"Holy crap, you're okay!" Roy yelled, his shoulder wound and bleeding face forgotten for the second.

Jason said nothing. Roy studied him, and didn't like what he saw. Jason was standing extremely still, his shoulders somewhat hunched. He seemed to be staring down at his shoes, but his eyes were unfocused, dead. The sword was held loosely in his right hand. Roy also noticed dried blood in a trail down the side of Jason's face, starting at his ears.

Roy swallowed tensely. "Jaybird?" he asked.

Jason looked up at the other man, his posture less hunched. There was a glimmer of recognition, but nothing more, and his face dropped once again to his shoes. Roy slumped against the brick, swore about his shoulder, and closed his eyes to think. Batman was on his way, Starfire was taking care of things in Gotham, and Deathstroke was unconsciously bleeding to death. He and Jason would be okay. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes back up.

Jason was gone. Roy made a sound in the back of his throat somewhere between a wheeze and a scoff. "Jay!" he yelled, and walked out of the alley. "Jay!"

He found his teammate by his motorcycle, rummaging through the saddlebag. "What are you doing?"

Jason turned and walked towards Roy. He had a bandage in his hand, and Roy took it and pressed it to his shoulder wound. "Thanks, buddy," he said as cheerfully as he could muster.

Jason just sat on the ground. His expression never changed. Roy sighed and sat next to him. They waited for reinforcements to arrive.

They were there two minutes after Arsenal and Red Hood sat down. "You're a little late," Roy muttered darkly. Jason didn't look up at the two, but inched closer to Roy. Batman had landed the jet farther away, and came from the direction of their fight with the assassin. He rounded the corner and stood a few feet away.

"Deathstroke is dead," Batman growled.

Roy looked at Dick before responding, knowing that he wouldn't see anger on his face. "We've got bigger problems than killing an evil genius in self defense."

"Not the point," Batman growled. "We need an antidote."

"Then you better think of one," Roy yelled, "or your son is staying a vegetable!"

Everyone stopped. Stopped talking, moving, breathing. All eyes focused on Jason. And Jason's eyes focused on nothing. He simply sat, knees drawn up to his chest, face impassive and calm. Peaceful, even. Roy wondered, had Jason always had that baby face lurking under the cunning and angry expression, under the show he put on?

Dick made the first move, walking the rest of the way and crouching in front of Jason. "What happened?" He tentatively put his hand on the younger man's shoulders. No change.

Roy stood up and dusted himself off. Jason's predicament was freaking him out; he needed to move. "It was the drugs. Which means it could wear off, right?"

Batman faltered. The father in him, the part of him that loved and cherished the small boy that had stolen tires, was dying. That part of him was in pain, unimaginable pain. But Batman had to press on, had to be strong and logical. "Judging by the prolonged reaction Jason had earlier, this passing through his system seems unlikely."

Dick gripped Jason's shoulder just a little bit tighter, not willing to hang his head in defeat. Jason still did nothing. "So, what are we looking at for the time being, then? Before we find an antidote, I mean."

And, though no one could tell, Jason's broken mind thought to itself: Dick. Hope.

"Before Jason was thrown into the Lazarus Pit, he was in a semi-autistic state due to brain damage. He worked on survival instinct and muscle memory." Batman moved no closer. It was only distance that kept him calm. "It seems that his mind has regressed. It's possible we aren't seeing a new drug, but a new antidote to the Pit itself."

"So let's put him back in the Pit!" Roy yelled, and Jason's eyes snapped up to Dick's before he curled his body towards his brother. No, he thought, and the word echoed around his mind. Not yet. Please. Stay.

"Hey," Dick crooned, smoothing Jason's hair as the boy leaned into him. "It's okay. No Lazarus Pit for you. Can you speak, Jason?" Jason stayed in his position. "Can you look at me, please?"

Still no change.

"We should go. Not that there are any cops in this part of town, but someone's bound to show up." Roy shuffled his feet.

"Nightwing, call Starfire and tell her to wait for us in Gotham. I'll get Deathstroke's body and meet you in the plane."

"No," Nightwing said as he pulled Jason up with him. "You should take your son. Deathstroke is dead." Jason visibly flinched, so Dick calmed down. "I'll pick up Deathstroke if you want, B. But, for once in your life, just show your boy you care."

Dick didn't wait for an answer. He let go of Jason and brushed past Bruce. Roy jogged after him and began to call Kori.

After they were gone, Batman allowed himself to slump in resignation. "I'm not sure what scares me more," he whispered to Jason, "if you're still in there, or if you're not."

And Jason began to cry.