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Gotham City burned.
Fire raged all around them and cut through the Gotham night. On every building. On the rainbow of toxic chemicals gleaming on the polluted river draining into the sea. On his raw flesh. Lashing rain and thundering lightning from above could do nothing to quell the unnatural flames.
Jason forced himself to his knees despite the pain, spitting out a mouthful of bitter seawater and human bile. The deep, bleeding wounds that covered his body burned from the salt. All he could taste was his own blood. All he could smell was death. Gasoline. Fire. The end of the fucking world. Wet beach sand ground against the cuts on the bare skin of his palms.
“Slade,” he gapsed.
“I’m here, Jase. I’ve got you.”
Even with the entire goddamn planet in ruins, Jason could trust that.
Slade collapsed onto the sand beside him. The Ikon suit was in tatters. Blood dripped from his lips. His sword was gone. His eyepatch lost to the churning seawater. He had rescued and then carried both Dick and Jason back to shore, escaping from the prison ship those monsters had trapped them in. Darkseid’s parademons were invading through massive arcane portals in the world’s sky. It was the biggest invasion that Apokolips had ever launched. Gotham, like always, suffered for it.
Dick had snuck onto a prison ship with the goal of rescuing the civilians kidnapped by fucking parademons. They captured him. Jason followed because he would never leave his brother to face death alone. Red Hood had been caught—stupid, pathetic—and overwhelmed by sheer numbers. They chained him together with Nightwing and tortured them both. Slade came for them. Slade saved them.
“Where’s Dick?” Jason rubbed his eyes, blinking salt and ash and soot from his vision. He wasn’t so naïve that he thought that the civilians could be saved. But. Dick was his brother. “You got him, right?”
Slade was silent.
Jason looked over the empty beach, lit up by flames and lightning, and saw… nothing. No familiar smile or flash of blue or stupid quip or— “Slade? Where is he?!”
He managed three steps, bare feet sinking into the dark beach sand, before he collapsed on a badly broken leg. Pain shot up his spine. Jason screamed. (For his brother, or for his lover, or for himself, he had no idea.) The sound was lost to the fiery void. All of Earth was screaming. All of Earth was dying.
“It’s too late.” Slade grabbed his arm and dragged him back to his side. The empty, scarred hollow of his eye socket stared back at Jason. “There wasn’t enough time.”
“No-no-no! You have to go back! You have to save him!”
Slade’s grip on his arm tightened before Jason could try to run into the burning wreckage sinking into the sea. “There’s nothing left to save. They triggered some kind of self-destruct bomb when I broke in to rescue you. I barely got you out before the whole fucking thing blew.”
God.
Let him die again.
He got his own brother killed. If Jason hadn’t let himself get caught, then Slade wouldn’t have followed him to save his sorry ass.
Slade had tried to stop him. Tried to lecture him about lost causes. Tried to promise him a new plan, a better plan, if they just had time. But there was no time. The world was on fire. Darkseid had his brother. The rest of their family was already dead, or missing, or facing a dozen horrific fates that Jason didn’t want to imagine. Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, Tim, Damian, Kate, Duke, Harper, Helena, Luke, Alfred… His family was gone. His city was gone. Bruce was gone. Dick was all he had.
“You left him behind.” Jason’s voice cracked.
“I did.”
And it’s your fucking fault went unsaid. The heavy, ugly words hung in the night air. Slade’s impassive face stared back at Jason and the glow of firelight flickered on his bare face. His own wounds had healed. Only dried blood remained.
Too late.
It’s your fault.
Too late.
It’s your fault.
Too late! Jason would have died for a second time if that meant his sweet older brother, his perfect brother, got to live in his place.
“You should have saved him.”
“I’ll always choose you.”
And the world kept burning.