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Jason was aware of very little when he first woke up. There was a bright, white light above that blinded him until he could barely see the moving figures in the room. Where was he again? He felt dead. This is what he felt like when he was dead, and he barely noticed his breath growing faster and faster until a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. He flinched, melting deeper into the bed he was lying on, and the hand was moved away immediately.
Who touched him? Was it his mother? He had to be dead. Jason felt like he just got blown up, and for him, there was only one ending to that story. He remembered the men, the shooting, and how he took off and activated the explosives he had stashed in his helmet, but other than that, his mind was blank.
He found that he wanted the hand on his shoulder back. While it had been surprising, it had comforted him, but he still didn't like not knowing who it was. Why were his eyes taking so long to come into focus? He groaned, a sound that just asked for pity, and as soon as he realized what had done, he willed the sheets to swallow him whole. They did not.
"Jaylad?"
Fuck.
There was only one man who called him that.
"Go 'way," he mumbled half-heartedly and moved to turn in his bed, ignoring the spikes of pain that shot through his body at the action.
That was when he saw them, his lurid green wings free from the duct tape he had painstakingly applied before going out on patrol that night (if it was still that night). They were glowing yet again. If they were out, that meant that they had seen them, that they knew that he was even more irredeemable than they had previously though, so why did Bruce's voice sound so gentle? It confused him. Bruce never spoke to him with that tone in his voice; he was usually angry with Jason.
Bruce sighed but did not move from his spot. "Jason, you need to stop binding your wings. It's too dangerous."
"And going out at night in costume isn't?"
"Dr. Thompkins found several fractures in your ribs." He replied, raising one of his eyebrows.
Jason waved him off, ignoring the pain and the bandages that tried to restrict his movement. "That could've been from the explosion, old man."
"Maybe," Bruce acquiesced, his lip thinning. "But some of them had already started healing. They were too old to all be from that."
"Doesn't matter."
The older man shook his head and sighed. "It does, Jaylad. You got hurt."
"Why the fuck do you care?" Jason glared bullets at him. "You never seemed to before."
"I'm your father. Of course I care." He looked almost hurt at his accusation. "You're hurting yourself."
"Leave me alone." The second Wayne son sank back into the pillow and blankets, hoping that they would swallow him whole and take him away from Bruce. "'m done talkin' now."
His eyes quickly grew heavy afterwards. His advanced healing always used a large amount of his energy, but he wished he could stay awake longer. By the time he had fallen asleep, Bruce hadn't said anything. He didn't leave either, just sat there and stared at him with sad eyes. Jason wished he had the energy to smack the look off of his face.
"You got a little something on your wings."
"No shit." Jason cursed as he adjusted in his bed. "I got blown up."
He wanted to get the fuck out of dodge, to go back to his nice safe house. The Batcave wasn't as safe by any stretch of the imagination, and he certainly didn't like having his wings out where someone he didn't like (the Bats) could see them. They must truly know how far he had fallen now, that he was irredeemable. Logically, he knew that guessing people's personalities based off their wing color was no more accurate than astrology, but it still hurt to think about. He didn't want to talk to the Bats. When he was younger, his wings use to be the purest of whites, but they had since mutated into a disgustingly green hue.
"Let me help you?" Roy furrowed his brow. "While you were sleeping, Kori went to go get your preening stick. We knew you wouldn't want to borrow someone else's. I have my own with me right now."
Damn right.
He would never ask to use one of the Bats' sticks.
"All right," he bit his lip. "Just you though. I don't want anyone else helping me."
"I know, Jaybird." The older man's voice turned more soothing. "I'm going to take care of you. Trust me; I will."
Jason's eyes softened, but he was unwilling to express too much emotion where someone who was unwelcome might see it. "I do trust you."
Roy smiled. "Do you want to be on your back or your stomach?"
He groaned at the thought. If he was going to stay on his back, it would irritate the fuck out of the bullet wound in his ass, but if he was going to flip over, it'd fuck with his ribs. Either way, it was not going to be the most comfortable experience he had ever had in his life. Then again, when did he ever get a break? He didn't deserve to have a painless experience.
"Stay like this." Jason clenched his fists on the blankets as he kicked himself up into a sitting position.
"Don't fuck up your ribs."
"I won't."
He was vaguely aware of what he had done before last falling unconscious, and it made him shiver in disgust. How could he have been so weak? Especially in front of someone like Dick Grayson? It should have been obvious that he wasn't in Ethiopia, that he wasn't dead, but Jason had been confused in the moment. The pain, the never ending ringing in his ears, and more had just been so, so similar to the warehouse he had died in. He hadn't been able to stop the tears, the panic, and the desperation, and Dick had seen it all.
Fuck it.
Jason barely registered his partner finding a seemingly endless supply of pillows and blankets to construct a makeshift nest out of. Instead, he stared at the two preening sticks in his hands, one belonging to Roy and one to him. The older man finished setting up nest around him and carefully stepped in, sitting across from his partner with his fiery red wings flared out behind him. Despite being larger than his partner, he couldn't help but feel smaller. Roy carried his wings with more confidence than Jason would ever be able to do.
Jason held the preening stick up and mindlessly flicked it through a few of his partner's feathers. He'd been ignoring the spikes of pain that had been shooting throughout his body because what else was he to do? He'd been blown up again. His entire body ached, so there was no way of avoiding it. Roy's face turned downwards into a frown at each movement he made.
"You're hurt. Let me do the work."
"But-"
"My wings are fine, Jaybird." Roy promised. "Yours, however, are not."
Jason narrowed his eyes. "Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel special."
"It's a talent."
He groaned as his partner moved closer to him, burying his face in the older man's neck. If the Bats knew what was good for them, they wouldn't interrupt what they were doing. It was well known that you do not intrude into someone else's nest without expressed permission, which they weren't about to get.
Roy was careful with him and mindful of all of the wounds he had received. His wings were fucked, and even Jason knew it. Blood and grime were ingrained in each of his rachis and encrusted on all his feathers' vanes. It would take a lot of work to get it all out, and Roy would have to use some water too. Jason hated it when he used water. It always weighed down his wings to a point where it drastically slowed down his movements, and it made it impossible for him to fly.
His shoulders stiffened when Roy first brought the damp rag to his feathers and carefully scraped off layers of dirt. Dr. Thompkins had been in too much of a rush to stop him from bleeding out to worry about the state of his wings, and the archer hadn't let the Bats anywhere near them without Jason's permission. That permission was hard to get seeing as he was unconscious.
"Try to relax, Jay."
"I don't want to be here." He knew he sounded pitiful, but he couldn't bring himself to give a damn at the moment. "Can we leave?"
Roy sighed. "Not yet. Dr. Thompkins has you under observation."
Jason fell silent again as Roy shifted some of his feathers back into alignment. The duct tape had pressed them together in strange patterns, and its removal ripped a few of them out all together. He had never been a fan of his wings, but the patchwork look to it made it worse in his opinion. He tried to relax into the nest his partner had made. Jason knew he wouldn't be able to, not when he was in pain and certainly not when he was in the Batcave. He tried to force a purr out of the back of his throat, but it didn't come out right. Roy squeezed his shoulder.
They had a few more moments of peace before the door leading to the medbay opened abruptly, and Dick entered. Roy and Jason stared at him, challenging him to trespass on their territory, but the eldest Wayne son seemed content to mess around with a random piece of machinery he definitely didn't know how to use.
He's faking being busy just to stick around here.
"Dick," the archer growled under his breath.
His longtime friend turned around, caught. "Yes, Roy?"
"Out."
"But-"
"Out!"
They only had fifteen more minutes before the next intruder came in, but this one was not nearly as unwelcome. Jason nearly didn't see him over Roy's shoulder (squirt was short). Damian entered the medbay, and he was carrying a large bag full of mystery items which he set down nearby before staring at the two of them. It took Jason a moment to realize that he was waiting to be acknowledged.
"Damian."
"Ahki. Harper." He nodded at the two men. "I have brought you some supplies."
Roy furrowed his brow. "What's in the bag?"
"I thought that perhaps Todd could have broken a blood feather, and I did not see any cornstarch or extra bandages nearby." Damian scrunched his nose up in disapproval. "You should be more prepared."
The archer flushed red a bit, but he nodded nevertheless. "You're right."
"I also brought you sustenance." He added on. "I'm sure Pennyworth will be down with something later, but he would not approve of what I have for you right now."
Jason perked up immediately, knowing that those words could only mean one thing. Damian had brought them unhealthy food, the best type for snacking, so he summoned the bag with a few grabby hands and a pull. Damian had stashed some chips, popcorn, and other crap that Jason could have sworn he'd never share.
"I shall leave you two now." His younger brother eyed Roy suspiciously.
"Thank you, Dami."
"Tt."
He had broken a few blood feathers as it turned out, and he groaned upon seeing them. Blood feathers, also called pin feathers, were still developing and therefore was connected to his blood supply, and damaging them could cause bleeding. Jason winced as his partner pulled them out. They'd grow back, but there would be a few bare spots for a while, just another thing to make his wings look strange and off-putting.
"It's almost over." Roy promised when he felt the other man flinch.
"I don't need someone to hold my hand." Jason grumbled darkly as he continued. "I'm a grown ass man."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to let go?"
"...No."
"Then shush."
He had been almost done getting rid of the damaged feathers when they started hearing someone else's footsteps coming closer. Jason automatically growled at the intruder and burrowed deeper into their nest of blankets. He peeked his eyes over the top to stare at whomever came when they showed up. Despite how it may look, it was not a submissive position. Jason was hiding himself, so when the intruder arrived, he'd be able to launch an ambush attack. It was a common tactic when unfamiliar people approached one's nest uninvited.
"Jaylad?" He heard Bruce's voice before he saw the man.
He growled a bit louder this time, eyes glaring bullets into Bruce as he slowly approached them. Roy shot a warning glance at the Wayne patriarch, but the man didn't turn back. Who the fuck did Bruce think he was? He was not entitled to Jason and his nest. Roy put a firm hand on his partner's shoulder to stop him from attacking the man before standing and meeting Bruce halfway.
"What do you want?" Roy deadpanned, standing between Jason and Bruce to block their access to each other.
Bruce stared at his second son from over the archer's shoulder. "Is he all right?"
"He'll be fine." He bit back at the man. "You probably already knew that. Why are you here?"
He shifted on his two feet, caught in the act. "I wanted to see him. We have things we need to discuss."
"And that can't wait until we're done here?"
"It would go faster if you had another set of hands, no?"
Jason's wings flared out, the normally soft feathers becoming sharp on the edges. It was clear that he did not like the idea of Bruce helping him, of Bruce entering his nest. He growled in warning and slowly picked himself up from the blankets to rise to his impressive height, his wings extending all the way to match him. Jason was displaying the exact behavior of someone who felt threatened, and Bruce barely seemed to notice.
Roy shot his partner a pointed look. "See? He doesn't want you here."
"But-"
"Has he ever actually invited you into his nest? Even when he was younger?"
Bruce sat for a moment, stunned. Now that he thought about it, no, Jason had not once let him into his nest. When he was younger, he was very protective of his belongings and didn't like to share, so he never let Bruce in. Even though he had proved that he wasn't going to steal the boy's food, water, or clothing, Jason had been on constant high alert nevertheless. Bruce had been patient with his son, but Jason had never actually let him in before he died.
He remembered the night he came back to the manor without Jason. He had collapsed onto the remnants of his son's nest in his room and stayed there until his scent was gone, the scent that had been one of the only things he had left of the boy. That nest was still in Jason's old room, and it had remained untouched ever since.
"He didn't." Roy answered for him. "You need to wait for him to invite you. It took Kori and I a long ass time to get him comfortable enough to let us in, and you guys haven't exactly been on the best of terms recently."
"You're saying that-"
"Show him that he can trust you instead of invading his nest, yes." He groaned. "I thought that would have been obvious, but apparently not."
With one last sorrowful look to his son, who was still growling furiously at him, Bruce retreated back up the stairs and into the manor. He'd give his son some time. He and everyone else would show Jason that he was one of them, that he was not the outcast or the black sheep or whatever else he thought he was. Jason was one of their own, and they had clearly been neglecting their duties towards him. It was time to change.