Jason has to do this. He has to help.

But he can't. He's hurting and he's wobbling and he's barely staying conscious, barely moving forward. There's no way he's going to make it all the way to the crate in the corner, let alone be able to open it. He has to do this, he has to help, but he can't.

He can't, not on his own.

"Dad, help," Jason says in a rasping wheeze, just a moment before his arms give out from under him.

Bruce catches him before he crashes to the ground. Measuredly, Bruce hefts Jason up, cradling him, so very careful of Jason's injuries, the complete opposite of the forceful and uncaring way Joker had handled JJ.

Jason wants to cry again. He can't, not yet, partly not when there's work to be done, but mostly not when his body is so worn and overtaxed as-is. He doesn't think he has a single tear left in him.

"What do you need me to do?" Bruce asks once Jason is fully in his arms.

"Over there," Jason says, trying to point even though his hand doesn't want to cooperate. "That crate, the 'fragile' one, with the crooked lid."

Bruce carries Jason over to the crate.

The crate is silent. JJ is silent. Jason can't see the kid yet, and he definitely can't hear the kid. Jason hopes JJ is okay. Oh no, what if the kid stopped crying is that he stopped breathing?!

"Open it!" Jason says as loud as he can, as urgent as he can, not that it ends up being very loud or urgent. So he says it again, starting to panic. "Open it!"

Bruce hesitates.

Then Jason realizes what the issue is. Bruce isn't sure he can open the crate without shifting Jason around too much. Even now, Bruce is so worried about Jason. It'd be nice and touching and all that if it wasn't totally the opposite of what Jason needs at the moment. "Put me down and open it!"

Gingerly, Bruce settles Jason on the ground, kneeling to adjust his position and-

And it's taking too long.

"Open it!" Jason nearly shrieks, his chest stabbing with pain along with his panicked thoughts. What if they did take too long? What if, what if, what if?

Bruce lets Jason be and stands back up. His hands dart along the sides of the crate's lid for a moment, finding handholds and checking to see if it's nailed down, and then he pulls the lid up and away.

Bruce stares down into the crate.

Jason doesn't stare. He can't see from his angle. All he can see is Bruce, and Bruce looks horrified.

Even Bruce probably can't see all of the crate's contents, Jason tells himself, trying to reassure himself that JJ is still okay in there, trying to let there still be a chance. It's shadowy in the warehouse. But despite the shadows, Bruce is clearly alarmed by the crate's contents, and that means-

Jason doesn't know what that means.

"Help him!" Jason cries out.

Slowly, carefully, Bruce reaches into the crate with both hands. His hands come back out bearing the child-sized imitation of the Joker. When JJ is mostly within the light, Bruce's hands and arms tremble visibly, almost like he's going to drop the kid.

It's not from the kid's weight. It can't be. The kid doesn't look like he weighs half of Jason's weight, and Bruce carries full-grown men all the time as Batman. It's not from how much the kid weighs physically. It has to be how the kid is weighing on Bruce mentally and emotionally, how the kid looks.

And JJ looks dead. He is perfectly still, limp and half-dangling, like some kind of toy instead of a person.

Jason's heart skips a beat in alarm. JJ has to be okay. The kid has to be!

And he is okay.

Well, he's alive, at least. "Okay" is probably saying too much for a kid who's evidently been raised by the Joker as some sort of apprentice.

As Jason watches, the kid's chest moves out, just a tiny bit. Then it moves in, just a tiny bit. Out and in, out and in, the kid is breathing, shallowly, but he's breathing. He's alive.

"I told you," Jason says, really almost sobs, in his relief. JJ is alive. Jason is alive. Bruce is here, and everything is going to be okay. "I told you everything would be okay. Everything's okay, it's all good, because now he's here, Batman is here."

JJ's body shudders at that, and his mouth falls open and his chest heaves and his head lurches forward, almost like he's going to throw up.

But he doesn't throw up.

Instead, he bursts out with a laugh. Scratchy, frenzied, and unhinged again, his laugh sounds like the Joker, just like the Joker, if not worse, if not infinitely scarier and terrible in a totally different way.

And unfortunately, even though Jason can't entirely blame him, Bruce really does drop the kid at that.