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Jason shifted restlessly, the stakeout wasn’t going fast, most of the small time goons in there arguing for the fortieth time. Damn, didn’t they know he was on a schedule?
Luckily, Jason was patient. And devoutly ignoring the bats that had been chattering in his ear until he turned his comms off, he knew Barbie would just hack it back on if there was truly an emergency.
Moments scrape by, Jason waiting for the deal to almost be finished before he makes his entrance. He wouldn’t mind it if they killed each other without him, make his life easier by letting him escape a lecture from Daddy Bats himself.
The dumbasses inside finally seemed to settle, some paperwork coming out, guns going away. Perfect time to drop in.
“What are you guys doing? Having a party without me?” Jason shouted, falling through the window of the warehouse they were using. “That’s not nice, ya know. ‘Specially when it’s in my turf.”
He felt himself land with a heavy thud, immediately drawing his guns and taking aim as he went for cover from the bullets they were firing towards him.
The guys shouted as bullet after bullet would hit them, shoulders, knees, thighs, no one could say that he didn’t try to not kill them.
Soon enough, the goons were down, leaving Jason free to go up to the one left conscious.
“So,” He started, pulling the guy up by the collar. “Who put you up to this? Black Mask? Penguin? Someone new?”
The guy scowled and spat on Jason’s helmet. “I ain’t tellin’ you shit!”
“Oh wow, wow, you spit on me? That’s not very hygienic.” Jason stated, loving the way his voice modulator distorted his voice to not show the amount of grossed out he was. “Then again, the shit you sell on my streets aren’t very good either, I’ve had some kids show up outta their minds cause of what you had ‘em laced with, mind telling me about where you got those drugs? Do me a favor?”
Jason let his head tilt in a mechanical way, something he knew creeped people out with how inexpressive the helmet was, the modulated voice, bright, glowy eyes. God, he loved creeping people out.
“If we go down,” A voice stated from behind Jason, making him turn around, goon’s shirt still in his hand as looked at another goon, standing shakily, one he thought had been knocked out. “You’re going with us.”
The guy pulled out a switch, stereotypical big red button, and he pressed it, a determined and scared look on the guy’s face.
“Shit.”
Typically, Jason didn’t mind explosions.
Keep him away from the big ones, and the little ones could be fun.
Most of the time, Jason was the one who caused said explosions, grinning behind his mask as the big old bat griped and groaned about the ‘destruction’ and something about ‘we don’t kill people, Hood’.
Ya know, boring shit.
Other times, such as this, they got to him.
He felt his body tense as he dropped the goon and started to get away, but the explosion came first. The boom sent him into the opposing wall, making his vision start to black as his head cracked on some metal, and he felt something fall onto his body, pinning him down.
And everything went dark.
— — — —
Jason came to with a groan, starting to pick himself up before stopping as something heavy laid on his chest and legs, heavy and hot.
His eyes blinked sluggishly, limbs shaking.
Shit.
Shit shit shit shitshitshit.
“Tell me, which hurts more. A? Or B?”
Fuck. He was dying.
He couldn’t breathe.
“Forehand? Or backhand?”
He was going to die, again. Where was the clown? He had to keep him in his sights. Jason couldn’t-
“Tell the big man I said hello!”
B….help…. Dad, please.
A vicious round of coughing overtook him, making his chest hurt as a large piece of rafters pinned him down, and he could feel the offending metal almost get heavier and heavier on top of him, heat flickering at his arms and legs.
This isn’t good.
The crowbar fell again, hitting his chest.
Jason had to get away.
His broken leg grated against itself as the crowbar came down again.
Gritted teeth against the pain the burned at his thigh. Did something hit it?
He coughed again, gasping at the air, when did it get hard to breath?
He tasted salt and iron.
“Now that wasn’t nice.”
Jason had to breathe. The clown wasn’t here.
“You know, the previous Boy Blunder had some manners.”
Dick. B. Timerlina.
The crowbar came down.
Hand shaking, he managed to turn on the comm, small chatter still going on, not having quite noticed the explosion quite yet. So he hadn’t been out long. Good. That’s good.
“Now, make sure you’re in bed by 9…”
“Yo,” He grimaced at the scratchy sound of his voice, the strain making him cough.
“Little WIng, you good?” Dick, bless him, said, immediately on edge.
“Explosion…..ow?” Eloquent, short, true.
Fingers gripped his hair, pulling his head up too close too close to the insane face of that clown.
Clicking static. “Looking into it, an explosion on the docks, Hood’s tracker is right on top of it.”
Jason’s vision goes black as smoke leaks through his helmet, so it was broken. Nausea crept up on him as he tried to focus, words in the background fuzzing in and out as he felt his limbs shake and tense as the metal and concrete pinning him seemed to burn.
“Such a good boy, laying down there all sweet like…..not like you have a choice!” Mad laughing. Pain pain painpain.
“-on! C’mon, answer me!” Dickie? Whoever, called out, some emotion in his voice that confused Jason.
He grunted.” ‘m here, ‘m here.”
“Hood. Report.” A gruff voice stated.
Jason coughed hard, metal on top of him making his ribs creak. “P-pinned, helmet broken. D-dunno if anything’s broken.”
He tasted more salt on his tongue. “Dad…..I’m scared. Please.”
“A? Or B?”
“Please.”
“Forehand? Or backhand?”
He was dying again, he couldn’t breathe, fire licked his limbs in a painful dance, the crowbar was there again, “Help.”
Jason didn’t….he didn’t wanna die again. He…..he didn’t wanna die!
The clock was at five seconds, he wasn’t going to make it, was he?
Whispers echoed in his ears, mad laughing in his brain. Time crept by, leaving Jason shaking, trying and failing to breathe. “I don’t wanna die.”
Black edged around in his peripherals, coughing more and more, body giving up on struggling.
Vaguely in the background, he registered movement, the click of the latch of his helmet and gentle hands wiping his face. The shifting on the items on top of him, shouts in the background urging him to wake up, Jason!
Slowly, the heat faded and he felt cool wind, coughs starting anew as fresh air entered his system and jolted him awake, body wanting to crumble into itself if it weren’t for the body next to him.
Hands rubbed at his back in a comforting manner as he coughed and gagged and tears leaked from his eyes, struggling to breath goddamnit breathe .
Bruce was never going to make it, was he?
Sounds started filtering back into his ears as his body was pulled into somewhere small and dark, vibrations thrumming from beneath him, fingers carding through his smoke and sweat slicked hair.
Soft crooning stuck to his brain as he tried to stop coughing, aching his ribs and limbs with each convulsion.
“Well, I gotta get going pumpkin. Now, make sure you’re in bed by 9 and all you’re homework is done.”
He was moving again, sights blurring as he opened his eyes. Where was that clown? Where was he? It was cold. Something was pressed against his face, cool air rushing down his lungs.
The hand rubbing his back never left, staying a constant presence, a grounding warmth. Hours seem to pass, coughing almost nonstop but slowing down until Jason laid on the bed(cot?), slumping into a limp pile of human breathing deeply, the burn of his throat ebbing and flowing, eyes shut tightly, not wanting to admit to the shame of needing the bats to help him.
“Little Wing?” He heard Dick say. “ I know you’re awake.”
“Shut up, Dickface.” Jason croaked out, coughing again as his voice seems to scratch at itself.
Dick sighed, hand stopping in their previous motions. A moment passes before the other man stands up and makes his way in front of Jason.
“Little Wing,” Dick says softly. “C’mon, look at me.” Obviously, Jason isn’t going to do that. “Jason, please.”
Guilt stabbed at his heart, and reluctantly, Jason looked at him.
Dick’s eyes bore into him like he was a kid again and he was apologizing for being cold to him. The eyes that could cut him apart and pull him together after a rough patrol, the eyes of his brother.
“We got you.” He said simply. “You’re ok. You’re alive.”
Jason feels himself breathe out shakily, eyes watering again. Mercifully, his brother doesn’t comment, and instead pulls him into a hug. He felt his shoulders shake as he silently cried into Dick’s shoulder, arms wrapped around each other as Jason held onto his brother for almost dear life.
Eventually, Jason calmed down and slumped onto his brother, Dick laying next to him with an arm wrapped around him, careful of the oxygen mask and its wire.
Moments pass, before another person walks in, hesitant in the doorway.
Bruce.
“You alright, Jaylad?” The man asks, eyes clearly worried, but only striking reflexive anger in Jason.
“Yeah, peachy keen old man.” He felt himself snap, almost regretting it.
Dick tensed a small bit, arms tightening around Jason’s shoulders.
Bruce winces a small bit, opening his mouth before shutting it, deflating a small bit, looking small and defeated.
“I’m….just….” Bruce sighs before looking at him sadly. “I’m just glad you’re alive.”
He felt his eyes widen a small bit, breath catching briefly. “Yeah, whatever old man.”
The cough came out of nowhere, wracking his chest and making him curl into himself. Dick went back to rubbing his back to hopefully relieve the coughing like before, and large, callous hands brought him into a large chest, holding him still so he didn’t disturb the bandages around his arms and thigh from where the concrete cut and metal burned him.
Once the coughs subsided, Jason fell limp into the chest. Goddamnit B.
Jason ignored the tears that once again pricked his eyes as he leaned into br-his dad’s embrace, the man’s words echoing in his head to replace the damn clown.
“I’m just glad you’re alive.”