He's told Bruce a thousand times; on the jet, in the villa, swimming in the country club pool. He hates the beach. Sand and salt and fish urine and lethal marine animals, Jason would stay home any day. And now Dick's gone and ruined the whole 'family' and 'vacation' part of the family vacation.
"You bastard," spits Jason, the wind in his hair and sweat on his skin. "you killed her, didn't you?" They're in suits on the seashore, Dick's dull blue tie flapping in the breeze like a torn flag. "You left her with that psycho, and she didn't make it out, isn't that right?" His brother drags a hand along his lower lip, like he always does when he's nervous.
"Jason." the wind is loud and he has to read his lips. "Jason. You have to know that it was an accident. There was enough time on his clock to come back and–and there was another woman on the other side of the facility that I couldn't just leave–" Lies lies Dick is a liar and now she's dead.
Jason throws his hands in the air, stumbling in the sand and pointing a finger at Dick's chest. "You're–this is what happened with Bruce. You're just like him. You let her die just like he let me and now you're going to live with it for the rest of your life!" Jason's being rash, he's not thinking straight, but Dick killed the lover and that was the worst, most unforgivable sin.
Dick holds up a hand in defense. "Wait, Jason. think about Gretta. What she would've wanted for you, the life she wished you could've lived–"
"Shut up!" He's hysterical now. "Gretta would want to be alive you sonuva bitch and you wouldn't even give her that!" He rushes at Dick, taking him by the collar of his suit and pulling him close. "You'll regret this." Dick isn't used to this, Jason's cold anger, so he's paralyzed as Jason hauls him into the waves and pushes him underwater, holding him there by a fistful of hair.
Dick's training kicks in soon enough, and his fingers leave deep ruts in Jason's skin as he scrabbles to reach the surface. He can hold his breath for a good long while, so Jason keeps his brother still for seconds, minutes, until he remembers what he's doing and pulls Dick up for air.
Jason wades back to shore as fast as he can carry him and lays his brother out on the sand. Dick sits there, pale, blue, like the bird on his chest. Jason is frozen for a moment as he tries not to shake. He plants his hands on Dick's chest, racking his brain for the number of compressions versus breaths. A rib cracks, then another. Jason gives up after eight minutes, leaning back in the sand and dear God what's he going to tell Bruce.
A long time later when Dick still hasn't moved, Jason tentatively takes his body into his arms. He's limp and lukewarm, purple lips and sand in his black hair. All Jason wants is for Dick to wake up so he can tell him that he forgives him and he loves him more than the sun itself and they can go back to playful banter and weekend fishing trips like brothers do.
The sky goes dim before Bruce finds out what happened, and Jason's hold on Dick is so tight Bruce has to fight him for posession of the body. Jason won't get up from the sand after that, so Bruce leaves him crying by himself.
