A/n: I am doing Whumptober for the second time! It'll be a bit different from last year (extra details in the series description on Ao3) but I am doing it. Should I be because I really don't have the time to and it's not a priority and will only add to my stress? It absolutely will, and i absolutely should not, but I am anyway. Maybe not one per day, but all 31 prompts preferably before the first week of November, but I'll settle for before December as a goal. We'll see how it goes.
As for this fic, starting off in comfortable territory with the batfam (specifically Jason and Dick). Quick warning just in case, there is a buttload of swearing but it's honestly justified because of their situation.
Today's prompts: Race Against the Clock, search party (implied), and panic attack :)
"Shit."
Tick… tick… tick…
"Double shit. 'Wing, your comms working?"
A few short, coughs. "No," Nightwing croaked.
"Triple shit."
"It's gonna be a pile of shit by the time you're done assessing our situation the way you're going."
"Nah, after three shits it goes to 'fuck', then after 'triple fuck' it's 'fucking shit' so there's still a little ways to go before we really gotta start panicking."
There was a pause. Jason could barely see his older brother in the dim lights but he could guess what expression was on Dick's face right now. The damage to his helmet hadn't affected his voice modulator but of course Dick had seen right through Jason's attempts to hide the slight waver in his voice.
Tick… tick…
"Jay, you okay?"
A stupid question in Jason's opinion. Of course he wasn't okay. They'd been working a case together when they'd hit some - a lot of - trouble and been kidnapped, beat up, knocked out apparently, and now were left to die. That bit wasn't anything special. That bit was part of the job; expected to happen on the worse days. No, what Jason wasn't okay about was the other bit. That they were essentially trapped and bound in a warehouse, beaten and bloody, a bomb in the corner, no hope of a rescue or even any indication that people knew they were gone - for how long even he didn't know - and he saw glimpses of green and purple with a red grin everywhere in the corner of his eye.
Tick… tick.. tick…
He swallowed.
"Names," was all he said.
Another silence. "Okay." Another cough.
"Are you okay? You sick or did something happen to your lungs?"
"I'm fine. But that's a good idea, injury assessment. We can probably get out of here ourselves unless one of us is actively dying."
"I'll do an injury assessment if you're honest."
"Will you be?"
Tick… tick… tick…
"Hahahaha, broken birdie…"
"Jay, can you see the number on the explosive?"
A flash of purple made his blood freeze. His breath caught and the ticking was so loud.
"Jason…?"
He flinched as the crowbar hit his shoulder, lighting it on fire with pain. The warehouse was replaced with another from all those years ago. There was a voice, someone else here, but his brain refused to listen to logic and it warped the voice until it didn't mean comfort and safety anymore - it meant death.
He couldn't breathe. The warehouse was going up in flames all around him. No one was coming. He didn't bother wasting his hope this time. The ticking and laughter kept getting louder, he kept getting younger and younger until he was just as helpless as he was then and there was no future where things were somewhat okay and it was just the day he died. The pain the same, the warehouse and bomb the same, the helplessness, the breathlessness-
Two things happened at the same time. He felt something - someone - warm against his knee, the type of warmth that wasn't from the fires around him nor was it possibly from that human embodiment of insanity; it was a familiar warmth that he wanted so much but so rarely got for lack of asking. As he was still processing that, he suddenly felt cold air on his face, lungs greedily taking a deep shuddering breath.
The fires around him died down a bit and the crowbar was gone even if the pain was not completely. Instead, there was a face in his, a familiar face that hadn't been there before. He wished he could see the blue in those eyes, but the white lenses would have to do. He could still tell that his older brother was searching his face for any indication that what he was doing was going too far, that he was allowed to touch Jason's hand and guide it to press against the blue bird emblem on his chest so Jason could remember how to breathe.
As the fire faded further, the real walls of this warehouse starting to be visible to him, he could hear the murmured reassurances that accompanied the deep breaths.
"Just focus on me, Jay. I'm here this time. It's… it's not like last time. He's not here, and even if he was, I'm here too and I would shove one of his stupid guns up his beaten ass before he could even think of touching you."
Jason's soft laugh surprised them both. "I'd agree to spending a whole weekend at the Manor to see that."
Dick smiled at that, small and full of so many other emotions, but it still made Jason feel stupidly better.
"You're with me fully then?"
The fires had gone out. The only purples and greens he saw were shadows and suspicious growths on the walls. The pain in his body was still there but he knew it wasn't from a crowbar; his movements making him aware of the injuries he'd sustained over the course of this case. The warehouse was one that had Dick Grayson, his brother there, so there was no way it could be the other place. There was just one thing… the ticking was still there.
"I'm with you. But uh, the bomb…"
Tick… tick… tick…
"I know."
"How much time do we have?"
"Doesn't matter, we'll be out of here soon."
So not enough time to wait for anyone who might be coming to help, then.
It was only now that Jason noticed.
"How'd you get free?"
Dick hesitated where he was untying his feet just long enough for Jason to take notice.
Tick…
"Tell you later. I'm gonna work on getting you free. Think you can walk?" Dick asked, standing up to move around Jason's chair only to have to catch himself on the back of it, giving Jason a glimpse of Dick's bloody gloves and wrist before they were out of sight and working on his bonds.
Jason frowned. "Can you walk?"
"You just gonna steal all my questions tonight? I'm an acrobat. I was walking on my hands at the same time as I learned to walk on my own two feet if I need to.
Tick… tick… tick…
The bonds around his wrists released and he winced as it jostled his very-likely-dislocated shoulder. He didn't waste any time working on his ankles as Dick limped over to the door.
"Locked. Not even a doorknob."
Jason got up, and the first thing he did was walk over so he could finally see the red glowing numbers on the wired clock, counting down from…
"Hey, Goldie. Think you can figure that out in two minutes and twenty seven seconds?"
Two minutes and twenty-six, two minutes and twenty-five…
How much time had Dick wasted on Jason? Had they started with enough time to escape anyway?
A bang echoed in the room and Jason looked over to where Dick had punched the door.
"Worth a try," Dick shrugged, half-heartedly. He was playing calm for Jason's sake; something he wasn't even sure his brother did on purpose sometimes, so used to having to play the older brother, leader, one to look up to in a crisis or any time. Jason knew Dick well enough to see that his brother was panicking, about their situation but maybe also leftover panic from the same reason Jason had been spiralling…
"I'm here this time".
And still they were stuck, sitting ducks waiting to be blown up.
"I'm sorry," Dick said quietly, resting his head against the door.
"Don't you start, Dickhead."
Two minutes, one minute and fifty-nine, one minute and fifty-eight…
"I'm the one who's sorry," he continued, swallowing hard as he walked over to the door too. "I'm not even trying new ways to die. No variety at all. Been here, done this already so you'd think i'd choose something else but- "
"I'm sorry I wasn't there the first time. I'm even more sorry there is a 'first time'. I mean, you know how messed up that is? 'First time I died'."
Jason laughed bitterly. "Yeah I know."
One minute and forty-two, one minute and forty-one…
Jason smirked. "B's going to lose it after he finds out what happened. Two times and this time with two of us? He'll include it in the Training Robins manual now. 'No getting kidnapped in warehouses with bombs. How to avoid 101'."
Dick walked over to the explosive and started poking around, but it was a solid build. They'd both known in one glance that there was no dismantling this.
No windows, no other doors. Solid walls. Soundproof.
Even if someone found the building they were in now, it would be too late. They'd need a speedster maybe. Or Superman. Bruce wouldn't have contacted either though. He hated asking for help, assuming they even knew they were gone, and even then, he didn't know about the bomb. Wouldn't until too late.
"I'm glad you're here now though." Jason started, bringing back the topic from before. "I mean, obviously dying together isn't great…"
Dick shut him up with a fierce hug. It hurt both of them because of their injuries, but neither dared let go.
One minute.
"If you're planning to try and shield me, I am bigger than you so…," Jason whispered, and Dick groaned.
"I will never be used to that."
"Me neither. But it annoys you so… that's what brothers do, right?"
"That's what brothers do, right?" "This is what having a brother means. I think." "It's a brother thing." "Try all you want to get rid of me, but you're stuck with me. I'm your brother." "I'm your older brother. It's my job. Literally in the description." "Robin." "Red Hood?" "Jay."
"I don't care. You'll always be my brother, Little Wing. No matter what."
Thirty-seven, thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three…
They heard a click, different from the ticking. They barely had time to think, let alone figure out what it meant and make a decision. All they could do was lock masked eyes, turn and…
Thirty seconds later, the ticking finally stopped and the whole room was engulfed in flames, spreading into the hallway, eager to find its victims and freedom. Two bodies were found at the scene, but by the time the police came, the flames had eliminated any and all evidence of the drug cartel that had been using that warehouse as a base along with the blood, tears, and helmet left behind.
A/n: It didn't quite come out as I planned, but I'm a little rusty and we're just getting started. I am busier than usual but I'll try my best to get these out as quick as I can. For now, I'm exhausted so I'm going to sleep and post this in the morning. Hope you enjoyed the fic!
Stay safe, take care of yourselves and see ya soon.
- CrowofArcadiaOaks