AN: Title from Breaking Benjamin's 'Torn in Two' which is basically Antoine's theme song. He's a pretty well-adjusted sort, but right now he's tired and he's stressed. Post Laughing Batman incident, Happy Timeline version.
Sam was a good patient. He stayed in bed-or sometimes the couch, so he could watch TV-and took his medicine when he was supposed to and was generally a cooperative boy.
The boss is...Mark's dubbed him a Patient From Hell, but Frank's a generous sort by nature and...it's just...he could word it a little better, but...well...
Mark isn't wrong.
Jason has attempted to get up about five times, succeeded twice, argued about the painkillers and lost, and is generally only alive because he's a spiteful, stubborn bastard. Frank expects nothing less; anyone who builds an army to kill Batman has to be stubborn. Surviving an explosion of that magnitude? Yeah.
They've given him a babysitter, though, because he keeps trying to get up and track down Batman. Frank can't blame him, he really can't, but...Batman's nowhere to be found, they're handling it, and he about died.
Antoine's on duty right now, and has been more often than not. That mess at the asylum dredged up some nasty memories. Frank gets it. He does. But the kid's gonna be sorry if he sleeps in that chair again.
If he doesn't move, Frank's happy to go get Trent and make him move. It's for his own good. But he's going to try the nice route first. He knows what he'd rather have.
Jason's asleep, one arm hanging off the bed and the other flung over his face. He's breathing easy enough, with no signs of nightmares (he's ripped some stitches once already), but he's half-squirmed out of his blankets. Frank sighs, remembers when Sam was little and would, somehow, manage to kick his blankets halfway across the room, fling a leg off the mattress, and still wake up bouncy.
Kids.
He pulls the blankets down, settles Jason's arms by his sides, and tucks him back in. There.
Frank had hoped, just a little, that Antoine would be awake. But no. Of course not. He's young, he hasn't suffered the horrors of an out back yet. He doesn't know any better.
He sighs and shuffles closer to shake him awake. He feels bad about it, is the thing, and if he could, he'd happily turn around and leave. But it's for the best; the shadows under his eyes are halfway to his damn jaw, he's pale and sickish-looking, and Frank will bet money that he'll get some nice cracks out of his joints when he gets up. So he crouches down, reaches over, and gives him a little shake.
"C'mon, Antoine. Wake up, bud."
He does, sort of, jolting upright and leading with his right fist. Just like he did last time. And just like last time, it's sloppy and wild and Frank easily tips to the side to avoid it.
"Hey," he says gently. "Come on. Time for bed."
"F-Frank…?"
"Yeah." Now that he's not running on fight-or-flight, it's safe to ruffle his hair. "Time for bed."
"But…"
"I'm gonna take over for you, okay? You need a night's sleep in a bed, not a chair."
Antoine blinks a few times before shaking his head and settling back into the chair with a sleepy, "Said I'd-"
"Nah-uh. Come on." He stands up, knee cracking, and holds out his hand. "Let's go."
"Can't." This sorry, stubborn little… "M'good. Chair's comfy."
"Up we go."
"Can't." This is new. Frank goes back down so they're at eye level and waits. "I gotta stay here."
"Somebody's gotta stay here, bud," Frank says gently. "I'm gonna take over for you so you can sleep and not wake up all hunched over."
"I gotta stay here," Antoine insists, voice low and borderline frantic. "I gotta stay here, this is my fault-"
Where's Mark and his bag of sedatives when you need him?
"Hey-hey, knock that off." Frank gives him a little shake. "This is Batman's fault. And Scarecrow's. And okay, maybe we shouldn't have signed up to pick a fight with the Bat, but-"
"Uh-uh." He straightens up, grimacing as he does so, and pokes at a bruise on his wrist. Frank resists the urge to make him stop it. "Something was up and I knew something was up and I didn't-"
"Shh." Now he does tug his fingers away from the bruise. "Stop that, and listen. There was nothing you-or anybody else-could've done to keep him from making questionable life choices. You hear? Nothing about this is your fault-"
"If I'd been paying attention-"
"We were in way over our heads-"
"The fucking Amazon all over again-"
And there it is. Frank's been waiting, a little, for that to come up. Antoine doesn't like to talk about it, says he's over it, and most of the time that's true. Just like most of the time Riley's okay with cookouts. Just like most of the time Frank can drive at night.
Most of the time being the key phrase.
"No, it's not," he says carefully. "Everybody made it out, everybody's fine, and that wasn't your fault, either, you know that-"
Antoine laughs. Well. He makes a noise related to laughter, but it's broken and very unsettling.
"Something wasn't right," he says, breathing still too fast and too shallow. "I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't want-I didn't know how to-Jesus Christ-"
"Come here." Frank leans up and over and tugs him into a...it's meant as a hug, but Antoine's ramrod straight and shaking. "Come here, come on...there we go. There we go. You're fine. We're all fine."
Antoine resists the hug for all of five seconds before going limp and letting himself be rocked a bit. Hey, it doesn't matter if you're two or twenty, it works. There's probably some sorta science behind it.
"Sh-sh-sh...you're good, you're good, I gotcha…"
"I'm sorry," he chokes, and Frank tightens his grip. "I'm sorry, I just-I don't know what got into me-"
"Stress and overtired. Don't be sorry."
"But-"
"Shh." He pats his shoulder. "Just settle down now. Come on, deep breaths."
Frank seriously considers going to get Mark and his bag of sedatives anyway; the shaking isn't stopping and Antoine sounds like he's about to start hyperventilating. But he manages to keep himself together, and when Frank moves to let go of him he doesn't fall out of the chair or anything.
"You good?"
It's obvious he's not, but he shrugs and nods anyway.
"I'm good."
Frank lets him have that, because what's a man got if he doesn't have his pride, and stands up-owwowow, old, getting old is awful, floors are your new enemy. Wow.
"Don't make me call Trent. I'll take over, you need a decent night's sleep." Antoine's quiet for a few minutes, but he does finally struggle upright. Good. "Go on."
"You're sure?"
"I'm not asking."
"Okay." He yawns and rubs at his jaw, visibly cringing at the stubble. "G'night…"
He stumbles off and Frank settles down in his place. He's tired. It's...it's been a long few days. He'll be glad, truth be told, when this is all over. He can fly blind. It's not unheard of, to fly blind. But he's never liked having to. That's what contingency plans are for.
Jason sighs, squirms a little bit before going still again, and Frank pulls out his tablet to check the drones' settings and make sure nobody's malfunctioning. They don't seem to be, but they're not picking anything up, and...well...he's not sure, nobody is, how much of Batman is still there. Does he know how to use all his gadgets? Who knows. Not them. Frank's hoping no, but Jimmy's rightfully paranoid and he's been updating the programming as much as he can, under the circumstances.
What was that-nothing. Absolutely nothing. Frank sort of wishes it was something. Not knowing is awful.
Maybe Batman's dead. That would be perfectly fine. Preferable, even. But he doubts that. They should be so lucky.
Scans are blank. Scans are always blank. Scans, searches...he's nowhere. It's infuriating.
Never mind. They'll find him. He has to be at least injured, right? Surely.
Out of nowhere, Frank has the horrible idea of a squad hefting up a piece of rubble and letting him out of whatever hidey-hole he'd gotten stuck in. Maybe...just...nope, nothing there either.
Where are you, you son of a bitch?
Zilch. He sets the tablet aside and looks up at the ceiling, eyes tired, and pops his neck. They'll find him eventually, Frank's positive.
He just hopes it's not when he pops out of a grate to slaughter them all.
THE END