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Jason woke with a groan, trying to sit up out of instinct. He immediately regretted that option. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled sharply as he waited for the pain to subside. He took another deep breath as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling with a feeling of both despair and irritation.
‘Son of a bitch.’
He’s in a shit ton of pain and he doesn’t even remember what happened. If anything, all he remembered was getting his shit rocked, and then he blacked out, for what he figured was the rest of it.
He does remember Dicks cries, the way he held him.
The love he felt in the moment was from his brother, his big brother. He felt the love in his embrace, in his voice, and in the way he desperately called his name. He missed his brother now, missed the way he held him. Which was causing all the pain he’s feeling right now.
Jason couldn’tt remember the last time he’s felt such love, such a content feeling of safety washing over him. Not since he was younger and Robin.
He wanted his dad. But..does he?
He wanted Dick.
He could faintly hear the sound of Tim's voice several feet away, but he couldn’t understand what he was saying. He wanted to know what Tim is saying. He wanted Dick here. He needed his big brother.
He could feel the tears slowly stream down his face, pooling at his neck. That’s how he found himself staring up at the ceiling with now tear-blurred eyes. It almost felt like the world was collapsing around him. Realistically, he knew that it was just the drugged-up pain brain talking, but he still found himself partially panicking.
Waking up in the middle of the night, alone and in pain, drugged to the gills with pain meds.
And all he could think about was his brother, Dick.
He wanted to have his brother right next to him, holding his hand. He wanted to wake up to see the man still there.
He decided he didn’t want his dad here, Bruce could fuck off. He wants Dick.
But he couldn't bring himself to move, both in pain and loopy, both a terrible mixture, in which he shouldn't try to stand.
He knew that Dick would come back, he just hated the idea of waiting for him.
So Jason let himself slump back into the sheets, blinking slowly, and sighed in relief when the pain lessened the more his body relaxed.
Jason felt the way his mind started to slow down among everything else, a testament to how truly exhausted he was, how it affected both his physical and mental health from the incident.
He doesn’t like being in the manor, not when he is alone and/or vulnerable.
And he felt vulnerable too, terribly so.
He was horribly injured, in the med bay of the batcave getting his treatment. Anyone could have come up to him, and he felt like he wanted that. He didn’t want Bruce to come up to him quite the opposite. Jason wanted Bruce to leave him alone.
The only person he wanted near him was Dick. He only tolerates Alfred for the sole purpose of needing the older man to treat his wounds.
Jason let out another soft whimper of pain, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to work through the next wave of pain. Which caused him to let out a shuddering breath as he tried, and then struggled to take in a deep breath. His facial features twitch as he could practically feel his lungs constricting around the broken ribs in his chest.
‘Fuck.’
Was the only thing that was on repeat in his head, the pain meds were wearing off and now he could feel everything. Every little crack, bruise, cut, even scrape. He felt too aware of his surroundings; he didn't even know what to do with himself anymore.
He needed Alfred to come back. Jason needed more pain meds, badly.
Jason laid there helplessly as he tried not to pay too much attention to the pain he was feeling, but at the same time, all he could feel was pain.
He wanted Dick. He needed more medication. Fuck he was gonna cry again. And if there was anything Jason hated more than the Joker, it was crying.
As he thought about that, he could feel the tears start to stream down his face, the warm wet tracks of anguish and pain. The strong feelings of pure, and unfiltered rage within himself as a result of his own actions, and other people's actions around him. He hated this. He absolutely hated all of this.
Next to the pain, the vulnerability feeling was the bane of his existence, having to show emotion was what he always deemed beyond him. Even when he was younger, he struggled with expressing certain emotion. And now? Crying in such a public area where any of his siblings could walk in and see him at any moment was not on his bingo card.
Infact, it was a fear now.
He never feared it before, especially not when he was so well known with a certain reputation as The Red Hood, being vulnerable was not an option.
He doesn't feel right when he cries, when he feels emotion. It felt wrong, different.
Dick doesn't judge him, he knows that. Everyone else? He's not too sure, Damian? He would totally make fun of him. Even Tim would tease him about his strong emotion showing, especially after his years of his inability to show said emotion.
It felt rough, he felt disdain for how much emotion that was flooding his veins in that moment. Jason felt as though he was currently drowning in.
He felt his heart heavy within his chest, his stomach felt like it was swirling with hate.
Sometimes he wondered if Dick had ever felt like this, another part of him didn't want to even think about that.
Too much was happening, he was severely overstimulated, from so many different things, it was like he was going insane.
Moments like this made him wonder if insanity was better than feeling this way.
Maybe it was. Maybe it would be worth it, so he didn't have to feel this vulnerability anymore. His options were indeed limited, and he only has so many openings.