Chapter Seven: As Barbara, Artemis, Steph, and Cassie spring into action to save the boys from the trap they have so willingly walked into, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian get some help from a very unexpected source.
AN: I am so very sorry that this chapter update took so long. It is on me. Hopefully, you enjoyed it enough to maybe forgive me. Your feedback means a lot – we'd love to hear what you have to say. Thank you for taking the time to read – enjoy!
Chapter Seven
With every fiber of her being, Steph willed their half-baked plan to work. It was definitely a feeling she was becoming all too familiar with. She slowly eased up on the gas of her bike as she brought it into the cave right behind Cass and just in front of Artemis. No, she reminded herself sternly. The blond woman behind her was very much in Tigress mode. The second she'd raked her hair back into a ponytail and snapped on her orange and black facemask – Artemis was gone. Steph had seen her fight a handful of times before. Where as Artemis was strong and fierce, Tigress walked that line of deadly. Artemis could smile, a little, and joke around with Barbara, Tigress didn't smile. Steph would never say it aloud, but she couldn't wait for the mask to come off.
"Alfred?" Tigress called out the second all three engines were quiet. The man in question materialized from the shadows. A bat trick the older man must have picked up over the years.
"Ladies," he said simply, but not without warmth. He was holding a brown paper bag in one hand. Stephanie couldn't help but smile despite the way her heart was hammering in her chest. She noticed even Cas'ss lips had turned upwards, even just a little.
The man moved forward with purpose, placing the wrapped package in Cass's arms. "Ms. Gordon asked me to make sure the jet was ready to go." He informed them, already starting to lead them towards it. "I have packed you some sandwiches. And yes, Ms. Crock, I did remember you're not eating meat these days." The man didn't miss a beat. "I would have been happy to give some type of meal to the young masters as well, however they felt it necessary to depart without checking in first." Stephanie couldn't help but notice the slight edge to his voice. The boys were idiots for thinking they could have broken in, and out, all without alerting Alfred to their presence. She could practically see him walking down the stair with a try of sandwiches, and probably coffee as all three of them were likely addicted – only to watch the plane take off.
"Yeah," she said, her own voice clipped. "They didn't check in with us either." They stopped just outside the jet's main door.
"Yes, Ms. Gordon's tone implied as much," he drawled. Stephanie was convinced only Alfred Pennyworth was capable of that kind of disdain. "Everything is ready for your departure."
"Thank you, Alfred, we appreciate it, really," Tigress said with a tight smile that almost reached her eyes, before boarding and heading immediately for the pilot's seat. While Steph would have preferred to fly, because then she could have at least felt useful, she was secretly grateful. Keeping her mind focused wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do when all it wanted was to show her every worst-case scenario it could think of.
The old man sighed heavily after her, his gaze then turning to Stephanie, making her stomach drop.
"Please do your best to see them all brought home in one piece," he said, sounding exhausted. She bit her lip, not knowing exactly what to say. "Incase you should find yourselves in need," he continued, eyes now gazing off into the darker parts of the cave. "I also took the liberty of inspecting the first aid kits. There are three of them on board, all fully stocked." She wanted to reassure him, to promise that they wouldn't need the kits, but Stephanie couldn't bring herself to lie – not to him.
"Alfred, we don't really know…" she trailed off.
"Ms. Brown, please, I know each of those boys very well. It would be a miracle if only one of them required stitches upon their return." His voice was strong again, an eyebrow cocked in a way Stephanie could only describe as British.
"If they don't need stitches, they're going to…" Cass muttered, her voice only just audible over the start of the engine. Alfred met her eyes with a smirk, and Stephanie found herself smiling just a little too.
"Quite," he said before ushering them up the ramp, taking no more than a second each to adjust their masks, or brush away some imaginary lint from their shoulders.
The plane itself could never be described as sparse, but everything that existed on it – the three first aid kits, blankets, a coffee maker, and even some pretty high tech weapons stashes, were all tucked away and out of sight.
"We good to go?" Tigress asked as the two of them took their seats. Cass nodded softly, buckling herself in and bringing her knees to her chest. Stephanie moved herself into the co-pilot's seat without hesitation.
"Sure thing," she chirped, flicking on the navigation system and working to open up the comm. link with Oracle. Tigress nodded, her hands flexing over the controls before punching the jet into action. Stephanie tried not to notice the way Artemis was peaking through the proverbial mask of the blonde woman next to her. The way the toes of her left boot tapped out an uneasy rhythm. Barbara had pulled her aside with special directions just before they'd left.
"Look, Artemis talks a big talk, and she can sure as hell back it up, but keep an eye on her for me." Their redheaded leader had commanded. "She's lost a lot, okay? If one of the boys is hurt or…" Barbara had trialed off then, her hands spread wide, not want to admit what the three girls might find on the island. "I just want you to be ready to step up." Stephanie didn't want to think about the implication of Barbara's words. She knew all too well what the older Bats and Artemis had been through. Losing Jason, losing their friends Tula and Wally, and then dealing with a missing Dick Grayson. Stephanie fidgeted restlessly as she tried not to think about it. The idea of finding Tim hurt… of finding any of them damaged sent a chill through her body.
"Y'll right there, Blondie?" Artemis asked, breaking into her thoughts. Stephanie jumped a little, more surprised that the older woman had taken her mask off than anything else.
"Yeah, fine," she replied. "Just thinking about all the ways I'm going to kick their asses for trying to sneak out on us." The sound of nervous laughter filled the cabin.
"Dibs on Nightwing," Artemis smirked. "He knows better – and there won't be anything left of him when Babs gets her hands on him."
"Damian," Cass interjected with a nod of her head. "He disobeyed a direct order."
"Don't go too hard on the kid," Artemis said, surprising both the other girls. "I think going against direct orders is something like a right of passage in your family." Neither one of them had a reply for that – as there was no honest way to deny it.
"I'll start going over those maps," Stephanie said, finally breaking the silence that had taken over. "I might even have them memorized by the time we get there." No one said anything as she pulled the maps up on a screen in front of her trying to commit every rise and fall of the island's jungle to memory. She found herself somewhat deliriously happy that there was a coffee machine on board. They were going to need a lot of it to get them through this night.
Ra's al Ghul stared at the video screen before him, where a sobbing Dick Grayson suddenly began convulsing before going unconscious yet again, an ugly continuation of Dr. Crane's Nightmare serum. The boy's mind and body were shattered, bloody, and once again he was falling into an abyss of nightmares and horrors that no man wanted to experience.
Ra's had watched the first Robin's nightmares, feeling a growing sickness in his stomach as they continued. He had vehemently protested when the Joker had suggested he go down to the holding cell to prod the young man further, to see what additional horrors he could coax out of him with the right provocation. Dr. Crane had agreed with the madman, with the man Ra's had sworn to never work with again.
His eyes turned to the other video monitor, showing his grandson, Timothy Drake, and the man that haunted his nightmares: Jason Todd. It was after the Joker had killed Jason that Ra's had steadfastly refused to employ the Joker's help again. It was after that awful moment that he had offered his one and only apology to the Detective.
The Joker here on Santa Prisca was not his doing, was not his idea. Bane had wanted the madman here for his experience, Dr. Crane had wanted him around for precisely a moment such as this. And without Ra's' quick intervention, the Joker might have claimed another of the Detective's boys.
He knew what he had to do. This experiment had gone far enough.
"Dr. Crane, I want you to meet the Joker on his way back. Inform him his services are no longer required." al Ghul's voice was cold, hard, and his eyes never wavered from the video screens in front of him.
"But... but, sir," Dr. Crane stuttered, "I must stay. He just returned to unconsciousness. I must document his..."
"Did I stutter, Doctor?" Ra's' eyes left the video screens as he rounded on the shorter man. "Escort the Joker off these premises immediately, or I will remove all of my funding from your little pet project." As the man nodded and began scurrying for the door, he turned his gaze to Bane.
"Make sure he leaves. If he resists, break him on the way out." The larger man looked at him for a long moment before silently nodding and making his way after Dr. Crane.
Ra's turned his attention back to the video monitors the moment Bane left. After waiting a few seconds for them to be a suitable distance, he put his plan into motion. Typing a few quick keystrokes into the computer, he watched as the doors to both holding cells opened. What the boys decided to do from there was their own choice; he could immediately help them no further.
Sweeping his cape around him, Ra's left the observation room and made his way towards the hanger. None of Bane's forces stopped him or questioned him along the way, and no alarm sounded. He could only hope this meant his grandson and the Detective's boys had made their escape. It was time for him to make good on his.
Sitting at the controls of his plane was his trusted servant, Ubu, just as he had been when Ra's left him hours ago. With a few quick words, the plane was in motion, and Ra's strapped himself in. Picking up a communicator, he dialed a number as the plane moved down a hidden runway. The communicator rang once, twice, three times, and Ra's thought that he might not be able to get the man on the other end. Just as he was about to hang up, the ringing stopped and a stern, raspy voice greeted him.
"I told you to not call this number, al Ghul." The Detective.
"I apologize for interrupting you in the middle of a mission, Detective. But you are needed on Earth."
"Ra's, I swear to god, if you're pulling some stunt..."
"It's no stunt, Detective. Your sons are in danger. They are on Santa Prisca." He paused. "I am sorry Detective. Once again one of your boys is in grave danger because I partnered with a madman. I am hoping this makes amends." Ra's hung up the communicator before the Detective could say anything further, as the plane lifted off into the dark Caribbean night.
With a hand pressed up against the glass separating the room he was in from his eldest brother, Tim Drake watched as Dick convulsed before slipping back into unconsciousness. Even though he knew it wouldn't do any good, he slammed his hand against the glass for what seemed like the hundredth time.
The external pain coursing through his hand was nothing compared to the pain inside his heart. Seeing Dick's nightmares, seeing the older boy blame him for Barbara getting shot... that his brother blamed him, even in some dark crevice of his mind that needed terrorizing drugs to be brought out cut Tim to his very core.
The door to their holding cell swinging open pulled him from his bout of self-pity. All three boys turned, none truly up for another round, but all getting into battle-ready stances. No one came through the door. He and Jason exchanged a quick glance before the older boy shrugged and began moving towards the door slowly.
"The other door is open as well." Tim looked into Dick's holding cell and saw that Damian was correct. A million thoughts swam through his head. Was this their chance to escape? Were they being set up again?
"Come on, we're going." Jason's voice cut through his thoughts, making the decision for them before Tim could even utter a word of question. Before Tim was out the door, Jason had already dashed into Dick's holding cell, pulling at his restraints. Damian moved in to help as well, while Tim kept his distance from Dick, perching himself against the door, keeping watch in the hallway.
Less than a minute later, Dick was free, but still unconscious. Of the three of them, Jason was the only one who could carry their oldest brother, and he knew it. Tim watched as he pressed a shoulder into Dick's gut and lifted him, grunting. Jason took a slightly unsteady step towards the door before stopping. Something on the floor had caught his eye. Tim looked down and saw it too.
The crowbar.
Jason stepped on the end of it, flipping it up into his hand, fist tightening around the end. Tim's eyes widened as he met Jason's gaze.
"I've got a feeling we're going to need this," Jason said simply, moving towards the door. What dire straits were they in that he would even consider using the weapon that the Joker had killed him with? That he had almost killed Dick with?
Damian and Jason took somewhat of a co-lead as the boys made their way towards what they hoped was the outside world. The little brat would check around the corners and wave the rest of them around when the coast was clear. Tim hung back from them a little. If either of the other boys asked him, he would say that he was watching their backs. But in reality, Dick's nightmares were eating at him, and it was hard for him to be this close to his eldest brother at the moment.
The factory was surprisingly clear of Bane's goons, which was another reason a gnawing feeling of unease was growing in the pit of Tim's stomach. Granted, they had walked right into a trap earlier and that's why there were all those guards waiting for them before, but they couldn't have all just... disappeared.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a crowbar at his chest stopped Tim in his tracks. Poking his head around the corner, he saw three thugs standing in a tight group, chatting. One of them was smoking a cigarette, which is what probably prompted the sharp intake of breath from Jason. Here they were, on a Caribbean island owned by a master criminal, their oldest brother having drug-induced seizures, and all it took to get Jason really excited was the sight of one of his cancer sticks.
The nicotine-addicted man knelt, placing Dick against a wall gently, before turning to Tim. "Alright, here's how we're going to take them down..." Jason turned to address Damian, only to find that the youngest boy had already disappeared into the darkness. "That little shit."
That little shit, indeed, thought Tim. He thought that Damian might have been too young to pick up Bruce's disappearing act already, but then again, the Batman was his father. Maybe it just ran in his blood. Tim turned to say something to Jason, but the older boy had vanished too. He felt like cursing out loud, but restrained himself because that would only alert the thugs to their presence. But wasn't this exactly what had gotten them into this situation in the first place? Running off into a situation half-cocked, without a plan, following that little brat? Was he the only one taking the time to think critically about their pervious mistakes? As per usual, the answer to those questions appeared to be a resounding "yes."
Tim poked his head around the corner again and knew what was going to happen before it did. A shadow dropped from the ceiling, landing on the thug farthest away from them, and smashing him into the ground. It was Damian, but Tim had no idea how he'd managed to get up where he'd dropped. At the moment it didn't matter. The closest thug's mouth opened, cigarette falling from his mouth, but before he could shout, a crowbar swing to the back of his head sent him crumpling to the floor. Damian leapt off the first thug and slammed his body into the only one still standing, sending him crashing back into a wall, where the back of his head impacted with a crack. The final thug dropped.
As Tim stood, he saw Damian walk over and not-so-subtly grind his boot down on the cigarette that had fallen to the floor. Jason didn't see, which was probably best for the brat's sake. But as the man looked for it, he came across the crushed cancer stick, and Tim could almost see the pain in his eyes behind the domino mask. Despite his disdain for Jason's smoking habit, Tim almost felt bad for his brother in that moment.
Shaking off the momentary setback in his continuing quest to kill himself, Jason walked back over to where Tim was waiting with Dick, and groaned softly as he picked the other man up again. Damian quickly scoured the thug's belts for anything useful, including canteens.
Astonishingly, at least to Tim, they didn't run into any other thugs before they made it to a doorway leading to the outside world. There weren't even guards patrolling the outside. Tim was growing increasing suspicious of the ease of their escape, but despite waiting for the hammer to drop at any minute, he followed closely as the boys all made a mad dash for the tree line.
It was about ten minutes later that they heard the alarm go off. It was a klaxon siren that echoed through the night air, bouncing off the trees, waking up the birds and causing them to fly off noisily. Tim heard Jason bite back another string of curses as he lowered Dick to the ground again. Looking down at them both, Tim's mind raced for a solution before he dropped to his knees, starting to pull off Dick's glove that contained his wrist computer.
He popped open the cover to the computer, and began wiring portions of his own into his older brother's. With the combined power of whatever was left in both of their computers, he hoped he could break through the interference that Bane was throwing up over the island and bounce a signal off of one of Bruce's satellites. A short burst message with their coordinates and a request for help should be sufficient. He just needed to get it through the interference.
"Uh... Timmy?" Jason's voice was soft, but the use of his real name startled Tim. That never happened in the field. "What are you doing?"
Tim countered with a quick, layman's terms explanation of what he was doing with the computers. He knew they didn't have a lot of time. "With any luck... this should work."
"So what you're telling me is that we're basically fuc..." Jason stopped his retort as he looked over at Damian and took another deep breath in. "Screwed."
"No, no. 'Fucked' was more than appropriate, Todd," Damian said, leaning back against a tree, his eyes not leaving the wizardry that Tim was trying to perform with the wrist computers. "I thought that would have been obvious by now."
Jason snorted. "Look at you, all grown up and using pretty swear words. Dickie bird isn't going to like it." Despite the darkness and the domino mask, Tim could have sworn he saw Damian's eyes roll.
"Yes, next thing you know I'll be up to a pack-a-day habit and suffering from heavy withdrawal the next time we're marooned on some Caribbean island owned an operated by the equivalent of a drug lord."
Before Jason could retort with what Tim could only assume would be a rather loud and vulgar reply, he interjected. "Next time this happens," he asked, his eyes not leaving the computers. "Can I not be on the "next time" mission?" Tapping a few keys, he pressed send on the message, and watched as he got an affirmative response from the satellite before both computers died, their power spent.
"At least the message got out," he said, giving a half shrug of his shoulders. There was nothing more he could do with the tech they had on hand.
Dick groaned on the ground, and in a flash Jason was at his side. The older man looked up at both of his younger brothers, trying not to show any emotion, but doing a terrible job of hiding the pain creasing his face.
"Both of you, head out and scout for a suitable pick up point. Or find out where north side of this island is, and the ocean with it." Tim nodded, waving a hand to Damian, who huffed and started walking ahead of him.
"And guys?" Both Tim and Damian stopped, turning to look at the man kneeling over Dick.
"Just don't die, okay?" There was no way Jason could have known that Dick once said those exact same words to him years ago. Tim's body tightened for a moment before he nodded, both he and Damian disappearing into the darkness of the jungle.
To say things were not going well was definitely the understatement of the month. Probably the whole year. Jason was tempted to say of his life but he knew it could always get worse. And if both of the younger boys were going to be looking at him for answers, he thought bitterly, they were all screwed.
As he watched Tim and Damian disappear into the jungle, Jason muttered a prayer, just in case there was a God, that the two of them would work together, or if nothing else simply survive each other. Even with their masks on, Jason could tell they were scared. He wanted to tell them that Dick was going to be fine, was fine, but he knew it was a lie. Dick was not fine, and Jason didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, that it was really starting to worry him.
Jason tried hard to not grimace as Dick's body jerked painfully on the ground. He could see his eyes darting quickly behind closed lids, and knew if he reached a hand to the older boy's neck that his pulse would be racing.
Jason slipped a hand underneath Dick's shoulders and lifted him slightly, grabbing one of the canteens Damian had scoured and brought it to his older brother's lips, pouring some water on to them. He figured it was a start. People with unstable toxins in their blood wouldn't be hurt by water, right?
He sat back with a groan of his own, prodding his own ribs softly, just to check. Oh yeah, without a doubt, something was broken. Jason let his eyes scan out over the jungle before him, rationalizing that there was very little he could do at this point. He moved some of the undergrowth around him, attempting to camouflage them if only just a little. Jason didn't want to look down; he didn't want to focus on Dick, but he couldn't help it. His eyes dropped without out his permission.
"Fuck," he whispered, scanning Dick's face. He could tell there was another nightmare going on behind the closed eyes. Listening to the sounds of the jungle and Dick's labored breathing, Jason swore again. He knew he would have to be the one to figure them out of this mess. Fan-fucking-tastic. Wearily, Jason scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Jay…?" Jason breathed deeply, calmly, trying not to make any sudden movements. The sound hadn't startled him as much as it surprised him. That, and he didn't want to risk Dick's mind convincing him he was in a dangerous situation and that Jason was the enemy. He didn't want to have to hit him, but he would if it came right down to it. Jason turned, cringing at the weakness in Dick's voice. He inched closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling the older boy trembling. This was not how things were supposed to be.
"You actually awake, and conscious?" he asked skeptically. "Or is this some twisted walking nightmare like you use to have when we were kids? Am I going to have to knock you out?" Dick smiled weakly up at him. Jason had to fight the knee jerk reaction to back away. He was having a very hard time seeing Dick this…helpless. Richard John Grayson – Boy Wonder – the Original wasn't supposed to be this… powerless.
"I think so…" Dick whispered, his tongue trying uselessly to wet his cracked lips.
Jason eyed the water canteen sharply. Slowly, he brought it up to the older boy's lips, silently urging him to drink. Instead, Dick choked on the liquid. Fine. Fine, they could always come back to that later. Jason set it back down, focusing himself in on the wan smile that had taken up residence on Dick's face.
"Sorry…I'm sure you'd love to take a swing at me and all, but since you're not actively trying to kill me, or you know, bleeding to death in front of my eyes…" he paused trying to catch his breath. "I'm pretty sure I'm lucid for now." Jason took a second to process that those two things, him either bleeding to death or trying to kill Dick, existed in his older brother's nightmares.
"Nah, I cleaned all the blood off, just for you," he tried to say as flippantly as possible, realizing the stupidity as his clothes were in fact, stained with blood. He groaned internally before moving closer and busied himself with going through Dick's pockets. There hadn't been time earlier, and Jason really hadn't wanted to do it when Dick had been unconscious for fear the older boy would have assumed he was being attacked. Jason did not want to feed into the nightmares if he could help it.
"Aaa… Jay…?" Dick said through labored breaths, "I like you and all, but aren't you getting a little too…" He trailed off, his eyes closing briefly before flickering back open. "Too…intimate? I mean I haven't bought you dinner or…" Jason could tell the older man was trying to keep his body still. It was a losing battle.
"Shut it," he ordered, his fingers finally fishing a small packet out of one of the pockets. "These are pain killers, right?" He waved the packet in front of Dick's face hopefully. Dick's eyes tracked the movement slowly.
"Jay, at risk of sounding… you know… I don't think I can swallow that right now…" Jason had to put his hand over his mouth to stop from laughing.
"Glad to see your sense of humor is still intact." He moved to pull the pack open and popped one of the pills in his own mouth. "Don't worry, I'll force a few of these down your throat later when you can prove to me water isn't going to kill you. Or I'll wait and make the little monster do it – you probably won't be tempted to bite him." Dick's eyes went wide as he started looking around.
"Damian… Tim…?" Jason had to pin him back down to the ground when he tried to sit up. Dick was every bit an older brother – just barely hanging on to this side of consciousness and he wanted to jump up and rescues his little brothers from imagined danger.
"Easy, Dickie. They're fine. I sent them to do a little recon. Timmy hotwired your computers together and sent up some techno flare. Sad to say, big boy, they can handle reconnaissance." The panic slowly receded from Dick's eyes. They sat for a few minutes in an uneasy silence – the sound of Dick's breathing still too audible.
"How you feeling?" Jason asked. It was a stupid question and he knew it. It took Dick more than a couple of heartbeats to respond.
"Like shit," Dick finally admitted, turning his head to the side. Turning away from Jason. Jason didn't fail to notice the way Dick's body was still shaking. He started praying to possible Gods again that this wasn't Dick going into shock.
"Well, you look like shit," he offered, trying to calm his own nerves. Dick didn't answer, but Jason could tell he was less than impressed. "I'm kidding," he joked, nudging Dick softly with his foot. They both knew he wasn't. Jason did not want to admit how uncomfortable this whole situation was making him. Dick was suppose to be the one who bandaged scrapes and bruises. That's how it had always been. Anytime he'd come back dinged up – it was either Dick or Al who'd patched him back together. Jason was more like Bruce when it came to this kind of stuff. He felt helpless, lost, and really weird, because some small part of his brain was shouting at him to offer some type of comfort.
Hesitantly, he extended his hand, Dick's eyes still turned away from him. Jason had almost gotten to the point where he could push the sweat matted strands of dark hair off of a burning forehead when Dick's red-rimed, blue eyes came back to rest on him. He yanked his hand back without a word. Dick eyed him closely, the tip of his tongue still trying uselessly to wet his lips.
"…Jay…Do me a favor?" he asked. Jason had to lean in closer to hear him.
"Yeah?"
"Tells Babs that I'm sorry," he pleaded. "For everything." Jason watched as Dick fought with himself, tried desperately to keep his eyes open and the nightmares away.
"Dick…" he said slowly, placating.
"I'm not done!" Dick rasped. "Everything. For keeping her in the dark…For lying…for leaving. For being such as ass… I'm -" Dick had to stop, the air pushing itself out of his lungs in a cough. It made Jason wince.
"You'll tell her yourself, Dickie," Jason said, hoping he sounded more certain than he felt. He couldn't handle the way Dick was struggling.
"I… I just… I just want to make sure she knows… I'm sorry for all of it…"
"Dick," Jason said, interrupting his hands waving. "Clue me in. How bad are we talking here?" Jason didn't like this. Dick wasn't someone to start talking gloom and doom for the sake of being depressed. Dick was, by nature optimistic; it was one of the most irritating things about him. Jason had to fight back the panic when instead of answering, Dick's eyes glazed over, focusing on a point just beyond Jason's shoulder. It made his stomach churn at the thought of what tricks Dick's mind could be playing on him right now. Without thinking about the consequences, he shook him, hard.
"You'll tell her yourself," Jason repeated, his fingers digging into Dick's arm, trying to bring him back.
Dick blinked hard. Once. Twice, before shaking himself out of it with a half-hearted smile. "Just… just promise me?" he pleaded.
Jason shook his head, in mock exasperation. He let his eyes wander into the trees, a part of him wanting to catch sight of either Tim or Damian, hopefully with good news. But at the same time, he didn't want either of the younger boys to see Dick this bad.
"How bad are we talking, Dickie?" Jason repeated, his voice low and anxious. He would have happily killed someone for a cigarette at this point. His nerves were fried. Dick tried to smile up at him, but Jason wasn't watching.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry for what I did to you too. I should…" he trailed off, his eyes shutting. "I should have been there for you…" Fuck.
"Grayson, you sentimental, self-aggrandizing, boot-licking, fuckwit," Jason growled darkly. He was having none of this "trying to die," bullshit on his watch. "Stop it. You are not going to die. Ya hear me?" he had to shake Dick's shoulder, and when the older boy's eyes rolled back again he slipped his hands down to grip his face. "I don't care how fucking dark it gets. You are not allowed to give up. I will beat you senseless if you even think about 'going towards the light.'"
The corners of Dick's lips pulled up slightly. It was kind of pathetic, but at least it was something. Jason pulled back, just a little. "The kids still need you," he added, the harshness gone from his voice. He refused to add in that he might still need his older brother too – now that he'd decided having a family wasn't that bad after all. His attention was pulled away sharply by the sound of a twig snapping and the pretty creative curse that came from a voice almost too young to be using words that big. It made Jason proud to hear.
"The boys?" Dick asked, using too much strength as he tried to pull himself up. Jason, against his better judgment, helped him to sit up against a nearby tree. He couldn't blame Dick for the show of strength he wanted to put on. A part of him even appreciated it. Maybe this way, the brats wouldn't be looking to him so much.
"Just hang in there, Circus Freak," he whispered.
The weak smile found its way back, plastering itself almost painfully to Dick's face.
"Yeah," Dick breathed, trying to focus his eyes towards the sound of the boys' approach. "Hey…if…just if. The kid…?"
"Yeah," Jason sighed heavily. Screw one cigarette; he wanted the whole pack. "I'll look after him. Both of them. But if this is any fucking indication, the little brat is going to need all three of us looking after him for the rest of his life."