[Warning for mentioned/implied major character death and panic attacks towards the end]

---- From chapter 29 ----

T: MY BOOK IS LOCKED IN A CLASSROOM
T: RED ALERT
T: R E D. A L E R T.
T: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
J: Baby, calm down
J: Which room?
T: the science room on second floor
J: Ok
T:
T:
T: Why do you have the keys
J: It's not important, you good now that you've got your book back?
T: Yessir, thank u sir

----

The air conditioner in the back of Jason's second period AP science class was broken. It was the only class he didn't have with Tim that semester, because Tim had taken science last semester while he'd been stuck in maths, and now their positions were reversed.

The air conditioner was broken and it was second semester, May, which meant as the weather got hotter it was used more and it rattled constantly, right behind his desk in the back row. The loose screw and it's tinny clatter was the backdrop to Jason's inner-monologue for an entire seventy-five minutes every weekday, a quiet form of inanimate laughter when he wished Tim was there for what was probably the seventh time of the hour.

He would have been able to deal with it- honestly, he dealt with worse on a nightly basis- if Tim had been in the class with him, either because Tim would have fixed it, or because, admittedly, the corners of Jason's vision got a little blurry when he was looking at Tim, everything else fading to white noise or shapeless forms. Every morning, the coming summer sun was bright in his eyes, but all he could see was Tim and the half-moons weighing down his expression.

His science teacher announced that they had a test next Friday, and Jason lazily made a note on the top of the page in front of him.

He was whipped, he knew- and if he didn't already, Dickie told him often enough that he didn't have a choice but to be aware of it- but it's not like he can be blamed. Tim was nothing holy. He wasn't like Dickie, weighed down by a halo on his head. He wasn't made of anything ancient and foreign. He was just a person, but he was amazing. He was soft and gentle and so, so smart, and one of the last genuinely good people in the whole godforsaken city, but he was also aggressive and depressed and sometimes he made Jason so angry. Angry because he was petty and stubborn, but also angry because he didn't sleep when he should and he was blind to how much he meant to the people around him and it was infuriating.

Really, he was Jason's only analgesic against the steady poison of the city around them.

It was worth noting that Jason had his lowest mark in this class.

His phone buzzed in his hand a few times, and he had closed out of his life story à la Instagram and opened his conversation with Tim before he even thought to be subtle about it.

The air conditioner laughed behind him.

There were thirty minutes left of class if the top of his screen was to be believed, so Tim texting him wasn't out of the norm. Their lockers were about as far apart as they could get, considering Tim's last name was still legally Drake- though Jason had plans to change that- so they usually met up at the cafeteria or by front doors, depending on their lunch plans, and one of them occasionally got held up with something. That was, of course, on days which they both actually went to class, which Jason knew Tim had not.

Instead of the message that he was expecting- some conspiracy about gas prices or something- Tim had left him a chain of incoherent sputtering with varying levels of intensity. He scrolled past them all, only reading the last four.

T: MY BOOK IS LOCKED IN A CLASSROOM
T: RED ALERT
T: R E D. A L E R T.
T: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Something like raw affection buzzed down his spine, a steady riff that he could feel all the way to his knuckles. He got to his own feet, obeying an aimless impulse that abandoned him as soon as he was standing, and it takes catching the eyes of his teacher before he realizes he was still in class.

Still, his buzzing phone reminds him, Tim hadn't slept at all the night before, and he'd been toeing the line between coping and not for the last few days. He needed Jason more than Jason needed science.

He tried to mimic the expression he figured Dick would slap on if it was him in this situation, trying to convey to his teacher that this was a Tim-Emergency and not him trying to sneak out of class to smoke. Again. His teacher had had Tim and Dick last semester, though, so it was with only a narrowed look and a sweeping arch of her wrist writing his name on the whiteboard so that they both remembered he would have class to make up on Monday that she allowed him to exit the room.

He's halfway down the hallway before he remembers he doesn't know where he's going.

Tim has left a few more panicky messages- and one voicemail- and Jason skims them to make sure there's nothing important he's missing before he stops in the middle of the hallway to type.

J: Baby, calm down
J: Which room?

"Uh, excuse us," a voice says from in front of him. He glances up and sees two guys carrying a large piece of painted cardboard. Something for the school's upcoming play, if he had to guess. Silently, he stepped aside, letting them pass him and glancing back down at his phone to find that Tim had answered him.

T: the science room on second floor
J: Ok

He typed as he walked, having to stop by his locker on the first floor before he could make his way up the stairs to where Tim was. As soon as he rounded the corner, his eyes fell on Tim.

He had his face pressed against the glass window of the door, hands cupped around his eyes like binoculars so he could peer through the glass into the darkened room. He drew back when he sensed Jason's approach, a worried look on his face. Jason couldn't help but smile a little. He looked like a new mother that had locked her baby in the car.

"Hey princess," he greeted, tone pitched so that they both knew he was making fun of Tim, "someone in need of a hero?"

"Shut up, Jay," Tim pouted, pulling the school's uniform blazer tighter around his chest, a vaguely embarrassed expression streaked through with annoyance on his face.

It was with no small amount of satisfaction that Jason held up a key with the room number engraved in the head. Tim's arms dropped, his expression folding over into gratitude as Jason nudged him to the side and unlocked the door with a definitive click.

When he looked up again, Tim was staring at him, a soft grin playing on his face, white teeth pinking his lip, his skin so pale that he almost seemed to glow. The blazer slid off his shoulder a little, exposing a pretty collection of love bites. Jason can still taste the fake-strawberry of Tim's soap in his mouth and wonders if he'll ever taste anything else again.

Tim sauntered through the doorway, hips swinging, and really- really- it's not like Jason can be blamed for trailing after him like a dog on a leash, hooking his fingers around Tim's middle and pulling him back against him until his back hits the door and the lock clicks back into place.

Tim, of course, blames him anyway.

"Jason," he complains, though the way he goes pliant and keens deeper into Jason's hold didn't match his annoyed tone in the slightest, "Jay- my book, remember?"

Jason hummed, dimly, holding Tim tighter. He didn't know why then, or even what it was, but there was something in his chest, tight and trembling, begging for something he didn't have the words for. It was like when nicotine cravings started on the back of his tongue, only much louder and much more insistent.

Tim wiggled out of his hold, turning around and giving him a look he had no hope of deciphering. They stared at each other in silence for a short moment, before Tim snatched his book off the teacher's desk and everything inside Jason started suddenly working again.

"Did you hear Roy almost got evicted again?"

Tim tucked himself neatly under Jason's arm, his book- Jekyll and Hyde, Jason knew- squished against his chest as they walked.

"Yeah, something about a fire?"

Jason laughed, clutching Tim closer to his side when the bell rang and the hallways became crowded.

"Dickie rewired all the fire alarms in his apartment."

Tim laughed, and it struck Jason like a physical blow, like slamming all the lights on in a dark room when no one was ready.

They didn't pull apart until they had to, Tim to his locker and Jason back to his own science room to retrieve his notebook and a lecture from his teacher, and it hadn't been more than thirty seconds before Jason's phone buzzed.

T:
T:
T: Why do you have the keys
J: It's not important, you good now that you've got your book back?
T: Yessir, thank u sir

Jason felt it in his chest again, clutching his phone so hard his fingers turned white. The words came to him soaked in something like fear, a bitter taste rising up from his stomach. It was the same ugly wave of sickness that washed over him every time Bruce looked at him, disappointment heavy on his features. Standing there, in a staircase surrounded by other students, Jason couldn't help the tensing of his shoulders.

It was then that his phone buzzed, not Tim but the tracking program he had had secretly running for the past few days.

He released a breath, continuing his way down the stairs. With a clear goal in mind, breathing became easy again, the desire that had taken hold of him- the desire to preserve, for nothing to ever change- let go, and he was left staring at a blinking red dot on a world map.

He pushed it to the back of his mind for the rest of the day, indulging every urge to touch Tim because he didn't know how long he would be gone, just that he would have proved himself-proven that he was just a good a Robin as Dickie- when he got back.

That night, after having pressed a soft kiss to Tim's sleep-parted lips, he did his best to ignore the guilt mounting in his chest as he was leaving. After hesitating at the exit for a moment, he slowly turned back into the cave, peeling his mask off his face. He left it in the glass case where the rest of his costume was displayed, replacing it with one of the many spares they kept on hand.

A silent apology and a promise that he hoped Tim would understand.

----

J's location has been disabled.

Tim blinked at the brightness of his screen, the buzzing having waked him up from his uncomfortable sleep. Yawning as his brain worked to decipher the words on his screen he rolled to his side, searching for Jason's warmth and finding the other half of the bed empty.

Frowning, he brushed his hands over the sheets. Cold.

Slowly, he sat up, pulling himself out of bed with the sheets wrapped around him. Distantly, he registered himself moving through the hallways, the ground underneath him turning from carpet to stone as he descended the stairs into the batcave.

Instead of finding Jason hunched over the computer like he had been expecting, he found the cave empty, the batplane missing, and a fresh dose of anxiety rolling in his stomach.

"Master Timothy."

He jumped at Alfred's voice, turning towards it hastily, "Oh- Alfred. I was looking for Jason."

"Yes, well, that does seem to be the general theme of the night," Alfred replied, guiding Tim to sit at the batcomputer and setting a steaming mug of tea down in front of him. Tim eyed it longingly, wishing it were coffee instead, before bothering to wonder how Alfred knew to prepare tea.

"What do you mean?" He asked, reaching forward and clutching the warm mug between his hands. Nothing stays hot for very long in the cave.

Alfred, for the first time Tim can recall, looked very troubled, "You are aware of Ra's most recent plot, yes?"

Tim sat up straight so he could reach the keys and access the files he needed, typing with one hand and clutching the teacup in the other. "Yeah, he's trying to screw with the economy in Europe." His eyebrows drew together. He had been the one to figure that out, after all. Had he been wrong? "...Right?"

"You would be correct, master Timothy." Alfred nodded, "However-" Tim stopped typing, sensing anxiety of all things in Alfred's tone- "it appears he had also decided to enlist the Joker's assistance to keep master Bruce otherwise occupied."

Slowly, Tim began typing again, picking up speed to gather all the details he had missed while sleeping. The puzzle pieces were starting together, but he couldn't place why Alfred was acting so off. They had dealt with the Joker before, though never Tim personally.

"Master Jason then pursued Joker to Bosnia."

Tim felt himself fumble before it appeared in the form of a keysmash on the screen in front of them. Jason had never gone off on his own before, let alone all the way to southeastern Europe after the Joker. Jason had never left without telling Tim.

Not giving him a chance to ask any of the questions rising in his mind, Alfred went on, "Mater Jason was then capt-"

Tim cut him off before he realized he was doing it, his mind leagues ahead of the rest of him, "What do you mean 'was'?"

Alfred was silent.

"You've been using past-tense this entire time, Alfred," Tim didn't mean for his tone to be so accusatory, but he couldn't shake the feeling something was wrong. Tea spilt onto the sheets pooled around him as his hands began to shake. "What aren't you telling me?"

From above, the quiet rumbling of the batplane's engine echoed down to them, growing louder and rushing past his ears. Alfred spoke over it, dropping honorifics for the first time since Tim had met the elderly man, and Tim didn't realize he had dropped the mug until his fingers curled around nothing and his breathing grew erratic.

"Jason was killed, Tim."

He tried to stand because that was wrong and he didn't have to sit there and listen to people he trusted lie to him like that, but he ended up doubling over in pain, the glass shards of the shattered mug slicing through his bare feet. Bruce caught him before he could hit the ground, appearing suddenly as a blurry figure clad in black, and he didn't have the strength to pull closer or push away, not sure which he would have done even if he did.

Bruce was murmuring in his ear, soft words meant to make him feel better, only nothing could make him feel better and he couldn't trust anything Bruce said because Bruce had to be lying.

He had to be lying because if he wasn't that meant Jason was-

He broke off and realized he was sobbing, his chest was heaving too fast and he couldn't breathe. His vision was darkening at the corners and he couldn't tell if it was because he was hyperventilating or the darkness of Bruce's cape fluttering outside his vision. Either way, he reached for it. He longed for unconsciousness like he never had before, telling himself that when he woke up this will have all been a dream and Jason will be less than an inch away, hogging all the blankets and using Tim's pillow instead of his own.

Alfred's words were playing on a loop in his head, losing form until it was more a jumble of sounds tormenting him than actual words.

Bruce's voice cut through the fog, though he couldn't hear what was being said, and dimly he registered that he was being lifted into the air, "It's gonna be ok Timmy."

Funny, that's what Jason would have told him.

His mouth was somehow too dry and too wet at the same time, and he couldn't get enough oxygen to speak, but he managed to fist his fingers over the bat-symbol on Bruce's chest and choke out a strangled word before he lost consciousness.

"Liar."