Disclaimer: I don't own nothing except my fantastic grammar. Hardy-har-har.
Ch.1: Successors and Predecessors
The hum of the motorcycle roared throughout the long cave. The cavern walls only amplified the sound, the noise thundering and vibrating all along the enclosure as the cycle zoomed down the tunnel, nothing but a blur of blue light that disappeared as quickly as it came. The sheer intensity of the noise had the bats inside of the cave stirring and screeching, even before the bike appeared in the central cavern system. When it finally broke the exit of the long tunnel it'd been traveling down, the bats finally began flailing about, shrieking as they flapped about. The ruckus refused to die down until the motorcycle had come to a complete stop, and the engine shut off, leaving the impressive cycle dead and still.
With a faint chuckle, Nightwing pulled off his helmet as the third Robin did the same behind him. The younger boy glared at the older in an obvious gesture of irritation, even though Nightwing was in front of him and Robin could only see the back of his head. Still, the glare was harsh enough for the oldest Boy Wonder to feel it boring into his skull, which only fueled his amusement as he looked over his shoulder and asked Robin, "Aw, is someone bitter back there?"
"Shut up, Dick."
"Being right never gets old."
Robin rolled his eyes as Nightwing carefully swung one leg around to slip off his motorcycle. After, he turned to Robin, his smile becoming a tad bit gentler as he held out his hand to help. "Come on, Tim. Let's get you up to the med bay so Alfred can check you out. I know you're convinced that you have nothing more than a sprain, but let's be thorough, shall we?"
The younger boy begrudgingly agreed with the male, accepting the help off of the cycle after he brought his uninjured limb over the side of the motorcycle. Nightwing chuckled again, undeterred by the fact he had to act as a crutch, and the two slowly began the trek towards the direction of the infirmary, where Nightwing would drop Robin off before going to get Alfred. As they contently walked along, Tim pulled the mask from his eyes, as did Dick. As soon as they did, Tim laughed, causing the older to look down at him startled as he asked, "What?!"
Pointing at Dick's face and with the biggest, brightest smile ever manifested on his face, Tim asked, "You know that explosion that went off earlier tonight that you almost got caught it?"
"Yeah…?" The oldest Bat-Boy drawled, narrowing his eyes in suspicion and confusion at the younger's prodding.
"Yeah, your entire face got burned, except for where your mask usually is. You got a big, ole white raccoon mask around your eyes now."
"What?!" Dick yelled, his free hand whipping up to smack the side of his face as he tried to feel for the outline on his face. Tim snickered beside him, limping lightly as they walked along. A groan fell from Dick's mouth, though he hadn't managed to find the ridges with his gloved fingers. Under his breath, he muttered, "Dammit… I'm not going anywhere for a few days."
"I'm sure Bruce has something somewhere to cover it up." Tim commented, grinning in what he hoped was a helpful manner, though it only exposed the sheer amount of amusement he had for the situation. Dick only glared at the other for laughing, stuck his tongue, and then laughed along as well. However, their pleasurable atmosphere dispersed when the sharp sound of a door slamming boomed throughout the cave, followed by Alfred irritably calling, "Master Jason, do come back! There is still much that needs to be done before I can safely allow you to leave."
The name caused the two Bats to freeze in their tracks, confusion and shock raging in their eyes. Then they were moving as fast as they could, with Tim's bad foot and all. (They wouldn't be so cautious, if Tim's sprained foot hadn't just finished healing from a clean break only a few weeks prior.) The stomping of thick boots bounced off the cavern walls, just as the roar of the motorcycle had, speaking measures of the state of mind the visitor was in. The situation wasn't looking very good, though when anything involved the certain wayward Bat, it never was. The only comfort came in knowing that Alfred would escape harm, as it seemed that the visitor had no grudge against the man as he did the rest of the family.
Fortunately for the two Bats, the med bay wasn't far from the designated garage, and Dick and Tim made it up to the computer's platform in time to see Jason climb the first couple of steps to the grandfather clock. His back was to them, and he was eerily silent as he zipped up his leather jacket, though it was obvious there was something bothering him as he moved his arms about. Alfred was standing near the large computer, obviously exasperated and even the slightest bit flustered with the second bird's actions. His hands were covered in blood, which was undoubtedly Jason's, but the two boys were blind to whatever wound there was, with the other male hiding his injuries so well.
"Jason." Dick called, stopping a good distance from both the wayward bird and the flustered Alfred. Tim looked after his predecessor with obvious hesitance and a semblance of fear in his eyes, which was to be expected after everything Jason had dealt out to them over the months and years.
However, it didn't seem Jason was in the mood to fight tonight. Though his step wavered and paused for the slightest moment at his name, Jason just kept on walking up the steps, his rigid pace never once hindering after the initial first. Still refusing to look over his shoulder, the wayward bird waved one hand in the air in dismissal, not surrendering to anything but not engaging either. "Don't you worry your pretty little head, dickhead. I was just on my way out."
"You're injured."
"What's it to you?"
"Jason, stop."
There was no reason for him to listen, but Jason paused in his ascent up the stairs anyway. He didn't turn around, wouldn't face the other two Bats and the silent butler as they watched him debate with himself, obviously torn between finding out what the man's predecessor wanted and just leaving. He compromised by asking, "What do you want, Dick? I need to head out."
Alfred scoffed in an obvious 'like bloody hell you need to leave now, you twit' gesture. The simple sound had the edges of Tim's lips twitching upwards in amusement, as Alfred was the only one who would ever dare to make such a casual but disapproving sound to Jason. Everyone else was too afraid it might set him off, trigger something in his brain that told him to attempt to wipe the Bats from existence. When Jason was around, everyone walked on eggshells, all except for Alfred, who was not afraid of what the second bird had become. Was he disappointed? Absolutely. But frightened? Not a chance. Alfred knew the man better than that.
Instead of answering Jason's straightforward question, Dick asked, "Were you…getting medical attention?"
Jason scoffed, and that was about all Dick needed to hear to have his question answered, though it'd been quite obvious anyway. And if Alfred's irritation and bloody hands were anything to go by, Jason had decided that whatever medical attention he'd already gotten would be enough until the man himself or someone hired could finish where Alfred abruptly been stopped. However, there was no doubt in Dick's mind that Jason was probably still bleeding from whatever wound he had, and he was also aware of where Red Hood's territory was. While Dick wasn't particularly fond of his successor, not after Jason had tried to kill him on multiple accounts, that didn't mean he wanted to see the younger man crash his motorcycle because he nodded off from blood loss while driving home.
"Look," Dick called, stopping Jason from getting his ass in gear and leaving while he still had a chance. The image of a flipping motorcycle and a flailing figure wouldn't leave his mind now that he had thought of it, and Dick was sure it would've leave until something was done. "You're already here, Jason. Just let Alfred finish and then leave. Tim and I won't pick any fights, and no one will say anything to Bruce, ok?"
Dick could feel Tim staring at him curiously, probably wondering why he was practically inviting the man to stay, even if it was only going to be a brief visit. But Dick knew Jason better than Tim, and the second bird's fight switch wasn't on right now. It's why Jason had retreated when he had heard the motorcycle enter the cave to begin with; he was no more interested in facing Dick and Tim than Dick and Tim were interested in facing him. The only thing the first Robin had any lingering doubts about was the verbal fighting. After all, benevolence had never been Jason's virtue. In fact, the only who seemed pleased and unconcerned by the invitation was Alfred, who had a small, smug smile on his face. When Jason finally sighed and relented, turning around to walk back down the steps, Dick could see why.
The man was haggard, dark crescents under his eyes and the smallest slouch in his stance. Jason's hair was mess, as it usually was, but it looked more unkempt than usual, streaked with sweat and grime. Jason was dressed up in his standard uniform, his leather jacket zipped up the front to hide whatever was battered underneath. The only thing that remained unchanged was Jason's hard expression. While it was usually tinged with some dark humor no one else understood, today it was irritated and short-tempered, ready to get things over with quickly. This was expressed further when Jason merely muttered, "Fine."
The young man began slowly walking down the steps again, his thick boots thundering off the walls of the silent cave. Dick watched Jason, noticed the other's weary but reluctant stance. Then the man looked at the youngest Robin, taking note of the younger's guarded expression as he tried to hide whatever anxiousness he felt at having his predecessor around him for more than a few minutes. It probably never occurred to Tim that Jason could be docile, not when Jason had only expressed intense anger in his presence. Dick knew it would never have popped in his brain, if he were Timmy.
After nudging the newest Robin, Dick received Tim's attention. The man didn't say a word, only smiled reassuringly. The young boy smiled back nervously, trying to muster up the confidence Dick had in Jason but only succeeding in causing more doubts to appear.
Slowly, the incomplete group of Bats moved to the infirmary, silent except for their footsteps. No one dared to say a word. There were too many chances that it might trigger something in someone, whether it be Jason, Dick, or Tim. That didn't mean nothing was passed between them, though. The visiting, wayward bird glanced at Tim curiously, noticing the limp he sported but said nothing, though the reason why was undetermined. The other two birds glanced at Jason in return, trying to spot whatever injury he had but finding nothing. They didn't ask.
The group entered the infirmary single file. Jason was in the lead after Alfred, simply because the other two boys were hesitant to have the other at their exposed backs, even if Jason was claiming temperance today. It's not that Jason wasn't being abnormally calm around them; he was. None of it was a trick, as far as Dick or Tim could see. It's just… If he wanted to, Jason could find a way to be angry at anything, simply because he didn't know what else to do. And typically, when he was angry, it was taken out on the Bat-Family (and the criminal underworld, but the criminal underworld didn't have to worry about themselves at the moment). If Jason noticed the two's hesitance, he didn't mention it or make a sign to acknowledge it. There was no way he hadn't noticed it, though; he just knew how to hide it well. It could be that he understood their hesitance, but it was more likely that he simply didn't care.
Inside, one cot was already pulled out and prepared, obviously where Jason had been getting his treatment before Dick and Tim showed up. There was a tray nearby, filled with black thread, red gleaming needles, and damp, crimson-stained rags that had been used to sop up the blood, as well as all sorts of disinfectants to keep infections at bay. It wasn't much, but it at least allowed Tim and Dick to know that Jason's wound was probably a gash of some sort. It didn't allow them to know the severity or any other such information, but, well, it was more than they had had before on the subject.
With a sharp word from Alfred, Jason hastily went back to his spot on the edge of the cot while Dick pulled up a chair for Tim so he could wait for his turn. The two were silent as they watched Jason begin shrugging off his beloved leather jacket again, mumbling hissed curses under his breath the entire time, and it was quickly revealed that he had no shirt under it. The padded armor Jason usually wore had been cut away and cast aside in a bloody heap. Dick wanted to sigh at the younger's stupid, rather impulsive actions but didn't. Jason would have- no doubt –snapped at him.
Alfred took his place at the man's back, ready to begin stitching the wound he had been fixing before. Dick eagerly skipped up beside the butler, ignoring Jason's hard blue stare following him all the way. At seeing the wound, Dick whistled, causing Jason to roll his eyes, before the oldest bird commented, "Damn Jason, that's nasty. What the hell did you do?"
The wound- a five-inch gash slashed across Jason's right shoulder-blade -wasn't as nasty as Dick claimed it to be, but the injury certainly looked it. But then, it was only half-stitched up, blood was still leaking slowly, and while the wound wasn't particularly deep, it was jagged. Knowing Jason and the fights he tended to pick, none of it was much of a surprise. There was a reason the man was known as the most reckless Robin the Bat had ever taken in. (However, it was an unspoken rule this was not to be said allowed. Not only did it anger Jason, but something about it also tended to upset Bruce. Jason's anger was understandable, but no one could figure out Bruce's reasoning. The only one who seemed to understand the man's feelings was Alfred, and he refused to say anything about the subject. This, however, was not unusual.)
Jason peeked over his shoulder, glancing dryly at Dick with today's irritation still prominent on his face. The ebony-haired seemed to debate between saying something snappy or telling Dick to fuck off, but in the end, Jason did neither. Instead, the wayward bird stated as bluntly as possible, "Turf battle. Some low-ranked lackey got lucky. I blame it on the lack of sleep this week. It's ok, though; you don't need to worry. I paid him back in full." There was a sick smugness to Jason's tone, and Dick honestly felt awfully sorry for the poor fellow. "The entire week has been tough, though. However, I'm sure all of you Bats are fully aware of this fact."
Ha. Understatement of the year. The Bat-Clan sure knew, as did the whole of Gotham City. After all, it wasn't just Jason's turf that had been acting up that week. Gangs from every part of the city had been unusually rowdy, and the Bat-Family had to start sleeping in shifts so there was always someone patrolling the streets from dusk to dawn, whereas before everyone could usually go home around three-ish to catch some shut eye and not worry about a master-plan unraveling. After all, most villains (most) liked sleep just as much as the heroes, and three A.M. quickly became 'shutting down' time.
However, Jason was more than likely feeling the sudden uproar the hardest. Sure, his designated turf (that was still regularly infiltrated by the rest of the Bats) was only a small portion of Gotham, but Jason had no allies, which meant no backup for tough situations. Even if he did have contacts, it's not like he would use them. When it came down to it, Jason easily beat Bruce when it came to the 'solitary creature' gig. It was sad. Jason had been more of a people person when he was younger.
"You know, I'm sure Bruce wouldn't mind helping out in your area for a few nights to let that cut heal up some." Dick suggested, the twinges of a hesitant smile turning up on his lips. He meant every word, but it sounded weak, even to his own words. Timmy's frown became more pronounced with Dick's simple statement, and though Alfred was probably hoping with all of his might for Jason to take the offer up, the butler only slumped his shoulders.
"Yeah… Sure, dickhead. Whatever you say." Jason replied. His voice was dead with emotion, and he clearly didn't believe a single word of the older man's words. But then, Dick was sure that Jason would never believe the statement no matter who it came from, even if the words were to come from Bruce's mouth. Jason had long since convinced himself that there was no one on the earth that loved him, despite how unfair it was to the people that did. But then, Jason had always been good at crafting lies around him until they weren't lies anymore. Or, at least, they weren't lies to him.
The room became deafeningly quiet, but no one made an attempt to start a conversation. Tim fiddled absently with his thumbs nervously, glancing occasionally at the other males around the room. Alfred was silent and focused as he continued to carefully stitch up Jason's wound. The patient under the butler's careful eye continued to make not a sound as the process drew on, his thoughts lingering in his turf as he pulled up future battle plans to edit and revise. Dick kept his distance as he watched the needle jab through flesh before getting pulled out the other side. Most would find the sight horrifying and disturbing, but it wasn't the first time Dick had been the audience to Alfred's performance, and it certainly would not be the last, either.
The time that passed was short and brief, but it felt unnervingly like a few centuries for the figures residing inside of the infirmary walls. The only sounds came from the occupants' steady breathing and the occasional, distant screeches of the bats in the main section of the massive cavern. Bruce never called in and never showed up, something for which everyone was thankful. No one would be able to keep their earlier promises if the man were to suddenly appear, and none of the Bats were in the mood to be letting each other down, even if they were on the worst of terms.
Jason was fixed up soon enough, and Alfred was shooing him from the cot so Tim could take his place. Jason only held up his hands in surrender to the butler's careful prodding, and then he began the fun task of shrugging his leather jacket over his bare shoulders and chest, despite some of the blood left behind from the quick fix-up job. Dick watched him as he did so and asked, "Do you wanna borrow a shirt or something, Jason? I don't think it's good to be going around without one."
"It's fine. It's not like I plan on going anywhere except for my safe house anyway." Jason replied, refusing to meet the other's eye as his hands fumbled with the zipper for a second. The ebony-haired male finally got the zipper to catch, and he zipped the front up and over his toned chest and broad shoulders.
Dick didn't press the issue, though he knew the leather might not be good on the stitches. After all, he caught the meaning of Jason's denial. After all, borrowing was a temporary thing. Sooner or later, Jason would have to return the borrowed object. Dropping the object off would be ideal, but that risked a confrontation Jason didn't want to go down. Mailing was the next best option, but that meant return addresses, which meant adios secret safe house location. Dick knew Jason was intelligent; he could find a way out of whatever he didn't want to do. However, it didn't seem like the younger man had the energy to come up with an idea that didn't risk something, small as it may be.
Despite his mind screaming for him to do it, Dick didn't mention that Jason could just have the shirt.
(People seemed to have the idea that Dick would do something like this just to get an excuse to see Jason, maybe talk some sense into him. Dick wouldn't, though. He was tired of fighting his successor, and he was tired of seeing how cold Jason's eyes had become. Dick remembered a time when they were the tiniest bit warmer, especially when they hadn't been looking at the boy's predecessor.)
Jason paused in the door-frame as he began wandering from the medical bay. He didn't look back- no, he never looked back, not for anything -but he did say, "Thanks for the patch job, Al. I won't bother any of you Bats again." There was another pause, as if Jason was unsure of what to say, but then, through the din of the quiet, there was a mumbled, "Keep the replacement safe, dickhead."
No one said anything as Jason left the cave, too stunned to think of anything intelligent to say. All was eerily silent, and the sound of the grandfather clock sliding back into place bounced off the walls, making the cavern feel a thousand times bigger and the residents a thousand times smaller. Even after the wayward Bat was gone, the remaining three figures could muster no words, even Alfred, who inspected Tim's ankle silently. It was all rather unnerving, as Alfred usually had the endearing and irritating habit of scolding his patient up, down, and every which way imaginable.
As he had been with Jason, Dick remained the only audience to Alfred's precise and careful work. It was the slightest bit calming to watch the steady hands move with confidence, but unfortunately, Dick could not bring himself to focus completely on Alfred. Part of his attention became centered on Tim's nervous fidgeting, something he'd been doing since they had shown up at the cave. Dick could understand the younger's nervousness when Jason had been around, but Jason was long gone by now. So what was the problem?
Alfred didn't seem to notice. After he was done with his rather thorough investigation, he told Tim to take it easy on his foot. There wasn't really any problem, just the slightest strain, but they didn't want to push anything- not after just recovering from a broken foot. Tim agreed in a subdued manner, something Alfred noticed but didn't comment on.
Dick, tired of the awkwardness hanging in the air and more than curious to Tim's distracted behavior, quickly glided up beside Tim as he slipped off the bed. The older hero smiled reassuringly and rested a hand on the other's shoulder as he said, "Come on, Timmy. Let's get you on up to bed and no working on cases. Bruce wants you to actually get some sleep tonight."
Tim nodded. Dick steered him away, calling a thank you over his shoulder to Alfred and a promise to come help him clean up everything when Timmy was safely tucked away. A strained smile twitched on Alfred's face as he acknowledged the other's call, but that did not take away the wariness of cleaning away all evidence of Jason's sudden visit.
Together, the two Bat-Boys made their way upstairs after ditching their uniforms. They were silent, saying nothing and hiding their footsteps as they wandered through the still Wayne Manor, so not to break the blanket of quiet that surrounded the large mansion. (Or, at least, that's what they told themselves. It was really to listen for another familiar figure either leaving or attacking from behind.)
Within minutes, they were at Tim's room, and Dick watched him from the doorway. It may have been a temporary room, just something Tim could use whenever his father was out of town and he didn't want to go home, but the boy was as familiar with it as if he had been living in it his entire life.
Dick watched Tim work through his nightly routine without thought, his mind elsewhere at the moment. Finally, the original Boy Wonder asked, "So what's the matter, Timmy?"
It's like Dick had been sneaky about his actions. Tim jumped, a small yelp slipping from his throat as he spun around, looking at the wide-eyed Dick with equally as large blue orbs. It was obvious in the way the older was leaning against the door-frame that he had been there sometime- Tim had just failed to notice this fact. The young boy was not pleased with this revelation, but Tim did not linger on the thought of his failure. Instead, he asked, "What was that, Dick?"
Bemusedly, Dick answered, "I asked what was wrong."
Tim scoffed, as if he found it offensive that something could be off. He shook his head and dropped to the edge of his bed, pulling his legs up and into a lotus position. With the slightest bit of an irritated expression overcoming his face, Tim stated, "There's nothing wrong, Dick. Why would you ask?"
Gesturing to the door-frame he was standing in, Dick tried to suppress the smile threatening to possess his face. It was a struggle for sure as he said, "Well, considering I managed to scare you, despite being the one that led you upstairs, is it wrong that I think something is bothering you?" Dick chuckled at the blush exploding on Tim's face and moved a few paces inside the room. "Come on, tell me what's on your mind. It obviously has something to do with Jason."
At the name and the fresh memory of the man in question, Tim frowned deeper and thought about whatever it was some more. Dick watched patiently, tilting his head to the side as he crossed his arms over his chest. Finally, Tim looked up and asked, "You saw his scars too, right?"
Uh, how could Dick have missed them? They were as numerous as his and Bruce's, and there were plenty of them Dick remembered seeing on Jason when he was much, much younger. It seemed his resurrection hadn't erased any of them and had given the younger man plenty of new ones to carry as well. It was a sad statement, but there was nothing to do but accept it.
Dick didn't see why it should bother Tim, though. The new Robin had seen plenty of the white and fleshy lines on the original Robin and his mentor, the big bad Bat. Hell, the kid even had a handful of them himself by now, some of them even caused by the man he was asking about. Dick just could not fathom why Tim was worried about whatever baggage Jason carried when he had enough of his own already.
"Everyone saw Jason's scars, Timmy." Dick stated, raising an eyebrow as he watched Tim's eyebrows bunch up. "Why does it matter? Everyone in this family has them."
The third Robin chewed the inside of his lip. "I don't know. Does it seem like his are more up close and personal, or is it just me?"
And Dick knew exactly what the younger male meant, for they all had their scars that seemed personal, almost sacred. They told stories of being singled out to be manipulated and smashed to bits, only to come back and keep fighting. All Bats- all heroes –had their 'trophies,' but there was always instances where an experience weighed much heavier than the rest, came to mind easier than every other one present. After all, it wasn't like simply getting shot at because you spooked some superstitious criminals. No. One had to be spotlighted and resented.
But Tim had observed correctly. Jason seemed to have more baggage than even Dick had (but not Bruce, never Bruce). The original Robin imagined that they were from being beaten, blown sky high, and incinerated, but it was sad to say that Dick could not say for sure. They hadn't marred Jason's body before the Joker got to him- that was for sure; Dick would remember them if he had –but beyond that point, they didn't really know anything about where Jason had been and what he had been doing. They didn't know when he had risen from the grave, only vague ideas, and they hadn't a clue he had been alive until Jason had started taking Gotham by storm. The man could've received his trophies during any of those unaccounted for years, and until Jason confirmed what they suspected, it was to be expected that they would never find out on their own.
It was upsetting, knowing so little of what drove Jason to do what he believed was right. Maybe that's why they could never get through to him, no matter what they said or did. How could they possibly help when they knew so little of what occurred? Hell, if Dick was being serious, they didn't even really know what had happened in that warehouse in Ethiopia. Oh sure, they understood what went down in the broadest of terms, but it just wasn't the same.
Dick sighed. Looking at Tim, he saw that the younger was honestly distraught over the idea of someone going through so much pain, physical or otherwise. It didn't matter that he knew the details of his predecessor's death already; it didn't matter that Jason had tried to kill him in the past. When it came down to it, Jason might've as well been that man they dealt with the week before, the one that threatened to kill his wife and best friend because he found out they were having an affair. Another tragedy to add to the list.
(But neither the man's nor Jason's actions were justified. Just saying.)
"Look, Tim, most of those were from the Joker." Dick hoped they were, in a sick sort of way. At least then they knew what happened. The original Robin didn't think he could take finding out Jason had gotten caught by another psycho, this time all alone with no one to turn to. "While he certainly is far from getting over it- something that I doubt will ever happen in this lifetime –it doesn't haunt him as much as it would've years ago." Dick hoped, anyway. "Just… Lay down and get some rest. Don't worry about it, ok? Jason's been taking care of himself for a long time. He's better at it than anyone else in this family. This won't stop being true simply because of some personal experiences." It obviously hadn't. Jason was kicking it and going as strong as he had when he had first reappeared.
Tim nodded and did as he was told, lying down and pulling the covers over him. Dick breathed an inaudible sigh of relief at the lack of pestering, for Tim could do so for hours, if in the right mood. The older of the two muttered a goodnight to Tim, receiving a soft one in return, and then Dick left the room, going back to the Cave to do as he had promised Alfred.
Despite Dick telling him not to worry, Tim still did, though he wouldn't really call it worrying. It was more like a concerned pondering (which was worrying, he guessed, but it just didn't really feel the same), and it had the boy up for hours. Against Alfred's better wishes but with promises of taking it easy, Tim was out the next night and rather stupidly running through Jason's territory. He didn't feel like he was in danger, though. Tim could take any crook he came across blindfolded, and he had chose a time that he knew Jason wouldn't be out quite yet.
The newest of the Robins found Jason's apartment easily and saw that his curtains, which were usually drawn shut tightly, were open just the slightest bit. Tim looked right on through and saw the older man, his predecessor, getting ready for battle that he would undoubtedly find sometime during the night. However, he was only half-dressed in his usual cargo pants and steel-toed boots, along with his usual stash of handguns and knives strapped to his person. He hadn't put on his body armor yet or his leather jacket, and Tim guessed that was because he was investigating Alfred's stitch-work in a mirror.
From the look on his face, Tim assumed Jason was trying to measure how much it would hurt when he put his tight-fitting armor on. Tim would've loved to swoop in and suggest that maybe tonight was a good night to stay home, but just because Jason had been docile the night before did not mean he would be as patient tonight. Thus, Tim stayed where he was, simply watching until his time ran out.
Jason seemed to sigh before turning around, reaching for his body armor sitting on the dresser the mirror sat on. He paused before he picked it up, though, his blue eyes locked onto the image of his bare chest reflecting in the glass. Indiscernible emotion flickered in the man's vacant eyes as he reached up to rub the white, fleshy patches spotting his person. His face scrunched up for a moment, as if it hurt, but the scars were years old. Whatever it was that hurt was probably all in Jason's head.
A few minutes later, Jason was slipping his body armor over his head hurriedly, and Tim stood up, wishing for the strength to help.
Alright, so this is a request from my buddy, Fati Sid. This wonderful person asked if I would do my interpretation of Jason and his scars (even though you could do with every hero in existence) and sort of what I thought of them. Sid asked specifically for an autopsy scar, but it is mentioned multiple times throughout Under the Red Hood that they never did one (I assume it was because it was just too hard for Bruce, which is understandable), so I went with the beating ones instead.
Now, this is a weird first chapter. Don't worry; it gets weirder. But the reason it's kind of wacky is because, in my personal opinion, scars are reminders of where people have been. For Jason, his scars are sort of like the road that led him where he currently is. So while I didn't focus on the scars specifically a lot, I did reference a lot to past events, which to me is referencing to the scars, and I'm probably not making a lot of sense right now. Oh well. I tried,
Sid also asked if I could have some sort of bonding between the brothers, but where I put this in the timeline, that would be making them OOC, and this already weird enough as it is. On the bright side, they didn't start screaming at each other..? Anyway, see y'all next chapter (possibly, maybe, probably not)!