Ficlet: Above Ground | DCU | Jason/Tim | PG | 1/1
Title: Above Ground
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Rating: PG
Word Count: 785
Prompt: For comment_fic: DCU, Jason Todd/any, he had help to dig himself out this time; For 50_darkfics: Nails; For au_bingo: Alternate History: Canon Event Changed (third fill)
Summary: Tim has been here almost every night since Jason was buried.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: This is the way it *should* have gone, darnit!
Above Ground
Tim has been here almost every night since Jason was buried. A couple of times he had to dodge Bruce, but surprisingly, the man has only been a handful of times, and usually during the day. It's sad.
Even sadder that it's been six months since Jason died, and Tim is the only one here to mark the occasion. Bruce should be here. There should be flowers.
But since Tim can't risk Bruce knowing he was here, he doesn't have any flowers to lay on the grave, either, nothing to show that the second Robin is remembered, loved. It's not fai-
Kneeling at the graveside with a hand on the granite marker, Tim stills. He could swear he heard a faint cry for help in the distance. A... a scream.
He can't help whoever it is. Only Robin could. Or Batman. If only Batman was here.
The scream comes to him louder this time, but... muffled. It's not....
A cold dread spreads through him as he realizes the screams aren't anywhere out in the night air, but-he bends down to put his ear to the ground-underneath him.
“Bruce!”
His heart in his throat, Tim does the only thing he can think to, and starts digging, his fingers sinking into the soft earth and pulling it out in clumps. Not fast enough. Not fast enough!
“Help! Bruce!” And there's knocking, scraping, and Tim realizes Jason is really down there, alive. Alive! And... and trying to get out.
Oh gods, he's gonna suffocate!
A quick look around, hands still moving earth as fast as they can, and he spots the caretaker's shed not too far off. Shovel! he thinks wildly.
It takes less than a minute to get to the shed, pick the lock, grab a shovel, and get back, his heart racing as he starts in on the grave again. His arms start burning entirely too soon with the work, his chest burning with the need for more oxygen, but he knows Jason needs air worse than he does. He has to keep going!
The screams are quieter by the time Tim is a few feet down in the dirt, only an area cleared around him big enough to get into the coffin. He's still alive. Gotta hurry.
Then he hears the splintering, cracking, and the ground begins to give way beneath him.
Another surge of adrenaline shoots down his spine, and he redoubles his efforts, digging, moving earth, his arms and shoulders on fire, even as his feet sink with the dirt moving beneath him. He-
A sudden tug of gravity, and Tim falls with the earth as the grave seems to open up beneath him, a pair of hands suddenly there, issuing forth from the ground, caked in dirt.
Tim struggles to get his footing on the loose earth, to not step on the collapsed coffin beneath him, and he grasps the hands, pulling. “I've got you!” he yells, “Just hold on, I've got you.”
A few long tugs, and Jason is coming up out of the ground, dark hair, pale skin obscured in the semi-darkness and covered in dirt. “Bruce,” he whimpers.
“He's not here,” Tim says, helping Jason up, his own chest pounding with exertion and shock.
When they're both out of the grave, Tim slumps down next to Jason on the grass, both of them gasping in the cool air as a light rain begins to fall around them. He can't take his eyes off the other boy, Jason's burial suit ripped and filthy, his face bruised and battered. He looks like... like he's still wearing the injuries that caused his death.
Taking one of Jason's hands in his gently, he murmurs, “It's okay, gonna get you to a hospital.” It'll be one hell of a trip, he thinks, already planning to get Jason away from the grave before calling 911.
“Bruce....”
“Don't worry, I'll call him,” Tim nods, his heart in his throat again. Oh, that's gonna be a difficult conversation.
Standing, he pulls Jason to his feet enough to get him to the sidewalk outside the cemetery, and that's when he sees the older boy's hands in the light of the lone streetlamp. The skin is cut open, his fingers swollen, broken, nails torn and bloody.
Jason had to claw his way out of his own coffin.
Tim can't imagine how much worse it could've been if he hadn't been here. But he is, and with a quick call, there's an ambulance on its way. Holding Jason as they slump to the sidewalk together, the older boy's frame much larger than his own, heavier, Tim can't help the whimper that escapes him.
He doesn't know how, but Jason is here, above ground, alive, even if his body is wrecked, and Tim has no plans to let him go. Explanations can wait for later.
~*~*~*~
Fandom: DCU
Pairing: Jason/Tim
Rating: PG
Word Count: 785
Prompt: For comment_fic: DCU, Jason Todd/any, he had help to dig himself out this time; For 50_darkfics: Nails; For au_bingo: Alternate History: Canon Event Changed (third fill)
Summary: Tim has been here almost every night since Jason was buried.
Disclaimer: DC and WB own everything, the schmucks.
Author's Notes: This is the way it *should* have gone, darnit!
Above Ground
Tim has been here almost every night since Jason was buried. A couple of times he had to dodge Bruce, but surprisingly, the man has only been a handful of times, and usually during the day. It's sad.
Even sadder that it's been six months since Jason died, and Tim is the only one here to mark the occasion. Bruce should be here. There should be flowers.
But since Tim can't risk Bruce knowing he was here, he doesn't have any flowers to lay on the grave, either, nothing to show that the second Robin is remembered, loved. It's not fai-
Kneeling at the graveside with a hand on the granite marker, Tim stills. He could swear he heard a faint cry for help in the distance. A... a scream.
He can't help whoever it is. Only Robin could. Or Batman. If only Batman was here.
The scream comes to him louder this time, but... muffled. It's not....
A cold dread spreads through him as he realizes the screams aren't anywhere out in the night air, but-he bends down to put his ear to the ground-underneath him.
“Bruce!”
His heart in his throat, Tim does the only thing he can think to, and starts digging, his fingers sinking into the soft earth and pulling it out in clumps. Not fast enough. Not fast enough!
“Help! Bruce!” And there's knocking, scraping, and Tim realizes Jason is really down there, alive. Alive! And... and trying to get out.
Oh gods, he's gonna suffocate!
A quick look around, hands still moving earth as fast as they can, and he spots the caretaker's shed not too far off. Shovel! he thinks wildly.
It takes less than a minute to get to the shed, pick the lock, grab a shovel, and get back, his heart racing as he starts in on the grave again. His arms start burning entirely too soon with the work, his chest burning with the need for more oxygen, but he knows Jason needs air worse than he does. He has to keep going!
The screams are quieter by the time Tim is a few feet down in the dirt, only an area cleared around him big enough to get into the coffin. He's still alive. Gotta hurry.
Then he hears the splintering, cracking, and the ground begins to give way beneath him.
Another surge of adrenaline shoots down his spine, and he redoubles his efforts, digging, moving earth, his arms and shoulders on fire, even as his feet sink with the dirt moving beneath him. He-
A sudden tug of gravity, and Tim falls with the earth as the grave seems to open up beneath him, a pair of hands suddenly there, issuing forth from the ground, caked in dirt.
Tim struggles to get his footing on the loose earth, to not step on the collapsed coffin beneath him, and he grasps the hands, pulling. “I've got you!” he yells, “Just hold on, I've got you.”
A few long tugs, and Jason is coming up out of the ground, dark hair, pale skin obscured in the semi-darkness and covered in dirt. “Bruce,” he whimpers.
“He's not here,” Tim says, helping Jason up, his own chest pounding with exertion and shock.
When they're both out of the grave, Tim slumps down next to Jason on the grass, both of them gasping in the cool air as a light rain begins to fall around them. He can't take his eyes off the other boy, Jason's burial suit ripped and filthy, his face bruised and battered. He looks like... like he's still wearing the injuries that caused his death.
Taking one of Jason's hands in his gently, he murmurs, “It's okay, gonna get you to a hospital.” It'll be one hell of a trip, he thinks, already planning to get Jason away from the grave before calling 911.
“Bruce....”
“Don't worry, I'll call him,” Tim nods, his heart in his throat again. Oh, that's gonna be a difficult conversation.
Standing, he pulls Jason to his feet enough to get him to the sidewalk outside the cemetery, and that's when he sees the older boy's hands in the light of the lone streetlamp. The skin is cut open, his fingers swollen, broken, nails torn and bloody.
Jason had to claw his way out of his own coffin.
Tim can't imagine how much worse it could've been if he hadn't been here. But he is, and with a quick call, there's an ambulance on its way. Holding Jason as they slump to the sidewalk together, the older boy's frame much larger than his own, heavier, Tim can't help the whimper that escapes him.
He doesn't know how, but Jason is here, above ground, alive, even if his body is wrecked, and Tim has no plans to let him go. Explanations can wait for later.
~*~*~*~