As soon as the results had been announced, the Team had rushed backstage to talk to Jaime. Surprisingly Nightwing, of all people, reached Jaime first - before even Bart; though he and Cassie were hot on his heels. They had barely crossed the door leading backstage that Cassie noticed Connor's face scrunging up in anger.
She strained to hear what her team-mate had heard and though she was not able to do this, she did not like the sound of what she could hear: Jaime cursing at himself.
His voice audibly strained and accompanied by the sound of a fist colliding with metal, which she correctly guessed as Jaime hitting the armrest of his wheelchair.
She had never heard Jaime swear before. Obviously he'd said the occasional 'damn' or 'hell,' but nothing like this. He could make a sailor blush with the way he was talking.
Jaime slammed his fist against his armrest several more times, stopping only when his hand was red and throbbing with pain. He exhaled sharply through his nose and moved to grab his guitar wordlessly. When he went to leave, however, he was stopped by Nightwing and Connor's hands upon his shoulders.
They both knew what it was like, to lose something you felt you'd die without. To feel all of that frustration - at themselves and at the world - and the dark rage coursing through them. It was only natural for them to wish for Jaime to avoid all of those dark, brooding feelings.
Neither hand that was grasping each shoulder held enough force to hold him in place, though it seemed the contact was all it took to stop Jaime from moving. Cassie saw all emotion drain from Jaime's face, leaving behind an empty, tired shell.
His shoulders sagged with the weight of his problems, his frame hunched over, as if keeping his back straight demanded too much from him. His hands uncurled from the tight fists they had formed, and now lay unmoving in his lap. She heard him heave a sigh through his dry lips, and all remaining energy left the room, as if expelled far away simply by Jaime's presence.
"It's over," he finally rasped without rancor, but traces of sorrow laced the undertones of his voice.
She gasped. "Don't say that! It's not over yet!" she replied heatedly.
"Not unless I manage to rob a bank," he answered sardonically, though a wild glimmer shone in his otherwise lifeless eyes.
Before she could help it, her arm swung out, slapping Jaime on the back of the head. "Don't even joke about stuff like that, Blue," she told him, but a smirk was playing on her lips.
He chuckled, the sound coming out more like a rasp, and sounding odd coming from him. He rubbed the back of head, where Cassie had slapped him. "It's the banks' security that's a joke," he said.
Although the subject was anything but funny - after all, they were the ones to deal with faulty security - the joke elicited smirks and even light chuckles from everyone.
"Hey, Connor?" Jaime asked.
Superboy turned to look at him with ill-covered concern. "Yeah?"
"Could you take my guitar for me, please?"
"Sure thing," he said, gently taking the instrument, knowing how much it meant to Jaime. He swung the guitar case over his shoulders, and made to push Jaime, but Cassie beat him to it.
"Hey! I can push myself," he protested.
Cassie ignored his complaining and kept pushing him until they were outside, far from the condescending looks of the other competitors.
The sun was still setting, painting the sky multiple shades of crimson, fiery orange hues that faded into blue. They meandered, with no set destination in mind. Jaime's mother and sister hadn't followed him, knowing he needed time alone - or with friends - to not go insane right now.
Once they were a safe distance from the school, Jaime spoke up. "So what now?"
"Now," Bart replied, being the first to formulate the words. "We cheer you up, Hermano!"
Jaime shook his head, an awkward looking scowl setting upon his face. "Not in the mood right now, Bart."
Bart visibly deflated, but his happy-go-lucky smile was back barely a second later. His friend needed to take his mind off of everything that was happening to - and around - him. Bart took a deep breath to steady himself.
"We could just go for a walk and hang out?" he offered meekly.
"Well," Jaime started with false enthusiasm, "you guys can walk, but I'm kinda stuck in this wheelchair." He tapped its wheel for emphasis.
Despite herself, Cassie chuckled. She knew it was in bad taste, but she loved that kind of humor - any kind of dark humor, in fact. It made coping with what she saw everyday much easier. She rubbed her neck, abashed, when Nightwing sent a curious stare her way.
"Come on," Cassie said, walking before the group, still pushing Jaime. "Blue showed me a quiet little spot where he likes to hang out."
Bart couldn't help it and chuckled, walking ahead to nudge Jaime with his elbow. "I bet that spot wasn't quiet for long, eh, Casanova?" This earned him a slap behind the head by Cassie, and elicited not much more than a grunt from Jaime.
The rest of the walk was quiet, the silence sometimes filled by passing cars, or people celebrating the weekend in restaurants or bars. They arrived at the park before dark cloaked the sky, and looked at how the remaining sunlight dappled the usual green of the leaves into shades of gold, burning under a fiery red sky that would soon fade to the deepest indigo.
Cassie led them deeper into the park, until they reached a small area circled by trees, the path still visible.
It really was a quiet spot, they realized. They couldn't hear the noises of the surrounding streets, the park empty of the children who usually spent their free time there. Even Bart seemed to slow down, finding the place oddly soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was here that Jaime came to relax now, that dampened the speedster's usually energetic personality. Most of the group sat down, except for Nightwing and Connor, who walked to Jaime's side.
"Do you want to sit on the grass?"asked Nightwing.
Jaime shrugged, and made a noncommittal noise. They two boys gently lifted Jaime from his chair and sat him down upon the cooling grass.
The teens were all arranged upon the ground in a circle now and Jaime took the time to feel the breeze on his face as he felt the grass with the palm of his hands.
Right here, right now, Jaime felt... good.
What the..? he thought, startled by his sudden inner peace. Why was he feeling so calm? He knew he was supposed to feel stressed, angry - at the world mostly, but also at himself - and scared. He had lost the use of his legs! Everything that the world had thrown at him should make him enraged. But strangely, Jaime felt oddly tranquil.
As the seconds ticked by, he felt he cared less about the fact that he didn't care about his entire situation anymore.
You've finally gone through the last stage of grief, acceptance.
Whoah! Jaime nearly jumped at the voice. It's been a while. What, were you sleeping or something Jessé?
All my efforts were focused on a single task. You have not needed my assistance during my 'absence'. Congratulations Jaime Reyes.
On? In all honesty, Jaime was slightly afraid of why the scarab would want to congratulate him. Suddenly remembering that the little blue bug wasn't the genocidal maniac it once was, he relaxed. After all, it was just a homicidal maniac now. But as the scarab didn't answer immediately, Jaime thought it might have gone back to whatever it was doing. It gave him some time to think about what the scarab had said. Grief - and acceptance - it had said; about losing the use of his legs? No, Jaime was at peace right now, but he knew he hadn't come that far in coping with his new situation. Grief about quitting the team - which he had barely just done, technically, and could still go back on - and never seeing his team mates - his friends - ever again? Jaime shook his head at the thought. He had accepted long ago, as soon as he'd signed up for the team in fact, that he might have to leave at any time. Good deeds truly never went unpunished after all... No, Jaime was used to being alone and not part of a group, so that wasn't it. The only other thing he could think of shocked him enough to cause him to gasp aloud, earning him concerned looks from his team.
He waved them off, creating a façade of a bashful Jaime, while his mind was working overtime.
When, and how?
That part was very important.
when and how had he come to be at peace with... with all of that? Him going rogue, betraying not only his team, but also the Human ace, causing a global scale invasion as well as the death of his own father?
Searching through his mind using the methods Nightwing had taught the team, Jaime forced himself to go through every memory to figure out the when and how of his acceptance. Although he couldn't find an answer in his memory, Jaime knew - he just knew - that somehow, none of this had ever been truly his fault.
He couldn't have done anything differently even if he turned back the clock.
Not sure how he knew that he had come to accept it wasn't his fault, Jaime found that he didn't really care. It was a feeling that he had needed for a long time now.
At that moment, Jaime felt like he wasn't about to break and shattert into a million pathetic little pieces, and he knew that he would somehow find the strength to face whatever challenges were thrown his way.