LIFELINES
CHAPTER SIX
-two weeks later-
Jason climbed the stairs to Richard's apartment, carrying a large shopping bag full of groceries in one hand and searching for his keys with the other.
Dick had handed him said keys wordlessly last week, after Jason had to climb through the kitchen window again to pick up his passed out brother from the bathroom tiles. The stronger medication brought a stronger reaction of Dick's body along with it, which resulted in fun episodes such as 'How to Pass Out in the Bathroom' or 'Three Ways to Puke Your Guts Out', but most of all in postponements, prolongations or reductions of Richard's hospital visits. All in all, their terms of agreement about picking Dick up after chemo didn't work out. Jason had offered to come earlier, to pick Dick up and stay during chemo sessions. Dick had been truly relieved, and some unknown, warm feeling in his chest had told Jason that it was the right thing to do.
Today, he had dropped Dick off at the hospital and excused himself, stating he had something important to do. Half an hour later he had been standing in the queue in front of the supermarket checkout counter when his brother had texted him. The message was a short one, telling him that chemo was postponed and Dick was on his way home.
Probably with a cab, Jason thought, and felt the kind of perturbation he had discovered he was capable of since learning about Dick's condition.
Surprisingly, keeping an eye on his brother wasn't half as nerve-wracking as he had thought it would be. Indeed, without Nightwing's arrogant behaviour and cockiness, Dick was actually a very facile person. It had been quite an epiphany for Jason, who only then had realized that they never before had spent time together as Dick and Jay. It had always been Nightwing and Red Hood, or Nightwing and Robin, with hard-wired issues of steady moral codes or jealousy between them. But with Dick too exhausted to care about much and Jason with his newfound sympathy, they got along better than ever.
What he could have very well done without, on the other hand, was all the additional emotional stuff that came with liking someone, like worry. He was quite capable of keeping it at bay most of the time, but it made its steady appearances...While he was waiting in line in a supermarket, for example. Why had they postponed the chemo again? Postponed to when? Why hadn't Dick called him to pick him up?
Now, he was fiddling with the keys to Dick's apartment and hoped his brother wasn't there yet. He really didn't need the embarrassment of him finding out that Jason had been shopping for groceries for him. He still had a reputation to maintain, after all.
The shoes behind the door told him this wasn't his lucky day. So he put down the bag, went searching for Richard and found him wrapped in a ridiculous amount of blankets on the living room sofa.
"Hi Jay..." a weak voice piped up from somewhere under the pile.
"What's up? Or better, what's wrong?" Jason asked casually as he made his way over.
The blanket mountain moved, and a very pale and nauseous looking Richard became visible.
"Chemo is postponed until tomorrow."
"Why?"
"Apparently, my blood pressure is too low today." There was an edge of annoyance in Dick's voice, as if he didn't believe the nurses and doctors.
Jason became suspicious. Dick had said he felt fine when he drove him to the hospital, but Jason had learned very early during their make-shift deal that "I'm fine" held many shades in his brother's vernacular.
"You do look sick," he argued therefore, and didn't miss but ignored Richard's batglare as he reached out and grabbed his wrist. "... and your pulse is pretty weak."
"I have cancer, what did you expect? A picture of health?" Dick snapped back and snatched his wrist away so he could cross his arms and sulk properly.
Jason would have been pissed under normal circumstances, but that clear display of symptoms right in front of him triggered Daddy's medical training.
"When was the last time you ate?" he asked firmly, a hypothesis already in the back of his mind.
Dick closed his eyes and shuddered slightly. "Don't make me think about it."
"I'm serious."
"Me too."
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Dick!"
"What does it matter? It didn't stay down for long anyway."
Jason sighed theatrically and shook his head. Hypothesis affirmed. "Goldie, you have low blood pressure thanks to low blood sugar." Dick sneered. "That's also why you feel sick and behave as if you had PMS."
"I don't –"
"Wait a second," Jason disrupted Richard's protest and walked out of the room, rummaged in the grocery bag, fished something out of it and went back to his still sulking brother.
"Drink this," he said and pushed the carton into Richard's hands.
"What's that?" His brother asked while opening the lid.
"Chocolate milk," Jason felt a blush creeping over his face when Dick looked up at him surprised.
"Where did you even get tha... have you been shopping for me? Aww, Jay, that's really sw – mmph!"
"Drink. This." Jason repeated in a low voice and emphasized it by shoving the carton into Dick's face. Florence Nightingale wouldn't approve, but the idiot did what he was supposed to do.
They were silent for a little while, Dick taking small sips, and Jason watching how some colour returned to his face. Then he sighed, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall.
"Dick, this isn't working out."
Richard raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"You need help. Living alone is just not an option anymore."
"It works just fine." Dick obviously didn't want to talk about it, but now that Jason had started, there was no turning back.
"I can't be here 24/7."
"Don't worry, Jay. You're a pretty good nurse."
"That's not it." Jason was already losing his patience. He understood that Richard wanted to save his independence for as long as possible, but –hell, he was probably the last person to lecture him about it– he needed to talk with Bruce. There was a fine line between reason and stupidity, and Dick was taking the wrong track.
"Then what is it?"
"How long do you think you will be able to hold up? You can barely manage to walk to the bathroom when I'm not around!"
Richard's face began to cloud, a growl audible.
"You need to make up with Bruce." Jason said finally. They had avoided everything concerning Bruce, Batman or Gotham so far for both of their sakes. Jason had been sure that Bruce would get a grip on himself soon and would finally show up – his absence in this mess was inexcusable and made Jason's beliefs about their relationship seriously obsolete; but even more astonishing was Dick's stubbornness and utter refusal to give in. Like now.
Dick sneered. "Hn, look who's talking."
So they were going down that path. Jason had seen it coming; it had only been a matter of time. Still, he tried to remain the voice of reason, a position he was really not well acquainted with.
"Look," he tried with a daring shot into the dark, "I know Bruce is a stubborn bastard. I know how hard it is to get him to actually behave like a human being. But this show you're pulling here.." Jason made a gesture that indicated the whole situation, "it's not working. This is not the way to get his attention."
Dick laughed dismissively, venom dripping from his voice. "That's rich coming from the guy who's killing people because Daddy won't hug him."
In a few seconds, Jason was right in Dick's face, hand gripping the fabric of his brother's shirt and so close to losing control.
"Say that again, Boy Wonder." he growled in his best Batman imitation.
Dick wasn't impressed at all. He just looked up at Jason calmly, no expression whatsoever on his face. "I said, that's rich co–"
Jason's grip hardened; he was on the verge of doing something very, very stupid, like hitting his sick and defenseless, but utterly deserving, brother. "Now don't you dare act as if you have any idea about me and Bruce," he gritted out between clenched teeth.
"Oh, and you have any idea about Bruce?" The figure under his grip chuckled, Nightwing-like, almost as if he wanted to push Jason over the edge. How easy it was to fall back into the old roles...
"I know enough to see behind this sanctimonious, embarrassing act you're trying to hold up here." Jason pulled Dick closer to his face, only inches away now. "Isn't this quarrel with him the perfect excuse to stall for time with your precious little brothers?"
It had truly been nothing but a stab in the dark, but the way Richard flinched and then narrowed his eyes told him that he had hit the bullseye. A sly smile spread over his face and he pushed his brother back into the pillows.
"Isn't that right?" Jason was in full swing now, "you're not telling them because you can't stand to disappoint them. You don't want them to see their oh-so-glorious big brother as human and weak as everybody else. You know what, Goldie? You're not all that."
"Says the boy who still dyes his hair to look like me."
And that just went one step too far. It made Jason topple right over the edge into all those memories and beliefs he thought he had gotten rid of by now. He spat the next sentence out without realizing what he said, a defense- mechanism he had needed during his street life and never quite managed to drop.
"Well, then go on and lie to them, if you are so keen on dying alone."
It was a low blow, one Jason was sorry for the minute it had slipped past his lips. If he hurt Richard with it, it didn't show. Instead, his brother turned to rearrange his blankets and pillows, shot him a dirty look, and gave him a taste of his own medicine: "That's the first time today you actually know what you're talking about."
There were only two ways of dealing with something like that, and since Jason didn't want to give Oracle the satisfaction, he just pivoted on his heels and left.
Later that night, in full Nightwing gear and on the top of Blüdhaven's highest building, Jason Todd felt miserable.
He had stopped the drug dealers for tonight already a few hours ago, had beaten up pretty much every other petty criminal he could find even though it wasn't part of their deal and was incredibly boring, but Jason just didn't want to return to Dick's apartment. He needed to apologize when he returned; he had gone too far this time. Richard too, no question about that, but he actually could call his illness, his treatment and his blood sugar level to his defense, while Jason could only blame his short temper.
What bothered him even more than their battle was how easily Dick had seemed to push his buttons. He had started the argument with absolute certainty about the truth and logic of his concern, and with only a few sentences Dick had melted it all away and pushed him over the edge. Dick had stirred feelings he had believed to have been buried or overcome years ago, and turned the whole thing into an embarrassing quarrel between two kids who were trying to find out who was Daddy's favourite.
Even more disconcerting, though, was the question of why he had never done it before. Sure, he and Nightwing had always argued, insulted and pushed each other, but never like this. Never before had Richard shot so low as to use his death experience to shut him up...
Jason was pulled out of his musings when a dark, sinister shadow suddenly loomed over him. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see him landing without making even the slightest noise, draw himself up to his full, very impressive height, and finally turn around towards him.
His night had just taken a turn for the worse, showing him completely new dimensions of the term 'fucked-up'.
"Nightwing," a cold voice called him. This would be good.
Jason turned around to face Batman, only partially prepared for all the feelings that rose in his chest as soon as he set eyes on his former mentor. Batman's expression was like a statue's, cold and void of all emotions. While everyone else would believe it to be the usual Batman-face, Jason knew the man well enough to recognize the different shades of Bruce's bad moods. This one promised a lot of trouble.
"What are you doing here?" Batman asked Jason, who had failed to explain himself right away. It might have been posed as a question, but it really was an order. Full status report, now.
Jason gestured towards the red bird in front of his suit. "Playing Nightwing, obviously."
Batman growled, and Jason realized with a start that this could be the biggest 'fuck you' he would ever be able to throw into Bruce's face. Everything he said or did now would be said and done under the shadow of the fact that Richard had asked him for help, not Bruce.
"Why?" Batman became anxious, enraged.
"Because he asked me to." Jason enjoyed the few seconds in which Batman's face lost some of its sternness, during which he tried to puzzle out Jason's answer, find some missing piece, a clue or whatever would indicate a lie.
There was none, because what he had said was perfectly true. Jason had never before held so much power over Bruce as in this moment. And he loved it.
"What game are you playing, Jason? Why would you do this for him?"
It was actually an excellent question, one that Jason himself hadn't been able to answer properly so far, but he was more distracted by the way Bruce had pronounced the 'you', as if he was nothing more than some dirty, negligible rat in the gutters.
"He asked me to help him," he answered therefore, emphasizing each word. "He's sick, in case you've forgotten."
Batman reacted at once: muscles tensed, jaw clenched, fingers flexing over his utility belt. Jason shifted into a fighting stance smugly. It really was too easy sometimes...
"Don't push me..." Batman warned, pressing the words out.
"Oh, no offense," Jason said in fake surprise, "I just thought, judging from your absence during the last weeks, maybe you had more important things on your mind."
Batman's scowl only darkened. "Like what?"
Jason abandoned his fighting stance -this was just too good- and took a mocking position, one arm stemmed against his hip, the other hand tipping at his chin in false cluelessness. "Hmm, let me think for a minute.. what could be more important to you than your son... maybe Gotham?"
He had expected an attack, fast and violent, but nothing happened. Bruce stared at him wordlessly for a few second, then straightened his shoulders and turned around.
Jason stared at his back. What the fuck...? Had he just.. won against the Dark Knight? Batman was making his way towards the other side of the building, grappling hook already in hand, and Jason fought the urge to call him back and hit him with a brick repeatedly. He hadn't even asked about Dick, for God's sake!
"Are you sure that's all I should tell Dick about your visit?" he called at last, and it indeed made Batman stop. He turned ever so slightly.
"He doesn't want me there."
The voice wasn't Batman's, Jason noticed, startled. This was Bruce talking– finally. Maybe now he would be able to hammer some sense into his thick skull.
"He doesn't want Batman there," Jason said carefully. He really didn't know how he could make it more obvious. Maybe a sign with flashing neon light bulbs...?
The black figure in front of him hadn't responded, but Jason thought he heard a sigh. Neither of them spoke or moved for a while.
"...How is he?" Bruce asked, at last.
Jason sneered, but was actually more than relieved. Maybe one of those two boneheads was ready to listen to him. "Why don't you see for yourself?" he asked therefore, "he's at the hospital tomorrow, 3 p.m."
He saw how Batman turned around and opened his mouth, but dove from the building before he could hear anything.
Damn, it felt good to dismiss him for once.
Jason had been too distracted by the new developments to notice that Richard was still lying on the living room couch as he peeled of his Nightwing mask.
"Jason? Everything alright?"
He wheeled around to face the source of the voice and realized that Dick was there, awake, and had probably waited for him to return. Their argument from earlier came back to his mind. He should apologize and had already taken a step towards his brother, when he found out that he was completely unable to bring the words past his lips. He wished that he had left the mask on for a while longer; hiding behind one always gave him more courage.
The words he was thinking about reached his ears suddenly, destroying the silence between them.
"I'm sorry," Dick said plainly, in a firm voice, and when Jason looked at him clearly surprised, he shrugged his shoulders and went on. "I had no right to say those things to you."
Why was it so easy for that bastard to say that? Jason had needed hours to only admit to himself that he felt what he felt.
"Yeah... me neither," he said lamely, still trying to remember the words he had practiced before Bruce had shown up and toppled even the last bit of balance he had been able to hold onto. Bruce... should he tell Dick about him?
"You were right, you know?" Dick went on talking, pulling Jason away from his thoughts about their surrogate father. "About everything. My living conditions. About Tim and Damian... I worry about them."
"Why?" Jason asked quietly and sat down beside Dick, taking in a big, yellowish bruise on his brother's right forearm that surely hadn't been there the last time he'd seen him.
Dick misunderstood the question. "There will be nobody to help them cope with.. this." He made an uncertain gesture that implied the whole situation. Jason snatched the moving arm in midair and pulled it towards him, to examine it closely.
"No," he started. "I mean, why have you changed your mind? Did that by any chance coincide with this?" 'This'meant the very ugly, very nasty looking bruise. Dick was laughing nervously now. Busted.
"Oh, that's nothing. I just kinda.. tripped while you were gone."
Jason sighed. Tripped, sure. "So you gained new insights while conversing with the floor?"
"It was the tub. But, yeah, totally," Richard smiled and pulled his arm back, "the next recuperation phase begins Friday. I'll ask Bruce if I may visit them during that week."
Jason nodded in approval. "I'm sure he will be more than happy to bring his Golden Boy back home."
Richard didn't answer to that, and Jason worried if it had sounded too harsh. But then his brother sighed deeply, pulled his knees up and rested his head against the back of the couch.
"Jay?" he asked, more cautious than Jason felt comfortable with. "Can I ask you something? About Bruce?"
Here it comes. Jason nodded apprehensively, his discomfort plainly visible.
"This picture that you have about me and Bruce and our great relationship... where did you get that from?"
The question was not what Jason had expected, absolutely not. He stared at Dick confused and didn't know what to say. How he got the idea about their father/son bond? Wasn't that obvious?
…
… ...
No, it was not, it suddenly dawned on Jason. They never were close during his Robin days, rarely working together if anything. Dick had been busy at Titan's Tower, only visiting sporadically after Alfred insisted. Those visits had either been filled with arguments and screaming matches between Dick and Bruce, or with silent dinners during which no one dared to say anything. Jason had still been jealous, jealous as hell; but now that he thought of it, it had never been of their relationship, but of Dick in general, his abilities, how he was loved by everyone.
Then he died, and when he came back..
"Joker..." Jason said finally, voice hoarse and low, "if it had been you, he would have killed him." And that was true, great relationship or not. Jason just knew it, deep down.
Dick looked at him sadly. He had expected that answer. "Why do you think that? Because you believe that he loves me more than he loves you?"
Jason sneered. He didn't want to discuss this now, or ever. Where was the point in it, anyway? He looked away sternly, refusing to answer Dick's rhetorical questions.
His brother shook his head again, sadly. "It's not true, Jay. I wish I could make you see it."
-the next day-
Bruce stepped into the ambulant treatment unit during one of Jason and Dick's fundamental arguments about life and stuff. They didn't notice his entrance, a treatment Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises and most famous billionaire, was not used to.
"...and I'm telling you, it's the name of a cartoon character!"
"Are you even listening? The cartoon character was named after Dickens' character."
"I'm sure Dickens never wrote a book about a greedy goose."
"Of course he didn't! ...And it's a duck."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's called 'Ducktales'!"
"Charles Dickens wrote a book called 'Ducktales'?"
Richard facepalmed with the hand that wasn't connected to the IV pole and fell back into his propped up pillow. "Oh God, please tell me that the drugs are working and I'm imagining this conversation."
"And that would be better?" Jason crossed his arms, offended and only then, since he had to avert his face to fake-sulk convincingly, did he finally notice the man standing a few metres away.
"Hello Jason, Dick." Bruce said uncertainly, watching how the eyes of both of his sons widened. How much of the displayed surprise was true on Jason's face he didn't know, but there was no doubt about it on Dick's part, and that stung quite a bit.
He took a few precarious steps towards them but halted when he saw how his eldest lost several shades of colour, turned a sickly green and leaned forward. Jason reacted in an instant, fishing a bucket out of nowhere and shoving it professionally into Richard's arms just as he started to throw up.
Bruce stared at the scene and didn't know what to do or say. Mercifully, Jason leaned back in his chair and beckoned him over.
"Don't take it personally, that's how he greets everyone."
Bruce found his confidence after a few confused seconds and made his way over to the bed, to sit beside his far-too-pale son. Under Jason's curious gaze, he started to awkwardly pat Richard's back, but continued to stroke it reassuringly when the retching went on and the trembling worsened.
When the retching had finally stopped and Dick was left panting heavily, Bruce carefully slipped one arm under his son and pulled him up. Richard didn't resist and just slumped against the broad chest.
Afraid to ruin the situation, Jason reached out to take the swaying bucket away and motioned to Bruce to grab the glass of water within his reach. Jason, Bruce realized, would have to save his ass a few times in the near future.
He handed the water to Richard, trying to ignore how much his eldest's hands were shaking or how thin he had become under the fabric of his clothes, and tried to verbalize all that was going through his mind.
"Dick, listen... uh, I know... I wasn't exactly..."
"...stuff it," Dick interrupted between sips and just leaned back against him, eyes closed and breathing slowly. Bruce wrapped an arm around his shoulders protectively.
The ensuing silence was a comfortable one, until Jason decided to end it. He pulled out the crossword puzzle that had caused havoc earlier, and began to read.
"'Last head of state of the USSR', 9 letters."
"Gorbachev," Dick answered with a faint voice.
"Oh come on, you're doing this shit on purpose, Dick!" Jason argued in a beat. "That's a brand of vodka, obviously."
Bruce couldn't help but laugh, while Richard only groaned and hid his face in his hands.
-tbc-
Men with low blood sugar totally behave as if they had PMS. During my paramedic days, we sometimes went so far as to offer them a tampon^^ (only one accepted)
This chapter is the longest so far. I had planned to post it as two seperate chaps, but I realized that I couldn't do the cut. And since we actually hit the 100-review- mark, think of it as reward ;)
And now, I'm very glad to finally announce: Next up: Tim and Damian!
