Work Text:
Jonathan Crane had escaped from Arkham.
Cue the fear gas.
The cave was as close to pandemonium as it ever got. Crane had been planning this, had planned canisters of the gas across the city to detonate at the same time. Leaving the GCPD overwhelmed with an outrageous number of citizens screaming bloody murder at things no one else could see.
Everyone knew that Scarecrow's fear toxin made you see your worst fears. Gothamites knew the extent to what that actually meant though. Those who didn’t live in the city — who had never experienced a gas exposure — don't understand how much your subconscious brain hides from you.
If you’ve never been exposed then you could think your worst fear is spiders. But when you are exposed for the first time it can unlock a hidden memory, something that was so scarring that your brain walled it off. Buried in the depths of your subconscious that you never even recall why you are scared of that thing.
Everyone knew it was possible to be scared to death. The adrenaline is able to send your heart into a frenzy. Your heart, rabbiting away in your chest until it sends you into a heart attack.
Everyone knew it was medically possible. Gothamites had witnessed it.
That was the trouble with fear gas. If you had an underlying medical condition, or an unknown heart condition. One exposure and you could be dead on the asphalt.
When Scarecrow broke out, it wasn’t just people being scared and running away. You had to worry about the few that would attack their hallucinations, killing fellow citizens in their altered state. And the bodies that would need to be collected as the attack was winding down.
Fear gas sucked.
So the bats ran.
They collected as many ventilator masks and antidotes as they could before they raced out of the cave for an ‘all hands on deck’ situation.
He never needed a ventilator though, one of the perks of wearing a full face helmet is that they are built into the mask.
0o0o0
He changed the formula. Usually the changes were slight, minimal enough so that the antidote would still cure the victim enough to where they could be reasoned with. That wasn’t the case this time.
Anyone who was exposed to the gas began by reacting normally, some got frozen in their fear, just standing and staring at something that wasn't there and they shook like a chihuahua that was left out in the rain. While others ran and hid, screaming various apologies and pleading to their visions as they tried to protect themselves.
Then the rage came.
All of a sudden — according to Red Robin's account it was thirty-six seconds — the victim would turn angry. Furious rage bubbling over, and then they would attack. Anyone and everyone in sight.
They didn’t scream, they didn’t talk. They would just grit their teeth and begin swinging.
Oracle began working with the GCPD, calling for help from all neighboring cities. Begging for volunteer EMTs to come in and help bring the wounded to hospitals outside of the city. All three hospitals in Gotham were overrun before midnight.
They never stood a fighting chance.
0o0o0
The bats had started a rotation of shifts. Shift one was Signal, Black Bat and Red Robin. Shift two was Red Hood, Robin and Spoiler. Leaving Nightwing and Batman to cover the graveyard shift. That way the GCPD would always have bat assistance in the never ending chaos.
It was now nearing 4:00 PM and Jason felt… itchy. Like there was something crawling under his suit with him and he was putting it on.
The little sleep he did get was riddled with nightmares. He had always had bad nights, this one was just especially bad. Likely from the stress he reasoned as he finished getting geared up with Damian and Steph for their shift.
It was quiet in the cave. Bruce and Dick were still asleep upstairs. The three in the cave knew that it was going to be an emotionally and physically draining night.
Jason just felt, twitchy. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. His stomach must have been feeling it too, he had a stomach ache that was more annoying than anything else.
As the three stood to relieve the morning shift Jason all but groaned against the weight of gravity. His muscles still tense from their first night.
“You are moving as though you’ve been hit by a truck, Todd. Explain,” Damian questioned. Having watched Jason's slight wavering as he tried to stand. He had taken a nasty right hook the other night but he was concussion free.
“Fine,” Jason quickly replied. “Just tired I guess.”
0o0o0
More fear gas bombs went off. They needed to find Crane fast before the whole city was swallowed alive.
As the afternoon shift switched with night shift Jason could feel their eyes on him. Just fleeting glances.
“Anybody hurt,” Nightwing asked after they were debriefed. Spoiler and Robin doing most of the talking.
“Hood seems to be inadequate” Robin quickly snarked.
“Nah, he’s just exhausted,” Spoiler explained. “He got caught up in a rowdy group earlier and needed to take a breather after.”
‘Rowdy group’ was an understatement. That mess of people had been 10-15 grown men who had all charged him at the same time.
They were civilians. They were the victims in all of this. He couldn’t just riddle them full of bullet holes to get out.
Needless to say he took quite a few hits before he had been able to get out of the circle.
The “breather” that Spoiler was talking about wasn’t because he was out of breath though. It was something about being shoved in like a sardine that had made his chest tighten.
It wasn’t a panic attack, he had gotten over being scared of his coffin a long time ago. The small space having nothing to do with the breathless feeling.
It was more of a sensory overload. His clothes rubbing against his skin as the multitude of hits berated his body. The hard padding of his armour and helmet taking the brunt of the hits as he was essentially in a very shitty mosh pit.
0o0o0
He didn’t sleep.
It was almost time for his shift again and he hadn’t been able to sleep. His mind constantly spiraling about everything that had happened so far and everything that could happen in the next coming days if this continued.
It had been three days.
Three days non stop of trying to find an antidote that actually worked.
Every twelve hours another set of fear gas bombs would be detonated across the city.
The bats couldn’t get ahead of it. Crane had already been captured. Placed back in Arkham under strict supervision. A psychiatrist trying to negotiate with him to give up the other locations for the bombs.
He wouldn’t talk.
He didn’t want to go out again. He knew he had to. The shifts had been stacked strategically. He was the heavy hitter in his group, if he didn’t go he would be putting Damian and Steph in danger.
He couldn’t risk their safety.
He felt paralyzed. He was still sitting in his bed, just staring at the wall, dreading going down to the cave to put on his underarmour that seemed to be fitting him poorly the last few days.
It didn’t make sense. Gotham was always hell on Earth, sure this was a different favor of spice but it was still within the realm of normal for Gotham.
Why did he want to just curl up into a ball and die.
He couldn’t though, not when the others needed him.
0o0o0
The night had been shit.
The anger gas — or whatever they were supposed to call it now — had marinated in some people for so long that they were now acting rabid.
They were getting overwhelmed. Spoiler and Robin both neck deep in their own tasks they weren’t able to come help him.
It was a repeat of the other night
They couldn’t continue like this.
So he contacted the cave for assistance.
And got nothing.
He contacted Oracle.
Same thing. Silence.
Once again he was all alone. Isolated. Left by those who were supposed to help him to fend for himself.
They didn’t care about him. Never really had. Bruce had seen him as a kicked puppy and taken him home. Just to decide he wasn’t worth the effort and left him to die alone.
Then he came back, and things got worse.
Batman had hit him harder than he had ever hit any of his rogues. He was left beaten and broken more times than he could count when he had first became Red Hood.
Then Batman had thrown the batarang.
Slit his carotid.
Tried to kill him.
Bruce tried to kill his own son while Joker got to live.
Bruce still didn’t treat him the same as the others.
Everyone else was so close.
He was no longer a kicked puppy. Now he was an attack dog on a chain. Forced to live outside in isolation.
He could hear he was hyperventilating.
Instead of trying to break up the fight happening around him, Jason pulled out his grapple line and shot himself to the nearest roof.
He fumbled his landing, fucking up his ankle in the process, as he landed hard on the apartment building. Dropping to all fours to alleviate the pain of his possibly broken ankle.
His ears were ringing, his breathing hitching as he couldn’t stop the spiral. Picking out everything that he had ever done to make the people who were supposed to be his family hate him.
And through all of it, he couldn’t stop hating himself. As he was stuck on this roof, having a pity party for himself, Steph or Dami could (and probably were) stuck somewhere, fighting for their lives.
He had put them in danger.
The ringing in his ears got louder as he flopped onto his back. Black and white spots dancing in his vision as his breathing became more forced.
Bruce was going to disown him again. Dick was going to kill him if anything happened to them.
He didn’t want that, couldn’t face that if they had been hurt. Had been crying out for help over the comms while he was ‘catching his breath’, his ears still ringing away like chimes on a windy day.
He didn’t want to be alone again.
He finally was close enough to the bats to consider them family. Sure he wasn’t as close as the others were, it was more like they were siblings and he was an annoying cousin they had to deal with but he had been okay with that.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Bruce, Dick, Tim, everyone. About how they would leave him if anyone got hurt.
In his oxygen deprived state he had begun to convince himself that the start of the panic attack had been one of them calling out for help, and him unable to get out of the mob of people.
0o0o0
“Hood to cave, I need help.” Dick heard as he was stretching out his tired muscles.
Jogging over to the computer he quickly linked himself with Jason’s comm, “what's going on Hood?” He asked as he began tracking his brother's location on the computer.
There were a few moments of silence before he heard “Hood to cave to do you copy?” At this point he was getting concerned, Jason had been taking a lot of headshots recently and it wasn’t impossible that the speaker of his helmet could be smashed.
If it was thought that would mean he was breathing in the gas.
At that point he heard Jason switch off the link, he had already located his tracker though. He quickly ran to the other side of the room before he began to strip, dressing himself in his Nightwing costume.
He had one leg in the skin tight uniform, trying to hop into the second leg while doing three things at once when another chime of someone connecting to the Batcaves comms rang out. “Oracle to cave, is anyone there?”
Dropping half of his gear and hobbling as fast as he could while trying to pull up his pants Dick replied “I’m here O, what happened to Hood?”
“How did you– nevermind, Hood just contacted me asking for help but couldn’t hear me reply. He is severely hyperventilating, I sent Robin and Spoiler his location but I don’t think either of them have seen him on fear gas before. Not to mention if he gets viole–”
“I’m gearing up now O,” Dick explained as he finally got his suit fully situated. He didn’t need to mention that he too had never seen Jason hyped up on fear gas, he had fought Jason when he was pissed off his gourd though so at least he knew he could handle him himself.
0o0o0
He couldn’t be all alone.
Yet he knew he was too much of a burden for them to keep around.
He couldn’t be alone again.
Instead of facing his family with his new failures, Jason Todd pulled out his gun.
0o0o0
The three of them were racing To Hood’s location as Oracle tried to contact them others.
They didn’t know what happened, Bruce had confirmed their suspicions that it didn’t sound like he had been fear gassed. So what the hell happened?
Nightwing had taken his bike, knowing he would have to wait for Bruce to arrive with the car if Hood needed an extraction. But also knowing the bike would make it easier to weave through the chaotic streets as fast as possible.
It was a trade he was willing to make.
As he reached the location, he all but catapulted himself onto the roof with Hood.
Without allowing his brain to register what was happening Nightwing took off in a dead sprint to Hood, tackling the others sitting form as the gun went off.
0o0o0
No, no no no no no.
They were going to throw him in Arkham. He had tried to get out, tried to help the others. He hadn’t meant for Spoiler and Robin to die. He had called for help, he had tried.
As he began pleading for his freedom, Nightwing pulled Jason's helmeted face to his shoulder. The mechanized voice almost seemed to be fritzing out as it tried to convert the sobs, hiccups and pleads into words that just sounded like a jumbled mess.
Nightwing had no clue what he was saying.
This had to be fear gas exposure.
Holding Hood's head with one hand, he wrapped the other around the man’s shoulders before wrapping his legs around Hood's waist, trying his best to prevent the younger from moving.
Then Hood had caught him in a bone crushing hug.
So, not fear gas?
As Nightwing relaxed his hold on Hood, the ringing from the gunshot began to fade. The blabbering chaos of his family on the comms slowly emerging.
0o0o0
The helmet looked fine other than the few scuff marks, some dirt and the white skid from where the bullet had grazed it.
Jason had been restrained and placed under suicide watch, refusing to let go of Dick even in his restless slumber. Black bat had taken Nightwings shift with Batman tonight.
No more of the gas bombs had detonated in the last 18 hours, signaling that they may be in the clear for now.
As the others slept and recovered, Tim began to run Jason’s blood work and disect his helmet.
0o0o0
“Hey Dick,” Tim asked gingerly. “You awake?”
“Yea, what's up baby bird?” Dick asked as he rubbed his eyes, having clearly been asleep. Jason, still laying curled up next to him, head on Dicks chest as he slept on.
“So, do you want the bad news or the fucked up news first?” Tim asked while rubbing the sleep from his own eyes. He was beyond exhausted, but that didn’t mena he wasn’t needed.
“Surprise me.”
“Jason’s blood work came back positive for fear toxin. But it's the lowest exposure I’ve ever seen so I didn’t think much of it.” He explained as he was scrolling through the notes he had taken on his laptop. “Taking apart the helmet to see why he couldn’t hear us, I didn’t find anything wrong with the speaker system. So I kept looking,” reaching into his pocket, Tim pulled out a filter for a gas mask. There was a small crack in the outer ring of the plastic. Slightly tearing the filter itself.
“One of Hood’s filters was damaged at some point. My theory is that he had been getting low grade fear gassed since Crane escaped. Given what everyone has noticed the past few days with him I think the low grade exposure manifested itself in severe anxiety.”
“Causing him to spiral and …” Dick couldn’t finish his sentence. Instead he just looked at Jason’s sleeping face as Tim got up. Rummaging around before coming back to the bedside and injecting Jason with the antidote.
“That would be my guess yeah” Tim said gently, knowing full well if Dick had been half a second later Jason wouldn’t be here with them now.
0o0o0
In the early hours the next morning Jason’s stirring began to wake Dick up. “You’re okay” Dick murmured as he began to rub soothing circles into Jason’s back.
Jason slowly rose to consciousness. Feeling his pillow slightly rumble underneath his as Dick began humming a song to him. He tried to blink away his slumber. His chest sore from his previous panic attack and his throat raw.
“I got you little wing” Dick reassured as he continued the mindless pattern he was tracing on Jason’s back.
“Dick,” Jason forced out. “Did I—”
“Shh” Dick interrupted. “You’re okay now. You called for help and that's all that matters. I got you, go back to sleep Jay.”
Dick stayed away until Jason’s breathing evened out again. The sound of the gunshot ringing through his head as he brushed back the curls that had fallen in Jason’s face.