A/N: Hello all! Sorry you haven't gotten an author's note from me yet, fanfiction's story posting system just confuses me too much. I'm having lots of issues with it. My life has gotten a little bit hectic, so I may not be able to post for a while. And this is just a plot chapter, not too exciting, sorry. I've got big plans for the next one, though. Stay tuned! Also, because I haven't posted an A/N here yet, you should all know that this is my first attempt at a fic and all critique is welcome. And TheCatsMeow8562, your reviews every chapter are adorable and they make me happy. Thank you!
The second that Tim heard Dick say "We found him," hastily over the radio, he called Leslie.
Alfred and Tim stood at the waterfall entrance and waited with bated breath.
The car came through and screeched to a halt. Suddenly there was a flurry of motion as the car opened and Bruce, completely ensconced by his cape, stepped out. He ran to the gurney Alfred had prepared and Tim got his first glimpse of the renowned 'good soldier'.
He was an odd mixture of blue, black, brown, and red. He looked like he was wearing a suit- Probably the suit he was buried in, Tim's mind chimed in.
He looked cold.
Jason was silent, unconscious.
He looked so hurt.
Alfred's face betrayed his shock and dismay at the state of the boy. He ran to grab the heated blanket that he had prepared. Bruce snatched it away the second Alfred was in range and covered Jason with it. Alfred also carried a bowl of warm water and a washcloth, which Bruce also took.
Bruce knelt down and started to gently wiped the face of the boy with more tenderness than Tim had ever seen. His cowl had been peeled off, and Bruce just knelt there, quietly hushing the completely still child with closed eyes, bulging in his hollow face.
No one wanted to break whatever spell had been cast, but then the good doctor came in. She came in through the manor, and she gasped when she saw the mess on the gurney.
She remembered him. She remembered him all too well. Jason always liked getting into trouble, even before he was taken in by Bruce. Always getting into fights and taking chances and then he ended up dead and now he was here.
When Tim called, she'd expected Bruce had been shot or injured or poisoned again. She hadn't prepared to see the dead again.
She immediately saw the hypothermia, the malnourishment, the trauma of digging himself out of his own grave, but under the dirt, she didn't see the scars. She couldn't see the burn scars covering most of his body, the bones that had been broken when he went in to the ground and were now healed at odd angles, the y-shaped line on his torso, where he had been ripped open and was put back together to be put into the ground.
She got over her shock with a shake and ran up to the boy. She pulled off the heated blanket and got to work cutting away his rotted suit while Bruce stood up, clenched his fists, and backed away. Leslie didn't need to look up to know that he was pleading with her in his own silent way.
Save him. Please, he said. Save him.
Shadows.
Can't find me can't hurt me. Can't find me can't hurt me.
coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold
Warm. Smells like warm.
Fear sadness criiiiiieeeeeeeessssssssssssss
Can't find me can't hurt me.
Pain. Warmth's pain.
So cold
cold
coldcoldcold
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAnonononononononononon
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
NO NO NO NO NO NO NO
cold
Looks so much like warm...
It was about two hours later. Maybe three. Honestly, Bruce had no idea how long it'd been. If anyone asked Tim, who had been watching the clock religiously since Jason was brought in, they'd know that it'd only been an hour and a half since the batmobile entered the cave. But no one asked Tim. They just watched and waited.
It was an amazing thing to watch Leslie work. First, and with the help of Alfred's gentle hands, she cleaned him off. It was only then that anyone really realized how bad off Jason had been. The dirt had been masking the shadows that hung to every facet of his small body. Looking at him laying there, Bruce had to quell the part of himself that kept comparing the gray and purple form on the gurney to the dead boy on the metal table he'd put in the ground years ago.
Dick was trying very hard not to pace or do flips or do something. He didn't like waiting, and he'd never liked waiting. His anxious foot tapping punctuated the silence.
And then, after many IV's and much care, Leslie faced them. She hadn't said anything that wasn't an order yet; all of the men waiting scooting even further off the edge of their seats.
She began, as only Leslie could when confronting the bats.
"What the fuck is going on."
Bruce brought his head down to his hands and pulled back up, his hands trying to scrub the emotion from face. It didn't work.
"We don't know. We… all we know is that he crawled out of his grave."
Bruce was quiet, but intense.
"We didn't even know until a few days ago. I think he's been out there for a bit over a month."
Leslie nodded, her strong but withering hands on her hips.
"Well that explains the hands. Dug himself out of his own grave…" She looked back at the shallowly breathing boy on the gurney and nodded again, with less anger and more sadness in her eyes.
"He's sedated, for now. I've put him on an IV for his nutrients, just because I don't know what we're dealing with. As for the hypothermia, there's still some blood running through his fingers, but I'm fairly sure there will be quite a bit of nerve damage. There are distinct signs of muscle atrophy. His muscles are pretty much falling apart. Impossible to know, now. How's his mental state?"
Bruce looked away, swallowed, and answered.
"He… I don't know if he's in there."
He swallowed again.
"He was afraid of me. I don't know. He's just…"
He trailed off, head shaking, and looked at the sleeping child.
"I just don't know."