Jason comes awake all at once, nightmares chasing off any thoughts of lingering in sleep. It still takes him a couple seconds to remember where it is he's woken, but not six feet under is plenty for him right now.
When he shifts his hands out from under his pillow, they tear; scabbed over cuts spilling droplets of fresh blood to mingle with the dried that's sticking his skin to the fabric. Hissing out a curse, he carefully pries his flesh away from the fabric.
This he doesn't remember, beating his fists to mincemeat, but the multiple splinters he'll have to pry out give him a pretty good idea of what he'd beaten them against. Muttering more curses, Jason goes to his attached bathroom, hands held out in front of him to scrounge up a fist aid kit in the medicine cabinet he didn't bother to search when he first got there.
When he shuts the cabinet, he gets his first real look at himself in a while, doesn't like what he sees. The closest comparison he can think of is his father after a couple weeks of not being able to find work and that's fucking perfect, isn't it.
On the plus side, the bruising around his neck is proof he's not just projecting the pain over from his nightmares, so there's that.
He spends the next two hours gingerly picking splinters from his knuckles, almost considers leaving the one's in his left alone, but decides on doing both for symmetries sake. More cuts are torn open, and he watches the blood that runs down his wrists, drops to the ground. Flashes of a nightmare invade his mind, the smell and taste of iron and dust.
His hands ball into fists, the sting pulling him back out of his mind, making him breathe again, and he looks back at the split skin, forces the fingers holding the forceps to stop shaking and digs out another chunk of wood with a little more force than necessary. That much pain should have gotten him out of whatever dissociative episode he'd gotten into, no matter what had put him there it bothers him that it didn't, a lot.
If things keep up the way they are he thinks Talia really is going to have to take his corpse for another swim. He shakes the though off and finishes tying off a bandage. Wonders how much of an abomination he'll be then, seeing as how he's already practically brain dead a lot of the time now.
Was probably brain dead before anyway, to think he could get Bruce to…
Almost immediately, he silences the thought, reaches in his pocket for the cellphone that he hasn't heard go off since he's woken. If it died again and he missed something important he's going to throw the fucking thing in the fireplace.
It's not there.
Not on charge either. Back in the bedroom, he searches through the blankets, under the bed, behind the headboard just in case he dropped it. He hadn't left it in the bathroom, the closet is free of electronics, when he goes to lift the mattress, he finds it's a lot heavier than its softness made him think at first. He drops it and scrapes his bandaged knuckles against the rough fabric, feeling a little more blood seep out.
He lets out another curse, inspects the damn binding to be sure he doesn't have to redo anything. The training room had been one of his shittier ideas for sure.
It's also the last place he remembers being. He also kind of remembers something of the mess he'd made, can see when he gets there that it's been cleaned up already.
Well, most of it. His redecorated dummy is still standing not so proudly amongst its fellows. Looks like he gave up on the bat symbol half way through. Jason runs his hand over the scored neck, whoever cleaned left the knife there, Jason doesn't touch it.
The cellphone isn't here either, he flexes his fingers and glances about again to be sure, his hands aching more deeply now he's seen some of what he's put them through. Anxiety builds when he still can't find it and his eyes flit around frantically, fisting at his shaggy hair.
He 'needs' that cellphone if he's going to have any idea what the hell's going on while he's locked away here, wherever the fuck here is. Without it, he's got nothing to go on.
Talia's voice is reaches his ears, calm with a hint of exasperation, though its plain she's not talking to him. Jason's feet carry him to the sound, through the half of the house he hasn't bothered exploring yet.
The mostly shut door creaks softly when he eases it open a crack wider. It's a study. Talia's sitting behind a desk, talking on the phone as she types away at a laptop. When she notices Jason, she holds up a finger and turns back to her work.
Jason shuts the door and steps out, he's never cared about her business life - better he doesn't know what her assassins are up to - and he's not about to start. He considers leaving to search either the training room or his bedroom again, but he knows, knows that he's looked everywhere he's actually been in the house so far, the parts of the house he remembers at least.
God, what if he went outside with it. His head snaps towards one of the place's many windows and the snowy landscape outside. If he lost it out there, it's gone for good and what the 'fuck' is he going to do then?
"Jason, you needed something?" Talia's standing by the entrance to her office, massaging her temples. "I've too much to tend to for a trip to the town today, but there are delivery services you can make use of."
"No, uh," Jason clears his throat, surprised at how rough his voice sounds. "You know where that cellphone is?"
"I'm afraid not, where last did you have it?" She comes forward, takes the hand that isn't in his pocket in both of hers and turns it over, inspecting his bandaging. "You've seen to the other one as well I trust?" Jason draws his other hand out to show her and she takes it too, tugs a little on ties to test how tight he made them, then lets fo with a curt nod."I'll have to cancel physician," she turns back to the office. "Give me a moment."
"Training room." He calls. "The cellphone. I think I left it in the training room when I was done with the… when I was done."
"I see. If it was in the same state as the rest of the place the maid might have mistaken it for more refuse and thrown it out." She seems unconcerned, but Jason feels as though a pit has opened up in his stomach. "Unfortunately she won't be back until the week's end. It's for the best; there are things more deserving of your focus now."
"What?" He takes a step away from her, feels a wall at his back. "Talia I need that fucking cellphone, I, fuck, I need to know how much longer he's gonna be on that fucking cruise." His eyes fall on the computer behind her and he slips into the room before she can block his path, leans over the desk to pull the computer over to him. There's a single blinking line on the otherwise blank screen, it needs a password.
"Why?" She asks, her tone dangerous, eyes narrowed, and Jason knows he won't get any help from her in finding the phone.
Jason blinks up at her, his mouth opened for words that should be there but he just doesn't have. She stays where she is, unmoving until he can come up with 'something' to say. "The fuck does it matter why? I need to know."
"You 'need' to find healthier interests, and refrain from using such vulgar language in my presence." She reaches over him and turns the computer back the way it was before. "I am not one of the common street thugs you associated with in Gotham."
"And I'm not a fucking child!" Jason snarls at her, draws up to his full height. "It's not enough I'm stuck here, now I gotta deal with you turning control freak on me? Where do you get off questioning my fucking interests? You didn't give a damn about how healthy it was when I asked you to send me to all those fucking psychopaths."
"And it's not plain now how great an error in judgment that was?" She gets back in her seat, pulls a folder out of a drawer like she doesn't see him flinch. "You wish not to be treated as a child then stop behaving as one, you know you've never reacted well to news of that city."
"You…" Jason growls down at her, his hands balled into fists at his side, splitting the scabbing yet again. It's doesn't get more than a dismissive glance from Talia. "You can't keep me locked up here like some Rapunzel hermit... thing. I gotta know what's going on out there."
"You're not my prisoner, you're free to go to the town and procure yourself a means to access the internet but I will play no part in your self-destructive behavior this time. You remember how to reach it. She's dialing a number on the landline at her elbow already.
"Fine." Jason storms out of her study, pauses at the window overlooking the icy terrain.
"Be back by nightfall and make sure to dress appropriately, I'd rather you didn't get frostbite." She brushes some hair behind her ear. "Procuring a surgeon would cause us undue trouble."
If Jason had still been within sight of her he would have flipped her off on his way out.
He does stop by his room to throw on a few extra layers of clothing though, disregarding his raged appearance in the mirror mounted to the closet door.
O
O
O
One look at the approaching clouds and Jason's glad he isn't wearing just those flimsy pajamas. She just had to bring him somewhere that's covered in snow, didn't she? He watches his breath puff out ahead of him every time he exhales as he makes his way down the hill, through the trees, towards the buildings he can barely make out in the distance.
The incline is sharper than it looked from the car, and keeping his footing is tricky once he's left the more level grounds surrounding the house, he takes a second to wish he'd spent a little time checking for snowshoes before he'd left the house. Crossing over the frozen lake instead is tempting, but not enough that he gives it serious thought.
He's not a masochist and death by downing in icy water is not the way he wants to go, Talia'd just find him anyway, probably has someone watching him already.
The house is still visible if he tilts his head, and Jason feels anger flooding his chest, chasing off the chills. She's been off since this thing started, and he doesn't know why, and he hates that, hates that he can't understand why.
"How great an error of judgment that was." Jason mutters to himself, kicks a branch out of his path, watches it skid down the slope, leaving a shallow imprint in the snow. What the fuck was that even supposed to mean.
He'd done well in his training, well enough that he'd gotten rid of those scumbags with the skills 'they' had taught him. There was nothing he hadn't been able to master, amongst all the disciplines he'd gone through, nothing he'd come close to failing. As much as he'd hated them, she'd gotten him some damn good teachers.
Something flitters across his vision, something dark and fleeting. Just the people he already guessed are following him, nothing for him to worry about, right. He still picks up his walking speed. The sky's getting darker; he'll have to hurry if he doesn't want to trudge back up the hill in a snowstorm.
Something rustles and his eyes go to the trees, project shapes that disappear as soon as he tries to focus on them. He tries to shrug it off, to keep going, but the less attention he pays to the shapes, the more solid they appear.
By the time he's halfway reached the town he's walking at a snail's pace, neck craned back and eyes fixed on the branches of the trees above him. He's not sure how long he's been walking, but the clouds have been darkening steadily the whole time and it's making the shadows between the branches even more solid.
Just about every bough of leaves takes on the shape of a cape. Gaps between the leaves, highlighted by snow, could almost be the lenses of a cowl.
Jason's feet slow still more, and he thinks.
If Bruce wants him gone enough to break his oh so precious no-kill rule once, will he do it again if he ever finds Jason alive?
A branch drops from a tree a few feet ahead of him and Jason recoils. Slips on a patch of ice, his bad hand is still in his pocket, and the other shoot out to stop his fall, he catches himself, but his form is all off and he catches himself 'wrong' lands with all his weight on the wrist and he swears he hears something 'click' when his ass hits the snow.
Almost numb from the cold before, pain rushes from the wrist all up his right arm. He bites down hard on his bottom lip to stiffle a shout, clutches the arm to his chest instinctively.
Before it's even registered, he's laughing, despite the pain and the cold and how fucking 'tired' he is. Or maybe because of it.
All of that training hadn't meant shit, had it? Every single one of those teachers he's been so proud of mastering woulda beaten him black and blue for a slip up like this. Ha, slip up. And he's laughing even harder. Well, all but one, but that was the one who'd slit him open and left him to bleed out on the filthy floor of a condemned building. Had dragged his murderer to safety while Jason choked on his own blood.
And that was the best kind of irony wasn't it? He'd gotten cocky, thought he could do the impossible, like he always did, and he'd paid for it. Thought he could do the impossible when he couldn't even set that fucking clown on fire when he'd had it chained at his feet. Bruce Wayne wasn't a dumbass mercenary Jason could outsmart, or a two-bit thug he could intimidate into doing what he wanted. He wasn't as indulgent as Talia had once been.
Bruce Wayne was never going to bow the whims of a crimelord in 'his' city, was never going to bow to the whims of 'anybody' never had.
Jason had practically slit his own throat in his stupidity, and now here he is, crying about it in the snow like a fucking child. He draws his knees up to his chest to conserve warmth as the wind picks up, wraps the arm he hates around them, keeps the one he's hurt close to his chest.
There's no point in trudging down to the town and getting a new cellphone. Even if he knows when Bruce is back on solid ground – if he'd left at all – it's not like there's anything he can do to prepare for it.
If the Batman comes after Jason, it won't be for anything good. No matter how many knives Jason throws at a wooden training dummy wishing they'd switch their directories, or how many of Jason's once good memories are twisted by nightmares, that won't change.
Batman doesn't make mistakes, so he can't feel regret for them. If he ever finds out Jason's alive, finds out where Talia's hiding him, and he wants Jason dead, Jason will die, and there's nothing he can do about it when he can't even make himself get out of the snow.
And Batman will find out, because he doesn't miss things like this, he probably knows already. Since when does Batman go on cruises, take a trio of kids along with him? He's already started looking, and he always finds whatever he looks for.
Indestructible, unbeatable, unstoppable.
It had amazed a younger Jason, made him feel safe and untouchable, honored even to be allowed to stand at his side. Now it just reminds Jason how hopeless the whole screwed up situation is. How useless and pathetic 'he' is right now.
Its been snowing for a while when a car pulls up, the headlights highlighting the flakes swirling around its tires. The horn honks twice, and Jason swallows, uncurls his stiff form to stand and shuffle over to it.
He doesn't ask how she knew exactly where he was, how she could see him on the side of the road. The passenger side door opens as he approaches and Jason doesn't have words for how welcome the heat that hits his face is when he climbs in.
Talia doesn't say a word, just turns the heat up and tilts the vents towards Jason so he can hold his swollen wrist up to the warmth. He figures he's put enough ice on the thing for now.
"Tripped down the slope." Jason gives the explanation she doesn't ask for, the warmth already making him drowsy. "Slippery ."
"The storm arrived earlier than predicted." Talia takes a few moments to look him over, reaches out one hand and brushes the snow out of his hair. He hunkers down into his clothes, now soaked through and tries to absorb more heat through the seat by pressing himself into it as she puts the car out of park and they start moving.
"Thanks for picking me up." He mutters.
Her eyes stay fixed on the road ahead, narrowed to make out the road past the falling snow ahead. "This road is too dangerous to travel on foot now."
As soon as they get back to the house, she sends him to shower and change for maybe the first time since they've been there. Settles him in the massive living room sofa instead of his bedroom, right in front of the fire with more blankets than he can count and a cup of iced-tea that's too sweet to not be concealing something else while she wraps his wrist. He doesn't care 'what' she put in the tea. It takes away the pain, and lets him appreciate the warmth of the fire more, makes his eyes droop in a comfortable way for once.
Talia catches him when he slides to the side, lays him down gently on the bench, and he doesn't struggle, doesn't think about the 'why' when blankets are pulled up to his chin and a hand combs though his hair.
Jason's last though before he falls asleep is, if Bruce wants him dead so badly, what's he going to do to the one responsible for undoing it. When Bruce finds Jason, what happens to Talia?
O
O
O
That night in his dreams, Jason's not the one choking up blood anymore.