First off, I am so very sorry for making you wait this long- I mean three months isn't that long (he he he). So, just putting it forward first, I got lazy, like really lazy, so I put off typing and just went with reading fics, get my mind working and burn some calories. Then, I discovered a wonderful show called Doctor Who, and after finishing all of 11 and the first season lf 10, I am back, baby! Now, off with the authors note, here is the next chapter!
Screaming. Bruce's eyes snap open, reflexes kicking in. He rolls of the bed like a pro, landing in a slight crouch before running forward and pulling the door open, racing down the hallways and stairs to the common room. Bruce slows down, being the first one there, and takes in what he see's, his throat constricting. In a moment, he snaps out of it and rushes to a kneel beside's his son, holding on to his flailing arms by the wrists.
"Jason! Snap out of it!" says Bruce. The screaming had turned to sobs, his eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks down his face. "Shh, it's alright," says Bruce, letting go of a wrist to stroke the boys dark hair. He wanted to hold him, to hug him. Anything to comfort his son. Guilt rises in Bruce. Jason was his son, and Bruce hadn't acted like a father to him in...years.
Jason stops thrashing, instead shivering and curling around where Bruce held him, as if he were scared that it would go away. He looks at his son, seeing that one of the stitches at his son's side had come out, blood beginning to slowly seep from it. "Hey, Jaybird." Says Bruce. He'd heard Dick call him that sometimes, and remembered when he used to when Jason had been Robin. "One of your stitches have come loose. I'm going to pull my hand away, alright? I need to get the supplies, there right over here. It'll be quick."
"D-don't leave me...alone." manages Jason, quietly. Bruce looks at him, worry crossing his face.
"Your not alone, Jason. You never will be. Alfred's here, so is Dick, Tim, and Damian, and myself. I will be with you, no matter what." Jason's eyes were closed, and his breathing was shallow. He wasn't conscious, or maybe he was? Bruce gently lets go of Jason's hand, quickly getting the supplies. He gently gets Jason to uncurl, redoing the stitch that had come off.
"Bruce? What happened?" Says Dick, walking over into the room. His hair was sticking up, but his blue eyes were awake and alert.
"Jason." Dick's eyes widen.
"What happened? Did he wake up? Did he try to run away? Oh god, was that him screaming?" Bruce nods. He turns his head back to Jason, his tear streaked face peaceful once again.
"I don't know what happened, but I think I'll have Tim run some tests when he wakes up. He was crying. He asked me not to let him be alone when I was going to get the supplies. It seemed as if he was awake, but he was asleep."
"You w-wish." Says a quiet voice. Bruce smile's softly. Jason's eyes were open, although not fully from the painkillers in his system. Bruce and Dick gently help him get up, no commentary slipping past the first Robin's lips.
"Do you remember what happened?" Says Bruce.
"Specify." There were three events that Bruce considers. There was whatever fight Jason got into, him outside the manor, and his nightmare.
"What were you dreaming about." Jason's breath catches.
"I don't think it was a dream. I opened it eyes- it was dark, and cold. And I think I was in my coffin; you had left me, alone." Bruce could almost hear the invisible 'again'. At that moment, Alfred comes in with freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies and hit chocolate.
"Here, master Jason. If this may help more than an interrogation." Jason smiles, and then chuckles as Bruce's eye twitches- he had never found out how the butler was so stealthy and silent. The oven was the loudest thing in the house, spare the boys, and Bruce had been nagging the man to let him buy a new one, but the offer was turned down. And in the middle of the night he manages to bake cookies in less than a half hour- one mystery he could never solve.
"Alfred, I think you just made my day." Says Dick, mirth tracing his voice.
"They're MINE!" Snarls a voice.
"Nope- I'm older! I'll get there first!"
"I will chop off your limbs and leave you in a swimming pool." Tim and Damian shove and push until they reach the common room, where their nose's finely tuned to Alfred's sweet delicacies had led them.
"Jason! Your ali- I mean, awake." Says Tim. Jason smiles, although it seems a little bit defeated. He sips the cocoa.
"Yup, and I plan on for next few hours." There was a hidden...something in those words. Brice couldn't exactly identify it.
"Why didn't you come in?" Says Bruce. "Your always welcome, and more than when your bleeding in the cold." Jason looks away, distant. Sad.
"Didn't notice."
"Jason."
"You all looked like you were having a good time.And it was my fault anyway, I didn't want to ruin the perfect little moment you had, another one I didn't come to. I chose to not come, I chose to go after a drug dealing that was actually Joker and Scarecrow. I chose to be worthless, to be reckless, to be such a failure." He stops, taking in a few breaths. "And I chose to stay out there and die." He braces himself.
They all suddenly attack him with words. They mixed together, blending in. He couldn't tell what they were saying, opting to stare blankly instead. He knew they were trying to comfort him, to tell him what he already knew but refused to accept. That he was always welcome, he was their family, their brother, a son, a grandson. He fought the battle with himself everyday. Let himself not be alone ever again, always have someone to guide him, to teach him, to talk to. He wasn't pit mad anymore, he didn't kill...he just wanted to have a family again.
His eyes wet, and the volume suddenly decreases, becoming softer, hands shaking his shoulders. It all seems so...distant. He can see Tim running away to the Cave with a vial of Jasons blood- when had he gotten that? But even more, something was wrong, something was happening to him.
It was all fading, it all became black until he's a little kid again, a red headed kid with freckles. In front of him was his d-, no not his dad. His biological production helper person. He held a belt in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other.
"You' been uh bad boy" says his tormentor. Jason freeze's. It wasn't real it wasn't real. He was at the manor, with Bruce and Alfred and Dick and Tim and Damian. He wasn't here, in Crime Alley, no matter how damn real it felt.
The belt and scream felt real, though.
Hate me later