Work Text:
“Hey, Hood, whatcha doin’ here?” The man standing in front of Jason said, his voice nonchalant but posture tense. He was leaning against a wall in the alley, his broad frame effectively blocking Jason’s way.
“Just passing through,” Jason grumbled underneath his helmet, attempting to pass the man. Oracle had informed him that a robbery was happening a few streets away from his location, so he decided to take a shortcut.
The man pushed himself from the wall so he was standing right in front of Jason, crossing his arms.
“Get out of my way,” Jason said, rolling his eyes in annoyance before reaching for his gun.
The man struck out, knocking the gun out of Jason’s hands. “’Fraid I can’t let you do that,” he said, sounding all too pleased with himself.
Jason cursed to himself, shifting into a fighting stance. “Why is it always the hard way?” he muttered before punching the man in the face.
Just when Jason had finished disabling the guy (he wasn’t permanently disfigured. Probably.), Oracle crackled to his speakers.
“Hood! GET DOWN!”
Jason ducked instinctively, moments before a loud explosion went off a few buildings over.
Glass shattered and screams filled the night. Children cried out in fear, but all Jason heard was an incessant ringing in his ears.
Smoke poured out onto the streets, the smell of gunpowder and fire filling his lungs. The sound of laughter filled his ears. It hurt. Why wasn’t he here yet? He was going to die, he couldn’t—
“—ood! Red Hood, can you hear me?!”
Jason jumped at the noise, snapping back to reality. Suddenly, everything seemed too loud, too bright, too much.
“Yeah—” Jason scraped his throat and coughed. “’M fine. I’ll head over to get civilians.”
He tuned out what Oracle said in reply, standing up and feeling his knees protest. He leaned against the wall for a second to regain his balance, his heart having sped up from the movement. Every small change in scenery drew his attention.
The rest of the night was a blur. He wasn’t sure if he’d talked, where he’d been. Though he vaguely recollected Dick’s concerned looks.
He blinked slowly, taking in his surroundings properly. He was in his bathroom now, helmet discarded and shirt crumpled in a corner. He stretched his fingers, vaguely noting the ache in his knuckles. The pain felt nice, the ache soothing. He dropped his hand again, staring at his ceiling.
Was he really here? What if he was just hallucinating? He wouldn’t put it past the Joker to come up with some way to make him think he escaped. What if he was suddenly pulled from here and back at the Joker’s mercy? He was just a kid then. A kid he no longer recognized. Weak. So damn weak.
Jason was vaguely aware of the ringing in his ears and his shallow breaths. Breathing. Was he really? He remembered dying. How was he alive? What if he was just a shell housing a monster?
Jason raised his hand and twisted it, taking note of all the cuts, bruises, and scars. He felt far away, like he was looking at his hand from the other side of a tunnel. How could he prove he was alive? Because he couldn’t be dead. Not again.
But then, what had he brought with his return? He’d hurt Tim, he’d become a murderer. Wouldn’t it be better if he had stayed dead? His vision blurred.
Jason numbly crawled to his bathroom cabinet; standing felt like too much of a struggle. He felt weak and light-headed just sitting, never mind attempting to stand.
Cracking open the door to the cabinet, Jason rummaged through until he found what he’d been looking for: a razor and his first aid supplies.
He smiled at the irony. Bruce teaching him how to take care of his wounds and what to stock his first aid kit with, only for Jason to turn a blade on himself. How would Bruce react? He could already imagine his disappointed stare.
Jason quickly disinfected the knife before sticking it into the skin of his underarm, pulling it across. Blood pooled at the edges of the cut before spreading throughout its entirety.
A wave of relief crashed through him, and he took a shaky breath. Yes, this was it. He was alive.
He smiled to himself as he made another cut. And then another. And then another, another, another. Blood covered his underarm, some of it spilling and splashing onto the white tile of the bathroom floor. Jason didn’t care, the almost euphoric feeling of relief from the claustrophobic feeling of his mind far outweighed his annoyance at having to clean it up.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before deciding he was done. He stretched his fingers again and smiled at the ripple of pain washing through him.
He reached out to the pile of medical supplies next to him and started disinfecting the cut before bandaging it. Once done, he sat back, enjoying the feeling of the cold tile pressing into his sweaty back, looking out at the moon through his bathroom window.
After sitting and zoning out for a while, he carefully stood up so he could go to bed. He’d clean up in the morning.
---
Jason jumped awake when he heard the doorbell ring the following morning.
He grumbled to himself as he got out of bed, wondering who would be dumb enough to disturb him at, he glanced at the clock, nine in the morning.
Jason stumbled more than walked to his front door, wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts. The floor was cold against his bare feet. Once he reached the door, he pulled it open with an annoyed scowl on his face, only to be faced with Dick.
“Uh, hi Jason,” Dick said, his eyes flicking to Jason’s arm before flicking back up to his face. He shot him a warm smile. “Sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to drop by. Do you want me to make you breakfast?”
Jason had half a mind to say no so he could continue sleeping but decided against it. A free meal sounded nice. “I don’t have any groceries,” he replied.
Dick raised the plastic bag he was holding so Jason could see it. “I thought of that!”
“Alright then,” Jason grumbled, stepping aside to let Dick in.
Dick stepped through the door and took off his shoes and jacket, rambling about the class of kids he was teaching at the acrobatics center. Jason hummed along, sleep still tugging at his eyelids.
Just as Jason was beginning to wonder why he’d let Dick in instead of going back to bed, Dick tapped his knee to get his attention.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick, can you watch the pancakes for me?” Dick shot him a smile before turning and heading out of the kitchen.
Ah, right, pancakes. So that’s what Dick had been making for them. He’d been too distracted by his inner monologue to pay any attention to what Dick was cooking.
He stared at the pancakes like that’d stop them from burning. Luckily, Dick was back soon, though he looked even more anxious now than he did at the front door.
“I’m pretty sure they aren’t burnt,” Jason said, his voice still scratchy.
Dick visibly fought not to jump. “Oh, right. Thank you, Little Wing.”
Jason grumbled in lieu of actually responding.
---
After breakfast and two cups of coffee, Jason was finally beginning to feel awake. He stretched in his chair.
“Little Wing, I want to ask you something,” Dick said, his voice sounding unusually quiet and soft.
“Huh?”
“Well, I noticed the bandages on your arm, and I hoped you’d just gotten injured without telling us. But when I went to the bathroom, I saw the razor and the blood.” Dick bit his lip before continuing. “I just want you to know—”
Jason tuned out the rest of the speech, sternly looking at the crack in the tile behind Dick. When he was finally done talking, Jason replied, “It’s none of your business. Stay out of it.”
Dick was visibly taken aback at the response. “None of my business? Ofcourse it’s my business! You’re my brother! I can't just sit by and watch you destroy yourself! I just got you back, I can't- “
Jason stood up quickly, knocking his chair over, the thud causing Dick to flinch. “Oh, spare me the fucking speech. I don’t need to be saved. I’m not some kind of broken doll.”
“What? I don’t think you’re- you’re not some broken doll. I just want you to be safe, little wing.”
Jason laughed harshly. “Safe. How funny. Like I’ll ever be safe if that bastard is still alive. Because that one goddamn rule is more important to him than his own son.” The last sentence was almost growled, hurt covered by anger.
Dick looked like he’d been slapped. “Please, Jason. Why are you making this so… difficult? I just want what’s best for you.”
“Sure you do. Like always.” Jason crossed his arms.
A silence falls over the two.
Jason turns away from Dick, grabbing their plates so he could put them in the sink. As he’s halfway to the kitchen, Dick speaks up again.
“I don’t want to lose you again.”
The plates shatter. Jason doesn’t remember dropping them. The world narrows. Laughter spooks trough his mind.
“Shouldn’t have lost me the first time.” Jason’s voice sounds distorted to his own mind.
Dick doesn’t reply. Jason looks down at the shards surrounding him.
The door slams. Dick must’ve left. Jason sinks to the ground. He’s not sure if his eyes are open or closed. He’s just so, incredibly, tired these days.