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Jason wakes up shaking and unable to breathe. It’s not like in the movies where everyone shoots up screaming, tears flowing down their face. No, Dream-Jason hits the ground and Real-Jason’s eyes snap open, unable to focus on the wall he’s staring at for a good minute. The last fleeting moments of the dream linger in his mind, fading as he tries to slow down his rapid heart rate. Slowly, he sits up, tucking his hands under him to keep them from shaking. His throat is dry, so he grapples in the dark until he feels the cool glass of the cup of water he keeps by his bed. His hand closes around it, bringing it almost desperately up to his mouth and not stopping until the last drop has slipped down his throat. He wipes at the spillage around his mouth and realizes he’s still thirsty. Reluctantly, he pushes the covers off of himself, swings his legs out of bed, and stands on shaky legs. He tries to keep his hands from trembling as he walks across the room and carefully opens the door.
He feels shaky as he steps out into the dark hallway, feet padding across the hardwood floors to the kitchen. He doesn’t bother turning on the light, not wanting to wake anyone. He doesn’t feel like being confronted for ruining someone’s sleep or having a conversation about why he’s awake in the first place. He relies on the light from the moon and stars coming in through the unnecessarily massive windows to find his way to the fridge for more water. As soon as his glass is filled, he chugs down over half of it before he stops to breathe.
“You okay there, man?” a voice asks from the darkness.
Jason jumps.
“Jesus fucking-what the fuck are you doing, Gar?” His voice sounds rough. He hopes Gar doesn’t notice.
Gar shrugs, flicking on the light next to him. He’s perched on the island counter, body calm but face telling a different story. He looks like Jason feels: terrified but trying to keep it together.
“Why the fuck are you awake?” Jason demands, turning toward the other fully.
Gar shrugs again. “Can’t sleep. Why are you awake?” He says it like it’s completely normal to be sitting in the dark at 3am.
“Don’t wanna sleep.”
“Bad dreams?”
“Why the fuck do you care? I don’t need you to be my fucking therapist.”
Gar chuckles, a dry, broken sound that almost hurts Jason’s heart. If he actually cared.
“You and no one else.”
Jason frowns. He’s seen it before: Gar taking care of everyone else. Gar trying to keep this fucked up family together with all his being. Gar being brushed aside when he has his own problems. The Titans can be called a lot, but heroes isn’t a term Jason would use. They’re all selfish, out for their own gain and glory, worried only about their own problems. Jason’s no saint himself, but Gar is. He’s the only one Jason would really think of as a hero. He puts everyone above himself, never complains, and never gives up on anyone . Even Jason.
Has anyone ever bothered to ask Gar if he’s alright?
Jason sighs, putting his glass down on the counter and sitting on one of the stools.
“You know it’s not your fault, right?”
Gar blinks, confused. “What?”
“The carnival, the cafe, the tunnels. None of that was your fault. Cadmus set that up, Cadmus brain-fucked you, I convinced you to go with me. None of what happened is on you.”
Gar sighs, shoulders slumping. “You didn’t make me go. I could’ve said no. I should’ve said no.”
“But you didn’t. Cause you knew a hero never lets someone go alone. You trusted me. You trust everyone.”
“What, you’re gonna tell me not to trust anyone anymore?”
Jason shrugs. “Nah, dude. Who you trust is up to you. I just wanted to say thanks.”
Gar furrows his brow. “What?”
Jason can’t help but roll his eyes. “Thank. You,” he emphasizes, maybe obnoxiously. “For being there. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been with me. Probably be dead by now.”
Gar shrugs, not even looking in Jason’s direction. “I didn’t do enough. I should’ve stayed with you.”
“And gotten yourself kidnapped, too? Plus, it’s not like I gave you any choice. Kinda ran off without you,” Jason mumbles, brain falling back into the torture he’d received. It’s been months, but he can still feel the serrated blade cutting into the flesh of his arm, rough-gloved fingers digging into him to find the tracker. Subconsciously, he rubs over the scar
“Hey. If I’m not supposed to blame myself, neither can you,” Gar tries, reaching over and giving Jason a quick pat on the shoulder.
To his own surprise, Jason doesn’t flinch at the touch. Instead, he gives a half smile, leaning against the counter.
“Gar, I killed Hank. Worse, I made Dawn kill Hank. I got a lot of Gotham killed. You guys have been fixing my mistakes for a year.”
“Three words man: Potent. Fear. Gas.” Gar holds up a finger for each word. “I know you weren’t yourself when that happened. So do the others. Sure, it’s gonna take some time for them to accept everything, but if they can forgive me for killing 17 people, I’m sure they’ll forgive you.”
Gar sounds so confident that Jason almost believes him. Almost.
“Sure. You think they forgave Deathstroke for killing Aqualad? They already hated me before I killed Hank. Man, I don’t even know why the fuck I’m still here. There’s nowhere for me. I don’t fucking belong,” Jason mutters, shaking his head.
Who is he kidding. Staying here is just a reminder for the Titans of everything they’d been through. But he can’t go back to Wayne Manor. Not with everything that had happened there. He can’t even think of the place without his hands starting to shake and his breathing getting shallow. Jason starts to walk back to his room, but a hand on his arm stops him.
“You belong here,” Gar mumbles, looking down. “With me. With us. Please stay.”
Jason falters. He’s never seen this kind of emotion from anyone. Not directed at him, at least.
“Gar…”
Tears slip down Gar’s face. “Please. No one’s ever listened to me. No one’s ever told me I did a good job before, Jason. Just…please don’t leave. You’re my friend.”
Jason curls in on himself. “I’m not the kind of friend you want, Gar.”
Gar pulls away, anger brimming in his eyes. “Why can’t anyone let me make my own decisions? Why does everyone get to decide for me?”
“Gar…”
“I don’t even get to decide whether I have my powers or what I do with them. I don’t get to decide who I stay around, who stays with me. I don’t even get to decide what I know. Why doesn’t anyone trust me with my own life?”
Gar is in full on breakdown mode now, hands shaking and tears flowing down his cheeks. Jason can’t stand the idea of waking anyone up, but he can’t stand Gar being upset even more. There’s gotta be something he can do.
“Gar, I’m sorry,”
Gar sniffles heavily, looking up. “Wh-what?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t get to decide for you. No one does. You’re a human and you should be able to make your own decisions. I just…I don’t want to hurt you again.”
Gar reaches up slowly and cups Jason’s cheeks. Jason’s hot, blushing cheeks. He’s glad it’s still mostly dark.
“You won’t,” Gar whispers, looking into Jason’s eyes. “And even if you do, don’t I get to decide who gets to hurt me and how I react.”
Jason nods absentmindedly. “Of course.” He coughs, but it doesn’t help. “Of course you do. Everyone does.”
They’re silent for a moment, drinking in each other’s presence before Gar breaks the silence, clearing his throat.
“We should probably go to bed. It’s late,” he notes, pulling back.
“Y-yeah. We should.”
Jason walks around the counter and grabs his water glass, filling it back up and taking a drink to fix his dry throat. His throat is dry for a completely different reason than it was before. Now he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been so close to anyone before, never been so intimate without being strictly romantic.
“You can stay in my room,” Gar says suddenly.
Jason whips around to look at him, spilling some of his water. “What?”
“I read somewhere that staying with a trusted person can ease nightmares,” Gar explains sheepishly, toeing the floor with his socked foot.
Jason shrugs, walking closer. “Worth a try. You sure your girlfriend will be okay with you sharing a bed with her worst enemy?”
Gar falters. “She’s not my-you’re not her worst enemy.”
Jason scoffs. “Sure seems to act like it.”
Gar rolls his eyes, lips quirked up in a disbelieving smirk. They walk back to Gar’s room in silence, closer to each other than Jason has ever been to anyone before. Gar turns the knob and pushes the door open with grandiose flare, letting Jason into his room, his private world. The walls are dark green and covered with animals and Jason’s never felt more comfortable in a place not his own. He takes in his new surroundings as he walks into the room.
“It’s not much, but…” Gar trails off, running his fingers along the edge of the desk.
Jason shrugs. “It’s yours. It’s perfect.”
Gar yawns, trying to hide it behind his hand, but Jason grabs him and pulls him down onto the bed.
“C’mon. If we’re gonna do this, we might as well be comfortable,” he tells the other.
Gar laughs and pulls the blankets over both of them, wrapping Jason up into his arms.
“Night, Jay.”
“Night, Gar.”