AN: Oh man… I know, I know… We're so so very sorry. It has been 8 months since we last updated – but this chapter is super long AND we're almost done with the next chapter too. And that, ladies and gents, will be the last chapter. Millenniumrobin and I really appreciate everyone who has stuck it out with us this long. And we appreciate the new people who have found us too. The feedback and reviews from everyone has been so wonderful – thanks everyone. Please enjoy!
Chapter Nine
Barbara swore. She let as many filthy words pour from her mouth as she could remember, and then said them all again in Vietnamese, Atlantian, Mandarin, Spanish, French, and Arabic, just for good measure. She breathed in as deeply as she could, willing herself not to cry, she didn't have time for crying. She let herself swear, just a few more times in Romani. There were several times she'd thought about learning the language fluently over the past few years, but something – something more than the fact that the Romani people were fiercely protective of their language – had always stopped her. That same something had not stopped her from picking up a few of the curses, however.
Barbara knew what she had to do next, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to it. In truth, they should have called Bruce hours ago, and she briefly wondered if Alfred already had, but let that hope go. If Alfred had called he would have at least done her the courtesy of warning her. Before she could talk herself out of it, Barbara pulled up his link extension – clearly marked with "For Emergencies Only" and hit the call button.
The second the comm link clicked on, Barbara began talking; she didn't have the energy for Bruce to chastise her tonight.
"B- the boys…they uh… I know I should have called sooner, but we wanted to fix this, and you were off world – so you said only in an emergency." Barbara despised the way that admitting mistakes to Bruce still made her feel like she was sixteen. The sound of his voice, always so ridiculously sure of himself, bought her out of her bout of self-indulged loathing.
"I know." Of course he did. "I'm already on my way." Of course he was. "I'm still a few hours out." Barbara detected the slightest chink in his preverbal armor. She wouldn't say he was nervous, exactly, more uncomfortable.
"Do I want to know who got a hold of you first?" He ignored her question.
"Where am I meeting you? Clock tower, the manor, or," he paused for half a beat as though considering, "The Watchtower?"
"Gotham General," she said, her voice low, but she knew he'd heard her. She listened to his control waver with an exhausted sigh.
"That bad." It wasn't a question, but a statement.
"Leslie thought so. I already had her patched through on a vid link. She's setting up the lockdown wing and a cover story." Barbara could practically see Bruce nodding.
"Civilian clothes then," he said it like he was placing a drink order, but his next line gave away his true feelings: "How many rooms, Barbara?"
"Just one. But Jay is probably going to need some stitches," Bruce managed a half chuckle. Jason and stitches was mostly to be expected. "Damian might need some fluids – they gave him something strong to knock him out."
"Tim or Dick?" He wasn't laughing now. But his voice didn't sound like Batman, either. This voice belonged to Bruce Wayne; the real Bruce Wayne, not the playboy billionaire; the father afraid for his children.
"Dick," Barbara heard her voice crack. She heard the way the tears hid at the edges of her voice and she knew Bruce would hear it to. It wasn't like this conversation would have gone any better if she'd been forced to say Timmy's name. But the truth was, everyone knew Tim was more careful. Dick didn't get hurt often, but when he did… there was usually more than just a few stitches involved. The silence on the other end of the comm link stretched on forever.
"When did he stop listening to you?" Bruce sounded exhausted and just a little bit afraid. Barbara smiled sadly. Even the Batman wasn't invincible.
"About the same time he stopped listening to everyone else." Around the time he left, she didn't add, although she knew Bruce was aware of how strongly it was implied.
"Of course. What details can you give me?"
Barbara paused with her fingers on her keys. "I can… I have the video…" she whispered. "I haven't deleted it yet." She didn't want to send it – because if she did, she'd have to rewatch it too. She'd have to see the blood and the pain etched across his face. She would have to see it all in moving detail – not that her mind wasn't still playing it on an endless loop in the background of her brain. No, what she wanted to do was delete it, permanently. To erase its physical existence like she would never be able to erase it from her memory banks.
"No," Bruce answered. "Just an idea will be fine." Barbara sighed in response, her eyes going to the ceiling. When she spoke again her voice was detached, almost robotic; a nasty habit she'd picked up from Bru – from Batman.
"Scarecrow and Bane created something they're calling Nightmare toxin. It's looks like one of Dr. Crane's old recipe spliced with the Venom formula. It feeds on adrenaline. They used Nightwing as a guinea pig." Nightwing because using his code name made it easier, made this nightmare happen to someone who was a hero – and heroes always come out on top. Barbara bit her lip, her fingers clenching the arms of her wheelchair. It was a lie she knew too well. She swallowed and tried to keep her voice as detached as before.
"I don't know how much of it was used or exactly what the side effects are. Red Robin helped Dr. Thompkins with a very brief and inconclusive check. Nightwing's pulse and breathing are erratic, at best. He also appears to have suffered some type of damage to his leg. I don't know what caused that." There were pieces to the story she didn't have yet, the lack of knowledge making her feeling completely useless.
"That's all I know." She didn't need to be able to see Bruce to know he was nodding. She bit her lip waiting to see which persona would respond.
"You'll be waiting for them at the drop zone, with Leslie?" Bruce – definitely Bruce –asked.
"Of course I will." Of course she would be. It was a question they both knew was stupid. He was stalling because he didn't know how to keep it together either. Instead of making her nervous, Bruce's uncertainty calmed her. For once, not even Batman had all the answers.
Barbara tried not to let her mind run away with her as the silence stretched on. She couldn't stop seeing the way Dick's body had been shaking; the way his body twitched, bloody and beaten on the floor of the plane. She did everything in her power to not hear the broken way her name had escaped his bloody lips, but still the fresh memory came unbidden.
"Barbara?" The sound of her name, said with conviction and the control only Bruce was ever capable of startled her mercifully out of her thoughts.
"Yes…?"
"I want you to know two things before you meet Leslie. One, this was in no possible way your fault; nothing within your vast powers could have prevented this." Barbara closed her eyes slowly, trying to let his words sink in. She hadn't realized how badly she'd needed to hear someone else say the words. "Second, he loves you. Despite every stupid thing he has done, and will likely do in the future, Dick loves you."
"I…" Barbara stuttered, her eyes flying back open with a snap.
"I'll meet you at the hospital. Batman, over and out."
Steph was trying. She was trying very, very hard, to smile. She wanted to say something that would put everyone at ease, but even she was having a hard time bringing the optimism. She chewed her lip nervously as she stirred the cream and sugar into her coffee. She watched, feeling useless as Cass and Jason maneuvered Dick into civilian clothes. Timmy was standing with them, waiting with a first aid kit in hand. She figured he was going to try and do something, but she had no idea what.
"One of you ladies want to hand me a knife? They took our gear," Jason called out, his hand raised. Steph reached for the pouch at her leg but Cass was faster, offering up several different blades of various lengths and sharpnesses. That was a word, right?
"What's it for?" Steph asked once Jason had picked his favorite. A small part of her was sure she wasn't going to like the answer.
"There's no way we're getting his stupid leg into his stupid jeans. He wears them too fucking tight," he answered, pulling the jagged blade across the dark denim as he spoke. Steph couldn't help but wonder if that was why Dick's ass always looked… well… like it did. She quickly shushed that thought with relief that Jason didn't need to use the knife on Dick.
"It's within the realm of possibility that we would have done something to try and stop that bleeding, too," Tim added, slipping his hands into a pair of latex gloves. "I mean we don't know what Dr. Thompkins is going to say… but…" He knelt down, hands working quickly to press gauze to the wound. Steph couldn't believe the switch Timmy could flip when he needed to.
"Let's get his pants on first, Timmy," Jason said, pulling Dick up by his shoulders. Steph did everything she could not to cringe at the sounds that came out of Dick's mouth. She noticed Damian, sitting in the corner. He wasn't doing so well ignoring the sounds, his head pressed tightly against the wall. Cass and Timmy, however, didn't flinch as they both moved to get Dick into his pants.
"Warm ups," Cass insisted, once they had succeeded. "With snaps." Steph nodded in agreement. They were going to need to rethink their choice of emergency civvies in the plane.
"You're up, Timmy," Jason gave as a response, pulling himself up from the floor with a groan. "I need a less bloody shirt on." Steph watched him go, stumbling a little. Jason looked beyond exhausted. She wanted to help him, to help someone, but she couldn't figure out how. She followed after him carefully.
"Jason?" she asked. He didn't respond as he rummaged around in the duffle stamped with a red mask. It was one of the silliest labeling systems she had ever seen: each of their bags were tagged with a different color mask. She figured Alfred had to do something to stay entertained. "Jay?" she called again when he didn't respond.
"I know what you're doing, Blondie," he replied with a grunt, tugging the clothes he wanted free. "I know you're doing that thing, that thing where you try to fix, but I can't." He shrugged painfully out of his jacket and yanked his shirt off hastily. He was bleeding from several cuts, and had some pretty gruesome bruises decorating his already scared body. Steph moved forward with a sigh. Without a word, she stopped him from putting on the clean shirt grasped in his hands.
"Just," she sighed again, flipping open another first aid kit. She ignored his protests as she started cleaning up the cuts. "Look, just because you aren't the most hurt doesn't mean you get to ignore yourself." Jason said nothing. Steph finished, loosely wrapping him in gauze before taking a step back. Jason held up his shirt, his eyebrows raised.
"You done?" he asked. Stephanie rolled her eyes with a cross of her arms.
"Yes, you may dress now." Jason complied, pulling the shirt down over his face. Steph didn't say anything about the half quieted groan that came from him. She knew she had just about used up his patience.
She located her duffle, the purple mask affixed proudly to it, and dragged out her jeans and t-shirt. Without a word she disarmed her uniform and took it off piece by piece. She could feel Jason's eyes on her body, but said nothing. Once she was redressed in Alfred-approved civilian wear, she turned to once again size up the annoying mystery that was Jason Todd.
"It's going to be a long flight," she said. "It's your call, but I know Alfred put sleeping pills in the first aid kit. They aren't the cigarettes that Cass smuggled you, but…" She trailed off, smirking as his eyes grew wide. Of course she had seen that exchange.
"I'm fine," he said finally. "Besides." He leaned back down to rummage through his pack again. He came back with a pack of cigarettes. "Alfred hasn't found where I hide all of them yet."
Stephanie seriously doubted that, and figured Alfred was making the choice to ignore them.
"You know you can't smoke on the plane," she reminded him flatly. Jason replied with a shrug and smashed the pack into his jacket pocket without a word.
"Don't tell," he told her, his body coming closer. Steph could smell the two he'd smoked earlier on his skin as he leaned over her to grab a pair of blankets.
"Jay?" she questioned softly, her hand reaching for his arm.
"Later," he said, his voice exhausted and raw. "Later, you can ask all the questions you want." He put his hand on her head before turning his back. "When this is over, I'll let you waste your time for a full day trying to get inside my head. Just not right now." She watched him go sadly, the blankets dangling from his hands. He made his way back over to where Tim and Cass sat with Dick, and she watched as, without a word, he draped one of the blankets over Damian's shoulders. Maybe someone would end up getting some sleep.
She was about to join them when a sound from the front of the plane, the sound of someone trying very hard not to cry, caught her attention. It was one Steph was a little too familiar with. Her eyes narrowed, seeing the way that Artemis Crock, still in her Tigress mask, was hunched over the control panel. Stephanie knew that there were things that she couldn't fix. She knew that people held on to pains that couldn't be smiled away, but that didn't mean she couldn't at least try to make this easier for the woman who had come with them.
She fished a spare pair of jeans and a hoodie out of her duffle and went to grab more coffee. In the Batfamily, Stephanie was realizing, coffee was the closest thing any of them came to saying "I love you." And if there was anything she had learned about Barbara's friend from the few times they'd met, it was that the woman could kick some serious ass, and that the caffeine would be well received.
"Hey," Steph called, slinking towards the pilot seat. She set the change of clothes down on the arm of the chair, ignoring the way the older blonde's body tensed. "I brought you some coffee," she added, trying to soften her presence. Artemis took the coffee, but ignored the clothes.
"Thanks."
Steph noticed how pointedly she was not being looked at. She knew Artemis didn't need to be paying attention to fly the plane. She wished that she could assure her that Dick was "resting comfortably," or whatever nonsense people said, but Steph didn't like to lie.
"I think you'll probably fit into my clothes," she blurted instead. "I mean, you're a little taller, but you'll need something. You can't go to the hospital in -"
"Stop," Artemis said, cutting her off. There was no anger in her voice. If anything, Steph had to admit it was a little devoid of any emotion. "Just don't."
"I don't understand…" Steph told her honestly. "I figured you…"
"I'm not going to go to the hospital, Blondie. As soon as we land, I'm going to fly this thing back where it came from, and then I'm going home." Steph studied the profile of the woman in front of her. This woman was supposedly one of Dick and Barbara's best friends, and Steph could practically feel the pain rolling off of her in waves.
"Hey…" Steph said, trying again. "Are you…?" Artemis turned towards her with a sharp jerk.
"Don't," she said, a death grip on her coffee. "Don't even try to do this." Steph tried not to be intimidated. She didn't step back.
"I'm not…" she started, pausing so she could pick her words.
"You were just about to ask if I was okay," Artemis offered like an accusation. She carefully removed her mask and set it on her lap. Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest.
"I could have been asking something else." She swore she could see the corners of Artemis' lips quirk up, if only just slightly.
"You could have, but you weren't." She turned her eyes towards Stephanie. "Trust me, kid. I have been asked that question far too many times for me to not know when it's coming."
Stephanie couldn't think of anything to say to that. Everyone had heard the stories of the hell Artemis Crock had gone through. She noticed the way Artemis' eyes held her own. There was a challenge there, but there was a horrible honesty too. They both stared at one another, eyes locked for what seemed like forever. Stephanie felt like she was being let in on some secret. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt nervously. She wasn't sure it was a secret she wanted to hold anymore of. Artemis was the first one to look away, her eyes darting upward. A heavy sigh brought them down, her gaze settling into her lap.
"Barbara isn't going to take this well," she all but whispered. Stephanie nodded and turned her eyes to her shoes.
"You don't think he's going to make it, do you?" She asked, not really wanting to hear an answer.
"I don't know."
"But we got him," Stephanie said, eyes still down. "We got to them. That's how the story is suppose to go." She was a little surprised with the conviction she heard in her own voice. Even more surprised by the dry laugh that came from the woman next to her.
"You and I both know there aren't happy endings in this line of work." Neither one of them were looking at the other now.
Cass watched. She watched everyone around her flitter in and out of uneasy roles and useless sleep as the plane flew itself back towards Gotham City. Back towards home.
She watched Dick, shaking and in pain. His eyes never stopped moving behind closed lids. She watched Jason drop a blanket over Damian and whisper "this isn't your fault," into the boy's ear. And then she watched Damian get up, stalk away to change, only to come back and keep a constant vigil by Dick's side.
Cass watched as both Tim and Jason fought to stay awake, only to have exhaustion take them. But neither one had an easy sleep. The both moved, and both woke every fifteen minutes or so – jumping like they'd fallen in their dreams.
She watched as Stephanie moved from person to person, bringing coffee or water. And she heard her crying off to the side where the blonde thought no one could hear. Cass considered going over to her, to hug her or hold her hand, but she figured if Steph had wanted to be comforted, she wouldn't have tried to hide her fears. She knew that Stephanie would do everything she could to make everyone else feel better, even as she fought to swallow down her own pain. There were too many complicated emotions going on for any of them to deal with.
Cass lifted her head as Artemis joined them in the back of the plane. Everyone around them was asleep. Even Damian had had to give in – likely due to the sedatives he'd been given earlier. Damian was too stubborn to have given in to sleep otherwise.
"How is he?" Artemis asked, her body appearing to be frozen in the doorway, unable to move any closer.
Cass shrugged. She had no real way of knowing. "The same," she answered. And that's all Artemis seemed able to take. The older woman gave her a nod and them moved back to the head of the plane.
The silence and stirring repeated for another hour or so, Cass perched on her seat, keeping watch over all of them. She heard the whine of the engines lessen ever so slightly, and felt the plane begin to descend. Artemis appeared in the doorway yet again, mask back covering her features.
The women exchanged a quick glance before Artemis moved to Jason, a hand running over his shoulder. Cass watched Jason's eyes open from a fitful sleep, his lips curling slightly as he focused on Artemis. She offered the smallest of smiles in return.
"Prep him." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. "We're coming into Gotham." Jason's hand squeezed hers and he nodded. Artemis turned away, never seeing the grimace of pain that crossed Jason's features as he sat up.
Cass was already up and moving as well, a soft hand waking both of the other boys from their slumbers. Jason's foot tapped against the bottom of Steph's to wake her.
She felt the plane descend lower as they lifted Dick onto a collapsible stretcher. Red stains of blood were already soaking through the grey t-shirt they had pulled over his body.
Each of them showed their nerves differently. Jason's right hand tapped incessantly against his thigh, where Cass knew a pistol would normally be holstered. Timmy checked his wrist computer, scanned Dick's vitals, double checked the time, turned the computer off, and then repeated the process over again. Damian's eyes never moved from his oldest brother's face. Stephanie was talking, of course, about... something. Cass didn't even think the blonde knew what she was saying at this point, it was just important for her to fill the silence. And even through the open doorway, Cass could see Artemis' shoulder muscles clench. The personal demons she must be going through...
A higher pitched whine caught her attention as she felt the plane gently touch down. A sharp hiss preceded the back door to the craft opening, and she gabbed one of the handles for the stretcher. The other older members of her family all grabbed a handle as well. Damian followed behind.
As the four of them jogged down the ramp, she saw Dr. Leslie Thompkins, a team of medics, and... Alfred waiting for them. Though she never would have let it show on her face, Cass was surprised to see their caretaker already there.
With a lift, which was accompanied by a grimace from Jason, Dick was placed on a gurney, and the medics started wheeling him towards an elevator. Dr. Thompkins moved with a speed that belied her age between each of the boys.
"Fluids, and a full blood workup," she said, shining a light into Damian's eyes.
"Rest, but fluids wouldn't hurt." Her diagnosis for Timmy.
"You need more medical attention. Stitches at the very least." Jason opened his mouth to protest. "I saw your face when you lifted him, Jason. You're doing as I tell you." Cass saw his shoulders slump in defeat, his head moving in a miniscule nod. Satisfied, Dr. Thompkins turned and jogged after the medics and Dick.
Cass heard the sound of the plane's engines revving up again. Turning back to look, she saw Artemis at the top of the ramp, holding on as it closed. Cass couldn't be sure, but she was almost certain she saw tears streaming down the older woman's cheeks.
The intensity of her gaze on the black plane rising up into the Gotham night was interrupted by a pair of arms circling around her shoulders. She instantly recognized Alfred's smell; a mix of strong, black English tea, and a hint of aftershave. Cass moved her hands to pat his, turning to offer him a small smile.
She watched as he moved hug Stephanie, the blonde throwing her arms around him in a bear hug. Offering only a nod to Jason, Cass guessed out of deference to his injuries, Alfred pulled the two younger boys to him.
"I'm so glad you're not more worse for wear from the accident on your camping trip." It was subtle, but Cass knew that he had just given them the cover story for why the boys had gotten injured.
A snort from behind her, that she knew without looking came from Jason, ended the tender moment. "Camping accident? That's the best anyone could come up with?" The derision in the older man's voice barely hid the exhaustion... and the regret.
"We thought about telling everyone that Master Bruce's wards had all been on Santa Prisca, but we couldn't come up with a better reason than unfathomable stupidity." Cass could only describe Jason's face as someone who just got blindsided, and behind him, she saw Stephanie mouth the word "burn."
The group of them, with a ragtag mix of fashions from Jason's biker-grunge-just-rolled-out-of-bed look to Stephanie's crisp jeans and fashionable t-shirt to Alfred's dress pants, turtleneck sweater, and corduroy jacket, made their way to a different elevator than the one Dick had been wheeled into. Alfred pressed a button to send them down, and when the doors opened they were in front of a nondescript looking door that simply said "Waiting Room."
Inside that room sat a redhead in a wheelchair, the closest thing any of them still had to a mother. "There's my lost boys." Barbara offered the three remaining bat-boys what Cass could only describe as a relieved smile.
"Hey now," Stephanie spoke up, pointing to herself. "Lost girl."
"You, blondie, were never lost. I knew exactly where you were at all times." Barbara pulled her in for a hug, Cass watching as her lips mouthed an inaudible "thank you" into her ear. Stephanie allowed herself a smile, one of the few she had cracked since finding the boys.
Cass' eyes followed Barbara as she wheeled herself over to Jason, delivering a punch to his arm. It was probably harder than she should have hit him, but Cass could see the mix of anger and concern on Barbara's face.
"Ow." Jason rubbed his arm slowly.
"That didn't hurt." Barbara's eyes traced up and down the second Robin's body. Her lips pulled into a tight line. "Get yourself some medical attention." A grunt to the affirmative followed. It sounded resigned. Cass didn't know a grunt could sound resigned.
Barbara pulled Tim into an embrace as well, her hand rubbing his back. Cass watched as his body practically collapsed into hers, the weight of the ordeal seemingly rolling off of him. When Tim pulled back, Cass could see the tears he was fighting. "It's okay," Barbara told him, a hand on his shoulder. "We'll talk later."
And with that, she turned to Damian. The youngest Robin stared defiantly at her, his arms across his chest. Barbara opened her arms. "Get over here, D." Damian lifted his chin, the staring match continuing. But Cass saw the boy's jaw waver, and then cave completely as he walked over and reluctantly hugged the wheelchair-bound woman. Barbara rubbed his back once and then pulled back, her face inches from his.
"We will be talking later, little bird. You can count on that." Cass decided that if a person's face could remain unmoved, but their eyes had a look of pure terror, that was the look on Damian Wayne's face at that moment.
The group of them dispersed throughout the room and elsewhere. Jason disappeared to get that medical attention he had been told, ordered, to receive. Damian absconded to a corner while Stephanie sat nearby. Barbara and Tim were engaged in low conversation about the mission, Tim gesturing with his hands as he described the operation on Santa Prisca. The conversation remained purely focused on the technical, factual aspects of the operation, Cass observed from her perch sitting on a window sill. Nurses arrived a short time later, hooking both boys up with fluids as ordered by Dr. Thompkins.
There was a short knock on the door before it opened and in walked Bruce Wayne, looking more tired than Cass had ever remembered seeing him. He wore a suit and dress shirt, but no tie, and it all looked as if he'd gotten dressed while running up the stairs. Maybe he had.
Bruce moved into the room quickly, picking Damian up off the chair and enveloping him in a hug. Cass allowed herself a small smile as, for the first time that night, the boy didn't resist when someone tried to hug him. He wrapped his arms around his father's neck, almost as if he was never going to let go. Bruce put the boy down, and proceeded to give each of the other bat-children in the room hugs as well. It was the most physical affection Cass had ever seen Bruce Wayne dole out.
A few minutes later, Cass remained perched on her window sill, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, but everyone else had moved. Bruce was sitting on one of the couches in the room, his arm splayed over the back, and Damian's head rested on his leg. The boy's eyes were closed, and Cass watched the slow up and down heave of his chest. For the first time tonight, he slept peacefully.
Tim and Stephanie were also asleep, albeit in a much different position. They were sitting in chairs next to each other, not like normal people, but turned so that they were sitting back to back over the armrests. Stephanie's mouth hung open as Tim's chin touched his chest, both unconscious to the world. Barbara remained huddled in a corner, still typing on a small computer on her lap.
There was another soft knock on the door and Cass looked up to see Superman. Well, sort of. It was Superman, she had no doubts about that, but he was dressed in a suit and tie himself and wore a pair of glasses. It was a terrible disguise, she thought. He was still instantly recognizable to anyone who knew what Superman looked like.
What happened next was what Cass could only describe as one of the most intense non-verbal conversations she had ever witnessed. And she'd seen Dick and Barbara exchange daggers on more than one occasion. Superman looked pointedly at Bruce and raised his eyebrows, which was responded to with Bruce's eyes darting down to a sleeping Damian and then back to Superman. The Man of Steel followed with another, even more pointed, eyebrow raise, which was met again by a death glare from Bruce. Cass believed that if the Batman could shoot lasers from his eyes as Superman could, the man near the door would have been a smoldering pile of ash.
After all that, and it really had only taken a few seconds, Bruce extracted himself delicately from Damian. The boy's head dropped to the couch, but he did not stir. Cass could tell that Bruce was grateful as he marched over to Superman and out the door. It closed behind them, but a curved mirror near the ceiling in the hallway allowed her to see where they stood just outside the room. She instantly recognized the third person with them: Wonder Woman, in civilian clothing as well.
"We need to talk about this, Bruce," said Superman. Cass could still hear their muffled conversation through the doorway. "We need to figure out how this could have happened. Why they're targeting your... your family."
"Not now, Clark." The Batman responded, his muscles visibly tight even through the reflection. Cass also filed away in her memory the first name of Superman's secret identity.
"Bruce, please. Let us help you, for God's sake!"
"Not. Right. Now. Clark." Bruce's back was to the mirror, but the tone of his voice told Cass that his jaw was tightly clenched.
"But -"
"No."
"Fine." Superman, Clark, sounded resigned to the fact that he wasn't going to change Bruce's mind at this moment. It was a lesson Cass was surprised he hadn't learned before. "But when? You can't let this one go forever. When are we going to deal with this, Bruce?"
"How about when one of my sons isn't in intensive care?" There was a thick layer of pain to the Batman's voice, audible even through the closed door. Cass saw Superman open his mouth to respond when Wonder Woman place a hand on his shoulder, lean up, and whisper something in his ear.
"Oh... yes. Of course. I'll... I'll get back to you later, Bruce." Cass watched as her adoptive father nodded simply. Superman turned to walk away, but Wonder Woman lingered for a moment. From his reflection in the mirror, Cass couldn't tell what, if anything, Bruce said to her, but Cass watched Wonder Woman nod with her eyes before turning and following the Man of Steel down the hallway.
The door opened slowly, and Cass saw a new heaviness to Bruce's shoulders as he walked in. He moved back over to the couch, sinking down and resting a hand on Damian's shoulder as he looked over at her. Cass couldn't think of anything to say, so she offered the best comfort she had at the moment: she gave him a small smile. Bruce returned it, and then his eyes moved from her to focus on the wall.
Cass didn't say anything. She knew they were all dealing with personal demons now.
It was far too quiet. The street outside Gotham General was far too quiet and Jason didn't like it. They'd gone flying past here dozens of times before, sometimes in pursuit of some two-bit criminal, sometimes after the Joker, but it was never quiet. It unnerved him.
Jason took another long drag on the cigarette in his mouth, finishing it. He tossed the butt away, watching it flip end over end until it hit the brick wall of the alley and dropped to the ground. There it joined so many others. Jason didn't know how many of what Dick affectionately called "death sticks" he'd had in a row, but he knew he needed another. Pulling a pack from his pocket, he smacked it once, pulling out another thin cylinder of relief and cancer, put it between his lips, and lit the end.
"Jason." He stopped mid-inhale, turning to see a wheelchair crossing onto the sidewalk towards him. Barbara's gaze flicked pointedly to the cigarette in his mouth from behind the thin frames of her glasses, and Jason could only imagine the lecture he was in for. Something about surviving the night only to kill himself now, to be sure. He exhaled the smoke he'd been holding in his lungs.
"Hey there, Babs." Jason pulled the cigarette from his mouth, holding it up in a somewhat helpless fashion. "Care to yell at me?" The redhead paused for a moment before her shoulders slumped. Jason could almost feel the frustration, the resignation, the exhaustion rolling off her.
"Not today, Jay. I don't have the energy."
"Yeah... I know the feeling." He placed the cigarette back in between his lips and inhaled as he stretched. Jason's mouth formed into a grimace and his eyes closed as he could feel his damaged ribs burn, but he ignored the pain. There would be time for recovery later. His eyes opened to see Barbara glance back up from his side where his shirt had ridden up as he stretched.
"I'm... I'm sorry, Jason. How are you doing?" The genuine concern in her voice caught him off guard. Barbara sounded almost motherly, nothing like the hard taskmaster that usually came over their... okay, his, radio as Oracle. He cocked an eyebrow at her.
"I'll live." The original Batgirl's eyes rolled, a slight smirk cracking her lips. That was the Barbara he knew. "Broken ribs and stuff. The docs patched me up." It wasn't that much of a lie. He had a mild concussion, five cracked ribs, and a number of pretty deep bone bruises. Jason had come back from missions in worse shape before, but it was as bad as it had been in a while.
"You've got to be exhausted. When was the last time you slept?" And she slipped back to motherly. Her mood had more ups and downs than the Joker's laugh right now. Jason shook his head quickly as he took another drag on his cigarette.
"I may have been unconscious on the trip home for a little while. The Batplane isn't really meant for sleeping, you know?" He exhaled and leaned heavily against the wrought iron railing near the building. "Besides, as awful as the hospital's coffee is, I've had enough caffeine to keep me up for a week at this point." Jason glanced down at her, a sad smile creasing his face. "What about you? I'd be my pack you haven't slept since Damian's name came up on your scanners."
Her short response didn't surprise him. "I manage." He expected nothing less from Barbara. She was a rock, or at least she pretended to be, second only to Bruce. Jason inserted the cigarette back between his lips before pulling the pack from his pocket and smacking it again. He held it out to her, only half-joking.
"You want?" Jason's eyebrows jumped in surprise as she took one from the pack and then held her hand out for his lighter. His hand fumbled in his pocket for a moment before flipping it to her. "Aaaaaah... Babs?"
"Don't tell anyone." With the motions of a practiced expert, she lit the cigarette and took a long, slow drag. Jason watched her hold the smoke for a moment before exhaling out her nose. Barbara looked up at him. "Especially not Dick, okay?"
Jason had to reach up and take his own cigarette to stop it from falling out of his mouth. "Since when do you smoke?"
A low chuckle escaped from her lips as she took another slow drag. "Some of us still manage to keep secrets, Jason Todd." She exhaled again. "My dad used to smoke when I was a kid. I stole a few here and there until I started wearing the cowl. Dick... he caught the smell on me once, and he flipped out." Barbara took another pull on the cigarette, looking back at the hospital as she leaned back in her chair. "I knew all the bad stuff it could do to me. So... I just stopped."
She looked back up at him, and Jason shot her a disbelieving gaze. "Uh huh. Babs, you didn't just take that like you haven't had one in years." Barbara opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes turned back to the hospital as she sat in silence.
"Hey, I'm not one to judge. I'm just saying..."
"When Dick left, and then I got shot... I sort of spiraled for a little bit." Jason had heard rumors, but nothing concrete. It didn't matter to him anyway. He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly. It occurred to him that may have been one of the most human things he'd ever done.
"Falling down doesn't make you weak, Barb."
"You would know." Jason guessed her response was probably quicker and sharper than she would have liked by the look in her eyes when she glanced back up at him. He shrugged it off, pulling the cigarette from his mouth, tapping the ashes onto the ground, and pointing it at her.
"You stopped though?"
"For the most part." Barbara took one last drag and then turned to put out her cigarette on the railing, crumpling it before flicking it onto the ground. Her eyes turned back to the hospital, hands rubbing over her own arms in the night air. For a little while, the only sound was Jason inhaling and exhaling off his own cigarette.
"Barb... have you seen him yet?"
"Have you?" There was a defensiveness and bitterness in her voice that Jason didn't fully expect. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond, so he did what came naturally to him: he laughed.
"I carried his ass through a jungle, across an island, and have bloodstains on my clothes that don't belong to me," he said, gesturing to some remaining blood on pants that he hadn't changed. "I think I got to deal with him at the worst of all of this." Jason watched as Barbara's head bowed, and he knew that his words had hurt her. He hadn't meant to, but he knew she was now mentally berating herself for not being there, for not being able to stop them from leaving, for many, many things that were far beyond her control.
Jason cleared his throat. "But no, no. I haven't seen him since the doctors took over."
"There was a lot of blood, wasn't there?" Barbara's voice was low, barely above a whisper, and Jason had to strain to hear it. He could tell she was doing her best to keep it level, contained. Long red locks cascaded over the side of her face, shielding eyes that may or may not have held tears.
"There wasn't... I mean there was some." Jason sighed and let his weight slump against the railing again. "Babs..." She looked up as he brought his hands up to his face, rubbing over more than a day of scruff and stubble. Normally he wouldn't mind, but now it just reminded him of the ordeal they had all gone through. "No. Can I be honest?"
"Aren't you always?" Jason ignored the snark, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. At least Barbara hadn't spiraled down completely. He took a deep breath, finishing his cigarette, before dropping it and crushing it with his boot.
"The worst of it wasn't the blood. I mean, I know his knee is pretty fucked up or whatever, but the worst of it? The worst of it was the nightmares."
"Nightmares?" Jason clenched his jaw as he stared straight ahead.
"The psychos found a way to put them up on the big screen, live and in color." His hands balled into fists, muscles tightened as the images flashed before him even though his eyes remained focused on the glowing hospital sign across the street. "The way Dick reacted, the way he..." Jason's eyes squeezed shut. "It made his old panic attacks look like a joke. And I only saw that shit once." Barbara stayed silent as his hands shook, reaching into his pocket for another cigarette and his lighter.
"I know all of us have our nightmares. We're all pretty screwed up, right? Me dying. You getting shot. Steph with the shit she went through as a kid. Cass's training. Tim and Dick's parents dying. I mean seriously, how fucked in the head do you have to be to put a target on your chest like we do?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Barbara raise an eyebrow, but she stayed silent. His shaking hands finally managed to spark the lighter. Jason stared at the flame for a moment, not lighting his cigarette, before speaking.
"I guess, look, I heard him have nightmares when we were in Europe. I knew they were bad, but he still wears that fucking cocky smile all the goddamn time. I just... I guess I wasn't expecting his to be so fucked up." He took his thumb off the lighter, letting the flame extinguish. The unlit cigarette still hung from his lips.
"You have enough demons in your own head, Jason." Jason felt Barbara reach a hand out and place it against his arm. "It isn't like you needed anyone else's, too."
His eyes refocused on the hospital sign across the street. "You still have nightmares?"
"All the time." She moved her hand from his arm, staring at the hospital with him. "And we both probably acquired a few more in the last 48 hours." A sharp laugh escaped from Jason's lips at her remark.
"No kidding." Neither of them spoke for a long while. Finally, Jason looked down, checked the watch on Barbara's wrist, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Go see him, Barb. If the mere presence of anyone is going to get him through a drug-induced hell, it's going to be yours."
She offered him a small smile, nodding and squeezing his hand before starting to wheel herself back across the street. Jason reached into his pocket, pulling out the lighter again. Before he could flick it on, he stopped.
"Babs?" She stopped her slow motions towards the hospital, but didn't turn around. "He's an absolute fucking idiot, but he still loves you." Jason watched the muscles in Barbara's back tighten for a moment before relaxing.
"I know." He watched her wheel back through the doors of the hospital, and he finally lit the cigarette that had been lingering between his lips. As he inhaled, he felt a wave of exhaustion sweep over him. Jason shook his head, staring up at the Gotham sky. His body wanted him to sleep, but his mind wanted nothing to do with that embrace. He knew the nightmares that waited for him.