I cannot for the life of me find the Tumblr prompt that inspired this, but rest assured that I will add it here as soon as I find it. The prompt went something along these lines: There are side-effects to Jason's resurrection, which sometimes turn him more corpse-like than normal. The Batfamily doesn't know, until one day they find out.
This follows loosely the Arkham Night story and the Batman: Wayne Family adventures webcomic, but doesn't go into a lot of detail.
I love Jason. I love to hurt Jason. And I love when the little bats comfort Jason.
It's a one-shot. Might be a little long, but I needed to get this out of my system.
Enjoy!
It's cold. Way too cold.
That's the first thing his tired brain registers, his heart skipping a beat when the cold reminds him too much of that green, freezing pit he had woken up in, feeling half-drowned and… half-dead.
The ache in his sockets comes next. A harrowing pain in every limb, as if his bones were battling each other where they met. It's bearable enough - well, bearable for him at least. He's certainly been through so much worse. But the fact that it intensifies deeply on his shoulders bothers him to no end. He knows that they are fucked up, and despite the extensive training he has put his body through to force it to move past everything he has experienced, deep down he understands that there is irreparable damage to many of his body parts. His shoulders, especially, from being strung up for long periods of time.
The old memory jerks him awake, and he opens his heavy eyelids, swallowing hard against his dry throat.
He is used to being cold. He is freezing all the time, ever since he came back, as if his body isn't quite convinced that he isn't dead anymore, as if his blood is still hesitant to run through veins that had been asleep for too long.
But this cold is different, more insistent, and he knows what's coming. Dread builds up in his stomach, knowing he can't avoid the waking nightmare that will befall him in a few hours.
But he can't stop. He can't wallow in his misery. He can't take a night off. He scoffs at the very idea of it.
So he jumps out of his bed, grabs his cigarettes from the nightstand and walks decidedly up to the kitchen.
An hour later he is at the top of one of the buildings in Crime Alley, looking down at the empty streets.
His tall, built-up body is a menacing sight.
Below the red helmet, though, he knows he must look is nauseous and in pain, cold sweat making his fringe stick to his forehead. His lips are dry, and the pain in his joints has spread to his whole body, intensifying. The cold has reached a new low, and he can't feel his hands and feet anymore.
"Hood?"comes a familiar voice in his ear, laced with concern.
"Oracle," he answers, trying to sound strong, but his voice is hoarse.
"Are you alright?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
There is some hesitation on the other line.
"I know you hate it when I access your vitals, but your body temperature is extremely low, as is your heart rate."
He doesn't exactly hate it that Babs can see his vitals. He keeps them open to her for a reason. But he knows that if they get too worrying she will call the others for help, and he really doesn't want that. He doesn't want to see them, especially today.
"I'm fine," he says, keeping his voice low so he doesn't overexert his lungs which seem to have shrunk. He has difficulty breathing. "I'm busy."
Barbara doesn't say anything anymore, so he starts moving, trying to distract his mind from the inevitable fate that awaits him once he crawls back to his apartment.
"Hood?"
This new voice is highly more irritating than the previous one. He growls, choosing to ignore it as he pulls out his grappling hook to help himself swing atop another building.
"Hood, I know you can hear me."The hook misses the ledge, and he realizes it's because his vision has gone blurry. He blinks to clear it."Come on, man. We need you."
He takes a deep breath. It burns his throat with how cold it is.
"What, Nightwing," he bites out.
"Could you swing by the Batcave? We found some information regarding Black Mask. We could really use your help."
Nervousness creeps up his spine and twists in his stomach. Why the hell did it have to be tonight?
"I'm busy."
"Come on, Hood. It won't take long, I promise."Red Robin cuts in.
"Can't you just send me the info? I can sort through it when I'm done patrolling."When I'm done with what's coming next.
"You're going to want to see this right now. It's urgent."Nightwing answers, his voice hard and authoritative. It reminds him too much of Batman.
"Fine."
The journey to the Batcave is a blur, his hands gripping his bike in a death grip and his brain working on autopilot. It's a miracle he doesn't get into an accident with the way his brain fogs and his eyesight blurs and begins turning disturbingly green at the edges.
He can get through this. Whatever the bats want to show him can't take too long, right?
All of the bat children are there. Thankfully Batman isn't. They are huddled together around the batcomputer, looking at a blueprint and commenting on certain aspects of it. Tim is sitting in Bruce's chair, typing rapidly and moving the controls as he explains something. Dick and Steph flank him, listening intently and occasionally commenting. Cass stands behind them quietly, also observing the screen intently, next to an equally silent Damian. Babs is next to them staring at her own laptop. Duke isn't there either, and Jason knows he's probably asleep, since it's the middle of the night.
He stands behind them, reveling in the fact that none of them has noticed that he arrived. He hacked into the Batcaves controls a while back, so that it doesn't announce his arrival anymore.
"...but the men standing outside are Maroni's men, right?" Damian asks.
"Used to be, at least. Maroni was arrested last week, leaving a power vacuum. Anyone with enough money could turn them to their team." Tim answers.
"Why would Black Mask need Maroni's men, though? Doesn't he have an army of his own?" Steph mentions.
"Half his men died in Brasil last week." Jason speaks up and almost laughs out loud at the way they all jump, Tim and Steph yelling a little in surprise. Damian instantly glares at him.
"Jason!" Dick exclaims, quickly recovering from his shock and walking over to him to try to hug him. Jason steps back, glaring at him, although it's barely noticeable below the helmet. Dick stops awkwardly and lowers his arms, but his smile doesn't falter. "Thank you for coming."
"Long time no see," Tim says, smiling a little.
Jason can almost feel the way they are aching to hug him. He knows they miss him, he knows they care about him, he knows Dick wants his baby brother back.
But he can't obligue, even if he wanted to. Dick's baby brother died. Whatever crawled out of that Pit is barely even alive.
"I don't have much time. What is going on?"
"We spotted suspicious activity in the docks, turns out Maroni's men are transporting something…" Dick starts explaining, pointing to different sectors of the map, but suddenly Jason's ears shut off, a painful ringing taking over before all noise fades, as if he had gone underwater. He shuts his eyes at it. When his hearing returns, Dick is already finishing the sentence, "...Black Mask. What do you think?"
Jason swallows. He didn't catch anything, what is he supposed to think.
"What theories do you have?" he says, softly, thankful for the manipulation techniques he's learned. Counterattacking with a question that invites the other person to share their thoughts is the best way to hide lack of knowledge or understanding.
It works.
Tim starts talking first, but Jason's ears have shut off again, accompanied by a wave of dizziness so strong it almost sends him to his knees. He stumbles a little.
"-son? Jay?" Barbara asks, concerned.
The wave passes, his ears are back, the others are staring at him extremely concerned.
"Go on," he growls, pretending he is still listening. They look at each other, confusedly.
"That's it." Tim says, hesitantly. "Do you agree? Or is there any additional information you have that could shift our theory?"
He does have a lot of information on Black Mask that he hasn't yet shared with the bats. He was in Brasil last week with Biz and Artemis spying on the bastard, and got close to dying a second time when a few of his men spotted them. Thankfully he managed to kill them so word never got back to anyone. He knows the information is valuable, it will definitely either change or compliment the theory and time is of essence in cases like this… but his brain is spinning again. And now his chest hurts. Really hurts, a pressure settling on it as if his sternum has become heavier, pressing down on his heart.
The pain in his joints increases, and it's getting harder to hide his shivering. It's so, so cold.
For a second, all he can focus on is his heart, beating really slowly, getting squeezed by an invisible hand inside his chest cavity. He is thankful Babs has another tab open, one with some sort of map, and is not looking at his vitals at the moment.
"Uh… maybe it will help if you look at the blueprint up close." Tim says, and quickly gets up from the chair, gesturing for Jason to sit.
He suspects the younger kid is just trying to get him to sit down since he is about to topple over, but he is grateful for the chance to get off his numb feet. He wobbles up to the computer and sits heavily on the chair.
The bright, blue light of the computer stabs at his eyes and head and he needs to screw them shut, but some information trickles into his brain.
"In Brasil…" it's getting too hard to talk. His jaw seems adamant to stay frozen shut, his lungs feeling full of ice, his tongue heavy weight in his mouth, "...they spoke about bombs filled with Fear toxin."
"Fear toxin?! So they are working with Scarecrow?!" Steph exclaims.
He jerkily shakes his head. He had already considered, investigated and discarded that theory.
"They're copying him."The sentence comes out raspy, between gasps.
"Little Wing…" Dick mutters. The endearing name nearly rips his chest open. Little Wing is long gone, why can't Dick get it? Tears prickle at his eyes and he swallows very, very hard. That's another symptom… his emotions run rampant, more uncontrollable by the minute, as if trying to compensate for his body literally dying.
"Don't start. I'm in a hurry," he says, trying to be strong.
"So I take it you won't stay for dinner, then?" a new voice says behind him, and Jason's heart breaks a little more.
He turns to face Alfred. He wants to hug the man, but his body is shaking and he knows that the butler will easily notice that something is wrong. Besides, he is not sure he can get up from that chair anymore.
"Alf, looking sharp," he says, trying to joke, but his voice is low and shaking.
"Dear boy, why don't you remove that helmet? It's quite stuffy down here."
Even though he is freezing for other reasons and wouldn't be able to tell if it was 50º outside, Jason knows it's not true. The Batcave is always a little chilly. He knows Alfred wants to see his face.
Alfred wants to know if he is okay. He wants to see for himself how the child he helped raise is doing.
"I'm fine," he says.
"Ugh, come on, Jace," Cass says, quietly.
"Yeah, it's not like we're not used to your ugly face by now." Steph tries to joke.
But Jason knows how he looks - he's seen himself in the mirror in the few moments before it happens. The way his skin goes ghostly pale, his lips gaining a blue tint - and getting worse as time goes by, until just minutes before the nightmare his eyes become deeply bloodshot contrasting with stark, neon green pupils, blood dripping down his nose. He doesn't know how far along the Pit has gone by now, perhaps his eyes are still normal, but he knows he will still look very sickly.
"I'm in a hurry," he repeats, and it is barely more than a gasp. His lungs are beginning to fail for real.
"Jace… your body is freezing." Babs says, eyeing her laptop where the tab with all the bat's vitals are shown.
"I said I'm fine!" he says, a little louder, trying to sound as intimidating as he usually sounds, but his dry throat makes his voice crack and the ice in his lungs seems to stab him.
"Jay…" Dick mutters, leaning closer to him. His older brother lifts a hand to put it on his shoulder, but thinks better of it. He knows it is never wise to touch Jason without permission, especially when his back is turned and he is in one of his moods. "I know I said this was a bit urgent but everything can wait. If you need some rest…"
Jason's head whips around, his hand jerking towards the gun strapped to his hip, and the other bats immediately tense. A jolt of pain runs down his left arm.
Half of him really wants to pull the gun out and point it at the rest, but he knows very well thatthathalf of him is not really him. It's the Pit.
"I brought some refreshments," Alfred says, breaking through the tension as he gestures to the trolley behind him, carrying some finger sandwiches, his heavenly cookies, and tea.
Bile rises up Jason's throat. He can't eat. He hasn't eaten all day, but he knows his body will reject anything he puts inside his body until this whole thing is over. Besides, eating will require removing his helmet, which he doesn't plan to do until his back in his apartment, alone.
Alfred pulls the trolley closer, until it's right in front of him, and the others surround it, chatting happily as they grab the food and take a small break from their case. He should be annoyed, angry that they pulled him out of patrol to solve a case that is seemingly less important thanrefreshments, but all he can feel is a deep ache and longing in his heart. He wants to be a part of this, he wants to laugh and joke with his siblings, he wants to eat Alfred's food… but the despair that surrounds him and fills him is a stark reminder of the fact that he doesn't belong here. He is nothing but a dead bird, wretchedly brought back to life and held together with duct tape, scar tissue and the blood of the people he has killed.
A black-gloved hand swims into his field of vision. He looks up at Cass. She is smiling gently at him.
"Ok?" she asks, softly.
"Yeah," he sighs.
"I finally finished that stupid book, Todd." Damian says. "And let me tell you, Bennet is a pushover and an incompetent trollop."
"Trollop?" Dick says, laughing. "Your slang needs some work."
"Father says the same thing, but I find it's ungraceful to taint my superior vocabulary with blasphemy."
Jason smirks a little. Sometimes he swears Damian purposefully adds elegant words to his sentences to bug them even more. He wants to bite something funny back, but he is so nauseous his jaw feels weak now.
"It's a book from the 1800's, Damian. Of course the women would act differently than today." Tim says, smiling amusedly at him.
"I know that! I'm not an idiot."
Jason looks around again, wanting to grasp onto this little memory to help him through the night that awaits him. It always helps to clutch onto things that have made him happy. He doesn't have a lot, but the majority of his happy memories include his siblings. When his eyes land on Alfred, he can tell the man is extremely worried for him.
A wave of exhaustion washes over him. He is so, so tired. He can't think, can barely listen to the conversation… a sudden need to sleep overcomes his entire body. He can't help his heavy head from falling, his chin meeting his chest. He can't raise it again, he can't open his eyes.
Through muddy ears, he barely hears them talking to him.
"Jay?"
"Todd, I was talking to you!"
"Jaylad, what's going on?"
"I think he fell asleep."
"He probably hasn't slept in weeks. So stubborn."
"Maybe he has a cold or something."
"Don't say that. He wouldn't bring a cold in here with Spleenless Drake so close."
"Hey! I take offense to that."
His ears die again.
He tries to take a deep breath, but it feels like a steel hand is clutching at his lungs. Oh no, it's started.
He has to get out of here.
He tries to get up, his hands and legs completely numb but somehow still tingling as if millions of spiders were crawling beneath his skin. His body jerks forward, but his body is unresponsive, so he falls, pushing the trolley away and landing on his knees on the floor.
"Jason!" Barbara exclaims, and she moves back to her laptop. "Guys, his vitals - "
Jason swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut, his head spinning so fast that he can no longer move at all. He tries to tell them that he is fine, but his mouth is completely numb, too.
The Pit seems to be in a hurry today, it's taking over his body faster than other times. Or perhaps he is so out of it that he can't tell time properly.
Suddenly he is completely unable to draw a breath, his respiratory system at a standstill. Logically, he knows it will pass. Death will grip him for a few minutes before releasing him to his miserable second life again, but the panic in his body is biological. He can't help trying to gasp for air frantically, his hands flying to his throat.
Cold, freezing air hits his face and he barely registers that someone has removed his helmet.
.
Dick can only remember being this helplessly terrified once in his life, and it also involved Jason.
He can't bear the thought of reliving that. He can't lose his little brother again. Not again.
When he glances at his vitals in Bab's computer and sees how low his heart rate is, he rushes to Jason's side, protective instincts kicking in. A second later his brother is gasping, his hands flying to his throat as if he's choking.
He quickly removes the helmet. The vision is horrific.
Jason is completely white, blue veins appearing starkly below paperthin skin. His lips are also blue, and dry, gaping open to reveal an equally blue tongue. And his eyes… they are bloodshot in a way that would indicate blood vessels bursting violently, but the sickly neon green that has replaced the usual blue has no explanation. What the hell is happening to him?
Alfred is next to him in a second, his hands surprisingly steady as he prys Jason's mouth wider to look into his throat and try to determine if something is lodged in his throat.
"BATMAN!" he hears Damien's voice behind him, and he knows his little brother is calling to Bruce through the comm line. "Batman, you need to get in here now."
Dick grabs his brother's face, and even through the latex of his gloves, he feels the terrible coldness of his skin. No living human can be this cold.
Blood is dripping from his nose and ears, and his body begins shaking way too hard.
"Jason! Jason, wake up, please. Jason!" Dick calls, frantically. "Please, not again, come on."
"Robin, I can't. I'm heading to - "
"Batman!" he hears Damian, a sob ripping through his throat. "Ja - Red Hood, he…"
Stephanie has brought weighted blankets and gloves, and she wraps them around Jason, rubbing his arms and hands to try to get him warm, to get his circulation going again.
Jason's eyes close, the shivering stops.
"Jason!" Barbara sobs, her wide eyes frozen on the screen. It shows that his heart has stopped.
"NO! JASON!" Dick screams, and moves him so he is lying down, ready to perform CPR.
Alfred pushes him back as he positions to perform the CPR himself. "Bring the defibrillator, oxygen mask, epinephrine" he commands, his voice trembling in a way Dick has only heard once.
Cass is the one who obeys, running towards the medical corner.
"Please Jay, not again, please, please, please. Please, Little Wing."
Tim is horribly reminded of those dark days when he first joined Bruce and Damian, when they were still mourning Jason's death. Dick sounds equally heartbroken and scared as before, clutching Jason's hand for dear life as Alfred continues pressing on his chest.
Cass drops the items next to them and begins preparing the needle expertly.
The batmobile suddenly rips into the batcave, brakes squealing. Bruce all but jumps from the passenger seat, ripping his cowl off as he skids to a halt next to them and lands on his knees beside Dick.
"Son," he says shakily, breathily. His eyes immediately fill with tears. Jason looks completely dead. He's not breathing. His heart is not beating. "Jason, come on, please, son, please, not like this, not again, please"
"CLEAR!" Alfred shouts, lifting the defibrillator pads.
But right before he can put them on Jason, a harsh, painful gasp rips through the boy.
They all stand still for a moment, in complete shock.
Another gasp, equally painful. A strangled cough.
"JASON!" both Bruce and Dick yell, the former grabbing his son by the shoulders. "Jason, please, wake up."
He gasps again, in a way that sounds like his lungs have collapsed. Alfred leaves the defibrillator aside and immediately grabs the oxygen mask, putting it over Jason's face. The boy starts breathing quickly.
"Little Wing," Dick mutters, brushing the white strand from his brother's face. Color is slowly returning to him, despite his skin still being ice cold. "Open your eyes, come on."
A sob rips out of Barbara as she looks at the vitals again. "He's alive."
Next to her, the others are also crying. Despite their tragic, troubled pasts and the many, many,manytimes they have faced near-certain death, they had never felt more helpless or useless in their entire lives.
"He's so cold." Dick says, and realizes that he is also sobbing.
"What happened?" Bruce demands, gripping control of himself again as he watches Jason's lips change color, his body shaking a little, which is much better than the corpse-like stillness of before. Despite the blood on his face and ears, there are no bruises and no more blood on his clothes, so it's not a visible injury.
"W-we don't know." Tim speaks up, cleaning his tears.
"He was sick," Barbara says, her voice shaking, her eyes still glued to his vitals. "I checked on him earlier, and his body was too cold, his heart too weak. I-I asked him if he was okay and he said yes a-and then Dick suggested calling him to help with the case so I figured…"
"It's not your fault, Babs. He's always been stubborn." Steph answers, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Help me bring him to the medical table. We need to check for injuries." Alfred says.
Bruce hooks his arms under his neck and knees, lifting him up. His heart clenches. Despite everything that has happened between them, he can't lose Jason again. That's his little boy. He might be grown, tall, hulking… but to Bruce, he's still his baby Jay.
"I don't think it's an injury." Cass says behind them. "He was in pain, for sure, his whole posture said as much, but it didn't look like he was particularly favoring any of his sides or protecting a wound. Besides, what kind of injury would do that to somebody's eyes?"
It's not usual to hear her talking so much, but it's the last bit that confuses Bruce. He lifts Jason's eyelids, and gasps at the deep red and neon green.
Despite Cass's words, he helps moving him around as Alfred removes the blankets and heavy jacket. Jason's body shakes even more and he moans slightly.
"Father, it looked like he died." Damian comments, his voice shaking.
He looks every bit like the little kid he is, scared and concerned, his voice tiny and pleading, his eyes looking for his father's reassurance. It's weird to see Damian like this, and it tears at all of their hearts.
"I know, son. But he's okay. He'll be alright."
Jason moans again and coughs. An eye opens weakly, and the blue is back, the sclera still red but not as deep as before.
"Master Jason," Alfred says, hesitatingly, a hand hovering over the boy's forehead before it moves to remove the oxygen mask. He doesn't know if he should continue undressing him to check for injuries, or cover him in thick blankets so he can get some more heat into his body.
The metal melting through the layers of his skin is one of the most horrid, monstrous pains he's ever felt in his life. It's worse than the crowbar pulverizing his bones, worse than the ongoing beatings, worse than the electrocution, and the burning, and the flaying.
It comes with the emotional onslaught of knowing that this will remain etched on his face forever. He will always carry his enemy's name on his fucking face, disfiguring him and turning him into nothing more that a ruined pet owned by the most sadistic freak on the planet.
The memory jerks his brain awake in a panic, and he wants to scream at the pain of his body trying to crawl back to the land of the living, but he is still unable to draw a breath and a simple moan escapes him, then he falls into unconsciousness again.
Half a minute later, his brain groggily wakes up once more. This time it's more peaceful, but equally miserable.
Jason's head is still spinning, he's still cold and his body is still hurting, but at least he can breathe. His body is slowly returning back to life, like bulbs slowly turning on in a long hallway. His heart speeds up, which is a common reaction once he wakes up, like trying to make up for the time it stayed still. The numbness slowly leaves his body, and he can move his hands and legs again, but he doesn't want to.
His vision clears, no longer tinted green, and there is saliva in his mouth again.
His lungs slowly stretch.
He sees… Bruce.
Shit.
He really, really didn't want Bruce to see him like this. Let alone the rest of his batkids.
"Jay, please, say something." Dick pleads.
"Alright…" he manages to say, even though the words tear through previously frozen vocal chords. "I'm here."
Dick throws all caution to the wind and leaps at him, hugging him tightly, choking back sobs. "Oh, thank God, thank God… Oh, you're okay, you're okay, Little Wing. You're okay."
Hesitantly, Jason hugs back. His emotions are still explosive, and he is unable to fight back. He does want to cling to his big brother as he slowly returns from the terrifying experience of being dead. Besides, he knows it's not over yet, and that knowledge fills him with dread.
"I know I am," he quips, his voice a whisper. Dick laughs through tears.
Tim is the next to approach him, also joining the hug.
Then Babs. Then Steph. Then Cass. Tim pulls Damian close and the little boy joins the hug, apparently against his will, but there is a relieved smile on his face.
"Okay, you're going to kill me all over again," Jason groans, and they release the hug, all tears and sniffs and watery smiles.
To everyone's surprise, Bruce is next, as he leaps at Jason and hugs him tightly, his mouth pressed to the crown of his head.
"My son. You scared us."
Jason swallows hard, his eyes swimming with tears as his emotions are still raw and uncontrollable. He hugs him back. Alfred's gentle hand cards through his hair, and he closes his eyes.
He knows he will be angry at himself when this whole thing passes and he is back to the current Jason Todd, but for now he can't be bothered to pull away. He needs this, has needed this for such a long time.
"What was that, Jase?" Tim asks, eyebrows furrowed. Bruce leans back to give him some space.
He swallows.
"I'm not sure. It's been happening ever since… ever since I came back. It's like the Lazarus Pit regrets bringing me back. Like-like it wants to take me back under," he shudders. "Every so often, I start feeling weird and then… I die."
"And then you come back." Babs said.
Jason eyes her and shrugs slightly.
"Sort of," he whispers. "It's not over. It… It will last all night. I will die a few times throughout the night. For a minute or two. And then I'll return. And in the morning I… it will stop."
"Oh, dear God." Alfred says, grabbing his hand. "My dear boy, why have you never come here when this has happened to you?"
"Because he is all-mighty, I-work-alone, I-don't-need-help, Red Hood." Damian says, bitterly, back to his normal, tiny-ball-of-hatred self.
Jason smiles, wanting to laugh, but his body is losing its dwindling strength again.
Dick's heart is ripping apart again. How many times has Jason gone through this horrible, terrifying experience, all alone? How scared must he have been every single time? How terrified must he have felt the very first time? How painful and difficult had it been to shove all of that fear and pain deep down and never mention it again, only to relive it over and over?
Jason looks at him and seems to read his mind.
"I'm not always alone," he says softly. "Roy and Art and Biz… sometimes they are there."
"And sometimes they are not and you go through this hell cooped up in an apartment or a safe house." Steph says, crossing her arms.
"Is it a scheduled thing? Like, does it happen once a month?" Tim inquires.
"I'm not a werewolf, Tim," he says, tiredly. "And no. It doesn't have a schedule."
The coldness is returning, and he must be turning pale again because they all look incredibly concerned. He closes his eyes. His chest is tightening again, the nausea returning, his vision blurring.
Babs has returned to her laptop. "It's starting again, isn't it?" she mutters as she watches his vital levels changing.
He nodds jerkily.
A strong hand grabs his own, and he knows it's Bruces. A lonely little boy trapped in Arkham's basement cries with joy deep inside his head. God, how he missed Bruce. How he still misses him. He misses everything.
A small sob tears through his throat, his brain splitting in two. The nightmares always accompany his episodes. He is forced to relive the last few days before his death, as if the Pit knew where it hurt the most and was intent on dragging him back to hell. As if the experience of dying wasn't painful enough, terrifying enough, didn't make him want to stay dead enough. For a moment, his eyes only register the bloodied, grey floor of Arkham, the edges of his vision green.
"Son," Bruce says, "Jaylad."
Jason looks at him, feeling exhausted.
Bruce's heart is at its limit, his chest feeling like someone has cracked it open and carved everything out, leaving a gaping wound. Jason is so young, and he has gone through so much… It's hard to forget it, what with the boy being tall and built like a fridge, and almost always dressed in armor and leather, covered in guns, face hidden behind a terrifying red helmet or mask… but right now, he looks every bit as young as he truly is, and he looks exhausted and in pain and terrified.
"My boy, I don't know what is happening to you or how to fix it. But we will be here. You are not alone. We're here. We'll be here tonight, and every other night you need us, to accompany you through this," he vows.
Jason nods, and he feels more tears and sobs coming, but his throat is closing up again, his body is going numb, and he can't do anything anymore.
.
The night is long and horrible for all of them.
Batman calls Superman and Wonder Woman to cover for him in the mission he was going to before, and they gladly accept. He and Alfred never leave Jason's side. They have moved him to his old room, which is warmer and more comfortable than the Batcave.
The bat children go out on patrol in turns, none of them lasting more than a couple of hours before frantically returning to check on their brother.
Tim, Dick and Barbara try to split between patrol turns, Jason, and the case; but soon they decide to leave Black Mask for another day. They will catch him soon. Right now, Jason is more important.
The boy is mostly unconscious (dead), only waking up a few times with dizzy eyes, looking around to find his family with him, before he succumbs to it again. He never lasts more than a few minutes awake, and every time he wakes he seems more out of it; the "dead spells", as they have resorted to calling them, getting longer and more terrifying each time.
It's awful to see his body freezing and rigid, sometimes a limb sticking out or jerking in what can only be rigor mortis. Blood flows from his nose and ears each time, and a few times from the corners of his mouth and eyes. His lips are blue, as are his hands and feet. And every time, he goes under after hacking, and gasping and literally choking as his respiratory system gives up on him over and over again.
They keep him wrapped in electric blankets, hot water pouches below him on the mattress, the oxygen mask on his face to ease him through it. They keep him in a saline drip, and talk to him in hushed voices, reassuring him, humming to him, not knowing if he can hear them or not but trying nonetheless. For a moment, Alfred considers administering morphine, but he has no idea how his dying body would react, so he refrains from it.
A few times, when he comes back, he comes back with a short scream, or terrifying sobs, pleading for mercy. One of those times, he mentions the Joker, one time he says "please don't burn me again", another "not the crowbar, please, not the crowbar", and they understand that terrifying nightmares accompany this horrible thing.
They all cry at this revelation, Dick and Tim having to leave the room as terrible flashbacks attack them both.
Bruce especially feels guilt and pain weighing down on him. The old, never-healed wound that got ripped open in Arkham hurting all over again. He will never be able to forgive himself for not finding Jason in time.
.
Finally, the first lights of day break through the horizon.
They have all finished patrol early, and thankfully the night was calm. Someone had gone to wake Duke and told him everything, and the boy is standing at the door. He doesn't feel a part of this as much as the others, but he still cares about Jason.
A shuddering gasp tears through Jason's throat. A hard swallow.
The color has returned to his face stronger than before, and sweat breaks through his forehead, something that had not been present before.
"Jay?" Dick asks.
He moans before opening his eyes. They are back to normal, albeit a little red. He turns his head a little.
He has a headache. In fact, his entire body aches, but he knows it's over. He can breathe again, and the coldness is slowly receding.
"Hey," he whispers.
A similar scene to the previous one unfolds, with Dick launching himself at him followed by the other siblings. Jason coughs weekly and they give him space, before Bruce leans down as well.
"You're okay, you're okay, little bird, you're okay."
Jason hasn't been called little bird in years. If he wasn't so exhausted, he would cry. The fact that he doesn't tells him that the clarity is returning to him, and he is slowly gaining control of his emotions. Bruce leans back, but still grabs his hand.
"It's over," Jason mutters, smiling shakily.
"Oh, thank God," Steph mutters, sighing deeply.
"What do you want, my dear boy?" Alfred chirps up. "I'll cook anything you ask. Nothing is out of the question."
Jason lets out a tired laugh, wanting to tease Alfred with something disgusting, but as his body starts working again, the hunger in his empty stomach makes itself known.
"Chocolate chip pancakes and chili dogs," he blurts out.
"Chili dogs are not a breakfast food, Todd." Damian complains.
"Um, did you not hear the man? Nothing is out of the question, runt." Stephanie says, glaring at him. She loves chili dogs, too.
Jason looks at Damian and a knot forms in his throat. His face is blotchy. He's been crying.
"Satan sends his regards, little spawn." he jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
The others laugh, even Bruce and Alfred before they both look at him reproachingly.
"Alright, all of you, follow me. You will all aid me in preparing Master Jason his back-from-the-dead breakfast."
"Is that a thing? Because then you owe me one, Alfred!" Damian complains as he rushes behind the butler.
The other bat kids follow, laughing. Bruce stays behind.
"Jason," he begins.
"I'm okay, B."
Despite the horrible night, his body is quick to recover. He is still cold and weak and achy, but he can breathe and talk. In a few hours he will be alright.
"Why didn't you ever tell us what you were going through?"
He shrugged.
"It's not like there's much you can do."
"Why would you rather go through this alone?"
Jason glares at him, and his control over his emotions is not all there yet, and his heart betrays him.
"I didn't think you would rather be with me than be Batman. Your responsibility to Gotham always comes first, no?"
"No, Jason. Not anymore. Never again. You are my son."
Jason swallows hard. "I didn't think you'd risk anything for the weakest link."
"Weakest link?" Bruce asks, surprised. "Jason, you're the strongest one of us. I'm serious." he adds at Jason's scoff. "You are the strongest one, not only physically. You went through horrible, unimaginable things, and it's my fault. But you came back stronger than ever."
"No, I came back half-dead."
"You seem pretty alive to me." Bruce adds, smiling. Then his eyes fill with tears. "Jay, no matter what happens, you will always be my son. This will always be your home. I will always be here for you. And despite… the distance between us and everything that has happened, I will always love you."
A whole different kind of coldness washes over Jason, and he looks at Bruce with wide, shocked eyes.
Then he smiles.
"Well, it only took dying a few times to get you to say that," he jokes.
Bruce half laughs, half sobs, and leans to hug Jason tightly again.
"You will always be my son."
.
Jason walks into the Batcave to find Dick reading through some documents. The older boy looks up when he steps closer.
"Jase, leaving already?" he sounds a little disappointed, and Jason rolls his eyes. He has been there far longer than he had intended, not just for breakfast but for lunch and the after-lunch board games the others wanted to play. He even took a nap.
"I need to get back," Jason says laconically.
"You could stay for a few days."
"I'm fine, Dickface. I don't need Alfred and the bats coddling me," he walks closer to his bike, which used to be outside but someone moved inside the cave during the night.
"Yeah, but Tim, Steph, Cass and I will stay until Sunday while we work in this Black Mask case. You're invited to, as well."
"I'll stop by for dinner if I have the time."
"It's Cass's birthday on Saturday."
"I know. I'll be here."
"Jay, can I ask you something?"
Jason looks up at him, annoyed. "Spit it out."
"Is it true that your friends have been there with you, sometimes?"
Jason sighs, pulling his jacket on. "Roy has been there twice, and Artemis and Bizarro only once. Happened during a mission last time. I made them swear that they wouldn't tell you anything and… I told them I would let them know if it ever happened again."
"And naturally you kept your promise," Dick said sarcastically.
"I don't need -"
"Little Wing… Please, do it for us. Come here when it happens again. Don't bear it alone. You don't deserve it. It looked terrifying and painful."
The pain in Dick's face stabs at his heart. Jason takes a deep breath before pulling his helmet on.
"I will, Dickie-bird. Promise."
Neither of them know if he is going to keep this promise, but both really, really hope he does. Dick smiles widely at the old nickname.
"We love you, Little Wing."
"Whatever, loser," he answers, before mounting his bike. "I'll try to make it for dinner tomorrow to help out with your stupid case."
And then he leaves.
Dick takes a deep breath and returns to his documents.