Chapter Text
Tim’s beside was the first place Jason went after he got back. He should have headed to the showers first to get the sweat and blood off of him, but Tim was more of a priority. The only thing he did before wandering into the medbay was put down the medical bag near the lockers.
The kid definitely wasn’t all… there, but he was certainly awake. He took one look at Jason and blinked sluggishly. The action was so slow that Jason could have sworn one eye blinked before the other did.
“You’re… red?” Tim slurred. He cocked his head to the side like the bird he was.
Jason couldn’t help the little chuckle that left his lips. He was indeed red in more ways than one. He clasped his hands behind his back so that the kid couldn’t see the blood that had seeped into his gloves. “Wh’re am I?”
“You’re in the medbay, baby bird.” Jason explained gently.
He wasn’t really expecting Tim to be awake yet. He would have assumed that Alfred would have texted him to let him know. Instead, Jason walked into a Tim that was off of the medication keeping him in the coma.
Tim nodded, then smacked his lips. Then, he murmured, “Wanna… ea’ the red. Why m’ I seein’ red?”
Jason let his laugh spill out of his lips at that. Seeing the kid awake and speaking settled something inside of him.
“Eat the red?” Jason repeated. He had almost forgotten this fun little part of having a Batconcussion: the nonsense the concussed person slurred. It had been a while since he was around someone with one. With the fear from having Tim hurt and broken in an empty alleyway removed, it was entertaining to listen to the kid ramble. It also helped that Tim wasn’t mentioning the bike anymore. “What’s red that you want to eat, baby bird?”
“The pasty,” Tim confidently said. Jason chuckled again. He could assume Tim was talking about some kind of pastry that Alfred had made. “An’ zesti. Lottsa lottsa zesti.”
“You’re not going to be allowed caffeine for a while, Master Timothy.” Alfred commented as he came back into the medbay.
“Wh’re am I?” Tim asked, which made Jason’s heart drop a bit. Of course, he would continue to ask that. He was still out of it from his concussion. Tim probably wasn’t very cognizant right now. His head rolled around on the pillow. Were it not for Jason’s current state, he would have jolted forward to fix it. The kid shouldn’t have been putting pressure on his head wound like that.
Jason turned his shoulders to face Alfred instead. The man made quick work of entering the room and situating Tim’s head properly again.
“You’re in the Batcave,” Alfred said like he’d already explained this before. “You were hurt.”
“Pat’ol?” Tim asked, voice still slurred.
“Oracle sent us the video surveillance,” Alfred said confidently. Jason shifted on his feet. “Both from traffic camera’s as well as your mask.”
Alfred turned to Jason then, pointedly looking him up and down. His facial expression when he was done didn’t look disapproving, but it wasn’t exactly an all-clear either. “Go wash up, Master Jason. You’re contaminating my medical bay.”
And that was all he said. Nothing about who’s blood Jason was currently drenched in. Not even a small question if any of the blood was Jason’s. Jason should have figured this would happen. Babs wouldn’t have given Jason the location without also updating Alfred. Their grandfather knew all, whether they wanted him to or not. Jason couldn’t help but feel glad that Alfred knew. He would understand where Jason was coming from with what he did, even if Bruce didn’t.
Jason turned around and left the medbay. He headed for the showers to cleanse himself of what he had done. It was a trial to get himself pealed out of the gloves and blood-soaked clothes. He piled them up in the corner and decided that it would probably be best to burn them.
The armor he could clean. The fabric would be difficult and time consuming. It would be easier to just cremate them along with Gerry’s fingers. That would completely disintegrate the evidence of tonight. He already could assume Babs took care of any security footage as well. After the burning, it would be like Jason was never there.
Once he got under the spray of the water, he found it difficult to get out. Jason washed all the blood off of him, smoothing his hands over his chest. His soapy fingers scrubbed his face, over and over again. He needed to make sure that all the blood spatter was gone. As the steam rose in the shower, the water going down the drain turned more clear and less red. The rest of his green-tinged anger dissipated with the disappearance of blood. He hung his head, letting the water soak into his hair and drip down off his nose.
Jason had done all that he could to punish the man who almost killed his brother. While he probably went too far, the guy had deserved it. He would check in on Gerry again later to make sure he had learned his lesson. He didn’t think he would have to hurt Gerry again, considering how much he already did to the guy. Unless he had some kind of traumatic reaction that made him forget everything, Gerry would likely be deathly afraid of the Red Hood for the rest of his life.
He got out of the shower and dressed in comfortable clothes from his locker. As he walked out of the shower area, he used the towel around his neck to dry off the rest of the water from his damp hair. Jason immediately went back over to the medbay area to check up on Tim again.
Only, when he got there, the kid was asleep again. Jason deflated. He took too long in the shower. He stared at Tim’s sleeping face for several moments before he realized that Alfred was in the room as well.
“Alfie?” Jason asked. He stepped further into the medbay.
The man paused his organizing and looked up at Jason. Alfred looked him up and down before nodding. “I see you’ve cleaned up, Master Jason.”
Jason ducked his head guiltily. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking. I saw the kid was awake and…”
“I understand, chum,” Alfred nodded again. To Jason, the way Alfred said that sounded like more than just understanding for Jason’s reaction to seeing the kid awake. He turned back to look at Tim. Jason had to blink a few times to clear his blurry vision. “He’s doing alright, if you were wondering. Just asleep, now. I predict he’ll be out of it for at least a few hours yet, though.”
Jason nodded. He took a few steps closer to the kid so he could stand at his side. With nervous energy he didn’t know what else to do with, Jason busied himself with fixing the blankets to cover Tim more. He really didn’t need to. It felt nice, though, to take care of the kid he would do anything for.
“I took the liberty of using one of our machines to retrieve the remains of your motorbike,” Alfred mentioned. He tilted his head toward the exit of the medbay. “Its near the rest of the vehicles, waiting for you.”
Jason nodded silently and swallowed the lump in his throat. He brushed the hair out of Tim’s eyes, sure to not touch the bandages around the kid’s head. Then, he turned and left toward the vehicle dock.
It wasn’t difficult to find the ‘bike.’ The way Alfred described it was correct. Jason came to a stop, standing over the decimated remains of what was once Veronica.
He ran his hands through his wet hair. This bike was the first one he refurbished. It took longer than any of his other bikes as he retaught himself the ins and outs of a motorcycle engine. Jason couldn’t bring himself to be upset that it was gone.
The bike had done its duty. Jason couldn’t be angry at how Tim was able to get free of the goons chasing him using the bike. The thing that did have anger bubbling in his blood was how the bike then proceeded to almost kill his little brother. Sure, a lot of that fault was squarely on the shoulder’s of Gerry, but Jason already punished him. The anger was still there.
Jason raked his eyes over the parts laid out on the ground before him as that anger simmered. He could see the pieces that he could theoretically reuse. There was enough working parts here that he could rebuild her with enough time, effort, and parts.
The stuttered, sobbing apologies Tim had made while concussed and trapped under these mangled remains forced themselves to the forefront of Jason’s mind. The anger at Tim’s injuries vanished, replaced by overwhelming guilt. Tim never should have been so afraid of Jason.
Jason shuttered, composure breaking. He swallowed down the bile that threatened to rise at remembering the fear in those words. He didn’t know exactly what he had done to make Tim so afraid. Jason blinked harshly, trying to stop the train of thought before it made him loose his stomach again. He already lost it once because of them. He didn’t need a repeat.
Tim had said so many times that he’d fix this bike, that he would make sure it ran like new. He promised would never touch another one of Jason’s bikes once he was finished. Jason couldn’t have that. Using Jason’s bike had saved Tim’s life once already, even if that specific bike had managed to almost end it.
He squared his shoulders and leaned down to the mess of metal.
The kid had been under the impression that Jason would want him to fix it so it could work again. That promise had been fueled by terror at Jason’s reaction to the mangled bike. It was all Tim could think of that would fix Tim’s ‘mistake.’ But this wasn’t Tim’s mistake, nor did the bike need to work again. Veronica had been a good bike for Jason—a good escape route for Tim—but she wasn’t needed any longer. This bike had done its duty.
He grabbed the keys that lay to the side and tucked them into his pocket. He got up and grabbed his box of tools. Then, Jason started sorting the parts that could still work from the ones utterly destroyed.
Veronica could live on as pieces to fix other bikes. Jason didn’t need the bike whole to remember it. Besides, the fact that the bike had almost killed his little brother was enough that Jason never wanted to ride it again.
After getting all the parts he could salvage settled in a pile apart from the rest, Jason grabbed the cloth out of his toolbox to wipe most of the grease off his hands. He stood up, cracked his back, and went back over to the medbay to check on Tim.
Jason didn’t actually enter the room this time, cognizant of the fact that he was covered in grease and oil now. Alfred had left at some point during Jason’s scavenging, and Tim was still asleep.
The kid looked peaceful with his face smoothed out, even with the bandage wrapped around his head. Jason knew better. He had held together the wound that laid underneath the medical gown he wore. He clenched his teeth and turned back around.
Jason had a trip to the scrapyard to make.
The scrapyard in Park Row was the only scrapyard that Jason frequented.
He was fairly positive that he was the only Bat that actually went to scrapyards. Jason was sure that Bruce would never have any of his gadgets or vehicles found in one of these, thanks to his paranoia. Jason didn’t make it a habit to let any of the upgraded pieces of his bikes make it here, too, but made it a point to drop off the run-of-the-mill motor parts. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that.
It also helped that seeing the Red Hood here in this lot had stopped a lot of the stabbings that used to happen in the area. That, and the number of needles littered about greatly decreased once he was able to point those he found dosing to safe injection locations.
Jason dumped the dufflebags he was carrying onto the ground once he found a good spot. He rolled his shoulders, glad to have the heavy weight off of them. He opened the left bag and was immediately greeted with a lighter, tinder, bloody clothes, and a clear bag full of red.
This scrapyard wasn’t only good for getting rid of metal scrap. This was Park Row, after all. The Red Hood could only do so much, and he wasn’t about to make kids having harmless fun here stop doing that. No one would think twice about an extra burnt spot.
Jason spread the tinder he brought in his chosen spot. He lit the fire easily and let it burn for several moments. He threw the clothes on next, letting the fire eat at it and grow. Then, he opened the bag and dumped the flesh scrap into the flames. He was glad for his helmet again. He wouldn’t have to worry about breathing in through his nose. The scent of burning blood couldn’t get to him behind the helmet’s filter.
As that was burning, Jason went back to the dufflbags and grabbed a part out of the open one. He tossed it in the air, caught it, then turned it over in his hand.
These were the parts that had failed. These scraps of metal once held his little brother underneath their weight, trapping Tim and crushing him. They spun out of control and gave Tim a concussion and a cranial bleed so bad that Alfred had to put him under.
Jason gripped the metal piece tightly so tightly in his hand that he swore he could hear creaking. He didn’t know if it was his bones or the metal. The memory of holding Tim while he slurred about breaking something important flashed in Jason’s memory. Jason had asked about bones then, but the concussed Tim didn’t think that was important.
His little brother didn’t think his injuries were important. The only thing Tim had been focused on was appeasing Jason’s anger.
He pulled his arm back and threw the metal piece as hard as he could. The throw released some of the terror and disgust that had made its home in Jason’s chest. He breathed heavily as the metal clanked hard against something in the distance. Jason hurriedly grabbed another throwable sized piece of bike. He aimed it this time, straight for a half-crumpled car. It shattered what little was left of the car’s windshield.
As the pile burned in the distance, Jason took out the rest of his lingering anger on the pieces left. This bike had crushed Tim. It had made him so afraid of Jason that he stopped thinking of his own injuries, instead only babbling about what he would do to fix things. Jason threw what he could, then when the pieces got to large, he grabbed his crowbar and started smashing. Jason accented each hit of metal on metal with a grunt, a scream, or a sob.
Jason never should have allowed Tim to ride Veronica. He understood how difficult it was to turn. It was one of his fastest accelerating bikes, but that didn’t matter if it was too unwieldy to control. Tim was taught how to ride by Dick, who had taught Jason once upon a time. Tim should have had the skills necessary to have been able to turn out of the way of Gerry’s stupid fucking car. If Jason had fixed the bike properly, or kept it stashed away only for his use, this never would have happened.
Sure, Gerry was at fault for not caring to watch for bikers on his joyride. Jason made sure he paid that price. But in reality, the true fault landed squarely on Jason’s shoulders for not making sure that Tim had a safe enough bike to ride when he was in trouble.
Jason threw down the crowbar. He heaved in stuttering breaths as he fumbled with the latches on his helmet.
Once it was off, the smell of burnt flesh immediately bombarded his nose. Jason didn’t care about that. That was his punishment for letting Tim crash. He tore off the domino that covered his eyes, grateful for the sting against his skin. It was easy to take off thanks to the moisture that his eyes was providing.
Jason wiped the tears out of his eyes. He didn’t come here to have a pity party. He came here to get rid of the bike and the fingers that almost killed Tim. He kicked one of the tires from the bike with as much strength as he could muster. He shoved the domino back onto his face, not caring that the residual adhesive barely stuck to his face.
He headed back over to the fire. It was dying down, now. Only a few embers were left. Jason grabbed the plastic bag that lay beside it. He lit one of the corners with the lighter, then dropped the thing over what remained of the fire. He watched as the flames ate up and melted the plastic.
Jason stayed there, staring at his arson until it fully died down. Once all that was left was burnt embers, Jason finally turned away.
He went back over to the dufflebags. Jason overturned them and dumped the rest of the scrap onto the ground. The crushed front of the bike fell out and landed with the scratches upwards. Jason couldn’t help but count all thirteen of them. His lip twisted and wobbled. Jason lopped up a wad of saliva in his mouth, then spit down on the destroyed piece.
Jason crammed the helmet back on his head.
Tim wasn’t awake when Jason came back again.
That was alright. Jason didn’t want to be reprimanded by Alfred again because he entered the medbay when he was dirty. Instead of having a repeat, Jason stood outside the doors to verify that Tim’s heart was still beating. After he did that, he headed straight for the showers.
This shower was much quicker than the other one he took today. Most of it was making sure that no grease or oil was stuck to his hands. He lathered his fingers and palms, making sure each and every stain was gone. Once that was done, he moved the suds up his arms to eat at the grease stuck in his arm hair.
He probably could have gotten away with viciously washing his hands, but Jason wanted to be thorough.
Jason moved his clean, soapy hands over his water slick chest. It was nice to get all the sweat off his body as well. He’d gotten a bit worked up at the scrapyard. Jason would bet anything that he was more than musky underneath his Red Hood uniform after all that throwing, breaking, and smashing.
He got out of the shower once he was satisfied. Jason dressed and got into the medbay much sooner after he arrived than last time. He hunkered down in the chair beside Tim’s head and began his wait.
The kid looked so small on the medical cot. Jason rested his chin in his hands and watched Tim’s chest rise and fall. All of the anger that he had been feeling these past forty-eight hours had dissipated out of him.
Jason just felt drained, now. He didn’t think he would be able to move himself out of this chair for anything else than a very, very good reason. That may have had something to do with the fact that he hadn’t slept since the night before Tim got hit.
“Master Jason,” Alfred greeted as he walked in. He stopped walking. Jason could feel Alfred’s eyes on him as he did a double take. “Have you slept at all?”
“No,” Jason admitted. He kept his eyes on Tim. “Tim’s more important.”
“He is safely situated. The bleeding in his brain is fixing itself and under control,” Alfred placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Master Tim will be alright. You on the other hand, need to rest.”
“I’ll rest after he wakes up again, okay?” Jason tried to barter. “I just…”
Jason looked back to Tim’s sleeping form. He couldn’t get out of his head the look on Tim’s face as he apologized over and over again. Jason knew it was selfish of him to put his own health at risk until he could make Tim understand that Jason wasn’t angry with him. He just couldn’t stand the thought of Tim waking up and still being afraid of Jason.
It was probably what would happen. Tim was very concussed when Jason found him. He would be very surprised if Tim remembered any of their conversation.
“I understand, Master Jason,” Alfred said when Jason didn’t continue. He wasn’t sure if the man was just saying that or actually felt it. He was too tired to figure out Alfred’s tone. “You care for your brother. But think about how he might feel if he discovers that you’ve stayed up for so long on his account.”
“It’s the least I can do,” Jason countered. “I scared him so much, Alfie.”
Alfred was silent for a moment. It was then that Jason realized he had no knowledge of what his and Tim’s conversation was before he had arrived. “He thought I’d be mad at him for crashing the bike.”
“Master Tim has always had a… skewed outlook on where he is on our priority list.”
Jason moved his hands from his chin to his forehead. His hair was still a bit damp. “I can’t get that look he gave me outta my head. I just… I need to make sure he knows he’s more important than a machine before I sleep.”
“Alright, Master Jason,” Alfred exhaled heavily. “I will put on a spot of tea.”
Jason looked up to give his grandfather a thankful look. “Thank you, Alfie.”
Alfred left Jason to watch over Tim. He took his job seriously. He checked the kid’s breathing, sutures, and IV drip in a rotating order. It really was the least Jason could do. Sure, he got revenge for Tim against both the bike and the guy who hit him. That was enough to make up for letting Tim drive a bike with difficult steering in the first place. Now was making up for not noticing the fact that the kid had been stabbed. Tim had been bleeding out in Jason’s arms, and he hadn’t even noticed it until Alfred got there.
Speaking of the man, Alfred returned a short while later laden with a tea tray. Jason stopped his anxious checking of Tim’s IV when the metal clanked down on the counter. Jason looked over to find Alfred had brought two tea cups, and had brought several pastries as well.
A small smile rose to Jason’s lips. He retook his seat and allowed the butler to serve him. After Alfred got Jason his tea and pastry, he grabbed the other chair in the room and placed it at the foot of the cot. He served himself, then sat down in the chair.
Jason ate a pastry first, only now realizing just how hungry he was. The jam inside was blackberry, likely picked from the bushes on the grounds. He hadn’t eaten anything for as long as he hadn’t slept, so he ended up devouring it in only a few bites. The first sip of tea washed it down nicely.
“A breakfast black?” Jason asked. He took another sip, trying to decide exactly what kind of black it was. He was so tired he was having trouble deciphering the flavors.
“It is five-forty in the morning, Master Jason.” Alfred responded. Jason hid his sheepish expression by drinking more of the tea.
“Wassit?” Tim groaned from the bed. Jason immediately set his teacup down and leaned forward.
“Timmy?” Jason asked. Tim rolled his head to the side to face Jason. The kid’s eyes were open, but they weren’t looking at anything. “Hey, you with us?”
“Wh’re ‘m I?” Tim asked. His eyes drifted down to look at Jason, but he had the distinct feeling that the kid was looking straight through him.
“You’re in the Batcave, Master Tim,” Alfred sat up and leaned over to check Tim’s pupil dilation. “You took quite a tumble.”
Tim nodded slowly. He tried to get away from Alfred’s pen light, but the man’s steady hands kept Tim’s head facing forward. Once Alfred was done, Tim turned his head back toward Jason. Once again, Jason felt like a ghost.
Tim scrunched his hands over the medical cot’s blankets. “R’ugh.”
Jason blinked. That was something that he could fix immediately. He got up out of his chair and quickly made for the cabinet in the room. Even back when Jason was Robin, this particular cabinet was stocked with blankets. Jason had even put in a few of his own.
He dug to the bottom of the cabinet until he found his favorite blanket. It was old, and had lost most of its fuzzy softness, but it was definitely better than the thin sheets on the cot. That, and the sentimentality of it did wonders.
As Jason placed it over Tim, he idly wondered if he ever had before. Before tonight, he hadn’t really made it a habit of visiting the kid when he landed himself in the medbay. Jason needed to change that.
“Better?” He asked after he got Tim situated under the blanket.
The kid rubbed his hands over it. He tilted his head to the side. “Whe’e am I?”
Jason’s heart sank. He turned to Alfred, a little desperate. Tim was reacting worse than he had the first time he woke up. Was that possible? Last time, he had only repeated that question once. Then again, Jason wasn’t actually around for very long last time that Tim was awake. He could have been repeating the question for longer than Jason was aware of.
“You’re in the Batcave, Master Tim.” Alfred said calmly. Jason took the cue from the man and sat back down in his chair. If Alfred wasn’t worried, there was no reason for Jason to be. “You took a tumble.”
“Hmm,” Tim hummed. He continued to rub his hand over the blanket. “Bad patrol… then… sumthin’ else.”
“Oracle sent us the video surveillance,” Alfred said as he checked up on Tim’s IV drip bag. “Both from traffic camera’s as well as your mask.”
Alfred turned to look at Jason at that. It was the second time that Jason heard Alfred say that, but the first time that Alfred had looked at him like that. Jason couldn’t help but duck his head back into his tea. He already knew that Alfred watched that footage while Jason was gone. Based on how he had been reacting to Jason since he got back from his visit with Gerry, Alfred was probably aware of the lengths Jason went for that as well.
“Blanky’s… o’er washed.” Tim slurred, still hyper-focused on the blanket Jason put on him. His head bobbed as he tried to keep his eyes open.
“Rest, Master Tim,” Alfred leaned down and brushed the kid’s hair out of his face. “We will be here when you wake up.”
Tim nodded. “O’ay. Love you.” Jason’s heart clenched. He couldn’t help but wonder if Tim would have still said that if he was cognitive enough to realize that Jason was in the room.
“I love you too, chum.” Alfred replied easily. Tim fell back into an uneasy slumber. Alfred took up his chair at the foot of the bed and picked up his teacup again.
The pair sipped tea and ate their pastries in silence for several minutes. When Jason only had a few more sips left in his cup, he broke the quiet. “How many times do you think he’ll wake up still disoriented?”
“There is no true way to know,” Alfred said. He sipped his tea as he thought. “He could wake up cognizant next time, or he could still be unaware. It is simply a waiting game, now.”
Jason nodded. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known that. When he sat down in this chair, he had expected to stay there for hours until Tim was cataloging memories again.
The next time Tim woke up, he decided to be concerned about food. He kept mentioning the ‘red pasty,’ which Jason now assumed to be a raspberry or strawberry version of the pastry Jason just ate. When he wasn’t talking about that, Tim was focused on the blanket again. It seemed to be a theme. He would run his hands over the washed-worn fabric, then mention is favorite blankets upstairs.
It got to a point were Jason decided that the best course of action was to go upstairs and grab them for the kid. He wanted Tim to be as comfortable as possible when he was cognizant again.
Finding the blankets Tim had been rambling about wasn’t as easy of a feat as he assumed. He checked the kid’s room first, but the only blanket to be found in there was Tim’s comforter. Jason looked through the den and most common used sitting rooms next. He grabbed a few blankets that were similar—and some that Alfred had knitted—but they weren’t the Batman one that Tim had been rambling about.
By the time that Jason was checking the North Library, he had a small collection of blankets in his arms. He finally found the Batman blanket draped over a chair by the fireplace. Jason tucked his chin over the blankets to keep them in his arms as he ducked down to grab it.
Jason rushed back down to the Batcave. He had been gone for too long, searching around the manor for these blankets. He hoped they were a good enough peace offering for Tim.
“I got blankets his spoiled ass won’t complain about,” Jason said as he pushed through the curtains that cut Tim off from the rest of the medbay. He eyed Tim as he dropped the small pile on the kid’s chest. There seemed to be more light in his eyes. It was the first time that Tim had looked directly at Jason since he had started waking up. “You lucid?”
“I’m so fucking sorry,” Tim said. The look in his eye turned more and more desperate the longer he kept talking. “I—The driver—This guy, he just came outta nowhere and I shouldn’t have been driving her that fast—”
“It’s fine, Timbers.” Jason cut the kid off. His stomach was already turning again, and Tim had barely even gotten started. The guilt and disgust that coursed through Jason as Tim apologized didn’t lesson after Jason had punished the man responsible.
It never would. Jason had yet to punish himself for allowing Tim to drive his worst handling bike.
Jason leaned forward and pulled the blankets wrapped around Tim’s legs off the cot. He dropped them on the floor, then started the task of getting the new blankets situated. Tim’s body settled in, going limb after Jason got him bundled. His hands instinctively gripped at the edge as Jason pulled the blankets to up to his chin.
“Careful of your stitches, Master Tim,” Alfred said. Jason nodded in time with the warning. “Those took some time.”
Jason blinked, and behind his eyes, he saw Tim on the operating table. Jason’s hands had been covered in his little brother’s blood as a result of stitching him back together.
“It’s fine?” Tim said. Jason knew that was a lie. Then again, Tim wasn’t awake for those hours that Alfred and Jason spent making sure he wouldn’t bleed out. Tim shifted so the blankets couldn’t catch the sutures. Then, he turned back toward his older brother. “Jason, you loved that thing.”
“Yeah, and it almost killed you,” Jason refuted. He wouldn’t allow his mind to change about what he said next: “So now it’s in the scrapyard. I mean, I pulled a few pieces from it and kept the keys, but other than that.” He patted Tim’s ankle. The kid didn’t need to know the specifics of Jason’s crash out at the scrapyard. He smiled, a bit strained, instead of mentioning it.
“I… What?” Tim spluttered. It carved at Jason’s chest to see the kid so confused again. Alfred stood from his seat, so Jason took his spot seamlessly. His own chair had been moved back to where Alfred’s chair previously was. That was good. Tim would hopefully be more comfortable with Jason farther away.
“I’ll be upstairs, if you boys need me,” Alfred patted Jason on the shoulder, then exited the area. Tim watched him go. Before the kid can get anything out of his open mouth, Alfred cut in: “I already have your favorite snacks warming, Master Tim. You were quite adamant about that.”
Tim’s face flushed. Jason smiled warmly, remembering the ramblings that Tim likely didn’t.
“Thanks, Alfie.” Jason said before Alfred disappeared.
He turned his full attention to the kid on the cot. Jason curled his hand protectively over Tim’s ankle. He needed that reassurance that Tim was breathing, heart pumping. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Jason still saw Tim pinned underneath that bike.
It was obvious that Tim was uncomfortable. Jason had to keep reminding himself that Tim had no recollection of what happened after the crash. His brain injury wouldn’t allow him to remember. Still, the way that Tim’s heart monitor was increasing with each passing second made Jason’s heart rise into his throat.
Tim was uncomfortable because he was scared of Jason. More accurately, he was scared of Jason’s reaction to Tim crashing the bike.
Jason made sure he looked relaxed and unbothered. It would be a trial to convince Tim that his bikes didn’t matter as much as he did. That idea was so ingrained into Tim that he primarily babbled about it when Jason first found him.
“You’re weirdly calm,” Tim said. He shifted as much as he could while being cognizant of his stitches. His hands gripped the blankets on top of him in a white-knuckle grip. “How worried should I be?”
“Not worried,” Jason said in the smoothest voice he could muster right now. He scrambled for a better explanation, because surely Tim—afraid of Jason, Tim—would need more than that. “Like… Me and you having a movie night levels of worried.”
“I…“ Tim choked. The look on his face was straight disbelief. Jason kept his breathing even and concentrated on not squeezing Tim’s ankle too hard. “Jason, you do know what happened, right?”
“You were on patrol, had to shake some bad guys and you used Veronica to do it. Some asshole in Park Row had thought he would take his girl for a joyride at the same time and hit you. Then he ran off,” The memory of Gerry tied up and bloody rose to the forefront of his mind. “I took care of that bit after Alfred got you stabilized.”
“The bike.” Tim’s voice was as hollow as bird bones. Jason wanted nothing more than to not have this conversation again, but Tim needed it. He needed to know that Jason didn’t give a flying fuck about the bikes in comparison to Tim.
Jason gave Tim a tired smile. It had the affect that Jason wanted: Tim relaxed and eased up his grip on the blankets.
“Like I said: it’s a machine. I can get a new one.” Jason patted the ankle he was holding again, then sunk into the chair. Hopefully, now that Tim was awake and aware, that was all Jason needed to say.
Tears prick in the corner of Tim’s eyes. He raised the blanket and wiped them against his face. Jason leaned forward, ready to sit up and go to Tim. He held back, though, purely to let Tim process this on his own.
Jason had no idea how long Tim had been thinking that he was less important than some metal contraptions. If Jason were in his shoes, he would need a moment to come to terms with the idea of being loved before being swarmed with it.
Something similar happened to Jason the first time he realized that Bruce wasn’t going to hurt him. Tim deserved to have this time for his thoughts. It killed Jason to sit there and let his little brother cry, though.
Tim hiccuped and burrowed his face in the blanket. The grip he still had on Tim’s ankle tightened infinitesimally. Tim’s shutters turned into muffled sobs, thick with both tears and fabric.
“Oh.” Jason broke. A few tears were one thing, but sobbing was another. Tim needed comfort, and Jason was more than willing to provide. He released Tim’s ankle and was moving closer in a heartbeat.
Jason crawled up onto the cot onto Tim’s less injured side, getting himself flush to the kid. Once Jason was settled, Tim immediately latched onto him. He buried his face into Jason’s neck in tandem with Jason’s movement to wrap an arm around Tim’s shoulders.
“It’s alright,” Jason shushed. He brought a hand into Tim’s hair, carefully avoiding the bandages. “Hey, it’s okay. It really was just a dumb bike. If it’s between you and one of my beautiful, gorgeous, motorcycles—” That pulled a laugh from Tim. Jason’s chest warmed with the sound. “—You make sure you’re the one surviving every time.” Tim nodded against Jason’s neck. Good. The kid needed to understand that. “I’d much rather have you.”
“Got it,” Tim mumbled. His words were more slurred now, but only from fatigue. “Can I sleep?”
“Alfred gave you the all clear, yeah.” Tim hummed at Jason’s answer. Jason started humming Dick’s lullaby again in an effort to help the kid slip into a peaceful sleep. He kept up the movement of the fingers in Tim’s hair, reveling in the action of comfort instead of pain.
It wasn’t long until Tim slipped off into sleep again. Jason tried to keep up his song. With the warmth of Tim against him and the rhythmic beating of Tim’s heart—and the heart monitor—Jason’s own fatigue caught up with him. It was alright. Tim was safe and loved in his arms, and better yet, he understood that. Jason drifted off with his lips pressing against Tim’s head, content that his little brother was safe.