It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

He broke the speed limit by thirty miles on the way to the hospital. Passing motorists honked and screamed obscenities at him as the motorcycle wove through traffic like a needle through fabric.

It started off as an average day, Tim would get ready for school while Jason made breakfast. Pancakes went beside police reports and somebody made a joke once about them acting like a married couple, but it wasn't far from the truth. They'd been living together for months now and had slipped into an easy routine. No matter how tired Jason was or how much of a hurry Tim was in to get to class, he would always kiss the teen goodbye before he left for the day. It wasn't much, but it was a small way of saying 'I love you' every day.

The teen would drive home after class, always taking the same roads.

I shouldn't have let him leave.

Jason couldn't remember what mundane task he was doing when he got the call. Another driver had been drunk, or texting, or just too stupid to realize that a red light meant stop. No matter how it happened the point was the same, there had been a collision and he had to rush to the hospital just in time to say goodbye for the last time.

It was strange, wasn't it? They spend their nights fighting super-powered monsters, narrowly escaping death traps, spending years of training, only to die in one of the most common ways possible. It seemed like a joke, "International hero Red Robin gets killed by traffic."But he knew that's not what the papers would say. The teen was out of costume and it would be covered up like Jason's death years ago.

"Adopted child of Bruce Wayne dead in accident" would be a more likely headline, overshadowed even in his obituary.

Emergency workers pulled his battered body from a wreckage of metal and chipped paint. He was going into shock and the only concern was that he was going to be late for class. The possibility that he might die never crossed his mind.

Tim wasn't the kind of person to go to celebrity banquets or play the role of billionaire bimbo for attention. Most people knew that Bruce Wayne had more than one adopted kid, but usually couldn't name one other than Dick. The paparazzi had no interest in a straight-A honors student without a sex tape, and he let himself be overshadowed by his more famous relatives. It suited him just fine, with no reporters to worry about it was easier to slip on his costume or sneak away to a vacation in the tropics with his boyfriend in tow.

There were doctors bustling around, doing everything they could while Jason was forced to wait outside the operating room. Surgeons cut into damaged flesh to repair what was broken inside. It was over an hour an hour later when they decided there was nothing more anyone could do and moved the teen to a private room. No one wanted to believe this was happening.

The figure on the bed was dwarfed by beeping machines and barely looked strong enough to stand up to Kite-man, let alone hold his own against Bane. This person was too small and fragile to be his Tim. He was unconscious and was kept that way through a heavy drip of painkillers. His chest was lopsided from a broken ribcage and already pale skin was even whiter. Jason reached up to caress a bruised and swollen cheek, careful not to touch tiny gashes made by shattered glass.

He couldn't even kiss his lips because of a breathing tube.

Tim would spar with him in the afternoons and tease him when he lost. They shared a bed every night and Jason loved the way the teen blushed when he was embarrassed. They were so happy together and Tim the best thing that ever happened to him.

So why, dear God why, when everything was going so good did this have to happen?

His skin was so cold. "He's never hurt anybody, so what did he do to deserve this?" He angrily asked an empty room, his voice cracking in anguish "I know I've done some awful things in my life, but don't you dare take this out on him." He demanded of a God that wouldn't answer and the anger he clung to all his life sputtered out like a dying flame, leaving him more alone than ever before. The familiar crutch was gone, there was nothing to hate and no one to blame.

Jason crumpled down at the side of the bed when tears started to fall. "Please…I'm sorry…Just don't take him, please, I need him." Even after everything he's done, Tim found him and pulled him out of his pit of self-hate. The teen cared about him and didn't mind the countless hours spent piecing together Jason's broken heart with scotch tape.

He knew why the nurses were so nice to him. The call wasn't about checking up on him or signing papers, he was brought here to say goodbye. He couldn't handle this, sitting here and waiting for Tim's life to end. Hands that could make a staff break concrete shouldn't feel so cold.

It hurt, oh how it hurt, but he couldn't imagine leaving the teen alone like this.

He wished he say something, do something, and rewind the day back to this morning. The sweetest of images played in his mind of how he'd beg Tim to stay home and all the things he'd do to prove how grateful he was to have him.

But none of it was real.

He wasn't at home coaxing the teen to play hooky with desperate kisses or pulling at his clothes in rapture at a cheated fate. He was in Gotham First National Hospital and waiting for the love of his life to die.

There was a noise at the door, a horrified gasp at something. Jason mechanically looked up to see Dick standing there, out of costume but still well-armed. The familiar lines on hidden weapons were visible under civilian clothes. The middle brother didn't react, merely turning his gaze back to the figure on the bed. He couldn't bring himself to fight no matter what happened.

Dick put the weapon away once he learned that he wasn't there to finish Tim off. Jason was sitting in a chair holding the teen's hand. It was a foreign gesture of compassion that he never thought he see from him. He didn't know why he was there or how he knew, and it was good to see a shred of humanity in the convict. But this was something else.

Jason had tried to murder Tim and anyone else connected to Bruce, so why the sudden change? This wasn't an obligated show of grief for a family member or a fallen enemy. The man was devastated and his eyes were even red from crying.

There was a glint of metal on Tim's hand from a ring he never noticed before. His eyes went wide from shock when he saw one that matched on Jason. He wanted to say something in surprise or condolences but what, he didn't know. What do you say when you discover something like this? Anything he could say was far too late anyway.

A hand went up to wipe at wet eyes as Jason spoke. "He loves me." He admitted abruptly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. There was a sense of reverence and despair in unveiling the truth. "I don't know why."

A part of Jason would constantly blame himself for every bad thing that happened in his life. Like he didn't deserve happiness and was being punished every time. Even as he tried, he couldn't think of what horrible sin he committed for Tim to be hurt instead.

In time other people came and went; nurses, friends, family. Names and faces that muddled together like drops in an IV. There were people from his school that cried on each other's shoulders and members of the JLA that discussed alien treatment methods or magic healing spells. That talk kept coming up empty.

It was too late.

No one talked to Jason and Jason talked to no one. He had taken the chair closest to Tim and none of them fought him for the right to it. They had their questions and odd glances but knew enough to keep them.

The sun had tipped over and was making its journey downward when it finally happened.

Someone would say that he moved just before or maybe they just imagined it, but his heart had stopped. Machines screamed in alarm and trained professionals pushed people aside. Shots of adrenaline were jammed into arteries and who knows how many volts were forced through his chest before it was over. But despite everyone's best efforts, Tim's life was just that.

Over

Jason had to be pulled away screaming and sobbing, he didn't want to leave him. He wanted to be buried with him like the grieving wives of old.

There was no solace in any of this, even thoughts of heavenly reward did little to stop the tears. He couldn't bear to go home either, being in that empty apartment would shatter his mind worse than the car's windshield. He didn't know where to go.

Dick offered him someplace to spend the night and he was grateful for it. They went to a bar together and ordered drinks, but neither really were in the mood for alcohol. They tried talking to each other for the first time in years and the results would have made Tim proud. There was no more animosity between them, only a cold sense of understanding. One brother had been lost and another was returned.

As they were leaving for the older man's loft, Jason felt an old itch in his lungs and he realized how many hours it had been since his last smoke. He fumbled with the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a box that was too thin for cigarettes.

It was a packet of nicotine gum with Tim's handwriting across the front in a felt-tip marker. "Because I want to spend as many years as possible with you."

It must have been put there when he wasn't looking. Sometime this morning.

His heart clutched in his chest and it became very hard to breathe. Every inch of his body hurt and he had to get out of there before he cracked completely. Dick asked what was wrong and he said that he needed to be alone for a while.

He had to fix this.

…

It was after midnight when he had gotten everything together.

Hospital staff didn't look twice at a janitor taking the elevator all the way down. Half of him thought he lost his mind, and the other half didn't care. He had to get Tim back.

This is why I was brought back, he thought as empty questions clicked into place, I'm the only one that can save him.

Few would think to do this, but no one else would go through with it. They'd say an awful thing like it was wrong or that he was messing with forces beyond his control. But they didn't understand. How does someone simply move on when the only person that ever truly loved them was taken away? What was he supposed to do?

Everything in his life had been so crystal clear before and now he was scooping up the pieces.

Locked doors barely slowed him down and the morgue had the heavy stink of chemicals. Thankfully it was empty for the moment, he refused to add more pain to what was already a tragedy. He pushed his cart past the metal autopsy tables to the refrigerated wall of corpses. Someone would be here in the morning to pick the teen up and get him ready for a funeral that would never come. The idea of Tim being hurt worse revolted him. Someone would be hired to stuff him full of sawdust and cotton balls, and dress him up in his Sunday best for the final goodbye.

The storage area reminded him of cubby holes that children used and it wasn't long before he found what he was looking for. He was the third under D for Drake-Wayne and the shelf pulled out easily from well-oiled wheels.

A light clicked on and Jason whipped around with his gun in hand. Nightwing was leaning coolly against a tiled wall, saying "I figured you'd end up here eventually." The gun's barrel followed him as the older man approached and it was shaking in his hands. Dick could have smacked it out of his grip with barely a tap.

Jason was wild-eyed and afraid like a tiger defending an injured mate. "I don't want to hurt to hurt you." He said honestly. It wasn't that long ago when he was still blinded by rage and Dick had to step in to prevent him from murdering someone he would later fall madly in love with. It was hard to believe the first Robin was still kind to him after that.

Dick was smiling weakly, knowing how hard it is to lose someone that meant so much. His hands never moved to the eskrima sticks at his back. "Well, at least we have that in common. I'd rather not fight you either." He said warmly and the weapon lowered. He could see the disguised cart that Jason would use to sneak Tim's body out. "What are you planning?"

The younger Robin's eyes went the body on the shelf and back to his sibling, unsure what to do. After a moment's thought he holstered the gun and explained "I know where there's a Lazarus pit. It's hard to get to and even harder to defend, that's why Ra's ignores it mostly." Theoretically, he should be able to break in, defeat the guards, and bring Tim back before Ra's sends his army. Most would call it a suicide mission and it wasn't far from his intentions.

"Where is it?" Dick asked too quickly, disturbed with how eager he was to volunteer.

Jason shook his head, suddenly distant again. "I can't tell you…I'm sorry." He added the last part as an after-thought, a thank you for being there in his time of need.

Dick nodded in understanding, they were still miles away from a trusting relationship. There are many people who do whatever they could to stop him from bringing Tim back. It may sound cold, but the reasons against it are valid. Even after months of testing, no one can figure out how the pit works or what the side effects are. Even if the person brought back from the dead, who can be sure that it's really them? Not to mention the fact that most people come out less than sane.

But this wasn't a rational choice. How on Earth could Dick stand here beside the second brother he was forced to bury and somehow refuse to see him again? He had been so cold to Jason when he became Robin, resenting him for wearing the costume that was taken from him. As far as he was concerned Bruce's new son was something to be ignored. Years later, his disgust was thrown back at him when Jason had found the word that he had longed to say:

"Replacement"

Dick wished he could take everything back and say he didn't know, but it was far too late for that.

Tim was his second chance and he promised to be the best big brother he could. He was overprotective and did everything he could to spare him from the big, scary world outside. The boy was the only family he had left and to see Jason weeping for him was too much. But Tim wasn't a child anymore.

He had to trust his brother now or he never would. "It won't be long before someone finds out he's missing. I'll stall them as much as I can, but you have to hurry." He was stepping down from the role of protector and gave Jason his blessing. Dick would have given anything to go with him, but he was more useful by staying behind.

…

Jason had the plane already loaded with as much supplies and weapons as he could carry and double-checked everything before takeoff. It made him sick to know what he was going to do to the boy's body.

The iron locks of the freezer popped open at his command and frigid air hit his face. The unit was big enough for a grown man to sleep in and he put down a layer of pillows on the bottom so Tim would be more comfortable during the ride. The boy didn't respond as he was wrapped in his favorite blanket and placed inside. Jason couldn't bring himself to close the lid.

The satisfying crack of the glowstick in his hands reminded him he was being ridiculous.

The greenish light flooded around him, revealing that there was nothing inside the freezer but a body. It was nothing more than an empty shell of meat and organs. Tim's soul had gone off to join the choir invisible or wherever good people go when they die. He didn't need to worry about how awful it would be to spend the next twelve hours trapped in a refrigerated coffin to keep him from rotting. But he did worry, because he couldn't shake the feeling that a part of him was still in there. So he tucked the meager source of light where the boy could reach, at least he wouldn't spend that time in the dark.

He knelt down beside him and rested an arm on the metal ridge. "I don't know if you're going to be mad at me for doing this, or disappointed that I can't live without you. But I need you Tim, you've been gone for less than a day and I can't stand it." He reached down to scoop the teen up in his arms and kiss his cheek, running a hand through soft hair "I love you, and I promise that I'm going to bring you back."

The bruised skin was like ice, but he didn't want to let go. The thought of it flushing warm again was enough to remind him of his mission. The box was closed and Jason went to fly the plane. As he sat down and put on his headset, he placed a reassuring hand on the freezer's lid.

I know you don't like cramped spaces, but I'm right here if you need me.

…

The plane was traded for a helicopter once they reached Syria and then the journey into the mountains began. Talia had told him about this place and Jason walked through it like remembering a dream. This was where he was brought back.

The memories were fuzzy, but he could feel the pit leading him forward.

The cave entrance was hidden well and the road was cleared with sniper fire. A cry of alarm died in the sentry's throat as a bullet struck him between the eyes. A block of C4 was enough to break down the door, he had come too far to back down now.

Tile flooring clicked under heavy boots as he made his way through the buried temple of rebirth. Bulletproof vest, armored jacket, bands of ammo shifted as he walked, he was dressed for a war. The body of his loved one was secured in a steel case and carried on his back. Three assassins heard the explosion and chased after him only to run into a rain of machine gun fire.

Wave after wave of enemies he fought and more seemed to pour out of every corridor. Gunfire shook the air like thunder and a bullet ripped through the curve of Jason's shoulder. Blood flowed freely from it, adding a glossy shine to his leather jacket. He returned their throwing knives with grenades. Explosions shook the temple, threatening to send it tumbling down.

Ra's men would eagerly throw their lives away fighting knowing that each battle wounded their enemy. Pristine white walls were splattered with gore as Jason emptied clip after clip into them. Two knives broke through the skin of his bulletproof vest and lodged into the meat of his side.

Jason called upon every minute of training to keep himself alive, his short years with Bruce and the various masters Talia fed him. The AK-47 jammed and the butt was used to crack the skull of someone that dared to stand in his way. Spent weapons were tossed aside as opponents fell at his feet. It was a bloodbath.

He wandered the maze-like halls, wheezing faintly after a fighter snapped one of his ribs and two more would later follow. He was three floors down when a skilled swordswoman blocked his path. She was the leader of this group and by far the hardest to defeat. He ran out of ammo halfway through the fight and kept going with a stolen saber. She was the last soldier standing and refused to surrender her master's greatest treasure to an infidel. Each slash of her blade drew blood from his arms and chest, one swipe even freed him from the burden on his back.

The coffin hit the floor with a crash and Jason dove after it without a moment's hesitation. It was in that moment of distraction that a blade was forced into his stomach. In disbelief he looked down, unable to believe that death would come for him a second time.

When the hilt hit his abdomen, he separated her head from her shoulders. The case scraped against tile as it was picked back up. A bandage was slapped over the gaping hole in his gut and he kept walking.

These were his only options, he thought, live with Tim or follow him into death. He should have been horrified, but was instead comforted by the thought.

His muscled ached in protest as he found the last set of stairs leading down. The stone steps wound like a serpent in the dark and drops of blood marked the trail behind him. He steps were slower now, little more than shambling from exhaustion and lightheadedness. His lighter made strange shapes on the walls. The path seemed to go on forever.

He didn't know how far he'd gone when he fell. His vision faded in and out when his heel hit the edge and he went tumbling down. A jolt of pain danced through his skull when it hit the floor. The case rattled as it slid down the stairs beyond his reach. His head was swimming and nothing wanted to move.

How easy would it be to sit down and take a rest? Just a few minutes, only long enough to smoke. But he didn't have any cigarettes with him, all he had was a packet of gum that tasted like shit.

His battered body eased off the ground and he went looking for Tim, all the while using the tan-colored wall as a crutch.

The temporary coffin had popped open and he would have laughed at how the teen was spilled out on the floor. Jason carried him with an arm across his back and another under his knees, leaving the extra weight of the case behind. They were so close now.

An unearthly light danced in the distance, shining out from behind a door. This last door was unlocked as none of them believed that an intruder would get that far and if by some miracle they did, they had earned their prize.

The air of the chamber was thick with an ancient magic that was far older than humanity itself. Perhaps these pits were a gift from a forgotten god and Jason could almost taste the name on his tongue. It was burned into his blood long before his ancestors were even born, a relic from the tribal days of man. The glowing waters were calling to him again.

Pale green light pushed back the darkness as he knelt down so Tim would bathe in the healing waters first. He didn't know if the power of one Lazarus pit would be enough to heal them both. Success warmed his slowed heart as the underwater lights welcomed the boy with open arms.

Jason allowed himself a brief rest as his consciousness flickered out like a dying bulb, his body finally collapsing in a heap of exhaustion. He wasn't able to remember later if he fell in or if something pulled him.

The water was hot to the point of burning as it flowed into the hole in his stomach, already working its strange magic. His consciousness was regained in time to hear the teen change.

There was a loud gasp as Tim's soul was forced back into his body, ripped away from whatever rest there was on the other side. Jason held his wrists as the teen violently struggled as if in seizure, making sure he didn't hurt himself as nerves were reconnected. Screams echoed off the walls at the pain of a thousand little needles inside of him stitched together every ruptured muscle. The extent of his wounds was far greater than Jason's.

The teen clung to his lover as the pit seeped into every cell. Ivory ribs were mended as they slithered back into their proper places. His chest filled with air as he could breathe again under his own strength. He was alive again.

Words couldn't describe the immense joy Jason was feeling at this moment. Tim's heartbeat was the most wonderful sound in the world.

The whole ordeal of rebirth took place in a matter of minutes, even if it felt like centuries. The teen's panic faded moments later as new scrapes and old scars were smoothed away until the skin resembled fresh porcelain. The hue of Tim's eyes were more vibrant than ever and confusion was written on his features as he tried to piece together what had happened. Memories of this morning flittered back to him in fragments.

He remembered Jason's mouth on his neck and saying goodbye. He went to school as usual.

Wait, that's not what happened…

The moment playing over in his mind was remarkably vivid. Another car hit his and he was flung back against his seat. Glass exploded in his face and crunched under every movement. He didn't know why the paramedics were in such a hurry, it couldn't be that bad.

It wasn't until he was on the stretcher that he felt that he was drowning and started coughing blood from a punctured lung. Fear and denial rose up from him like a tidal wave in that moment. He was too young to die, there was so much he wanted to do… "Jason" He pleaded "...help me…"

"You brought me back" The words fell from Tim's mouth, somewhere between a question and a statement. Jason nodded, grateful that there was no anger in his voice.

There were sounds at the edge of the teen's hearing, frightened voices, a heartbeat, as he could sense what his lover had almost died as well. He knew each wound from the assassins, each moment of heartache as if he was standing there. Jason took his hand in his as Tim's eyes welled with tears, silently explaining that it was his choice to die if he failed. Jason's thoughts were distant but not unapproachable, like their minds were two people lost in the woods. Given time, he could reach out and touch them.

The temple was as quiet as the corpses that filled it when they saw each other with new eyes. Jason could remember being in the car crash. The feeling was frightening, but also exhilarating. Their souls were stripped bare for the other to see, every weakness, every fear was split wide open. Somehow, their blood had mixed with the glowing waters and bound the two of them together more deeply than any mortal vow or ceremony could. Tim was safe here, wrapped in Jason's arms and they were closer than they ever thought possible.

It was hard to tell where one person ended and other began.

…

There was an early fear that coming back had somehow changed Tim, but as months passed by the only difference they could see was a shock of white in his hair. However, the happy couple knew that the story wasn't over.