-NOVEMBER 30TH, 2012- -9:00pm-
GOTHAM CITY
Pain. It burned every muscle, tore through every vein, ravaging every inch of his body with white-hot agony. Oh god, help me…
He could smell burnt flesh, his own, and feel the congealing blood blanketing his face, hair, and skin where his Kevlar suit had torn.
Nightwing lay completely skill, more out of fear than anything else, though he quickly told himself it was the smart thing to do. No sense in aggravating any injuries he had more than necessary, correct? Alright, Grayson, think for a minute, he thought to himself. What do you remember?
A drug bust gone wrong. Bombs. Fire. Pain.
Anything else?
Batman was dealing with the drug dealer's partner on the outskirts of the city, with Robin. He wasn't coming.
Okay, he could've dealt without that particular thought, because now he felt tendrils of fear snaking up his spine. Injured and on my own. Okay, what do you do first, Grayson? Think.
Check your injuries.
One eyelid cracked open slowly, very slowly. Then the other. Carefully, he risked blinking a few times to clear the ash from his vision, ash which made his eyes water. Not tears, he told himself firmly. Not from the pain, not from the fear. From the stupid ash and dust.
Most of his mask was gone, he realized grimly. God, I feel naked. Batman will kill me if I don't get myself out of this situation before someone blabs to the world that Dick Grayson is Batman's partner Nightwing. He'd only been flying as this new personae for a month. I can't screw up, can't screw up. He glanced at his battered body. Please, please, nothing more than cuts and bruises, please…
Two large, round tears in his flesh dripped small rivulets of precious blood into a small crimson pool beside him. Bullet wounds. Not good, not good, not good. What the… ow! Broken leg, maybe damaged knee. Oh-h, crap…
He'd seen the injuries, and now he felt the pain, adding onto the already overwhelming burden. More 'ash' entered his eyes, resulting in several droplets running down his cheeks. C'mon, Grayson, deal with this! the seventeen-year-old chastised himself. You've seen Jason get the crap beat out of him, and he doesn't bat an eye. He's two years younger than you, for crying out loud! Fix this!
He tested out his other leg. Pinned to the ground by debris. Arms? One screamed in pain when he lifted it more than a few inches. Dislocated shoulder. Other arm? Free; but suddenly, all his energy seemed sapped away. Black dots danced with his vision, blurring it repeatedly. C'mon, c'mon! Get up, get up, get up! Okay, the move! Lift your arm! Ow! Other arm! Ugh, why can't I do this? And why does it hurt so bad? He couldn't be in this much trouble, just couldn't. Bruce is already paranoid about me not being by his side twenty-four seven. He catches me like this…
Need to get to the cave before he returns. Get to the cave, patch myself up. Maybe I'll let Alfred help, and convince him to keep quiet… no, he wouldn't keep injuries this bad from Bruce. Okay, I'll do it myself. I know how. Just gotta get back to the cave, get back on my own steam, and everything'll be fine… He winced as more droplets escaped his eyes as his kneecap was jerked by his determined movement, and white worms squiggled across his vision. Oh-h-h god, it hurts… Tears, yes, this time definitely tears, blurred his sight even more as his teeth grit together. U-ugh… I s-should be able to d-do this…
"Wing?"
The voice came from above, he noted. He opened one eye, unable to see clearly with both, and caught the figure of someone clad in black, yellow, and red standing on a piece of debris above him, arms crossed over his chest. Robin cocked one eyebrow down at his older brother. "Wow," he remarked, smirking. "Nice job on the demolition project, bro."
He wanted to reply, but he was cold, and shaking now, and oh god his body hurt so bad…
Upon hearing lack of response, Robin's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a concerned frown. "Nightwing, you okay?" Still no answer. "Dickbird?" And then he was scrambling down towards the young man's side, efficiently scraping his elbow on a sheet of metal but not caring, stifling a profanity but not stopping. "Hey, Wing! C'mon, talk to me!" He felt to his knees. "Wing, wake up! What hurts?!"
Everything. Everything hurts, Jason, hurts so bad... He managed a weak groan, and felt familiar hands ghost over his face. God, your fingers are so cold, Jay… or is it just me going into shock? Ugh! Don't touch that, it hurts!
One eyelid managed to slide open a bit more, and he stared at his younger brother's wide-eyes and nervous frown as the second Robin looked over his injuries. And then he realized the other vigilante was also missing his usual mask. What? "Jay," he gasped. "What's going on…?"
"Don't talk," was the instant rebuttal. "You'll get everything explained to you later, once your better. Geez, what did you do, hug the stupid bomb as it went off? You look like…"
Another spasm of pain caused a barely contained hiss and another set of tears. Jason stopped talking and, with unusual tenderness, placed a still-cold hand on the forehead before him. "I've got some painkillers on my belt," he said quickly. "I can give you those and then go get Batman."
Painkillers, yes, yes, yes. "Wait," he moaned as the Robin reached for his utility belt. Don't wait! screamed his brain in protest. "W-What k-kind?" Knowledge of his various reactions to different pills still stood out despite the fact that he felt like he was dying. Maybe he was. Oh god…
"Now's not the time for you to worry about getting knocked out for a few hours, bird brain," Jason said, already shaking out a pill or two from a small bottle. "Besides, doesn't sleep sound good right now?"
Yes. He took the pills dry with help from the younger boy, already feeling his eyes grow heavy as Jason finished going over his wounds.
"Put pressure on most of the heavy bleeding," the Robin stated. "Good thing I got here when I did, or you might be dead. Do I get a thank you or what?"
Didn't even feel you take care of the injuries. Must be strong meds. "Where'sh Batmn." His speech was getting slurred as the dark corners in his eyes advanced.
"Outskirts of Gotham, dealing with something," said the younger of the two. He moved from his knees so that he was crouching on his heels. "I'm gonna go get him over here right now. Don't go anywhere."
He was still looking into vibrant green eyes, and that still confused him. "Masks…" he gasped weakly.
Jason cut him off with a shake of his head. "Don't need 'em. Not right now, anyway."
What? What's going on? Jay…?
And suddenly, there was fire in his chest, despite the painkillers. And he couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe… His lungs wouldn't move, his throat closed up, and then he was gagging, violently spitting a wave of blood from his mouth, and he was panicking again, oh god, oh god, oh god…
And then… then Jason was gripping both sides of his face, firmly but gently, so unusual for the boy. Fingers tangled in his sweat-soaked hair as Robin drew his older brother close, emerald eyes burning…
"Breathe!" the younger brother whispered hoarsely.
And Dick found he could take a breath.
Wha…
"Breathe," Jason repeated desperately; and… and were those tears in his eyes?! "Don't you dare die, Dick," he added, sounding so anxious and pleading. "Don't you dare die. You hang in there, even though it hurts. Batman's coming now, right now, I promise…"
H-How? Jason?! He felt unconsciousness closing in, and his vision was limited to his little brother's fervent, fiery green eyes, staring at him through unshed tears. Jason, what's happening? What's wrong? Jay…
"…I came here to save you, Dickbird, so don't go dying on me. Because that just cannot happen. It can't. Remember that. You can't die, under any circumstances, you cannot die…!"
Jay... All he could see was black now, Jason's voice screaming now in his head, cold fingers slowly leaving his face and hair.
"…You're gonna be okay, Dick. No matter what, you're gonna be okay. Remember that it's your birthday in two days? Well, here's my gift. Here's my gift, Dick. Goodb…"
And then all he knew was darkness.
.
::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: 24 HOURS LATER ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::
.
He'd gotten the call from Alfred. He'd been kneeling numbly in a similarly demolished warehouse on the other side of Gotham when he answered his Comm. When he heard 'Agent A.' quickly explain he'd just gotten an anonymous tip – that Nightwing was injured and needed immediate help. He'd left, with tears already streaming down his face for a reason still unknown to anyone but himself.
24 hours later, and Bruce Wayne sat in the infirmary section of the Batcave, watching as Dick Grayson slowly awoke. Finally.
He felt his eyes burn as he watched his eldest son blink once, twice, and then turn his head to face him. Your safe, your safe, your safe… oh god, Dick, oh god…
Dick's eyes immediately locked onto his own. "Bruce?" the boy murmured weakly, blinking again.
He reached over, placed a calloused hand upon the thin one before him – an act of affection so rarely shown by the Dark Knight of Gotham. "I'm here," he said hoarsely.
The young man was still unaware of his father's trembling. "I guess Jay managed to get me here in one piece," he said quietly. "He's never gonna let me live this one down, once he sees I'm better. That means he's saved my butt three times more than I've saved him. Terrific."
What? His eyes widened in confusion at that statement. "What?" he repeated aloud.
Only now did Dick realize the tears in his eyes. "Bruce, what's wrong…?"
"What did you say?"
Dick stared at him in bewilderment. "I just meant to say I need to thank Jason for saving my ass back at the warehouse," he replied, gaping when Bruce paled completely. "What's wrong? What's happened, Bruce?"
Bruce gaped as well, a single tear managing to drop onto his lap. What are you saying, Dickie? Oh god, what are you saying? "Jason didn't save you last night, Dick," he choked out. "H-He couldn't have." He couldn't have…
"What are you talking about? He found me in that rubble, checked my wounds, called you…" Bruce, what is going on? Bruce?
Dick saw his father's lips move, but didn't hear the words. Or, he did hear them, but they wouldn't register with his mind. He did hear Jason's name, and then his heart gave this painful skip. He felt sick, suddenly. Very, very sick.
And then he heard Bruce say it again.
"Jason wasn't there with you. Dick… Dick, J-Jason's… Jason's… Jason is dead, Dick."
No.
He felt ghostly cold hands run through his hair, and he shivered. "No." He'd been injured, yes, but Jason had been there with him, patched him up. He'd felt his brother there. Felt him! What kind of sick joke is this, Bruce? It isn't funny, isn't funny at all. Stop it. Are you crying? Stop it, Bruce! Stop it! It's not funny! Stop!
But he wasn't stopping. "Joker got involved in the drug dealing last night," the man was saying, eyes shut now, voice wavering, not at all like Batman's. "Lured… lured J-Jason to an old warehouse outside the city. H-He had bombs rigged..."
No, no, no, no, no! Stop it! You trying to make me think I'm crazy? I was with Jason? What are you trying to say?
"…h-he locked Jason inside…"
No! No! He was with me, Bruce! He was with me! Don't you see? H-He wasn't with you that night, he was with me! Stop lying to me, Bruce… why are you saying this? Horrible, horrible words, words that terrified him. Stop it, Bruce! Stop it, stop it, stop it!
"…the warehouse was destroyed, Dick. Blown up, a-and Jason… 9pm last night, Dick…"
"No!" The scream was ripped from his throat so suddenly Bruce actually jumped to his feet. Dick glared at him through hot, angry tears. "No, you're lying! Stop it! It isn't funny!" His voice cracked. "I saw him! He was with me, Bruce! With me! He stopped my bleeding, he called you to come find me, he was talking to me last night, Bruce! At 9:00, Jay was with me! So stop it!" He was with me, he was with me, he was with me! Why are you saying he's dead, Bruce?! Why?!
"Dick, stop it! Calm down!"
"No, he's not dead! I was with him! He was laughing, he cut himself on a doorframe, I saw the blood! I felt his cut, he gave me pills, he was there, Bruce! "
"Dick!"
"Stop lying to me!" He was sobbing now. Why am I crying? Jason's not dead, Jason's not dead, Jason was with me, not locked up in some warehouse… oh god! Jason was with me! He didn't notice Bruce's own tears, or his hoarse cry for Alfred, or the needle that was plunged into his arm.
Why is he lying to me? Why is he lying to me? Why is he lying to me?
The dark corners returned.
Why are you lying to me? Why are you lying to me?
Unconsciousness came again.
Jason's not dead, Bruce. He's not dead!
And he was out again.
Jason's not dead…
.
::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::
.
Bruce was numb. Numb to the very core as he watched Dick finally slip back into drug-induced slumber, tears still rolling down the boy's cheeks and his own. And Alfred's too. The older man looked so shaken Bruce feared he would have a coronary, and guided the elder to a chair, where he sat with his eyes closed and his hands folded.
He collapsed into a chair, biting his lip, struggling to lock up the grief threatening to overwhelm him.
Jason is dead. Jason is dead. Jason is dead.
"He's not! He's not dead!"
Dick's words haunted him. He said he saw him last night, he said Jason was there with him. But he wasn't. When Dick was in that building, I was holding Jason's body. I held him against my heart – not breathing, no beating… That's when I got the call that you were hurt in that building, Dick. I couldn't lose you too, not after Jay…
"Master Bruce?"
Alfred's voice sounded so… old. Even for the butler's age, it was unnatural; and unwelcome. Bruce straightened, plastered on his Batman face. We can't all fall apart at once. We can't.
"Perhaps," the elder man continued, not looking at the man before him but staring at the wall straight ahead. "Perhaps going to visit the site will help…"
"No." You should know better than that, Alfred; know I would never go back where Jason…
"Not there," Alfred responded quickly but quietly. "I mean where Master Richard…"
Where I found Dick…. But why… "What do you expect me to find there?"
No answer.
What do I expect to find there? He suited up, got onto the Cycle, put it in drive. What do I want to find? He knew it was impossible that Jason had been there; but Dick wouldn't hallucinate what he told me for nothing, would he? What the hell happened last night…
The site provided rubble, debris; and in the corner where he found Dick, a large amount of blood, pooled together or spread across fallen bricks and the concrete floor, a sight that made his stomach churn. He did normal clean up duty – a simple spray of a special chemical mixture congealed and then hardened the blood, making it unable to extract DNA from. He'd found Dick unmasked, and after a careful look around, grabbed all the cameras – even if they were broken – and then found the mask itself across the ruins.
"No, he's not dead! I was with him! He was laughing, he cut himself on a doorframe, I saw the blood! I felt his cut, he gave me pills, he was there, Bruce!"
He found part of the doorway with a small trickle of still-wet blood on it; and beside it, a torn piece of familiar blue Kevlar. Dick's suit… Dick's blood…
What happened to you, Dickie? he thought brokenly as he broke off the fragment of glass, and pocketed it. Slowly, he reached for his Comm. "Agent A," he spoke into it. "Did you do a blood scan on Nightwing?"
"Yes," came the reply. "Nothing… no… not trace of any drug or medication of any kind."
"Alright. Batman out."
Oh Dick…
.
::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: 3 DAYS LATER ::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::
.
"Hey, Dickbird, wake up."
No… Yet, no matter how badly he didn't want to, his eyes flew open at the sound of that voice.
There was that traditional smirk. "So… you're still alive. So I did my job. Still didn't get that thank you."
"You're not real," Dick mumbled miserably, closing his eyes again. "You're dead. And you were dead three days ago too. Bruce wants me to talk to Dinah tonight." A stupid therapist… well, not that Black Canary is stupid, but…
"Whatever you say, Dickbird."
"Stop talking!" He couldn't take it anymore. "Bruce showed me where you 'cut yourself'. It had a piece of my suit there – it was my blood. I didn't have any trace of your painkiller in my system. You weren't there." He was crying again. "You weren't there, Jay. You're not here now. You're dead." You left me… you're gone, you're gone for good… oh god, you're dead, Jaybird… "I saw your body."
His eyes were still closed, but he didn't need to see Jason's shrug to know it was there. "Okay then, Dickie. I'm dead. If you want to believe it, go ahead."
"Damn it, I don't want to believe it!"
"But you have to, right?"
"…yes." Your dead, Jason is dead, Jason really is dead…
"Well, for that, I'm sorry, Dickbird." Jay's voice was quieter, that regretful tone back in it. Sadder. "Well then… see ya around. Or not. I dunno…"
"…oh, hey, happy birthday, Dick."
Dick's eyes snapped open, to see an empty room.
Oh god, oh god, oh god…
.
::::: ::::: ::::: ::::: :::::
.
Alfred slipped out of the hallway silently, subconsciously wiping the wet sheen from his eyes before tears could be formed. God help us all.
He descended the stairs, entered the parlor, played a few notes on the piano, and entered the Batcave. Bruce and Black Canary were already inside, and looked up expectantly. Bruce made eye contact. "Is he alright?"
He didn't reply, but his face darkened; that was all he needed to hear. Running a hand through his hair, he turned to Dinah Stone. 'Talking' to Jason again, Dick…?
"The trauma and shock from everything's that's happened could explain what he's doing now," Dinah said gently. "As for why he imagined Jason in the first place… well, I'll have to talk to him first to make that diagnosis." A sigh. "Even if it isn't entirely helpful; maybe, in the future, this might prove to be a good thing… maybe, it was Dick's way of saying goodbye to Jason, even if he didn't know what had happened across town yet."
Maybe, maybe… "I'll go with that," Bruce said wearily; then, he got up and crossed the room, "Thanks, Dinah."
"It's nothing, Bruce."
All three adults left the cave.
And on a small evidence table, one of the cameras fizzled in and out; and then a small video began playing.
/ "Wing? Wow, nice job on the demolition project, bro." /
A little red figure on the screen moved over to the blue-clad young man lying on the ground.
/ "Wing, can you hear me? Tell me where it hurts!" /
The video rolled on.
/ "You're gonna be okay, Dick. No matter what, you're going to be okay…" /
On the screen, Nightwing fell unconscious, and Jason knelt near his brother's limp body for a moment before getting up.
/ "Hang in there, big bro," Jason said. "This is my goodbye gift. But don't worry, I'll be around to annoy your ass soon enough. Just hang tight, and don't let Bruce… be there for Bruce, 'kay? 'Kay. Goodbye, Dick." /
The memory disc melted, the camera fizzed out, and the entire mechanism sparked, broke down, never to work again.
Upstairs, Dick shut his eyes tight. Cold, he was cold. Jay…
Jason never visited again.
And back in the Batcave, a machine beeped and spat out a paper, results from Bruce's one last attempt to prove to his eldest son that Jason had never been there.
/ DNA SCAN COMPLETE ::: EXAMPLE ALPHA SCANNED ::: EXAMPLE BETA – JASON TODD :: EXAMPLES COMPARED ::: EXAMPLES MATCH ::: PERFECT MATCH ::: PERFECT MATCH ::: /
"See ya soon, Dickbird."
*end*
A/N: so, definetely not my best writing; but I did enjoy this strange plot, and I hope you enjoyed reading it. I admit, I couldn't done way better; but I'm not used to writing this sort of story, so... eh.
For those of you following Blink of an Eye, that is on temporary hold. And for those of you following my Star Wars stories... I'm working on it!