Jaime slept that night, tumultuously, as he recounted his conversation with Artemis over and over again, but he slept! And for the first time in forever his nightmares were nowhere to be seen. He woke up that Sunday better rested than his memory recounted; and his mood was visibly better.
As soon as he had eaten and cleared the dishes, Jaime began cleaning the kitchen. With all the commotion yesterday, he'd left the floors and walls unwashed, and he was aiming to finish this and all the bathrooms today.
Jaime's father beamed at his son's ardor. "Look at him, a hard worker just like his father!"
"The only thing you work hard at is napping during your shows, my love," Jaime's mother replied with loving teasing.
The rest of the day was, against all odds, similarly quiet. Jaime found himself drifting less than usual, which he was thankful for. Today was being uncharacteristically good to him, and while he waited for the other shoe to drop, he wanted to enjoy himself as much as he could let himself.
As much I deserve, he thought. He still needed to remain alert. Maybe one day, when he'd have been a hero for long enough, he could be prepared; like Nightwing, or Batman. That'd be nice, Jaime mused, smiling slightly. Part of him knew, though, that this was more fantasy than reality.
You couldn't think your way out of being a fuck-up.
Monday came and went without anything of note happening. Jamie found that following his schedule allowed him more brainpower to remain vigilant of his surroundings. He wouldn't fuck up again. School was uneventful, save for a rapid text exchange with Artemis. She really wanted him to get that second phone, and while Jaime had agreed to it, he was still grounded. He tried reminding her that, and while she seemed to relent, Jaime felt like he was disappointing her somehow. He hurriedly sent her a flurry of texts, anxious to prevent an outburst.
Jaime: I promise I'll get it first chance I get!
Jaime: I'm grounded so I can't go out
Jaime: Maybe I could text NW and have Connor deliver it lol?
He regretted sending that last text almost immediately. Was it such an urgent matter that Jaime needed to bother his friends about it? Not only that, but Jaime wasn't even going out for the next week, still. And his one (violent) outburst aside, Jaime was a good student. Still, though, the thought of having something, anything, in case of emergency assuaged him.
He looked down when his phone vibrated.
Artemis: I'll talk to em, don't worry abt it
Jaime was both comforted and thrown off. He waited for another text letting him know she was just kidding and that he could figure it out himself or something. When that second text didn't come, Jaime felt bad for doubting her.
Jaime: Thx, I appreciate that!
Artemis: You're welcome
Shoving the phone in his pocket as he neared home, Jaime tried to put the weird conversation to rest in his head.
The remainder of the week was more of the same for Jaime; sleep however much he could, 'get up' for school, follow his schedule down to the second, and use all of his remaining power capacities to test himself. It felt like every day he was able to notice some detail he'd missed when he was overly focused on following his schedule and the minute details of it, rather than its function. He found himself appalled at the lack of focus his past self had displayed all this time.
No wonder he'd kept fucking up in the field. Had he been treating this hero-thing like a game? It hadn't felt like that to him. It had felt very… real, to say the least. I guess I just have a lot more to learn than I thought, Jaime mused while walking home on Thursday. The sun was still high in the sky, and it was a cloudless day. Perfect weather for flying.
His head ached at the thought, then, it was his heart, as he resigned himself to walk home. Part of Jaime missed the freedom being so ignorant and green had afforded him. He'd never forget the first free flight he took on his own; barrel rolls, inside loops, trying to finish off with a chandelle before he knew the armour was actually equipped for space travel. The free fall that had followed as he had panicked in view of the great blue yonder, stars and far-flung planets not seeming quite so far.
Jaime missed it. But he missed feeling… in control, much more. He had control over his schedule, and so he would stick to it. Besides, he thought to himself somewhat sullenly, I'm almost home already.
Later that evening, as Jaime was reorganizing his room again, his mind wandered. Artemis had been so up in his business about getting that second phone, and she said she'd handle it– probably thought I'm too useless to even figure that out, he though resignedly - but that had been three days ago.
Was she not worrying about it to him because she knew the phone was secured, or on its way somehow? Jaime clicked his teeth at the thought. Artemis would not be shipping him a phone, that'd be way too conspicuous.
As if on cue, Jaime noticed someone approaching his house. A familiar signature. He all but bolted out his room and bounded down the stairs, rushing to open it right as Connor knocked.
"Hey," Jaime greeted, breathing more heavily than he ought to.
"Okay I know you were not waiting at the door for me, but it's still kind of creepy how fast you were," Connor replied, walking in.
Whatever either of them were about to say was interrupted by the exceedingly loud little girl who threw herself at Jaime's friend with more strength and intensity than her tiny frame should allow.
Unsurprisingly, Connor didn't even shift as he hefted her up on his shoulder, as she always requested when she saw him.
"CONNOR!" She cried joyfully, and Jaime's heart tore a little.
"Hello, your Highness," Connor replied, smiling. Jaime's heart tore a little more.
Maybe he should invite his friends over more often. The three spent a few minutes talking, Connor and Milagro catching up properly since, as his little sister exclaimed, "Jaime always forgets the important details!"
Once Milagro was satisfied - rather, when their mother told her to let Jaime catch up with his own friend - she bounded off to the kitchen with one last question, "Are you staying for supper, Connor?"
"I'm actually not staying that long, I just came by to drop off some things for Jaime," he replied.
Milagro pouted and retreated inside the kitchen.
Jaime felt a little like a background character. Maybe he ought to actually say something instead of just standing there. "Oh yeah! The, uh… the homework, yeah?"
"Sure," Connor replied, rolling his eyes. "You suck at this," he added in a whisper, following Jaime upstairs to his room.
"Bite me, I'm at home," Jaime replied. "I was actually expecting someone else for this kind of delivery."
"You thought Nightwing was going to drop this off?"
Jaime decided not to mention that he had thought of that last night. Or that he spent an undue amount of time rooting around his window and bushes for it. "No," he simply replied.
There was a beat.
"Okay, well I'm the one delivering your new phone; sorry if I didn't call or anything, but Artemis mentioned you were grounded so I figured I'd just come by after classes."
Jaime looked over at Connor for a moment. He'd been checking his window's lock and performing a cursory scan. Artemis knew he had his phone. "O-Oh, uh…" he stammered.
"Geez I know my room is empty, but yours looks like… well your room at the base," Connor said, visibly letting Jaime off the hook with whatever was troubling him. If he wanted to talk, he would; Connor was always there for his friend and trusted he'd speak up if there was anything.
"Yeah, I hated my bed frame and I'm only here to work or sleep, so… Yeah." He shrugged, not knowing what else to add. "Wanna sit?" he offered somewhat lamely. His heart still felt weird, wondering why Artemis had not mentioned he had his phone.
I'm overthinking this, he told himself and forced his mind to move on.
Connor levelled a look at him. "You should get a new bed frame," he said, handing Jaime the new phone and a charging cable. "It's better for your mental health," he offered and shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I should get going."
"Okay, thank you for bringing this to me; let's hang out soon, okay? I can show you the sights around town and take you to the good food spots."
"Hell, yeah," Connor replied, smiling and giving Jaime a handshake; but his smile didn't reach his eyes and his voice was more polite than excited.
Jaime felt a pang but couldn't fault his friend. "Let's schedule it," he said impulsively, feeling both a rush and the onset of a headache at the thought of deviating from his routine. "That way we'll be sure it happens, okay?"
"Okay," Connor agreed, more genuine this time. "When are you free?"
The two hashed out some details and settled on a date in a couple of weeks. With his friend taken care of, Jaime sent Artemis a quick text with his new phone; not surprised to see the Team's contact info already saved on it. His thumb hovered above the send button for a moment, tempted to delete it, but that'd be weird if she checked and saw him typing.
Not that she would, right? he thought, looking around his barren room. Anxiously, he went through his mental checklist for his bedroom, fiddling with his piles of homework, his desk drawers and everything else in his room almost on instinct. His mind was elsewhere, thoughts racing. He knew this phone was a good thing to have; objectively, there was nothing wrong with having a second means of communication.
Why did it feel so weird?
Jaime huffed in frustration. It's clearly because it's new, he told himself. It's not part of your routine, you're freaking out, that's normal, bro. Nightwing, Artemis, AND Connor all helped you getting this thing.
Finally feeling somewhat reassured, he pressed the send button. Stuffing the phone into his pocket, Jaime returned his hand into his pocket a moment later. He hadn't expected a reply this quick, and hadn't expected the reply itself:
BB: Just got the new phone. Thx again
Artemis: Good boy!
Just like his phone before, Jaime stuffed whatever weirdness that bubbled up within deep in the confines of his subconscious.
Jaime tapped his thumb against the side of his phone, scanning through the last few days of messages. Every single conversation had been her reaching out first. He scrolled through old texts with Bart—memes, voice notes, some dumb argument over who was faster. Connor's texts were always short but simple. Kaldur's were weirdly polite.
Artemis's messages were different. Every conversation was about him. Every text had a demand hidden inside it.
She's just keeping an eye on me, he told himself. That's what she said she'd do for me.
He clicked off his phone and shoved it in his pocket. He didn't have nightmares that night.
The next week passed by a bit like the previous one, much to Jaime's satisfaction. He and Artemis had one or two conversations; she always made a point to call or text on his 'emergency' phone do so. Jaime, admittedly, felt a pang of dread and relief every time it rang or vibrated throughout the week; afraid of missing a notification and incurring her wrath.
It was very hot or cold with her at times. Just earlier today, Jaime had been on his way to his usual lunch spot, when something unexpected threw him off kilter. There was a fight in the hallway - nothing but two teenagers clinging haphazardly to each other, swinging wildly while yanking the other's shirt - but it made quite the commotion and Jaime found himself squeezed in the throng of onlookers, being pushed this way and that. His head began buzzing painfully, wrathfully, as he thrashed and pushed. He needed to get away. Now.
Jaime had barely made it outside, feeling the cool breeze under the sunlight when he felt his pocket vibrate. Immediately he reached for his second phone, eager to see what Artemis wanted with him. His face drained of colour as he stared at the multiple notifications on his screen.
Artemis: Call me.
Artemis: Answer.
Artemis: I know you're not busy.
Artemis: Are you serious, Reyes?
Artemis: If you're ignoring me, I swear to God...
With shaking hands, Jaime fumbled his way through to calling her. The line rang once, then twice, and a third time. Was she not going to pick up? Jaime felt his chest tighten with anxiety, not nearly ready enough to handle Artemis after the shitshow in the hallways. Finally, the call connected, and before she could rail into him like he knew he deserved, Jaime stammered out as many apologies as humanly possible.
"Cut the shit," Artemis replied, cutting through his words. "We went over this just last week, are you really so unstable that your memory's already gone to shit or what? How many times since you've gotten our phone that I've had to remind you, quite nicely might I add, that you don't leave me on read? Answer me, Reyes!"
"I-I know, there was a-"
"I don't wanna hear it. You know damn well unless you're incapacitated, you answer. Even then! Try to answer. Actually, ESPECIALLY then, or how the fuck am I gonna drag your ass out of trouble?"
"You're right," he sighed shakily, pathetically. "I'm very sorry."
Artemis huffed on the line and there was a brief pause. "It's okay," she relented. "I guess I'm stressed out about everything. I just keep thinking about your screams when Slade... When he attacked you like that. I was worried about you."
"Y-You were?" he blurted out.
"Of course I was! You couldn't think I'd want you hurt, Blue," she said, and his nickname felt both foreign and natural on her lips. "It really hurts, that you think that of me."
Jaime's stomach dropped. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Not Artemis; not when she was the only person taking him seriously. He'd never heard her sound so... soft. Well, at least not while speaking to him. Her voice reminded him...
"I don't! I don't think that of you; you wouldn't be helping me out if you felt that way, right? I swear I don't-"
"I get it," she interrupted. "It's fine."
But it didn't sound fine.
Jaime swallowed hard. "You've been helping me so much. I—I don't know what I'd do without you." He spoke to her like he spoke to his sister when he upset her. "I-It's all good, we're good... I just get surprised that people still... Trust me? Think about me? Like that after the whole Reach thing, is all."
Artemis sighed lightly. "It's okay," she said, and while her tone was normal, to Jaime who was accustomed to her harsh, clipped voice, it sounded so soothing.
The two chatted a bit, Jaime finally able to recount his earlier encounter to her. He hadn't dissociated at least! That was progress, right? Artemis was quick to remind him that these things weren't linear; they were nebulous and sometimes you took a step forward and two steps back, other times it was the opposite. Nothing so cartesian as his schedule, she reminded him. They were not going to be done with their secret rendezvous anytime soon. Even if Jaime would be getting 'properly' treated by Black Canary and a psychiatrist, this might be his new reality.
He didn't relish the thought.
The conversation actually had time to turn to lighter subjects - though not for the first time, Jaime was always surprised when it happened - and the two bantered until Jaime's lunch break was over.
"You know, you're lucky I like you, Blue," Artemis said, as they were saying their goodbyes. "I wouldn't do what we're doing with just anyone, not even people on the team."
"I..." he replied, but hesitated, remembering how upset she had seemed the last time he had thanked her earnestly. "Thank you; I... I feel special that you care like that."
There was a beat, a not quite comfortable silence slipped between them, and then Artemis replied. "Okay, you really gotta go, talk to you later."
"Yeah, you too," he replied, as he hung up.
Jaime stood there, in the shadow of the school for a moment. He felt... relieved.
He wasn't sure why.
The tension in his shoulders had eased, but his stomach still felt tight. Like he'd passed some kind of test.
Like he was supposed to be grateful.
Jaime laid awake in bed that night, it was Sunday, and starting tomorrow, he'd be a free man. He'd been very good, following everyone's instructions. His parents' to clean, but also Artemis' to stay in. She hadn't mentioned why, specifically, he should avoid going out as Blue Beetle, but had strongly urged he wait until next weekend. When he'd be with the Team again. She had even said please!
Artemis didn't say please, not even to Batman. Jaime had been shocked into agreeing and he hadn't even had a second thought about it all week.
But tomorrow, he thought, I could at least go out as Jaime Reyes. If I wanted to, he added hastily. He never wanted to go out as himself; not even these past two weeks where he was forced to remain inside. Somehow, having that freedom taken away had simplified things in Jaime's mind. It was one less variable to deal with - not having to deal with feelings of being cooped up or having to come up with excuses as to why he couldn't go out to his friends - it was all covered by a nice blanket statement of "I'm grounded."
Jaime got up and double-checked his room in the quiet dark of the night. His check up ended with a recent new addition to his routine. Lifting his pillow to see that his second phone was there and either charged or in the process of charging; the ringer was on, and that there were no texts. He preferred the former, as he worried that the thing might overheat, pressed between a pillow and a mattress like in a panini press.
He hesitated briefly before putting down the phone and covering it with his pillow, wondering if he should text her that he hadn't had nightmares consistently these past couple of weeks, but he was just as afraid of having them. Now, especially, he feared he might experience a bad night since he was no longer grounded. It might not change anything in his routine on paper, but Jaime felt like it was a change.
And change was bad for him.
He wound up taking naps, waking up to a set timer before he could reach REM sleep and dream. Jaime slept like that all night, clutching his lifeline to Artemis; afraid.
Jaime had all but ran through the hallways of the Watchtower, eager to see his friends and to go on a mission, any mission at all. He hadn't felt it for a fortnight, but now he suddenly felt more cooped up than a chicken in an overcrowded henhouse. He needed to fly. He needed to put some bad guys away. He needed to be free.
Entering the Team's quarters, Jaime performed his perfunctory scan of the premises. It was just as dead as last time. He was on site even earlier than usual, but there was only so much that could change between the break of dawn and early morning.
All of Jaime's excitement, this happiness that had been building up inside him, it all came crashing down, the words coming out of Nightwing's mouth smashing into him with the impact of a freight train.
"What do you mean, I'm sitting this one out?!" Jaime whined. He couldn't do this to him; didn't Nightwing know how much Jaime had missed this? "I've done over two weeks of sitting out, I'm ready to go! Put me in, coach! All of that, you know?"
"I know," replied Nightwing, with a tone remarkably similar to a sad, but resigned mother. "The team's been talking my ear off about it, but I don't feel it's safe for you to go out unless it's necessary."
"Respectfully, when have we ever done anything safe?"
A thin smile graced Nightwing's lips; a tired smile. "Touché. But my decision stands, Blue. If we need all hands on deck, I wouldn't sideline you like that." Then, he added in a low voice, "Artemis put in a good word for you, but there's some things going on that I want to make sure of before..."
"Before what?"
"That series of thefts we were following, and your antenna being stolen-"
"Hacked off with a sword, but whatever," interrupted Jaime, feeling anxious. "What about it?"
"Before I tell you, you have to remember this all speculative; we're being cautious and investigating as best we can to find the truth, okay?"
There was a silence. Jaime bounded on his feet, anxious for him to continue, but it seemed Nightwing was expecting a reply from him.
"Yeah, yeah yeah, just tell me!"
Nightwing hesitated. Nightwing hesitated.
Jaime felt his insides drop and freeze. What's going on?
"The thefts we were tracking... we discovered what they're building."
He stopped. Jaime's throat tightened; his head started buzzing. Please, no, he begged to himself.
"What're they building," he asked Nightwing, deadpan.
Nightwing inhaled sharply, visibly unsure if he was doing the right thing by telling Jaime. "A suit. Maybe multiple. And Jaime... They're using your tech Slade stole."
"Say psyche right now," he said, feeling cold. His eyes were staring into nothing, afraid of what he might read in Nightwing's expression. "Tell me it's a joke and that we're gonna go bust Copperhead and everything will be okay."
"Jaime, I'm afraid it might be true," Nightwing replied with difficulty. "We haven't confirmed anything, but..."
Jaime's head exploded in a buzzing swarm; paranoia gripping every nerve. The scarab was going haywire at the thought of its parts being recycled and used by just anyone; Jaime, for his part, was spiralling, thinking of all the damage that was going to happen because of him. Just one scarab had the potential to destabilize a planet - or worse - and although this suit was sure to pale in comparison, the technology was too volatile to be sold at auction on the black market. If just one person got their hands on this, no matter how prototypal, Jaime was sure death and destruction would follow.
His vision blurred. Was it the headache? Was he crying? Jaime couldn't tell; he couldn't feel his face; he could barely feel his jaw locking and his teeth grinding because of the intense pain. A million angry wasps were swarming in his head, every neuron firing at full power and in every which way. The buzzing. The buzzing. The buzzing; the buzzing; the buzzing always growing louder and louder and louder without end.
Jaime heard a ringing in the distance, quiet but piercing. High pitched. Focus on that, he told himself, chanted it in his mind; anything to offset this agony. His chest heaved uncontrollably. Were his lungs even working? Or were they just moving on instinct, like the flaying limbs of a dying bug?
The buzzing was so loud it felt like it was splitting his skull open; something inside him was tearing him apart, breaking him down cell by cell. Atom by atom. Then, suddenly—
Silence.
Not quiet.
Not peace.
Just... nothing.
But the world wasn't supposed to be this quiet. There was always something. Footsteps. The hum of lights. The distant murmur of voices. His own breath.
But there was nothing.
Not even his own heartbeat.
His body felt distant, like he was wearing it instead of living in it. His hands, his feet, his mouth—there, but not there. The ringing came back, a thin, whining sound in the background. Was it real? Was it in his head?
It didn't matter.
Jaime looked on, weightless; detached. It was quiet here, aside from those sobs. No buzzing, no ringing.
No pain.
But it was cold; and something about the lights just didn't seem right to Jaime. Like opening your eyes underwater, he mused. He rubbed his hands together for some semblance of warmth.
The boy standing next to Nightwing looked so much smaller than he ought to. His lithe, bony body worn thin by anxiety, and stretched too far by responsibility. He nodded along to the other's words imperceptibly; paying attention, but his eyes focused elsewhere. They looked just like glass to Jaime.
Tense at the first sight of danger.
Jaime, despite himself, sneered at him. Pathetic, he thought, disgusting, even. Detached as he was, removed from the situation, Jaime could see the boy; see himself for what he really was.
A hopeless disappointment.
A weakling from birth.
Of course this was how it would end. Of course, he'd unravel and fall apart the instant things got too real. Of course he would-
The boy stared at Jaime.
No. Stop. Stop it! STOP IT! STOP-
He was thinking too much.
Was he thinking?
Not one bit.
But the thoughts kept coming, unraveling him layer by layer until only his flayed flesh and exposed brain remained.
Freezing.
Jaime took some solace in the fact that all this, as cold and scary as it was, was dulled by his fractured mind. He dourly remarked that, for as long as he had been afraid of seeming insane to his teammates and the people around him, now he actually was going insane. As always, he thought, focused on the wrong thing 'til it bites me in the ass.
More members of the team filtered in slowly, chitchatting like nothing was wrong. Bart raided the pantry and was halfway through his breakfast when he noticed the somewhat tense atmosphere. Megan, for herself, had slowed pretty much as soon as she noticed Nightwing's expression, even though he replaced it with his usual smirk. She looked between him and Jaime, detecting a slight spike in anxiety; it was oddly distant though. Connor nodded at Jaime in a silent greeting.
"I'm glad you understand, Blue," Nightwing said, lightly punching Jaime's shoulder.
Jaime didn't react to the touch. He barely hummed in reply. His eyes were staring into nothingness. He didn't think he could, floating as he was, watching his miserable figure as everyone moved around him, completely apart from them; useless.
The team quickly made their breakfast and headed to the living room for their morning brief. Bart talked to Jaime, who nodded or hummed appropriately enough, before he went to his usual seat in the corner, appearing mostly normal. Things were quiet for a bit.
Jaime stood up languidly and started making his way out of the room under the gaze of his puzzled friends.
"Where you going?" asked Bart.
"Hm. homework," Jaime grunted, brushing him off as he left.
Ignoring the calls from his friends, he was unable to answer or even acknowledge their existence.
He was nothing.
No one.
Certainly not someone who should have people talking to him, be friends with him, and especially not care about him.
The scene in front of him seemed to stretch on for eternity. Here, in the inner rooms of the Watchtower, hidden from the passage of time by both the vast vacuum of space, and the liminal lighting, there was no such thing as sight, sound, time; movement.
Had the lights overhead ever made a sound, or were they always this silent? The clock on the far wall ticked, its hands frozen at the same second he had walked in. But they were not there, and yet they still were. It ticked again, after an eternity had passed. The numbers were the same, but the time was different. Rooted there, in the same not-time, Jaime knew he had been stuck out here for an eternity.
Or maybe no time had passed at all.
Jaime could not feel time moving, unable to know that time was continuing without him.
Or maybe he was moving with it. Like a grain of sand following the current in an hourglass. Everything looked the same when it was all moving at the same pace.
Or nothing was moving.
Nothing was moving.
Nothing was moving.
Nothing was moving.
How could nothing move? How could Jaime project himself from his body whenever he suffered a reality-check? Jaime had no answer for either question, yet somehow it all made sense. And not at all.
He was cold. He was so, so cold.
Jaime didn't have any word for it. Freezing. Frigid. Icy. Bitter. None of it explained what Jaime was experiencing. He wouldn't call it feeling, per se, but something sure was going on inside him. His fingers had been bereft of any sensation save for slight sparks of pain whenever he moved them, and the sensation had crept up his extremities. His eyes were starting to hurt too; but the longer he stared, unblinking, the quieter it all got.
Numbing, that'd be the word, he remarked quietly, as his vision faded.
The sudden mounting panic did nothing to wake him, rather it made him despair. The final throes of someone dying, reaching for the surface—knowing they'll never make it.
Jaime tried to move. He couldn't.
He tried to breathe.
Nothing.
He screamed.
No sound.
No sight.
Just nothing.