Chapter Text
Jason is very well acquainted with the feeling of fear. He has experienced everything from some nerves being kicked off to pure and deathly fear. But he can only recall a handful of times when he was as terrified as he is right now.
He watches as Dick closes his eyes, that bloody gun against his temple, ready to pull the trigger and there is nothing he can do about it. He's scared that if he makes a sudden move he'll startle Dick and he'll accidentally pull it or something.
So he is staying in front of him, frozen in shock and simply stares. Hoping, praying, begging for some sort of miracle that will save Dick. Because he can't lose him. He can't fucking lose his big brother. No matter how much he and Dick fight, bicker or argue, he couldn't live without him. Ever since he became Robin Dick had always been there, always been around. Yes their relationship has been everything else than easy but he is his older brother and Jason loves him. He won't ever admit that to a living soul but of course he loves him.
That's why the sight in front of him is so so terrifying.
“Dick please—!” He begs once again desperately as tears scream down his face but he isn't sure if Dick is even hearing him anymore at this point. If he is, he doesn't react to it in the slightest.
Jason feels the incredible need to throw up and he feels like all the air is leaving his lungs as he sees Dick starting to apply pressure on the trigger. And all he can do is stare. The great Red Hood, the second Robin, the guy that came back from the dead, and all he can do is stand here and watch. Watch as his brother is about to blow his brains out.
But right as Dick is starting to apply more pressure, the door suddenly snaps open in a metallic hiss. Immediately fresh and clean air streams into the room and with a wheeze the gas, that had been seeking through the sealing, dies down. For a second the room is left in complete silence before the chaos returns.
For only a second Jason snaps his eyes to the door, trying to quietly understand what just happened. And he almost lets out a relieved sigh once he identifies the Robin costume in his short glance. A miracle. A fucking miracle.
Immediately his eyes return to Dick who still holds the gun to his head but seems like he is frozen in place. Without thinking about it further, Jason urges towards him and in a swift motion he grabs onto the gun, turning it to the side—just in time as Dick releases the pressure on the trigger and the shot fires.
For a second Jason only stares after the bullet, watching as it hits the wall next to them and falls down on the ground. If he had been anything but a second later, that bullet would be in his brother's skull now. And the realization of that leaves his hands trembling and breathing hitch.
Because fuck, that was too close. Way too fucking close.
His gaze snaps back to Dick in an instant and he notices how terrible he looks. His eyes are wide, terrified and fixed on the bullet, while his whole body is trembling. The gun in his hand suddenly seems too heavy as Jason notices his grip loosening slightly and immediately he knocks it out of Dicks hand. As it hits the ground with a loud thud, Dicks gaze finally snaps back to him.
“Wha— what the hell Dick?!”, he exclaims terrified and grabs Dicks shoulders with both of his hands. Partly to show Dick his displeasure about what he just did, partly because he needs to hold onto him right now. He needs to make sure that his brother really is standing in front of him, alive and breathing.
“I—” Dick doesn’t finish whatever he must have tried to say, instead he simply looks at Jason, as if he is as perplexed as he is. Jason holds back the urge to shake him to his senses and simply continues staring into his eyes.
Just as he is about to say something, Damian reminds them of his presence. “You can talk about this outside, can you? Red Robin should be leaving the control room right now and there is really no need to continue staying here.”
Jason forces his eyes away from Dick to his youngest brother. Although Damian's voice carries the usual amount of annoyance, Jason can hear the deep concern beneath it and sees the terror of what the kid just witnessed in his posture.
Dick seemingly also caught on to that because suddenly he straightens his shoulders, clenches his fits to suppress its trembling and even has the audacity of putting on a weak smile. “Yeah good Idea baby bat.”
For a second Jason tightens his grip on Dicks shoulders before releasing him with a glare. Jason can't exactly name whatever emotion he is feeling but it comes closest to a mix of sickening worry and pure fury. Because it's so typical for Dick and he hates it. Hates how his brother almost blew his brains out seconds ago and is now putting on an ‘I'm fine’ act for Damian.
But he doesn’t mention any of this as he follows Dick and Damian out of the room, acting like he doesn't see Dick ruffling through the kid's hair for a second and even though Damian pushes his hand away, he stays close to his side.
He keeps quiet for now, waiting till they are alone to address what just happened. Because he will not let Dick get away with all of this, not this time.
-
By the time Jason is finally released from Alfred, it's already deep into the night. When they got out of Riddlers cellar, Tim had already been waiting for them—a knocked out and tied up Riddler next to his feet. Jason had been ready to shoot him right then and there for what he had done to them. For what he had almost done to Dick. But Tim had stopped him. Police were already on their way or something. Usually Jason probably would have argued or just shot him without talking about it further, but he didn't. He wanted to get away from here as quickly as possible, so he just rolled his eyes and agreed with a huff.
He also for once didn't argue when Tim and Damian decided that they should head to Wayne Manor with them. Fine for him, otherwise he would have needed to drive to Blüdheaven to find Dick before talking to him, so it saves him the trouble. Dick also didn't argue with any of this. Although he had a smile plastered on his face, Jason could easily tell that he was mentally too far away to even comprehend what he was agreeing to. Worry made its way through his stomach at the sight and it only increased his need to get done with all of this quickly and finally talk to him.
But then in Wayne Manor he and Dick were immediately pulled aside by Alfred who threatened to call Bruce and let him know what happened if the two of them didn't let him check on them. Both of them gave in quicker than usual, Jason because he had no interest in getting Bruce involved and Dick not wanting to annoy Bruce on the business trip he's on. A people pleaser through and through, although Jason could imagine Dick only saying this as an excuse for something else.
Alfred had looked after Dick first—as Jason urged—and then after him. So now that Jason is finally done with his check up, he starts his search for Dick. He is pretty certain that Dick didn't drive back to Blüdheaven right after his check up so he doesn't bother checking if his bike is still there. For a moment he considers checking Dicks room but eventually decides against it. He already has a vague idea where his brother could be anyways.
He and Dick are pretty similar in that sense, when they need to think about something without anyone around, they tend to go outside for the fresh air. That only leaves the garden and the roof. And knowing Dick, he already starts heading up the stairs.
Something that could almost resemble a smile crosses his features as he finds Dick on the roof, feet hanging off the edge. He knew he'd find him here. But the satisfaction about knowing him so well doesn't stay long and makes way for all of the other emotions that have been bottling up since the guns were revealed.
With heavy but quick steps he makes his way over to his brother. “Dick,” he announces his presence in a low, challenging voice to which the other one only shortly turns to look at him, acknowledging him quietly, before moving his gaze back to the landscape below them. Jason's eyes narrow even more at that and he lets himself fall down next Dick—now sitting next to him and also letting his feet dangle. “We need to talk.”
Dick stays quiet for a long while, avoiding Jason's piercing eyes and instead keeps his gaze on the trees and bushes below them. A gentle breeze is blowing through his hair and he sees the older one closing his eyes for a moment. Jason would probably also enjoy the fresh air running through his lungs if he wouldn't see Dick holding that bloody gun against his skull whenever he closes his eyes.
“Yeah maybe we do,” Dick agrees after a few moments but it doesn't look truly honest. Like he believes otherwise but won't say that for Jason's sake. And that only increases Jason's anger immensely. Because of course Dick would rather pretend like none of this happened and usually Jason would be fine with letting him, but not today. No, today Dick overstept the line and Jason won't tolerate that.
“Of course we do,” he snaps at Dick, every attempt at leading this conversation gently is already forgotten. The fury and sickening concern he felt when he watched Dick apply pressure on the trigger washes over him again and he feels his hand trembling in anger. “Because what the fuck Dick?! What the hell were you even thinking?!”
While he glares at him, he sees Dick flinch ever so slightly and let out a long sigh. If he tries to push the anger down he can see how utterly tired Dick looks—which is extremely concerning in its own way. Dick has always been the definition of energy in Jason's eyes. Always moving, always grinning, always loud. So seeing him without all this energy lets Jason's stomach twist.
Jason has arguably seen more sides of his older brother than anyone else of their siblings. He has seen Dick right after he stopped being Robin, seen the teenager that got into arguments with Bruce almost every time they met and seen Dick trying to handle overwhelmingly stressful situations. He knows so many facades of his brother but still he has never seen him looking this tired—this exhausted.
After pushing the hair out of his face, Dick finally meets his eyes for the first time since their arrival here. He looks so done with everything that Jason almost feels the need to drop the topic so Dick wouldn't look even more tired, but he stays strong.
“Jason,” he starts and there is something in his voice that lets a shiver run down his back. He almost sounds like he is begging Jason to just drop it and let both of them forget all of this happened, but Jason can't. He would want nothing more than just to get rid of the sight forever but he can't and he is certain that he never will.
So instead he cuts Dick up sharply, letting the anger take over the worry and grief for now. “No, don't you dare ‘Jason’ me. You don't get to downplay that shit, Dick. You almost bloody shot yourself today!”
The words come out sharper than Jason intended but he doesn’t regret saying them. Someone needs to voice the truth of what happened and Dick isn't about to do it apparently. Dick only stares at him for a moment before looking away again, fidgeting with his fingers.
And Jason can't take that. He can't take Dick’s silence and he certainly can't watch as Dick pretends like he is fine, like he didn't just almost kill himself in front of him.
Anger continues to rise in him at that and he clenches his fists to calm himself. “You can’t just—you can’t fucking do that to me, Dick.” He hates how his voice breaks but he can't help it. He is still too emotionally drained from all of this and fear is holding him in a chokehold.
As soon as his voice breaks, Dick eyes snap back to him and he sees regret building in them immediately.“I wasn’t trying to—” Dick starts but Jason cuts him off.
“Wasn’t trying to do what exactly?” He wants to see regret in Dick’s eyes but it should be about almost killing himself and not because he is worried about Jason. That's just wrong but so true to who Dick is that it lets his anger increase. “Kill yourself? Are you sure? Because from where I was standing, you sure as hell were! You were more than ready to—”
He cuts himself off, taking a shuttering breath. He doesn't want to say it again because every bloody time he does so, the images come back immediately. The way the gun shivered in his hands, his scared but somehow calm expression that he will never be able to forget. His stomach twists again and he takes another breath to calm himself.
Dick exhales quietly and looks at him with an urgency in his eyes that lets a cold shiver run down his spine. But at least he knows that Dick isn't pretending with him right now and that's worth it. “I was trying to save you.”
Jason stares at him, disbelief momentarily taking over the anger and concern. “That’s not saving me,” he spits out like the idea itself is venomous. “That’s,” he's searching for the right words as he challenges Dicks gaze with just as much urgency, “that’s just trading places.”
“It would’ve worked,” Dick says softly, almost like he’s talking to himself and that sound lets another cold shiver run down his spine. It sounds like he is still justifying this whole action to himself and it makes Jason feel sick to his stomach.
He can't help the bitter and disbelieving laugh that escapes him. “Yeah? You think that’s what I want? You think I’d live with that?” His voice rises again at the sheer thought of Dick possibly believing that what he did was right or logical. Like it wouldn't have destroyed him. Like Jason wasn't terrified to his pure core when Dick picked up that gun.
“You think I could just walk out of there and be fine knowing you—” He stops himself again, try calm his breath. This is all so bloody fucked up. “God, Dick, what the hell’s wrong with you?”
Dick’s eyes harden a little at that and he watches as a hint of anger flashes in his brother's tired and worried eyes. Good, let him be angry, Jason thinks because at least then he might get to the bottom of all of this. “What’s wrong with me?! Jason, you were dying.”
“So what?!” Jason snaps back before he can stop himself. He is so tired of this argument already, both of them had been dying and that doesn’t justify Dick almost killing himself in the slightest. “That’s not a reason to— to put a bullet in your own fucking head!”
Dick’s jaw tightens even more and he crosses his arms defensively. Jason can tell by the look on Dicks face that he starts to get under his skin and for now, Jason takes it. “You think I wanted to do that?”
Jason almost lets out a bitter laugh again in response, but it comes out more like a choked sound. “Could’ve fooled me,” he mutters, his voice trembling with barely-contained fury. After all he had been arguing to die back in cellar and now he even continues to justify that. Yes, maybe he fucking does think that. “You looked ready.”
That’s when Dick finally loses the last remaining pieces of his calm facade. He looks like what Jason just said physically hit him and he narrows his eyes in a way that reminds Jason of all the fights Dicks and Bruce's had back in the day. “Because I was ready!” he shouts, voice cracking and he throws his arms up with so much force that Jason almost worries that he'll lose his balance. “I was ready if it meant that you would live!”
Jason feels his throat dry in an instant and he feels like all the air is punched out of his lungs. His chest simply tightens at that and he stares at the older one in pure shock. Yes Jason would die for Dick as well, that's not up to debate but the way his older brother says it lets a cold shiver run down his spine. It makes him feel sick.
“Jesus Christ, Dick—”
“Jason, do you really think I could handle you dying again?!” Dick’s voice is full of rage but it's clear to Jason that it covers up a much deeper and vulnerable emotion—grief. “You think I could go through all of that again?!”
Jason freezes, not knowing how to respond to that at all. In all honesty he doesn't exactly know what happened in his family after his death—neither Bruce, Alfred, Dick or even Tim ever mentioned anything—but of course he is aware that it probably must have been bad.
So obviously he understands why Dick wouldn't want to go through all of that again but he must understand that dying himself isn't the right decision to make then either. That Jason wouldn't be able to live with himself if he ever were to lose Dick, especially because the older one decided to do die for him.
But before Jason can voice any of this, Dick continues to speak, finally in enough rage to rant on.
“I already did lose you once,” Dick goes on even as his voice breaks, but he doesn’t stop. It’s almost like something that Dick buried deep inside of him is starting to come up again. “I remember learning about your death and it— it fucked me up. It broke me and I couldn’t— I wouldn't be able to go through that again.”
Jason’s brain stops working for a moment. He wanted to get through to Dick, yes, but for some stupid reason he didn't expect the desperation he'd find. That beneath this martyr syndrome that drives Jason insane is such a deep wound that seems to go back to god knows many years ago and hasn't had the chance of healing since then.
He blinks at Dick startled — his big brother, his idol when he was a kid, that has always seemed so perfect. But now looking at him, he doesn't see this poster boy that everyone — including him — has declared Dick to be. He sees his brother whose eyes are teary, whose hands are trembling and whose breathing is way too fast.
And that sight lets something heavy settle in Jason’s chest.
“What— what the hell does that mean?” he manages to respond, though his voice isn’t steady anymore either. He takes a long breath, trying to carefully choose his next words. “What do you mean, it fucked you up?”
Dick laughs weakly, a bitter and tired laugh, not his usual laughter that is so genuine and light, that even Jason can't help but smile most of the time he hears it. “What do you think it means, Jason?”
Jason doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn't have a vague idea of what Dick means but because he needs him to say it on order for him to understand the entire extent of it.
So he just watches as Dick drags a shaky hand through his hair— clearly in an attempt to ground himself enough to continue this conversation. He exhales slowly and his voice drops to something small. “After you died,” he finally says quietly, “everything stopped making sense.”
Jason continues to stay quiet for now but he feels the lump in his throat tightening. In a way he is glad to finally hear what happened after his death — after all the only thing he was confronted with when coming back to life was the Joker still being alive — but he also knows that whatever he might hear now must have been deeply traumatising for his brother.
Dick keeps talking like the words are being dragged out of him. He only momentarily stops to look at Jason and the sheer amount of pain in eyes almost overwhelms the younger. “I mean Bruce he, you know how he is, he shut down. He buried himself in work and missions and I think if it wasn't for Tim, he might have drowned in the guilt. And I tried to,” Dick takes a short shuttering breath, fidgeting with his hands in a stressed manner, “I don’t know, keep things together I guess. For him, for Tim later on, for everyone. Because someone had to.” He lets out a hollow laugh. “But that didn’t matter. You were gone. And no matter what I did, it didn’t change that.”
Jason swallows hard and he closes his eyes for a second. If he is honest to himself, he could have expected that. It is as much obvious as it is distressing that the twenty-one year old Dick would've been the one to try and keep everything together. And Jason is well aware that Dick believes that to be his role in the family. Guilt makes its way through his body as Jason remembers even telling Dick exactly that in that bloody cellar. How much fucking pressure that must have been for a young adult?
Dick runs a shaking hand through his hair again. “Every night I kept replaying what happened. Searching for something that I could have done to prevent this. Maybe if I’d checked in more, or spent more time with you, or—” His voice breaks again and as Dicks eyes meet Jason's, he can see the tears building in them. “You were my little brother, Jason. I was supposed to keep you safe. And I— I didn’t.”
Jason immediately wants to interrupt him and tell him to stop. Tell him it wasn’t his fault and that, for heaven sake, Jason doesn't blame him for anything. Maybe when he just came back but that is something else entirely.
But the words die in his throat before he can say any of them. Because for once, Dick’s walls are down and Jason doesn't know when that will happen to this extent again. So no matter how much his chest urges him to interrupt, he stays quiet.
“And then I kept seeing you,” Dick continues, almost whispering now and Jason feels his heart skipping a beat. Seeing him? Worry continues to rise in his chest as he stares at Dick with wide eyes.
Dick only lowers his gaze to the ground beneath them, trying to avoid Jason's eyes as he speaks. “You were everywhere. Sometimes I'd only see your silhouette somewhere, other times it would be you entirely. Sometimes I’d hear your voice. For months, I thought I was losing my mind.” His voice breaks and for a second he shuts his eyes so tightly, it gives Jason the impression that he is trying to force memories of that time away. That only lets the lump in Jason's throat tighten increasingly.
“Bruce didn’t talk about you, at least not with me, and I— I didn’t know what to do with all of it. So I just… pretended I guess. I threw myself into missions. I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat right. I didn’t—” He laughs again, a so utterly broken sound that it makes Jason's blood run cold. “In the end I only started seeing you even more because of it. Eventually I just… accepted it and started responding to you.”
Jason feels like the ground beneath him shifts and slowly an image forms in his head. A younger Dick sitting alone in his apartment in Blüdheaven, talking to a hallucination of an already dead Jason. And the longer he thinks about that, the more Jason has to fight the urge to just bend over and empty his stomach. That is so sick. So fucking sick.
“Dick…” he starts, his voice low and pleading as he tries to get through to his brother.
But Dick doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s looking at something far away, lost in his thoughts. “You were such a sweet child Jay. The sweetest little kid ever,” he says softly before his voice suddenly gets an almost disgusted undertone. “And I am so sorry I wasn't the older brother to you that I should have been. I was angry at Bruce and I let that affect our relationship, when it was never your fault.”
Dick drags a hand down his face in a manner that ages him way beyond his true age. In a way he almost looks like Bruce right now. Like he is also slowly drowning in guilt for something that he claims is his own fault. “But when I realized that, you were already gone. Dead and I— speaking to this hallucination of you was the closest thing I got to speaking to you.”
Jason’s chest tightens painfully and he closes his eyes for a moment. He’s seen people break before. Seen grief twist people into unrecognizable shapes. But seeing it in Dick — his Dick, his brother — feels like something in his own chest is being torn apart. And he feels sick to his stomach as he remembers how cold he was to Dick when he first came back. He hated everyone for their ‘lack of caring’ but now being confronted with just how much his brother suffered knocks all the air out of his lungs.
Because that's what Dick did from the sound of it. Suffer.
When he opens his eyes again he tries to catch Dicks eyes but the attempt goes without any success. It physically hurts him to see Dick like this. So guilt ridden and almost hopeless when all that Dick stands for is hope. Hope, redemption and never giving up.
“You really— you really hallucinated me.” It's not a question but still Dick nods slowly and softly in response. Jason carefully moves a bit closer to Dick so that their shoulders are touching— he knows that Dick is a physical touch person and he wants nothing more than to comfort him right now.
For a second Dick freezes before he ever so slightly leans against Jason. Not merely enough for it to be noticed by a bystander but Jason feels the light pressure of Dicks body against his and it even eases his own shoulders a bit. He takes another careful breath before asking his next question. “What did this… version of me say?”
Dick closes his eyes again with a pained expression and Jason immediately also leans a bit more against Dick, reminding him that he is alive and with him. Maybe it's a question he shouldn't dare to ask but he needs to know. Needs to understand just how much his brother suffered.
Finally Dick opens his eyes again and stares at his feet below, seemingly choosing his words carefully. “It varied. Sometimes you’d just mutter quietly to yourself or say something like ‘Dick look!’,” a small smile forms on his face at that but it vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “But most of the time you were yelling. Telling me that it's my fault that you died and blaming me.”
The silence that follows is heavy. Jason can only stare at him, being speechless momentarily. There’s something inside him — some combination of guilt, anger, grief — all tangled together and pressing against his ribs until he can barely breathe.
For the first time ever he is confronted with how much his brother struggled with his loss and it breaks something in Jason. Seeing Dick like this, hearing about his struggle, seeing him with the gun to his temple in front of his inner eye,... it breaks something. Every last bit of remaining anger that he may have still had for the older one vanishes right this second. Because Dick suffered and still believes that it's justified that he did.
Softly Jason reaches out and places his hand on Dicks shoulder. In response Dick finally meets his eyes again and beneath the surprise of Jason initiating physically touch he can see the exhaustion in his features. Like he is just so tired from everything.
That only lets Jason tighten his grip in a reassuring manner. “Dickie I need you to understand that none of this was your fault. My death was never your fault and shouldn't be your burden to carry,” he tries to show the urgency behind his words to Dick and doesn't stop holding the eye contact for even a second. He needs him to understand. “I don't blame you.”
He can tell the exact second that the dam inside Dick breaks. He lets out a long, dragged and shivering breath, still trying to hold back the tears as he looks at Jason in disbelief. “Why?”
The question leaves Jason startled for a moment, so he just stares at Dick, waiting for him to elaborate further. And after trying to collect himself, Dick does so. “You have every right to blame me Jay. I mean the sole reason you were taken by the Joker was because you were Robin. Because you carried my mantel. If I had just stayed Robin non of this would have happened.”
Jason can't help the anger rising in his chest at that, his face falling in disbelief. No only does Dick really and actually blame himself for Jason's death but he also just suggested that he'd rather die than Jason. Going as far as to say that he should have stayed Robin. Yeah that lets Jason's blood boil.
“Stop,” Jason snaps and he is painfully aware of the fact that his voice is shivering and breaking as he speaks. Still he tries to let it sound firm enough for Dick to see that what he said is bullshit. “Just fucking stop will ya?! Stop saying that you should die like you're bloody suicidal or something!”
The words come out sharper than intended but Jason doesn't regret it one bit. Ever since Dick mentioned not wanting to survive after Jason's death in the cellar it had been suffocating Jason. Had knocked all the air out of his lungs and has tightend his chest. The mere idea of Dick not wanting to live is just that terrifying.
Dick looks like someone just slapped him right across the face and he immediately starts avoiding Jason's gaze, which lets Jason's heart drop. He hit a sensitive topic, that's for sure, but he is scared of what he'll find now.
“Dick you don't…” Jason swallows hard, forcing his voice to stay steady. He feels the tears building in his eyes and he is breathing way to fast. His eyes wide even more as Dick continues to stay silent. “Were you… actually suicidal?”
The question hangs heavily between the two of them and every second in which Dick doesn’t deny his accusation, Jason feels himself become more desperate. Scared that while he was back alive and working as Red Hood, his brother was actively falling apart.
After what felt like ages Dick finally shakes his head slightly and releases a soft breath. “No. No I wasn't.” Jason lets out a relieved breath he didn't know he was holding and momentarily closes his eyes. He doesn't know if he could have handled that. If he could have handled Dick maybe even actively planning his death.
But before he can dwell in that relief, Dick continues speaking in a low voice. “But I— I didn’t care if I died or not anymore. I became careless with my life and I just… I was ready to die if needed.”
Jason feels his chest tighten so much it hurts. His throat burns and his eyes fill with tears that he desperately tries to hold back. All this time… all these fucking years, he had to carry this alone? It makes Jason sick and he immediately returns his hand to Dicks shoulder after he momentarily dropped earlier.
“Oh Dick…” he mutters, uncertain what to say after a confession like this but feeling the immense need to say something. To let his brother know how unhealthy that is. “You shouldn’t’ve gone through that alone that's… christ Dick that's so messed up.”
Dick simply shrugs slightly but leans more against Jason, seeking the contact to his little brother and Jason is more than willing to provide that physical contact to him. He'll hold Dick for as long as he needs him to, if that means that he can comfort him in any way.
“Yeah maybe but I had no other choice Jay,” Dick finally mutters after a while and Jason can hear the exhaustion behind the words, which lets him tighten his grip ever so slightly. “Everyone was grieving you and I felt like I wasn't allowed to seek out for help. After all I blamed myself for it.”
Jason stares at Dick for a long time, watching the way his brother’s hands tremble slightly even as he tries to steady them. He feels the increasing need to shake some sense into Dick for believing that he isn't allowed to ask for help but starting to argue again wouldn't help either of them, so he drops it for now.
Instead he only tightens his grip and pulls him closer. “You don’t have to survive it alone. Not anymore. I'm here now and I won't let you carry all of this alone anymore.” He looks at Dick, praying that the sincerity behind his words would deliver. And by the way the tears in Dick's eyes finally start to run down his cheeks, he sees that he succeeded.
Before he can think about it too long, he acts on pure instinct. Carefully he pulls Dick closer and also wraps his other arm around him, now holding him in a protective and tight embrace. His head rests on Dick’s shoulder and he softly runs a hand up and down his back.
For a second Dick freezes in surprise but then he just collapses into it. He also wraps his arms around his little brother and his hands clutch at Jason's jacket. His face presses against the others shoulder, and Jason can feel him starting to really cry— maybe even sob.
Immediately he wraps his arms around him even tighter and just holds on. Holds on to him like he is scared that if he lets go, his brother could dissappear.
“I got you,” he murmurs gently but he can't stop his voice from breaking. “I’ve got you now, I promise.” He can still feel Dicks body trembling from the crying and just for now, Jason stops trying to hold back his own tears as well. They run down his cheeks quietly as he holds onto Dick just as tightly as the older one holds on to him.
And as he takes shivering breaths, holding Dick in his arms, he remembers the last words his brother said before almost pulling the trigger.
Please catch me, little wing
Dick had sounded so terrified of the idea of falling that it had made a cold shiver run down Jason's spine whe he first heard it. Instinctively he snuggles even closet to Dick and continues running his hand up and down his back. “I got you Dickie. I'll always catch you, I promise.”
Dick immediately leans more into his touch and he lets out a sound that almost sounds like a relieved sigh. “I love you Jay, so so much,” Dicks whispers to gently it almost makes Jason cry even more before he moves one of his hands into Jason's hair to running it through it in a soothing manner.
And even though tears are still running down his face, Jason smiles ever so slightly at that. He'll make sure that he'll keep this promise, he'll always catch his brother. “I love you too Dickie.”