It took Dick a long while to finally regain his voice.

"J-Jay?" He whispered. Jason blinked, as if only now realizing what was happening. He released his grip on Dick's wrist immediately, scooting backwards until his back was pressed up against the headboard of Dick's bed, drawing his knees to his chest, somehow despite his injuries. Jason blinked hard a few times, and the neon green light faded from his eyes. The room was suddenly much darker, and Dick was shocked at how bright Jason's eyes must have been glowing.

"I-I'm sorry," Jason whispered faintly, and if Dick hadn't still been frozen in shock he wouldn't have heard the broken voice. Dick shook himself, realizing that he still had his Nightwing suit on and hadn't taken a shower yet.

"I'll be right back." Dick whispered, missing the look of raw panic that filled Jason's eyes as he left the room. Dick entered the bathroom and closed the door. He striped from his suit, sitting on the toilet seat as he waited for the water to warm up in the shower. Seeing his phone sitting on the counter, he picked it up and unlocked it. The text he saw from Bruce made his blood boil.

Are you okay? Is everything alright?

Dick took a deep breath, however he couldn't stop the angry tears from rolling down his cheeks. It wasn't fair! Yeah, Jason's way of stopping crime was wrong, compared to Bruce's standards, and for a while that's all the family could think about. Hell, it's probably still the only thing the family could think about. Dick had stepped out of his blind stupor when Tim had come home after missing for a week. He had told Bruce, Damian, and Alfred that he was really sorry, but the fight he'd had with Bruce had pushed him over the edge and he had needed some time on his own. The cold glare anyone would receive after asking Tim where he had stayed was frightening, and caused the questioner to hold any further inquiries, even Damian. Tim didn't wish to discuss it, and it was hard to tell if Tim was lying. Tim had been fighting with Bruce before he disappeared, and he'd yelled about him 'having enough' and how he 'couldn't take it anymore'. Bruce may not have actually believed Tim, however he'd made an effort to not fight as much with the teen or push him.

The night Tim had come home, however, he had came to Dick's room with a confession. He told Dick that, although the fight with Bruce had initially caused Tim to escape into the night as Red Robin, he hadn't actually intended to leave for so long. He had been distracted by his emotions and allowed himself to get stabbed. Jason had found him, taken him to his safe-house, and taken care of him until he had been ready to leave. Not without forcing Tim to promise to never say a word to Bruce, of had told Dick because he knew Dick really cared about his younger brother, and thought that maybe this information could snap him back into reality to actually realize that fact.

It did.

Fuck you Bruce.

With that said, Dick stepped into the shower, a bit of the tenison lifted from his shoulders. It may have only been a little bit, but it made a difference, and it filled Dick with a strange sort of hopeful feeling. He could save Jason. He could fix the screwed up relationship they had. He could prove to Jason that he mattered and that Dick loved him.

He would.

oOo

Finished with his shower, which only lasted about six minutes, Dick towelled off his hair, and pulled on his pajamas; a deep blue t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. Stepping back into his room, he was met with complete blackness. Dick switched on a lamp beside his bed, and was shocked to see Jason in the same position as he was before. He was trembling, silent tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared at the bed in silence.

Shit!

"Jay," Dick murmured, climbing into the bed to sit beside his brother. Jason noticeably stiffened, however remained silent, choosing to ignore Dick's greeting.

"Little Wing, you know I'm not mad at you, right?" Dick asked, contemplating whether it was okay to touch the younger man. Boy. Dick corrected himself in his head. Jason was only 15 when he died. He's still mentally a boy, in some aspects.

Jason glanced at Dick out of the corner of his eye. "You...you're not?" He asked softly, voice raspy from the tears.

"No of course not Jay! To be honest I was just a little spooked, that's all." Jason's gae dropped to the floor, and Dick mentally winced. That came out wrong.

"So, you're afraid of me." Jason said flatly, more tears running down his face. "It's okay. I would be too." Horror gripped Dick's gut and squeezed.

"No! No that's not it! I'm not afraid of you, Jason, I was just spooked 'cause I didn't know you could do that. How, exactly, can you do that?" Jason frowned, and gave the smallest of shrugs.

"I don't know. It happened when I...uh, wh-when I came back." Jason explained quickly. Mental note: Jason's death scares him. Dick thought. Perhaps that was the cause behind some of Jason's odd behavior.

"What causes it?" Dick asked. "Or, do you just like...do it?"

"It happens whenever I get like, bad emotions; like if I'm frightened or angry or something. Sometimes...well often I get these sensory overload things, and it gets bad. The light also sorta dampens my emotions. If I let it get bad...well...people die." Jason said.

"What about sleeping made you scared?" Dick asked, and immediately regretted it as Jason's pupils dilated, his breath shortening, his face quickly growing pale.

"Hey, hey it's okay, it's okay, Jay. We don't have to do that. How about we just lay under the covers? We don't have to sleep. Just lay there. That okay, BlueJay?" Dick reassures him, and Jason nods, allowing Dick to maneuver him so he's laying down, pulling the blanket around them both. Dick turns out the lamp, his eyes adjusting quickly to see Jason trembling beside him. Dick runs a comforting hand through Jason's hair.

"It's okay, BlueJay. I'm here." Dick whispers, and it's not long before both boys are asleep.