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“Jason open the door!”
“No. Go away. If you force your way in I will shoot myself in the face.” His voice was manic sounding, ragged and almost scared.
“Jason please open the door.” That tone almost pained him. Almost.
“You can't control me! You can't control me anymore. I won't do what you tell me to! I'm not your soldier, your pawn!”
There was blood streaming from his nose, in the dingy bathroom. Bruce shouldn't have found the way into his current safe house, at least he couldn't get into the bathroom any other way but the locked door. His lips and chin were coated in blood and the bitter taste filled his mouth and the scent was heavy and hard. He didn't have a gun, but the threat of his own death might keep Bruce at bay. He needed to buy time. Something. He had to do something.
The red was too bright against his pale skin, though he knew bruises would be blooming on his skin soon.
But the blood was there, and it was thick and disgusting.
Bruce did this to him. Bruce shouldn't be here. He did this, he made this happen.
He spat some of the blood into the sink, breathing heavily. The light was harsh on his eyes and he looked beaten half to death and gaunt, so gaunt in the yellow light.
“Jason?”
“I said go away! Get out!”
“Come home.” His voice sounded so broken at the shout from Jason. He didn't want this. He never wanted this.
“I don't have a home. Not now.” If it was known which heart was breaking as he said that, it would have been a surprise for them both.
He was breathing heavily, through his mouth to avoid any blood entering his lungs. He wasn't thinking clearly, but he knew Bruce couldn't be in here.
He coughed, blood-tinged spit going down the sink drain. His vision was hazy as he removed the domino mask, rubbing his eyes before blinkng slowly.
A soft knock on the door.
“Bruce I said get out!”
He knew that knock, it was the knock that Bruce had used the first night at the mansion when Jason hadn't eaten for a few days, and he was ready to run that day. Run to his mom, but she wasn't there anymore.
He was ready to run now, to jump through the door and out the window if it meant Bruce would leave.
But he wouldn't. He wouldn't stop until Jason was dead, and it'd be on Bruce. It'd always been on Bruce. He wouldn't give in unless Jason was dead or Jason was with him once more.
“Bruce. Get out or I will kill myself.” Jason hissed, the blood wouldn't stop pouring down his face. Oh god just make it stop already. He knew that the so called 'Dark Knight' was waiting on the other side of the door ready to pounce.
His head was so hazy still. The fight had really done a number on him, and it'd been Bruce that had kicked him, getting him in the face. He didn't know if it was intentional.
Oh it hurt, sure it did, it was a batkick. It wasn't even just the fact he'd been tenderised by some goons that got lucky beforehand. But Bruce normally wouldn't hurt him that much. No it was a kick to the face from Bruce. Bruce who always had patience, always had patience for Jason. Never kicked him in the face, never hurt him more than necessary. That stupid Robin had been there too. He'd probably laughed when Bruce kicked him in the face.
It wasn't fair! Oh it wasn't fair. He didn't deserve this. Bruce didn't need to do that to him, for all of Jason's bullets, and his knives and that anger. Bruce never would do that. Not his Bruce. But Bruce saw him as a criminal, that he deserved to be in Arkham with the maniacs he'd helped put in there.
It wasn't fucking fair!
“That's not funny.” He whispered, shiver running down his spine. The Joker's words, even now. They were embedded in his core.
He would never be fucking free. Never.
His grip on the sink slipped and he fell, head smacking on the sink.
“Ah! Shit!” He gasped, clutching his head.
The door broke open, and Jason was helpless to stop as Bruce- still in full gear- forced his way in. His body ached, and he couldn't stop Bruce picking him up as if he weighed as much as he did as a younger teenager. The seconds of lack of concentration resulted in his capture.
“Fuck you! Fuck you don't touch me!” He shouted,
Jason tried to thrash, but Bruce was faster, administering the drug, everything fading from view, the last thing he saw was Bruce's eyes. Oh those were tears. Damn it.
His body ached, everything was heavy and nothing felt real.
“Jason?”
A soft noise left his throat, he wasn't sure if it was pain, dismay or relief.
It wasn't Bruce, but the gaze was equally intense.
“Dick.” He slurred, hand reaching out to lightly hit his big brother. “Love you too Jaybird.”
He could taste grapes, and wasn't sure why.
“Did I get my ass kicked on a mission?” Jason mumbled. Normally his brother wouldn't come and sit by him like that. “Definitely an ass kicking and a half. You look as bad as Bruce feels.”
No.
Something was wrong.
He didn't want to be here. He wasn't Robin. He hadn't been Robin in a long time. He tried to play it cool, control his heart rate. If Dick knew he wanted out, he would pin Jason down.
What little nerve he had was summoned, overacting how drugged up he was, rolling his head to look at what was around him.
His hand was cuffed to the bed. Okay he could keep playing along.
“Did I get some bad stuff Dickie? Take the cuff off, it hurts.” He whined, rolling his head back to look at the elder.
Dick looked conflicted for a moment, before reaching to undo it. Jason rolled to his side so he could face Dick, still acting.
“Dick.”
No. Fuck.
He retched, and Dick quickly grabbed a bowl, Jason retched again, only fluids coming up.
“Dick, he's acting. Leave us.”
The heaving most certainly wasn't acting, thank you very much mister Wayne.
Dick patted his shoulder lightly and left the room. He knew what that meant.
“Jason. If you leave, I will stop you.”
“Stop me like you stopped caring that I died?” He snapped, looking up from the bowl.
All of his weaponry had been stripped off of him, even the tiny switchblade. Fuckers. “You're not being fair, Jason.”
“You kicked me in the fucking face Bruce!” “I did what was necessary.” “And you wonder why I wear a helmet.”
There was nothing at all he could use against Bruce. Not even himself, he was drugged and knew that Bruce did it deliberately.
“I hate you. I hate you, old man.” Jason snarled. “Stand down, Jason.” “No Bruce, you stand down. Stand down and accept I am not yours anymore. Let me be fucking free, leave me alone.” “Jason, you know why I do what I do, and why I want to help you.” Bruce reached out, attempting to cup Jason's cheek, but he slapped away the hand as quickly as his reaction time would let him.
“Don't touch me, dad.”
Bruce's entire face froze, and that was when Jason knew he could break Bruce. He could rip him apart piece by piece with so much ease. “That's right. You are my dad. You made me like this, didn't you dad? A loving dad doesn't kick his son in the face. A loving dad doesn't leave his son for dead with a madman.” Jason sat up, fire burning through his veins. It hurt to move. Oh it hurt, but it made him feel more alive.
“I didn't leave you for dead. That's why you're here now.” Bruce's voice was...it was something. Something Jason had only heard during the big fight he'd had with Dick when Jason had just come to live there. It scared him. “You are my son, and I won't let you become lost.”
“Let me go.”
“No.”
“Please.” His voice cracked, and he felt his eyes burning with hot tears brimming to fall.
“Jason, you know I can't. I want you to understand why I do this for you.”
“Bruce, I want you to understand why I want to be free.”
“I do understand. I do, Jason. Better than anyone. But what you're doing isn't going to help you, it won't make you feel alive. It won't fix the hole in your soul.”
“You did this to me. You. And you won't let me be free from your gilded cage.” He growled, fists managing to just about clench.
“Jason...I never wanted this for you. I never would have let you go out on that first night if I'd known it'd bring us to here.” Bruce whispered, placing a hand over his clenched fist.
“You don't understand. All I ever wanted was for us to...To be a family. All I ever wanted was your approval. Your pride. And you abandoned me. Betrayed me. You replaced me, proving I meant nothing to you. If I was irreplaceable you wouldn't...wouldn't have gotten that rich boy to be Robin. If it had been you, I would have killed whoever took you from me, I would have mourned but I wouldn't let Dick become you. We would have changed the game. I would have destroyed the Joker, killed him where he stood. You let him continue, let him go free.” He knew he was crying by now, and Bruce's grip on his hand was the only thing keeping him in the room. Keeping him here mentally.
“If I kill I'll never stop, Jason. Never. Jesus, I wish I could have killed him on that night. But if I started, I'd never stop. I'd become one of them.” His voice was grave, and Jason was burning inside.
“That's not good enough. It's never going to be good enough. You failed me, you failed us all.”
Bruce was silent, his pokerface was the best Jason had ever seen. He wasn't going to move, he wasn't going to leave in a flash.
“You're free to go as soon as your injuries are healed up. I have sent nine hundred dollars to one of your many bank accounts, so you may fix your safe house. You can take whatever you need from this house and I won't stop you.” Bruce murmured, hand leaving Jason's fist, cupping his cheek momentarily before leaving the room.
He sat numbly, tongue thick in his mouth. He said it all, he said it when they weren't fighting. It had to have been understood this time. It was.
He felt disgusting. He needed to get out, he needed to go.
He really needed to shower, actually.
Sluggishly he pulled his body from the bed, he knew he'd been wiped clean, but that wasn't the same. His room had a bathroom- it wasn't his room anymore, but it had a bathroom that he was familiar with.
His face in the mirror was bruised and cut, but at least there wasn't thick blood on it anymore. He gripped the sink, those bruises wouldn't go down quickly. He stripped out of the clothes they'd put on him, but at least they hadn't changed his boxers. That'd be fucking weird, even for Bruce.
The shower was cold, but it'd warm up quickly enough. The coolness was refreshing, almost. The warmth was better, and he felt everything draining away, leaving him put together like a child's clay creation.
He let himself cry now, loudly. He wailed, snivelled, trembled and was overall hysterical as he sat on the floor of the shower.
Dick forced his way in, stripped off and sat beside Jason, and Jason gladly leant into his embrace. “Babybird it's okay. It's okay. I won't let anyone hurt you Jaybird. Mean old Bruce never meant to hurt you. He loves you, not as much as I do because you're the first little brother I had, but he does love you. He didn't want to hurt you.” Dick cradled Jason's head, brushing the wet strands of hair from his face.
“He-He still hurt me. These bruises won't magically vanish because you say so.” It was hard to control his snuffles, or the hiccups in his speech from the tears. Dick sighed softly, thumb stroking his cheek gently. “Would you like a smoke?”
Jason nodded, letting his older 'brother' get him up, wrapping the bathrobe around him. He hadn't worn it since he was fifteen. Fuck.
Dick pulled out Jason's favourite brand of cigarettes, pushed open the window and lit it for him, passing him the little comfort that Jason had.
He took a long drag, blowing out the smoke.
And then leapt from the window.
“Sorry Dick!” He shouted, making his way out of the mansion's grounds, avoiding the various security system. It wasn't exactly hard.
Cigarette firmly clamped in his teeth he leapt over the fence, dodged the snare and then landed perfectly. Bruce would be proud when he sees the footage.