Title: JayLad
Words: 12694
Rating: T
Fandom: Batman
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and Alfred PennyWorth
Summary: Jason gets sick, goes out and fights -I know, D U M B- but he runs into the bats. Jason is pretty young in this story and he is still recovering from the after effects of all that happened with him and the pit. And, I may have thrown canon right out of the window from a plane down into the recessing pool of ocean... What I'm saying is that Jason gets a hug from his FREAKING Dad. Okay. Imagine that. Happy Ending.
Chapter 5: The Final Act?
Summary:
It flippin' #$% that, almost everyone in his life was against him weren't they? The hero's vs the enemy. Jason Todd, known as the Robin that fell from the nest too soon, or Red Hood the traitor. That was all his worth. A memory of the past, or a memory not worth remembering as it left a bad taste in your mouth. It was like a sequel to a really good movie. That Something, or someone could never be as good as the original.
... ... ...
No. Please.
The laughter was so close the back of his neck tickled in an anxious fury.
Not this #$% again.
Shoot.
Literally.
Right now, all he could think about was reaching the gun dangled from the edged fingers of his grasp. Control, it ached after him. It echoed after him as it pumped in his veins through waves. Though, it all seemingly faded away like a dream. Washing away like a tide on a island of his own making. Tugging at his pinned form, the batarangs -the ones securing him to the wall- tightened leaving him unable to reach what was once so close to his grasp. Heaving, something pinched tighter around his already busted ribs leaving him open to being slammed back against the wall. Wincing as something in his wrist obviously popped, he looked down. Oh, how about that? Some extra securing ropes seemed to have just... 'appeared'. Just for little ol' him. Fan-fudging-tastic.
Biting his lip in anticipation, the pungent smell of gasoline hit his senses so quickly causing a dry retch to bubble up his throat. Puddling around his ankles, the gas licked against his skin in a taunting passion, burning. The tattering remains of his uniform clung to the sticky perspiration of his flesh, itching. And his mind, it shivered in its fuel enraged feverish haze, frightened.
Sucking in a choked gasp, his throat filled with a burning fire that tasted much like salt water. Could be the drowning his mind supplied, or, tasting the salty disdain of his emotions his chest rattled, tears.
Flinging forward, he fell back against the wall with a strangled thud and shriek.
Why him?
Looking up, he squeezed his wrists against the restraints. Oh dear God, if your listening, why?
Pulling and tugging on the restraints, a sob fluttered out on accident. It was always the same ol' #$%!
Witnessing the batarangs dig deeper into the yellow lining of his cape, he took several deep breaths sensing the familiar wave of panic creep up over him.
Perhaps, he deserved this. All of this. Every stinking last bit.
All villains did deserve their tragic ending. A bit dramatic of course, but who was he to talk considering how he had first died.
H-he was... dying.
#$%, he was dying.
...
He would be dead.
At last?
Villains.
They always seem depicted as ones who choose their fate, made decisions that led them to the irredeemable end of their existence. However, did they ALL really though? Of course, not that he was vouching for villains or supposing that anything that anyone of those #$% did was forgivable, but considering the fine line between hero and villain he walked he often questioned.
Supposed he didn't really want to be 'bad'. Heaven knows that he wouldn't be out doing what he was doing every night, every day, just to be the 'bad' guy.
This, was the pits fault. The pit, it had distorted everything in his life, made him angry...'ier'. Still did. And, whatever the pit did was in turn still his fault. Or, that's at least what the Bat's thought. Actions do have consequences, but its not like he really... no.. he.. didn't mean to. How could he even promise that he has no recollection of using actual bullets to the big ol' bat? He wouldn't be believed. Nor is he ever 'believed'. The Bat's philosophy is to ship their mortal enemy off to Arkham and ask questions later.
Shaking at the restraints again, an invisible force of his #$%-fueled nightmare held him back, as it whistled hollowly.
Every run in with the Bats, he literally runs. No matter how friendly they all seem. No matter how much of a #$%-eating grin they toss his way it was all lies. As long as there was a chance, even the sliver of a chance, he doesn't... HE WOULDN'T be taken back to Arkham. Never again.
Seeing green, he whined miserable. Why couldn't he have just died? This would have been made so much easier. Why couldn't he have just stayed dead? Or was he?
It flippin' #$% that, almost everyone in his life was against him weren't they? The hero's vs the enemy. Jason Todd, known as the Robin that fell from the nest too soon, or Red Hood the traitor. That was all his worth. A memory of the past, or a memory not worth remembering as it left a bad taste in your mouth. It was like a sequel to a really good movie. That Something, or someone could never be as good as the original.
Hey, how could he expect to have his 'family' on his side when even his mind was against him. With him running around like a complete chaotic nut case when he came back from the dead, heh, he would have thrown the batarang at his neck too.
Although, he would not have missed.
...
Just...
When would it all end?
The suffering.
What was the point to all of this? What was the point of 'his' life?
The dragging sound of the crowbar grew louder.
Alone. So Alone.
"So we meet again..." The sinister voice spoke, following with it a chuckle. "But we ALWAYS do! So why should that really come as a surprise by nowww little birdie."
Clenching his fists, he absentmindedly dropped the gun. It echoed upon his ears with a clink and a blast as it fired with a bang. Violently shivering against the grating upon his ears his head pounded. This must be some sick sadistic joke by his #$%-up brain.
"AH, HA HA HA! ... Little Birdie, ya outta be careful. Carefulll. Carefullll! wouldn't want to make this night a real 'Gas' would we little Red?" " The Joke fell dead, as it giggled.
The Gasoline luckily didn't set off from the gun shot blast. Although, not that it really mattered.
"All you bats are SO... incredibly dull. Pathetic really." The crowbar slowly etched in a screech as it slowly became accompanied by an incoming figure from the encroaching fog. "Perhaps, old Joker here outta teach ya the 'ropes'."
Times like these, some grown- #$%-men may be on their hands and knees begging.
"GET it? 'Ropes?'" The maniac squealed with an unearthly laughter dying out to a slowly echoing chuckle.
Personally, he had seen it one two many times as he held a pistol to someones chest, demanding information for some case or another. Typically, it would end in them crying for their mama-
"No, I'm sure you would just get 'tied' up. Perhaps-"
-but him, he just wanted,...
"I should have taught you better." The figure spoke descending out of the fog.
Batman.
...
"Dad."
Jason's hands clenched tighter in his own.
This was a terrible mess.
Slouched forward, he ran a hand through his hair. Fourteen hours.
Only Fourteen hours since this whole nightmare had started; for every second of it, he wished he could justify going back in time to stop this from occurring. What exactly had Jason been thinking when he had gone out on patrol in this condition? What had Jason been thinking when he hadn't gone for help?
Fortunately -with Alfred's insistence of course- he had been able to take a shower, get dressed, and overall look 'alive' again. Which, felt great, but was severely regretted. For the moment he stepped a foot into Jason's old bedroom it was terror. For Jason had been in the throes of a nightmarish realm, to which not even the octopus that was Richard could comfort him from. So here he was, the only one who could apparently provide some leverage of comfort. So this is where he had stayed - and belonged-, and had continued to be for the past several hours.
At this point, he didn't even know if Batman was going to make it to patrol tonight, or if Bruce Wayne was going to make it to the three o'clock meeting. It didn't matter to him at the moment. Let them wait, let them all wait, because right now somebody needed him more than the Wayne foundation needed Brucie or Gotham needed the Batman. And sure as #$% he was going to be here. This time, and from now on he would be here. Where he needed to be, as a Father should be.
Let alone what Jason was thinking, but what was he thinking? Letting Jason live out on the streets like this. For goodness sakes, Jason was only seventeen. Granted, almost eighteen if his calculations were correct, but still underage. Still in a need of a legal guardian, a parent. Someone who would be there. Hey, Richard still needed him so age eighteen wasn't a deadline.
Rubbing his thumb over just one of the many bandages Alfred had plastered on Jason's fingers, he rubbed his eyes with the corner of his shoulder. He needed to be strong, needed to be here, but, he also needed Jason to be okay. They were so fortunate that Jason had even pulled through. With the appendix bursting upon arrival, secondary drowning, and the Peritonitis that developed. It was a wonder that Jason didn't die, again.
Jaso- His son was dying, and didn't reach out for help.
Turning around at the death-curdling scream, a panic set in as he instinctively slugged the guy in the face. Okay, that would probably lose the police the dental records. Ouch.
With all the screams and shouting going on you would think he would not be able to tell. However, that scream. It was one of his boys. But which one?
Looking around with typical tactics, he threw a batarang taking note. Richard, at 4 o'clock. Punch. Left Kick. Damian, twelve o'clock. Lunge. Play Bowling ball. Tim, 7 o'clock. Strike! Right punch. Jason, He was-
Spinning around in a fluid motion he watched the unfolding scene as Mr. Tae pushed Jason right off the pier ledge into the harbor itself. Squinting his eyes through his mask, he ducked under a baseball bat swing. Not evidently dangerous at first glance. However- Jason wasn't coming back up.
Flickering between Richard, Mr. Tae, and the wanna-be hulk, he pressed the comm ramming the toothpick of a man down. "Night Wing, your on watch out. Keep an eye on Robin."
"Father-" A voice interceded.
"Names in the field Robin."
"Right, 'Batman'. I'm perfectly capable of-"
"I am 'perfectly' aware of what you are capable of. That is what concerns me."
"Whats going on B?"
"Trouble with Ja- Red Hood." He seethed as one of the goons got a good kick at his lower thigh. That was going to sting tomorrow.
Pushing the goons out of his way, he tossed a smoke bomb sneaking his way over to the dock. Just what was going o- Pausing he noticed Mr. Tae laughing? Drunkenly so.
Dealing with drunks were -to say in the least- unpleasant. He didn't want to burn another costume...
Striding over he pulled the back of the Ring leaders collar with no hesitation. This caused something to slip and slosh into the water.
Cursing, he aimed a boot at the guys head, knocking his drunk #$% unconscious.
"Back up. Now. Pier. " He pressed the side of his comm before diving into the sludge know as 'clean water'.
Swimming down he felt around. It was useless, it was far too dark and Hood had slipped down to past his level of sight. Grumbling, he reached the surface taking another breath of air. Placing a rebreather in his mouth, he dove back down before turning on a underwater light.
Heading down, something shiny and red sparkled. Immediately pulling Jason to the surface, he couldn't help but take note of the cracked helmet.
Concussion, his mind supplied.
That blasted helmet, he couldn't even put a rebreather on Jay.
Nightwing gasped when they both broke through the waters surface. Jason remained limp as Richard, -with Tim's help- pulled Jason to the pier.
Reaching the deck himself, he took inventory of the quiet surroundings. "Call Gordan, they can take care of the rest."
"But Fath-"
"Robin call the Batmobile. No, your not driving." He supplied hoping to distract the boy for a bit at he tugged at the helmet. Just how did this thing- There.
Water spewed out as it unlatched.
#$%. Slapping the side of Jason's face lightly, he took note that there wasn't any indication of breathing coming back naturally.
"He's not breathing."
Checking his pulse, Richard knelt beginning to perform CPR.
"Red, I want you to call Gordan and get Leslie on the line. See if she has any space available tonight."
"But What about the cav-"
"I said now Tim."
Wincing at the sharpness of his own tone, he ignored it for now reminding himself to apologize later. Meanwhile, he began to rub up and down Jason's arms and legs to warm him.
Richard came up for breath as Jason coughed sputtering.
"There we go. Wait no... there we don't go."
Watching concerned as Jason wasn't taking in anymore oxygen, he forced Jason's eyelids open. Definitely a concussion.
"Jason wake up, come on." He gritted Patting his son's face again as the batmobile came roaring around the corner.
Obviously Damian didn't listen...
Damian slithered out the drivers seat running over. "Father? Why is he not awake?" He would talk to the boy later about not following instructions, but for now he kept his focus on Jason.
"I don't see any blockage." Richard said looking in Jason's mouth. "Though it is dark."
Watching as Richard began CPR again, he moved to perform chest compressions grimacing as he heard one of Jason's ribs crack. Shoot.
"Leslie says she has an openin-"
"Forget it." He said pausing. "Tell her we have no time and to come to the Cave. Code Red" Bruce says getting one arm under Jason's legs and the other under his neck. "Open the door."
Furrowing his brows, he looked down with concern. It was way too noticeable at how light Jason was for a seventeen year old, especially with all the gear the boy had on.
Sliding Jason in the backseat he held the lolling head firmly. "Damian come sit here in the back. Hold his head. No. Like this."
Helping Damian to sit with Jason's head in his lap, he brushed some of the wet hair from Jason's forehead back. "Try not to let him jostle." He mentions getting in the driver seat as Richard climbs in the back continuing CPR. Tim simply gets in the back as well to help hold Jason in place at his feet.
"Your bike?"
The engine starts as he puts the batmobile into drive.
"It can wait." Tim said hurried.
Grunting, he went at full speed on auto drive.
"Breath you idiot." Damian grumbles.
He could not help but to concur with Damian's ... unorthodox sentiment. Breath Jason. Please.
Riding a few minutes in an breathless silence, they entered one of the few tunnels leading to the batcave. Hearing a gasp, Richard pulled back hitting the back of the drivers seat on accident. He couldn't help but sigh. Thank you God.
"There we go!" Richard exclaimed turning Jason's head to the side as some more inhaled water came up.
" Hey, Bruce." Tim said.
Looking at the mirror, he watched as Tim gave a worried look. "He has a really high fever."
"Come up front."
"But-"
"I'm not taking any risks with your spleen. Come up front. Richard can handle it."
With Tim doing so, he turned around in his seat. "Report?" He asked looking at the back of his eldest son's head.
"B... I don't know. Besides the drowning complications. It looks like probably some sort of... infection? A really bad one at that. But from the looks of it hes really... malnourished, definitely fleas." Richard said pausing to swat at something on his arm. " And... oh... what the-"
"What?"
"B, its his stomach. Its swollen. Really badly."
Suddenly Damian yelped as Jason rolled over throwing up.
Wishing he could climb into the back seat himself, he kept his eyes on the road. The quicker they got there the better. "Tim, Report this to Leslie-"
"On it."
"And Alfred."
"Double on it."
"Mphglluh..." A strangle voice moaned suddenly stopping.
"Oh #$%. Stay with us Jaybird."
He pressed on the gas petal harder.
"Okay, I'm going to have to start chest compressions. Pulse is dropping. Damian lay his head flat!"
If that didn't speak testament to his failures, he didn't know what did.
Here, his son was dying -which could have been prevented- and he had gone to nobody. Bruce Wayne, Messed up. Batman, Messed up. Him as a father, messed up.
Brushing a lock of Jason's hair, tinged with sweat and some mangled dried blood, he bit back a sob. Just what was going through Jason's mind? Did he even want to know?
Tracing the light scar on Jason's neck, he paused in his monotonous motion. In an odd wishful way, he wished he could fix all of this by kissing it better. Just like his parent's would do to make the problems of the world simply melt away. However this, this wasn't a problem he could just brush away, he -in his own anger- had hurt his son. Granted, his son was about to make a really stupid decision- but this, this scar was only skin deep to the depth of Jason's pain, and his own.
Jason had been physiologically hurt already, -he wasn't even aware as to how far that suffering went and all he had gone through- and he had made it worse, and that wasn't okay. The situation on his part, could have been handled a bit more tactfully he must admit.
Taking a deep breath, he choked on an intake of air as the bed shook.
"Jason?" He asked surprised.
Awake already?
Watching as Jason flung himself forward, he was quick to place a hand on Jason's back to support his broken ribs. Jason was also quick to fling him aside.
"NO! No! NO! Please NOOO!"
"Jay!"
"DON'T! GET AWAY!" Jason screamed beginning to jerk.
Bracing his hands on Jason's shoulders, he was swung side to side as Jason violently swung trying to hoist himself further.
"Jay? Its alright. Calm down."
This is where he was now beginning to regret the order request that no one was to enter the room for any reason. That was so Jason wouldn't be overwhelmed, a bit of a misconstrued decision on his part he must now admit.
Hopping onto the side of the bed, he sat one leg on one of Jason's arms. Didn't need any of the stitches pulled. Though at this point he suspected his attempt at avoiding such happens were undoubtedly futile.
Hearing Jason's wrist pop underneath his weight, he quickly pulled on a nearby restraint.
"Oh shoot. I- I'm sorry Jay. Its alright Jay. Shh. Its Alright."
Hurriedly moving off of Jason's arm, he applied the other restraint as Jason continued to scream.
The bedroom door began to knock with Alfred undoubtedly on the other side.
Jason's eyes darted wildly between the sobs, screams, and... begging.
With him failing Robin, failing Red Hood, he just... he refused to stand by and continue to fail his son.
Wiping the tears off his sons face, he ignored the knocking on the door for now.
Unsure as what he could do, he began to place a temporary patch on Jason's wrist until he could assess it in more clarity.
"I'm so sorry son, I- I should have done better."
Wrapping Jason's wrist with gauze, a soft whimper broke through the obsessive sobs.
"Dad."
