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It happens fast.
One minute, Jason and Roy are doing what they do best, cleaning up the last few scumbags of the drug ring they've been slowly whittling away at for months…
The next, Jason hears the ticking.
Thing is… Jason isn't a fan of bombs. Comes by it honestly, given that he's been blown up before. And it didn't even have the decency to kill him, leaving him to slowly suffocate from smoke inhalation. So he felt the concussion, felt it damaging what few of his intact organs survived the Joker's beating, felt his eardrums pop with the force of it.
Felt it throw his already broken body into a metal shelf, and leave him torn up in bits of wood and steel.
And Roy doesn't hear the ticking; in his defense, he's currently busy bashing a guy over the head with his bow, so it's not entirely his fault.
In that cold clarity that settles in, he knows he has limited choices, and even more limited time to make the choice.
He can hope it's on a long enough timer that he and Roy can get out. Doubtful, since it would've had to have been remotely activated -there aren't a lot of people left standing, and none of them have been out of eyesight -so odds of them having the time to backtrack out of the old factory are slim.
He can try and find the bomb, and disarm it. Even more doubtful, for all the same reasons.
So really, the only option that's actually an option is to grab Roy, and try and get as far away from the ticking noise as he can. Preferably, somewhere that might provide some cover.
Even as he starts running, he knows it's not a great option; this operation isn't huge, by any means, but C4 is cheap to get in Gotham, and it's not like drug dealers give a shit about property damage. Theoretically, there could be enough explosives to level the entire goddamn building.
But again: it's the only viable option he really has, he reminds himself as he grabs Roy's arm, and starts running. And bless Roy for some kinda saint, because he doesn't even question. When Jason nearly pulls him right off his feet, Roy just goes with the motion, falling into step behind Jason.
Jason leads them out of the door to the main production floor, towards the offices. If nothing else, it'll put them closer to the outside of the building, and -again, in theory -further away from the blast.
They don't get nearly far enough. Jason can hear the utter silence, a heartbeat before everything goes to hell, and he uses that heartbeat to drag Roy to the ground, covering the only friend he's got with his body as best he can.
And then everything goes staticky white.
The first thing that tells him he survived the initial impact is the noise. He's heard people describe it as ringing before; it's not. The closest he can compare it to is the noise the old TV his parents got third-hand when it was left on a dead channel, but fifty times louder, and all-consuming. White noise dialed up to eleven, with his head stuck inside a box with it.
The next thing that filters through the haze is the fact that he's in pain.
A shit ton of pain. Enough pain that he can't even tell where on his body is hurt, just that it does.
"Jay?"
Roy's voice is groggy, and it sounds like it's coming through the same TV box as the noise in his ears. There's movement underneath Jason which is presumably Roy, not enough to move Jason, but enough that the pain makes everything flash white in his brain again.
The only reason Jason knows he groans, is because he can feel it reverberate through his chest. It's also probably the only sound he'll be capable of making, honestly, because his mouth hurts as bad as the rest of him.
"Jason, can you hear me?"
While Roy's voice is distant sounding, Jason can still tell he's worried. There's more squirming underneath him, and then Jason feels himself moving, which… He might pass out for a few seconds. Or more than a few seconds maybe, he can't really tell.
When he's aware again, it doesn't take much brain-power to realize he's on his back. But the optics in his helmet must've been damaged in the blast, because no amount of blinking makes the black go away.
"Jason? Jaybird, can you hear me? C'mon, buddy, gimme something to work with here."
Roy's voice is a little bit clearer now; still staticky, but Jason can put the words he hears into some semblance of sense in his brain.
Doesn't mean he can do anything about it; the best he manages is another groan, and -he's pretty sure -a twitch of his left hand.
"Alright. Alright, we're taking the helmet off. Pretty sure you can't move right now, so I'm not worried 'bout you shooting me at least. Plus sides to everything, right? 'Cause you know me, Jaybird, I'm an eternal optimist. Always looking for that silver lining. Never mind that it's usually tin-foil. Tin-foil's useful too, you know. I ever tell you how I exploded Ollie's fancy microwave with three tin-foil balls? It was pretty great, honestly."
Jason let's the words flow in one ear, and out the other, as he feels hands gently probing at the side of his helmet. Roy's one of three people who know the code; him, Kori, and Babs are the only people other than Jason who can take it off without blowing everything to kingdom come, and Babs only has it because Bruce pitched a fit that time Jason was knocked out by a hammer to the head, and couldn't get it off.
The sound of the vacuum seal on the helmet releasing is so loud that Jason can't stop his whimper, the noise driving into his brain like millions of little shards of glass being rubbed into it. A few seconds -or maybe an eternity -later, and Jason feels the helmet being carefully pulled off his head.
He tries blinking a few times; it's not as dark as it was inside the helmet, but it's still night time, in an exploded building, so it's not light either. His vision is blurry as all hell, but he's pretty sure the red dancing around is Roy.
"Hey. There you are. Look at those pretty blue eyes. Little unfocused, sure, and your eyes are so dilated I can barely even see the blue, but you know: details. Small details, honestly. You know, small like your irises right now. And! Wanna know that bright side? I'm not even gonna bother shining my flashlight in your eyes, because you definitely have a concussion. But at least no light, right?"
Jason can feel fingers moving gently along his neck. Honestly, if he could make words, he'd tell Roy it's a bit late for that; Roy already moved his neck around pulling the helmet off. If his neck was broken, he'd already be dead.
The fingers start moving down his chest, and a light -which Roy said he wasn't gonna use, the bastard -clicks on, presumably Roy's flashlight.
Part of Jason wants to laugh. Make a joke about Roy feeling him up while Jason is possibly dying. He can't quite figure out a joke to make about it though, and all capability of thought goes flying right out the window as white-hot agony radiates out from somewhere on the left side of his abdomen.
"Phew. Oh boy, Jaybird. That's uh… Mmm. That's… not great. That's… that's really not great. I'm sorry, Jay, it's okay. I won't touch it again, alright? Okay. So… Okay. Hopefully you still have your com in your ear, and hopefully you still have the bat frequencies programmed in, because otherwise we're gonna be in a bit of a mess, Jay, I won't lie."
Distantly, Jason feels something in his ear. Part of him understands that it's just Roy pulling his com out, but the rest of him can't focus on it enough to actually do anything with the information.
"Arsenal here; Hood's hurt. Anybody copy? Oracle, you beautiful person you, have I mentioned how much I love you? Yeah. Explosion. We're… I think we're in some kinda pocket or something; dunno how stable it is. Don't think we're actually buried, so air shouldn't be a concern, but… Hood took a piece of metal to his lower left abdomen; didn't come all the way through, but the area's already filling up with blood, skin's changing color, and it's starting to swell, so internal bleeding at least.
"No; he's made some noise, and his eyes are kinda open, but he's got a helluva head injury with a severe concussion at a minimum, so… maybe conscious, maybe not, but definitely not aware. Well, yeah, obviously I carry basic first aid on me, Bat, but nothing that can deal with internal goddamn bleeding. So time's kinda a factor here."
Jason really wants to snap that he's conscious. The fact that he can't probably means he really shouldn't be too worried about arguing the point.
"Alright, Jaybird, the bats are on the way. Let's… Mmm, gonna be honest, not really sure where I should even start here. Your head's bleeding pretty damn good, but it's gonna need stitches, and I really can't do 'em here in the dark while holding a flashlight. Your right leg's definitely broken, but, that's something else I can't really do much about until we get outta here.
"You got a lot of cuts and shit, but uh… well, honestly, I don't want to get near your stomach anymore than you probably want me near it right now. And it looks like you took most of the blast to your back, but I really don't want to roll you over. If you have any input on this situation, I'd be delighted to hear it, honestly."
Jason has lots of input. Namely, that he really doesn't want Roy to touch him again. Maybe ever. But definitely not right now. Everything hurts, and Jason is decidedly not thinking about the fact that the smell of smoke and burning metal is filling his nose.
Even more than that, he's not thinking about the last time he was in this situation. Because it's completely different. He's not alone, he's not a kid, he's not tied up, and he's not alone. Roy's here. He doesn't have to wait for Bruce to show up and save him this time, doesn't have to die alone and in pain, waiting for a rescue that won't ever come.
"Jaybird? Can you… Alright, can you hear me? I need… gimme some sort of sign here, Jason, please. Just… squeeze my hand, or… or make some sort of noise that might actually be words and not just unconscious groans of pain? Gimme something, Jay, please."
Okay. Roy sounds worried, and that's… Jason sucks in a deep breath. He doesn't like it when Roy worries about him. So Jason focuses on trying to figure out which part of the bright, burning ache that is his body might possibly belong to his hands.
It's easier; his hands aren't broken. Haven't been deliberately crushed by a crowbar until all of the little bones in his fingers and palms are shoved into the meat and muscle underneath the skin.
And Roy's not asking him to untie himself, and get to his feet. Isn't expecting Jason to get up and crawl to the door, and pick the lock. He just wants Jason to move his hand.
So Jason forces himself to feel some of the pain, to trace the muscles in his mind, to follow the pathways until he's pretty sure he reaches his left hand. It feels like it's his left hand, anyway, and there's a warmth there that might be Roy's hand on top of his.
So he forces his hand to move. It's not much, but he manages to curl his fingers a bit, manages to twitch his palm around.
"Oh Jesus. Thank Christ. Okay, Jaybird, that's good. That's so good, buddy. Alright. Cool. Cool, you're… you can hear me at any rate. That's good. You're gonna be fine, alright? I'm gonna… I'm gonna try and bandage as many of these cuts as I can without touching anything broken, okay?"
Jason isn't a fan of that plan. Mostly because everything feels broken, and what isn't broken feels bruised or torn. He hurts everywhere, and now that he's let himself feel the pain enough to figure out which aching point belonged to his hand, it's like he can't shut it off again.
And worse than that, is that his brain is starting to throw out panic signals. And it's stupid, because this isn't Ethiopia. This isn't the Joker. And Roy isn't Bruce. Nothing about this is the same…
Except for the bomb, the explosion, the industrial style building. The pain, the heat, the burning smell of wood, metal, and plastic melting. The air getting gradually hotter and hotter, the smoke filling the room until he can't breathe, until he's choking on air as much as he his own blood.
"Jay. Jason, I need you to calm down, alright?" Roy's voice is his Let's Get Serious tone, the one he rarely pulls out unless children are in danger. "You're gonna be fine, buddy. It's fine, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere. We're not underground, we're not buried, and everything is going to be just fine. Bats and his swarm are on the way, and we're gonna get you outta here."
The words don't really make sense; Jason's… mostly calm. He can feel a bit of his brain freaking out, but… it's not that bad. Roy must be worried, he always gets panicky whenever Jason gets hurt.
Jason tries to tell him he's fine; all that comes out is a harsh, high pitched whine. Is that… is that the noise he's been making this whole time? If so, he can kinda see why Roy might be worried.
"Shhh. It's okay, Jay, you're fine. Alright? Just… that's my hand on yours. Just focus on my hand, and focus on my voice, okay? We're gonna get out of this, and… Maybe I'll commandeer one of Ollie's islands for us to stay at for a few weeks. Or we can commandeer one of Bruce's; either way, you, me, island, Mai Thais, beaches, and recovery, yeah? And you can bitch all you want, but I know you love Mai Tais. And Pina Coladas. You love those fruity mixed drinks, Jaybird, and you can't hide it."
Jason… really does. He'll never admit it out-loud, obviously, but he loves fruity mixed drinks. He goes to the bar, and he drinks beer, he goes to dinner at the manor and drinks scotch, and he'll drink whatever champagne or wine they're offering at the few parties or galas he has to go to.
But he's never cared for it. He drinks it because he knows he's supposed to, but... He's a sucker for tropical fruit. Always has been, ever since the day Alfred chopped up a real, fresh pineapple for him to munch on for a snack after school one day.
Something crashes, loud and heavy, and Jason can feel it reverberate through the floor underneath him. It chases all thoughts of beaches and pineapple straight out of his head, and reminds him exactly where he is.
Reminds him exactly how screwed he is.
It's… fine. It'll be fine. Roy's here, and… No matter what happens, Roy won't let Jason die alone, won't let anybody put Jason back in the ground. It'll be okay, because Roy's here.
"Shh, no, no, you're fine, Jay. You're fine, just… you gotta slow down your breathing for me, okay? I can't exactly put your hand on my chest, and I'm pretty sure me pushing on your chest would make something else break, so I really don't have a whole helluva lot of options herr."
Jason's trying. He's trying to breathe, but it hurts. Christ, everything hurts, and the more he tries to focus on which part of him even controls breathing, the more the hurt spreads.
Which is… it's a good thing, probably. Towards the end, after the bomb, he hadn't been able to feel anything. He'd known he was in pain, but none of it had really filtered through as pain. Just a knowledge of pain. And now, everything hurts, the way it did after the crowbar but before the bomb, and that's probably a good thing.
Maybe. Logically speaking, he knows that, even without the bomb, he probably would've died anyway. But there's still a chance. It's when everything stops hurting that Jason knows it's over.
But it's not over yet; he's intimately familiar with what death feels like, the body memory of organs slowly shutting down, of blood filling places it shouldn't be, of a brain slowly, oh-so-slowly giving up the fight.
This isn't that. It's… admittedly, it's bad. But he's not past the point of no return yet, and that's something.
He forces his hand to twitch underneath the heat of -presumably -Roy's palm again. He can still feel it there, and even if his vision is swimming too much to actually see Roy, it's a reminder that he's there.
"There we go. That's it. You're doing great, Jason, just… keep doing that, okay? Nice, steady breaths. In and out. There you go. We're gonna be out of here in no time, and we'll get you patched up, and then we'll be on the first flight to some tropical island somewhere, yeah? Then once you're healed back up, we'll come back here, and we'll hunt down… Who were we hunting again here?"
If Jason could move at all, if he had any real form of control over his body, he'd laugh and cry at the same time. Because… yeah, that kind of encapsulates Roy. He follows wherever Jason leads, trusting Jason to handle the 'big' details.
Although to be fair, in Roy's defense… Even Jason's been losing track lately, one group of idiot drug dealers and gang bangers no different than the next group, or the one after that.
This one though… Johnny Clyde. Jason's gonna remember this one. Gonna make him bleed when Jason gets to a point where he can actually see straight again.
"Doesn't matter, I guess. We'll hunt him down once you're better, and then we'll find a job some place nice. Some place warm, where it doesn't always rain. Maybe… Hey, you liked that place in Colorado, right? Maybe we can go stay there for a while. Probably gonna need some sort of vacation after our recovery vacation; I'm gonna take a guess and say we're gonna be in your dad's creepy cave for at least a week before you're good to actually get up and go anywhere, so second vacation? Definitely a thing."
Jason lets the words drift over him, just listening to the sound of Roy's voice. It's… nice. And if he's gonna die this time, at least it'll be more pleasant than the last time.
When Jason regains consciousness… He kinda wishes he'd just died. Everything hurts, in a way that lets him know he's not gonna be moving for at least a week, forget patrolling or fighting.
Forcing his concrete eyelids open, he has to let them close again; the few seconds was enough for the room to spin, almost violently, colors and angles kaleidoscoping into a nightmarish hellscape that would make the Mad Hatter sick. He feels the urge to puke, and fights it back down, because the idea of his stomach contorting in this state is enough to make him want to tear up.
Some sort of noise must escape, because the next thing he hears is a sleepy, almost muffled, "Jay?"
He can't quite bring himself to open his eyes again, but… he can feel warmth, somewhere by his right side, and…
"'Oy?"
He feels a hand gently wrap around his fingers. "Yeah. Yeah, it's me, buddy. Jesus, Jaybird, you…" Roy stops, and Jason hears him suck in a breath. "You're one lucky son of a bitch, Jason. Don't you ever do that again, you understand me?"
Truthfully… no? It's not like Jason set the bomb, or even knew it was there until it was already too late. Some part of his confusion must show, somehow, because Roy just… sighs.
"Use yourself as a human shield, you asshole," Roy clarifies. "I may not have the frankly ridiculous pain tolerance you bats have, Jaybird, but I'm a big boy; I can take my own hits."
"Mmm." It's the best Jason can manage, that isn't an outright snort. But Roy seems to know what Jason means, and he sighs again.
"Punctured lung, punctured kidney, and intestine, Jason. Massive internal bleeding. By the time the Bats managed to dig us out, you were in a Class III blood loss, verging on Class IV. Broken leg in two places, broken collarbone, serious cuts, burns, and bruises, and we can't forget the grade 3 concussion with an internal brain bleed."
That's… honestly not that bad. Jason's had worse, and that's not even including the time he actually died. The internal bleeding is a new twist, but otherwise… Well, kind of par the course. He risks it for random strangers every night, he'd take that list of injuries to keep Roy safe any day ending in Y.
Unless… Did he keep Roy from getting hurt?
He forces his eyes open, and ignores the nearly overwhelming urge to hurl at the colors and twisting shapes. Breathes through it, until he's sure he can keep the stomach acid firmly where it belongs -in his stomach -and then turns his head enough to look over at Roy.
Once his vision settles enough to be able to actually focus… Roy looks… well, like he went through an explosion. He's got cuts and bruises on his face, and a bandage across the bridge of his nose… One of his arms is in a cast, from his palm up to his elbow… But other than that, he… looks about as good as Jason could hope for, honestly.
He lets his eyes close in contentment. Roy's fine, and with a little R&R, Jason'll be fine soon enough. Couple of weeks, and he'll be back out there.
"You're on mandatory downtime for six weeks."
Jason's eyes fly open again, and it only takes him a few seconds to be able to focus on Roy's face enough to glare.
Roy, however, ignores it, and gives him an almost serene smile. "Bat-mandated. Alfred-mandated. That scary-little-doctor-lady-mandated. Six weeks, minimum. You're not allowed out of bed for a minimum of two weeks."
Jason is not staying in the damn Cave for two weeks. There's no way he'll manage more than a few days before him and Bruce will be at each other's throats, forget two weeks.
"Once you can stay awake for more than half an hour at a time, Dick said he'd help get us to one of your safehouses, and we can stay there for a couple weeks. Then, once we know your insides are going to stay inside, I found a nice little place down in the Florida Keys we can stay at for the rest of the time until your downtime is up."
That's… not ideal. Not as bad as it could be, but… still not ideal.
"Or, conversely, Alfred said we're more than welcome to stay in one of the guest bedrooms here for the full six weeks, where he can keep an eye on you. If you'd rather do that."
The tone of Roy's voice makes Jason wish he could punch Roy in the shoulder. Because Roy knows Jason would rather chew his arm off than spend six weeks staying in the Manor of all places.
"Maybe next time you'll think before using your back as a human shield, huh, Jaybird?"
No. He'd do it again in a heartbeat. He's probably going to do it again, honestly. He's never not gonna put himself between Roy and danger no matter how much the recovery time annoys him.
"I'm serious, Jason; I'm half-tempted to make you stay here for the two weeks," Roy says warningly. "You nearly died, asshole."
Not unless things had gotten a helluva lot worse after Jason passed out, he hadn't. He didn't remember much after the explosion, other than the fuzziness in his ears, and pain, but as somebody pretty intimately familiar with what death felt like…
Still. Roy's clearly worried, which is… kinda nice, in an uncomfortable sort of way. And Jason knows Roy won't make him stay at the Cave, that as soon as Jason's capable of sitting upright on his own, Roy will get him out of there. Roy's… kind of amazing like that. Which is the reason Jason keeps getting hurt trying to keep Roy safe, honestly. Roy's one of the few people he'd throw himself on a grenade for.
Or a bomb, as it turns out.
"Jason… you've got that doofy half-smile/half-glare thing going on." Roy's voice clearly shows how unhappy he is about that. "And part of it is definitely the concussion, but part of it is your dumb ass trying to figure out how to get out of that bed. Not gonna happen. You hear me? I'll tie you here, and have Stalker Robin and Baby Robin take turns monitoring you. I mean it, Jason, don't you tempt me, asshole."
Jason manages a grunt that might also be a groan. To be fair, and in his defense… he was blown up. He's not really capable of eloquent right now. But he makes his hand squeeze down on the palm resting against his own, and tries to give Roy a smile. It feels wrong and lop-sided and crooked, but… it's the effort, right?
It must be, because Roy just sighs, sounding less agitated, and more fond this time. "Yeah, yeah, asshole. We're gonna have a serious talk about this after you're actually capable of blinking without falling asleep. But for right now… Don't worry, I'm gonna stay right here. Alfred promised me soup, and I'm not afraid to piss in bottles and throw them over the edge of the chasm thing, so you're not getting rid of me."
Jason feels like he should wrinkle his nose in disgust at that. Honestly though, he's… touched. Roy knows being in the cave is hard, that it brings back painful memories, and sets Jason's teeth on edge. Being around Bruce, especially when he's entirely defenseless, makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.
But Roy won't let Bruce get started; Roy and his chattering will keep the memories at bay, and as soon as Jason's somewhat functional… Roy will get him out of here.
"Go to sleep, Jaybird. I'll be right here when you wake up."
And Jason lets himself fall asleep, those words -that promise -lulling him off.