Chapter Text
Lush swathes of green sprawled across the planet’s surface, broken only by pools and ribbons of shimmering violet water. It was pristine, untouched by the ravages of war. For now.
Dick eagerly glanced back at his padawan sitting behind him in the cockpit. The eleven-year-old was being suspiciously quiet. “What do you think? Still boring?”
Damian shook his head. His green eyes stayed fixed on the scenery below their Jedi starfighter. “It’s beautiful, Master.”
“Being a Jedi isn’t always about being in the middle of a fight,” said Dick, “We’re peacekeepers, meant to help maintain balance the same way we balance the Force in ourselves. Above all, we protect and preserve life.” It was a lesson Master Bruce taught him as a padawan. Though Dick was still figuring out how to impart those same lessons now that the Jedi were soldiers themselves and he was a general. The galaxy was always filled with its fair share of troubles but Dick wasn’t trained in the midst of a galactic war.
“I understand.” Damian said, still too awed for his usual stubbornness to appear.
“Good. Keeping that in mind, tell me why we’re here.” His padawan began speaking, explaining their mission that Dick knew by heart, but Dick wasn’t listening anymore. The Force was alerting him, warning him, but to what? No enemy ships appeared on his radar and their clones hadn’t raised the alarm either.
The clones. Dick looked up from the numerous panels and readouts to see the clones’ fighters breaking formation and dropping back to fly behind him. Normally it wouldn’t be a reason for concern. Their mission was only a land survey, not a dogfight or aerial assault. But Dick listened when the Force insistently rippled again and he banked hard.
The stream of laser bolts barely missed them, punching through clouds instead.
“Master!” Damian yelped in panic from the passenger seat as Dick threw them into a steep nose dive. The force of it pinned them back against their seats. Like a swarm of insects, the clones followed them down.
“Stay strapped in!” Dick barked. All of his focus was on out maneuvering the gunners and the tall vegetation punching through the canopy. Blaster shots rattled the ship and alarms began rapidly beeping. Blast it, the rear shield was failing. But Dick didn’t panic. He was a good pilot, not as good as Skywalker, but good enough that he knew they would escape.
With another drastic dive, the starfighter burst into the first layer of the canopy. “When I say bail, you bail!” He shouted. “Grab the survival bag and strap it on. Do not lose it.” He could hear Damian yank the sturdy bag from a compartment and awkwardly shrug it on in his seat. Good. If Dick didn’t make it, at least Damian would have what he needed. He said a silent thank you to Master Bruce for teaching him to be so prepared.
Their ship slammed through another layer of the canopy. Branches and giant leaves thumped and slapped against the hull, sending a web of cracks across the glass. When the greenery finally parted, they were greeted by a rapidly approaching river.
“Master–!”
“Bail!” The cockpit panel shot back and Damian leapt out of the ship with perfect form. Dick stayed only a second longer before also leaping out. He landed on solid ground at the same time the ship crashed into the churning waters with a boom, water spraying high in the air . Dick ducked his head as droplets splashed on him. His poor ship. With any luck the clones would see it and waste time searching the river to find their bodies. Even if it only bought them a few minutes.
“I hear them coming!” panted Damian, running over as he pointed at the sky.
“Quick! Into the forest.” They raced through the alien fauna, zigzagging from one colossal plant to another in an attempt to hide. The climate was annoyingly humid and Damian slipped on the wet moss and mud covering the forest floor several times.
Dick hauled him to his feet by his arm, glancing over his shoulder. “Keep going. Stay ahead of me.” Something was wrong. With the clones and with the Force itself. A sudden wave of pain and loss slammed into him and Dick almost lost his footing as well.
“What was that?" Damian shuddered. He must've felt it too, though not as intense.
Before Dick could repeat his commands to Damian, a blaster bolt shot over their heads. “Get down!” He ordered, spinning around and igniting his lightsaber. Another bolt came shooting out of the jungle and Dick deflected it into the ground. If their enemy was shooting blind, it was better to not give away their position.
The trees fell silent. Wordlessly, Dick motioned for Damian to get up and keep going. They barely covered any ground when a speeder bike came screaming through the brush. “Don’t stop!” Dick shouted, lightsaber spinning as he blocked the slew of bolts. But there was nowhere to run. Another two quickly joined the first. The bikes sped around them in a tight circle and their riders jumped off. They were trapped in a ring of blasters.
“Triple, please.” Damian whimpered to a clone commander, even with his lightsaber drawn and body in a battle stance. The clone, who used to be so fond of Damian, always sharing war stories and teasing him, didn’t budge.
“What’s going on soldiers?” Dick said, his lightsaber also raised. If he was going to move, it would have to be now and it would have to be fast. He cast his mind back to discussions with Wally about using the Force to boost his speed.
Triple raised his rifle a little higher. The other two clones followed suit. Damian flinched. “Good clones follow orders, sir.”
In the time it took for the clones' fingers to flex, squeezing down on the trigger, Dick was moving. He lunged forward, seizing Damian and dragging him to the ground where he shielded the boy with his body. Using the Force, he realigned the clones’ blasters so when time snapped back into motion, the blaster bolts slammed into their comrades helmets.
In the blink of an eye all three clones, their friends, dropped to the ground. Dead.
Damian was shaking as he stared at the bodies. When Dick dragged him to his feet, he stumbled like a newborn foal. But they had to go. They weren’t safe yet.
"Why are the clones attacking us, Master?” Damian panted, “I thought they were our friends. Or at least our allies!”
But Dick didn’t have any answers. He still didn’t have any after hours of weaving through the forest until they found a small and well-hidden cave to take shelter in for the night. And none came despite replaying that transmission over and over again.
“But we must persevere. And in time, a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you, always.”
Dick shut off the message and ran a hand over his face. His breath was warm against his palm, warmer than the damp cave air. The Jedi Order, his entire life, was over. No matter how many times he replayed it, it still didn’t feel real. Behind him, Damian stirred in his sleep and Dick set a hand on his arm, both to soothe Damian and reassure himself that he was alive. It was a small mercy that the boy could sleep at all, curled into a tight ball. The hard packed earth couldn’t be very comfortable and it took a while to coax Damian’s breathing back into a normal rhythm.
Once Damian was settled, Dick turned his attention back to the message, trying to pick out information that wasn’t there. Master Kenobi spoke of the Empire but that only left Dick with more questions. And the Temple…what happened there? Why couldn’t they return? If he wasn’t careful and dwelled too long on the possibilities, he would start to succumb to fear. Because Master Bruce was there with his padawan as they rested between missions. So were Donna and Cassie. Clark and Kon. What about all the Jedi out in the field? Were they going through the same ordeal as him?
He tried soothing himself with the reminder that Jason was on an undercover mission in the underbelly of Coruscant. If something was happening, he was close enough to help. It wasn’t much but it was all Dick had. Because anytime he reached out to the Force, to try and feel for his fellow Jedi and friends, he was overwhelmed by so much death and grief it made him physically sick. An hour ago he’d felt Roy die and risked sitting in the mouth of the cave for fresh air.
Roy, Donna, Wally. One by one they were lost that night. Dick knew he needed to let them go. Accept that even if he didn’t know why, they'd returned to and were now one with the Force. Which meant they were still with him, in a way. But the injustice of it tore at him. It was all he could do to keep his sorrow at bay for Damian’s sake. They’d only been master and padawan for six months and it was still so new to both of them. Dick regularly sought his old master’s advice on how best to guide his student. But now–
A branch snapped outside their cave. His hand flew to the lightsaber on his belt and drew it slowly, waiting to ignite it in case the glow gave them away. There was a soft shuffling sound and Dick reluctantly drew on the Force, pushing past the anguish to try and sense what was there. Whatever it was, it was small. Not a clone ready to ambush them. A quiet animalistic grunt confirmed Dick’s suspicions. Still, he waited until all was quiet before setting the weapon down.
A few practiced deep breaths settled some of his frayed nerves. By his hip, Damian mumbled in his sleep, the survival bag still strapped onto his back. The poor kid was exhausted from their past week of missions in addition to today. This survey was supposed to be a break for them. Something quiet and away from the front.
Sorrow once again rose like a tide in Dick's chest as he looked at the short padawan braid dangling over Damian’s neck. They’d have to cut it off before they entered any inhabited area. No celebration. No advancement. This was life or death and nothing would give them away faster. Damian was so proud of it too. To have been chosen by a Knight.
Swallowing hard, Dick activated the holocron. It brought sorely needed comfort to see a familiar face. With their communicators offline, no news or answers would come through.
“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen…”
Kenobi’s volume was low but at this point Dick may as well have the message memorized. Beside him, Damian was awake and wiggling closer. Dick set a hand on his back as they watched together.
“ This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in the Force.”
---
“Kon, stop it.”
The older boy looked at Tim with a mischievous smile. “I didn't say anything. You’re the one who thought it.”
“You implied it. Heavily!” Tim hissed under his breath before casting a quick look over at his master. They were in one of the sublevels of the Jedi Temple’s archive, fresh from a stint out on Felucia. They were only given a week back on Coruscant before their next mission. Bruce made it very clear their time wouldn’t be spent only resting. Research needed to be done for their next mission. But his master did acknowledge rest was needed, hence Kon helping Tim search through the shelves. Of course, if he saw they were too distracted, Master Bruce would send him away.
“Tsk, tsk. What a twisted mind you have.” Kon-El teased. “Planning on hanging out in smugglers dens like Master Quinlan and Jason?”
“Maybe.” Tim reached for a book in a locked case, setting it on the cart behind him. “Undercover work sounds exciting, don’t you think?”
“And that’s what you want? Excitement? Not sitting in one of the Temple labs building new and awe-inspiring devices?” Kon raised an eyebrow, reaching blindly for the shelf as Tim stepped in for a book as well. They were inches apart now, Kon's hand resting on the shelf beside Tim's shoulder. All laughter vanished as the air grew heavy and their eyes locked on each other. They’d been dancing around their feelings for years. Claiming to only be friends to explain the late nights sitting shoulder to shoulder on the temple roof, constantly finding excuses to be together, stolen looks. But they were seventeen now. If they still felt this way after so long it must mean something…
"I can be persuaded to stay at the Temple.” A boldness rose up in Tim, as if some little voice in him were saying ‘now or never’ . He reached for Kon’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It felt warm, comforting. “If…that’s where you’ll be.”
“Tim,” There was a warning tone in Kon’s voice even as he squeezed Tim’s hand. “Attachments–”
“We'll learn to love and let go. Healthy attachment.” His heart was pounding so hard he could swear his tan robes were moving with it.
The resistance in Kon’s eyes broke as he rubbed Tim’s knuckles with his thumb. It sent a thrill through him. “Healthy attachment.” Kon repeated before smiling.
The urge to kiss him then and there was overwhelming but Tim pushed it down. There was no need to rush this, they had time. They could enjoy this. “Maybe tomorrow we could–”
An explosion cut Tim off. Several rows behind them, Bruce’s head shot up. “Stay here.” He ordered as he marched to the doors, his black robe billowing slightly. When they swung open, new sounds came echoing from the halls.
“Blaster shots.” Kon breathed. His grip tightened on Tim’s hand. More shots, even closer now, followed by the distinct sound of a lightsaber deflecting them.
“Master!” Tim pulled away from Kon, rushing towards the open doors. His own weapon snapped into his hand and he was about to rush out after Bruce when the man came running back in, the doors slamming behind him.
“We’re under attack. The clones have turned on us,” He said quickly, “You need to escape. I’ll cover the hallway while you head for the service corridors and get out into the city.”
“What? No, we need to defend the temple!”
“Tim,” Bruce gripped his shoulders, “There will be a time to fight but now is the time to run. You run and you don’t stop.”
“But I–”
“You can do this, Tim." Bruce urged, guessing his padawan’s fear. “You’re one of the most talented padawans I’ve seen. It won’t be long until you go to the Trials.” As Tim gawked, Bruce’s gaze dropped to Tim's hand, once again clasped in Kon's. His eyes softened. "Trust no one but each other and the Force.”
“Come with us, Master. If now isn’t the time to fight then come with us!” Bruce merely stood and reignited his blue lightsaber. “You’ll find us, right?” Tim continued pleading, “Afterwards, you’ll come find us?” If Master Bruce was talking about the Trials then whatever was happening would pass, right? Why did he have such a solemn air about him? What was he hiding?
“I’ll find you. One way or another, I’ll find you.” It was placating, meant to get him moving, but Tim clung to Bruce’s promise anyway. “May the Force be with you both.” said Bruce before he stepped back into the hall, saber flashing as he deflected red blaster bolts. "Go! Don’t look back!”
Hand in hand, Tim and Kon sprinted down the hall. Despite Bruce’s orders, Tim risked a look over his shoulder. He immediately regretted it.
Bodies. There were bodies sprawled on the temple floor. Some were too small and the horrifying realization that they were younglings with training sabers still in their hands almost undid Tim. This was what Bruce tried to hide.
Standing above them, still shooting, were clone troopers. Men he’d fought alongside. Laughed with. Trusted. Now there were so many of them, all firing on Master Bruce. Too many for even him to hold off.
A bolt slipped through Bruce's defenses, striking him in the leg. He staggered but quickly recovered and deflected a bolt back into the chest of the clone who fired it. For only a split second, Bruce glanced back at them, long enough to catch Tim’s eye as he climbed through the narrow service doorway.
Then…Bruce smiled. And Tim knew exactly what his master wanted to say but couldn’t. How being Tim’s teacher and fighting alongside him was an honor. That Bruce was proud of him and loved him. Hoping his own face said the same, Tim bit back a sob and slammed the door shut behind him.
For once, his mischievous adventures as a kid paid off. Dick used to take Tim into these maintenance tunnels all the time. They’d sneak around the Temple and pretend to be on courier duty if they were caught. But those memories left a bitter taste as Tim led Kon under the Temple. The sound of blaster fire was growing, along with the screams. He tried hard not to pick out the voices. In one section an explosion left a tear in the walls, letting them glimpse a too quiet hallway with even more bodies crumpled on the ground. They moved quicker after that.
“We should be getting close to an exit. It’ll let us out by the service bays.” Tim whispered over his shoulder. “Getting into the city should be easy from there.” He tried hailing Dick on his communicator again but there was still no answer. Why wouldn’t he answer? He could help when they reached the city. Then they’d be able to go back for Bruce and all get off world.
A loud bang echoed down the tunnel. Radios squawked behind them and they both froze. The world dropped from under Tim as he realized two things.
His master was dead.
His killers were coming after them.
“Run.” Kon urged and they broke into a dead sprint, sliding around corners.
“There!” Tim panted. Only a gate separating them from escape. Kon thrust out his hand and it slammed open. He paused long enough to force it shut again, crumpling the frame around it.
Neon lights assaulted their eyes when they emerged from the tunnel. It was night but there was a foreign orange glow in the sky, like a sunrise. When Tim turned and saw where it was coming from, bile rose in his throat. The Temple, the only home he'd ever known, burned like a funeral pyre.
Kon tugged on his hand, his watery eyes also fixed on the plumes of smoke. “We need to keep moving. Come on–”
The sniper’s bolt slammed into his chest, ripping their hands apart. Tim couldn’t silence his anguished cry as Kon hit the ground. “No, no! Stay with me, Kon.” He dropped to his knees, hands fluttering over the gaping wound. “Please, don’t leave me! I need you!”
“Love and let go, right?” Labored breaths washed over Tim’s trembling hand as Kon pulled it to his lips.
“I love you,” Tim sobbed, “But I don’t want to let go. I'm not ready.” Another sniper bolt smacked into the ground beside them with a whop. He was wasting precious seconds but he couldn’t leave. He just couldn’t.
Kon's smile was a fragile thing. He was fading quickly. “Run, Tim. Live knowing that I loved you too.”
Sobbing through his clenched teeth, Tim scrambled to his feet. He sprinted hard, feet pounding against the street as blaster bolts struck his footprints. A dark alleyway promised safety. Shelter. If only he could run a few more feet.
Pain finally pierced his side, sending him sprawling face first in the street. The blaster shot burned like fire as Tim pushed himself up and ignited his lightsaber. A halo of green surrounded him as he deflected another sniper bolt aimed for his now bleeding head.
A squad of clones came running over with their blasters raised, ready to gun him down. One clone went over and nudged Kon’s unmoving body with his foot, his limp arm still outstretched towards Tim. Then he pointed his blaster at Kon’s head.
Rage overwhelmed Tim. He was powerless to stop it from crashing over him like a wave. They’d already taken everything from him, why was’t that enough? A good Jedi Knight would’ve allowed their anger to pass. They would’ve acknowledged the pain but not acted from it.
But Tim was no Knight. And now, with the temple blazing before him, he never would be.
He thrust out his hand with a scream that tore up his throat. The fifteen clones surrounding him and Kon rocketed back with a power he’d never possessed before. A power that should’ve scared him. But Tim only felt satisfaction as bodies clattered and skittered across the ground like a handful of discarded pebbles. None of those clones would kill again.
With one hand still pressed to the blaster wound, a ghostly imprint of a kiss on it, Tim slumped forward. Clones were shouting to hold fire but he didn’t care. When he tipped over, he didn’t catch himself. And when black crept around the edge of his vision, Tim gladly closed his eyes and sank into it.
5 years later
“I hate Bespin.”
“This isn’t Bespin.”
“No, it’s just a cheap imitation of Bespin which makes me hate it even more.” Scowling, Jason tugged his hood lower over his face as he crept along the roof of the floating compound. The fabric was damp from practically wading through the dense clouds. But intel came in that a high inquisitor, the First Brother, was here, in a relatively unsecured location, and it was as good a shot as they were going to get. Kill the heir and let chaos reign as the rest of the inquisitors fought amongst themselves for the coveted spot.
“I’m almost to the entry point.” Jason whispered into the black mask covering the lower half of his face.
“We’re in position in case you need a quick getaway.” His contact replied over the comms.
Jason rolled his eyes as he pried a vent cover off. “Just make sure that damn droid has control of the cameras.” He wasn’t leaving here without the Inquisitor's head.
It was a tight fit but Jason managed to crawl through the vent and into a janitorial closet where he stayed crouched and counting until the night patrol passed by right on cue. There was barely a whisper of sound as Jason stepped out from the closet and seized the Stormtrooper around the neck.
The man thrashed in his arms but Jason held tight, crushing his windpipe. “Sweet dreams.” He whispered as he left the unconscious body in the closet. His footsteps were soft as he crept down the hall, the way he’d been taught by an assassin in the outer rim. A quiet death sneaking towards the private chambers up ahead.
“Something’s off.” His contact worried in his ear. “It’s too easy.”
“Or maybe I'm that good. Shut up.”
The lock disengaged with a remote command and Jason caught the door with the Force, letting it slowly slide open only enough for him to slip in. It was a bedroom–like his shadily acquired schematics said it would be–and utterly devoid of any personality or comfort save for the bed.
The empty bed.
“I felt your presence on the roof.” Jason went rigid, heart rate spiking as his head snapped towards the voice. Standing in an oddly relaxed stance in the shadows on his right was the First Brother. “Don’t worry,” He said, “I haven’t alerted anyone. I wanted to meet the person bold enough to try and kill me in my sleep.”
“Here, you’ve met me.” Jason forced lazy nonchalance into his voice. “Now if you’d be kind enough to get back in bed, I can finish the job.”
The Inquisitor’s laugh was low and predatory. “There’s the irreverence I was expecting from the infamous Jason Todd.” A bolt of fear shot through Jason. He knows who I am? “Maybe it’s time you knew who you’re facing.” A single scarlet blade ignited, the red glow illuminating the round saber hilt and robed form of the Inquisitor. But it was his face that left Jason truly speechless.
Tim.
Little Tim Drake. Master Bruce’s second padawan who Jason used to tease as they trained together in the Temple. He'd been a little insecure but so brilliant and promising. And one of the many dead.
Presumed dead.
A sick smirk pulled at Tim’s lips, not quite reaching his shadowed eyes. “That’s better.” He said before launching himself at Jason in a blur of black and red.
Jason’s white blades flared to life just in time to catch the Inquisitor’s strike. He was moving too slow. Tim’s reveal knocked him off balance, as intended. Fine, he could return the favor. Fighting dirty was easier anyway.
“When did you turn traitor?” Jason said, “Was it before or after they murdered your master?”
His plan backfired immediately. Tim thrust both hands forward and sent him slamming back through the bedroom doors. He crashed into the hallway, winded and gasping. The reports of the First Brother’s power weren't an exaggeration. Bruce hadn't been exaggerating when he talked about his padawan’s skills and potential. Blast it, Jason was in trouble.
“Where were you when the Temple fell?” Tim drawled. He stalked down the hallway, both blades split into two separate swords and lit. The tips dragged along the floor, crackling as they left behind smoldering grooves. “Were you gambling? Drinking? Already wasted? Were you high as you watched the Temple fire illuminate the city? Tell me what cowardly thing you were doing, Jedi–” he spat the word out like a curse, “–and I might let you live.”
Jason settled into a fighting stance with his blades raised, pushing back the tangle of pain that arose any time he thought of that day. “I was hoping you were dead. So that all the lives you’ve taken since would be spared.”
Anger twisted Tim’s face, the blasé attitude gone. Their blades crashed together in a flurry of sparks. Jason’s lightsabers were constantly spinning to keep Tim at bay. Tim’s strikes were powerful and relentless as he drove forward, moving them back through the compound. The First Brother fought with the tight, controlled precision of the Sith but underneath it were the graceful spins Master Bruce taught them all.
When they passed under cooling pipes, Jason yanked down with the Force. A cloud of white exploded in the hallway, destroying all visibility.
“Coward!” Tim roared as Jason ran under the cover he created.
Maybe. Or maybe this plan was doomed from the start, he was just too stubborn to give up. Time to regroup and process everything he learned. “Looks like I need that extract after all.” Jason panted into his comm as he sprinted towards the hanger.
“What’s happening?”
“I know when I’m outmatched, that's what’s happening!” The hanger doors whooshed open just as Jason felt his feet leave the ground. “Oh sh–”
---
Tim smiled with satisfaction as he hurled Jason across the bay to slam into the wall with a clang. He yanked the man back to hover in the middle of the room as he closed an invisible vise around Jason’s chest.
“Jason?” The communicator in his mask shouted, “Jason, what’s going on?”
“Is that all you have? Cheap tricks?” With a flick of his wrist, the mask ripped off of Jason’s face and crumpled into a sizzling mess. “I’m disappointed. I remember you being a much better swordsman.”
“You’re not the only one who’s disappointed.” Jason wheezed. “Did you laugh when they slaughtered the younglings? Did you help?”
Anger swelled in Tim at the same time the echoes of blaster shots filled his ears. He blinked and saw the flash of bodies sprawled in scorched Temple halls.
That momentary distraction was what Jason had been counting on. A wall of power slammed into Tim, making him stumble back and lose his hold on Jason. The man dropped to the ground with a cough, drawing his sabers once more.
But there was something in that power. That was the Force but…twisted. Impure. A wicked smile spread across Tim’s face. “Hypocrite.” He slammed his own wall of dark power into Jason’s back at the same time he lunged forward and slashed.
Jason bellowed as the tip of the lightsaber tore across his face. He staggered away and dropped to one knee, struggling to breath through the agony. Tim watched impassively, blades extinguished. There would be no more blows exchanged. He knew which weakness to exploit now.
“I can see it. You’ve touched the dark side before. Were you really that frightened out on your own in the galaxy? How very un-Jedi of you to stoop so low.”
“Fuck you.” Jason hissed, raising a shaking hand to the cauterized wound now marring his face. “I’m not a Jedi anymore.”
“No, you’re not. Because to them you’d be tainted. Something to strike down because there can be no gray. So why waste time honoring them or fighting to keep such a vast well of power at bay? Embrace the dark side once again, Jason.”
Tim stepped forward, reaching out a hand. “We could do this together. Be a family like before. With me as Grand Inquisitor and you at my side we’d be strong enough to save everyone.” Jason’s hands clenched around the hilts of his blades and the thrill of victory flared in Tim’s chest. “Isn’t that all you want? The power to protect those you love? Keep them with you forever? We all know you and I were never ones to forgo attachments. Loyalty and love go hand in hand for us.”
For a long moment Jason didn’t speak. He only stared at Tim’s outstretched hand then up at his face. As if he were searching for something.
“You’re right. I get too attached.” Jason rose unsteadily to his feet and slipped his sabers back on his belt. His voice was soft. Defeated. Tim took a small, eager step forward. “But it’s never too late to let go. Goodbye, little brother.” Closing his eyes, Jason stepped back and off the platform, arms spread as he plummeted through the clouds to his death.
“No!” Tim lunged forward in time to see a starfighter come bursting through the clouds below. Jason landed on the wing, holding tight as a hatch opened on the side of the ship. Even from this distance the violent red and black bisecting his cheek stood out.
The ship wheeled around, offering a look into its cockpit where, shouting commands Tim couldn’t hear, Jedi Knight Dick Grayson sat.
He was alive.
He was free.
He didn’t come for him.
He abandoned him.
The ship vanished into a column of clouds as Tim screamed in fury.
---
"It can't be." Dick whispered, face contorted in horror. The bacta patch slipped from his fingers. Shaking his head, he backed away from Jason. "No, you’re wrong. Tim died, he…"
"It’s him, Dick." Jason gave him a grim look in the mirror, smoothing another patch onto his face. Bloody washcloths filled the metal sink. Tim’s saber sliced him from the corner of his mouth all the way up along his cheekbone. It was neater than the blood and burns made it look but it would scar. No amount of healing patches would fix it.
"No, no, no. Not him.” The words cracked as Dick slid to the floor of the small medical bay and cradled his head in his hands. "Oh Tim. What did they do to turn him into such a monster?" It wasn’t a question that begged for or wanted an answer. They both knew what happened to captured Jedi. What brutal torment awaited them under the Fortress Inquisitorious.
"I'm sorry. I wish I was lying." He truly did. Because Tim was right, he got too attached. Jason wasn’t trained by Bruce, Master Quinlan Vos was his teacher, but he joined Bruce and Dick on quite a few missions. Even before they were padawans, Dick and Jason were close friends. Sometimes he suspected that was why their masters took missions together, despite not really getting along.
So when Tim became Bruce's next padawan, Jason happily embraced him, taking what spare time he had to help train the boy. As Bruce’s first padawan, Dick was even closer to Tim and the legacy they were a part of. Of course he was like a brother to them.
With a sigh, Jason slid down next to him. Only half his cut was patched but Dick used a generous amount of numbing spray. It could wait a few more minutes. “He asked me where I was when the Temple fell. And I…I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was saving other younglings who’d escaped into the city. But I couldn’t get to him.”
“I took my communicator offline when escaping our clones so we couldn’t be tracked. I never got his calls,” Dick twisted his fingers in his hair, a telltale shine to his blue eyes. “Even if I had answered, I couldn’t have reached him. It took us a week to get off that planet alone. By then he was probably–” He broke off, slowly shaking his head. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the hum of hyperspace.
“Did we fail him?” Dick asked quietly.
“Yes,” Jason said, “and no.”
“Cut the bullshit.”
“That’s the truth, Dick. We saved who we could. But we couldn’t save him.”