I'm writing this mostly because I love the idea of Jason needing comfort, and I love flipping the roles in terms of who cries and who comforts who.

Also: this chapter was supposed to be 'Getting Married' but I really couldn't picture Jason and Barbara getting married. I don't think they're those kinds of people, I think they'd just stay together 5ever. So my bad if that's what you were looking for, I just know that my writing wouldn't have done it any justice since I hate the idea of it.

**********LINE BREAKER!**********

Nightmares were commonplace in the Batfamily. They'd all been getting traumatizing nightmares since long before they first put on spandex and jumped off a skyscraper. It was really rather interesting the way they each dealt with their nightmares, however.

Bruce would simply stop sleeping. He'd go days without sleeping after a debilitating nightmare. Alfred would often get extremely concerned about him as the circles under his eyes grew in size and in darkness. Despite his urges to send the man to bed, Bruce would remain awake until coffee no longer could hold his heavy lids open.

Dick would call someone. Socializing seemed to be Dick's way of comforting himself. He used to call Barbara a lot. Nowadays, he'd call Kori or Alfred, maybe Tim. Once he had called Jason, and as soon as Jason figured out that Dick was calling because he had a nightmare, Dick found himself talking to a dead line.

Tim could spend hours reading. The books always chased away the horrors of his dream, he said. Depending on how bad the dream was, Tim would read until he felt better. There was a day when Bruce awakened and Tim had broken into the Manor in the midst of the night and fallen asleep on a chair in the library, completely surrounded by a huge stack of books. Bruce had put them all back, and then carried the boy to a spare room.

Damian denied even having nightmares. He claimed 'the grandson of the Demon's Head was too strong for childish things such as night terrors'. But sometimes, if Bruce walked down the corridor late at night, he could hear very, very quiet weeping behind Damian's door. Sometimes, he contemplated going in and comforting his son. But he knew that Damian's pride was the only comfort he really needed, so he let the boy deal in his own way. Even Alfred didn't know, mostly because if Bruce told the old Englishman about Damian's dreams, he would throw such a fit that there would be no point in not going into Damian's room at night when it was happening to begin with.

Barbara preferred physical comforts. Anything that felt nice to eat or to the touch, that was what she needed after a particularly debilitating dream. She loved fuzzy blankets and hot cocoa and fluffy pillows and warm hugs. Things that felt nice against her skin so that she could be reminded that not everything was painful. Not everything was horrible and awful and full of sick laughter.

Each member had their coping mechanisms. All except one.

Jason never knew he needed coping mechanisms. Whenever something terrifying came to him at night, he'd simply stare at the wall or the ceiling until he could convince himself it wasn't real. Until he had the strength to close his eyes again and go back to sleep. Generally, that process took a few hours. But eventually, Jason always managed to go to sleep.

It's not like he dreamt often. Not even happy dreams. Usually he'd close his eyes and suddenly it was morning and he had to get up. His nightmares used to be much more frequent than they were nowadays, almost every day. Especially after he'd come back from the grave, he found himself waking up in a cold sweat multiple times a night. It seemed he'd spent more time in his bed trying to get back to sleep than actually sleeping. But as he learned to adjust to life after death, the dreams stopped almost entirely. Every now and then, something nice would come to him in his sleep. Once he dreamt of his mother; another time he dreamt of his first patrol with Bruce. But dreams like that were few and far between.

But of course, the first time Barbara stayed the night at his apartment, he'd have a nightmare. That was just Jason Todd's luck.

His alarm clock on the nightstand read 2:38 AM when he looked over at it. He found that his breath was extremely uneven and broken. Heart pounding in his chest, tears welling in his eyes, Jason could feel his entire body trembling. Despite his best efforts, he could not stop the shaky feeling he felt. Even his organs seemed to be quaking. His stomach had practically flipped inside out within him and he felt sick enough to throw up, though he knew he wouldn't.

Suddenly, his attention turned back to Barbara, sleeping soundly next to him. Her hair had been pulled back in a bun, though during her tossing and turning in her slumber a few strands had escaped the knot and now rested across her face peacefully. Her cheek was squished against the pillow and there was a small drop of drool escaping her mouth. Jason could look at her face all night in admiration.

On most nights.

However, most nights he didn't see himself getting blown up over and over.

There was a newfound fear of waking Barbara up and disturbing her with this nonsense. It was just a nightmare; she didn't need to concern herself with this. But Jason knew Barbara and he knew that she would. As silently as he could with his jittery limbs, Jason climbed out of bed and hurried out the door.

Closing and locking the bathroom door behind him, he slid against it until his bottom touched the tiles on the floor. The wood of the door felt good against the flesh on his back. It was cool and grainy and somehow comforting despite the splinters he could easily get. Jason could feel his heart rate slowing, but the decline was too gradual. He was tired and he wanted to go back to bed. He wanted to stop feeling this way.

It would help if his brain would stop forcing images to the forefront of his mind. The silence in his apartment made it hard not to focus on it. He'd like to listen to music, but there was no way in hell that he could put some on without waking the beautiful redhead in the other room. Looking around the bathroom for something to focus on, his gaze fell on the knob to turn the shower on. It glistened in the artificial light that the bathroom offered, tempting Jason with the promise to keep the silence out of his ears. All he had to do was reach across the bathroom and turn it on.

If he moved quickly enough, he wouldn't have time to rethink this decision.

And that's what Jason did.

Practically leaping across the bathroom, his hand grasped the cool metal and turned the water on, shutting the shower curtain as he did so that he could, at the very least, keep from making the bathroom a flooded mess.

Within milliseconds, the sound of water hitting the porcelain bathtub was filling the entire bathroom, as well as a thick layer of steam. It condensed against Jason's skin, weighing down his hair and letting the droplets crash to their deaths on the tile. Now that the silence was out of his ears, Jason fell back against the door with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The water ran for a few minutes before Jason could slowly feel himself relax and his mind going blank and then-

Bang bang!

Loud thuds against the door at Jason's back made him jump, startled. His mind was still in a haze and he hadn't quite registered who would be knocking on his bathroom door at 3 AM.

"Jay," Barbara called, her voice sounding as though she was fighting a yawn to call to him. "Jason, what are you doing? You've had the water running for like thirty minutes." She knocked again, this time harder. He could tell she was beginning to fully wake up and suddenly he felt panic rising in his throat, taking the form of guilt for waking his guest. Barbara jiggled the doorknob for a brief moment, before she realized he had locked it. He could picture the concerned look on her sleepy face because she knew damn well that Jason never locked the door while he showered. He rarely even closed the door, let alone lock it. "Babe, what's wrong? Open the door." She jiggled the knob again, as if to emphasize her words.

In a moment of hysteria and not yet able to register his actions, Jason unlocked the door, moving across the bathroom floor and sat on the adjacent wall. He positioned himself in the same position: knees in his chest, elbows on his knees, arms holding up his chin.

The doorknob moved, and then the door swung lazily on its hinges, granting Barbara Gordon visual of the bedmate who'd disappeared on her. Her concerned look turned sad as she saw him, her jaw going slack and her mouth forming an 'O'. Rather than squinting her eyes against the light, they softened in understanding and melancholy.

Jason felt himself filling up with dread at the way that Barbara was looking at him right now. There were few things he disliked more than people pitying him, and right now he felt more vulnerable than he had in years. "Nothing's wrong, Babs," he said. Until he tried to speak, he hadn't known how sore and constricted his throat felt. It changed his voice to a croak, which wasn't helped by how loud he had to speak in order to be heard over the shower. Hoping to hide part of his face, he buried his chin and mouth in the fold of his arms. Only then did he realize he'd been crying. Maybe he still was, he just couldn't be sure. But his cheeks were damp and his lips tasted of salty tears. "I just couldn't sleep is all."

He could tell she didn't believe it when her mouth closed and her jaw tightened.

Barbara slowly entered the bathroom and reached past Jason's body, turning the water in the shower off and extending the other hand towards him. He looked up at her, mildly confused.

"Come on, Jay," she said, reaching further down and grabbing his hand. After pulling him to his feet, she pushed him out in front of her. Jason could feel her delicate fingers gently guiding him back to his own bedroom, then spin him around and sit him down on the edge of the bed. Her cold hands now found a place on his shoulders as they held him upright. Suddenly aware of his own tears, he became hyperaware of the effects his sobs had on him. His nose was running and he could feel the puffiness in his cheeks and eyes, making it almost feel sore and swollen.

Barbara knelt before him, forcing him to look her in her eyes. She hadn't spoken since she pulled him to his feet, and that was comforting in a strange way. As if anything she had to say would've only made Jason uncomfortable. As if she knew that Jason didn't know how to be comforted, so she simply had to force him to let her. As if Jason wasn't aware that someone needed to take care of him, so Barbara just wouldn't ask his permission before she did. Reaching up, she dragged her thumbs along the circles under his eyes, effectively dragging the barely there tears away. Her hands gently grasped his cheeks now, holding his head completely still. Her gaze penetrated so deeply, he felt as though she could see his bleeding heart right through his eyes. A small part of him wondered whether she would leave once she was done putting him back to bed.

She stood up now, pulling his head into her stomach and gently toying with the hairs on the back of his neck. Jason wanted to wrap his arms around her midsection and hold her to him like that until he felt grounded, like the world around him was solid once more. But before he even had the courage to do that, she moved away from him.

He remained completely still while Barbara moved around the bed, and he only knew she was behind him due to the sudden dip in the mattress. Suddenly, he felt the blanket around his shoulders. Her arm came snaking around him, carrying the blanket with it. Soon he was completely wrapped up in his comforter, engulfed in the cozy fabric and Barbara's arms. She pulled him down to the bed, laying him against her breast and played with his hair. Now, he pulled one arm free of its cushy prison and wrapped it around Barbara's waist. In this moment, Barbara couldn't be closer to him.

Jason was no longer crying, but his eyes were shut as tight as he could and all he could hear was Barbara's heartbeat. Anytime Barbara felt his breathing quicken, she'd rub her hand gently through his hair and shush him. Her voice served as a delicate reminder that she was there, and nothing could harm him if Barbara held him like this.

Eventually, Barbara could feel him relax enough to fall asleep in that position, one arm around her waist and his head against her breasts. Even then, though, she refused to move. In case he awoke, she wanted him to know that she was still there, holding him and keeping him safe. She slept like that too, one hand holding Jason's forearm and one resting on his neck. When the morning came, they were still like that, and neither said a word about the previous night. Barbara never asked what happened in his dream, she never even confirmed that it was a bad dream. Jason simply lived on knowing that Barbara would be the best coping mechanism he'd ever dreamed of.