Chapter Text
It has only been a few days since you made your agreement with Alexander, yet everything seems wrong. Alexander has pushed your wedding day to be in ten days. Whenever you pass his office, you hear whispers of plans, but never anything you can fully piece together. Besides, you are hardly allowed out of your room anymore. It’s always with the excuse of your injured side, but nobody has treated it since you arrived, you’ve had to do it by yourself.
The corridors feel even more suffocating than they did when you first arrived. Despite the glamour of it all, you feel trapped. You probably are with how the guards now surround your door. You march past them. What are they going to do? Attack a princess? Your heels click on the cobblestone floor as you make your way to Alexander’s office. Worry clouds all rational thoughts as you think about Jason. If it wasn’t clear before, it is now. You love him. More than something as limited as words can describe.
Another thing has become clear in the past few days; you cannot trust Alexander. Everything from the murmurs in his office to the guards stationed outside of your room prove something shady is in the works. So naturally, you question if he stayed true to his part of your arrangement. So here you are, standing before his door, preparing yourself to face him.
You don't knock, simply walking into his room and up to his desk. "It comes to this. I love Jason and I always have. Now I know I always will." With determination, you step forward. "If you tell me I am to marry you in ten days, please believe I will be dead by morning."
Alexander pauses in something akin to shock. "I could never cause you grief." He begins, gears turning in his mind. "Consider the wedding off." He turns to one of his men, Tony Zucco as you had overheard. "You returned this Jason to his ship?"
"Yes, your highness." He responds a bit too gleefully for your taste.
"Very well." Alexander stands from his desk, walking towards you. "And are you certain Jason even wants you anymore? I mean, it was you who left him at the fire swamp. And are you really sure you want to be with a vigilante? They are hardly ever men of their word."
"I wouldn't have come to you if I wasn't certain. Jason will come for me." You stand your ground despite his obvious attempts to break your confidence.
"Then I suppose we will have to find him." He pauses for a moment, putting on a show of deep thinking. "How about this, you will write four copies of a letter and I will send out four of my best ships in each direction to find him. We'll deliver the message, and if Jason wants you, bless you both." He pauses, spinning the words on his tongue before breathing, "But if he doesn't, please consider me as an alternative to your demise. Are we agreed?" He smiles.
You nod, but deep down, you know something is wrong. Alexander had never been this agreeable in the past. His grin was not that of a good compromise or even one of sadness. It was a dark kind of glee that told you he knew things you didn't. That he had the upper hand.
"Thank you for your consideration." You smile with false contentment and escort yourself out the door, closing it behind you. After checking the hall for anyone watching, you press your ear to the wooden door.
"We aren't actually sending the boats are we?" The voice of Tony questions.
"Of course we aren't. Why would we do that when he's in the Pit of Despair?" Alexander asks mockingly. Your breathing quickens at the information, but you stay, listening for any more information you can get your hands on.
"You know, your princess is really quite the winning creature." Tony purrs as your hands clench into fists. "A trifle, simple perhaps, but her appeal is undeniable." Fire burns in your chest.
"I know, the people are quite taken with her." You could see Alexander's cocky grin with your eyes closed. " It's odd. When I hired The Riddler to have her murdered, I thought that was clever. But it is going to be so much more moving when I strangle her on our wedding day." Your breath catches, your hands turn cold, and you feel as though you are dead already. He was behind your kidnapping? He's plotting to kill you? You knew Alexander was unkind, but you severely underestimated his wickedness. "Once Metropolis is blamed, the nation will be truly outraged. They'll demand we go to war. That means more power for the Court."
"Yes, more riches too. Not that the Court of Owls needs it." Tony laughs and you hear Alexander cackle soon after. "Would you like to join me in the pit? I'm starting Jason on the machine tonight."
Alexander huffs, "Tony, you know how much I love watching you work, but I am far too busy. I have Gotham's 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife to murder, and Metropolis to blame for it. I'm swamped.”
You hear Tony begin to talk again, but soon you realize you must leave your place by the door as his steps approach it. As quietly as possible, you dash to your room, thinking of a plan of action as quickly as you can.
Maneuvering past the guards, you enter your room. Without noise, you pace, turning over ideas in your mind and quickly throwing them out. You could stay and wait out your death, but there is no guarantee that Alexander will prolong your murder if he discovers you had been listening in to his previous conversation. You could keep a dagger with you on your wedding night for self-defense, but if you actually used it, you would be killed for treason. And then there was the issue of Jason, who had never made it to his ship as your deal had requested. The Pit of Despair, you remember them saying. You had never heard of such a place but you knew you had to free him from whatever was happening down there.
You decide that you will run from the palace tonight and search for this pit. Without further hesitation, you pack your necessities in a bag and sling it over your shoulders. Then you tear the drapes from around your bed and tie them into a long, yet sturdy rope. You only hope that the fabric will be long enough to reach the ground.
The ground beneath you looks farther away then it really is, you tell yourself. A trick of the darkness just makes it look like a long way down, when really, a fall from this height is perfectly survivable. You're just scared. The fabric feels rough against your fingers as you climb down. Your situation reminds you of a tale from your childhood where a prince climbs up a tall tower on a maiden's hair. Only this time, the maiden was climbing down the tower on an unstable rope, trying to escape her prince.
Everything seems so twisted. Jason is trapped somewhere. Scared and likely hurting. You don't even know where to begin to look for this pit. All you know is, you have to leave the castle grounds first. At the bottom of the climb, you land on your feet. There, not so bad. Looking up, maybe the climb was taller than you convinced yourself. At least the climb is done now, although your troubles seem far from over.
The darkness fades away as Jason opens his eyes, however the pain and confusion stay. When you had left, Jason knew that your prince would not keep his word. He was soon proven right as the prince's right-hand man had struck him with the blunt end of his sword.
He can now only assume that he was taken to this strange place by him. Jason tries to sit, only to discover that he has been bound to what feels like a table with thick leather straps. His legs, arms, and even his neck are restricted.
Glancing around gives Jason no help either, as the whole area is bathed in darkness, no windows, no visible way out, just darkness. The lonely silence is broken by the sound of small yet determined footsteps. A candle is lit on a table nearby, giving Jason the ability to see all the strange looking devices resting on it. The light also reveals the face of his captor. He was younger than Jason expected, maybe early teens, with Black hair and green eyes. The boy looked remarkably like Jason's mentor, Bruce. same scowl and everything.
"Who are you?" Jason questions, trying not to seem pathetic, despite his current situation.
"Damian Al Ghul." He says it like a brag. "Welcome to the Pit of Despair." With practiced ease, he grabs a few items and gets to work on handling some of Jason's wounds.
"If this is the Pit of Despair, then why are you cleaning me up, kid?"
Damian rolls his eyes and answers with obvious annoyance. "Standard protocol, you oaf. I deal with your injuries so Zucco can put you on the machine."
Jason doesn't know whether to ask about the machine or Zucco. Considering this place was called "The Pit of Despair" he had a decent idea what the machine was for. The name Zucco, however, reminded him of his conversation with the owl-masked man, Richard Grayson.
"As in Tony Zucco?" Jason asks.
"Yes, actually. Do you have a history?" Damian raises an eyebrow.
"No, but I know somebody who does." Jason smirks and watches as the boy continues to work, unbothered, The sternness in his demeanor keeps reminding Jason of someone. "You wouldn't be related to a Bruce Wayne, would you?"
"My father." Damian responds shortly.
Maybe Jason could use his connection to his father to get out of this. "What a coincidence." Jason smiles with false bravado. "I used to work with the guy. In fact, we'd go around the kingdom and-"
"I'm not stupid, Todd. I know about your connection to my father. I simply do not care." Damian spits. There goes that idea.
Jason knew talking more would only get him in more trouble, but he couldn't help his smart mouth. Besides, he's gonna get tortured anyway. "So you know me, huh?"
Damian's hands clench around the wet towel he had been using to clean Jason's wounds. "Of course I do. It would be unwise to interact with you if I didn't."
Jason smirks. The little guy is finally giving him a reaction. "So why aren't you with your father, hm? Did he not want you around?"
"Shut up, Todd!" Damian stands. "You know nothing of this situation." He looks more hurt than angry. A part of him feels like he's staring at an alternate version of himself. A hurt, angry version of him without your support. Without any support.
"Alright, kid, alright. I'm sorry." He backtracks. "But why are you down here with me, hm? Shouldn't you be in school?"
"Mother says it is part of my training. And important to a plan, but even I do not know it's full scale. Only pieces." Damian complains through gritted teeth as he returns to cleaning wounds.
"Care to share?" Jason teases. Damian gives him yet another annoyed look. Yeah, Jason isn't getting any more information out of him.
Damian continues to work in silence as Jason tries to get a better look at his surroundings in the candlelight. Still no windows. And the only way out seems to be up a tall staircase. So getting out of the pit isn't the problem, it's the restraints.
As Jason is trying to devise a way out of the restraints, a man enters and descends the staircase. The man from before who had knocked Jason unconscious and who Jason had now come to recognize as Tony Zucco. Tony stands beside the table, appraising Damian's work.
"Satisfactory." Tony nods at Damian. "You may retire for the day." Damian does as told and leaves the room without a word.
"Tony Zucco, is it?" Jason begins, despite already knowing the answer. "Someone has been looking for you." He smiles. That earns him a scowl from Tony.
"What can I say? I'm a popular man." He wheels Jason to an odd contraption. "Any smart remarks before I set up the machine?" Tony taunts, connecting what appear to be suction cups to him.
"Yeah, actually. Are you planning to torture me with suction cups?" Jason bears a grin.
"Not exactly. You see, suction cups suck water. I'm sucking life." He saunters to a lever with different numbers going up to fifty. "I'll start with one year of your life, as the machine is still being tested. One day, I might go as high as five, but I really don't have a clue what that would do to you."
The lever is pulled to the first level and immediately, pain shoots through every inch of Jason's body. The burning sensation brings him back to the burning warehouse where he was killed. His pain is sharp, hot, and everywhere. At some points, it feels like the bile inside of him is trying to burn its way through him. Jason's heart beats without any ounce of rhythm and for a few moments, he wishes it would stop completely. His body spasms, nerves firing throughout his body without control. Even as the suction of life slows, his limbs still twitch. It takes everything in him not to scream or weep.
"Now, be honest." Tony begins. "How do you feel?" He sits proudly in his chair after seeing the effects of his machine.
A knot builds in Jason's throat. Everything hurts, he thought that much was obvious. If the man truly wanted to know, Jason would be more than happy to hook him up to the monstrous machine and let him feel it for himself. Every inch still burned. It burns like the fire of the explosion all those years ago. And the worst part is that Jason knows it will continue, because just like before, nobody is coming to save him. The sob he had tried so hard to hold back finally slips out and Zucco begins writing the reaction down with sinister glee.
Your feet are numb from running throughout the village. You've been searching for hours and still your efforts are futile. You have cornered the local gossip to see if he knew anything, yet he was even more confused than you. The barkeep in a popular bar hadn't heard anything either. You have resorted to asking every single person you see. Sure, you look like a fool, but you have more pressing matters than that.
Eventually, a thought pops into your mind. Jason had told you earlier that Duke Bruce Wayne was the Dark Knight. Maybe he would have tabs on the shady dealings in Gotham and know where the Pit of Despair is.
After begging to hitch a ride on a carriage, you rush to the gates of Wayne Manor. You let yourself in and march to the door, knocking with desperate haste. An older man opens the door with a confused expression.
Before he can ask any questions, you blurt, "I need to see Mr. Wayne. Please, it's urgent."
"Unfortunately, Master Bruce is occupied-"
"Please." You beg. "It's about Jason." Your voice sounds flimsy, desperate. You probably look insane with your messy hair, torn gown, and shaky hands.
To your surprise, the butler’s gaze softens at your mention of Jason and he opens the door. “I’ll let the Master know you are here. What’s your name, dear?”
You answer him as you gaze around the estate. “And yours?”
“Alfred Pennyworth.” He pauses, eyeing you with curiosity. “You know, I remember Jason mentioning you a couple of times. It seems you’re still important to one another.” He hums and exits down the hall for Bruce.
You rock impatiently. Typically, you’re quite polite, but your mind keeps running back to Jason. The words “Pit of Despair” echo in your mind on repeat. And the worst part is that it’s your fault. You were such an idiot to entrust Jason’s fate to someone like Alexander. Jason has saved you time and time again and in your foolish attempt to do the same, you may have killed him.
Alfred steps back into the hall, waving you into the room and interrupting your worsening thoughts. You don’t pay attention to the decorations anymore, you can’t. You can’t pay attention to anything but finding Jason. The room you step into is warm and fragrant. No doubt the room of a rich man. Bruce Wayne sits at a chair behind a desk. He looks softer than you imagined. Not angered or harsh, just drained. Probably from spending all his time fighting losing battles.
Another man sits on a chair nearby, although you can’t put together who that man is. However, he certainly seems to know you. You ignore it.
“I’m here to see if you know anything about the location of Jason Todd. I have heard whispers that he is in the Pit of Despair, but I cannot find it. Please, if you know anything, please tell me.” You plead, fighting with the sob in your throat.
“The Pit of Despair…” Bruce trails off. “Who have you heard talking about it?”
“Prince Alexander and Tony Zucco.” You respond.
The other man shoots up from his chair. “Tony Zucco?”
Bruce holds up a hand to silence the black-haired man and continues. “I have heard that locals have seen him wander into the forest on the east end of the village. But unfortunately, I don’t know much more than that.”
“I will go with you to the forest.” The mystery man eagerly volunteers, grabbing a bag and a familiar owl mask. Then it clicks.
“Wait, you’re one of the men who kidnapped me!” You back away.
He pinches the bridge of his nose regretfully. “Nothing personal. The Court was making me do it. Actually, it was planned by your husband-to-be. I can’t disobey orders, but um.. I’m not working for them anymore.” He sighs when he sees you’re still on edge. “Look, I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to find Zucco.”
“Why?” You question, daggers in your stare.
“You’re really not gonna drop this, huh?” He pauses. “Zucco killed my parents. I don’t want this-” he gestures to himself and the owl mask, “-to happen to anyone else. So do you want my help or not?”
“Fine.” You huff. “Thank you for the help, Bruce and…”
“Richard.” The man fills in.
“Take my carriage.” Bruce offers, looking a little guilty. “I don’t think Jason would want to see me right now, but please, don’t let him think I ever abandoned him. And the two of you are welcome at the manor whenever you need.”
“I might just take you up on that.” You smile weakly. “Considering that the prince of the kingdom has a plot to kill me.”
Before he can ask any more questions, you leave the room, taking Richard with you. If he really wants to, you can discuss it later. For now, you have to find Jason and flee to somewhere safe. You practically shove Jason into the carriage and take the reins yourself. You’ve had enough practice on the farm doing such things. Besides, you’re sure you can go faster than any coachman Bruce has.
The ride is fast, messy, and bumpy and you quickly steer the horses towards the forest. You can hear groans from Richard every time you hit a bump. You suppose it’s payback for your capture..
Quickly, you dismount and bang on the carriage door to let Richard know you’ve reached your destination. The forest is thick and unwelcoming. Birds you once swore chirped freely, are now silent. As if they know of the Court’s plot to torture Jason, kill you, and start a war.
“You know,” Richard begins, “We could ride in a little further. That way we don’t have to go on foot for as long.”
“No. We need to pay attention to every detail. I’d be too busy steering to get a good look at everything else, and I don’t trust you to keep an eye on things, no offense.” You mutter, scanning the forest for anything that looks amiss. Honestly, you have no clue what you’re looking for and you’re beginning to feel a little hopeless despite the fact that you have only just arrived.
A ruffling of leaves to your left alerts you of movement deeper in the forest. Without thought, you rush towards it, Richard on your tail. A child, no older than fourteen, marches through a clearing with a bag of odd looking equipment. As you stop to figure out how to handle the situation, Richard keeps running towards him. So much for being stealthy. However, to your surprise, Richard doesn’t attack.
“Damian?” Richard asks and the boy freezes.
“Go away, Grayson.” Damian grunts, seemingly refusing to look him in the eyes. “I cannot be seen with you.”
“I assume The Court told you that I left, then.” Richard sighs.
“Yes. And they want you dead. You betrayed both the League of Assassins and The Court of Owls. Be grateful that I have not killed you on the spot.” His hands clench as the conversation between them quiets. These two definitely have worked together before, even though they work for different groups. The history is obvious. What is also obvious is that this boy knows things about the plan shared by the two mysterious groups.
“We are very grateful, Damian.” You speak up. “We’d be even more grateful if you can tell us anything you might know about where Jason Todd is.”
“You are foolish to think your attempts at persuasion will work on me.” The young boy huffs stubbornly.
“Please, Damian.” You plead. ‘The life of my love is in your hands. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll take his place if it comes down to it.”
Damian’s glare softens. “I suppose we can make an arrangement.” He begins. “Bring me to my father and I will bring you to Jason.”
“Who is your father?” You question.
Damian opens his mouth, but Richard responds for him. “Bruce Wayne.”
After the revealing of information like that, you’d typically erupt into a chorus of questions. However, you find the typical is steadily slipping from your hands, so you just accept the odd revelation.
“Alright.” You respond. “Show me to Jason and Richard will escort you to Bruce soon after.”
Richard begins to protest, but you silence him with a glare. If you don’t find Jason within the hour, you might lose it.
Jason’s limbs still ache from the machine. Only one year has been sucked away yet he feels like death. The period of rest he’s allowed from the machine is hardly a reprieve. Effects of the wretched thing last far longer than Tony seems to think.
The door to the pit flies open and Jason finds himself stupidly hopeful for rescue. Maybe Bruce, or you, or some deus ex machina. But the silhouette of the visitor is not the broad shoulders or Bruce or your familiar figure. Prince Alexander stands at the entrance, his face full of rage. Jason finds himself fairly certain of what is to come.
“She escaped.” Alexander screams as he storms down the staircase to Jason. His face twists into something vile and almost inhuman. “You find you, no doubt. Do you know how much trouble you have caused?” The prince's knuckles turn white as he clutches the wooden table. “You’ve become a thorn in the side of both the Court of Owls and the League of Assassins and it is on me to rectify your foolish actions.” A shaky finger points in Jason's face. “I should have you killed.” Alexander pauses, his fury giving way to an unsettling calm as he eyes the lever of the machine. “In fact, I think I will.”
The lever is pulled up to the highest level and the consequence is almost immediate. Pain like no other consumes Jason. Worse than his death. Despite the pain, Jason feels satisfied. You escaped. You are free. That makes the pain feel worth it. Even as he screams out in agony and tears stream from his eyes, he is relieved that you got away. You kept your promise to him; you’ll be happy.
Finally, his body gives in to the pain and fails. Darkness invades his vision and his hearing retreats. The familiar embrace of death greets him and Jason gratefully accepts.
The scream you heard moments ago is distinctly Jason. Despite the paralyzing fear that it sends through you, you keep pushing forward, urging Damian to hurry. Your hands tremble and your breathing has become wild with worry. Just as you begin to will yourself to be calm, the screaming stops. You should be relieved, but you aren’t. This kind of silence is different. It wraps around your throat and squeezes. An intrusive thought claws at your mind, but you push it away. Jason is alive. He has to be.
Damian hurriedly pushes at a knot in a tree and a hidden door swings open. Without thinking, you rush forward into the dimly lit pit. The scene before you makes your determined pace falter.
Prince Alexander and Tony stare up at you with both shock and anger. Alexander actually seems to be shaking. Surrounding them are all sorts of sick contraptions that make your stomach churn. But in the centre of this unsettling scenario is Jason, lifeless on a wooden gurney.
You can’t breathe. You can’t move. Not even as Alexander and Tony charge towards you. Damian and Richard pull you out of the way, but the rest is a blur. The only thing you can see is Jason’s corpse. The only thing you can hear are your own disordered sobs. Once you can no longer feel Damian or Richard's grip on you, you stumble back into the pit to see Jason. It’s empty now. Alexander and Tony must have run off. Or maybe they’re lurking somewhere waiting to pounce. You can’t bring yourself to care. Not when the body of the only man you have ever loved lays lifeless before you.
Foolishly, you reach a hand to his wrist, hoping for even the faintest pulse. Nothing. Jason’s skin is cold and pale. His eyes are glazed. He’s hooked up to an intimidating machine and despite your clumsy hands and clouded mind, you release him from it. Your hands graze his skin, giving you cold reminders that he’s not here. Tears choke you as you desperately wrap your arms around him. His lead limply tilts back.
He can’t be gone. You just got him back. You were supposed to save him, not be the cause of his death. Your sobs only grow with the stinging guilt in your gut. You only wanted to help. It hurts to pull away from his lifeless body.
Damian and Richard now stand behind you, silent and shocked. You stand on shaky legs, your eyes fixed on Jason.
“I think I know someone who can help.” Damian speaks up, his voice warmer than you had heard it before.
“You know someone who can cure death?” You’re not sure if it’s a laugh or sob that comes from your lips, but either way, it’s bitter.
“Yes.” Damian answers and begins to walk away. Richard lifts Jason’s body, carefully supporting him like how you imagine an older brother would. Cursing the exhaustion running through you, you follow them, direly hoping that Damian is telling the truth.
After a while of wandering, you reach a cobblestone house. Damian knocks with the same assertiveness he always carries. When he doesn’t get an immediate response he shouts, “Drake, let me in!”
Almost immediately, the door opens to reveal an exhausted looking boy with disheveled hair. “What–” He cuts himself off when he spots Jason's dead body. Wordlessly, he opens the door wider and ushers the group in. “What in the world is going on here? Are you bringing me dead bodies now, Damian?”
“Yes, Tim.” Damian responds. “And he’s not completely dead.”
“He’s not?” You ask.
Richard lays Jason’s body on the table and Tim presses his ear to his heart. “Mostly dead. But my point still stands, Damian. I don’t think I’ll be able to do anything.”
Richard steps forward. “I need him to avenge my parents.”
“You’re a rotten liar.” Tim huffs, going through cluttered cabinets.
Now it’s your turn to try to persuade him. “Please, I love him. I need him back.”
The man looks between you and Jason incredulously. “The first story was better.” He pauses. “But fine, I’ll bring him back.”
“Now,” Damian begins. “Richard is supposed to bring me to my father.”
“Right,” You look at Richard. “Would you mind?”
“Not at all. And best of luck with Jason.” He pats your shoulder before escorting Damian out.
Tim continues to poke and prod at Jason with laser focus. Every so often he grabs something from a cabinet to aid him in his process.
“Thank you, Tim. For doing all of this.” Tim jumps as you speak up, the interruption from his work startling him.
“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He looks up at you. “You know, you almost look as bad as him.” He gestures to the mostly dead Jason. “I’ve got a chair and a few blankets in the next room. Make yourself at home while I work on him.”
“Are you sure? I mean, you’re already doing so much.”
“I’m sure. Trust me, I know what sleep deprivation does to a person.”
You thank him once more and head to the next room. The wooden chair looks neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Good enough, you decide. Worn blankets wrap around you as you force yourself to rest. The lack of sleep from the past few nights combined with today's events make sleep come with ease. Your mind slips from your conscious control and you find solace in the quiet that your mind becomes.
A mix of moonlight and candlelight illuminate your room, filling it with a soft glow. You’d stayed up later than you had planned to, getting absorbed in yet another book Jason had recommended. The man had an affinity for romance novels. Still, it was long past midnight and you had work to do tomorrow. Quietly padding to your desk, you set down your book. The warmth of the flame brushes your lips as you prepare to extinguish your candle, but instead of blowing it out, you can only gasp.
Jason groans as he climbs through your window, loudly tossing himself on the floor.
“What are you doing?” You scold, rushing over. A hand covers his side, poorly concealing blood oozing out of him. “Jason Peter Todd, I hope that’s not a stab wound you’re trying to hide from me.” You tear away the hand, revealing that your suspicion had been correct. “I suppose you’re not going to tell me how you got it?”
“And ruin our little tradition?” A pained smile graces his features.
You sigh and take to tending his injury with the minimal medical knowledge you have. Jason hisses when you apply pressure to the stab with a rag, but keeps the complaints to himself.
“You can’t keep this up, Jason. Whatever you’re doing at night is going to kill you someday.” You mutter with more worry than you care to admit.
“Not today though.” He smiles. “Besides, I like watching you play nurse.”
“That’s not funny, Jason. You are seriously hurt. You need to be careful.”
“Believe it or not, this is me being careful.” Jason grunts as you subconsciously add more pressure. His hand ghosts over your wrist. “I think that’s enough pressure, yeah? Or are you just trying to punish me?”
You relax, easing the pressure on the wound to find that the bleeding has subsided. “Maybe.” You laugh nervously, more out of hysterics than actual humor.
Grabbing a bowl of water, a washcloth, and some bandages, you rush back to Jason. The two of you have done this so many times that it might as well be muscle memory now. You ignore his stifled hisses as you clean the wound.
“I am worried about you, you know?” You mumble. “I mean, you run off when the sun sets, come back injured in the middle of the night, and then you look like you’re going to pass out all day. You have to know this is bad for you. The lack of sleep, the injuries, and whatever else I don’t know about.”
Jason stays silent for a few moments, absorbing your concerned ramble. “Please trust me when I say that I’m doing this for the greater good.” His voice doesn’t come out steady and confident like it usually does. This time it’s soft and a little shaky. He looks up at you with pleading eyes and you find yourself really wanting to believe him. But you can’t.
“I’m sorry Jason, but I just can’t see how any of this is helping anyone. Is it money? Are you doing this sort of thing for money? Because I can talk my parents into increasing your wages. Or I could find you another job in the village–”
“No. I’m not doing it for money either.” Jason huffs with defeat. “And before you ask again, I can’t tell you. You have no idea how much I want to.”
Your hands move over his torso, ghosting over the skin as you apply the bandages. When you speak, your voice comes out a little softer. “That doesn’t make me any less worried about you. I can handle you getting into bar fights or meeting up with harlots, but what I can’t handle is all this secrecy. Believe it or not, I care about you.”
Jason’s hand moves on top of yours, pausing your attempts at bandaging him. Your beat quickens and you hope the darkness hides the blush on your cheeks. “You shouldn’t have to deal with all of this. With me.” Jason can’t seem to bring himself to look at you.
“It’s not you that's the problem.” You make quick work of his bandage, scooting back to appraise your work. “It’s the gaping wound in your side.” A dry chuckle escapes your throat at your attempt at comedy. Jason just stays silent, the air too heavy for humor to actually reach either of you. His hand still lightly rests on yours, a silent plea to stay.
“What are you doing up this late?” Jason questions, trying to save himself from your lengthening lecture. And maybe stay with you a little longer, but you don’t want to think about the implications of that.
“Reading that book you recommended. The one by Jane Austin.” You start to get up, but Jason’s gentle grip on your hand convinces you to stay. Moving would be like disrupting a sleeping kitten on your lap. Instead, you move beside him, to lean against the wall.
“What are your thoughts?” Jason asks through a yawn.
“Well, Elizabeth is a relatable protagonist. And it took me a while to like Mr. Darcy, but now I don’t mind him.” You begin, trying not to get distracted as Jason traces circles on your hand. “Elizabeth is obviously blinded by her misconceptions of people and Mr. Darcy is a little on the arrogant side, but I like them. They feel human.” Jason listens as you continue, although his head begins to roll to the side and his eyes fight gravity. “Jason?”
He jolts awake. “What? Sorry.”
“Why don’t you stay in my room for the night?” Before he can respond, you’re already up and offering him a hand. With a sigh, he takes it and allows you to guide him to your bed. You’ve shared a bed a few times before, but only when you were younger. Now it felt more intimate. But no matter, Jason was tired and you don’t trust him to make it to his room without collapsing.
“You’re sure?” He looks hesitant.
“Of course I am. Besides, you’ll keep me warm. You won’t believe how cold it gets here.” With that, Jason kicks off his shoes and lays in your bed. You practically have to yell at him to convince him to get under the blankets. Jason mumbles a thank you. He looks majestic in the moonlight with his dark locs and dark eyes. You get cozy beside him. His body heat radiates across the sheets. At this distance, you can smell something warm and familiar, distinctly Jason. Continuing to share your thoughts on the novel, you find your mind becoming blissfully blank with sleep. In your half asleep maneuvers, you subconsciously cuddle up to Jason. A whisper brings you back to the present, but only for a moment.
Pressed against you, with warm breath on your neck, Jason whispers, “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“Jason?” You ask in a confused, sleepy daze. Yet, even in your confusion, you hope he means the random confession.
“Just a quote from the book I remember.” Jason mumbles a little breathlessly, caught off guard.
You don’t question him. Maybe you’ll ask in the morning, but you can’t risk it right now. This moment is too perfect to ruin with questions. Jason holds you with the most care you’ve ever seen him show to anyone and despite your racing heart, you are at peace.