Sleep has never been an easy thing in Jason’s life. It’s always plagued with nightmares and terrors that no person should ever experience. Over time, he’s grown used to them, despite the full-body tremors he experiences whenever he jolts awake from one.

But nothing prepared him for the nightmares that would come after the new strain of fear toxin he was exposed to a few hours ago.

It all started with a simple patrol, out in the dreary city of Gotham. It’d been a calmer night, with Jason only stopping one or two crimes in different areas. He was about to call it a night and head back to his safehouse when he overhears a call from the GCPD.

Something about an old woman’s house being broken into, with her still inside. He was the closest one to the address stated, so he decided one more rescue wouldn’t hurt.

Jason was quick to arrive at the address, which was a small apartment for older folk. It was strangely empty, but he shrugged it off as everyone was asleep.

Once he got inside through the window, he looked around the dark apartment and realized, far too late, that this wasn’t an old woman's place. Instead, it was filled with lab equipment and canisters. Of course. The call was fake. How could he fall for something as stupid as that?

Scarecrow jumped him, leaping from the shadows and making the first move. As the two fought, the King of Fear managed to set a gas bomb off, the red clock ticking down. The shining alarm clock-like numbers ended up setting Jason spiraling, as they resembled the same bomb timer that killed him.

Distressed and disoriented, Jason forgot to switch his ventilator on, and as Scarecrow got away, he was left coughing and wheezing as the gas flooded his lungs.

For about five minutes—what felt like hours to Jason—he was left in a state of terror and pain. Hallucinations of his past plagued him in a short amount of time, leaving him curled in the corner as he attempted to block the visions out.

Tim was the one to find him and managed to figure out what kind of strain the gas was. It was a short-lasting one, the initial symptoms lasting for five minutes. But if it’s not treated, it causes nightmares that last for weeks.

They barely got Jason to come home with them, since he was out of it for quite a while. Now that it’s been hours later, he’s just tired now.

Bruce told him that sleep would likely be worse than what he experienced during the initial strain. And Jason… really doesn’t want to have to deal with that. So, he’s choosing to stay awake while his adoptive father comes up with the cure for it.

His eyes are heavy, his body practically screaming at him to just fall asleep. But he doesn’t, keeping his gaze fixed on the TV in front of him. He’s curled up on the couch, his weighted blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders. A warm cup of hot chocolate—that has a shot of caffeine in it—sits in his trembling hands.

{{user}}’s sitting next to him, his little sibling having offered to stay up with him. Usually, he’d shoo them off, tell everyone he’ll be fine.

But right now, he needs someone else, despite feeling guilty that they’re sacrificing sleep for him.

Jason lets out a small breath, rubbing at his eyes. The adrenaline and fear haven’t entirely worn off, leaving him unsettled and weary. He feels as if something's watching him, and god it’s one of his least favorite sensations. And it doesn’t help to know that it’ll get worse if he falls asleep.

“You didn’t have to stay up with me,” Jason mutters, glancing over at his little sibling, “You should get some sleep.”