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It started out well enough.
The coronavirus swept through the outside countries that it seemed like it was not going to touch the US. But Bruce knew that it was going to hit the American soils soon enough, if not already.
This is a new virus with no vaccines. Already there were multiple reported deaths in China, hitting hard in Italy.
So when the first case was reported in the American soils, Bruce was ready. He took a massive pay cut to get ready to donate money to hospitals and clinics that he knew would be hit hard.
Damian had nothing to worry about, the little brat. He was almost unbearable smug about the fact that the children and he wouldn’t acknowledge the fact are not harmed from this virus for the most part. It’s the immunocompromised, the elderly, and anyone with underlying conditions that are hit hard.
Da- Bruce immediately ordered his two most vulnerable family members to stay in the mansion and away from the outside world. The rest of the Bats are free to move around in the city to continue to patrol. Just don’t bring in the virus, Bruce says.
Jason snorted in mirth when Timmers could only glower at the unwilling quarantine. Alfie only sniffed in disdain but took the order well enough, understanding that he is an elderly man despite his good health and it was not something that could be risked with the new virus.
So they both decided to help out with the comm when the bats are out on patrol. And this time, the patrol is a different one.
With the city as it is, a lot more people than normal are going to be hit. The constant smog of pollution means that the residents that grew up in it’s heavy and dirty air will have some lung condition in some form or another. Add the fact that there were people that had been hit from virulent strains of chemical warfare such as the joker gas and the fear gas. They’re out to make sure that the people are safe and that there is no one out there deliberately spreading the virus around.
And then there is the panic buying.
“Freaking toilet papers. People are shooting each other for toilet papers” Jason grouched, finishing his cig and snuffing it by dropping it on the gravel of the rooftop and stepping on it, “I thought that Gotham’s fuckless attitude to global pandemic would make them above panic buying. I’m honestly appalled and embarrassed by my own people.” He finished, stuffing the helmet down.
”I’m a little embarrassed, too. I can’t imagine what some people who are actually low on tp would do when irritable bowel syndrome strikes.” Tim, manning the comm snarked.
”Boys. Keep unnecessary chatter low.” The growl of Batman’s voice interrupted whatever Jason was gonna say and it was gonna be a glorious poop pun. Jason glared at the empty spot he imagined Batman would be and flipped him off.
”I’ll be sure to relay that message Hood.” Oracle spoke in a private line and Jason smiled, “Thanks O.”
The Rogue Gallery out of Arkham actually decided to lay down during the quarantine and that surprised Jason a lot.
Or maybe not. The global pandemic doesn’t care if you are evil or not. It just infects and kills saints and evil alike. He could see Bane being vulnerable to this due to his body being weak because of the Venom wrecking havoc. Roman Sionis sure as hell went silent. That black masked psycho was not going to risk the virus with his condition in having a pacemaker, that’s for sure.
“Welp. Any TP robbers out there Baby Bird?” Hood asked, cracking his neck and bringing out the grapple gun.
There was an aggrieved sigh, ”As a matter of fact, there is. There is one happening right now on 6th and Main.”
Jason snorted in disgust and aimed his grapple gun, “Frakking toilet paper, man.”
Tim huffed in agreement.
------------
A week later and people are still shit stains, but this time they’re going after the bottles of water. And pastas.
Pastas!
Jason glared at the pasta isle and noticed the sad state. The poor workers are doing their best to keep up and he felt sorry for them.
With one last glare at the missed chance of making easy dinner tonight, he went to pick up flour and eggs instead. Then he went to the produce section for tomatoes, onions, garlic, and green pepper. The rest he had at home.
When walking to the meat section, he was happy to note that there was one roll of premium ground beef left and snatched it before someone could think of stealing it from him.
When he was loading his dinner onto the conveyor belt for his dinner and food for the next several days, he heard a little bit of trouble, “...Sorry, sir. But I can’t allow you to buy more than two.” The cash register said, completely unruffled in the face of a man who was going puce.
“What?!” He nearly shouted.
The cash register, donned in gloves and mask, simply pointed to the paper taped to the front of the table. Jason didn’t need to lean over to see it as the paper was posted all throughout the grocery store: NO MORE THAN TWO ITEMS PER HOUSEHOLD.
The man looked ready to blow his top on the apathetic kid and Jason had enough. He picked up the divider and poked the man with it just a bit harshly.
The man whirled, ready to ream into the person who dared disrupt him but the angry diatribe suddenly died in a pathetic whistle when he saw Jason’s scarred, muscular form. All 6’2”, 230 pounds of him.
Then he gained his stupidity courage back and snarled, nearly spitting his words out, “What?!”
Jason stepped back because hell no he didn’t want to pick up this guys spittle and gave him a bland glare, “Buy two and get the fuck out of here you twat.”
The man looked ready to punch him, social distancing be damned, but Jason smiled sharply, the scars on his face twisting, and stood up straight. Subtly, he raised the hem of his red hoodie up and the man paled when he saw the gun in the holster.
Suddenly, the fight left the man. He meekly apologized to the cash register, who had mirth in her eyes, and left with his proverbial tail between his legs.
The customer behind him at a respectable distance clapped, “Thank dude.” Jason gave him a two fingered salute and moved up to pay for his dinner. The cash register was much more perkier to him as she told him his price and he paid for it with good humor. Then left to his one bedroom apartment under the name Rason Rodd to make homemade spaghetti dinner.
---
Fighting a bunch of criminals tonight was a little more difficult than usual. So was running on the rooftops.
He ran to the point where Oracle directed him to and saw a hostage situation happening and snuck in with Nightwing taking the other entrance. Hood went to the back while Nightwing went to the front.
“You’re not leaving me!” The man roared, and the click of the safety turning off made Jason nearly see red. The poor kid was whimpering in his arms, crying silently as not to provoke the man, possibly the father or sept-father, into shooting his head. The woman pleaded for him to let her son go.
Nightwing took his cue to interrupt them, “I would say that she’s smart to leave you.” He raised his arm placatingly, continuing in a condescending tone, “I mean...you’re not a good looker yourself.” And smiled his famous pretty boy smile, that infuriating smile that always get the others pissed off and make them sloppy.
It worked like a charm, the other man snarled and aim the gun at Nightwing. The gun was off the kid and Hood took this as his chance to do a flying tackle to the man, grabbing the gun as all three went down. He made sure that the kid would land on his side and not under the weight of two full grown men. Nightwing bounded over to snatch the kid up to safety while Hood broke the man’s hand.
The scream was silenced with a brutal punch to the face.
The kid began wailing when he realized that he was safe and the mother rushed over to grab him in a tight hug, squeezing out thankfulness between sobs. Nightwing smiled then looked over at Hood who was leaning against a wall with an air of tiredness.
Nightwing frowned, “Alright there Little Wing?”
Hood tiredly gave him a thumbs up, “It’s been a long fucking several weeks. Especially today.”
---
Jason woke up with slight troubles in breathing. He coughed but it was a dry one.
He figured that he has the cold, just the regular seasonal ones. There's no way that he has the coronavirus. He’s healthy as anyone could be. He’s not immunocompromised like Timbers and he’s not ancient like Alfie. Not that Alfie is going to die anytime. That man is going to live forever.
He took a couple tablets of Tylenol PM and gargled salt water to calm the fire in his throat. Then drank several glasses of cold water before going back to bed.
---
The next time he woke again, it was dark and everything swam. He staggered off the bed and nearly blacked out in his effort to reach the restroom. He barely made it in relieving himself sitting down because there was no way he could aim in his current state.
He washed his hands then splashed his face with the blessedly ice cold water. Distantly, he felt alarmed, he was having a shitton of trouble breathing just from the simple act of walking.
He should call dad.
He should call dad, this….this is not the flu…
Jason looked up to the mirror and stared at the zombie in front of him. He was pale, with dark bags under his eyes. He was sweating, his hair was plastered to his forehead. He was wheezing.
His lips are blue.
He’s drowning.
Fuck he’s drowning!
Finally the panic came to him but it was too late. He stood up straighter to find his phone, but the moment he stood up the world went black.
---
Awareness came in patches. There was a loud pounding in the front door that sounded too far away.
”....n’t know when he was sick, Bruce! He looks terrible!” Dick? “No, he looks like he’s nearly on his deathbed!” The voice sounded slightly frantic.
A blob invaded his vision and there was something bright covering the person’s mouth, “Jay? Jay, can you hear me? C’mon Little Wing, tell me that you’re here.” The voice pleaded.
Jason wheezed and grasped at the air until a cool hand grabbed his hand, “I’m here, Jay, I’m here.”
“No. he’s not doing okay. I’m going to bring him to the cave. Don’t worry, I won’t go upstairs, I’m going to stay in isola...”
His vision swam out and blacked out before he could hear the rest.
He woke up enough to feel himself on someone’s shoulder before he passed out again from the shift of gravity.
“-...n Jay, stay with me buddy. We’re almost there.” Jason wheezed at the feel of a mask on his face. His hand went up to it only to be stopped by a hand to his left, “No, Little Wing, you gotta keep that on…”
His hand dropped, “No, no, wait! Stay wi-” darkness.
---
Jason woke up again and felt panic at the feel on a foreign object jammed in his throat. He gagged and weakly rushed his hand to remove the offending tube out but Dick entered his line of vision and grabbed his hands, “Hey, hey! It’s okay! I’m here! It’s alright.”
The little movement took out whatever strength he had and it left him trembling in the hospital bed. He bleary looked around and noted that he was in the sealed quarantine suite of the medbay inside the cave.
He looked back at Dick, and due to being unable to use his voice, he weakly tugged his hand out and Dick let him. The palms turned upward and weakly shook side to side.
What?
Dick saw and smiled at him tiredly, “You’re infected with Covid-19, Little Wing. You’ve been out for 5 days. Tim and Alfred had to visit you in full hazmat suits and I volunteered to stay down here in quarantine with you in the meantime.”
Jason felt so freaking tired but apparently he had enough energy for tears to escape because of fucking course Dick would be a complete sap and stay with the sick person 24/7.
He’s not crying because Dick is being a brother. Of course not.
He’s not crying that Timmer risked his asplenic ass coming down here to visit despite reducing the risk of getting infection by wearing a Hazmat suit. He was not crying that Alfie, his grandpa risked his health coming down as well.
The tube forced air in his lungs and he winced at the horrible feeling of not being able to breath for himself.
He felt himself feeling asleep, not unconscious, and gave Dick a middle finger.
Last thing he heard before he succumbed to Hypnos' domain was a relieved chuckle, “Get some sleep Little Wing.”
----
Jason woke to the smooth baritone of Bruce reading one of his favorite Jane Austen literature, “...There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.” Jason looked to his right and saw Bruce right besides him. He was wearing a blue surgical gown and a mask.
Jason worked his jaw and spoke, wincing when it croaked instead of anything coherent.
Bruce put the book down and held a glass of water with a straw in front of his mouth. Jason was relieved to feel the revitalizing coolness going down his throat and quenching his thirst even though he’s hooked up to several IVs.
Wait. Jason weakly lifted his blanket up and saw that, yep, he’s got a catheter as well. Somehow, he couldn’t find it within himself to feel mortified that he’s pissing in a bag.
He’s going to celebrate that he’s alive. This was the closest he’s been to death since he, well, you know, actually died.
“How are you doing Jaylad?”
“Like Death took a warm shit on me.” He deadpanned and tiredly smirked at Bruce’s wince. He looked up like he was praying for whatever deity was listening to him to help him with a son who loves death puns.
Bruce gave him a mild glare, “I’m not letting you out of my sight for the next three weeks minimum.”
“One.” He retorted just because.
“Three.” Bruce tone booked no argument, “I should be saying six weeks at the very least, but three minimum is already a good compromise.” Jason tilted his head back and closed his eyes, energy drained from the petty argument.
“Fine.” He said, already falling asleep again.
He felt large warm, warm!, hands carding through his greasy hair and he sighed, leaning into it. Then he felt a kiss through a mask on his crown, “You’re going to be okay, son.”
---
“You’re an idiot.” Barb’s blunt barb was lovely to wake up to.
Jason groaned, “Next time, when you start feeling sick, don’t be sick alone.” Barb’s mouth was covered in a mask but the glare is just as potent as ever when his eyes met hers. She was wearing a surgical gown to keep the virus from latching on to her to prevent the spread in the household.
“Yeah.” He rasped, “I’ll be sure to tack that on my ‘to-do’ when I feel like dying.” The glare cranked up a notch.
He winced in chastisement and her glare cooled down and she sighed, “How are you feeling now.”
“Like crap. But better than sleeping with Death on the same bed. Million’s of time better than being six feet under.”
Barbara’s deadpanned, “I can only imagine.”
He didn’t even chuckle at that, already feeling himself slip into sleep. He whispered, “Thanks.”
There were a million and one things he said thanks for and he didn’t have the energy to list them all. But he didn’t need to elaborate himself, Barbara understood exactly what he’s saying and not saying, “You’re welcome. Get some rest. Get better so I can hear your sarcastic wit again.”
---
The next time he woke, he felt more aware of himself but felt utterly disgusted with days, or weeks, old sweat on his body. Then he noticed that there was a tiny sound of classic rock playing on low volume from a phone while Tim was playing with a handheld game. He listened for a second before realizing that it was Queen playing and closed his eyes and chuckled breathlessly, “Another One Bites The Dust, huh?” he rasped.
Tim, without lowering his game, replied softly, “I figured you would appreciate the gallows humor.”
Then placed the game down, the squeak of the hazmat suit obnoxiously loud in the near silence of the cave, “You really gave us the scare, Jason.” He spoke softly.
“Not my intention.”
“I know, but you still gave us a scare. Bruce nearly went ballistic in his worry. Alfred sanitized everything to the point of sterilization. The little gremlin was just unbearable. Barb has this place constantly monitored. And Dick…” He nodded to the sleeping figure on the cot in the corner of the room, “Wouldn’t leave your side, he volunteered to be your main caretaker and quarantined himself at the same time.”
They both watched the gentle rise and fall of the eldest brother’s chest for a moment before Tim directed his look back to Jason. Jason tiredly took in the serious look, “Do me a favor? Don’t do that again. You…” He paused, worrying his lips but continued, “You actually stopped breathing on the way here. You developed pneumonia pretty quickly. Dick couldn’t even give you assisted breathing until you reached the cave where we had to intubate you. I can’t….I can’t lose another member of my family. Not when I lost so much already.”
Jason closed his eyes and took his time breathing. Just breathing, listening to the air going in and out with a strained whoosh. He still couldn’t breath well, as evident to the nasal cannula giving him oxygen, but he could breath on his own.
Jason was suddenly grateful to be alive, so much so that tears gathered at the corner of his eyes against his wishes.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and asked, “So why did I get caught in the crossfire of this virus?”
“Turns out that smokers are hit hard as well. Vaping, cigarettes, e-cigs…” Tim waved his hands, “Anything that affected the lungs. Asthma, lung cancer, lung scarring, etc.”
“Fuck.” Jason slapped his head against the pillow.
“Yeah, I think you should quit smoking completely.” Tim snarked dryly and Jason snorted. He agrees, not that he’s going to say that to his face. Instead he flips him off.
Tim smirked, seeing right through him.
Jason tried to sit up but felt woozy and shaky with the effort in his failed effort in sitting up. Tim got up and handed him a cup of water with a straw and Jason gratefully drank some. There is just something about drinking water that is more satisfying than getting his hydration from the IV bag.
“Need help with anything else?” Tim asked and Jason blushed in angry embarrassment. He desperately needs a shower but he knows for certain that he could not get up on his own.
“There’s nothing here that we can’t do to help you. Don’t be afraid to ask.”
“Fuck you.” He snapped, but the usual heat is lacking, “Fine. I feel disgusting and I need a wash.”
“Do you want me to wake Dick for this or get Bruce? Or do you prefer me?”
He licked his lips. Dick would just be emotional and he couldn’t help it. With Bruce, he would just feel weird in having his dad help him. It would make him feel like an invalid, never mind the fact that, yeah, he is an invalid right now.
Timmer, at least, knows how to remain purely professional, like a fraking robot, “You.” He answered, slightly defeated.
If Tim was surprised by his answer, he did not say anything or react in any way besides going to the shower hooked to the quarantine section of the medbay, coming out with a bucket of hot water, a new sponge, and a bar of scentless antibiotic soap. Jason closed his eyes in weary resignation and subjected himself to the sponge bath.
The arms, chest, and legs were fine enough. The hair wash was messy but incredibly relieving at the clean feeling right after.
The next part though…
Tim smiled at Jason apologetically, “Sorry, we gotta clean there as well.”
Jason grunted, resolutely deciding not to be embarrassed, “Just do it. I...I don’t have enough energy to stay awake right now.”
“Okay, but you gotta drink a couple mouthful of soup after this cleaning. Alfred made it and he would be really sad to see that his effort go cold.”
He grunted and thought about anything other than the fact that he’s being cleaned right now. Just as he was on number 9 of 1000 ways in killing Joker, a favorite pastime of his, he was snapped back to reality, “-son. Jason.”
He rolled his eyes to Tim and saw him holding a straw up from a thermos. Jason managed a couple of good sips before he sighed and looked away, feeling full.
“Alright, get some sleep. Dick will be back to his usual energetic self when you wake.” There was amusement in his replacement’s tone that he didn’t like, but he discarded it when he fell asleep again.
---
Jesus fuck, there was an annoying pop music playing.
Jason groaned and opened his eyes to glare at the offender playing the music. Dick was doing handstand push-up, stopped, took one hand off the floor, and resumed doing push-ups.
The music switched to another song and Dicks hand returned to the ground and proceeded to do a handstand split.
“Turn to something better than this shit, dickhead.” He snapped and Dick looked up.
He grinned, letting one side of his leg fall to the ground and smoothly stood up straight, “Hey! You’re awake!” And promptly crawled onto the bed and wrapped him in Dick’s famous octopus hug.
“Get off, dickhead!” He halfheartedly pushed but Dick only tightened his hold more, “Nope. I’m gonna stay right here. Here, where you're breathing.”
Jason’s petty energy went out at that and he slumped in bed, “Sorry I scared you.”
Dick didn’t say anything in reply to that at first, only tightening his hold more, like Jason was going to slip away to where he couldn’t follow. He sighed, “Just...next time you get sick, let us know.”
“Grayson, Pennyworth demands your moment of time.” A young teen’s voice interrupted their moment and Damian crossed his arms at the doorway to his room.
Wait, his room? He’s not in the batcave anymore. No wonder the bed felt much more comfortable.
Dick groaned, “Now?”
“Now, Grayson.”
Dick groaned louder but got up, “What does he need?”
“He requires your help in bringing tables and food up here in this room.” Jason starts at this, looking a bit surprised. Damion noticed, “You’re weak right now, Todd. So instead of forcing you to come down, we are bringing dinner up here.”
“I’m not infectious anymore?”
“It’s been more than two weeks.” He sniffed as Dick left to help Alfred with setting up dinner, “We tested you recently and found you to be free of the virus. Now you just need to get up to speed. I will help you with the PT once you are able to stand on your own for more than 2 seconds.”
Jason gave his youngest, prickliest brother a wry grin, “Sure gremlin. Thanks for your help.”
Damian stiffly nodded and left the room.
Jason smiled and huffed out a laugh. God, what a cute little brother.
---
Alfred snuck into the room after he put away the last of the dirty plate and brought up his camera to take a picture. He was so incredibly glad that he second oldest grandson is alive.
He is very much loved, very much cherished just as much as any other of his grandchildren and child.
He took in the sight that his camera captured.
Bruce is sleeping upright on the armchair that was dragged to sit right next to Jason’s bed, fingers interlocked over his stomach and head tilted downward. He’s going to get a crick in his neck in the morning.
Damian was sleeping right between Jason’s covered legs, with his own blanket over him. Tim slept on the right side of Jason, finally able to be with his brother without the hazmat suit. Jason’s arm curled unconsciously over Tim and the left arm curled over Dick who was sleeping in octopus mode, arm across Jason’s chest and leg over Jason’s leg, brushing against Damian.
Barbara slept on the opposite side of Bruce in her wheelchair. The chair is locked to prevent it slipping away from her as the upper half of the body leaned on the bed behind Dick’s back. Her head rested on her left arm with the right hand resting over Dick’s side barely touching Jason’s lower chest.
Alfred walked over and gently placed a kiss on Jason’s forehead, British Butler decorum be damned.
Jason breathing was still on the labored side, but he’s no longer in distress. Alfred dranked that sight up. He rested his hand on Jason’s messy hair for a moment longer, lightly playing with the streak of white before sighing and walking away.
Just before he shut the door, Alfred the cat slipped in with Ace and Titus following after.
He pinned the three animals with a stern look, “Now, do be careful. Master Jason needs his rest.”
The three animals, more intelligent than anyone gives credit, acknowledged the old butler and continued into the room. He watched as his namesake silently hopped onto the bed to curl up into a purring ball on Jason’s stomach, right above Damian’s head.
Ace and Titus laid on the floor, an indomitable defensive barrier to protect their recovering member of their pack.
Alfred smiled in approval and shut the door after turning off the light.