Chapter Text
Clark and Tim slowly made their way back to the kid's room, and Jason was surprised at how little Tim protested during their short trek. He was sure that if it had been him in Clark's position, Tim would have made up some argument as to why he shouldn't be going back to bed.
Jason's heart sank horribly at the thought.
He was glad that Clark could handle Tim so effortlessly, but at the same time, he felt that he was missing a crucial piece of information. It was as if he had failed once again without even knowing how.
Sitting there in the little kitchen of that two-bedroom apartment, Jason suddenly felt completely lost. He had strayed so far from his original course, and now all that was left was just a growing pool of dark and bubbling liquid that burned his entire esophagus, insistently, with the need to escape.
Guilt.
He hated how it felt. There was only one thing he could do about it.
Jason stood up and began walking across the cold wooden floors toward Tim's room.
The scar running from his knee to his ankle made his walking stiff, and his once-cracked hip bone radiated pain at every other movement.
Jason was so tired, but it would all be better soon. He was sure.
He arrived at the slightly ajar door of Tim's room and stood outside. Everything was too much. He wanted to be done. The feeling was burning ardently. He wanted it gone.
Jason peeked inside the room. Clark sat by Tim's bed, talking to the boy in a soft voice. His tone was gentle and warm, and though Jason's mind couldn't make out any of the words being spoken, Clark's words seemed to have a calming effect on Tim.
The burning increased.
A part of Jason screaming at him, telling him it should have been him helping Tim, but he ignored it. Clark being there was the only thing allowing him to take the path he should have taken a while ago. Jealousy was useless in such a case.
Jason made his way to his room and pulled the corkboard from under his bed.
---
Tim not wanting to talk about what had happened at the hospital had been one of the only certainties Clark had had when he had walked into the apartment. Having known the kid for a bit now, Clark was aware of how tight of a lid he kept on his emotions and how often he seemed to struggle to keep them in check for other people's sake. Clark knew what it was like-- to try to keep everything going even when your insides were in turmoil-- and he knew how hard it was to keep that mask on, especially when its straps had been overextended. The solution, for him, had always been isolation and avoidance, but it wasn't one he would have ever recommended to anyone. And so, when Tim had asked him to stay with him until he fell asleep, Clark had obliged and began recounting one of the many Kryptonian stories he had memorized during his youth.
Clark told Tim about Nightwing and Flamebird and about a civilization far away, long lost to time. Clark wished he could have told him more-- he wished he had first-hand experience to describe the beauty of Argo and Candor-- and made a mental note to take Tim to the fortress one day so he could see it all. There would be time later on; for now, Clark would accompany Tim in the present as the kid succumbed to sleep.
In that state, the kid looked as if he was finally free from the internal struggle that had plagued him since the hospital. However, Clark knew that the death of Jack Drake would have continuing consequences no matter how much the kid had tried to assure him that he was fine and that he had seen his father's death as inevitable. Clark didn't believe Tim's claims, but he wouldn't push.
There would be time.
Later.
---
Jason didn't know how many hours he had spent locked up in his room, but he was sure that if the Gotham sky hadn't been grey and stormy, he would have been able to see the sun. The night had passed, but the darkness still held fiercely to the city's forseeable future.
Jason put on his suit-- the action quick and automatic-- and then he walked to the window. He hadn't bothered putting his old corkboard back under the bed-- it was useless now. He needed to start again; he needed to do it right this time around.
Jason opened the window and the rain droplets that had been splattering on the glass for the past hours rushed inside like tiny projectiles. Jason took one last breath and exited into the fire escape.
The water slid off his suit as he climbed up to the rooftop, tight grip on each metal rung, wind bitting even through the layers of Kevlar. He had scaled those stairs hundreds of times during the months they had been living there. However, the metal had never been so slippery, and the distance had never been as long.
A lightning cloud lighted up the sky. Jason felt his grip faltered as he continued. If he could only reach the top, then it would all be alright--
He heard a window below him open. He didn't look down.
---
"It was the strangest feeling," Clark said, "and it was so sudden too-- I was right there-- I was about to follow Jason, and then... it all went so quiet. My powers were gone."
"But you have no idea what caused this?" Dick asked, taking his mask off. He had rushed off patrol as soon as he had received Clark's message.
Clark shook his head. "I did not feel like kryptonite poisoning, but that's not the issue right now."
Dick nodded in understanding and turned to walk up the short stairs to the Batcomputer. Clark followed.
"Any updates?" He asked.
"Barbara has contacted the whole team," Tim answered from where he was sitting by the computer next to Oracle, who was completely focused on the screen in front of her. "They are all searching the area."
Barbara muttered something. Tim nodded, understanding her unique form of communication, and turned back to his screen.
"We are searching the security cameras nearby to see if they picked up anything," Tim continued, "And we are also checking for any criminals he might be going after."
"Did you make anything out of the plans he left behind?" Clark asked.
"That was his old stuff. Most of the people he was following are either missing or back in Arkham."
"So it is useless," Barbar said. "I am trying to get into his coms but no success yet."
"He doesn't want us following him, but we can't have that," Dick said, "I am going to head back out. Let me know of any updates."
Dick walked towards his motorcycle and put on his helmet.
He didn't let the anxiety take hold of him. He needed to find Jason. He needed to bring him home once and for all. He needed to end it now.