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Gotham – BatcavePresent10:10 A week has passed since Dick was sedated.The rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the Batcave. Dick’s throat burned as he coughed, his body weak but no longer tethered to the ventilator. The tube had been removed hours ago, and he was slowly adjusting to breathing on his own again. His limbs felt sluggish, and an unfamiliar rage simmered just beneath his skin. But worst of all? Worst of all was feeling like you were burning alive from within.Alfred approached with a tray of food, his expression calm but watchful. “Master Richard, you must eat something. Your body needs nourishment.”Dick glared at the plate. The scent of the soup made his stomach turn. Everything felt wrong—his skin was too hot, his thoughts were tangled, and every noise in the room irritated him. He clenched his jaw. “I don’t want it.”Alfred didn’t waver. “Just a few bites, sir. You’ll feel better.”The anger was sudden, explosive. Before Dick could stop himself, his hand lashed out, knocking the tray from Alfred’s grip. The plate shattered on the ground, soup splattering across the pristine floors.The room went silent.Alfred remained still, his face unreadable, but the disappointment in his eyes stung worse than any injury.Tim and Barbara, who had been sitting nearby, froze. Tim tensed, his expression wary, but Barbara stepped forward, her voice careful. “Dick—”“Just leave me alone!” he snapped, voice hoarse from disuse. His heart pounded against his ribs, his hands clenched into fists. He hated this feeling—the burning in his veins, the impulsive fury he couldn’t control.No one spoke.Dick’s breath came in sharp, ragged exhales as he looked at the mess on the floor, at Alfred’s wrinkled hands stained with soup. His vision blurred, shame crashing into him like a tidal wave.His knees buckled, and before he could stop himself, he sank to the ground. His fingers dug into his hair as his body shook. “I—I didn’t mean to…” His voice cracked, barely a whisper. “Something’s wrong with me.”Tim took a hesitant step forward, his face guarded but concerned. “It’s the Lazarus Pit,” he said carefully. “You’re still recovering. The rage—it’s part of it.”Dick clenched his jaw as another wave of burning agony tore through his body. His vision blurred, dark spots creeping at the edges, and his fingers dug into the sheets of the stretcher as he fought to stay grounded.“How long was I out for?” Dick asked.“A week.” Tim said. Every nerve in Dick’s body screamed, as if he were being set on fire from the inside out. His muscles spasmed involuntarily, sending tremors through his limbs, and a guttural groan escaped his lips.It was excruciating.The Lazarus Pit had done something to him. This wasn’t just pain—it was wrong. His body felt wrong. His skin was too tight, his blood ran too hot, and his heart pounded against his ribs like it was trying to break free. His thoughts were jumbled, shifting between burning rage and overwhelming despair, leaving him trapped in his own mind with no sense of control.He wanted it to stop.He wanted out.“Dick?” Tim’s voice was cautious, but Dick barely heard it over the rush of blood in his ears.He gasped, gripping his head as another wave of fire crawled up his spine, tightening around his chest like a vice. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.
‘Is this what Jason felt like?’
His breath hitched at the thought. Jason had been resurrected by the same cursed waters. He had lived through this.Alone.The realization sent a fresh spike of grief through his chest, but it was drowned out by another pulse of white-hot rage. He wanted to scream, wanted to lash out, wanted to tear something apart just to make the pain stop.His body hated him.His mind hated him.He felt like an animal, caged and cornered, barely restraining the urge to destroy everything around him just to release some of the burning energy coursing through his veins. His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and he squeezed his eyes shut.And then, in the worst moments—the pain would shift.Instead of rage, an unbearable weight of hopelessness crushed his chest.It was mercy to die.The thought slithered into his mind so naturally, so comforting in its simplicity. Death would be easier than this. He wouldn’t have to feel this rage, this suffering, this emptiness.He let out a shaky breath, forcing his head up to look at Tim and Barbara, who were watching him carefully. Tim was tense, his expression cautious but concerned. Barbara’s lips were pressed into a tight line, her eyes filled with worry.And Alfred—Alfred looked at him like he had already seen this before.Dick swallowed hard, his throat raw.Jason had come back from the dead feeling this.No wonder he had been so angry. So lost. So alone.And they had abandoned him to it.A choked sob escaped Dick’s throat before he could stop it, and he curled in on himself, his body trembling. His breath came in sharp gasps, his hands fisting into his hair.“I—I didn’t know,” he whispered, voice cracking. “God, I didn’t know.”Barbara reached out hesitantly, but it was Alfred who moved first. The old butler stepped forward, kneeling beside the bed, placing a steadying hand on Dick’s shoulder. His touch was firm, grounding.“But you do now, Master Richard,” Alfred said softly.Dick squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body shaking. He had failed Jason.And now, he understood exactly how much Jason had suffered.Jason.Jason, who had come back from the dead with this same fire in his blood. Jason, who had clawed his way out of his own grave, alone, abandoned. Jason, who had been dismissed, rejected by the people who should have been his family.Jason had suffered through this—alone.Dick’s chest tightened, and another sob tore from his throat.They had let him go through this alone.And Jason had never once shown them how much it hurt.Dick shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “He must have been so angry,” he whispered. “So—so lost. And we just turned our backs on him.”The silence that followed was suffocating.Tim looked away, his face tight with guilt. Barbara swallowed hard.No one could deny it.Jason had gone through hell, and none of them had been there to pull him out.A voice cut through the silence.“Wow, I really must be dead if you are all feeling bad for me.”Dick jerked his head up just in time to see Jason leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, looking way too amused for someone who had just caught him at his lowest.Dick swallowed hard, feeling the burn of shame creep up his throat. “Jason…”Jason strolled in, his gait slow, deliberate—mask off, expression unreadable. “So, what’s this I’m hearing? Golden boy’s having an existential crisis over how shitty everyone was to me?”Dick winced. “I—”“Because I gotta say,” Jason continued, raising an eyebrow as he perched himself on a chair across from him, “I was not expecting that today.”Dick let out a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his face. “I should’ve helped you.”Jason blinked, caught off guard by the sheer guilt in Dick’s voice. “Yeah, well. That ship sailed a long time ago.”“No.” Dick shook his head, finally meeting Jason’s gaze. “You don’t get to brush this off. You died, Jason. And we let you come back alone. And I—” His voice cracked, raw and unsteady. “I get it now. Just a fraction of it, but I get it.”Jason was silent, watching him carefully.“I can’t stop feeling like I’m burning,” Dick admitted, clenching his fists. “Like my body isn’t my own. Like I have to do something, destroy something, hurt something, or I’ll lose my mind.” He exhaled shakily. “And this isn’t even all of it, is it?”Jason tilted his head, considering him for a moment before shrugging. “Nah. From what Tim told me you were still alive when you were dunked in the hakuna matata pool, just fatally wounded. Ya got the light version of it.”Dick let out a humorless laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Jay…”Jason smirked, but there was something softer in his eyes. “I mean, you didn’t claw your way out of a grave, so, y’know, that helps.”Dick groaned, dropping his face into his hands again. “Not funny.”Jason leaned back, stretching his arms behind his head. “A little funny.”Dick exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know how you did it,” he admitted. “How you survived this alone.”Jason’s smirk faltered for just a second.“Yeah, well…” He tapped his fingers against the armrest. “Maybe I didn’t.”Dick’s stomach twisted at that.Jason sighed, running a hand through his hair before standing up. “Look, you’re gonna be fine,” he said, nudging Dick’s leg with his knee. “You got all of them looking out for you.” He hesitated before adding, “And… I'm not going to let you go through this alone. Got it, Goldie?”Dick glanced up, something fragile in his expression.Jason scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Look at you, all sentimental.”Dick smirked faintly. “Shut up.”Jason grinned. “Yeah, okay, Nightingale.”And for the first time since waking up, Dick felt like maybe—just maybe—he wouldn’t have to suffer through this alone after all. Gotham – Arsenal’s CribPresent16:20(A song is accompanied with this scene, link at the end.) The air in Arsenal’s hideout was heavy, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the cluttered space. The scent of old leather, gunpowder, and machine oil clung to the walls—a sharp contrast to the cold, sterile feeling of the medical equipment Tim had set up on the table. Jason sat in a worn-out recliner, rolling his shoulders as he watched Tim double-check the machine for what had to be the tenth time.“Y’know, you keep glaring at it like that, it might just break out of fear,” Jason quipped, smirking.Tim didn’t even glance up. “If it does break, we’re screwed, so shut up.” His voice was tight, distracted.Jason sighed, leaning back. “You sure you know what you’re doing, doc?”Tim finally looked up, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I know exactly what I’m doing, Jason. That’s not the problem.” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “This is serious. If I get the calibration wrong, if something goes wrong—”Jason cut him off. “Then I trust you to fix it.” Tim hesitated, fingers curling into a fist at his side.Outside, the muffled city hummed in the distance, but inside, the only sounds were the occasional crackle of the electrodes and the rhythmic, almost ghostly melody filtering through Roy’s old speakers.
“Don’t worry about a thing… ’Cause every little thing gonna be all right…”
The soft strum of Bob Marley’s 'Three Little Birds' filled the space, its easy, soothing tune almost cruel in contrast to the chaos that was about to unfold. Jason let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Really, Roy? This is your song choice?”Roy, arms crossed, leaned against the wall. “Seemed fitting.” He shrugged. “Thought you might need the reminder.”Jason scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he exhaled slowly, forcing the knot in his chest to loosen. The song felt like a relic from a different lifetime, one where hope wasn’t a foreign concept, where waking up didn’t feel like resurfacing from a nightmare
“Rise up this morning… Smiled with the rising sun…”
Jason leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers laced tightly together like he was physically holding himself together. His breath was steady, but Tim could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched like he was trying to force the words out.“Look, I need this, Tim. You know I do.” His voice was low, almost hoarse, but steady. Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before gripping the back of his neck. His voice dropped lower, rougher.“And if I lose it again… if I hurt someone—” He swallowed hard, his breathing turning shallow. “I see it, Tim. I feel it. I wake up in a cold sweat, and for a second, I swear I’m still there, still strapped to that damn chair, still waiting for the next hit, the next shock, the next laugh.” His hands clenched into fists. “And then I remember I’m not there anymore, that it was in the past. But it doesn’t matter—because he’s still in my head.” Tim stood frozen, watching Jason’s face twist with something dangerously close to fear. Jason Todd didn’t do fear. Not like this.Jason forced out a dry, humorless chuckle. “I mean, hell, maybe this is a bad idea. Maybe frying my brain is just the cherry on top of all the damage that bastard did to me.” His fingers dug into his thighs, his breath uneven now. “But if this helps, even a little—if it shuts him up, if it gives me just one night where I don’t wake up expecting to hear his damn voice—then it’s worth it.”Tim swallowed, his throat tight. He had seen Jason angry, reckless, violent. But this? This was something else entirely. This was desperation.Jason met his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, there was no bravado, no false confidence. Just exhaustion. Just the plea of someone who had been fighting a war in his own head for far too long.“Please, Tim,” Jason murmured. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”“You won’t.” Tim’s response was immediate, sharp.Jason huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah? You willing to bet your life on that?”Tim didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table like he was physically holding himself back.Jason sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, if you’re that worried, I’ll sign something. Jason P. Todd assumes all risks of getting his brain fried by Tim in Roy’s shitty hideout. Will that make you feel better?”Tim let out a sharp breath, somewhere between a scoff and a bitter laugh. “You’re an idiot.”Jason grinned. “Yeah, but you love this idiot.”Tim rolled his eyes, but the fight in him had dulled just slightly. He grabbed the electrodes, hesitating only a second before stepping forward. Jason held still as Tim placed them carefully, his touch precise but tense.Tim’s hands hovered over the switch, hesitating. “Jason,” he said, voice softer now. “You don’t have to—”“I do.” Jason cut him off, meeting his gaze with raw, unwavering resolve. “Do it.”Tim swallowed hard, then flipped the switch.Jason’s body seized, his muscles locking up as the current ripped through him. His back arched violently against the chair, a guttural scream tearing from his throat, raw and pained. The electrodes sparked faintly, the jarring hum of electricity filling the room, blending with Jason’s agonized cries.
“Singing don’t worry… ’bout a thing… ‘Cause every little thing… gonna be all right…”
Roy tensed, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Jason wasn’t supposed to sound like that. His screams were raw, pained—nothing like the fearless, cocky bastard he knew. His stomach twisted as he turned to Tim, voice edged with panic. “Tim, this—this doesn’t look right—”“I know what I’m doing,” Tim snapped, his eyes locked onto the monitor, watching the vitals, tracking every reaction with an almost inhuman level of control. But his hands trembled slightly, betraying the calm facade. Still, watching Jason suffer through it was something else entirely.Roy clenched his jaw, glancing at Jason’s trembling frame, at the way his fingers clawed at the chair, white-knuckled.
“Rise up this morning… Smiled with the rising sun…”
Roy stood frozen a few feet away, his hands clenched into tight fists, his breathing shallow. He couldn’t take it anymore. “Tim!” he snapped, voice tight with barely restrained panic. “Are you sure this is treatment? Because it sure as hell looks like you’re killing him!”Tim’s hands were steady, but his jaw clenched. “His vitals are holding. The seizure is controlled. I calculated the exact voltage necessary.” His voice was flat, clinical—like he was trying to detach himself from what was happening in front of him.Roy stared at him like he was insane. “Tim, he’s in a whole lotta pain—”“I know,” Tim snapped, eyes still locked on the monitors. His fingers hovered over the switch, ready to cut the power if anything went wrong. “But this is how it works. The electricity disrupts the neural pathways—the ones the trauma rewired. It’s meant to reset them.” His voice wavered just slightly, betraying the iron wall he was trying to keep up. “He knew it was going to hurt.”Jason let out another ragged, broken scream, his entire body trembling violently. Roy felt his stomach twist, and for a second, he thought he might be sick.Tim didn’t blink, didn’t move away. He just watched, his grip on the machine tightening.Roy exhaled shakily, his voice quieter now. “And if it doesn’t work?”Tim swallowed hard. “Then we find another way,” he said, but there was something hollow in his voice, something that made Roy’s blood run cold. Because the way Tim was looking at Jason—the sheer weight of guilt and desperation in his eyes—Roy wasn’t sure Tim would ever forgive himself if this failed.
“Singing sweet songs… of melodies pure and true…”
Jason was drowning in it—the current, the memories, the whispers of a ghost that refused to let go. He saw the chair, the crowbar, the sickening grin that had haunted him since the day he died. His breath hitched, his mind flashing between past and present, the agony of then and the desperation of now.But somewhere, beneath the haze of pain and static, he heard it—soft, distant, but there. The song.
“Don’t worry… ’bout a thing…”
It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a solution. But it was something to hold onto.And Jason held on. Gotham – Unknown LocationPresent21:07(A song is accompanied with this scene, link at the end.) The water was scalding, steaming around Damian as he sank deeper into the oversized marble tub. Candlelight flickered, casting golden highlights over the surface of his submerged body, the flames swaying with the soft hum of ‘Ethereal Sonata from the Shadows’ playing in the background. The music was haunting, slow, and aching—so unlike him, yet it was all he could stand to listen to in moments like this. Moments where silence was unbearable, where his thoughts refused to be still.‘Jason.’ God, how he obsessed over him.He had gone an entire day without him, and already, it was driving him mad. The scent of leather and gunpowder still lingered in his mind, the echo of Jason’s voice in his ears—gruff, teasing, daring. And then there was his body.Damian clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as he tilted his head back against the cool stone edge of the tub. His fingers twitched beneath the water, restless. Jason’s body had fit against him perfectly, the way their muscles tensed and moved together, the way Jason reacted to his touch—every tremble, every sharp breath, every damn sound. Damian had memorized it all.He had felt Jason fall apart beneath him. He had watched him fight against it, resisting until Damian stole his restraint away, piece by piece. It had been intoxicating. And now?Now, he wanted him again.Damian exhaled slowly, attempting to suppress the heat curling in his stomach, but the memory was relentless. Jason’s body beneath him, warm and strong yet yielding in ways Damian had never expected.He remembered how tight Jason had been, how his body had trembled with each thrust, and how his moans had filled the air. The sounds of Jason's pleasure still echoed in Damian's mind, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire. He wanted to experience that again, to feel Jason's body wrapped around him, to hear those moans and see the look of pleasure on his face.Damian's hand began to move of its own accord, stroking his hardening cock as he imagined ravaging Jason once more. He pictured himself taking Jason, pushing him to the limits of pleasure and pain. The thought sent a thrill through him, and he felt his arousal grow.As Damian's eyes closed, he let himself become fully immersed in the fantasy. He imagined Jason lying beneath him, helpless and submissive, begging for mercy as Damian took him again and again. The image was intoxicating, and Damian's breathing grew heavier as he stroked himself faster.His mind replayed the memories of their previous encounter, the way Jason's body had trembled beneath him, the way his moans had filled the air. Damian's desire for Jason grew stronger with each passing moment, and he could feel his restraint wearing thin.He wasn't sure if he could wait much longer to have Jason again. The thought of claiming him once more was almost too much to bear. Damian's hand moved faster, his strokes becoming more urgent as he chased the release that seemed just out of reach.Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Damian reached his climax. His body jerked violently as he came, his muscles tensing up as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. He stroked over the sensitive spot one last time, driving his orgasm further and prolonging the sensation.The water surrounding him seemed to grow warmer and more buoyant as he floated there, lost in the aftermath of his release. Damian's chest rose and fell with ragged breaths as he slowly began to come back down to earth.As he lay there, surrounded by the soothing water and the silence of the bathroom, Damian couldn't shake off the feeling that this was only a temporary reprieve from his desire for Jason. He knew that it wouldn't be long before he needed him again.A sharp knock at the door disrupted his thoughts. Damian’s eyes snapped open, his breath controlled but his irritation barely concealed. He hated being interrupted."You've got the worst timing..." Damian huffed."I'm sorry sir, I shall-""Report." His voice cut through the dimly lit space, steady, commanding.The door opened just enough for Zahir to enter, immediately kneeling. "Sir, Two-Face has been intercepting your plans. We have a location for his next shipment. It’s in an hour."Damian let out a slow breath through his nose, centering himself. Business. Duty. That was supposed to be his focus. But even as he stood, water cascading down his sculpted form, Jason’s presence still clung to his mind."Zahir, gather some men." He grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist in one fluid motion. "We are getting rid of Two-Face tonight."Zahir nodded and swiftly disappeared to carry out his orders.Damian exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. He had work to do. There were plans to execute, enemies to eliminate. But beneath it all, in the spaces between each breath, Jason was there. Always there. And the next time he saw him… he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back. Gotham – CityPresent22:39 The night air was crisp, laced with the ever-present scent of rain and Gotham’s filth. Jason perched on the ledge of an old fire escape, scanning the streets below as he rolled his shoulders, testing the soreness that still lingered in his muscles. The aftereffects of the ECT therapy clung to him like a phantom—his thoughts felt sluggish at times, his body heavy in ways he wasn’t used to. He wasn’t even sure if the damn treatment was working. But he wasn’t the type to sit around waiting for answers.So, he was out here, doing what he did best.His eyes narrowed as movement caught his attention—figures slinking through the shadows of a back alley, their movements too disciplined for common street thugs. He watched as they exchanged brief, deliberate gestures before continuing forward. Jason’s instincts flared. These weren’t just any gang members.Getting closer, he recognized the way they moved—efficient, silent, predatory. Assassins.Damian’s assassins.Jason grit his teeth and began trailing them, keeping to the rooftops, his boots soundless against the concrete. If these bastards were in Gotham, it wasn’t by accident. Whatever Damian was up to, Jason was damn well going to find out.Just as he prepared to drop down for a better vantage point, a strong hand shot out of the darkness, gripping his leather jacket and yanking him into the shadows. His back hit the brick wall before he could react, and a familiar voice hissed near his ear.“What do you think you’re doing, Jay?”Jason smirked despite himself, even as his pulse spiked. “Trailing your little murder squad. You wanna tell me why they’re slithering through my city?”Damian’s grip didn’t loosen. His emerald eyes glinted in the dim light, sharp and unreadable. “Go home, Jason. This isn’t your fight.”Jason scoffed, shoving his arm away. “Yeah? See, that’s where you’re wrong, brat. Everything in Gotham is my fight.”For a moment, they just stared at each other, the tension thick between them, the city humming around them.Then, somewhere in the distance, a gunshot cracked through the night, and both of them turned toward the sound.Jason exhaled sharply. “Guess we’re doing this together, huh?”Damian’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t argue. “Just don’t get in my way.” He simply turned, disappearing into the shadows with practiced ease.Jason followed.The night was chaos.The alley was dark and damp, the stench of gasoline and rotting garbage clinging to the air. Jason and Damian pressed themselves against the rough brick wall, hidden just beyond the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp.Below them, in the warehouse’s shadowed loading bay, a group of Two-Face’s thugs huddled around a stack of crates, their voices low but urgent. Jason adjusted the position of his helmet slightly, amplifying the sound through his comms. Damian, beside him, remained deathly still, his sharp eyes locked on the scene below.“Boss says the shipment’s comin’ in tomorrow night,” one of the men grunted, lighting a cigarette with a shaky hand. “Pier 16. We offload fast, get it to the East End before the Bats catch wind.”Another thug, broader with a jagged scar running down his jaw, scoffed. “You think they don’t already know? Word is, Two-Face ain’t just movin’ product this time. He’s settin’ a trap. Bats show up, we put ‘em down for good.”Jason exchanged a glance with Damian, whose expression remained unreadable, though Jason could see the tension in his shoulders.“You think the coin’s gonna let him go through with it?” the first thug asked, exhaling a plume of smoke.The scarred one chuckled darkly. “Don’t matter. The boss already decided. The coin was just for show this time.” Jason felt his jaw tighten. That wasn’t good. If Two-Face wasn’t relying on the coin, that meant he wasn’t hesitating. This wasn’t just some petty arms deal—this was calculated.Damian turned his head slightly, speaking just loud enough for Jason to hear. “We need to move before this shipment arrives.”Jason nodded, but his eyes stayed locked on the group below. “Yeah, but I wanna know what kind of –” he froze.Before Damian could respond, the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking echoed through the alley.“Looks like we got ourselves some eavesdroppers,” a voice sneered from behind them.Jason sighed. ‘Of course.’“Hey, uglies—put your hands up!” A grunt drawled, tilting his head as he sized up the two men in front of him.“Ey we ain’t fucking pigs, why’d you say that for? Just shoot ‘em!” A thug questioned.Another thug gawked, eyes wide with panic. “It’s freaking Red Hood! And… and some kung-fu funny-looking guy!”Jason snorted, a laugh bursting out before he could stop it. He doubled over slightly, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s gonna stick.”Still chuckling, he whipped out his guns, leveling them at the gang. His stance shifted, casual but dangerous.His grin widened. “Now… which one of you fuckers was calling me ugly?”Damian exhaled sharply. “Tt. Amateurs.”And just like that, the fight was on.Jason and Damian moved like twin storms through the alley, bodies dropping around them as they tore through Two-Face’s thugs with brutal efficiency. It wasn’t a planned team-up—Jason had just been in the wrong place at the right time, and Damian, well… Damian had business there.Jason fought with his usual reckless brutality—cracking skulls, disarming guns, unloading precise, measured shots into kneecaps and shoulders. Damian was a blur beside him, weaving between opponents with ruthless speed, his sword flashing under the dim streetlights. They weren’t working together, exactly, but they weren’t working against each other either. It was instinct, honed from years of knowing how to fight, how to win.Then Jason saw it. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glint of a muzzle flash from the rooftop above—a sniper, trained directly on Damian. The angle, the trajectory—there was no time to warn him. No time for Damian to dodge.Jason didn’t think. He reacted.He raised his gun and fired. The bullet met the sniper’s shot mid-air with ungodly precision, sending it off course. It ricocheted, embedding harmlessly into a brick wall instead of Damian’s skull.Damian stilled for a fraction of a second, his eyes flicking toward Jason before snapping up toward the rooftop. His sword was already in motion, flung with deadly accuracy, impaling the sniper’s shoulder and sending him crumpling out of view. Jason watched carefully as Damian had avoided lethal blows during this fight. The fight was over moments later, the last of Two-Face’s men groaning in the dirt. Jason reloaded his gun, rolling his shoulders as he exhaled sharply.Damian was still looking at him.Jason arched a brow. “What?”“You shot a bullet out of the air.” Damian’s voice was flat, but there was something else there. Something unspoken. “That should have been impossible.”Jason smirked, holstering his gun. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m good like that. You’re welcome, by the way.”Damian was silent for a beat. Then, with the smallest nod, he turned away. “Tt, I didn’t need your help.”Jason let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re welcome again, brat.”The last of Two-Face’s thugs hit the ground with a dull thud, groaning in pain as Jason cracked his knuckles. “Well, that was fun,” he muttered, shaking off the adrenaline as he turned toward Damian, who was already walking away.Jason smirked and fell into step behind him. “You know, for someone who told me to ‘back off’ earlier, you sure didn’t mind me saving your ass tonight.”Damian didn’t break stride. “I warned you once, Todd. Do not involve yourself in my business.”Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, all ominous and broody—real original. Hate to break it to you, little king, but Gotham’s my city.” ‘Little king,’ Jason called him, his voice dripping with amusement. Damian stiffened, his face flushing in embarrassment as the memory hit him like a blade through his chest. He could still hear Jason’s laughter from all those years ago, the way he had mercilessly teased him when he was just a child boasting about his destined throne.“Tt,” Damian scoffed, shaking off the warmth that crawled up his neck. “Still calling me that? I’ve clearly proven you wrong.” His chin lifted slightly, his posture straightening as he now stood taller than Jason, if only by a fraction.Jason snorted, eyes flicking up to meet his with a mischievous glint. “Yeah, you gotta thank your old man for that one,” he said, crossing his arms lazily over his chest. “But you’re still a brat, so I’m sticking with little king.” Damian’s eye twitched. He had killed for lesser insults, yet somehow, Jason Todd had a way of making even the most infuriating nicknames sound almost... endearing. Almost.“You do realize I could break your ribs again for that,” Damian said, voice edged with a warning, but Jason only grinned wider.“Yeah? Go ahead,” Jason challenged, leaning in ever so slightly. “I’d like to see you try, your highness.”Damian clenched his jaw, but the corners of his mouth threatened to twitch into a smirk. Jason always knew how to get under his skin, but deep down—deep, deep down—Damian didn’t mind. Not when it was him. The night air was cool against Damian’s skin as he moved effortlessly across the rooftops, his body a blur of controlled power. Jason followed, his footsteps heavier but just as sure, his voice cutting through the wind.“You know, for someone so dramatic, you’re not great at storming off,” Jason called, smirking as he leaped onto the next building. “Could at least give me a villainous monologue or something.”Damian didn’t respond. He didn’t slow down. He just kept moving, ignoring the burn in his legs and the way his chest ached with something far more suffocating than exertion. He couldn’t go back to his new hideout, not with Jason on his heels, not with the way his emotions were clawing their way to the surface. So, without thinking, he changed course, letting muscle memory guide him to a place he hadn’t stepped foot in for years.Dick’s old apartment in Blüdhaven.When he landed on the fire escape, the metal groaned beneath his weight. He slid the window open, slipping inside with practiced ease. The air was thick—stale with dust and time. The space was unfamiliar now, filled with furniture that didn’t belong, lived in by people who weren’t him. Dick hadn’t lived here for years, yet somehow, the memories still clung to the walls, refusing to fade.Jason landed behind him with a dull thud, nearly barreling into him when he stopped abruptly. “Jesus, warn a guy before you slam the brakes,” Jason muttered, brushing dust off his jacket. Then he looked around, brow furrowing. “Wait…this is—”Damian turned sharply, cutting off Jason’s words. His fists clenched at his sides, his breathing uneven as he fought something deep and raw inside him. Jason barely had a second to react before Damian grabbed him by the front of his jacket and yanked him forward.And then he kissed him.It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was heat and desperation, frustration and unspoken words. Jason barely had time to process.Damian pulled away just as suddenly as he had closed the distance, his breath uneven, eyes dark and unreadable. His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go, fingers still curled in Jason’s jacket like he wasn’t ready to let go of whatever had just happened between them.It wasn’t careful or hesitant—it was desperate. A collision of heat and tension, of unspoken thoughts neither of them had dared to voice before.Jason froze for a split second, his mind catching up to what was happening. He had thought about this—more than he cared to admit. And from the way Damian clung to him, like he was afraid Jason might pull away, he knew he wasn’t the only one.So he didn’t pull away.Instead, he sank into it, his hands gripping Damian’s waist, fingers digging into fabric as he kissed him back just as fiercely. The city around them faded, lost in the space between breaths, in the way Damian pressed against him like he was trying to memorize the shape of him.When they finally broke apart, Damian’s breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide. Jason stared at him, his own heartbeat hammering in his chest.Jason let out a breathless chuckle, his voice rough with amusement. “Is there some League training for kissing?”Damian huffed a quiet laugh, his lips curving into a smirk. “No,” he murmured, his tone dripping with smug confidence. “I’m just that good.”Before Jason could retort, Damian’s hands slid down, gripping his ass with a possessive squeeze as he pulled him closer. “You should run.” The warmth of his breath ghosted over Jason’s skin, sending a shiver down his spine, “I’m having thoughts of ruining you again.” Then, without hesitation, Damian pressed his lips to Jason’s neck, sucking hard before sinking his teeth in just enough to make Jason hiss.Damian’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing with unspoken questions. He had expected Jason to shove him away, to scoff and call him insane for even thinking this could be something real. Instead—“Last time, you did as you wanted,” Jason murmured, fingers threading through Damian’s hair, tugging just enough to make him still. “How about we set some boundaries this time?”Damian’s breath hitched, his pulse stuttering at Jason’s words. He hadn’t anticipated this—hadn’t expected Jason to stay, let alone bring up control and limits like he was considering something deeper than impulse.“Why?” Damian asked, his voice lower than he intended, husky with emotion. He searched Jason’s face, looking for a flicker of hesitation, for an answer beyond the words. Was it the way Damian had kissed him? The way he touched him? Or was it something more?Jason held his gaze, steady and unyielding. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just feel like I need to do this. I’ve been thinking about you.”The confession settled in Damian’s chest like a burning coal. His breathing quickened, heat creeping up his neck. He wanted Jason—had wanted him for longer than he cared to admit—but more than that, he didn’t want to push him too far, too fast.“A safe word.” Jason suggested. Gotham – Arsenal’s CribPast - Approx. 4 Hrs Ago17:06(A song is accompanied with this scene, link at the end.) The dimly lit safe house smelled of antiseptic and burnt coffee, remnants of two hours watching over Jason. Tim, Roy, and Jason had been through hell before, but this was different. Jason had been subjected to an experimental treatment meant to stabilize his volatile condition—both physically and mentally. But no one expected this.Roy’s speaker continued to play music, a playlist he had thrown together—mostly a chaotic mix of rock, rap, and the kind of music he thought would fit what they were doing today. The next song kicked in with a sharp beat, the unmistakable opening notes of Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself.’Then Jason’s body suddenly went rigid.His eyes rolled back, and a violent tremor ripped through him, his muscles locking up before the seizure took hold.“Shit—Jason? Jason!” Roy was on his feet in an instant, knocking over a chair as Jason’s limbs slammed against the recliner, convulsing uncontrollably.Tim reacted instantly. “Roy, move everything away from him—now! He’s having a seizure, and he could hurt himself.”Roy hesitated for half a second before his instincts kicked in, shoving the table aside, knocking away anything in Jason’s reach. “Damn it, I hope you know what you’re doing, Tim! He’s never done this before!”
“You better lose yourself in the music, the moment, you own it, you better never let it go…”
Tim clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay focused. “I’m just trying to help him—I know this is a long shot, but I have high hopes that it'll work,” he muttered, grabbing a bag of Keppra, the emergency seizure medication. He had it prepped just in case.Jason’s limbs jerked violently, his body fighting against itself, his boot nearly cracking Roy’s shin as he thrashed.The pounding bass throbbed in the background, an eerie counter-rhythm to the sheer chaos in the room.“Hold him still!” Tim barked, spiking the IV line and forcing the needle into Jason’s arm. He barely had time to tape it down before Jason jerked again, nearly ripping the line free.Roy dodged a flailing elbow, gritting his teeth. “Hold him still?! He’s built like a damn tank, Tim! If he punches me in the face, I swear to God, I’m kicking your ass after this.”“Just keep him from ripping out the line!” Tim shot back, his voice edged with frustration as he flushed the IV tubing, pushing the drug in fast. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, each second stretching endlessly.Jason’s movements were erratic, violent, his head snapping back against the floor with a sickening thud that made Roy wince. His breath hitched, sharp and uneven, lips parted like he was choking on air.Tim pressed two fingers to Jason’s neck—his pulse was racing, too fast.“Come on, Jay, breathe,” Tim muttered, gripping Jason’s arm tighter, his own breath coming in short, clipped bursts.
“You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow, this opportunity comes once in a lifetime…”
Jason’s body twitched one last time, then slowly began to settle.The convulsions weakened, his limbs still trembling, but no longer thrashing. His breath remained heavy, labored, but the worst of the seizure was finally passing.The room, once filled with panic and chaos, faded into a heavy silence—only Jason’s uneven gasps and the beat of the song filling the air.Tim exhaled sharply, his hands trembling as he adjusted the IV, making sure the flow was steady.“Hey, big guy,” he called out, voice softer now, but firm. “You with us?”Jason blinked sluggishly, his eyes unfocused, still clouded and disoriented. His chest rose and fell like he had just run a marathon. Sweat clung to his brow, his pupils still slightly blown.Then, his lips parted, and in a hoarse, barely-there voice, he muttered:“…Did I win?”Roy let out a breathless, half-disbelieving laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “Oh, you asshole. Yeah, you won—knocked over half the damn room in the process.”Jason’s gaze flickered to Tim, still dazed. “T-Tim?”Tim leaned in, his voice steady but tight. “I’m here, Jay.”Jason blinked again, sluggish and worn down. His lips parted, but at first, only a ragged exhale escaped. Then, with effort, he slurred out,“Did… Did I just do my best impression of a fish out of water?”Tim huffed out a shaky chuckle, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. “Something like that.”Jason squinted, struggling to focus. “…Slim Shady? Excellent choice.”Roy exhaled sharply. “You scared the shit out of us.”Jason hummed weakly, barely conscious. Then, with a lazy, lopsided grin, he muttered,“Guess I like to keep things interesting.”Tim shook his head, exhaustion settling in. “Yeah, well, next time, try not to almost give us a heart attack in the process.”Jason let out a rough chuckle, but his head lulled to the side, fatigue dragging him back under.
“The moment, you own it, you better never let it go…”
Tim checked the IV one last time, making sure the Keppra was doing its job. The song played on, its relentless beat pounding like the adrenaline still coursing through them.Roy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So what now, Dr. Drake?”Tim sat back, exhaling deeply. “Now? Now, we wait.” He glanced at Jason, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. “And when he wakes up… we figure out what the hell is happening to him.”Two hours have passed after Jason’s seizure had been tense. Tim had monitored him closely, making sure his vitals stabilized, while Roy paced like a caged animal, muttering under his breath. The safe house felt suffocating, the weight of what just happened still pressing down on both of them.Then Jason sat up, stretched his arms with a groan, and immediately declared, “Alright, I’m heading out.”Tim’s head snapped up from his spot at the table, where he’d been scribbling notes about Jason’s condition. “What?”Roy, who had finally slumped onto the couch, blinked at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry—what the hell did you just say?”Jason rolled his shoulders, testing his limbs as if shaking off the last remnants of his seizure. “I said I’m going out. Nothing crazy. Just some light work—classic drug trades, knocking around a few dealers. You know, the simple stuff.”Tim’s fingers tightened around his pen. “Are you kidding me?”Roy sat forward, throwing up his hands. “Dude, you just had a full-on seizure. You’re not going anywhere.”Jason scoffed, waving a dismissive hand as he stood. “It was a fluke. A one-time thing.”Tim shot to his feet. “You don’t know that! You could have another one at any time, Jay. You could be mid-fight, mid-chase—what happens if you seize up while some punk has a knife at your throat?”Jason shrugged, slipping on his leather jacket as if they weren’t in the middle of an argument. “Then I guess I take the hit.”Roy stood too, glaring. “Oh, screw that! You wanna go out there and get your ass killed because you’re too damn stubborn to sit still?”Jason sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “You two need to relax. I feel fine. Besides, this is literally what I do. What’s a little post-seizure fatigue in the grand scheme of Gotham’s crime problem?”Tim’s jaw clenched, trying—and failing—to keep his voice level. “This isn’t a joke, Jason. Your body needs time to recover. If you keep pushing yourself—”Jason cut him off with a smirk. “Then what? I’ll drop dead? Wouldn’t be the first time.”Roy exhaled sharply, muttering a curse under his breath. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”Jason grinned. “Yeah, but you love me.”Tim pinched the bridge of his nose, willing himself to stay patient. “Jay, I get it. I know you hate feeling weak. But ignoring this isn’t gonna make it go away.”Jason sighed, heading toward the door. “Not ignoring it. Just… not letting it run my life.” He flashed them a lopsided grin. “Besides, if I do drop, at least I’ll make it interesting.”“Oh, and don’t think about following me, or I’ll put a cap in both your asses.” And with that, he walked out the door before either of them could stop him.Roy groaned, flopping back onto the couch. “I really hate him sometimes.”Tim exhaled, already pulling out his tracker. “Yeah. So do I.”They both knew Jason wasn’t gonna listen.