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The room was dark. He couldn't see. His head hurt, and there was a cloth tied around his mouth. His hands motioned to remove the makeshift gag, only being able to tug against rope. He was tied up, his legs included.
He scoped the room, unable to see more than a foot away from his face. He writhed on the floor a moment, cold and damp concrete irritating his skin. His body hurt, pain searing every time he moved.
Why did he hurt?
His struggle came to a halt when he heard footsteps approaching. The taps were light, as if the person was enlightened to find him.
"H- ..Hello?" He tried to ask, his voice small, hoarse, and unheard through the cloth.
The footsteps continued, and he could hear them walk in circles around him. The presence stopped, standing right in front of his face. He couldn't make out the shoes due to the low lighting.
The person walked around once more, standing behind his head this time. The loud click of a button echoed through the large room, immediately dousing it in fluorescent white lights.
He closes his eyes as tight as possible, the light sending a searing pain through his head.
"Now, what do we have here?" The voice rings, laughter in his words.
No, this isn't- this can't be right.
He feels a kick to his spine, making him groan and roll onto his back, opening his eyes to meet his captor's.
He freezes in fear and watches the horrid, red smile stretch even farther across the face.
"Welcome back! You passed out just as I was getting to the good part!"
He can't move, his body betraying his mind's flight response, he's terrified. He stares with wide eyes as the clown bends down for a moment to pick something up.
SCCRRAAPE
No. No, no no no no no no, please. Not that, not the crowbar. Anything but the crowbar, please.
The Joker falls back into an upright stance with a concerning amount of grace. He hears the giggles, knows that he's being observed, that his struggling is futile.
Please, no. He can't handle it. Where's Bruce? He’s in danger. Why isn't dad here? Where's Dick?
"It's game time, kiddo. Let's try this out, shall we?"
No, no, stop. Someone save him.
"Tell me which one hurts more. A?"
THUNK
C'mon, please. He can't. It hurts. It hurts so bad. Someone, anyone, please. Help.
"Or B?"
THUNK
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Jason flies up from the lying position, tears welled up in his eyes. He gasps, lungs desperately searching for the air that he was convinced got knocked out of him.
His first exhale is a sob, followed by many more. He can't breathe, it hurts. His ribs and throat burn. He needs out. He can't take anymore. He brings his arms to cover his face - he can move, oh God, he can move. He needs to get out. Away from him, his crowbar, the warehouse, the bomb.
He shuffles onto his knees as fast as he can but is cut off in his motion. He sobs louder than he thought possible when he feels a hand on his arm. He quickly jerks away from the touch, not wanting the pain that comes with it. He still can't see, tears filling his eyes when he's able to open them.
He cries out when the hands try to steady him, sputtering a repeat of "No! Please, I'm sorry." and some gibberish.
He's already prepared for the hit to land. It doesn't though. It doesn't hurt, not anymore.
A deep voice is speaking at him, he can barely understand it. The voice is speaking softly and he's too busy sobbing. A hand hesitantly cups his cheek, yet stays when he flinches. It’s gentle, but the Joker was never gentle. He attempts to open his eyes, only getting a blurry glimpse.
It's not Joker, it's not him. He can make out faint black hair and a blue hoodie, the voice coming from the man. He tries his best to hear the voice, his sobbing turning into whimpers.
"..r me? Jay? It's okay, you're okay. It's alright. You're safe." It's being spoken to him, not at him, he realizes. The voice, it's Dick's.
Jason’s breath hitches. He wants to cling onto Dick, to get the comfort he desperately needs, but he can’t. Dick doesn’t care, he never did. He hated Jason when he was younger, why would that be any different now?
He pulls back, clambering backwards as he attempts to hold his breath. He pushes Dick’s hands away from him, shaking violently with the effort of holding back sobs.
"Hey, Jay. You're okay, I promise.” Dick furrows his brows and reluctantly retracts his hands.
No. No, I’m not okay. I need to get out, stop touching me.
"Don't worry, Little Wing. He's gone, I'm here. He's not gonna hurt you." Dick whispers, knowing exactly what the nightmare was about.
Don’t call me that. You’re lying. You let him hurt me the first time.
"You're safe, in the manor. We're on the couch, look. You're alright." Dick attempts, touching Jason’s arm and wincing when the younger boy flinches.
I’m not safe, I never was safe. You let him hurt me. All you’ve ever wanted to do is hurt me.
"Jay?" Dick says softly, not receiving a reply. He hesitates for a moment before continuing his sentence.
“I don’t think I’m any help. If you want, I can go get Bruce and ask Alfr- '' His sentence is cut off by Jason yelping out a “No!” before audibly sobbing once more. “No, no no no, please. No Bruce. He won’t come, h-he doesn’t want-” Dick shushes him through his rambling.
Neither of them want him. No one here does. They never did. Joker loved him more than Bruce ever did.
“Hey, hey. I’m sorry for asking. We’ll leave Bruce out of it, ‘kay?” Dick tries, beginning to panic himself as Jason falls to the ground, backing away. “No Bruce, I promise.”
Liar.
“Jay, Jay. I won’t. I’m not going anywhere, I’m here to help.”
Liar.
He can't, he’s had enough. Jason glances around the room quickly, eyes spotting the open window behind him. He turns and bolts as fast as he can on his shaky legs, jumping down from the window. He doesn’t stop when he hears Dick’s panicked yells of his name, running forward until he can’t anymore.
It’s not just joker, they’re all out to get him.
He eventually falls to his knees, in the middle of the woods. It’s chilly out, but he doesn’t seem to care, too distracted by the overwhelming alarm coursing through his body. He’s tired, and so dizzy. And suddenly, it all hurt like it did before.
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“Forehand?”
THUNK
“Or backhand?”
THUNK
He cries out in pain, only encouraging Joker’s bright smile. He’s coughing now, blood hacking up from his lungs.
“Oh, this is just so fun isn’t it?” The clown laughs. “Good ol’ Batsy never gave you this much attention, did he?”
“Fuck you.” He manages to spit, venom weak in his words.
“Awh, c’mon Jason! It’s been months, do you really still believe in salvation?” He rolls his eyes, crouching to lean his face over the younger. “Definitely seems like the Bat is busy, though. Using his time to train the new Robin, instead of looking for you.”
No. That’s not… Bruce wouldn’t replace him. Would he?
The Joker grins, before his face drops. “I’m really concerned, Jay. False hope is unhealthy. Denial is the first stage of grief, y’know. Don’t spend too much time waiting for someone who never liked you in the first place.” He nods solemnly.
Maybe Joker is right. Bruce just, taught him how to be Robin. He’s a soldier, not a son. He’s not Bruce’s family, never was.
The Joker cackles loudly. “I know this must be hard for you, my boy, but it’ll blow over soon.” He raises the crowbar once more. “But trust me, this hurts you way more than it hurts me.”
THUNK
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He wakes up with a gasp. The first thing he notices is how cold it is. He’s shivering. Once he opens his eyes enough, he can make out frost on the ground. He pushes himself up, hiccuping as he rubs his eyes to try and wipe the memories out of his head. He exhales shakily, watching as small snowflakes fall around him. Oh, his surroundings. He’s still on the floor of the forest, alone.
He should’ve figured. He doesn’t know why he still thinks, hopes they’ll look for him. It’s how it’s always been, how he’ll always end up.
Alone.