass wall between us. We've already seen that the more often we're separated, the more debilitating the symptoms become."
"That won't always work."
"But for now it does." Tim crosses his arms. "I'm staying with him."
"Then you're officially benched."
"If you think either of us going to sit back and wait for you to solve a case that involves us, you've taken one too many blows to the head," Jason snorts.
"Don't you see, Bruce? Working the case—it's helping Jason occupy himself. Otherwise, he's literally tearing his hair out."
Damian opens his mouth and Jason snaps a finger in his general direction. "Make one crack about my hairline, baby demon, and I swear I'll—"
"It's clear to me that Jason is not the only one compromised—Tim, you shouldn't be in the field either. I don't want to see you out there, is that clear?"
"You're not going to stop us."
"Tim."
It's one word, said with enough warning as to remind Tim exactly who he's talking to.
"Okay, fine, you probably could stop us, physically," Tim allows. "But we won't make it easy. And then we're both out of here and screw your help."
"Just listen to yourself! You're no longer sounding like you," Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. "That's enough to confirm everything I'm saying."
"I'm not sounding like me because I'm not just going along with everything you say?" Tim counters. "Newsflash, Bruce, you don't always know what's best. Jason's been saying it for years and everyone ignores him, but maybe he's on to something!"
"Tim!" Steph protests.
He throws up his hand in disgust. "You know what? Fine. We're benched. We won't go out in the field anymore. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up on this case, I can still investigate from a distance. And it sure as hell doesn't mean we have to stay down here with you!"
He turns on his heel and stalks off back down the stairs, his cape flaring behind him in such a Batman-reminiscent fashion that Jason would laugh if he weren't so stunned at what's just transpired.
He's not the only one having trouble processing, it seems.
Alfred sighs in a way that's supposed to sound like exasperation, but which everyone knows masks worry. Damian and Steph are actually open-mouthed. Bruce looks like he's trying to remain blank-faced, but there's calculation going on in those eyes.
Jason doesn't want to know what that calculation is coming up with.
Instead, he shakes his head and jabs his thumb in Tim's direction.
"I'm with him," he says, already walking away. "Because of the whole…you know. Infection. But also, you're an ass."
"Jason—"
"Let them go, Master Bruce," Alfred says. "I believe we all need to take a few moments…"
Damian says something, but honestly, Jason's no longer listening, too intent on going after Tim.
He's feeling something strange and buoyant, something that's edging dangerously close to validation.
It's a novelty because he's always the scapegoat, the family screw-up and cautionary tale. No one ever defends him—it's almost required that everyone have a caustic comment for him by now, and normally he takes it in stride, gives as good as he gets.
But Tim, of all people, is on his side this time and that's put a ridiculous smile on his face.
That smile vanishes when he gets down the stairs and he sees the way Tim's expression is twisted, not with righteous anger, but with guilt and doubt.
"He's right," Tim murmurs, pacing back and forth. "This isn't like me."
"Are you kidding?" Jason asks, trying for levity. "That was amazing."
"You're just saying that because I told off Bruce, and you're happy when anyone tells him off."
"Well, yeah. But also, how many people have the balls to stand up to the Big Bat? Present company excluded."
"He's just so…" Tim trails off, gesturing wildly to encompass his meaning, and then throws down his hands in annoyance. "You know what? There isn't even a word."
"Been saying that for years."
"Doesn't mean he's wrong. We should have waited. We didn't even get anything out of this." Tim runs his fingers through his hair, agitated. "Except for him getting pissed off at you. And you're the one who he's supposed to be helping."
Jason shrugs. He's too used to that sort of thing for it to be a surprise. He moves in closer to Tim, filled with the urge to protect him somehow.
"And I'm supposed to be helping, but I just made it worse."
"Bullshit. This whole situation is fucked up, it's not all on you."
"You wouldn't say that if you weren't hopped up on Olympian blood."
"Okay, then, how about I go take a swing at B? I'm always up for that."
Tim snorts. "I don't think one thing necessarily cancels out the other."
But he's smiling now, expression going clear and relaxed for a minute and for a second Jason sees the kid as he is when he's not pretending to be red robin or Tim drake Wayne or dutiful son or terrifyingly clever master planner that goes head to head with Ra's al Ghul.
And Jason can't help really help himself anymore.
Maybe it's the infection, or the lingering adrenaline from the fight with Cupid, or the argument with Bruce. Or just the way Tim, fresh off standing up for Jason against everyone else, is looking at him just then.
But before he can really think better of it, he's leaning in and covering Tim's mouth with his.
⁂⁂⁂
I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn't something you're comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!
❤️️ = I love this story!
😳 = this was hot!
💐 = thank you for sharing this
🍵 = tea spilled
🍬 = so sweet and fluffy!
🚔 = you're under arrest! the writing's too good!
😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER
😢 = you got me right in the feels
😫 = whyyyyyyy?!
Follow me on tumblr (violetsmoak) for news regarding updates-or just to drop me a line :)