Jason walked around the Bat Cave, trying to get use to distributing his weight on his prosthetic leg. It had been months since the accident and his burns were just starting to look like pink baby skin. The doctors had been amazed at his recovery, even the fact that he had survived. He was luckier than that though, for his memories of that night were nonexistent, just the feeling of pain and a sense of fire everywhere. The therapy had been the worst, there were days that he just felt that he should have died.
He did not give in to these thoughts as he became more and more coordinated. He still used a crutch though, when he was not with his doctors or walking with Nightwing. That was probably the only plus side he could see about this situation. Dick had returned home and spent most days helping the younger teen with his rehabilitation. Bruce was distant, Jason knew he blamed himself. Jason wondered how Bruce was able to deal with this; Jason and Barbara were both crippled and the Joker laid in a coma at Arkham, no one knew if he would ever wake up. Jason, even with his lack of memory, was glad, in some deep dark place of his heart of hearts, for the psycho could no longer hurt anyone again.
This was the first night that Bruce had allowed him in the Cave, the first night that both he and Dick had left the manor in the six months since the explosion. Their animosity to each was ever present, but seemed to subside when they were with the fallen Robin. There seemed, to Jason, a line drawn in the sand between the two. Except for a fist fight that he only knew about because Alfred had told him, Jason rarely saw the two communicate beyond their now shared job of protecting Gotham.
Jason walked over to a case he was sure was never in the spot by the Bat Computer, a case he saw contained one of his undamaged costumes, outfitted to stand at his height. Looking into the glass, Jason saw his reflection, and stared.
He looked the same, save for the now prominent scar that was his left cheek. A mottled mess of scar tissues that bunched up right below his cheek bone. His eyes were the same dulled green that he saw every morning since he could remember, now with his right brow permanently marred with a deep scar in the center. His smile was a bit crooked, a healed cut making him look lopsided and childish. The new pink tissue at his neck that made him look like this ancient doll that lived in the library of the Manor. The long sleeves of his shirt covered similar scars on his arms and chest.
This was not what bothered Jason though with his new appearance. Scars faded and changed, but his leg was gone forever. Even with the sweatpants he wore, he could see the difference of his real leg and the fake one. The one that told him this was all over, that he would never wear this costume again.
Never feel the wind in his hair as he and Bruce raced across roofs, never train with Dick on the rare occasion he stopped by. Never kick someone, never do flips to try and impress the older Robin. Never play basketball with Bruce. Never run across the lawn when Alfred decided that he needed a break from his studies and swore that there was some creature in his gardens.
He shook his head, remember what the doctors told him. That everything would be close to normal soon.
Screaming, he punched the glass which remained the same as Jason felt himself falling back because he had dropped his crutch and became unbalanced. He landed in a clatter in the silent cave and just continued screaming, trying to pull off the contrapation on the stump that was the remaining part of his right leg. The skin was still fragile and he was just now able to wear it throughout the day. The frantic movements he made as he tried to get it off tore the baby pink skin and he screamed more, throwing the now useless contraption at the glass, satisfied to see a crack form. Even if it was just a small hairline crack. Nothing should be whole, not if he was not.
Nightwing pulled into the Cave, letting out a breath he did not know he was holding. Bruce was still out on patrol, he seemed to be doing more and more of that lately. It probably had to do with that look he had anytime he saw Jason. A mixture of guilt, sadness, and surprisingly hope. Jason was making leaps and bounds with his doctors, and Dick could not have been more worried.
The boy was strong, no one could deny that. But what he saw whenever Jason did not think anyone was looking was defeat, like he thought he could only get so far and then nothing more would come to him. It was Dick's idea to keep Jason from the Cave, not only because of the obvious dangerous reasons, but because he did not want Jason to even think about what he possibly could not do.
His fears were somewhat confirmed when he saw Jason on the ground, leaning against the computer with blood coming from the stump that ended right over where his right knee should have been. The boy looked like he had been crying, and his hair was messed up like he had held on to clumps in rage. Nothing did more to Dick's heart though that the look one Jason's face.
He was completely zoned out, something the doctors said could happen with amnesia patients. Sometimes it meant nothing, just the brain realizing something was lose and trying to find it. Other times, though and this was what Jason feared, it could mean the return of memories. And for Jason that would mean the return of pain and agony.
Approaching the other boy slowly, Dick lowered himself to sit by Jason after grabbing his discarded prosthetic. Knowing the last thing that Jason probably needed was physical contact, Dick leaned against the computer desk and started to speak. "Where are you Jay?"
This had become a thing between the two when Jason zoned out like this. Dick wondered what the others did for this situation, but communication was fragile at best right now, even with Alfred. It seemed to work, as Jason shook himself and looked at Dick. "When did you get here."
"Just now." Dick responded with a soft smile. "Did you sit here the whole time?"
Jason shook his head, looking at the glass container surrounding his old costume. "I looked around and got tired." Jason did not want to admit his break down, though he knew Dick would know better. Dick always knew.
"Well, lets get you back upstairs." Dick said with a smile, "Its late and you have Gale coming in the morning for therapy." Dick wagged his brow suggestively, making Jason laugh as he was scooped up by the acrobat. Dick tried not to think about how light his foster brother had become.