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Jason knew he was screwed as soon as he woke up. His feet were chained together, and connected to the ground. His helmet was damaged, and he had been stripped of the tools he would have needed to escape. Not to mention, he was in a windowless room with nothing but what looked like a pipe and a speaker too far above his head to get to.
The pipe was what concerned Jason the most. It was clearly meant to pipe something in, but with his helmet compromised, the chance he got out without breathing in whatever noxious gas was low. The walls were too smooth to scale even if his hands hadn't been bound, so he would be stuck with it until someone let him out.
That really sucked, to put it mildly.
The speaker above him crackled.
"Hello? Is this thing on?"
Jason felt his blood run cold. That was the Joker. He was supposed to be locked in the most secure facility possible. One that no one short of Doomsday had hopes of escaping, at least not alone. So why was he out?
"I'm so glad I could have you here Batsy, and you too Red Hood."
Jason looked around, trying to find where on earth someone else could be.
"Oh, there's no point in looking," Joker told Jason with a laugh. "You're completely alone in your cell. Feel free to scream as much as you want, though! Not that Batsy can hear you through his coms any more than you can hear him."
"Now, here's your option Batman," The Joker said, still giggling. "There's an innocent civilian on one side of town, and the second little Robin who strayed too far from Daddy on the other! One will die no matter what. You can't save both, chose wisely!" The Joker broke off into a loud, crazed cackle that brought bile up in Jason's throat.
Two things became clear in Jason's mind. One, he was alone with no one coming for him; two, he was going to die again.
He knew better than to think his dad would save him over an innocent life, no matter how much he wanted him to. Batman would always save the innocent civilian over him, and the worst part? Jason understood.
Jason wasn't a good person. Not really. Not in Bruce's eyes. Not even in his own, really. Jason did what was necessary. What no one else could or would do to bring some semblance of justice to his little fucked up corner of the world.
Really, though, it didn't matter what he did. He would always be the ghost of the boy who died. A ghost that came back hurt, and upset, and scared, and so very wrong.
That was when he felt the first drop of water on his face due to his damaged helmet. He looked up, knowing what had to be happening even before he saw it with his own two eyes.
The pipe that he expected to start spewing a toxin at any moment was dumping water into his prison.
"No," Jason choked out.
"That's right! The chambers are filling with water as we speak!" The Joker exclaimed. "Better choose fast, or there may not be a choice at all."
The water was already pooling at Jason's feet. He was forcing himself to keep calm. Breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. He had already dropped to the ground, pulling at the chains. If he couldn't get them off before the water rose over his head, he would only have minutes.
His personal best was just under seven minutes. More realistically, in the situation he was in, especially if he started to panic, he'd be doing good to hold his breath for around five and a half minute. Six, if someone upstairs was really looking out for him.
Jason wasn't gonna hold out for that, though.
He tapped a few buttons on the side of his helmet.
He gave it a moment.
Good.
It didn't have a signal, but it did still have the ability to record his voice. Jason swallowed. "Okay," he said quietly enough that the Joker would hear. "I know I'm dying in here. I'm... I won't say I'm okay with that, but just, don't let me come back, please?"
Jason knew his voice sounded broken, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "I don't care how you do it. Burn me, do that thing where they use water for cremation, just don't bury me. I— I don't want to wake up in a coffin again.
"So, last messages. Dick, you never were a bad older brother. You know superman's autograph? The one he gave me as a kid that you stole, and then I rightfully took back? I want you to have that.
"Babs, I know I gave you a lot of trouble, and I hate I'm doing it again. You get my nicer safe house with my first editions.
"Tim, you aren't actually all that bad. I'd say I've been saving my toenails or something for your creepy little stalker collection you have on everyone, but that would be a lie. Also, that would just be weird, even for you. You get my leather jacket. The civilian one you keep eyeing.
"Cass, we never did get very close, but I have some old records that I want you to have. They're from some old ballets, and I'm pretty sure you'll like them.
"Steph, you and I are kindred spirits, growing up like we did and all. Due to that, you get safe house number 12 in the alley. It has that god awful glittery purple tutu you kept tormenting us all with. I took it. In my absence, I want it to go back to you.
"Damian, keep Tim from getting too cocky, y'hear? I know I promised to teach you how to do that one sword move, but it doesn't look like I'm gonna be able to, so you get all my swords.
"Duke, I really hate that I didn't get to know you better. Kinda like Steph, you feel a bit like a kindred spirit. Minus dying, of course. That's something you aren't aloud to do. I have some older Pokémon cards if you want them. I remember you saying something about collecting cards at one point."
Jason took in a shuttering breath. Water was around his shoulders now. He had stopped trying to free his feet. Going underwater with his helmet damaged didn't exactly go along too well with recording a goodbye message.
"Alfie," Jason said. "You're the closest thing I ever had to a grandfather, and I'm sorry you have to bury me twice. I'm sure you'll take care of everyone, you always do, but take care of yourself too, okay? You get all my guns. You're the only one in our screwed up family who would use them. I also have a couple of cookbooks I was going to bring over that I want you to have.
"Bruce, Dad, I— I don't know what to really say here. I forgive you. I wish you had picked me, but I get it. Really, I do. I wouldn't have picked me, either. I know we only started to actually reconnect recently, but... I don't know. I— The water's pretty high. I know you can't answer, but do you think drowning will hurt less than— than last time?"
Jason was having to tilt his head back to breath at this point. He didn't even know if his helmet was still recording, and if it was, if it wouldn't be destroyed before he got out.
"I'm scared." Jason said suddenly. He didn't know why he said it. "I don't want to die again. I don't want to be alone. I—"
The water splashed over Jason's face. He managed to take a deep breath before he was completely submerged, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Whatever had been left of Robin's magic had long since dried up.
The water along with his helmet made him feel far more constrained than he wanted to be. It wouldn't have been so bad if the filtration had been working, or if he had any sort of discussion going on in his ear to distract him, but as it was, he was only moments away from panicking and further screwing himself over.
The seconds seemed to stretch on for hours. His lungs were burning, and his head was swimming. Jason knew he was reaching his limit, but he didn't want to have to admit defeat. If he did, that really meant he would die again. It would mean he could wake up in that pine wood box six feet under without any way to stop it. It would mean, unlike the last time, that his dad had really left him to die.
Finally, his body gave up on him, sucking in water. That only made things worse, but that didn't stop his body from trying to suck in oxygen that wasn't there. There were black spots in his vision, and he'd sunk to the ground like a human shaped rock.
Jason was fighting to keep his eyes open for some reason. There was no reason too. No one was coming for him. That small part of him that remained optimistic had even stopped trying to convince him otherwise.
He didn't want to pass out. Passing out only meant he would never wake up again. There would be no more of Alfred's cooking. No more long nights of patrol, or sparing. He'd never get to finish the book he'd been reading. Nothing, at least nothing that he knew.
He was hallucinating now. Shadows were dancing in his vision, and he swore he saw the Batmobile break through the wall. Jason finally let his eyes shut. It was nice of his subconscious, at least, to let him pretend his dad had come to save him.
~*~
Bruce would be lying if he said he hadn't had hundreds of other plans ready to put into motion at a moment's notice had crashing through the wall not worked. He was aware it wasn't his most refined plan, but with the Joker, time was of the essence, and he couldn't afford his preferred levels of finesse.
Water crashed around the Batmobile and out the hole in the wall. Jason was limp, being pulled along with the current while his legs were still shackled.
As soon as he could, Bruce was by Jason's side. He carefully took off Jason's helmet, incredibly thankful that it no longer contained a bomb. With the cracks, and even pieces that were just missing, had it still been there, well, that wasn't something he was willing to think about.
Bruce felt for a pulse. It was frighteningly low, and he wasn't breathing well at all, but in both cases that was better than it could have been. Jason twitched, before letting out a cough. Bruce rushed to turn his head to the side as he started to vomit up the water.
"Just hold on, Lad," Bruce told him. "I'm right here. You're going to be okay."
Jason let out a pained sound. His eyes were unfocused as he tried to look at Bruce.
"Dad?" He broke off into a cough before throwing up again.
"Shh, it's okay. Get it all out."
Bruce was working on getting him free by that point. He needed to get him to the medbay to monitor him. Chances were he'd be fine now, but after everything, Bruce couldn't risk someone finding Jason dead because of a dry downing incident.
"You came?" Jason asked tiredly. His voice was hoarse, and it had to be uncomfortable to speak, if not slightly painful. "I didn't think you'd save both'a us..."
Bruce's hand stilled for a moment. "I didn't." He didn't look back at Jason to see what kind of look he was giving him. Bruce couldn't leave Jason to be killed again, not when he was fully capable of saving him. No matter how many civilians were on the line, the choice between them and one of his children was never really a choice.
Bruce picked Jason up as soon as the restraints were off. Jason's head leaned into Bruce's shoulder. He slid them back into the back. The autopilot was already engaged and taking them back to the cave.
"Why'd you choose me?" Jason finally asked. "'M just..."
He was still half unconscious, and Bruce wasn't sure he even fully realized what was going on, but he still pulled Jason closer. "My son. You're my son, and I'll always choose you."
They were almost back to the cave. It wouldn't be long before Jason would be completely safe. They wouldn't have to worry about the marks left on his legs from the chains, nor the water that Bruce could still hear within Jason's lungs with every wheezed breath he took. Everything would be okay, and with any luck, Jason would be back on his feet with a clean bill of health before the end of the week.
Bruce thought Jason knew that as well, because he'd started to finally relax a touch, not unlike he had as a child.
Bruce let a small smile cross his face. Everything was going to be okay.