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Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “Where ya tryna get to?”
“Gotham,” the man replied. “I need to–” he paused, looking a bit lost. “I’m going to Gotham.”
Jason reached over and popped the handle of the passenger door. “I’m heading that way,” he offered.
The man’s face immediately brightened. “Really?” he questioned, already making his way toward Jason’s truck. “I don’t carry cash, but I can Venmo you. I would’ve called an Uber but I can’t get a single out here.”
“Nah, it’s cool, man. I’m headed that way,” Jason repeated.
Relief washed over the man’s face making a bit of pride swell in Jason’s chest despite himself. It felt nice, kindness.
“Dude, you have no idea how much I appreciate this. My little brother’s got a performance tonight and I promised him I’d be there.”
Grabbing his bag out of the passenger side footwell, he tossed it into the back. “It’s not a problem, honest.”
Jason watched as the man climbed into the cab of the truck and pulled the seatbelt across his chest.
“Whatcha headed to Gotham for?” the man asked. “Don’t see many people going towards Gotham.”
His eyes stayed on the road despite the desire to look at the person he’s talking with. He hated car conversation for that exact reason, and he had an even deeper loathing for small talk.
“Goin’ home,” Jason admitted.
The man smiled. “I grew up in Gotham. Well, mostly. My name’s Dick, by the way. Short for Richard.”
“Interesting choice. John,” he offered in return.
It was about a twenty minute straight shot from their location to the city, so the sooner they got past the pleasantries the better. “Why you walking the highway so late at night? I’d say you couldn’t catch me dead walkin’ out here at this hour, but that’s about the only way you’ll catch people in this fucking hell hole.”
“My car broke down. I’m on my way to my brother’s school. He’s in play and it’s opening tonight.”
Jason’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Hate to break it to you dude, but it looks like you’re gonna be a bit late.”
Dick chuckled. “Yeah, but it’s showing again next week. I just feel bad because I told him I’d be there.”
Guilt. Seeking absolution.
“I’m sure he’ll forgive you,” Jason assured, a bitter taste in his mouth.
“I know he will. I still feel bad about it, though,” he revealed before releasing a drawn-out sigh. “Music?”
“Radio’s broken,” Jason lied. “Just picks up static. Was gonna retrofit one of those fancy ass new ones, but I haven’t had the time.”
Dick shot him an incredulous look that made Jason’s heart hurt. “You’ve just been out here raw dogging every car ride? No music, no background noise, nothin’?”
“Hey, I could play music from my phone.”
“That’s so much worse. Please tell me you don’t do that. You know what?” he said, voice taking on an all too familiar teasing tone. “Pull over. That’s crazy people behavior. I’m not sure I want to be alone in a truck with you anymore.”
The road was vacant, almost eerie. They had yet to pass another driver, and Jason couldn’t see one ahead. But it was still dangerous. Deer and other wildlife like to cross the road when they were least expected. The concentration required to keep them safe was the only thing grounding Jason’s thoughts.
He wanted Dick to shut up so he could pull himself together but going silent now would be suspicious. Establish a rapport.
“And how do I know you’re not a–what did you call it?–’crazy people’? I just literally found you on the side of the road.”
Dick raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, you would know if my story didn’t check out. You had to have seen my car a mile or two back from where you picked me up.”
Jason hadn’t seen Dick’s car. Not that he’d tell Dick that.
“True, but the odds of this being an elaborate trap to lure unsuspecting drivers to their grisly demise? Anywhere else I’d say slim, but this is Gotham.”
The easy rhythm of banter that they fell into made Jason a little queasy.
“Ya caught me. This was all a ruse. I’m secretly a serial killer.” He put on a showy accent and continued. “You’ll never make it out of here alive.”
“Yeah, well–” Jason spared a glance at the passenger’s seat, but it was empty.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “Where ya tryna get to?”
“Gotham,” Dick said.
“Hop in then. I’m headed that way.”
Dick’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he climbed into the cab nonetheless. “Dick.”
“John.”
“What’s got you headed to Gotham, John?” Dick asked conversationally.
“I live there. You?”
“Visiting my brother. He’s got a play tonight.”
Jason nodded like he didn’t already know. “What kinda play? Know I don’t watch it, but I’m a big theater nerd.”
Dick’s face lit up like his little brother was his favorite topic. “He’s playing Puck in A Midsummer Night’s Dream . I’m not really the biggest Shakespeare fan. I can hardly understand modern English sometimes, but I muddle my way through the whole thing so I’d be able to follow along tonight. He’s been working on it for months and even helped with the set and costumes.”
And–and–he hadn’t known that. Dick read A Midsummer Night’s Dream ? Dick wasn’t one for reading in English. He preferred German translations or even Spanish if he could get his hands on them. They’d jokingly argued about Dick’s open hatred for Shakespeare on many early mornings and late nights in the little library. The main library was too close to Bruce’s study.
“He’s so proud of this and I’m so proud of him. He was worried about fitting in at his new school, but I think he really found his people. And those pretentious kids whose only examples of a human people are their rich asshole parents can be fucking vicious. I’m just so happy to see him happy. I’m so proud of him.”
Still gathering himself from the barrage of information, Jason didn’t respond.
“Shit, I’m sorry, man. I just started rambling like sap about my brother when all you asked about was the play.”
Jason couldn’t keep the small smile from his face. “Nah, it’s alright. I’ve got a couple of siblings, too. I get it.”
Dick never got to meet Tim, Damian, Duke
Figure out what he needs.
“So, this brother of yours,” Jason started, “You guys close?” Subtle. Very subtle,
Dick huffed out a little laugh. “I appreciate it, but we don’t have to talk about my brother if you don’t want to.”
Fuck. Did you even consider that maybe you’re dead and we need to talk about you and your shit? No? You inconsiderate fuck.
“My radio’s broke and we’ve still got a ten-minute ride ‘til we hit the city. I’m down to talk about anything as long as it kills the silence,” Jason tried.
Nice recovery, dumbass.
“In that case,” Dick started, predictably unable to keep from gushing about the people he loves. “I’d say we’re close. Not as close as I’d like to be, but I’m trying to take it slow, give him space. I don’t want to overwhelm him. This play is a big step, I think. I wanted to jump for joy when he invited me, but I’m a cool brother and I didn’t want to embarrass myself, so I played it off. Smiled and nodded.”
Why was Jason the one out here doing this? He knew, logically, that it could only be him, it had to be him. But that didn’t make it any easier.
He wasn’t sure what to say to that, but he had to say something. This wasn’t going anywhere, and Jason was running out of time. Dick wouldn’t remember any of it anyway. “I used to do everything I could to impress my older brother.”
Dick didn’t respond but Jason could bring himself to look to his right.
“I think maybe I still do,” he admitted, somehow sure that he was once again alone.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “Where ya tryna get to?”
“Gotham.”
The truck door opened with a creak. “I’m headed that way.”
Dick settled into the passenger seat.
Jason was getting serious deja vu. Which attempt is this? Three? Three hundred?
“You got a name?”
“Dick,” the passenger introduced.
It’s not like Jason didn’t know that, but Dick didn’t know that Jason didn’t not know, and Jason was really trying to be subtle. But he hasn’t slept well the last few weeks.
“Jason,” he responded, too tired to realize his mistake fast enough to stop it.
Fuck.
“Hey, that’s my brother’s name.”
I know.
“Ya know, you look kinda like him. If he was a couple of feet taller, two hundred pounds heavier, and grumpy.”
It was a joke. Jason knew it was a joke. It made his stomach sour, and his heart rate speed up, anyway.
“Yer brother’s short, skinny, and happy?” he asked, hoping it came out normal.
Dick grinned. “Yeah, that about covers it. He’s got the biggest heart and he’s so damn smart. I’m so proud of him, ya know?”
Jason’s throat was tight, his shoulders tense. Ninety percent of his focus was on not freaking Dick out and the other ten percent was on the road. It’s not like Dick would remember this anyway.
“I don’t have any siblings,” he opted instead. It was easier than the truth.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “You headed to Gotham?”
Great job, Jason. That wasn’t creepy at all.
Realistically that was a normal question to ask. It implied that Jason was headed to Gotham and could only take Dick if he was going that way. It wasn’t creepy.
Dick smiled, good-naturedly. “Yeah, I can pay when we get closer to the city and my phone gets a couple bars.”
See, he didn’t think it was creepy.
Jason felt creepy anyway. And he felt like a liar. And, honestly, he was starting to think Bruce was a fucking idiot and they should have called Constantine. How the hell was he supposed to pull this off without revealing anything to Dick.
Hi, Dick! I’m a random ass person with absolutely no connection to you and by the way you're totally not dead and stuck haunting the highway you died on for over ten years so if you start to think that, don’t.
“Get in,” Jason invited. “Name’s John.”
“Dick.”
He didn’t try to make conversation even after he started driving again and neither did Dick.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway… and kept driving.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “Where ya tryna get to?”
He shouldn’t have gone out tonight. Fresh off a fight with Bruce, both saying things they didn’t mean and some things they really, really did. There was some sort of morbid comfort in the familiarity, the pattern. Every year ‘round this time it was the same thing. Bruce drowned himself in scotch that was worth more than Jason could sell his fucking kidneys for and Jason, equally bereaved but significantly more sober would foolishly attempt to convince Bruce to spare his fucking liver and it would inevitably devolve from there.
So he was angry and frustrated and–and there was a gaping hole in his chest where his older brother once lived despite knowing him for such a short time. It was obvious that he’d been crying, hastily dried eyes still red.
Anyone else, alone on the side of the road outside of the most dangerous city on Earth would have been put off by a two hundred-and-fifty-pound, emotional man but not Dick Grayson.
Jason watched as concern flooded Dick’s face with the sinking feeling that it wasn’t for his own safety.
“You doin’ alright, man?” Dick asked instead of fucking running like a normal person would.
No, I’m not doin’ alright.
A sickening thought slipped through Jason’s careful but frail mental fortitude. Was this how he died? Being kind to the wrong stranger?
“No,” Jason admitted. “My brother died.”
Dick’s frown deepened, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows, as if he could feel the emotions Jason was. “Mind if I sit? I’m a great listener. And you can kick me out after. No obligation.”
Yes, yes, I mind. I want to be alone, and I want you to be here but not this you, the real you. And I want you to stop getting into random cars but it’s too fucking late for that.
Jason opened the door.
“It was a while ago,” Jason explained. “I just–I just miss him.”
“Must have been quite the guy.”
God, this is so fucking morbid.
He needed therapy because that would go over so well. “Yeah, Doc. Been picking up my dead brother on the highway trying to help him move on but on day I was real particularly shitty, so I invited him into my truck to talk to him about himself except he doesn’t know who I am and he doesn’t know I’m talking about him and oh, yeah, he doesn’t know he’s dead.”
Uh huh, great option. He should try that later.
Jason cleared his throat, “He was… better than the world deserved. I didn’t know him for very long, but I know that.”
“I can’t imagine. My brother–I dunno. If anything happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do.”
This is so fucked. Jason tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Pointer, middle, ring, pinky. One. two, three, four. But what the fuck does it matter? Dick doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anyway.
“I lost my shit for a while. Did some stuff he wouldn’t be proud of.”
He felt relief at Dick’s lack of platitudes. There was no I’m sure he’s proud of you or don’t punish yourself. Thank fuck. What the fuck would he know about it anyway, except for everything and nothing at all. It wasn’t his damn business except that it was all about him and how dare he ask Jason about it except for it was Jason that was spilling his guts.
Fuck.
Instead, Dick said, “Do you think he’d be proud of you now?”
Jason swallowed thickly, resisting the urge to look over and search Dick’s face for the answer he knew he wouldn’t find. “I, uhh, yeah. I hope so, yeah.”
“Then what does it matter what you did ‘for a while’?”
Leaning over, Jason rested his forehead on the wheel. If it did anything to hide his tears then all the better, but that’s not what he was trying to do, not really.
It didn’t matter anyway, because this wasn’t real. It was, of course, but it wasn’t. Because Jason could almost– almost– feel the comforting warmth of one of Dick’s “patented big brother hugs” . Except he couldn’t.
Because Dick and Jason weren’t having the same experience. Jason… Jason was talking to his dead brother. Dick was hitching a ride from a shady stranger.
Last time Jason let Dick see him cry, they went out for ice cream and had a long conversation about family on the rug in front of the library fireplace. This time, Jason wiped away his tears on the sleeve of his hoodie, closed his eyes tight, took a deep breath in and squared his jaw.
“I’m only headed to Gotham, I can take you that far,” he said, knowing only one of them would ever make it.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. beside him a red sudan.
Fuck.
He was only a few minutes later than usual. What’re the fucking odds?
Dick was harmless beyond a little scare at city limits. But every fuck up like this was a missed opportunity for Jason and increased the risk of someone saying the wrong thing at the wrong time and traumatizing Dick’s spirit.
It was rare to see another driver. This highway led straight into Gotham. Nobody goes into Gotham. Not on purpose.
Goddammit. God-fucking-dammit.
It really wasn’t that big of a deal except for the part where it was. Except for the part where the more people that knew about Dick the more rumors that circulated and the more rumors that circulated, the more people that would come looking. More people that don’t know how to handle an earth-bound soul.
And if they traumatized Dick’s spirit, he could turn malevolent and then they’d really have to call Constantine. Not to help Dick, to get rid of him.
So, really, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Everything was going to be fine, afterall, he’d be back tomorrow.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man.
“Hey, I need to get to Gotham,” Dick said.
It was one of the few times Jason didn’t speak first. In fact, so long had passed since the last time it happened that Jason’s brain sort of short circuited for a second.
It was gonna be one of those nights. It was always one of those nights.
One of those nights when Jason picked Dick up on the side of the road except he wasn’t Jason but Dick was still Dick. One of those nights where Jason lost himself a bit. Where it felt like he was in the car with his big brother on an ordinary night, on an ordinary road. Just two ordinary people. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that Jason wasn’t fourteen anymore and Dick wasn’t alive.
Sometimes it was so easy to forget why he was here. It was one of those nights.
He swallowed down a quip that he knew Dick would appreciate coming from Jason. Except Jason wasn’t Jason, not now.
“Yeah, man. Sure, I’m headed to Park Row, I can drop you any time before that,”
Dick’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “You have no idea how much you're helping me right now,” he admitted.
If my track record is anything to go by, not at fucking all.
The whole Jack, John, Jim, Josh bit was getting old. This whole thing was getting old. Every year for over a decade Jason would drive out here every single Autumn night and pick up his hitchhiking dead brother. And nothing changed. Nothing got better and nothing got worse.
Perhaps it was the stillness of it all that really got to him, the stagnation. Motionless, inert, static, dead .
Perhaps it was the stillness, so often associated with the calm of tranquility with the peace of serenity, becoming a void he was trapped in.
“I’m Jason,” he said, this time on purpose.
“Dick. Ya know, you’re the second person named Jason I’ve talked to today.”
No, I’m not. I’m the same Jason you talked to on the phone today except I’m not because that conversation was over ten years ago.
“Really?”
Watching Dick’s face light up forced Jason to look back out at the road. He hadn’t started driving yet, waiting for Dick to buckle up. It was preposterous, really, making sure a dead guy adhered to road safety measures, but it made Jason feel better, even if it reinforced his vague sense of delusion.
“Yeah, my little brother called me today to make sure I’d be able to come to his play. That’s where I’m goin’ right now, actually. My car broke down a couple miles back and I can’t get service out here for shit.”
Jason put the car in drive and started their twenty-minute journey. Maybe nothing would come of it. Just like last night and the night before. But at least it was almost like talking to his brother again.
[-]
Jason idled in the parking lot of the BatBurger on the outskirts of Gotham. If he didn’t leave soon, he’d miss the window of opportunity. Dick always appeared around sunset, and it took about twenty-five minutes to get to where he usually turned around. Head out too late and he’d risk passing Dick on his way out there.
He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel tight enough that the pad of his thumbs nearly grazed the second joint of his middle and forefinger.
Letting his eyes slide shut, Jason inhaled through his nose and slowly released through his mouth. Once. Twice.
His phone buzzed in the passenger seat. Undoubtedly Bruce wanting him to confirm he was on his way out.
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
The keys taunted him in the ignition. His phone mocked him at his right.
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
Maybe just this once. Maybe just this once .
It was tempting. So very tempting. Maybe just this once . It would be so easy to slip the keys into his pocket, send a disingenuous confirmation text to Bruce, get a burger and not think about any of this shit for the night. Just one night. Maybe just this once .
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
He screwed his eyes shut just for a second. Just for a second. Then straightened his spine, loosened his wrist, and started backing out.
Maybe next time .
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man.
“Gotham?” he offered.
Fuck Bruce and what he thought Jason should do. Fuck him and his entitled bullshit. Jason was the one out here nearly every goddamn night. Not Bruce. Not Constantine who was much better suited for this shit than Jason.
Nothing Bruce told him to do was fucking working and Jason was on this last thread of sanity. He couldn’t keep doing this.
He understood the consequences if he fucked up. He did. So, he started slow.
Jason sorta zoned out through the beginning stage of pleasantry exchange.
Gotham, introduction, my brother’s play, my car broke down, I don’t have cell service, I’ll send you money.
That’s where I’m headed, what play’s he doin’, no one gets reception on this stretch of highway, don’t worry about it, man.
They skipped the bit, this time, about his radio being on the fritz, because he left on. Something small. Something that would prevent them from having the same conversation over and over and over and over ago. Something to spark Dick’s memory. Anything at all. Anything that wasn’t nothing. That wouldn't work, because Dick didn’t remember anything from night to night, but maybe it would. It was better than the nothing that followed his last fifty going on five hundred trips.
They didn’t do much talking after that, content with the pop-punk station Jason chose. Deliberately, chose.
“Happy Saturday PKX listeners. PKX, your favorite place for pop punk and beyond. Up next we’ve got Sum 41, Good Charlotte and much, much more.”
This was it. The moment everything changed. They finally get to the crux of the issue, Dick would learn the truth, let go of whatever was keeping him here and move on to wherever was next.
Dick shifted a bit, looking slightly perplexed. “Hey, man, where’s this station out of?”
“College about a town over.”
“Huh,” Dick remarked, but didn’t elaborate.
Jason felt the weariness seep even further into his bones.
[-]
He wasn’t going tonight.
Of course, the radio thing didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. Why did he think it would? Dick’s gotten into plenty of strangers' cars over the years. Plenty of people who didn’t lie about their radio being broken or use fake names.
Maybe Jason’s finally lost his fucking mind. That was it. That had to be it. A few crayons short of a box. Off his rocker. He’s got bats in the fucking belfry.
And he wasn’t going tonight.
He was tired. Life was taking a toll. And he wasn’t going tonight.
Even if he left now, in his comfy house clothes with no shoes on, he wouldn’t make it in time. Dick was already out there, as if he ever really leaves.
He planned to go. Of course he had. He knew what time the sun set today, what time he needed to leave his apartment, what time he needed to leave Gotham to get a little over twenty minutes outside the city limits, turn around and pick up Dick before anyone else could get to him.
But as the time ticked closer and closer, Jason didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t move an inch. Didn’t turn over once his phone reached enough charge that he could unplug it. Ignored it when it buzzed with what was inevitable a text from Bruce wanting to know if he was on his way.
The time he was meant to leave came and passed.
His alarm reminding him to leave the designated BatBurger parking lot and hit the highway rang and rang and rang until eventually it stopped.
The sunset, bringing with it a mosaic of colors and then telling darkness. He was too late. But that was okay–it wasn’t–because he wasn’t going tonight.
Instead, he was lying in bed, not doing much of anything really, except not going tonight.
He laid there long enough for his bones to grow creaky and his muscles to protest. Long enough for his mind to wander. Long enough to ponder if maybe he was the dead one.
Dick was dead, of course Dick was dead. Stuck in a loop. Stuck on the same twenty-minute stretch of highway. Forced to live the same experience over and over and over. But if that was the criteria for death, then Jason certainly qualified.
Three months out of the year, the same three months as Dick, he was stuck in a loop, although his extended beyond the highway.
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
Every day between the end of summer and the dawn of winter. Every day between the end of summer and the dawn of winter.
Except for tonight. He wasn’t going tonight.
[-]
Bruce was angry at him. Jason was angry at himself. He was going tonight. Nothing changed.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man. “Where ya tryna get to?”
“Gotham Academy.”
“Ya look a little old for that,” Jason teased. The laugh he got in return almost made these trips not awful. Maybe this time would be different. It wouldn’t, but maybe it would.
“It’s for my brother,” Dick explained.
This was going nowhere. Jason was getting nowhere. Dick was still here and Jason was still here and this was going nowhere.
How long was he gonna have to do this? The same questions over and over. Twenty minutes to Gotham, every night until when? Until what?
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
The rest of the ride was silent.
[-]
Jason slowed as a lone figure began to take shape on the side of the quiet stretch of highway. A hitchhiker. Rolling down his window as he came to a stop, Jason was face to face with the man.
“Need a lift?”
Dick smiled. “Into Gotham if you're headed that way.”
Gotham was the only way this road headed, but he supposed that was just one of those things people say.
Jason unlocked the doors with an audible click, and invitation to enter.
Opening the door, Dick climbed in the passenger seat. “Thanks, man.”
He debated driving versus idling. Dick has never tried to get out of his truck before, Jason didn’t even know if he could.
This was going to be different; Jason would make sure of it. Resettling his hands at ten and two, the decision made itself. He couldn’t risk Dick making a run for it. Not that he’d make it twenty miles up or down the road.
Bruce may never talk to him again. Jason was alright with that. This had to end. It had to end.
No guide existed to advise him on how to do it. A missing chapter in the handbook of propriety. But Jason waited a minute or two for them to settle into each other's presence before saying, “You’re dead.”
He couldn’t bring himself to check. To make sure Dick hadn’t disappeared. To make sure he hadn’t traumatized Dick’s spirit irreparably.
“I know,” Dick said.
Jason nearly slammed on the brakes but managed to slowly bank to the left and stop the truck before he did anything irrational. Leaning his head against the steering wheel, Jason didn’t say anything. Dick didn’t either.
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
His head was spinning just a bit, lightheadedness replacing his previous anxiety and apprehension.
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
Finally, he said the only thing his brain could muster. “Okay.”
A few seconds passed, then a few more. He didn’t raise his head.
Dick didn’t make a sound. Jason wasn’t sure he was still there.
Once…
Twice…
Alright. Alright. Come on Jason. Last one. Last one.
Thrice…
He sat up and turned towards the right. Dick was looking at him, his expression soft with kindness and understanding.
In a different world Jason would be angry. In a different world Jason would bombard him with questions and accusations.
What happened to you?
Why are you stuck here?
Have you known this whole fucking time?
But this wasn’t a different world.
“Okay.”
Dick shifted, unbuckling his seatbelt to meet Jason’s eyes. “What are you doing here, Jay?”
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
“Whaddya mean what am I doing here? You’re here!”
Dick’s face didn’t change. Kindness and understanding. “I am,” he observed.
“And you’re dead!”
“I am.”
“You’re dead,” Jason repeated. “You’re dead. Dick–Dick, you’re dead. You’re–”
The words stuck in his throat, tight with emotion. “You’re–”
His chest was– fuck .
His shoulders were– fuck.
“Dead. Dead. You’re dead.”
Once– shit.
Halfway through his exhale a sob racked his body.
“You–you–”
Dick put a hand on his heaving shoulder and Jason could sorta feel it, almost. If he tried a little bit too hard and pretended just hard enough. “It’s okay, Jay.”
Okay? Okay?! How the fuck was any of this goddamn shit okay?
“It’s not your fault.”
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
Except that it was his fault. Of course it was, and three months out of the year, every night for over ten years, he left his apartment, climbed into the cab of his truck, drove out to the BatBurger on the outskirts of town, headed out about twenty minutes or so on the highway, turned around and picked up a hitchhiker. It was his penance. Because it was his fault. It was.
Bruce knew it. Jason knew it.
“You–you never woulda left your car if you weren’t tryna get to me.”
Dick looked sad. Kind and understanding. Knowing and sad. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true.”
Jason slammed his fists on the steering wheel. Narrowly avoiding the horn. “Don’t do that! Don’t you dare fucking do that! You’re dead! You’re dead . You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sit there and try to comfort me.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“Stop saying that!” He was crying again. Dick was dead, and Jason was crying again.
“It was random chance, Jay. My car would’ve broken down somewhere. It was on its last leg. I knew better than to drive it like that. And then I got in the wrong car. That doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
“You never woulda left your car if you weren’t tryna get to me,” Jason repeated.
Dick’s little laugh felt out of place in the heavy atmosphere. “I wouldn’t’ve? Really? As opposed to what? Staying in my dinky junk car outside the most dangerous city on the planet? It was a rock and a hard place. All my options were shit. I’m not going to forgive you. I never blamed you. It wasn’t your fault, Jay. You have to let it go.”
Jason watched as Dick covered his hands with his, gaze so earnest it almost hurt. “You have to let me go.”
“I can’t. I can’t.”
“I know. Why do you think I’m here?”
Everything stilled. Oh.
You have to let me go.
He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
Once…
Twice…
Thrice…
His apartment.
His truck.
BatBurger.
Twenty minutes or so outside the city.
Wayne Manor.
Repeat.
It was his penance.
You have to let me go.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
It’s not your fault.
All my options were shit.
“It’s not my fault,” he whispered, opening his eyes. He was alone.