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Essence isn’t very good at explaining things. She tends to act first and vaguely answer questions later. Showing up in the Batcave and teleporting Jason and Damian to some mountain peak is a great example of this. Jason can’t see the view, he can’t see anything, but he knows that they’ve been teleported, it is a rather unique experience after all. With the thinness of the air and the low temperature, it’s rather obvious that they’re on a mountain somewhere.
Damian is standing in front of him like a protective meat shield. It hadn’t crossed Jason’s mind until now that Damian has never met Essence, or Ducra. “Damian, this is Essence. We worked together a lot when I was training with the All Caste. She’s a little weird and she doesn't really understand boundaries, but she’s fine.” Damian relaxes slightly but he still doesn’t move from his protective stance. No one else is saying anything so Jason decides to keep some kind of conversation going, he would appreciate some answers. (He’s happy to be out of the cave. He doesn’t have to be close to Bruce, he doesn’t have to feel the constantly shifting souls or feel Dick’s eyes drilling holes into his face.)
“Why’d you take us here? I thought things were going down closer to the Chamber of All?” Jason can almost feel how Essence is looking at him, like her eyes are sighing. Jason hasn’t seen more expressive eyes than Essence’s, the rest of her face might be expressiveless, but never her eyes. He can’t see them, but her look is so heavy that he can almost feel it. “You would not leave without your brother. I brought you both. You might want him to stay here.” Damian shifts, Jason can hear the snow underneath his feet. “Where are we? Why would I stay behind and let you take my brother away?” Essence has moved her gaze away from Jason and onto Damian, he can feel it, it’s almost easier to breathe.
“We are at Peak Korzhenevskaya in Tajikistan. We need to hurry, I think everything is starting within the hour. Stay here, talk. I need to find something.” Essence was surprisingly informative and to the point, Jason appreciates that the crypticness isn’t as high as it could be. “What is she talking about?” Right, Damian doesn’t know the All Caste, and Damian doesn’t know about the dream magic.
“That was Essence, as I said. She entered my head when Alfred and Leslie were doing their doctoring. She said that the Untitled—some evil organization made up of magic souls—is going to attack, and that it’s going to be bad. They need my help.” Jason probably should have told Damian more about the All Caste, he kind of thought that these two worlds wouldn’t merge, that they wouldn’t interact. “You can’t fight. You’re injured, you couldn’t even talk, could barely breathe only hours ago! I wouldn’t want you to fight some of Penguin’s goons, even less some magic entity! No, she has to understand that this is absurd.” Jason feels the same way, if he fights like this, he isn’t going to survive. He would probably be able to take some of his enemies down with him, but he wouldn’t survive. Like this, Jason is going to die.
“Essence said that she was going to take care of that.” Jason can’t get back home from this mountain on his own, he definitely can’t get back home and make sure that Damian gets home with him. He needs to trust Essence, for now. They just have to wait until she returns.
Essence returns alone and empty handed, Jason kind of thought that she would bring someone, or something, along. “S’aru is ready for us. Damian Al Ghul has been granted access to the Chamber of All, I am assuming that he will want to accompany us.” Jason doesn’t want to leave his brother behind, he wants to keep Damian close, he wants to be reminded that he is still alive and breathing. Jason also doesn’t want Damian to be close to the Untitled, something he can’t fight, an indestructible enemy. “I will be joining you.” A part of Jason still wants to resist, to tell Damian to stay behind, to stay safe. That didn’t go very well last time. “Alright.”
They get teleported again. Jason immediately feels that they’re in the Chamber of All. He can feel the magic in the air, the inhales and exhales of the walls and the soaring power underneath his own skin. He can feel the souls of everything around, he can see the colors clearer than ever, he can see everything and yet his eyes take in absolutely nothing. “Fancy meeting you, destined one. And princess Essence, of course.” That must be S’aru. Their soul is old and murky, Jason can just barely make anything out. “Ah, yes, I have lived for thousands of years, it would be very difficult for someone, even of your calibre, to read me.” This guy can read minds? “Indeed, telepathy is one of my many abilities. And yes, little one, I am ignoring you on purpose, please settle down.” Damian doesn’t appear to be very happy with being ignored if his grumble and shifting soul is anything to go by.
Still, Jason does not appreciate being thrown into the same room as a psychic without any warning. At least Martian Manhunter was less obvious and obnoxious about it when Jason met him as a kid. “Please, do not compare me to such novices, I am far more complex of a character than that man. Now, I believe we are here for a reason. Right, princess?” Jason has already had enough.
“S’aru has very strong and unique abilities. He will be able to heal you back to full health. It is not a risk-free ability, but I want you to let him perform it.” Of course there’s a risk, of course there will be consequences. “What kind of risks are we talking about?” Jason can feel Damian tense at the possibility, he can feel a faint trace of hope growing in the both of them, nipping that hope in the bud is very difficult. Jason wants to be able to see.
S’aru’s soul stirs, Jason doesn’t know what it means other than the fact that it means something. “If you accept my deal—because healing you will require a deal—your health will be back to normal. Your sight will be back, for starters. You won’t be feeling any pain from the beating you received not too long ago either. The remains of the Lazarus waters in your soul will also disappear. No more intense rage, no more evil controlling your thoughts and soul. The benefits will also be gone, no more quicker healing, no more increased physical abilities. You will have to eat and sleep just like any other human, the Lazarus’ hold will be gone.” That can’t be all, there has to be some kind of ‘but’ coming, Jason would do almost anything for the pit to be gone.
“You’re right. All of that is only the thing that the princess is bargaining for, your health. What I require in return, is simply a few memories.” There is a change in Essence, it almost looks like guilt. “What kind of memories?” Jason feels a sense of dread grow in his stomach. “For this deal to come to fruition, I need your dearest memory with the five people you love most. Dearest memory might not be the memory where you are happiest, it might even be a very bittersweet memory—with dearest I mean a memory that has had a great positive impact on you.” One memory of five people. Five memories, five moments, gone. Five important memories, memories that might positively define who he is, define his relationships with his most beloved people.
Essence touches his shoulder, Jason doesn’t bother to shrug it away. Damian is silent. “Jason…without you, we won’t be able to win. Without you, the entirety of the All Caste is going to die. The Chamber of All will be destroyed. We need your help.” Jason feels cold, he shrugs Essence’s hand off of his arm, it had started traveling down to his bicep. Would the memories disappear from the other party as well, would it be possible to regain them?
“To answer your questions, the other party will be able to remember, but you will never be able to regain those memories. Though, it is possible to create new ones.” Jason doesn’t dare to try and think about what his dearest memories would be, he doesn’t dare to think about what he is inevitably going to lose. Because Jason is going to take this deal, he cannot walk away from this opportunity. He can’t walk away when he is able to save people. Jason can’t refuse when the result will give him back the opportunity to see Damian’s smile. “It’s only one memory from each person, yes?” Jason doesn’t know why he’s asking questions, he’s already made up his mind. “That is correct.”
“Damian, I am going to accept the deal,” Jason doesn’t have to look into his eyes when he says it, blindness has its perks. “...would…would you please remind me if anything changes? If these memories are too important and I start acting like someone else.” Jason is terrified about what he is going to lose. He doesn’t like the color of Damian’s soul. “I promise.” Damian doesn’t have to say ‘you don’t have to do this’ or ‘you’re an idiot for always sacrificing yourself, and I wish you would start putting yourself first,’ because Jason can hear it anyway.
“S’aru, I accept your deal.” The room is suddenly a lot colder. S’aru snaps his fingers. Everything goes quiet, everything is darker.
Jason opens his eyes. He can see, there’s so much color even in a colorless room. Jason immediately knows where he is, he knows those torn mustard-yellow walls and that couch like the back of his hand. “Go ahead Jason, you can open it.” Jason never thought that he would hear her voice again. Catherine Todd. Jason’s mother, the one who raised him. She’s sitting on the couch, five year old Jason is sitting in her lap. Jason can do nothing but watch from afar. This is a memory, Jason is going to lose it.
Little Jason carefully opens the gift with clumsy fingers, he removes the gift wrap without unnecessarily tearing it, preserving it to be wrapped again and again. Catherine is smiling with her entire face, her hands are twitching with the urge to grab her son tighter. Willis had been sent to prison only days earlier, he had probably been sent to jail for committing the crime that earned the money for Jason’s birthday gift. Five year old Jason looks into the box with wide, shocked eyes before breaking out in a delighted squeal. The box contains two cheap tickets to Mary Poppins. Jason had wanted to see a play for ages. He was finally able to go at the price of his father being sent to prison.
Jason watches from the other side of the room, he wants to get closer and be a part of the hug that his younger self is sharing with his mother. “Let me go fetch your cookie.” Jason didn’t get a cake, Catherine was never very good at baking and couldn’t afford to buy a finished one, not after purchasing those tickets. Jason reaches out to touch her when she enters the kitchen, his arm passes right through. Jason is in one of his memories, his favorite one of his mother. Jason is going to forget that this evening ever happened, this is going to be one of the things he is going to lose.
Catherine walks back to the couch with the cookie in hand. Little Jason makes grabby hands at it with stars in his eyes. Jason keeps watching, he keeps watching as his vision blurs enough for everything to fade into nothingness. Jason doesn’t know what he’s missing, all he knows is that there’s a hole in his heart, and that a single tear is running down his cheek. Everything is quiet, everything is dark.
Jason opens his eyes. He’s in Nanda Parbat, he’s in Talia’s room. Talia is sitting at her desk, graceful as ever. Memory Jason is standing in front of her, hugging himself with shaking arms. “Why did you do it? Why would you go against your father and risk your own life, and in turn your son’s, for me?” Jason remembers that day. He had just come back from his first mission outside of Nanda Parbat, he killed fifteen people with one knife. Memory Jason’s body is shaking from exhaustion. Jason remembers hearing voices, hearing them ricochet against the sides of his skull. Jason remembers not feeling in control of his body. Jason remembers feeling lost and afraid. Twelve of the fifteen people he killed had been League Assassins, Talia was the only reason why Ra’s didn’t order his execution.
“Jason, you are not a stranger. I found you, you are my responsibility and I have grown fond of you. Of course I will make sure that you are kept alive, even from the hands of my father.” Memory Jason presses his nails so deep into the skin on his arms that they start to bleed. Good thing that Damian will start forcing him to cut them soon. “But why me? He—Batman doesn’t even care! So why? You won’t get anything out of protecting me! Why won’t you just let me die?” Memory Jason almost growls out that word, Batman. He says it like it’s dirty, like it’s a slur or a curse.
Jason didn’t realize it back then, but Talia looks very vulnerable, she looks upset. “Jason, is it really that difficult to believe that I care for you? If not me, then that Damian does? We care for you, you are important. We do not wish for you to die.” Talia doesn’t hug him, Jason probably would have acted out if she did. She smiles, she smiles and lets her body be as open as she ever lets it be. With her body, she shows that she trusts Jason, that she loves him, that he’s family. “I don’t deserve it.” Jason still doesn’t believe that he deserves to be loved. But he has learned to accept the fact that he is. Jason doesn’t deserve to be loved, but Talia and Damian love him anyway. This conversation, this early morning in Talia’s room, is when Jason first started to believe that living was allowed. This moment is when the idea of something greater than revenge started to grow, this is the birth of Jason’s hope.
Memory Jason shakes his head. Talia smiles and nods. “Damian is waiting for your return. Make sure to shower and get a few hours of sleep before visiting him. He has missed you profusely.” Jason keeps watching, he keeps watching as his vision blurs enough for everything to fade into nothingness. Jason doesn’t know what he’s missing, all he knows is that there’s a hole in his heart, and that his eyes are wet. Everything is quiet, everything is dark.
Jason opens his eyes, the cave lights are just light enough. Comforting, nostalgic. Memory Jason walks down the stairs, he almost stumbles on the last step and has to catch himself on the wall. He looks pale, his eyes are glazed over and he is shivering. Jason watches as his younger self wobbles into the changing room and takes on the Robin suit. It looks difficult with shaking fingers and unsteady legs. Memory Jason is in much rougher shape than Jason remembers being.
Jason follows Robin back into the main section of the cave, Batman is there, waiting for him. He looks at Robin with a slight frown, he isn’t wearing the cowl yet. “Jason, are you alright?” Jason remembers holding back a cough and trying to make his voice sound less scratchy. “I’m fine. Let’s patrol.” The smile is not very convincing, the pale, clammy skin isn’t either. Jason was thirteen and hadn’t been Robin for very long, he still wanted to prove that he was useful. That he was good enough to be kept, good enough to stay. Bruce crouches down and takes off his glove and gauntlet in a practiced motion. “Let me get your temperature?” His hand stops a fair bit away from memory Jason’s forehead, a silent question for consent. “Fine.” Bruce is smiling, his eyes carrying a mixture of a soft smile and worry.
Bruce’s left hand cradles his face as his right takes out a thermometer from one of the pouches on his belt. Memory Jason has a fever, a pretty high one. Bruce is frowning at the number. “We should give up patrol for tonight. You can not go out like this.” Memory Jason’s face looks pinched, like he’s trying his hardest to not appear as defeated as he feels. Jason can’t help but think about how young he looks. He can’t help but envy the love in Bruce’s touch, in his face. The last time Jason saw Bruce, he was beating him to death. What the fuck happened?
“I’m sorry. I really want to help, I probably still could. Please.” Bruce has put the thermometer back in its place, both of his hands are resting on memory Jason’s shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m sure Barbara can handle Gotham alone for tonight. If she’s the one who asks, maybe Nightwing will make an appearance as well.” Little Jason looks like he can’t believe what Bruce is saying. “You—you’re not going?” Jason doesn’t want to look at this. “Of course not. I can’t just let my kid be sick and miserable all alone, can I?” My kid. Bruce’s smile is so warm, so full of love and care. Jason feel sick. He kind of wants to lose this memory, that might make all the hurt less painful. He also wants to keep this memory safe in a locket around his neck and cherish it forever.
“Can we watch a movie? On the big couch?” Bruce laughs. Jason wants this memory to be over. Jason doesn’t want this to end. “Why don’t you go back and change into something comfortable whilst I’m calling Barbara? I’m sure that Alfred can make something that’ll go down easily with a sore throat along with the move.” Jason watches as his younger self hurries back to the changing room on shaking legs. Jason watches as Bruce carries him up to the big couch that Alfred has already dressed in an absurd amount of blankets and pillows. Jason watches until his younger self has fallen asleep in Bruce’s arms with a small smile on his face. Jason simply keeps watching, he keeps watching until his vision blurs enough for everything to fade into nothingness.
Jason doesn’t know what he’s missing, all he knows is that there’s a hole in his heart, that his head hurts, and that a bitter tear is stuck at the corner of his mouth. Everything is quiet, everything is dark.
Jason opens his eyes, he’s met with a sky full of stars. Gotham usually isn’t a great place for stargazing, not with the smog, air-pollution and never-ending bad weather—but the sky is surprisingly clear, the stars surprisingly bright. Jason already mourns losing this memory.
Memory Jason and Dick are splayed out on the Wayne manor roof, bodies close together, looking up at the stars. There’s an empty plate next to Dick, empty if not for a few crumbles from what’s left of Alfred’s cookies. Jason doesn’t remember why eating cookies were so important, he just knows that they were significant, that it meant something that Alfred always made cookies instead of other treats or pastries.
“Stop it.” Memory Jason’s voice is sudden in the quiet, even the birds keep any noise to a minimum. “Stop what?” Dick is frowning, almost pouting, Jason can’t really make sense of how much he’s changed, of how much more expressive he used to be. “Stop worrying. I’ve already forgiven you, it’s no big deal.” Jason is going to forget about forgiving Dick. It hadn’t been a big deal, not really, but it’s still important, it impacts how Jason acts towards Damian.
Jason had fought with Bruce, he doesn’t really remember what the fight was about, it was before the Garzonas case, but Jason had left Gotham to stay with his big brother. He wanted to escape from Bruce, to escape the judgement. He wanted his big brother and Dick wasn’t there. Dick had left for a mission without saying anything, he didn’t even log it anywhere, he just left, against protocol. Damian was met with a locked door, pre-recorded voice notes and silence instead of his big brother. Jason didn’t have a key to Dick’s apartment. He spent the night at a 24/7 café and was only allowed to stay so long because he spent so much of Bruce’s money that the profits were too good to refuse.
When Dick eventually returned, Alfred had snitched and Dick came rushing for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving, Little Wing! I’ll do better next time, promise!” Later that night, Dick had brought him up to the roof to look at the stars. The reason why Jason was so quick to apologize to Damian the first time Essence stole him away to fight the Untitled in Brazil was this memory, and Jason is going to lose it.
Jason looks up at the sky, he waits, he knows what's coming. There it is, a falling star, bright and beautiful. Jason watches as his younger self and Dick turn so quickly towards each other that they almost fall off the roof, their arms out and pointing, smiles broad and real. “Make a wish!” Their voices intertwine perfectly, spoken at the exact same time, in perfect harmony. They’re laughing, they’re happy.
Jason keeps watching, he keeps watching as his vision blurs enough for everything to fade into nothingness. Jason doesn’t know what he’s missing, all he knows is that there’s a hole in his heart, and that his eyes are wet. Everything is quiet, everything is dark.
Jason opens his eyes, he sees himself in a hallway of Nanda Parbat. He doesn’t look very good, skin pale, eyes lidded. There’s a lot of dried blood, it looks as if memory Jason had bathed in blood and hadn’t been able to wash it all off. Jason knows where this memory is going. He follows himself through the hallways, they walk slowly, memory Jason forces back a flinch at every step. Jason is almost impressed with himself, sure he didn’t look good—at all—but he had just gotten tortured for hours. Walking slowly to make sure that the stitches don't break is rather reasonable.
Memory Jason doesn’t stop until he is standing outside of Damian’s chamber, he knocks. Damian opens the door, he spends some time observing the dried blood at memory Jason’s temples before moving on to the next patch that he hadn’t been able to clean. Damian doesn’t look scared or put-off even though Jason had nicked his throat with a blade right before he ran off to get tortured as punishment, it’s just as jarring to see it a second time. Jason still isn’t sure what convinced him that seeing Damian again would be ok.
Damian raises his arm to point at the shower, memory Jason looks at it as if he’s never seen someone point at something before. Damian raises a brow, Jason follows his younger self to the shower. He is walking like a robot, mechanical and stiff. His body sags as the water at his feet turn a dark maroon, he has broken a few stitches on his back. Fresh blood washes away with the dried remains. Jason looks at his own body, or his memory-him’s body, and wonders if the scars left behind from those bleeding wounds are going to remain, if his body is going to fully reset for a second time. Jason is tired, tired of being reset and forgetting things, of being treated like a character in a book that people can treat and dress however they like.
Memory Jason stretches out his shoulders as best as he can before re-wrapping the wounds on his back, carefully making sure that the blood won’t bleed through his clothes. Jason thinks that the shower takes about fifteen minutes, it feels like hours. Memory Jason walks back into Damian’s room, he is directed to his spot on the floor, pillows and blankets carefully spread out to make him comfortable. Jason watches from a few paces away, scared to get too close, scared that he will reach out to touch only to pass right through, Jason doesn’t know why.
Damian is painting two birds, one sitting on a branch and the other on a rock. The one in the tree is watching the one on the rock as it scans for prey. It’s beautiful. Jason knows those birds, he knows what it feels like to fly and sing like them. The Snow Mountain Robin and Golden-Bellied Flyrobin, their birds. Jason is almost glad that neither of them chose those specific birds as their vigilante names—those birds are theirs, not Gotham’s, not Bruce’s, only theirs.
Jason looks over his younger self’s shoulder, he’s reading Mandarins, a collection of three stories written by poet Ryonosuke Akutagawa. Jason manages to catch a few glimpses of the pages from afar. “I could wish for nothing more than to die for a childish dream in which I truly believed.” “Even Zeus, the grandest of the gods, is no match for the goddesses of vengeance.” Jason wonders if Diana would agree with Akutagawa’s sentiment.
“What are you reading?” That’s the first word Damian has spoken in this memory. “An Akutagawa collection, I just finished and was just about to start In a Grove.” Damian hums, Jason watches as he does some finishing strokes with a small brush. “Would you read aloud, the quiet is boring me.” Damian spoke without emotion lingering in his voice, Jason knows that this, just like directing him to take a shower, is proof of forgiveness, something Jason didn’t, and still doesn’t, deserve. Jason is going to forget this mercy. “Sure.”
Memory Jason reads with confidence, he only falters once. As usual, Jason has trouble keeping himself together when things remind him of Bruce. It used to be a lot worse, it was worse back in this memory, Jason remembers holding the book hard enough that his knuckles turned white and biting his tongue hard enough to bleed. He is able to watch this reaction live, he hates it. “When I kill a man, I do it with my sword, but people like you don’t use swords. You gentlemen kill with your power, with your money, and sometimes just with your words: you tell people you’re doing them a favor. True, no blood flows, the man is still alive, but you’ve killed him all the same. I don’t know whose sin is greater – yours or mine.”
Damian doesn’t ask about what happened, he doesn’t even look at Jason in any kind of pitiful inquiry, all he does is pretend that he’s still painting. Damian even switches brushes on occasion, dips them in paint or water and pretends to move it across the canvas in confident strokes. Damian is just a kid, even more of a kid in this memory—he’s the kindest person Jason has ever met. Jason is going to forget about this moment, about this entire interaction. Jason is going to forget about so much, but he won’t forget about Damian’s thoughtfulness, about his kindness, because that has always been there. Damian wouldn’t be Damian if he wasn’t kind.
Jason is smiling. He is going to forget, but that is fine. Everything is fine. Jason would forget about everything if it meant he got to see Damian smile again.
Jason keeps watching, he keeps watching as his vision blurs enough for everything to fade into nothingness. Jason doesn’t know what he’s missing, all he knows is that there’s a huge hole in his heart, that he’s smiling and that his head hurts. Everything is quiet, everything is dark.
Jason opens his eyes. Green. So green. “Jason?” Jason can see. Damian is right there, clothes bloody and torn, skin unblemished. Jason looks around, his neck strains from the movement. Tall pillars from floor to high ceiling, ornamental carvings on the walls, plants and branches curling around every corner like snakes. Essence isn’t there but S’aru is, he’s nothing like Jason imagined. He’s short with a child-like body and a face that’s more mature with long lashes and plucked brows. He’s bald and wears a lot of jewelry, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings and the like, all gold—none of it clatters when he moves, not even the many large bracelets around his wrists or ankles. Jason singles back on his brother, tries his best to ignore the dried blood, and lets himself relax for a second.
“You do not have time to relax, the fighting has already begun. We’ve already lost a couple of lives.” Shit. “Yeah, shit. You were supposed to forget memories, not the situation at hand. Unless, of course, I’m one of the five people you love most, but I’m certain that is not the case.” Jason ignores S’aru and his stupid clam shell-looking chair and takes just a few seconds more to stare at Damian. “Where do I go?” Jason doesn’t look away from Damian. “The door works like a portal, it will take you to the main chamber.”
Jason takes a deep breath. “Listen to me, Baldy. If even a hair on his head is out of place when I come back, I’ll make sure to kill you and take the memories you stole from me out of your rotting corpse.” Jason would like to show some dominance before he walks out into a warzone made up of beings that’s all thousands of years older than him. “That a promise?” Damian’s careful words ring through his head, “You’re very good at breaking promises, you should really learn not to make promises that you can’t keep.” Jason thinks back to Essence’s hypothesis about pink All Blades. “Your All Blades will be pink every time you’re within your brother’s presence. Love is supposed to be this great, all consuming emotion, I suppose that it isn’t too farfetched to assume that its properties change depending on what you need them to do.”
“It’s a promise.” Jason flicks his wrists, pink lights up the room. It’s a bright, all-encompassing pink. Jason steps through the door and lets the chaos wash over him. Jason is missing a couple of memories, but he can still fight. The All Caste won’t get blown off the map on his watch. Jason takes another step forward and engages with the closest enemy. It turns out that the Untitled don’t like pink very much.
Jason can fight, and Damian is safe. Sure, Jason lost a couple of memories, but he doesn’t even remember what he’s lost. Everything is fine.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Dick is sitting on the floor in the shower, if he had been in a shower not owned by Bruce Wayne the water would have gone cold a while ago. The skin on the pads of his fingers and toes are wrinkled and overly soft, his nails are cut just far enough that the soft flesh is what’s cutting into his skin rather than sharp nails. The water has long since started to run off clear instead of red, Dick has scrubbed his skin raw, he’s clean—he feels dirtier than ever, he can almost feel blood running all over his skin, he can almost smell iron in the air, he can almost see redness in the clear water that whirls around his feet and hips.
Dick wants nothing more than to close his eyes, but he can’t, every time he closes them he sees Jason, on the floor, bleeding. If Dick lets his eyes flutter close, he will see Damian carefully, lovingly, remove Jason’s broken cowl and mask, he will see the bloodied mess that’s underneath. Dick can’t do it, his eyes hurt from being forced to stay open, Jason’s eyes probably hurts more.
Dick didn’t want Damian to let him into his room, Dick didn’t want to look him in the eye. It still hurts that he was directed away. Dick messed up with Jason, he messed up bad. This is worse. This is so much worse. Dick didn’t know that Cardinal was Jason Todd, and that makes it worse. It shouldn’t be the fact that it was Jason who got hurt that made Dick realize that Cardinal shouldn’t be beaten to death, the fact that Damian and Cardinal are family should be enough. Dick knew, he knew, but still did nothing. The water is so hot that it burns, the water pressure is hard enough to feel like needles piercing skin.
There’s pounding on his door, not the bathroom door, but the room that the bathroom is in. Dick ignores it, he puts his forehead against his knees and stares at his own scarred skin, red and a little swollen from the heat. “Dick!” Dick doesn’t want to talk to Tim, he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. He wants to swirl down the drain along with the clean water that Dick almost convinces himself is blood-red. “Dick!” It’s a little louder this time, Dick pushes his forehead harder into his knees, pushes his fingers harder into flesh, he doesn’t close his eyes.
The sound of the water hitting the floor appears louder when he waits for the next shout of his name, it doesn’t come. It’s just the sound of the water. Dick moves his head a bit, he bites the skin above his right knee, the pain grounds him—the water doesn’t hurt anymore. It tastes like warm water.
There’s pounding on the bathroom door, Dick startles at the sudden closeness of the sound. Tim must have lockpicked his way in, Dick is certain he locked the door, maybe Tim has made keys for all of their rooms, that would make sense. Dick releases the mouthful of knee, the indents left behind from his teeth are deep, he touches them with the soft, wrinkly pads of his fingers. The knocking starts up again, or maybe it never ceased in the first place. “Dick!” This is pathetic. “What?” Dick doesn’t recognize his own voice. “We have a…situation. Cass has called a meeting, it’s important.” Dick is tired. Do they really need him? “Why?” Dick doesn’t want to get out of the shower, he doesn’t trust his legs to stand.
“Cardinal and Damian are gone, and something happened to Bruce. Cass won’t give any details until all of us are there. So, please, get OUT of the damn shower!” Dick should probably be panicking about this, somewhere deep inside he is panicking, he doesn’t move, his fingers are still moving around the bite mark. “Dick?” Why is there always something going on? Why can’t the cosmos or wherever just let them be? “Yeah. I’ll be there.” His voice still sounds alien. “Please hurry, I’ll wait in the hallway.”
Dick gets to his feet, slowly. The water gets in his eyes, he turns the shower off. Everything is too quiet without the sound of water hitting the floor. Dick’s skin looks raw, he tries not to look at it. He barely towels himself off before taking on the first pieces of clothing he sees. The fabric sticks uncomfortably to his skin, water droplets run from his hair and down his face, his neck. Dick doesn’t bother taking on any socks, he opens the door.
“Finally, I want to know what’s going on.” Tim’s eyes don't match the tone of his voice, he looks at Dick with concern. Dick doesn’t deserve it.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Everything is a mess, Jason is thriving. Just the smallest scratch is enough against the average Untitled, Jason has exorcised them in triple digits. Some of them are stronger, strong enough to get his blood pumping, for his lungs to sting and his soul to tire. Jason keeps fighting. Time passes, Jason doesn’t know how much. He gets hungry and tired and his muscles ache, he’s thirsty and he kind of needs to take a piss—but his mind is his own and fighting for the sake of protecting without voices screaming for blood is fun. Ra’s Al Ghul and his Lazarus Pit can eat his ass.
Jason occasionally sees Essence flicker in and out of his vision, he never spots Ducra.
Jason keeps fighting, he keeps pushing forward. At times he unsummons the All Blades, thinks about Damian, and summons them again. The injured All Caste members come back into play and little by little, the numbers shift. Jason just needs to think about Bruce or Ra’s, and then his blades go back to being lethal. Jason moves without having to think, it’s not easy—some Untitled are stubborn and tough as hell—but Jason manages, he keeps winning. The tide is turning, the All Caste seem to be winning, slow and steady, the Untitled’s numbers are dwindling.
~._.~-*-~._.~
Bruce is twitching on the bed, Alfred had to tie him down to make sure that he wouldn’t hurt himself. He’s had convulsions and at one point almost tried to rip his own eyes out. It’s a gruesome sight. Tim has been asking clarifying questions over and over, Dick almost tunes them out at this point. “So he’s re-visiting his worst memories?” Cass nods, her brows are furrowed and her arms are crossed. Dick doesn’t know what to think. “It’ll last a week? This bad all the time?” Cass never looks away from Bruce. “She said that he will wake up after a week. I do not know much more than that.”
Bruce screams and mumbles, Dick is glad for the protective gag he wears, he wouldn’t want to know what he’s saying. It’s a win-win, Bruce doesn’t bite off his own tongue, and Dick doesn’t have to listen to him beg and mourn. “Shouldn’t we try to find them? We don’t know who that lady is and she’s obviously dangerous.” Dick touches the outline of the bite mark over the fabric of his pants. “I don’t think we can. Find them, I mean.” Dick feels Tim’s eyes drilling holes into his skull, he doesn’t meet them, looking at Bruce’s shaking form instead.”We should at the very least try! Sure, Damian is pretty good in a fight but Cardinal is injured and blind. They don’t stand a chance against this magic lady if she decides that they aren’t worth her time! Even worse, if she needs their help to fight something, if she can’t kill it, Damian and a newly blinded man suffering from blood loss surely can’t!”
Tim looks at Cass for help, he looks almost desperate, Steph still hasn’t said a word, neither has Alfred or Leslie. “She was telling the truth. We should be careful, but I think we should wait.” Tim turns against Steph, mouth set in a thin line and eyes wide open. “I trust Cass. If she thinks we should wait, and that this Essence told the truth, I’m inclined to agree. Searching for them is only going to tire us out if everything comes down to a fight whenever they do come back.” Tim drags his hands through his hair and down his face. “Alfred, Leslie?” They shake their heads. “We have to look after Bruce, we can’t know for sure that it won’t get worse.” In a last ditch effort he turns back to Dick.
“You know who he is. Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t want to find him. I know you well enough to know that. Don’t lie to me, and more importantly, don’t lie to yourself.” Dick doesn’t answer, he doesn’t know what to say. He can’t get his mouth to open, even less make it say something. “You fucking hate yourself for everything you’ve ever done, so what. This is your chance to prove to yourself that you want to do better. Say Cass is right and Essence comes back with the two of them fine as rain, wouldn’t it still feel better to know that you did whatever you could to make sure that they were safe? Do you want to hate yourself?”
Dick wants to get back in the shower. Dick can still taste the warm water around the flesh above his knee. Dick starts walking towards the door. “You’re just going to leave? That’s it?!” Dick doesn’t look back, his mouth finally manages to open. “We might be more in luck if your boyfriend wants to help. I’ll ask Donna.” Dick doesn’t wait around to hear Tim’s reply. Having some other newly resurrected people on board might be helpful. If Donna can borrow the invisible plane, even better, Dick kind of doesn’t want to get back into the Batplane in the near future if he’s got a choice.