Hello friends, long time no see. Enjoy this disaster of a chapter.
Diana
She hadn't seen Bruce like this in too many years to count, eyes crazed with worry, weaving recklessly through Gotham's winding streets, mind blinded with grief. She's caught, staring at the profile of his face, at the fine wrinkles that weren't there when they first met. She can see his eyes clearly in the dim lights from the street, probably because they're glossy with tears.
Diana has never seen him cry, and he isn't crying now, Bruce never daring to let the tears fall.
"Bruce?" She cautions, wanting to help brace him for what's to come.
"I failed him, Diana." Bruce says, the words just above a whisper.
She wants to say something comforting, to reach out and grab his hand, tell him that Jason needs him right now and he needs to be strong. But Bruce isn't that same 20-something running around in his new suit anymore, and she loves him too much to lie.
"Yes," she says, "you did."
Bruce's face hardens, he takes a deep breath. "Never again then." He says with resolve, spinning around a corner so fast that the tires squeal.
"No. Never again." Diana confirms as the car slams to a halt before a wall of fire.
She's out of the car before it even comes to a complete stop, Bruce on her heels. Rounding the corner, lit up with heat, she can see them.
Dick sits crouched on his knees, Jason clutched tightly in his arms, rocking back and forth frantically. The sight causes her to slow slightly as it hits her, Dick cradling the mangled boy she would have once recognized as Jason, as if he were a young boy simply plagued with a nightmare.
Bruce flies past her, falling to his knees beside the boys, one hand on the nape of Dick's neck in a comforting gesture, the other cupping Jason's cheek. Diana runs up beside them, crouching down on Dick's other side.
"Dick," Bruce says, voice firm but gentle, "You need to let go."
Dick stops rocking then, finally looks up at them both. His face smeared with blood and ash. He opens his mouth to speak but no sound comes out. Diana reaches forward to untangle Dick's limbs from around Jason while Bruce pulls the boy into his arms. But Dick clings to him, hands shaking, fingers locking around Jason's hand. When Bruce finally pulls Jason away and lays him on his back he calls out for Tim, one hand on Jason's neck searching for a pulse.
Tim is beside them in an instant, talking in hushed tones, wiping the sweat from his eyes, putting all of his weight onto the hole in Jason's shoulder.
"Oh god," Dick whispers, slowly coming back to himself. "This is really it, he's going to die. He's really going to die."
Diana cups Dick's face in her hands. "Not if we can help it."
Diana steps around Dick to kneel next to Jason, removing a compression bandage from her belt, moving Tim out of the way and plastering it on Jason's shoulder. Cass is beside her, removing a similar bandage from her own belt and pressing it onto the hole in Jason's side. Bruce and Tim exchange small words, their fingers gently running over Jason's scalp, looking for head trauma.
Jason looks ghostly pale in the light of the fire, fine ash particles landing on his motionless form. Diana watches as Bruce's hand lingers in the boy's thick curls, fingers trembling slightly as they brush his hair back from his temple.
Suddenly Jason shudders lifelessly, he coughs and a stream of blood and bile leaks from his mouth. Cassandra is quick to turn his head to the side and wipe his face clean with a spare bandage.
"He's running out of time, we have to move." Diana says.
Bruce nods in agreement and looks up to meet everyone's gaze. "Cass, Tim, I need you both to stay here and help with search and rescue."
"Bruce, you can't really expect-" Tim begins, but Cass stops him and nods silently. She shoots Diana a glance then pulls Tim back into the fire.
Bruce gets his arms under Jason's knees and shoulders and hoists him up. Diana can't help but notice the hesitation that whispers across Bruce's features as he holds the boy to his chest, the way his mouth falls into a grimace. Because if this were their normal spit-fire Jason, who weighs well over 200lbs, Bruce wouldn't be able to scoop him up like he's doing now. But after months of malnutrition and illness of the body and mind, the Jason they knew has wasted away. And as Jason's head falls to Bruce's chest, coated in ash and sweat and blood, the sight is all too painful and familiar.
The three of them break into a run towards the Batmobile, Bruce holding onto Jason tightly as the boy is jostled in his arms. Dead weight, head lolling backwards, pointed skyward, blood still oozing from his mouth. Diana swallows the bile that has forced its way into her throat and throws open the back door to the batmobile.
Dick climbs into the opposite side of the car and takes Jason's head and shoulders as they are passed to him and together he and Bruce lower Jason onto the back seat, which has been reassembled into a makeshift medical cot. The two passenger seats in the back have been folded down to reveal a bench seat with three perpendicular seat belts that Dick secures over Jason's chest and legs. Bruce climbs into the driver's seat as Diana is closing the passenger door behind her.
The engine comes to life in an instant and they're rocketing forward even faster, tires squealing against the pavement. They are only about seven minutes from the batcave, from Leslie, from help.
"Dick, I need you to talk to me." Bruce says, his voice failing to hide how truly scared he is. "I need you to tell me he's still alive."
Diana turns around in her seat to look back at Dick. He's seated at the far side of the bench, Jason's head in his lap. He has one hand on Jason's wrist, the other over his heart. He still looks slightly lost, eyes watery from both the smoke and the shock of it all.
"He's still alive." Dick answers weakly, eyes transfixed on Jason's face.
Bruce lets out a heavy sigh and reaches forward to press something on the dash. The speakers sputter momentarily, a burst of static and then familiar voices.
"Bruce, please tell us you found him." Barbara asks through the coms.
"Please Master Bruce, tell us he's alright." Says Alfred.
"We found him, he's alive for now." Bruce answers tightly, then a moment of weakness. "Alfred-" he begins, his voice failing him. "What time do you think you could get here?"
"We're about 20 minutes out my lad." Alfred responds.
Diana looks back at Dick again, watches as the hand that was over Jason's heart now brushes the hair off of his forehead. Looking at them she feels as though she's seen this moment before. Because Jason, who spits at risk, who is never terrified enough, always seems to be running head first towards destruction. And if it weren't for Dick, who tries so hard to keep himself anchored, Jason would have been lost long ago.
It's as if Death chases Jason, as if it's an illness simply in remission, waiting patiently to destroy him at every step.
Her eyes are tearing heavily now, and the weight of it all is threatening to choke her.
"Please hurry." She says, as the first tears fall.
Tim
People will tell you the roar of a fire sounds like a wild animal, and they're right.
As the heat thunders into the sky, Tim wipes the ash from his eyes with the back of his hand and repositions the rebreather over his mouth and nose. So far, they've found no survivors. But, the night is young, and Tim refuses to give up now.
Tim dives back into the inferno, flames dancing dangerously close to his skin but never quite touching him. He's managed to make a sort of path for himself through the wreckage, he and the others combing through the fire carefully, desperate not to miss anyone.
Despite the heat Tim shivers violently at the thought of being left to die in the smoke and ruins, choking on air, skin boiling against the flames. Tim thinks back to a personnel file he'd read, Jason's autopsy report. His brother hadn't died from the explosion, from the blunt force trauma, even though he would have. It was the smoke that killed him. To think that after all of that, the smoke was what did him in.
Tim stops to double check his rebreather, anxiety momentarily getting the better of him before he trudges on. He makes his way along the left side of the warehouse, lined with cots now ablaze, small childhood mementos thought to be safe under the covers turning to ash before his eyes. He ducks down, sees a small form beneath one of the beds and calls out to it, approaching carefully. The form doesn't answer, and as Tim nears, pushing the bed away from the wall he finds the remains of a small child.
The grief hits him all over again. No matter how many he finds, that feeling will never go away. He takes the fire retardant blanket he's tied around his shoulders and wraps the body in it, careful not to touch the melted skin that bubbles on the child's arms, clenched tightly over its face. Gently he pulls the body into his arms and runs back into the cool autumn air.
Stephanie, Cassandra, Damian and Tim stand for a moment in shocked silence as they stare before them all. Lined upon the pavement are bodies, children to teenagers, burned and crushed beyond recognition. An audience of empty, broken children.
There are sirens in the distance, approaching quickly. They should go, leave the search and rescue to Gotham's fire department, and run home to Jason. But something holds them where they are. Maybe it's the fear of going home and finding something they can't handle, maybe it's the guilt of leaving when there really could still be someone still alive in there, or maybe it's because this- this building and these kids- they were Jason's, and they all need a moment to grieve.
Tim wakes the small computer on his wrist and pulls up a list of names and pictures. Looking at their smiling faces, it gets hard to keep his composure.
"This is the list of all of the kids Jason housed here," Tim begins, giving himself a moment to clear the emotion from his throat. "Let's start identifying some of these bodies before the fire department gets here."
Damian visibly shivers, but compiles and comes over to sync his computer with Tim's, as does Stephanie. Cass, however, remains frozen. She's staring at one of the bodies, it's curled tightly in a ball, jaw wretched open in what might have been a cry. On closer examination, Tim can see the child is curled around a small stuffed animal, which is only slightly singed but otherwise intact. This melted child, curled around a preserved stuffed dog is enough to make bile threaten his throat.
Cass is shivering with rage now, Tim can see it simmer off of her skin. Steph has noticed too and now stares at Cass quizzically.
"Cass?" Stephanie ventures, reaching out her hand in a gentle gesture, "When we're done with this we can go see Jay."
Cass shakes her head, and looks back to the fire. "No." She says darkly. "No." Then she's running back into the flames before any of them could move to stop her.
"Cass!" Tim screams after her, diving into the path she's made through the smoke. He glances back, sees Steph holding Damian behind her in a fiercely protective manner and holds up a hand to reassure them. "I'll be right back!" He promises, before disappearing into the fire.
Inside, the heat is deafening, the inferno seems to only be growing as night threatens closer and closer to hell. Tim can see Cass out of the corner of his eye, a smudge of black against the flames. He moves to follow her, the heat drawing the moisture from his skin so quickly he begins to feel dizzy as the world melts around him.
"Cass!" He yells, but she's vanished into the blaze.
The ceiling begins to whine - to scream - supports crumbling, showering Tim with flaming debris. He's running now, dodging falling beams and showers of glass from above him, chasing the memory of Cassandra through the warehouse. A wall of fire thunders down before him, the blast of hot air nearly knocking him over, singeing off the end of one eyebrow as he turns away from the fire.
The air is knocked from his lungs as he hits the ground, pain shivering through his left elbow as it connects harshly with the concrete. He's coughing, shouting for Cass in his daze. Then, hands on his shoulders, hooking underneath them to hoist him to his feet.
As Tim is dragged out into the cold Gotham night, flashing lights stimulating his ever growing headache, he turns back to the building just as it collapses into a smoldering heap.
Until next time, MS.