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Jason saw the shadow first, fleeting in the rare, moon-lit night. Then he heard the thump of boots hitting the roof. Green tinted his vision and he blinked it away.
“Hood,” He heard a grunt. So not a social visit, then.
Jason counted five seconds then slowly turned around, his back to the warehouse, careful to keep the anger from his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked in a clipped tone.
Bruce gave an impassable stare, then shifted and started at the forlorn building. Dark, with no sign of movement. He answered with a low rumble. “There was movement on Scarecrow.” Bruce, apathetic as always, didn’t continue.
Fuck this. “No one else could have tailed me?” Even the fucking Replacement would have been better.
“Nightwing is off-world. Robin-” And fuck if that didn’t hurt. “Robin is unavailable. Oracle is offline. Agent A has the week off.”
“Whatever. I've been on this case for three months, B. Don’t you dare just—”
“The door is sealed. You need me.” You can’t pretend you fucking want me, Bruce.
Jason took off his helmet, revealing narrowed eyes behind a plain black domino mask. He firmly grasped his helmet, wildly throwing it against the other warehouse’s roof access window. It exploded, glass flying everywhere, cracking the frame and leaving a fragile-looking door.
“Fuck off, Bruce. I don’t need you.” Stay away from me. With that, Jason leaped across the divide and crossed over to the door, wrenching it out of its cracked hinges. He ran down the stairs. Bruce followed.
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It was a trap.
“Hood—”, started Bruce.
“Don’t even start, Bruce.” Jason eyed the vents as an ominous-looking red fog seeped out. “Don’t fucking lecture me. I’m not your kid. I know it was bait.”
Bruce nodded, and then brusquely held out an oxygen mask. “You need it.”
Jason was about to decline, his pride still bruised from his earlier decisions, and realized he didn’t have an extra rebreather. Fuck. He snatched the mask from Bruce’s hand and slapped it on. “Where’s yours?”
Bruce gave Jason another imperious stare and then turned to leave. “Let’s go.”
“B, the gas-”
“Let’s go.” An order. Bruce stormed through the gas to the door underneath the bright EXIT sign.
“What the fuck- ” The door was wrenched open and Jason quickly walked out, to the outside air, tossing off the borrowed rebreather. There was no answer from Bruce, who was leaning against the warehouse side.
Bruce looked as if the entire world was pushing against every bone in his body.
“Hey,” Jason snapped. “Old man, wake up.”
A shudder ran through Bruce’s body.
Something was wrong.
“Jason.” Bruce croaked out. “Where are you?”
Considering that Jason was three feet in front of Bruce and in full view of him, something was very wrong.
“B? Did you inhale too much toxin?” Jason patted Bruce’s belt, searching for the antidote. Finally finding the right pouch, he pulled out the antidote and jabbed the syringe into a vein.
“Come on, B. I’ll get you to the Cave.”
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Jason wondered why he chose to do this. Driving a limp Bruce back to the Batcave and using his old password to unlock the gate… pity seemed the name of the soft feeling rolling around his chest.
He replaced you. The Pit whispered in his ear, its tones familiar.
Shut up, Jason thought back as he carried Bruce to a MedBay bed. Bruce had been surprisingly unresponsive, even after the antidote. A new strain…?
Jason dumped his passenger onto the bed and removed Bruce’s cowl. Bruce twitched and then held his hand out as if he expected Jason to take it. Fuck no.
“Jaylad?” Nope. Hell no. Not today. “ Jay, where are you?” Tears began to pour out of Bruce’s closed eyes.
Holy shit.
“The Joker’s coming, Jason- you have to go! He’s going to kill you! You have to go!” Sobs tore through Bruce’s body, the bed shaking. “No-no- No ! You can’t be dead!”
He’s seeing my death.
Jason stood half-turned toward the bed, half toward the door, unsure of the right move. His chest tightened with each inhale.
Dad.
“COME BACK! DON’T HURT HIM- DON’T! Don’t hurt him, PLEASE!” Screams echoed through the enclosed area. “Jaylad - please come back, please, my son -”
Bruce stopped calling, choking on a cry. He kept shaking, muttering half-nonsensical words.
Jason took a breath, then straightened.
I’m not a monster.
Jason’s need to comfort won over his fading grudge. He trudged back to Bruce, grabbing his arm in a parody of comfort. “I’m here, B.”
Bruce latched onto Jason’s arm with surprising strength, pulling his entire body onto the bed. Jason cursed, attempting to pull away to no avail. He was stuck, especially when Bruce wrapped his arms around his prisoner. Jason wasn’t about to hurt someone under fear toxin, so there was only one option left: to stay.
For a few minutes, Jason spewed half-hearted insults, trying valiantly and failing to dislodge himself from Bruce’s iron grip. After a while though, he was resigned to his fate, grumpily leaning back against the cot and Bruce’s warm body. The heartbeat beneath him was as steady as Jason remembered.
“Whatever old man,” he muttered. “I'll stay for a little bit. Just till it gets outta your system.”
It might have been imagined, but Bruce had the ghost of a smile on his face as Jason closed his eyes, hoping that it wasn’t all just a dream.
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