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“Mr. Wayne, I’m afraid he’s in a vegetative state… he’s not… going to recover.”
Bruce stared blankly at the Doctor not sure how to process what was happening. There were so many things, people, plans he was running through. Ways to get out of it. Ways to make ‘vegetative state’ a minor thing.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Bruce looked down in surprise. Damian. Damian followed them and heard every word.
“It doesn’t matter!” The boy repeated angrily when the two men didn’t answer. “We’re not pulling the plug. That’s what you were going to say, isn’t it? We’re not going to. He’s—Grayson’s not—he isn’t dead!”
“That’s the decision of Richard’s proxy,” the Doctor said gently, but there was a bluntness there. He wasn’t the type to give hope when there was none.
“I’m his proxy,” Bruce rumbled being pulled out of the maze of his mind. Plans, ideas. None of them helpful yet. None of them that Dick would want.
“Oh, no,” The Doctor looked awkward now, “Richard has a ‘Todd Peters’ listed.
“But that’s—” Damian gaped.
-
“You asshole,” Jason sat down beside the bed refusing to look at Dick. “I got an earful from all of them. ‘Don’t you dare,’ ‘This can be fixed,’ ‘we’re looking at other avenues and options.’ Plans A through 100Z. The Doc told me the score. You’re not even in there to hear me. You’re just a body—hell.”
He stared out the window. It was early afternoon. A sweet spring day. The Batfamily was scattered around the globe looking for ways to ‘fix’ him. Alfred was in the city ready to contact them about any change.
“You’re a real bastard,” Jason turned looking down at Dick angrily. “What? You think because I’ve taken lives this isn’t gonna—you don’t mind me having your blood on my hands? Well I do. I do fucking mind.”
He crossed his arms, “You think just because we’re on the outs it doesn’t matter to me? That I could sign your death warrant and sleep easy? This is Bruce’s choice. This should be his choice—or fuck. Drake, or Barbara, Starfire, hell, Roy would make more sense than me. They loved you. You mattered to them.”
Jason looked down at the floor, “I mean, you … you mattered to me well enough. You were my big brother… but… I don’t think our bond was strong enough for me to take away your organ function. It should be Bruce, or Alfred. No. It would break Alfred’s heart… hell…”
“Is that it? Everyone’s heart would be broken except mine? What you must have thought of me as you signed my name. Jason won’t care. Jason’ll do it.”
“All the while they’re all telling me not to do it. Don’t listen to the doctor. Vegetative states can be cured, yeah there’s no cure yet, but we can find one. If it’s for Dick we can find one. They’re not gonna find one. The only thing that’ll bring you back is…”
Jason shuddered.
“You don’t want the pit, it’s not worth it. Is that it? You knew out of all of them I wouldn’t subject your body to … abominations?”
Jason started breathing a bit calmer. He looked up at the ceiling.
“They can’t be rational about it. Them. Batman and his acolytes the most rational, logical people on the Earth can’t be rational when it comes to you. No one is rational when it comes to you. But I can be, because I know what death is and…”
He wiped his eyes furiously. Fuck.
“And you’re dead, Dick.”
He tried very hard not to think of happier times, and frustrating times, and fights, and laughter, and quick truces, but he failed. He let the memories wash over him.
“You trust me to make the right decision, don’t you? You wouldn’t have put down the name of someone you didn’t trust—and you wanted someone who wouldn’t feel guilty because… because you knew I wouldn’t take you off life support if you were salvageable, but if you weren’t… I would release you. You don’t want to exist like this… you never were afraid to die, were you?”
He felt a dark emotion in his gut.
“I was afraid. Before it happened. The knowing was the worst. Just watching a clock run down and knowing there would be nothing in a few moments. Knowing Bruce wouldn’t make it in time. Accepting that my life was over. I’m glad you don’t know. It’s an awful feeling.”
He rubbed his face.
“They’re all desperately searching and I’m worried if I don’t do it soon one of them will come back with a bottle of Lazarus pit slime. Maybe it’s my fault. So many people coming back from the dead, who can blame them for thinking you’re an exception?”
Jason tentatively took Dick’s hand.
“I’m going to do it tomorrow. I’m sending them a message to get back by tomorrow evening to say their goodbyes. I don’t think the Damian will ever get over it. Or Drake. Or Bruce… or any of them. They’ll hate me for it maybe… but… you chose me because I would make the right choice for you. If you wanted to remain alive in a decomposing body waiting for a miracle cure you would have put one of them. I get it now. I didn’t think you trusted me so much, I—”
He angrily wiped his eyes again.
“I’ll keep an eye on them. I mean… it won’t be like how you would do it, but… damn it, I’m talking to empty air. I know it’s stupid but I feel like… I just want a sign that I’m right. That there’s no coming back, that you don’t want, to come back. That’s stupid though, no such things as signs from—”
He was interrupted by a gentle tapping. A robin had landed on the window sill. Its beady black eyes met Jason’s. He felt a wave of nausea and certainty. It was spring. Robins were one of the most common birds to see around Gotham at this time, but…
“Okay, okay Dick.”
The robin flew away.
Jason stood up and pulled out his phone.
“Hi. Alfred—… … … I’m sorry, I’ve made my decision. Tell them to come and say their goodbyes—that… that means a lot. Thank you.”