{the mended bird}

-If you wish to preserve an old thing, human or divine, a code or a dogma, a nobility or a priesthood, never repair anything about it thoroughly, even its outside cover-

It was a deep, biting sort of panic, like a serrated knife slicing through skin and bone and muscle, the blade snapping against ligaments and veins and destroying tissue, sharp and cold and cutting. And it settled like a missing limb, a vacant feeling of loss and confusion and fear riling up and releasing in a fashion that sent his head reeling. The Joker, the Joker, the Joker, he thought, sickness churning in his stomach. The Joker has Tim. The Joker has Tim

"Okay," Barbara breathed, spinning her chair around to her computer screen. "Okay, let's… be calm. Bart, give me the details on where you were."

"It was near Crime Alley," Bart said, his voice thin. "Uh, there was an explosion there not too long before."

"Got it," she said, already typing away at her holographic keyboard. "The GCPD was just there. I'll send Starfire and Flash on it."

"The Joker's already gone," Jason blurted. He felt cold, and he felt numb, and there was something hollow in his chest. "He already has Tim, Barbara. What the hell are they going to do?"

"Find him," Barbara said, her eyes flashing dangerously behind the light of her glasses. "I'm going to find him."

"Before the Joker does something irreparable?" Jason spat, wheeling himself closer to her. His skin chafed against the wheels, spinning them too fast and sending his hand into a tremble of shock. "Do you think you can do that, Barbara? Really? 'Cause, fuck, it didn't take too long for the Joker to put us in wheelchairs. For all we know, Tim's a goner already!"

"Jason," Barbara said, her shoulders tense. "Stop."

"No!" He slammed his hand against his armrest, his breath hitching in his throat. "No, no, no, no! Fuck—"

"Jason, stop," Stephanie gasped, taking his arm. He swatted her away, and he looked at Bart. The boy was tiny, and his pale, terrified face was struck with utter horror. There were tears running down his cheeks, and he was shaking his head profusely.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so sorry, I am so, so, so, so, sososososo sorry, I—"

"Shut up," Jason growled. He wheeled his chair around to face the boy, his fingers shaking as he gripped his armrests. "Why the fuck are you so fucking sorry? Because you fucked up?"

"Well," Bart said, wincing. "Yeah, I should have been—"

"No," Jason said, wheeling past him. "Shut the fuck up. It wasn't your fault, it wasn't anyone's fault, just shut up. The only person responsible for this shitstorm is the Joker. And he should pay for it."

"He will," Barbara said. "In jail."

"No," Jason said, glaring at his stump of a leg. "That's not good enough."

"Maybe we should all just…" Stephanie stepped between the three of them, her eyes big and frantic. "We should calm down. We don't even know for sure if the Joker has Tim, we just know that Tim and the Joker fought, and when Kid Flash got back, both of them were gone. Who's to say Tim was kidnapped? Maybe Tim kidnapped the Joker, ever think of that?"

"Why would Tim do that?" Kid Flash asked, his eyes so big and fearful, Jason wanted to punch him. And then maybe punch himself.

"Why did you leave him?" Steph asked, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean, you obviously thought he had control of the situation."

"Well…" Kid Flash sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Yeah. He had the Joker down, but I don't… I don't know. Maybe I panicked. You're right, we should look at the other explanations. Maybe the Joker got away and Tim went after him."

"Tim's not answering his communicator," Barbara said. "But he still has it."

"Well, that's a fucking relief." Jason glared at all of them, feeling stupid and empty and bitter. "So you gonna track that shit, Babs?"

"Already done. Starfire and Flash already on their way there."

"What did you do, email it to their heads?" Jason looked at her, feeling incredulous.

"Don't be silly," Barbara said. "Email is way too slow. I texted it to them."

"Well that…" Jason frowned, and he slumped. "Makes sense, okay, whatever."

The door burst open, and there was a great, booming cry, "Boo yeah, baby!"

It was then that Cyborg came barreling in, a broad grin on his broad face, and he looked so pleased that it was almost jarring. The atmosphere of anger and panic broke apart and faded as they all looked at the machine in his hands. Well, shit, that was fast, Jason thought, staring at the strange, sleek looking mechanical leg in Cyborg's arms. He was cradling it almost as if it were a child.

"Is that for me?" Jason asked, staring at the prosthetic in wonder. Of course it was for him. He was just in disbelief about it being ready to try out.

"You got it, Blue," Cyborg said, his one human eye glinting just as bright as his mechanical one. "Check it out. This baby's just a prototype, I'll make a sturdier, longer lasting one for full time use later, but sweet little Dea here, she'll be good for your first go."

"Dea." Jason stared up at the man, his eyebrow furrowing. "You named my machine leg."

"I actually was the one who named it," Barbara said, not looking away from her computer. "You're welcome."

"Blue," Stephanie said, staring at Jason. He winced, and shot a look at Cyborg for the slip up. "Wait. Shit. You're Blue Jay!"

"Well," Jason said, scowling at the girl. "That took you way too long. Nice to see you again, Kid Clue, might I say that you have gotten infinitely hotter since our last meeting?"

"You're supposed to be dead," Steph said, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. "Like— oh. Oh my god." She looked around, and her entire body seemed to jolt in shock. "No way. That means that… that Bruce Wayne—"

"Congrats," Jason said. "Now you know. Can I try on my leg now?"

"Dea," Cyborg corrected. "And yes. Yes you can. Though, gotta warn you, it ain't easy getting used to having a metal leg. And also, it's gonna hurt. A lot. Like, we'll have to go into another room to hook up your nerves to it. Nasty stuff, shouldn't take too long, but it'll hurt. Might want someone else in the room with you. For support, you know."

"I don't need support," Jason said, rolling past Cyborg. Unless it's Bruce, he thought bitterly. He thought about Tim, and he felt the need to get that goddamn prosthetic on him as fast as humanly possible. Then I can fucking defend myself. And my friends. As Cyborg followed him out, Jason looked up at him, and scowled. "You know that blonde girl is an assassin too, right?"

Cyborg looked down at Jason, and groaned, smacking his head. "Aw, man," he said, his eyes widening. "Why didn't anyone warn me before I let my mouth run?"

Jason didn't know Cyborg all that well. He met him once or twice, but the big guy was pretty welcoming, and he seemed to know what he was doing the majority of the time. "I dunno," Jason said, his arms objecting from the strain of pushing the wheels of his chair. Four years of no activity had deteriorated his muscles. Severely. "We'll figure something out to stop her from blabbing. Wait, what's this about me being dead?"

"Uh," Cyborg said, scratching his nose. "Well, I don't know. Barbara told us you weren't, but to the rest of the world? Blue Jay was killed by the Joker. I think Batman did it to protect you, but Babs refused to tell us anything more than that you were alive. She was pretty shaken up when it happened, but… well, it was bad timing, I think. She was barely in her wheelchair at that point, and she wasn't even thinking about being Oracle yet, y'know?"

"What inspired that, exactly?" Jason stared at his leg, and frowned. "The Oracle thing."

Cyborg shrugged, shutting the door as they entered a bedroom. It didn't look to be occupied, considering how barren the walls and dressers were. It looked empty and inhospitable. "She's never been a passive person," Cyborg said slowly, helping Jason out of the wheelchair. It felt odd to stand, and his one leg wobbled pitifully as Jason clutched Cyborg's arm. He collapsed onto the lonesome twin bed, wiggling his foot and frowning. "I think she just couldn't stand being saddled with a position that uh… disabled her. She's always out to make sure no one underestimates her."

"So she ends up becoming… a computer junkie?" Jason watched Cyborg roll up the cropped end of his pants, baring his stump, which was rather terrible looking in that it was all healed skin, and there was the haunting idea that there should have been something else there. If Jason only glanced at it, an echo of what had once been tricked him. But when he stared at it, the illusion was shattered.

"More like and information hive," Cyborg said, smiling a bit. "She's got dirt on everything and everyone, and if she doesn't have info, she gets it. We're lucky she's on our side, because she could be the most dangerous person out of all of us with all her info. Her programming is great too, even I have trouble with it. Not too much, though." Cyborg winked. "Anyways, so I have to attach a port to your stump to connect it to the tech in Dea. This is the part that is going to hurt. I have to make a tiny incision, kay?"

"Do whatever the hell you want," Jason said.

Jason didn't know what he had been expecting. But he sure as hell hadn't been anticipating to basically almost be in surgery to get a goddamn base on his stump. And yeah. It fucking hurt. By the time Cyborg was done, Jason was wondering why the fuck he hadn't been drugged before hand, but whatever. There wasn't too much blood, and Jason had been through worse.

"Here ya go," Cyborg said, walking back into the room with a glass of water. Jason was huddled against a wall, staring at the metal ring attached to the inflamed skin. The ruddiness was fading fast, though. Cyborg wasn't a doctor, but he knew how to do this. Jason reached for the glass eagerly, and chugged down the water so fast he nearly choked. "I'm sorry about how hasty the put together was. Trust me, it gets better. On the bright side, now you can test Dea."

Jason stared into his empty glass, and he rested it on his knee. "How long will it take me to be able to walk with it— or her, whatever?"

Cyborg was quiet for a few moments as he held up the prosthetic leg. It was sleek, but now that Jason was closer to it, he saw it was a bit makeshift. Jason couldn't blame Cyborg though. What he'd done in the time he'd done it was mindboggling. There were a few exposed wires here and there, but the paneling over them seemed solid enough, and Cyborg was careful when attaching it. Jason's entire leg hummed when he felt a jolt, the metal on his leg connecting with wires, and he blinked rapidly, containing a gasp.

"It really depends," Cyborg said, taking a step back. Jason sat for a moment, and his entire body felt suddenly very numb. The space where his flesh leg had once acquired felt strange, heavy, tainted. He shrunk into himself, and he wondered if it had been right to want such a hasty replacement for a leg he hadn't really mourned at all. "There's lots of kinks to be worked out, but in the end it's up to you. Robot limbs aren't all that easy to control at first, y'know? But come on, give Dea a wiggle!"

"I'm really getting disturbed by this Dea thing," Jason said, tentatively forcing the prosthetic limb to move up and down. The bulb of the kneecap moved delicately as the machine hummed, and Jason tilted his head. He looked up at Cyborg with big eyes. "So for my next one can I get like, a cannon hidden in my knee?"

Cyborg gave a hearty laugh, and clapped Jason on the shoulder, giving him a playful shove. "I'll try and keep it in mind!"


Note: Keep in mind that everything I know about prosthetics I've gotten from FMA. So I had to take a step back and remember that this ain't automail. Anyway, probably one of my least favorite chapters? Not too much happens aside from the leg. It furthers the story but just barely.

Victor Hugo. Uh huh.