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Jason pulled his legs a little closer to his body and tugged at the cuffs on his wrists again, trying for what felt like the millionth time to get his hand to squeeze through. He was pretty close, they hadn’t tightened them incredibly tight, and Jason thought that maybe if he dislocated his thumb or broke it he could maybe slip them off.
He gave up for the time being, letting his hands flop to the ground, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the concrete. Even if he could get them off and get out of this far too tiny closet, Jason had no idea where they were keeping Damian. The last thing he was doing was leaving here without his kid brother.
If there was anything Jason was confident in, it was that Robin was still alive, and probably just as fine as he was. The guys who’d grabbed them could have easily killed them when the fight had gone sideways, but instead they’d been tied up and dragged here, to some kind of processing plant, with Robin being dragged in one direction, and Jason another.
There were a couple things to take from this, one the men hadn’t really cared whether or not Jason knew where he was being taken, and they hadn’t bruised either of them up more than was necessary. Though, to be fair, in both their cases they’d fought tooth and nail, so that was almost a negligible fact.
Whatever was going on, Mr. Evil Bossman, AKA Barnes, had a plan for Red Hood and Robin, and while Jason didn’t like the idea of sitting around waiting, he liked the idea of causing trouble and getting Robin killed even less.
He was confident in their eventual rescue if only because Batman had been on the line when the fight went sideways.
The cynical side of his mind said it was just because Bruce’s baby had gone missing in a bloody violent fight, but he shook it away. Bruce would come for Jason too. He would come because he’d promised him he would, and as tentative as the baby steps between them were, Jason had believed Bruce when he’d yelled over their comms that he was coming.
Jason really wished he still had his comms. Or any of his gear at all. They’d even taken his helmet.
He tapped his feet against the concrete kind of wishing something would just happen already. It had been hours at this point and Jason was bored. Bored enough to contemplate maybe escaping anyway and trying to find Damian.
There couldn’t be that many rooms here for them to hide a pint sized assassin baby right?
Just as he’d decided to try and work his arms under his legs and then well and truly out of the cuffs, the door to his little closet crashed open, and light filtered in.
Jason had to blink back sudden tears at the brightness. Hands dragged him to his feet as he was still trying to blink away the brightness. The blood rushed to his head as he stood, and a wave of dizziness added to his disorientation. Sitting there forever had been a mistake.
He stumbled out of the closet. The men, at least two by count of the hands on his arms, hauled him forward and down a set of rickety metal stairs. By the time they were down them, Jason’s vision had caught up with him, and he kind of wished it hadn’t.
They were in a basement filled with various kinds of electrical and heating equipment for the plant. There was a large area in the center of the room open. Well almost open. A bath tub, like an actual claw footed bathtub sat in the room. It was painted white, but age had chipped away at it enough Jason could see the metal underneath.
Another thug stood over it pouring water into from huge jugs. Jason could hear the water hit the bottom and start to splash up, and his stomach dropped. Whatever this was, it was not going to be fun.
Looking past the tub man, Jason could see three others standing around. Two were visibly armed, and one stood guard over Robin. The kid had been dumped to the floor and cuffed to a set of pipes, his arms raised a bit above his head in what could not be a comfortable position. Jason wondered if Damian had been down here the whole time.
The guys dragging Jason hauled him over to the pipes and shoved him to his knees just out of reach of Damian. One of them held him by the shoulder with one hand and aimed a pistol at Damian. The message was clear, fight and Robin would die. Jason swallowed, and let the other guy uncuff him, and drag his arms up, looping one around the same pipe Damian was cuffed to, before reattaching the cuff to his wrist.
Jason let his arms drop a bit, and heard the clang of the chain on the cuffs catch on the pipe. He tugged very lightly to see just how firm the pipe was. It wasn’t very thick, but it held steady. He wasn’t sure if he could get it to break or not if he needed to.
As the two men walked away, Jason turned his attention to Damian, looking him over. They weren’t close enough they could touch even if their arms were free, but Jason still got a good look at him. His equipment had also been taken, everything from his belt to cape and even the R on his uniform had been stripped off him, leaving a Damian who looked surprisingly small.
Jason didn’t realize how much his brother used his cape to misdirect until it was gone, and his baby brother was just there. He might be Robin, but he was thirteen and that meant he was all gangly limbs, and too little. Far too little for any of this.
His lips were puffy from a busted lip he’d received in their earlier fight, but otherwise he seemed okay. Jason would very much like to keep it that way. He hated the idea of that tub and whatever they were planning to use it for, but he hated the idea of his thirteen year old brother having to deal with it more than facing it himself.
Jason thought whatever was going to happen would start soon, but the two of them were left alone so long Jason wondered if they’d been forgotten.
He shifted to lean against the pipes a little more comfortably and eyed Damian again. The kid was also looking him over, his face perplexed.
“You alright?” Jason asked.
“Fine. You?” Damian said, voice tight, it was obvious he was also concerned about their situation.
Jason shrugged, “Could be better.”
He wasn’t sure what else to say. One of the guys was still standing guard over them just a few feet away so they couldn’t really plan an escape right then and there. Not out loud anyway.
Jason spent his time alternating between glazing at Damian and trying to plan escape routes from the room. Most of them required waiting to be uncuffed, but one really creative one featured him taunting each man until they came close enough he could kick them.
No amount of planning could ease the worry that kept worming it’s way into his thoughts. Worry centered around the boy next to him. Tonight’s adventure had been Jason’s idea. He’d needed an extra set of hands hunting down and stealing some files on a local mob boss Jason had been trying to take down for weeks now, and Damian was the smallest out of all of them, easily able to sneak through vents Jason was now too big to even consider.
Damian had needed no convincing, and even Bruce had agreed. It should have been an easy trip. Sneak in, unlock the door, find the files, and be gone without anyone knowing Bats had been there.
It had, of course, been a trap.
Had Jason spent even five minutes thinking about how easy it had been to learn about the files, or how under guarded Barnes’ office was he’d have seen it coming a mile away. Instead he’d been elated, happy to finally have a break in the stupid case. And look where it had gotten them.
“Robin--” Jason started, ready to apologize before things even started to go bad.
Damian shook his head, “This is not only on you, Hood, so do not apologize.”
Jason rolled his eyes, of course the little Gremlin would be sitting there thinking all the same things Jason was. They were alike that way --most of the family was alike that way-- taking on the responsibility of any mistake without admitting that sometimes stuff just went sideways.
He dropped his voice, and leaned as close to Damian as he could, “When things get messy let me handle it, ‘k?”
“Tt.” Damian responded, tilting his head up in defiance and setting his jaw, “I can take care of myself.”
Jason would shake him if he could, “I know that--” he started, but was distracted by the sound of a lot of somethings suddenly dropping into water.
Both Jason and Damian turned their attention to the tub. Water man was now dumping bags of ice into it, the ice sloshing around and spilling water from it’s edges. That sick feeling in Jason’s stomach doubled.
He shot Damian a look, “Just let me deal with it okay?” he asked, meaning the tub and the men and whatever they had planned.
Damian worried his lower lip for a moment, looked back at the tub and then Jason. Jason wished he could see his eyes, and read what was going on in his brother’s head. Wished he could really argue this out with him, but he had a feeling Damian wouldn’t listen. The kid was too much like his mentor, self sacrificing to a fault.
“I am not certain we will have a choice.” Damian said, at last.
That meant he knew more about the situation than was going on. They’d probably kept him down here this whole time. Jason wasn’t sure why, though it could be a number of things. A scare tactic? Maybe they’d been questioning him? The real question was why Damian and not Jason? Until tonight Robin had nothing to do with this case.
He looked Damian over again, worry and fear for his brother bubbled up inside him like a pot set to boil. Damian might be tough to get along with sometimes, but they’d been having a pretty great night before it had all gone sour and he hated the idea of these mobsters keying in on him. Barnes was not a nice man, not by a longshot. Any interest from him in Damian would not be good.
Jason had a fondness for the kid. He liked working with him and they fought well together. Not just that, but when you could tease it out of him, Damian could be a pretty funny kid. Plus they had so much in common. Not just the killing thing --something Jason would protect Damian from any more of that at all costs-- but their time in the League and with Talia and that stupid burning desire to make Bruce proud.
The last thing he wanted was for the kid to get hurt tonight.
The door above them opened and someone started down the creaky stairs. Jason craned his head and could just make out the bossman himself, Barnes. He didn’t seem interested in his men or the tub, moving directly to Jason and Damian
He stopped in front of them and crossed his arms. He was grinning down at the both of them, his canines making him look more monster than man in the light.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that I got not just one, but two of Batman’s brats in my trap.”
So this was also about Bruce, not just them.
“It is not Batman you should be worried about.” Damian said, giving him a toothy grin of his own that could be equally scary in it’s own right if Damian wasn’t awkwardly cuffed to the pipes, “The moment I get free, you’re first.”
“Oh, I’m so scared.” Barnes said, holding his hands up in mock terror for a moment. Then his eyes narrowed, “No, little bird, I think it’s you who should be worried.”
He slipped a large hunting knife from his back, tapping the tip against one of his fingers, “You two thought you were gaining information on me tonight, but in reality I’m the one who got something new.”
Jason growled, “Whatever you’re planning isn’t going to work.”
“Maybe, but it never hurts to try.” the man hummed, then pointed the knife at Jason, “See, you’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long.”
The blade shifted to Damian, “And you. Your partner or dad or whoever Batman is, has been even worse. After tonight though none of those things should be too much of a problem. Killing the Batman tends to move one up in the world you know.”
“Tt, I do not see Batman here.” Damian said, chin raised high.
“He’ll come. But not before we’ve had a little fun.” Barnes told him, his voice actually quivering with excitement.
He nodded his head at the guy who’d been guarding Jason and Damian then waved the knife in Damian’s direction again.
“The little one will do.”
“No!” Jason cried, tugging at his restraints as he tried to push himself forward, “Leave him be! Whatever you’re doing, it’s me who’s been after you not him. He’s got nothing to do with this.”
The smile the man gave Jason sent chills down his spine, “Exactly.”
The guard moved towards Damian, but Robin wasn’t having any of that. He was a fighter, and Jason could see him coil up in preparation to defend himself.
He kicked out at the man, and the moment one of the guy’s arms came within range, Damian bit down on it hard enough to make the guy scream. He kicked out at Damian, catching the kid in the ribs, but Damian kept fighting him, wiggling and kicking where he could and made so much of a ruckus the man couldn’t get close enough to grab him.
Jason was so wrapped up in Damian’s situation, he missed the knife until it was digging into his arm. He couldn’t help but yell as pain laced through his arm and up his shoulder. Then he screamed again when just as quickly the blade was pulled out. Jason hardly had time to process the agony in his arm before the blade was pressed to his neck with such pressure he had to tilt his chin up. Blood dripped from it to slip down his neck, into his collarbone, and then down his uniform.
Damian, froze, staring at Jason.
“Now then. I expect you’ll behave?” Barnes asked.
After a beat, Damian nodded, and Jason was forced to watch as the guard uncuffed Damian’s wrists, dragged him away from the pipe by his hair, and cuffed them behind him again. The man cinched the cuffs so tight Damian hissed, but didn’t fight it.
When he’d been pulled back to his feet, the guard’s hand knuckle white around his arm, Barnes nodded.
“Good. To the tub.”
“Please.” Jason tried, only to have the blade be pressed a little firmer against his skin.
“Shh, there will be time for that.”
Jason seethed, but stayed still and silent. His eyes followed Damian as his brother was marched over to the tub and shoved to his knees again. He was comically short compared to the tub, and in that position his head only just reached the brim.
The men seemed to realize that whatever they had planned wasn’t going to work as things stood, and there was a scramble of movement as they tried to right their mistake. Jason wondered if the tub had been intended for him, he would have matched it’s height well enough for someone to shove his head into it with ease.
Damian was hauled up and dragged away only for a wooden box to take his place. Then two men dragged him up onto it --he might not be actively fighting but he wasn’t making things any easier for them, and Jason applauded him for that. This time Damian was just high enough he could see down into the water. Two men kept him steady, with hands on either shoulder.
Jason’s stomach dropped as he realized what they were probably going to do next. He was now at the exact same angle Jasone would have been at. He tugged at the cuffs around his wrists, heedless of the blade against his throat.
“You can’t. ” he hissed.
Barnes let the blade drop then wiped it on Jason’s uniform, cleaning the blood off before he returned it to the sheith tucked against his back. Jason relaxed but continued to glare viciously at Barnes.
“If you want to hurt anyone, hurt me.” Jason tried again.
His attempt was totally ignored as Barnes stepped away from Jason and towards Damian, talking as he walked.
“Here’s what we’re going to do to pass the time while we wait for Batman.”
When he reached him, he cupped Damian’s chin in his hand. Jason thought his brother was going to try and bite him again, but it seemed he was still wary after Jason’s stabbing. Just thinking about that reminded him about the way it was throbbing, and the warm blood trickling down his raised arm.
“I really only need one of you as bait for the Bat, and Red Hood here has been a bit of a menace lately.”
Damian tried to pull away, and the man only gripped his chin harder, tugging his face up so he would have to look at him.
“We’ve got conflicting news on whether or not you Bat’s even like him or not, and I know for a fact you’ve tussled before. Maybe you’ve got a bit of a grudge?”
Guilt rose up in Jason’s stomach like heartburn. He had been on the outs with the Bats for a long time. Not in the past six months, but--Jason gulped he’d definitely gone after them. He still wasn’t sure how to address the fact that he’d shot his brother years ago. It had been a mistake, fueled by grief and madness he’d had to work terribly hard to shake. That same kid was in danger again because of him. For all Jason knew, Damian might hold a grudge.
“If you are trying to turn me against him, it will not work.” Damian said, voice firm and even.
Pride, and something warm flooded Jason’s chest for a moment.
“Loyalty.” Jason could see Barnes’ sharp grin even from where he was sitting, “Good. We’ll see how long that lasts.”
He dropped Damian’s chin. Damian squared his shoulders, and tightened his jaw, obviously preparing for a blow. Long seconds ticked by in silence. Jason hated this. This teasing and playing and dragging out of time. First they’d waited apart. Then together. And now?
“Yes,” Barnes said, as if he’d been having a conversation with them.
It made Jason wonder just how many marbles this guy actually had. That in and of itself was frightening. Though, he had to be somewhat sane right? He was this group's leader, and he’d done good enough to stay out of Jason’s hands for a month, and set a successful trap for him.
“I’ve decided the rules. You, Little Bird--” he reached out to pinch one of Damian’s cheeks. The kid looked absolutely furious, but stayed still as the hands holding him tightened.
“-aren’t going to make another peep the rest of the night. If you do, I’ll have Frank blow the Red Hood’s brains out while you watch.” Barnes let go to wave a hand at Frank.
Jason growled.
“That’s not fair!” He yelled, “You can’t put that on him. If you want me dead, just kill me now.”
His brother shot him a glare, and looked like he wanted to tell Jason to shut up. But he didn’t, believing Barnes’ threat.
Barnes shrugged, “If he is as loyal as he claims, he shouldn’t have any trouble following that simple rule.” he turned to Damian, “Right? Your partner’s life is on the line after all.”
Damian bared his teeth at the man, but again, stayed silent. Jason knew that it was easy now, even enraged and irritated with Barnes, to stay quiet, but it wasn’t going to stay that way very long. Barnes wouldn’t let it, and there was still that stupid tub.
Barnes stepped back, away from Damian, and waved his hand, “Begin.”
With that, the two men holding Damian shoved him forward to lean over the side of the tub, and held his head down in the icy water. Damian jerked, and struggled against their holds, but there wasn’t a lot he could do with his hands cuffed and his balance controlled by the men.
They held him for a long time, so long that Damian’s fighting became desperate thrashing against their holds, but they kept his head below the water until finally, they let him up for air.
Damian came up gasping, but silent. Water poured off him, and he already looked paler.
“Well?” Barnes asked, “If you don’t like the prospect of more, I’d suggest letting me know.”
Damian didn’t waste time on any kind of response. He didn’t really even look up at Barnes. Jason watched his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath and prepare for the inevitable.
Barnes shook his head, “I see. Let’s try this again then.”
Immediately, he was shoved back into the water again. Damian struggled less this time, trying to keep ahold of as much energy as possible. Jason suppressed the urge to yell. It’s what Barnes wanted. To get a reaction out of both of them. He wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.
Damian was pulled out again, still stubbornly silent. There was less of a break this time, and Jason knew he hadn’t managed to catch his breath before his head was shoved back down and into the water.
“The thing about this is that the water burns.” Barnes explained, watching with a passive look on his face, “You hold him down long enough he only just starts to drown. All the while the rim of the tub is pressing against his stomach while the freezing water adds pressure to his chest. Then, when he inevitably does try to breathe it hits his throat and nose and is so cold it physically hurts.”
“Asshole!” Jason yelled, unable to bite his tongue, “Let him go!”
Barnes didn’t even look at him.
Damian was pulled out again, this time he was coughing and spluttering, his chest heaving as he sucked in the air he’d been denied in audible gasps. He realized he’d made a kind of noise, and jerked, his head swiveling in Jason’s direction. Barnes chuckled.
“Don’t worry. If I counted that noise the fun would be over too soon, no if you want it to stop you’ll have to beg, or scream. Again.”
The man holding Damian’s head had to wrench his face back in the direction of the tub before they shoved him down again.
This time all Jason could watch was the way Damian’s fingers squeezed tight. Then, as time ticked on his arms raised out behind him in an attempt at balance or control, and Jason could just see green clad fingers, squeezing then grasping as he struggled.
It made his heart twist. His fault. This was his fault. His brother was being tortured all because of him. Because he’d asked Damian to come along. Because he’d thought for one moment he could lean on his family.
Jason tugged at the cuffs again, hard. He held onto that pressure, hoping he could loosen the pipe. He pulled at it until one of the cuffs slipped a bit against his wrist bone and Jason felt a series of blood vessels burst. He bit back a yelp and was forced to relax his hold for a moment.
They were dragging Damian back up again as Jason leaned into the wall and pipes. He felt a pang of guilt as he found relief from his own situation, while Damian was just struggling to breathe. At this point, his breaths were ragged and wheezing and far too thin to provide him with enough oxygen. Jason could easily see his chest rising and falling as he tried to replace his air.
Again, he had to watch his brother be shoved into the icy water. Every time Jason thought they were going to hold him down too long. That this time would be the last and they’d mess up. Or that when Damian came out of the water he’d say something. Jason wanted him to say something. Wanted him to beg and plead and just tell the guy to kill Jason. Just so it would stop.
Pulling at the pipe wasn’t working, so Jason tried tugging his hands out of the cuffs. Where he’d had some room in the closet, the way they’d been secured this time was tighter, he didn’t have nearly as much wiggle room, which meant as hard as Jason tried, he couldn’t get either hand free.
His attention was pulled away as he heard coughing. Damian was hardly able to breathe this time for the coughs that rattled his chest. His once dark skin was sickly and his lips were so pale they almost faded into his face.
What made Jason’s heart twist, was the fact that Damian kept trying to hold the coughs in, like he was still afraid it would be too much noise. Jason watched as Damian tried sucking in air, and pressing his lips together, only for the next series of coughs to explode out of his chest in wet, sick noises.
Barnes didn’t even give him time to stop coughing before he ordered Damian dunked again.
The sixth time they pulled him up, he was crying. He wasn’t sobbing, but Jason could tell by the way his chest hitched now, and how he pressed his lips tight together and swallowed.
“Please.” Jason begged, not really knowing who he was pleading with, Damian or the men, “Please just stop.”
Damian went down again.
Why wouldn’t Damian just say something? Just let him die. Jason wasn’t worth this. He’d wasted too much time being angry. Hurt too many people. He’d hurt Damian , shot him, and now he was going to get him killed.
This time when the two men dragged him back up, Barnes held a hand up to stop them. Between bone rattling coughs and desperately sucking in air, Damian struggled weakly against their hold, still fighting even now.
Barnes approached him. He stopped right beside Damian, reached out brushed dripping hair back, off his head, his voice was surprisingly gentle, “If you are tired of this, just tell me. All it takes is one word and it stops. Red Hood dies, but this--” he waved at the tub, “stops.”
Damian spat in his face.
For a moment there was silence in the room, then the man’s hand twisted in Damian’s hair, and in one motion he shoved the kid’s head down, slamming it not into the water, but against the metal rim of the tub. There was a sick, wet, crack.
Jason thought for sure this would do it, that Damian would cry out, but his brother hadn’t made a sound. He didn’t look like he was moving.
Jason, on the other hand, screamed with rage. He tried again to rip the pipe down, and only succeeded in forcing the cuffs to cut deeper into his wrists, even that stinging pain was distant compared to the fury filling Jason’s chest.
When the man dragged Damian back up by his hair, Jason could see blood dribbling down his face from an ugly red split across his forehead. Damian looked like he was about to be sick.
Barnes tsked at Damian, and ran his hand through the kid’s hair again, his palm smeared dripping blood up his forehead and into Damian’s hair. Damian winced, and tried to jerk away but the two men holding him wouldn’t let him.
“I see you haven’t quite softened up yet. That’s alright. We’ve still got plenty of time.”
Jason wasn’t sure how Barnes knew when Batman was coming or not, but he seemed pretty sure of himself. There was something in his tone that seemed to indicate he was in control of the situation and that they really did have plenty of time.
He didn’t want this to go on any longer. Barnes could drag this out as long as he wanted. And Damian? Damian would deal with it. He’d keep quiet and let them keep shoving him down into that water over and over until he died or they got tired of it. But he wouldn’t make a sound. He was too loyal.
What was worse, was that Jason couldn’t even hope for him to make one on accident. The League had trained Damian against torture techniques similar to this one. Jason couldn’t say if they’d ever done this exact thing to him --though if he found out they had, well just one more reason to kill Ra’s-- but he did know that Damian had been put through something like it.
Jason had, and he hadn’t grown up there.
It hadn’t been drowning, but pain. Pain inflicted through a number of increasingly creative techniques Jason couldn’t quite remember now. It was pretty hazy, pain and sleep deprivation would do that to a person. What he did know, is that he could withstand what they were doing to Damian and worse. Meaning Damian could too.
But just because he could, didn’t mean it was easy or that it didn’t hurt. At this point, Jason had a feeling Damian’s lungs were on fire. The break, even as much as Jason had wanted Damian to have one, was only going to make it worse when they started up again.
“Robin, please!” He tried, aiming his words at his brother, “Just give him what he wants.”
Damian moved to shake his head, and of course, that’s when they shoved him under again. He jerked in surprise, and Jason knew he hadn’t gotten a good breath in. He thrashed and fought with renewed might, but it didn’t change the amount of time they kept him down.
This time, they didn’t give Damian any recovery time. Almost as soon as his head was out of the water it was being shoved back down. Over and over again.
At some point, Damian stopped fighting it, and Jason had to watch his little body being dragged up and down like one of those bird desk toys that dipped its beak into water before rising back up. Only with those, no one ever imagined the bird drowning.
The whole time Jason screamed at them. He was done trying the silent treatment and yelled everything he could think of from threats to bargains to outright begging until his throat was raw. He even started pleading with Damian again, begging him to let him die. No one paid him any mind. Which, he guessed, was the whole point.
It was Jason who was being punished, even if no one had laid a hand on him since he’d been stabbed. His brother was suffering because of him, because he had irritated Barnes and he would continue to suffer unless something changed. And there was nothing Jason seemed to be able to do about it, all he could do was sit there and watch.
Damian couldn’t stop coughing the next time they pulled him up. His whole body jerked, and stopped the rhythm of their torture if just for a moment. Damian sounded torn, like something in him had ripped and when he next coughed red blood dripped from his lips. He almost choked on it, and bit back the next one.
Jason was sick. Damian was going to die. Damian was going to die because of him.
Barnes didn’t bother approaching him this time, “Well, Robin? Tired of it yet?”
Damian shook his head, still coughing. He looked like a drowned puppy. His hands jerked, like he was trying to pull them forward but had forgotten they were cuffed behind him.
“No more.” Jason begged from his stupid place by the pipes, “Please, you’re going to kill him.”
“It’s you I want to kill.” The man said, tilting his head towards Jason at last, “But you are right. This does not seem to be working.”
He closed the gap between himself and Damian in a few strides and grabbed the kid by his tunic. As he did so, the two men who’d been holding him stepped back. With that, Barnes hauled him up and tossed him off the crate, to land on the ground with a wet thunk.
Damian curled in on himself, still coughing and chocking. Now that he was away from the tub, the violent shivering set in, in earnest. His whole body was shuddering.
“New rules.” the man said, slipping the R from Damian’s uniform out of his pocket and clicked it. A red light started flashing on it, indicating the tracker had been turned on.
“One of you is going to die before Batman gets here, that’s a fact. It’s up to you two to figure out who.”
Jason opened his mouth to say it should be him, but the man held up a hand, stopping him.
He flashed Jason that wicked, cruel, grin again and jabbed a foot into Damian’s side. The boy jerked, but didn’t whine like Jason thought he might. Barnes huffed, and reached down to drag Damian up by his hair.
He hung limp, with his legs half folded under him. His face was covered in blood as his head wound was finally allowed to bleed freely again. His mouth was gaping open like a fish dragged from the water and trying desperately to breathe. Jason couldn’t even see his chest moving anymore, just the way shivers wracked his fame.
“I’m not finished. My earlier rule still applies to Robin, he makes a peep and you die. You say another word and he dies. First to make a sound lives.”
“Get him.” the man waved at Jason, then warned, tugging Damian a little higher, “Struggle right now and it’s Robin who dies.”
Jason let himself be pulled down from the pipe. It was risky, but he had a plan. As one of the men re-cuffed him behind his back, Jason let his legs buckle like he’d lost feeling in them. The guy had to reach out and catch him, and as a result, didn’t snap the last cuff nearly tight enough.
Technically, he hadn’t been fighting. Just falling. He glanced up at Barnes to make sure he hadn’t truly messed up and gotten Damian killed, but neither of them had moved.
To play up the act, Jason stumbled forward the first few steps, like his legs were still regaining feeling. He’d only just started walking smoothly, when he was kicked to his knees close to, but still not within reach of, Damian.
His arm was aching, especially now that it had been dropped and pulled behind him. Jason pushed the feeling to the side, and worked carefully to start slipping his looser hand out of the cuffs.
Barnes still only seemed interested in Damian. He tugged the boy even higher, making Damian wince and jerk weakly. Then Barnes leaned over, eyeing him.
“I’d suggest screaming first, I really would rather kill Red Hood.”
He then punched Damian in the stomach and dropped him, waving at his men. Like a pack of ravenous wolves they descended on Robin, and Robin alone. Jason could only just see Damian curl again, defensively this time as the blows started raining down on him.
There was no way Jason was waiting for Bruce to arrive. Damian would be dead by then. He finally popped his hand out of the cuff, scraping skin as he did so. He then launched himself into the fray with a roar. There was no going back now.
Jason threw the first man he could off Damian, hurling him away from the group. He punched another in the face, and shoved his shoulder and bad arm into a third. Jason let rage take over, his vision going red, and he fought like a madman. Fought like a man with his life on the line, but his only thought was for Damian. To get these guys away from him as soon as possible.
He heard Barnes scream at his men to take Red Hood out, Robin forgotten for the moment. Good. Jason needed to let off some steam and pound the men who’d hurt his brother.
Slowly, painfully, Jason culled the herd, dropping one thug after another as they converged on him.
He was onto the last man when he noticed Barnes making his way towards Damian’s still prone form. Jason grabbed the last guy by the arm and threw him, with all his strength, sending him hurtling into Barnes and them both toppling.
Just to be sure, Jason stomped over to them, and grabbed Barnes by the head. He was pinned by the body of his subordinate, but still conscious.
“I told you.” Jason said, grinning, “You weren’t going to win this one.” Then he slammed the man’s head back, into the ground with a satisfying crunch.
Jason paused just long enough to dig through Barnes’s pockets and pull out both Damian’s R and a set of keys then he was by Damian’s side the next second, scooping his brother up into his arms as gently as he could. He dabbed at the blood on Damian’s face with the hem of his sleeve, and found him blessedly free from much damage. He had another bruise forming on his forehead, close to the ugly red split from earlier. Whatever else was hiding under his uniform would be harder to determine, but Jason hoped it wasn’t extensive. Hoped he’d gotten there fast enough.
“Hey, Baby Bat.” Jason said, voice low, “It’s alright. It’s over.”
He shifted Damian so he was leaned against Jason’s chest, with his back and hands exposed so he could get to the cuffs. Jason shoved the key in, and unlocked them, freeing his little brother’s arms. He frowned at the way his wrists were dotted with blood. Jason took a second to unlock his remaining cuff off himself and dropped everything to the ground.
Damian was stirring at last, hands moving to press at Jason’s chest.
“I got you.” Jason soothed, keeping his voice gentle, “We’re going upstairs to wait for Batman.”
He didn’t have any zip ties on him to take care of the men littered around the room, but Jason figured a chair shoved up against the door on the ground floor would work just as well until the police could arrive.
Jason adjusted his grip on Damian, and stood, cradling him. His brother made a whining noise in the back of his throat then jerked back, mouth dropping open in shock. Then he was shoving his hands at Jason’s chest, in a blind panic.
“No!” he yelped, voice like sandpaper, “No, don’t I didn’t mean to.”
“It’s alright,” Jason promised, “It’s okay, Robin. You’re safe. I’m safe, you’re allowed to talk again.”
Instead of calming him down, Jason’s words seemed to release the floodgates Damian had been holding back. Damian curled into Jason’s chest and sobbed openly. It was the first time Jason thought he’d ever heard Damian cry, and it was heartbreaking.
What was worse, was when Damian started coughing too. He would cough, catch his breath, and then sob only for the noise to catch on another cough. It sounded both exhausting and painful, and Jason didn’t know how to fix it. The best he could do was support Damian, and keep him leaned upright so he could breathe. He was relieved to see no new blood being coughed up. Jason figured the initial blood had been from irritation in his throat after so much coughing. Maybe ice or something had simply scraped, or pulled too hard at his throat.
He had no desire to stay in this basement, and so as Damian sobbed into his chest, Jason hauled him upstairs, and kicked the door closed behind him. Damian was still weeping as Jason found a chair to jam under the knob, and the boy was finally quieting as Jason dropped to sit on the steps outside the building.
“”Mm sorry.” Damian mumbled, after a moment, voice still thick with tears.
Jason stared down at the kid, “What for?”
“You got hurt.”
He snorted, “I’m fine and dandy compared to you. If you can worry about me, you can give me a status report, what’s broken?”
Damian buried his face in Jason’s chest again, “Feel bad. Dizzy, and m’chest hurts.”
Jason frowned down at him, that was not a great sign, “Your head too?”
“Yeah, but--” Damian pulled away and pressed at his ribs by his heart, “Heart feels weird.” he wrinkled his nose, “Like it’s going too fast.”
He looked like he was going to say something else, then started coughing. His body curled up in Jason’s arms head shoved against Jason’s chest, as his whole body shook with each successive cough.
Jason rubbed his hand on Damian’s back, hoping it might help and frowned, looking up to the street. Where was Bruce? Batman should be on his way right?
At last Damian caught his breath, but he was wheezing, and to Jason’s ears his breathing sounded wrong.
“I’m going to check your pulse.” he said, and gently pressed two fingers under Damian’s chin, against his throat right where he knew he’d feel his brother’s heartbeat strongest.
It was far too fast.
“Well?”
“Well your body’s still trying to deal with the fact that you were just beaten and half drowned for an hour. It’s racing, but I’m sure it’ll calm down with some rest.”
Jason noticed then, that Damian was also freezing to the touch. He was still shivering even pressed close to Jason. He could kick himself. Of course Damian would be cold. He was soaked from his torso up with ice water, and now they were out in Gotham’s chilly air. He didn’t even have his cape to wrap up in.
Careful not to drop him, Jason slipped his own jacket off one arm at a time, then wrapped Damian in it. His brother allowed the motions without a peep, though this time his silence had less to do with a mandate, and more to do with the fact that he was exhausted and in pain.
Jason rested against the door again, and rubbed circles in Damian’s back and did his best to ignore the throbbing in his other arm. It was nice to have Damian’s weight against him, solid, and heavy, and alive.
The Batmobile came screaming up to the building just a minute later, with Bruce all but throwing himself out of it. He froze, seeing Jason and Damian together, before bolting over to them.
“Hey B-man.” Jason said, relief letting his own exhaustion lace into his voice.
“What happened?”
“Got kidnapped, tortured for a bit, then escaped.”
Batman growled and Jason couldn’t help but feel delighted at how protective it sounded.
“The bad guys are in the basement with a chair shoved against the door. I have no idea where our gear is, and Dames here needs a heap of blankets, doctor, and a Bat hug. Though maybe not in that order.”
Bruce crouched to look them both over. Damian was out of it still, all but snuggled into Jason’s chest. Jason was surprised when Bruce didn’t take Damian away from him, but instead, cupped Jason’s cheek and lifted his head, his expression growing stormy.
Jason remembered the knife, and the blood staining his skin.
“I’m fine. Well, arm’s hurt. But fine. It’s Damian who--”
Bruce tugged him into a hug, pulling Jason into him tightly for a moment before letting go, “I’m glad you’re both alright. Thank you for getting him out of there, and keeping yourself safe.”
Tears rose up to clog Jason’s throat, so all he did was nod his head and mutter, “‘course.”
He let Bruce help him stand, and together they moved to the car. While they walked, Bruce called Nightwing to update him and ask him to swing by the plant to make sure no one escaped.
“I’m sure he’s chomping at the bits to see Damian.” Jason joked, settling the kid in the backseat of the car.
Bruce hummed.
“Though, I bet he’s also hoping one of the men in there will try to fight him so he can punch someone too. I once saw him break a guy’s arm for trying to snatch the kid.” Jason added, brushing Damian’s hair back off his forehead.
Damian was really out of it, still shivering, and his chest was rising too rapidly for him to be breathing normally. Jason really wanted to get him home and warm.
“Hey, give me your cape, unless you’ve got a blanket on hand.” Jason asked, holding a hand out behind him.
When Bruce didn’t respond or tuck a cape into Jason’s outreached hand he turned. Bruce looked, conflicted. Jason had gotten pretty good at reading that expression on Bruce’s face even with the cowl on. He’d often looked conflicted at Jason in their early days.
“What?” Jason asked.
“He’s worried about you too.”
Oh. Jason hadn’t been thinking about that. He’d counted on Bruce to come, but there was something about his siblings going feral over him he hadn’t really considered. Jason would of course have been furious in their shoes if anyone else had been in his place. But--
“Jaylad.” Bruce’s voice was soft, as he put a hand on Jason’s shoulder.
And that’s all Bruce really had to say. That old nickname held so much love and tenderness and memories of a better time. A time Jason had been confident Bruce and Dick would have moved mountains for him.
“I know.” He said, “I do, and we can talk about it more later but right now Dames is most important. He’s hurt, and I want to make sure there’s no water in his lungs.”
Bruce frowned at that, and nodded, “Tell me everything while we drive.”
It was not a pleasant experience repeating what had happened in that basement. While Jason talked, he kept glancing back at Damian. The kid was still shivering, even covered by Bruce’s cape and Jason’s jacket with the car’s heat on high. More concerning was the fact that he had started coughing again. It wasn’t constant, but it was frequent enough it worried Jason. He probably needed an x-ray to make sure nothing was broken in addition to making sure nothing was still swimming around in his lungs.
Bruce’s expression grew darker and darker as they drove, and Jason couldn’t stop the twinge of fear that maybe he was mad at him. That somehow Bruce was going to hold everything against Jason. For not escaping earlier. For not convincing Barnes to hurt him instead of Damian. For asking Damian to join him on this disaster of a mission. For the simple fact that his youngest had been tortured.
And Jason wouldn’t blame him. Now that they were safe, and moving towards home waves of fresh guilt were hitting Jason. It was his fault. He’d invited Damian. He’d failed to see the trap. He hadn’t escaped when he might have been able to. And it had been because of him Barnes had targeted his brother. Damian had suffered because of Jason and there was no way around that simple fact.
When they arrived in the cave, Jason tugged Damian out of the car while Bruce moved to help Alfred prep both gurneys since apparently they were going to insist on treating Jason too.
“Hey, Squirt, we’re moving.” Jason said, his voice quiet.
His brother moaned, and then harrumphed, throwing his arms around Jason’s neck as he was lifted. It was adorable and Jason was going to hold it over Dick’s head forever that he wasn’t there to see it.
Then Damian hissed as Jason fully lifted him, and his weight shifted. Guilt flooded over him again and on instinct Jason hugged him a bit tighter. Jason’s heart picked up the pace and he couldn’t help but wonder what they’d find when they started looking Damian over.
Bruce had been mad. How much more so when bruises showed up? If there were complications from the water? When he got a good look at the ugly split in the skin of Damian’s forehead.
“Father.” Damian’s voice called, still raspy and as worn as Jason’s felt, “Todd is being an idiot.”
Jason’s mouth dropped open in shock. Damian was glaring up at him and Jason had no idea why. Unless he too was angry with him? At this point, Jason had no idea what to think.
“What’s going on--Oh Jay let me carry him and have Alfred look at your arm.” Bruce said, as he stepped over to them. He’d pulled back the cowl and Jason could clearly see the worry on his face now.
He tugged Damian out of Jason’s arms relieving him both of the weight pressing on his arm, but also the comfort of having his brother close at hand.
Jason followed at a distance behind Bruce to the med bay. Alfred directed him up on a cot, while Bruce settled Damian on one. He paused to rub Damian’s arms for a second and frown.
Damian allowed himself to be poked, prodded, and patched up only when Jason agreed to sit on his own cot. The whole time Alfred was cleaning and stitching the wound in Jason’s arm --a wound that was mercifully not as bad as it could have been-- he kept his eye on the neighboring bed.
Damian had pulled his mask off, and rubbed at dried tears on his cheeks while his dad poked at his ribs, looking for breaks. He was doing his best not to wince as bruises were found and when Bruce declared one of his ribs broken.
By the time they’d moved to x-rays to check for any extra damage or liquid in Damian’s lungs, Jason was freed from having to sit on the cot, and ushered off to the showers. He washed the grime of the night off him as quickly as he could and hurried back out into the cave.
When Jason returned, so had Dick. The man was fussing over Damian like an overbearing parent, and actually squawked when Jason heard the words “dunked repeatedly”. Damian was bundled in a thick blanket and swatting at Dick halfheartedly. Jason wanted to tell them both to knock it off and get Damian settled in bed.
He also still wanted to see his brother once more to soothe the remaining guilt in his stomach, but couldn’t bring himself to interrupt Dick and Damian’s reunion. So Jason stayed on the outskirts, inching his way over to the computer to write up his own report of the botched mission.
Jason finished his report and then sat there, staring at the words on the screen. Reading over the details again and again like that would make any of them stop existing.
“Dames said you’ve been beating yourself up all night.” Dick’s voice made Jason jump.
He spun in his chair to find his brother standing over him. He shrugged.
“Well it is my fault.”
“Sure.” Dick said, leaning against the table, “but it’s also not. The night was a bad one, and in my book you saved the day.” he cast a look over to Damian, who was now laying down on the cot, with an IV bag hanging above him. Jason couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not.
“B might have been too late, for both of you.” he turned his gaze back on Jason.
“I wasn’t going to let that happen.” Not again, not to another Robin.
“I know. And you did good, Jay.”
Jason rolled his eyes, “Everyone says that, but I didn’t do anything. I just yelled a lot.”
“And took down a room full of armed men. I saw them, Jason. Saw the room.”
Suddenly, Dick moved forward, leaning down to drag Jason into a hug, “I’m sorry.” he said, squeezing him, “If I could have spared you that, I would have.”
Jason leaned into the hug for a moment before pulling away, and shaking his head, “No. No, this is wrong. You should be mad at me. Bruce should be mad at me. Even Damian, especially Damian.”
His brother frowned.
“Damian almost died tonight. Did he or Bruce tell you why?” Jason was seething, “That monster hurt him because of me. Because I kept interrupting his work, and he wanted to get back at me, by going after someone I care about. He did it specifically because I--” Jason’s chest hitched and his throat tightened, “It’s my fault.”
“Jay--”
“No!” Jason swatted Dick’s hand out of the way as his brother reached for him, “No, I don’t deserve sympathy. I shouldn’t have asked for help. I work better alone anyway.”
He shoved his chair back, and stood. “Go keep an eye on the gremlin. It’s you he’ll want to see anyway.” he said, then brushed past Dick.
His insides were boiling. Jason didn’t know what to think or do or or anything. He just knew he couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t keep listening to people try to comfort him. Like he was the victim, not Damian. Like Jason deserved any sympathy at all.
He stormed up the stairs to the manor and let his feet carry him on autopilot. Jason found himself stepping into the manor’s brightly lit kitchen. He had to stop and blink at the brightness. It was thankfully empty, but probably not a great hiding spot.
Though, Jason didn’t really need a hiding spot. Just somewhere to breathe. Somewhere no one was going to bother him for a bit. With everyone down in the cave keeping an eye on Damian and waiting for the others to return from patrol, Jason was pretty confident he had the room to himself for a while.
He didn’t want to sit, so instead he put water in the kettle and flipped the burner on. Then stood there, staring as the small flames flickered against the bright, happy, green of the kettle, crawling up the sides and sending waves of fog drifting across the bottom as heat connected with the cooler surface of the kettle and water inside.
Standing and watching it wasn’t enough, so Jason busied himself with choosing a tea, black, loose leafed, and a blend Jason knew Damian favored. At the back of his mind he thought about taking a cup down to the kid. As an offering of sorts.
He measured out enough leaves for two large mugs, enjoying the gentle way the dried tea clinked against the metal of the strainer. It was far more pleasant than listening to cuffs against an unmoving pipe.
Soon the kettle whistled at him. Jason clicked the burner off, and poured water into a prepared teapot. He balanced the lid over the strainer and set a timer on the microwave to let it brew.
Waiting wasn’t great, but Jason couldn’t even think about food without his stomach twisting. There was nothing in the kitchen to tidy. Alfred had already made the place spotless. So beyond dumping out the extra water and drying off the kettle Jason had nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs.
He leaned on the counter and rubbed at his wrists, eyeing the deep red lines still ringing each one, and the discolored spots against his wrist bones where blood vessels had popped as he’d tried --and failed-- over and over to break free and get to Damian.
Jason dropped his head in his hands. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let his brother get hurt tonight. And yet, he was the one in the kitchen making tea, while Damian was laying in a cot with an IV in his arm and everyone praying he didn’t catch pneumonia.
He was a horrible brother.
“The timer went off.” A voice said from behind him, “I would remove the leaves if you do not want the tea to grow bitter.”
Jason spun on his heel and found Damian standing behind him. A fluffy blanket was wrapped around his shoulders, and an oversized bandage peeked out from under loops of gauze wrapped around his head.
“What the hel--heck Damian! You need to be in bed!”
“If you are not going to tend to the tea, I will.” his brother said, pushing around him to reach for the pot.
For all his confidence, Damian wobbled, and Jason had to reach out to catch him before he fell.
“You. Should. Not. Be. Up.” he repeated, scooping the boy and blanket into his arms.
“Richard said you were upset, and when no one came up to find you I thought I must rectify the situation.” Damian said, leaning heavily into him. His voice was whisper soft.
“And what, Bruce just let you waltz up the stairs to find me?” Jason said, settling Damian onto one of the stools by the bar.
The lump that was Damian shook his head, “Cain radioed in with a request for information and I left when they were distracted.” After a moment he added, “I took the elevator.”
He looked about ready to drop, his skin was washed out, his eyes watery and heavy, and his hands clenched tightly around the blanket. Even his words were laced with exhaustion.
Jason huffed.
Damian pointed a blanket clad finger at the teapot, “The tea, Todd.”
“Brat.” Jason said, and turned to deal with the tea. He lifted the strainer and set it on a plate, then poured two mugs of tea, dropping some sugar and milk into Damian’s while leaving his own black.
The kid was still sitting up when he turned around, which was a good sign, but Jason could hear his labored breathing from where he stood.
“Dames.” he said, voice gentle, “You need some sleep to help your body recover, and being up and out of bed is not helping you warm up.”
“But tea will.” Damian said, holding out both hands for his mug.
Jason rolled his eyes, but handed him the mug. Damian pressed it tightly between his palms, giving up on holding the blanket. He paused and just held it for a moment before lifting it to his lips to sip.
“It is excellent.”
“Even with a few seconds of extra steeping?” Jason teased.
“Tt.”
Jason stayed standing, his own mug held in both his hands, and just watched Damian. He should bundle the kid back up and haul him downstairs again, but Damian seemed content to sit on the stool and sip at his tea. His shaking stilled a bit, and even his breathing seemed a bit more even.
“I am sorry.” Damian said, at last, his voice quiet, “I put you in a position where you felt like you failed.”
“No, Damian--” Jason started, but the boy shook his head so violently it made Jason afraid he was going to make himself dizzy.
“I heard what you told Richard.” He looked up at Jason from his mug, “I am not upset, you know that, right? I believed everything you told that man. Every offer to take my place or request to die. You were just as much a victim as I was.”
“I--” Jason was at a loss for words, and his throat was tight and hot again, pressure building behind his eyes, “I should have done better.”
“Do not be an idiot. You could not have, there was no convincing him out of his game,” Damian spat the word, “He spent an hour teasing me with it before you even arrived. The odds were stacked against us, Todd.”
He tapped his finger on the mug then ran it along it’s rim, “But you also beat him. You tricked him into thinking he was going to win, and made sure no one had to die.”
Jason realized that Damian had been prepared to die for him. Not just when he’d been told they’d have to choose, or when Barnes revealed the details of his plan, but even before then. He’d planned this whole time to make sure Jason walked out of there.
“You’re an incredible kid, you know that?” Jason said.
“Tt, this is not about me.” Damian told him, “I am trying to tell you that you are deserving of some comfort. Tonight, as Richard likes to put it, sucked.”
“You’re right. It did.” Jason laughed, “I’ll make a deal with you, you can tell me just how great a brother I am while I carry you back down to the med bay, and then you stay in bed this time.”
Damian considered his words, “Will you stay, when we are downstairs?”
“‘Course. If I’m not there, Dick might accidentally smother you to death with all his coddling.” He held his tea out to Damian, “You carry the tea, I’ll carry you.”