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ffaelix · 4 months ago

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on cold, grey nights | jason todd angst

written for one of my friend's bday, cross posted on wattpad (wearyminds) and ao3 (ffaelix)

The Gotham night was cold and unforgiving, the air so thick with mist it felt like breathing in shards of ice. Jason Todd, clad in his crimson Red Hood attire, perched on the edge of a rooftop, his eyes scanning the shadowy streets below. He had been out here for hours, searching for any sign of trouble, but all he found was the echo of his own breaths.

A sudden gust of wind sent a shiver down his spine, and Jason tightened his grip on the grappling hook at his side. His teeth chattered slightly, and he knew he was pushing his limits. The cold was seeping into his bones, turning him numb. But he couldn't just go home, not when the city needed him. The weight of his responsibility was as heavy as the chill in the air.

Through the fog, a flicker of movement caught his eye. A shadowy figure stumbled down an alley, and Jason's instincts took over. He launched himself off the rooftop, his figure looking similar to a fiery comet against the grey sky. He landed silently on the wet pavement, his boots barely making a sound. The figure was hunched over, struggling under the weight of what appeared to be a stolen bag. Without a moment's hesitation, Jason closed in, ready to deal out his brand of justice.

But as he got closer, the figure's labored breathing and erratic steps gave him pause. This wasn't the confident gait of a seasoned criminal, but the desperate shuffle of someone in distress. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks - this wasn't a thief; it was a civilian caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. He approached with caution, not wanting to spook them into a panic. "You okay down there?" he called out, his voice muffled by the cold.

The figure looked up, revealing a young woman with wide, terrified eyes. She clutched the bag to her chest, her teeth chattering as violently as his. "Please," she stuttered, "please don't hurt me." The bag slipped from her grasp, revealing not loot but a collection of soggy blankets and meager supplies. The gravity of the situation dawned on him - she was just trying to survive the night.

Jason's heart sank. He was about to offer her help when a coughing fit took hold of him, his body betraying his good intentions. He stumbled, the cold finally overwhelming him. The woman's expression shifted from fear to concern, and she took a tentative step forward. "You're freezing," she said, her voice cracking with the cold. "You need to get out of here."

With a grim nod, Jason knew she was right. He couldn't risk his health any further. The homeless shelter was a few blocks away, a beacon of warmth and safety in this harsh night. He took the lead, guiding her through the maze of alleys with a new urgency. Each step was heavier than the last, his legs feeling like they were made of lead. The fog thickened, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead, but he pushed on, driven by the need to get her somewhere safe.

Finally, the lights of the shelter emerged through the mist like a mirage. The woman's eyes lit up with hope, and she picked up her pace. They stumbled through the doors, the warmth hitting them like a tidal wave. The shelter was crowded, a sea of weary faces greeting them with a mix of suspicion and pity. Jason helped the woman to the front desk, his teeth still chattering uncontrollably.

The shelter worker, a kind-faced woman with a no-nonsense air, took one look at him and immediately frowned. "You're in no state to be out there," she scolded, her eyes assessing his condition with a practiced gaze. "You need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch your death."

Jason nodded, reassuring the young woman that he would be okay. "I'll be fine," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You get some rest here." She hesitated, looking back at him with a mix of gratitude and concern, but he gave her a gentle nudge towards the warmth of the shelter. With a nod, she allowed herself to be led away, disappearing into the sea of bodies seeking refuge from the biting cold.

Once she was out of sight, Jason's legs gave out, and he slumped against the wall. The warmth of the shelter was a stark contrast to the icy grip the night had on him, but it was too late. His body had reached its breaking point. He knew he needed to get somewhere warm, fast, or the hypothermia would claim him. With a grimace, he pushed himself away from the safety of the shelter and stumbled into the alley.

The fog had thickened, turning the alley into a labyrinth of shadows and mist. He managed a few steps before the world began to spin, the cold seizing his muscles in a vice-like grip. He reached for the wall to steady himself, his fingertips brushing against the damp bricks before everything went black.

...

Dick Grayson, perched high above the streets as Nightwing, had noticed the sudden stillness in the alley, the absence of the crimson figure he had been keeping tabs on from afar. His stomach lurched as he swung into action, descending with a grace that belied his urgency. He found Jason slumped against the wall, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. "Jase," he whispered, his voice filled with concern as he felt for a pulse. It was faint but steady.

The cold had set in, and Dick knew he had to act quickly. First, he scouted out the area to see if it was free of trouble. Then, he carefully peeled the sodden mask from half of Jason's face, revealing the shivering form beneath. The younger man's skin was almost translucent, the stark blue of his lips a stark reminder of the danger he was in. Dick's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he scanned the area for any sign of trouble a second time.

After seeing the alley was clear, he slung Jason's arm over his shoulders, hoisting him upright. The weight was surprising, but Dick had been in similar situations before. He knew the drill - get him warm, get him dry, and get him medical attention if necessary. They staggered through the fog, the alley's cobblestones slippery under their boots. Each step was a battle against the cold and the fog, but Dick's determination was unyielding.

The alley opened up into a slightly wider street, and Dick caught a glimpse of the Bat-Signal piercing the misty sky. The symbol was a beacon of hope, a reminder that they were never truly alone in their fight. But there was no time to revel in the sight. He had to get Jason somewhere warm before hypothermia claimed him completely. Dick's thoughts raced as he considered his options. The nearest safehouse was too far, and taking him to the Batcave would risk alerting Alfred to their condition.

But maybe it was a good thing if Alfred knew. The elderly butler had seen them through countless scrapes, and his medical expertise was unmatched. Plus, the warmth of the manor's embrace would be a comfort to Jason, a stark contrast to the biting chill of the night. The decision made, Dick adjusted his grip and started to make his way towards the manor.

The journey felt like an eternity, each step a battle against the cold that clung to them like a second skin. Dick could feel the hypothermia's icy claws digging deeper into Jason's body, and he quickened his pace, trying to ignore the burning in his own muscles. The fog grew thicker, the streetlights swimming in a sea of mist that made the world around them seem unreal, like a nightmare from which they couldn't wake.

Finally, the imposing silhouette of Wayne Manor loomed ahead, a bastion of warmth and safety amidst the cold. Dick stumbled through the secret entrance, the warmth of the house enveloping them like a warm blanket. The sudden change in temperature made him gasp, and he knew Jason must be feeling it too, even in his unconscious state.

He half-carried, half-dragged his younger brother through the corridors, his heart racing with every beat. The manor was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of activity stilled by the late hour. Dick hoped Alfred was still up, waiting for their return. He knew the butler would be furious to see Jason in such a state, but that was a lecture they could deal with later. For now, all that mattered was getting him warm.

As they approached the kitchen, a flicker of light spilled into the hallway, guiding them like a lighthouse beam. The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, and Dick's stomach rumbled despite the gravity of the situation. Tim Drake sat at the island, his eyes bloodshot and his hair sticking up in every direction. The youngest Robin looked up from his textbook, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. "Dick?" he called out, his voice heavy with sleep.

Tim's gaze fell upon Jason, and his eyes widened. He jumped to his feet, the coffee mug clattering against the countertop. "What happened?" he demanded, the exhaustion in his voice giving way to alarm. Dick could only manage a tired nod before the words came tumbling out. "Hypothermia. I found him in an alley."

Tim didn't waste any time. He set aside his book and took Jason's other arm, helping Dick support his weight. "Let's get him to Alfred," he said firmly, already moving towards the stairs that led to the medical bay. Dick followed, his legs feeling like they were made of jelly. The warmth of the house was a stark contrast to the biting cold outside, but it wasn't enough to banish the chill that had settled into Jason's bones.

They stumbled into the medical bay, the room bathed in a soft, sterile light. Alfred Pennyworth looked up from his paperwork, his expression one of mild irritation that quickly morphed into alarm. "Master Dick," he began, his voice stern, before his eyes fell upon Jason. "Bring him here," he instructed, his tone switching to one of calm urgency.

Tim helped lay Jason on the examination table, the older man's eyes scanning him with a medical precision that was as comforting as it was alarming. Dick hovered nearby, feeling utterly useless as Alfred began to strip the wet, cold clothes from his brother's body. The warmth of the room was a stark contrast to the chill that still clung to Jason's skin, a testament to how dangerously cold he had been.

Tim's gaze flickered between the two of them, his mind racing. "How could he be so stupid?" he muttered, more to himself than to Dick. "Out there in this weather, without even a proper plan."

Dick offered a weak smile, his own guilt mirroring Tim's frustration. "He's always had a bit of a hero complex," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "But he's also incredibly selfless."

Tim nodded, his expression softening slightly. "I know," he said, his voice quieter now. "But sometimes I worry he'll push himself too far."

Alfred's gaze met Dick's, a silent understanding passing between them. They had all seen the lengths Jason would go to protect the innocent, often at the cost of his own well-being. It was a trait they both admired and feared in him. The butler turned back to his patient, his movements swift and efficient as he wrapped Jason in warm blankets and began to check his vitals. "We need to warm him up gradually," Alfred said, his eyes never leaving the monitors. "Too fast, and it could be dangerous."

Dick was already stripping off his damp clothes, replacing them with a set of Alfred's spare pajamas that the butler kept in the medical bay for just such emergencies. The fabric was soft and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, wet material he had been wearing. He slid into the bed next to Jason, his body heat seeping into the other man's side. Tim did the same, his own pajamas a slightly less dignified affair of Carebear-themed shirt and sleep shorts.

They lay there in silence, their bodies pressed together to provide what warmth they could. Dick felt the cold radiating from Jason's skin, a stark reminder of the battle they were fighting. He could feel the steady rhythm of Tim's heartbeat through the mattress, a comforting presence in the otherwise tense room.

"Nice PJs, Tim," Dick murmured, his voice a low rumble in the quiet. "I didn't know you were a Carebear fan."

Tim rolled his eyes, a hint of a smile playing on his lips despite the gravity of the situation. "Shut up, Dick," he said, though there was no real heat behind his words. He tucked one of the blankets around Jason more securely, ensuring that the heat they were generating was trapped. "Bruce found them in a thrift store and thought they'd be funny. They're surprisingly comfortable."

Dick chuckled, the sound a little forced, but it helped break the tension. "Well, if Bruce approved, I guess they're officially cool," he said, his hand finding Tim's under the blankets, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tim's hand was cold, but it was already starting to warm up against his own.

They lay there for what felt like hours, their combined body heat gradually seeping into Jason's frigid form. Dick felt the cold in his own bones begin to dissipate, the warmth of Tim's body a comforting presence beside him. They were a makeshift family, bound by a shared history and a commitment to a cause that was greater than any one of them. The quiet hum of the medical equipment filled the room, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the lengths they would go to protect it.

Then, a sudden shift in the air. Jason stirred, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, they were unfocused, glazed over with the haze of unconsciousness. But then, they fixed on Tim, and a weak smile ghosted across his face. "You're...really wearing...Carebear pajamas?" he managed, his voice a hoarse whisper.

Tim rolled his eyes, but the smile that tugged at his lips was genuine. "Shut up, Jase," he said, his voice thick with relief. "You're going to be okay."

Dick felt his own chest tighten at the words. "You're not dying on me," he murmured, his hand still clutching Jason's. "Not like this."

Tim's eyes were wet, but he didn't bother to wipe away the tears. "You hear that, Jase?" he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not going anywhere."

Jason's eyes remained closed, but a faint smile played on his lips. "Love...you...both," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Dick felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. It wasn't often that Jason showed his softer side, but when he did, it was like a punch to the gut. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and a bond that had been forged in the fires of Gotham's streets.

Tim's hand tightened around Dick's, a silent acknowledgment of the gravity of the moment. They had all lost so much, endured so much pain together, but here they were, a trio of misfits, bound by a love that was as fierce as it was complicated. For a brief second, the tension in the room dissipated, replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the blankets surrounding them.

The three of them lay there, their breathing synchronized as the warmth of their bodies slowly brought Jason back from the brink. Dick felt the tension in Jason's muscles ease, the shivering subsiding into the gentle rise and fall of deep sleep. The steady beep of the heart monitor was the only sound in the room, a metronome keeping time with their collective sigh of relief.

Tim's eyes remained on Jason, his gaze unwavering as he held onto his hand. Dick knew the feeling, the need to reassure themselves that their brother was truly okay. But exhaustion was tugging at the edges of his consciousness, the weight of the night's events making his eyelids feel like lead. He could feel the warmth of Tim's body beside him, the younger man's breathing evening out as he too succumbed to sleep.

The room grew quiet, the only sounds the soft snores of the three of them and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. The warmth of their bodies had created a bubble of comfort around Jason, the cold a distant memory as they all fell into a deep slumber. The medical bay was no longer a stark reminder of the dangers they faced but a sanctuary where they could find peace, if only for a brief while.

As the night gave way to a cold, grey dawn, Alfred entered the room, his expression a mix of relief and concern. He had been notified of their arrival by the security system and had been waiting anxiously for any signs of movement. He checked the monitors, his eyes lingering on the steady rise and fall of Jason's chest. Satisfied that the crisis had passed, he covered them with an additional blanket, his gaze lingering on the trio before he retreated to his own quarters.

thanks for reading!!

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