My perfect little world ended with the ice bucket challenge.
Literally. A bucket of ice splashed over my head, by none other than yours truly… "Jason!" I scowled, sitting upright in bed. Imagine my surprise when I found that I could talk! It had seemed so pointless lately...and I even forgot* that I couldn't, not without it coming out jumbled and weird. Apperantly I recovered while in my Perfect World. Looks like it really is perfect. Said ten year old grinned, and held up the still half-full ice bucket. I shook my head like a wet dog, making sure he got some of the spray. Cubes of ice still dotted the sheets around me, and I was COLD, COLD, COLD! I shivered, still only being in… ah, something not very thick. I'm not really sure what I was wearing, nor did I care. Just that it was sopping wet. And cold. Very cold.
"Geez, Dick, you're getting me all wet, too!" He cried, jumping back and, coincidentally(and somewhat ironically), splashing the contents of the ice bucket onto his shirt(to which I registered the color red). I smirked, snuggling back down into my (wet, cold) covers. "Serves you right." I muttered.
Go back to your perfect little world. Everything will be alright there, you don't have to worry about bratty ten year olds or the rest of the world. Just the blankness, and Not You, just existing. Not really mattering, just coexisting and floating there. Peace. Tranquility. Stuff like that, forever. Ignore the world, ignore it's problems, and you'll be juuust fine. Numb, yes, but fine. Who needs silly stuff like emotions, anyway? It clouds your judgement, and makes you do stupid things. My brain said.
But I had gotten a slap in the face from reality, and it felt real and it felt good(though, somewhat cold). It was colorful, full of life and adventure. Once, I got a taste, I just wanted more. It was kind of like an addiction, Real Life, because, once I got a taste for it, I just had to come back for more. And more. And more… It tells me I want it, even if I really don't, and it makes me happy. Thanks,Real Life, for your happiness in tough times like these. Now, please, go away.
But I was already getting up. (Noooo, arms, don't betray meeee!)
As a bucket full of ice and ice water slammed down on me like one of those buckets at Water Parks. Huh. Apperantly "Jason!" hadn't run out of that, after all. Cold. Cold, cold, cold! Got a blast from over here!
"What?" He smirks, mirroing me, no doubt. "Don't think you can escape me that easily, do you?"
Yes, but reality is much harder. "I was sitting up anyway."
"Sure, right." Jason puts down the Bucket of Icy Doom next to the bed. "And you say Bruce's brooding is heavy duty!"
I open my mouth to retort, but then remember...oh yeah. I'm not allowed to reconnect myself with these people. They left me, all alone, and I left them, sitting next to the hospital bed and realizing after five minutes of delay that it's the Heart Monitor that's doing that shrill beeping. I'll only get separated from them, torn away painfully, complete with screams of agony and ripping sounds. Like paper. not to get reattached. Leave the tape in the drawer, please.
So I flop back down onto my bed, glare at the multicolored ceiling as though it is it's fault I'm (we're) in this mess and mumble, "Not brooding." I could be worse things than a liar, and I already am.
"Uh huh." Jason says disbelievingly. "You've been coma-ing for almost the entire month now, you need to get out of bed."
Almost the entire month now? "What day is it?" I it's important, and maybe it is. Now. Yesterday, I couldn't have cared for it, having conviniently forgotten about days, hours, minutes, seconds, the very meaning of time and just existed. Oh, and now I'm tempted again… Nope, I tell myself, Just give it a shot. If you want to go away where worries don't exist, you can do so at anytime. But for now...just try.
"Tuesday." Was Jason's answer. How very descriptive. At my raised eyebrow, he huffs. "The 24th. Of November. Don't expect me to go on about the f-freakin' time, though, cuz you'll be sorely disappointed!"
But that was enough for me. Last I had checked, it was Halloween, and now I just skip over to Thanksgiving?! The next time I wake up, will it be Christmas day? I make a mental note not to fall asleep anytime soon. There's nothing worse than being sad on Christmas(okay, so maybe there is, but that would be exceptionally bad). I push myself up, catching sight of a photograph sitting on my shelf. How long has that been there?
I dunno how long there's that silence again, but Jason is the one who breaks it this time. "Alright, bub, into the chair. You're going out of this room today, no matter what."
I turn my evil RobinGlare to the despicable object sitting at the end of my bed, just sitting there, waiting to pounce. Getting in it would be admitting defeat. And that is something that'll never happen! "I'm not getting in it."
"You already did!"
I did seem to hazily remember sitting in one at some point, and freaking out, down the sidewalk. I don't know why I did that…. Why? Alright, that's a little disturbing, but I'm still not getting in that thing! I've already been, ah, hit(such three silly little letters, caused so much pain and change….), my future torn from my grasp, humiliated and so many other things. Getting into that chair would just be the final insult, and I refuse to go there.
Somewhere, it registered that I was being childish. I'm thirteen years old, plenty old enough to suck it and up and get into the damn chair!
"Unwillingly." I reply, even though I really have no idea if that was true. "And I'm not getting in the chair."
Jason doesn't know the significance of it to me, but he seems to understand it's important in someway, and let's it go. "Okay, but what am I supposed to do? Drag you?"
I smirk. What a great idea. I hold out my arms and say, "It's been a while since I've last eaten."
So, I'm okay with being dragged by my little brother through hallways, picking up dust that Alfred somehow missed, but not with sitting in a dark, vile, evil, m-ahem, wheelchair. Go figuire.
Tim's sitting on the couch, watching something on TV and it's so much like Little Timmy(what I've been calling my...Dream Tim) that I have a sense of deja vu. He looks up when Jason walks in, dragging me with him, muttering muffled curses, then back to his show. Like it's normal. The show is some sort of cartoon, made for little kids. Pft. Child genius indeed…
Jason just leaves me laying on the floor while he sits on the couch, as far away from Tim as possible (which confirms that this is indeed Real Life). "Thanks, Jay..son." I mutter from my position on the ground, dragging myself onto the couch. Aren't I due for some Physical Therapy or something?
The cartoon switches off to commercials and I groan when I see it's some 25 Days Til Xmas thing. I almost bang my head with a pillow, or on the coffee table. IT'S NOT EVEN THANKSGIVING...TOO SOON FOR CHRISTMAS STUFF!
"Hi, Dick." Tim says, pressing mute. "Nice to see you're finally up."
Not that I had a choice. "I'm still wet," I say, scowling at Jason. "And cold."
Jason shrugs. Dude's already immune. (code red, code red, he is no longer effect by anger, code red, code red)
"You actually did the ice bucket?" Tim marvels at Jason.
Jason nods. Man of few words, that one. I wonder what's got his tongue. Usually he is full of so much snark that sweet, innocent Tim has to dive for cover. And he was more or less normal back with me. So what…
The TV commercial reflects of his eyes. Ah. I reach across, grabbing the remote from Tim and turns up the was too quiet in here, anyway.
"Shouldn't you guys be in school?" I ask Tim, because it's weird sitting next to him and both of us just ignoring eachother.
Tim shakes his head. "No, it's Thanksgiving break." Ah. Suddenly, I wonder what is going on back at my school. Are there wild rumors flying around? How much work will I have to do when I get back, what? Will I ever go back? What about Barbra, how is she doing? Oh mi god, Barbra! I can't believe I didn't think about her...oh no, she always gets so angry and hasn't visited (I don't think so, anyway, can't really remember). And what about Roy and Wally? They were there last Halloween night, and I haven't seen/heard from them since. How are they holding up? Is… I bit my lip, suddenly aware that I was clenching and unclenching my fist, too tense to be considered normal, and that Tim was watching me with wide eyes(Jason was still entranced by the wonderful commercials...Baby It's Cold Outside played from the TV). I forced myself to relax, straightening each finger as though it were a sticky lever.
"Ah, sorry about that." Tim didn't ask, and I needed to change courses, so I plowed on through. "How has school been treating you, though?"
Tim's eyes lit up. It was almost funny to see how he changed from a quit, shy boy to a loud, excited, noisy, optimistic one when he liked/was passionate about something. And he was definetly passionate about learning. "Oh! Mr. Daramus told Principal Nicholas that I could move up to third grade, even though I was kind of small and that'd be scary," Ah, height. What a sensitive topic. I sometimes just wish that Tim would learn that he wasn't small, he was funsized. ",but they knew I was smart enough! We're doing fractions right now though, and that's boring cuz I already knew em all, and…"
As Tim talked, I found myself drifting on the borders between Real World and Perfect World.t was actually kind of nice, with buzz of Tim's chatter in the background and squished beneath their bodies. I was woken, though, by Tim this time, who shook me. "Hmm?"
Tim sighed, crossing his little arms and a pout forming on his face. "Did you even heard a word I said?"
No. "Yes." I blurted without thinking. Hopefully it wasn't too important.
"So, what do you think?" Tim challenged. Oops, looks like it was important. Note to self:Think next time(if there is a next time). After all, Perfect World was calling.
I said nothing. Tim uncrossed his arms, perplexed by my new reaction, and leaned back against the couch. He'd probably store it in his head to analyze later. "I was talking about Post Traumatic Growth, Dick."
Like PTSD, except opposite? How did that even work, except in the movies? And...oh no, I know that look! I groan, using my arms to push myself away from him and his crazy lightbulb no doubt going on above his head. "There is no way I'm doing whatever you want me to do."
"You don't even know what I was gonna say!"
"Doesn't matter. I'm not doing it!" The last time I did, I ended up with a broken leg AND cleaning the batcave with a toothbrush. The time before that, it was in the Atlantic ocean and I got attacked by NotPorpioses. But I had learned. For such a sweet-looking kid, Tim could have some mean and evil ideas that had never, ever ended good. For me, anyway. Tim never got punished.
"Just give him a chance, Dickiebird." Jason said, still staring at the TV, which was advertising… pizza. And cookies. From Pizza Hut.
I inched away from him, too. This was their master plan, wasn't it? "Fine," I said anyway. If it pleases them. Still doesn't mean I'll do it. Whatever 'it' may be.
But, just then, the door opened from somewhere down the hall and I heard Bruce's footsteps coming. Looks like Wayne Enterprises doesn't give out Thanksgiving Breaks. Which is Bruce's own fault. In any case, I was saved by the b-er, door. Batman had swooped into save me.
Thanks, Bruce.
Jason hurriedly turned of the TV, and grabbed the closest book, which happened to be Blood of grabbed a piece of paper(that just so happened to have 2nd grade level fractions on it)and pretended to be writing on it. Oh. They're grounded, aren't they?
"Hey, Jason, Tim." Bruce said tiredly, putting down his briefcase and work coat/jacket on the chair. World's Greatest Detective hasn't noticed me yet. "What are you reading, Jason?"
"Um…" Jason checked the front of the book, only to see blank. Then he checked the spine, squinting. "...The Heroes of Olympus?"
"I didn't know you read Percy Jackson." Bruce said, the sides of his mouth twisted upwards. You're busted, Jason, completely busted.
"Um…" Was Jason's intelligent response. "I'm-I just started reading it."
"Starting backwards?" Bruce raised a single eyebrow. To an outsider, it would seem the civillian Batman was at ease, completely fine. But I've been around Bruce(and know enough about human bodies in general) enough to know the truth. The way his lightness was too airy, too forced to be true. The practiced smile, the tense posture, curled underneath, like he had the weight of the world on him. "Face it, Jason, I know you were watching TV. And you Tim-" His eyes skipped over, finally catching sight to my slouched position on the couch. "Dick!"
"Surprise." I said dryly. You're welcome Jason, Tim. Now you might not get punished for watching TV while grounded(I've been on the wrong side of Bruce's punishments to know).
"You're up!" He cried, and it's a very sappy moment. Bruce scoops me up in a feat of such Batman-ness I'm almost startled, and he's happy, Tim puts down his homework(to which he's already completed long ago), happy music starts playing, there's a flower background, everything's glimmering and going in slow-mo…
Oh wait. The last part(s) are just in my head. It would be kind of weird, cool and freaky if that actually happened.
But, still, it's all happy and junk, even though Jason complains that it's like "A scene from a bad chick flic."and it is. (Oh, well. There goes my movie career)
"What made you finally decide to get up?" Bruce asks, (like I was just taking a nap or something) after we're done spinning in a meadow with rainbows and sunshine and rabbits doing happy dances. Blunt as ever. I don't mind though. It's actually a nice change from buttery-popcorn-and-chocolatey-goodness NotBruce I've been getting visits from.
"Not by choice." I tell him, honestly. "I'm still wet." I am so getting back at Jason for that.
Bruce smiles, a real, actual goodness to real smile and I'm almost convinced that I'm back in that perfect little Dream World. But, I'm not. I know I'm not because I'm not numb. I can feel. And reality is messy. And wet. And cold. Did I mention that already?
And then I check: Is it the end of the world? Nope, doesn't seem likely, or things would be happening rigt now. We wouldn't be just standing around. Happy pills, maybe? That would be more possible, but then who and how were another matter…
Maybe he's just happy to see you awake and alive, a little voice, the one that provided me with all the childish hope, fear, innocence, stuff like that, Insquashed it down. Batman, have emotions? No way! Besides, I already crossed 'world ending' off my list…
That all lasted one second, my brain can, apperantly, be as fast as the Flashes when it wants to. So I fake smiled back at Bruce's geuine on. Our roles are switched. Huh. Didn't see that one coming.
That only lasted three seconds, and then I was done plastering LIAR all across my big fat face. And then something occured to me… "Hey, where's Alfred? And Damian?"
Looks of panic were exchanged all around. Uh oh.
"Damian's in taking a nap." Tim informed me solemly, though I had a feeling that was only half of it.
"Alfred's...out of town." Bruce said vaguely. Again, only half of it was told.
"You need to save us, Dick!" Jason suddenly cried, ducking behind me.
"From what?" I asked, trying to twist and see Jason.
"Bruce's cooking, that's what!" With a surprised yelp(or something...I have no idea what just came out of his mouth), Tim scurried to be next to Jason.
"Hey!" Bruce cried. "My cooking isn't THAT bad!"
"You burned down the entire kitchen boiling water," I informed him matter-of-factly. "And you can't even cook kraft mac n cheese, or eggo waffles. Yes, it is."
"Alright," Bruce relented, and I smirked. Me vrs Batman, who will win? Me! "Pizza then."
"Yay!" Tim ans Jason cheer. Alfred is great, I love him, but he never gives us the basic things children need. Like, pizza, chili dogs, burgers...good stuff like that.
"C'mon, Dick!" Tim calls.
"Okay!"
I swing off the couch, ready to absolutely CRUSH them in this race, only to realize too late: oh crap. SPLAT goes me-e. I just lay on the floor for a couple of seconds, shaking. A stunned silence falls lver the room, and I feel eyes on me, staring, but nobody moves to help me.
Just...just when things were going so well, I had to get up andgo ruin it. When, when we were all teasing Bruce, I actually forgot to be bummed by the numbness and the fact that I'd never fly again. I know, I know-not something to forget I didn't mean to. It was just...nice.. being complete, if only for a few seconds.
What I thought was reality before was nothing. This was reality, cruel and harsh like-bright crimson dots across my fingers, vision blurring, not another flashback, not now, not now-like the way the cameras flashed the minute they hit the ground, and posted all over the internet, The ways Jason and Tim were treated before they came to live with us and how people can just be so easily replaced. I'm laughing and shaking and crying-I'm not sure which, or if I'm doing all three. I'm completely mad, losing what's left of my marbles, like the Joker and all the other crazies we (used to) fight. Throw me in Arkham, Bruce? Or just drag me down to the batcave to rot under surveillance?
'But this isn't his fault, don't blame him!' The little voice that will always worship both Bruce and Batman cried. 'It's your fault!'
Know what? For once, it's right.
.
.
.
/flashback/
"Hey, pst, Wally…"I hiss from the vent, observing the party from the stripes of the vent.
The bearded teen(is he supposed to be a wolf or something?) jumps, looking around for the source of the voice. "D-Rob?"
"Yeah, it's me." He's still looking around, and I roll my eyes, still unseen, wondering how he'd survive the life if I wasn't constantly there to save his butt. "Up here."
Wally looks up, and finally sees me. "What are you doing up there? I thought you were doing something or other with Bats and Aqualad." Was Wally hurt by that? Yikes.
"Yeah, well,that got boring." I respond. "I was-"
"So come down and join the par-ty!" Wally interrupts, and some people look at him strangely.
"No, let's go do our usual thing. I've already convinced-"
"Blackmailed." Wally corrected, which was true, but I ignored that.
"-Roy, and now all we need is you!" 'Usual thing' being egging, TPing, all that good stuff for the entire night, then going off to California to trick-or-treat. We do that every year. I try the puppy dog eyes, even though it's less effective behind the mask. "Please?"
Wally sighed, finishing off his drink. "You've probably got some blackmail ready for me too, huh?"
"Yup."
"Alright," he concedes, throwing his empty cup into a conveniently located trash can. "Let's meet in Gotham, k?"
"Got it, just gotta go change." And, like the amazing badass ninja I am, I disappear. Poof!
It takes me no time at all to get to Gotham, change into my costume(_), but Jason catches me on the way out the door.
"Where are you going?"
I spun around. Crap, not fast enough. "Hey, Jason."
"I asked, where are you going? You didn't answer!"
"Out." I say evasively. "Shouldn't you be trick-or-treating, or something?"
"I'm too old for that kinda kiddy stuff." Jason eyes my costume, and bag(full of eggs and toilet paper rolls, but he didn't know that). "And I thought you would be, too, but apparently not. You should be ashamed."
"I'm not going trick or treating." Yet. I consider throwing the contents of the bag at him, then running.
"Oh?" Something like interest sparks in Jason's eye. I disliked that look even more than Tim's evil-genius face. "Can I come, too, then?"
"I'm going with Wally and Roy." I replied, hoping to discourage him.
"Even better! Wait for me, I'm coming too!" Fail. Oh well.
Looks like we're gonna have a stowaway on this mission.
/end flashback/
.
.
.
I must've blacked out, or something, because I woke up back in my bed, dry and warm. Outside the nearby window, the sun was shining, birds were chirping and it was a merry time in general, considering it was late November. Somebody sits on the Watching Chair(the chair people sit on when they watch me sleep/be unconscious), and I rolled over to see who.
Oh, hi, Tim.
Tim sits on the ridiculously oversized chair, a plate of food balanced on my lap. He was just sitting there, watching, which was kind of creepy. But, he is a stalker(er, was). "Happy Thanksgiving, Dick." Tim said once I was awake.
I didn't respond, just pulled the covers up more.
"I got you some food." He continued, holding out the plate. On it was turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry, sauce, gravy….blah, blah, blah. All the classic Thanksgiving food, except XXL. I glared at it, as though the mashed potatoes did me wrong.
"'M not hungry." I said, brain slowly waking up and making connections. "Wait...is Alfred still 'out of town'?"
The six year old looked a little uncomfortable. "No, he's back. Never misses a holiday." Yup, that's our Alfred. "You should probably eat some."
It smelled so delicious that it woke my stomach up, making it cause war with itself. I pushed down the urge. No. No eating. Not hungry. "Or at least come downstairs and be with us." Tim continued.
I let out a bitter laugh. "No thanks. We all saw how well THAT worked out."
That caused Tim to look even more uncomfortable. "Dick…"
"No," I said, burying myself under the covers. "...thanks. I'm not hungry."
"Dick," Tim continued on, probably lecturing me about psychological benefits of spending time with those you love and eating enough(kid's too smart for his own good), but I tuned him out. I closed my eyes, welcoming the blanket that covered me like a warm, fluffy blanket. On the seashore. I was transported into the Perfect World in a matter of minutes, despite Tim's blabbering.
But, it just wasn't the same, somehow.
Aah! I really have no idea how to write young Jason(or Tim), so sorry if they seem weird or OOC. And the flashback scene was there because I just had to tie it into the canon. Yeah. That's that.
Hope you had a happy thanksgiving and all! :D
EDIT 12/3: Asterix(*)-And it appears everybody else did, too. Even me. Sorry about that, it's all fixed now though. :D