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In all his years as Batman, Bruce had seen enough to know and understand the limitations on his own psyche, how he'd hear something that would leave an echo in his brain for the rest of the whole week. How he'd seen something that would register itself to the compendium of nightmares. Some nights, Gotham was his hope. His belief and the firm determination to honour a promise, a duty. Other nights, that belief would shake. It would shrivel and wither and beg for evidence.
As it continued to shrivel and wither with every passing second right then. When he was leaned on top of a woman, body as cold as the Gotham harbour. Face gaunt, arm riddled in track marks, not breathing. And a needle catching a glint of the light in that dark warehouse they rescued all the others from. A needle that was still stuck in her arm.
Her body shook with every compression as Bruce fell into the routine. Moving, willing, forcing, with everything in both his palms, for her heart to start again. At 30th he stopped to give her rescue breaths when he saw Jason. A million different things running through his head as he watches his kid, wiping at her mouth, tilting her head back and closing her nose. Leaning down as if with practiced efficiency not that of a thirteen year old. Never a thirteen year old. Not a word passed between them as they worked in sync as Bruce did the compressions and Jason did the breaths.
A routine that repeats not long as footsteps flood the warehouse and the EMTs start taking over. Bruce stands back, talking to one of them, informing them about the drugs in her system, naloxone having been administered and that she wasn't breathing when they found her. Following that they simply put her on the stretcher. Female, early 20s, opioid overdose, time of death 00:47.
Bruce opened his mouth to interject but then his eyes landed on Jason. Sitting right where he had been on his knees by her head. Face, unreadable. Eyes, unseeing. Shoulders slack in resignation in a way Robin should never be. Female, early 20s, opioid overdose, time of death 00:47.
The same million things, running through yet again but only one screaming at him. Jason shouldn't be here. Jason shouldn't see this. He doesn't realize as he makes his way over, more footsteps flooding in with now officers barking orders. Not what he needs right now, and he knows. He knows he needs to hand the bust over to the commissioners, debrief and bring the case to an end. But he's not needed there, at least not as much as he's needed here.
He gets on his knees in front of Jason, reaching out with his hand and then deciding against it.
"Robin?", and Bruce prepares himself, prepares to say something following that. To be there in the one way he can right now and that being the suit. But quite the opposite happens. Jason stands up like almost snapped out of something. Bruce stands with him but Jason's already walking out. And all he could do is watch his back as the heaviness in his heart sinks deeper. All he could do is follow suit and get into the Batmobile, ride back to the cave with the silence he'd never known in Jason's company.
Bruce knew... the circumstances. Jason's upbringing, Catherine's health condition and her battle with addiction. One she couldn't win. But thats where the depth of his knowledge ends. He never had in him to ask Jason first hand about the things in his file and it hits like a brick that the kid has almost been with him for a whole year now. The same kid who now sits mere centimeters from him, wordlessly staring outside the window.
Bruce must've glanced his way a good too many times. Wanting to say something. To reach out and break through the wall he can physically feel Jason building up in real time. The gap being he didn't know how. And thus stretched the chasm of silence eating up at every opportunity between them.
When they arrived at the Cave, Bruce couldn't not look away from Jason. The seeping autopilot he could tell anywhere. The mechanical movements with which Jason took off his gear. Going through the motions, his eyes still distant. When Jason heads to change in the shower, Bruce begins work on the debrief. Fear knawing at his chest as his concern grew with every second. For his kid. He waits. And he waits long, allowing Jason his time, his space.
Finally Jason steps out, hair dripping wet and soaking his night shirt. He does little to acknowledge Bruce as he starts making his way towards the staircase.
"Jason", Bruce calls out. He stops in his tracks, turning to face him with one foot already on the stairs. "A moment?", he says gesturing for him to come towards him.
Jason steps down, walking towards Bruce, who stood still in his suit lacking the cape and his cowl. He doesn't say a word.
"Tonight was rough. But you did good", he leans infront of him, getting on Jason's eye level. He wants to say more, he wants to point out his pride. His son who took charge of the bust and helped those women out. Took charge in his stead to give rescue breaths to the one they couldn't save. He doesn't have the words.
Jason nods, a miniscule movement of his head. Not looking at Bruce, eyes remaining downcast. His body goes rigid at his comment, Bruce notices. Fists clenched until they are white and the nails digging into his palms. Bruce's hands move without thought, reaching to hold Jason to ease him into letting go but the instant they touch Jason flinches violently and pulls back. Bruce curses internally, opening his mouth to apologize when Jason beats him to it.
"I'm sorry", his voice small, a cracked edge to them which sounds all to familiar and once again Bruce finds himself preparing.
Maintaining his composture, he asks, "Why, Jay?"
He hears a barely concealed shake in Jason's inhale as he utters, "Should've done better", fists clenching again. "Should've...", it's almost a whisper and Jason doesn't finish, sounding almost breathless. A hitch and, "I'm sorry."
Then Bruce notices it. Slights tremors and twitches, his body tensed and his shoulders pulled in like he was shrinking away. Making himself small. His breathing pattern abruptly shifted to fast, coming in shallower by the second. The fists remained clench. Bruce was sure he is going to draw blood. Bruce moves again, just shifting towards Jason a little bit.
"Jason?", he says gently. No response. "Jay, can you look at me?"
Jason steps further away, crossing his arms and leaning in on himself. Both his hands holding his elbows now but his nails now digging into skin. Another hitch in his breath when Bruce stands up and moves forward. Only for Jason to take a few steps back. "I'm sorry", scratches forming on his arm.
"It's not your fault, Jason", he tries to keep firm, remain calm. Urgency growing inside him and his brain screaming for a plan, screaming to de-escalate before it comes to a hold.
Jason shakes his head, shrinking further as what almost sounds like a sob escapes his mouth. "I killed her", he whispered. "I killed her", he repeats as his hands move to his head, gripping at his hair.
"No. No, Jay-", Bruce knows hes not talking about today, it's no longer about the woman. Its a woven thing, memory, interconnected through the inconceivably smallest of the things and what Jason just witnessed was a full blown reopening of the trauma.
Something akin to a cry escapes Jason's mouth, almost broken. Raw and wounded. In the same way he'd seen before, Jason pulls at his hair and hits his clenched fists at his head. As soon as Bruce moves into action, Jason screams. His hands almost instantaneously moving from his head to his neck, nails dragging at the skin leaving deep red lines.
"Jason!", the distance is closed in an instant and Bruce grabs hold of Jason's wrists. Pulling his hand away and much like the last few times, tries to pull Jason into a bear hug. The only difference being what is between him and Jason in the moment and its not in Bruce's control. Jason struggles against him, fighting with everything he'd got.
The hold came automatic now, despite how cluncky it felt with Bruce being in his Batsuit. Bruce moved behind Jason wrapping his arms around him in a back to chest fashion, keeping the hold on his wrists intact. It almost looked like he was hugging Jason hugging himself. The only hold they'd ever used, practiced a few times. The same one in the protocol.
Unlike the previous times, there were no words being uttered. No offenses and obscenities, no vitriol. Just cries, breathless and heavy. And a struggle so determined to continue the hurt. To bring some deliverance.
"Jay, you're okay. You're okay-"
But it wasn't. The crisis was getting to him and Bruce could feel his own heart pounding. Not helping the child held to his chest who's own heart was going haywire. He kept trying to stop Jason hitting his head at his collarbone, which because of the suit could only do more damage to Jason. It wasn't working.
The thing that Bruce realized, was despair. Despair in every cry, every wail, every screech as Jason tried to break free from Bruce. But his body was functioning purely on terror.
He trashed violently, throwing his weight backwards repeating the same attempts. Bruce, laid down with Jason on him, shifted to the side to stop Jason hitting his head back. One big mistake, he comes to realize, as Jason pulled with all his force and slammed his head against the cave floor with a sickening crack.
"Jason!"
It might as well be the scariest sound Bruce ever heard, with Jason going momentarily still for a second. But Jason wasnt done, he lifts his head up to slam again but Bruce rolls them around. Amidst the thrashing and Jason's constant efforts to bash his own skull in, Bruce's brain goes into overdrive, the hard wet crack of bone against the floor reverberating in his brain.
And he panics.
He grabs Jason's head with both hands, trying to hold it still. Willing the trashing to come to an end by sheer physicality. Its too rough, too sudden. Jason stops screaming but his thrashing gets a little more desperate.
"Stop. Stop! Jay you need to stop", but all he gets in response are pleading whines getting progressively breathless as Jason starts descending into hyperventilating.
Breath with me, Bruce wants to say except he can't because he himself is not doing a very good job. And Jason's breathing gets too fast, too shallow too quickly. His struggles start dying down but his chest continues heaving like he can't get enough air.
"Bruce-", the name comes out as a wheeze and as if on reflex, almost immediately, Bruce loosens his grip. Jason, as soon as his hands freed, starts clawing at his chest, still lying on top of Bruce. "I can't-"
Bruce keeps his arms around Jason as he sits up, calming himself down all the more. "It's okay. You can. Just breathe with me."
Bruce exagerrates his own breathes, inhaling deep and long while telling Jason to do the same but with no avail. Jason tries to speak, to say something but his breath continues to come in short, clipped burst. Bruce placed one hand on Jason's chest, firm yet gentle.
"Feel my hand, Jay. Breathe with me."
But all Jason heard was a garbled sound, speaking to him through the depths of the sea. He tried to move but strength was leaving him. And almost as suddenly as it started, the tightness in his chest exploded into a rushing numbness spreading all over his body. Everything seemed to stop.
Bruce felt Jason's body slacken, pitching forward with his head lolling. He pulled him back, gently rubbing at his chest to alleviate the tightness though he isn't sure if its even any help.
"Jay? Jason, hey", the lack of response and movement is enough for Bruce's heart to stop. He doesn't remember much after.
Doesn't remember how he got to the med bay. Doesn't remember calling Alfred. Just remembers now, Jason laying infront of him as he sat at the edge of the bed, holding his hand. Watching intently as Alfred checks him over.
"-it was too much distress for his body to handle."
Bruce nods, words and voice lost from him at the moment. "He's exhausted, physically and mentally from the looks of it. And you must be too."
"I'll stay here."
Alfred clicks his tongue. "I was merely suggesting taking the lad to his room and letting him rest there."
"He hit his head, we will stay here", Bruce states, as if ths statement does enough to explain itself.
He stays, in the same batsuit still, hands holding Jason's.
Sleep does not come to him, he did not give it a chance. His brain replaying a myriad of things going wrong in the last hour. It had barely been an hour.
Bruce couldn't shake it off. Not the warehouse, not the body, not the emptiness taking over his son's face as the body was being taken away. The woman, he thinks. Eyes open staring into nothingness, face gaunt, skin a pale blue under the slight moonlight entering the space. Dark hair, curls. Odd tinges of similarities standing out at him like it was some weird twist of fate.
When Bruce lost his mother, he'd see her in the smallest of the things. In the way his teacher would wear the same shade of red on her lips, in the way he'd see strangers with their hair falling just above their shoulder with a slight wave pulling it up. In the way someone would smile with their lips slightly upturned. In the way he'd see himself in the mirror, her eyes, her nose. And isn't that funny. The reminders remain cruel despite the time thats passed.
It truly is a mockery of it all, cruel irony or a cosmic joke. Call it whatever it doesn't seem to leave a good taste in his mouth. And isn't it on him, who put him in that position. All his talks about steeling oneself against what they come across every night remain mere words infront of this. In front of a child who saw his mother in a woman he could not save. Subconsciously, Bruce tightened his grip on Jason's hand, thumb rubbing circles on the skin under his index. Hands so small, hands which held a dying woman's face with gentle precision when he had delivered steady breaths.
I killed her.
He shouldn't have been there. Not his kid. Not this twelve year old who had known and faced enough already. Guilt grabs at his chest with its teeth sinking, gripping with all might. Alfred had told him he did what was necessary. Told him he had not caused this. Like hell he did not. He put him in that suit the boy donned every night to face his crusade alongside. Should've remained his own. Should've-
A groan pulls him out of his spiral. He watches, straightening up where he sat, as Jason shifts. Jason's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. His eyes darting around until they land on Bruce.
Bruce tries to wear a smile, the way his muscles pull tell him he's not doing a very good job at it. Jason looks at him with confusion that slowly morphs into realization, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he reaches for his head, the side that hit the floor. Jason shifts his gaze to where Bruce is holding his hand, he makes no move to pull away. Bruce does regardless.
"How're you feeling?"
Jason looks back up at him, as if searching his face. Some time passes and there's no response. Bruce wonders about a concussion.
"Does anything hurt?", he reaches for the kit by the medbay table and grabs a pen light. Jason shakes his head, a slight wince that doesn't go unnoticed.
"Can I check you for a concussion?", Bruce waits and eventually Jason nods. Bruce brings the pen light to his eyes, lifting Jasons chin up slightly. Taking the opportunity to run a thumb on his son's cheek. He shines the light, noting his reaction as the pupils respond a little sluggish than he would like.
"Mild", Bruce says, a soft smile on his face. Jason leans back down, staring up at the ceiling, not saying a word.
"What do you remember Jay?"
Jason shifts to his side, turning away from Bruce. He pulls in on himself, wrapping his arms around his torso. Shame, Bruce reads. Guilt, resignation, anguish, and so much more. Bruce moves closer, hand hovering over Jason's shoulder but he doesnt initiate anything.
"Lad?"
Jason doesn't respond.
"Remember the protocol, Jay", Bruce brings it up, hoping it would shift gears. It would bring them to the limelight, help him atleast get one thing right today. While simultaneously, the same bitterness starts spreading through his words. Some protocol, he thinks. Lot good it did.
What it does is get atleast something out of Jason, "I'm sorry."
"No, hey", he closes the distance, gently pulling at Jason's shoulder and getting him to turn. Face him. "What for, Jay? None of it is on you", he sits on the bed, running the same hand through Jason's hair who does little to pull away. His chin wobbles as he closes his eyes, not meets Bruce's.
"Jay?", he pulls him up, gentle leaning him on the bed rest. "What do you need right now?"
Jason just shakes his head, eyes still closed as a tear makes its way down his face.
"Do you want me to get your blanket?"
He shakes his head all the more vigorously, a sob escaping his lips and he purses them, as if willing himself to stop crying by sheer force it self. It's a sight Bruce never wants to see. "Okay, okay. A hold, then? Just like we practiced?"
Jason doesnt respond at first, then slowly lifts his hands, shifting forward and moving towards Bruce who immediately closes the distance, settling on the bed and pulling Jason on his lap. Holding him chest to chest, as he feels Jason lean into his shoulders, hair tickling Bruces neck. "I've got you. I've got you, you're okay lad."
He feels Jason's arms, wrapped around his torso. His heart thundering in his ribcage as he's pressed against him in the hug. Feels the warm puffs against his chest and maintains his hold. His touch. Rubbing Jason's back with one hand while the other cards through his hair. They stay like that for a while, arms linked and intertwined, father and son. Then slowly Jason's breaths get slower, heart beat steady. Bruce doesn't let go and Jason doesn't pull away.
"Talk to me, Jay. Remember what helps", he says gently.
"It didn't. It didn't work", Jason says, his voice small. "I made you panic."
And to think Jason had known, had been perceptive enough to know exactly what Bruce could have been going through.
"That's not on you, lad. Never on you", he plants a kiss on top his head, Jason's curls tickling his nose as he keeps his hold, firm. "I'm your father. And fathers panic when their sons skulls almost crack open on the floor", his attempt at slyness probably doesn't go anywhere but he feels Jason sink deeper in him and tightens his hold on him just a bit. "The fact being nobody is to blame. We just learn from what we can. Okay?"
"I scared you."
"Jay", Bruce says, his voice heavy. "Lad I'm always scared for you. Kind of comes with being a parent."
"Can we go?", Jason asks after a while of quiet, his voice small.
"Of course, of course kiddo. Where do you wanna go?"
Jason doesn't make a move, stays in Bruce's hold his limbs like fixed in place. Bruce shifts and gets up from the bed, picking Jason up with him with ease.
"The library?", Bruce asks when Jason doesn't respond. He feels a nod, a soft movement of his head as Jason's hair tickle Bruces chin. That's all he needs as he starts making his way through the stairs. He picks up the throw on the sun couch, wrapping it around himself and Jason. It's not the blanket, but it will make do for now.
He lays on the sun couch, Jason curled up on top of him. He feels the exhaustion now, it's almost morning and he's still in his batsuit. It can't be comfortable for either of them but they choose it regardless.
Looking at Jason now, all the tell tale signs of mental exhaustion, he has half a mind to let it go but the rest a reminder of his first mistake. To think he'd let it be, give him space, let it simmer. Instead there couldn't have been a louder scream for help right in front of him. Jason makes no move, his palm that was resting on Bruce's chest fists around the suit. Bruce moves his own palm to where Jason's rests, laying it on top of his. He sits up a little, back leaning on the head rest of the sun couch, still holding Jason.
Minutes pass, not a word uttered and Bruce makes an attempt. "During my early days as Batman, and I mean really early, I didn't take cases. Worked on my own. Found fights and tried to stop crime however I could. I would...", he paused, hands still rhythmically carding through Jason's hair. "I came across a mugging one time, a woman caught in the crossfire. I couldn't save her", he keeps his voice steady, his breath even more.
"When I saw her... I tell myself I didnt, but I froze. Something about the way she held herself... the scarf she wore. And her hair. It was seconds and thats all the difference it took. I-", saw my mom, couldn't save her, lost her again. "The thing is, Jay. What you did out there tonight? Was remarkable. You fell into your role, understood what was needed without me telling you. Despite what you saw, you were steadfast", is all he says. Doesn't have it in him, doesn't have the heart to tell this child that sometimes it just won't work out. Sometimes people will fall through the cracks, slip like water. Sometimes they'll fail.
Jason remains quiet for sometime. Bruce lets the silence stretch, waits as Jason processes. Then, with what little voice he could muster, "I know she wasn't her."
"It triggered you regardless."
He feels Jason shake his head, then sit up. The blanket sliding off his shoulder. Bruce lets his palm sit on his back, gentle and grounding. Unwilling to let go just yet.
"Jay, I'm not saying it shouldn't have happened, we can't control these-"
"No. No we should! We can't fail. If we fail then... then who..."
"Jay, lad. You can't carry all that. It's how we learn. We-"
"Thats no excuse", Jason says, definitive.
Bruce sighs. He nods, straightening up. "What happened Jason, I wanna hear from you."
"What?"
"You dissociated, you tried to hurt yourself. What happened?", Bruce keeps his voice steady and gentle. Keeps the question curious lest it corner Jason. Jason on the other hand, his eyes darkened, jaws clenching as he maintained direct contact with Bruce's eyes.
"I don't", he stops then starts again. "I don't know how to explain."
"We'll go slow. Take your time. It's okay, Lad", he says rubbing Jasons back gently, feeling a tremble run down. He pulls the blanket up and puts it back on Jason's shoulders. "What happened?"
Jason remained quiet for a long moment. His gaze softens, his hands were clasped in his lap, fingers intertwined together. Bruce waits.
"It's the smell", he finally speaks, voice a mere decibels away from a whisper. "I can't shake it off. It's like it lives inside me. Even before I saw her, I knew it", he closed his eyes, inhaling shakily. "And it was like I was back there. Back when...", Jason's voice broke. Bruce, instead of his palm on his back now put a hand on Jason's own. He held on. "If only I would've been there, if only I didn't leave her alone-"
"Jay, it's not your fault-"
"No, I wasn't there. She would be here now if I had been there. And somedays. Somedays I-", his voice breaks again and a sob erupts. "I'm horrible. I'm a horrible son."
"No, you're not. You were a child. It was not your responsibility. It never should've been", Bruce pulls him in a hug again, head to his chest.
"She loved me and I killed her", his voice muffled against Bruce's suit as shakes rack his frame.
"Jason. Listen to me", his voice burning with an intensity, a firmness as if to purge those words within Jason, for him to believe anything but that. "I might not know everything. You don't have to tell me. But you were a child. You're still a child. Being scared never made anyone horrible. You loved her like she loved you."
"It wasn't enough", Jason says, openly crying now as his body continues to shake. Bruce closes his eyes, wrapping his arms tighter around Jason as if willing him together in that moment itself. All that guilt packed in a sack spilling out with no mercy. All that pain.
"It was. It was, Jay."
Jason's breathing evened out after a while, his tears stopped but Bruce could tell just by the looks of it how wrung out the kid feels. Bruce doesn't know how much he'd been able to help, doesn't think it did much to relieve Jason's belief. But there's something lighter about him, like it wasn't crushing him anymore.
"Jay?", Bruce nudged at him where he lay cuddled next to him, his head resting on Bruce's shoulder. He opened his eyes blearily. "Let's get you to your room, okay?"
Jason nodded and tried to sit up but Bruce could see the way his arms shook with his weight and the sluggishness of his limbs. He couldnt help but frown. "Jason?"
"I'm okay, I'm just..."
"You're tired, that's okay. Let me carry you."
Bruce moved carefully, sliding one arm under Jason's knees and the other under his shoulder. He lifted him gently, cradling him to his chest. It was never lost on him, how light he was every single time. Always a reminder of all he had endured, all he had carried, all he had suffered and its lasting impact that just won't leave. The year had brought about some changes, anxieties surrounding food had alleviated a little if not entirely. Regardless he couldn't help but think about the days he wasn't present, he hadn't paid attention.
"I think we should consider revisiting the meal plan", he says softly as Jason reached up to grip at Bruce's shoulder. He head lolled against Bruce's shoulder, too exhausted to protest.
"I think you should consider a shower", Jason retorts, Bruce could hear a small smile in his voice and couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.
"Right when I'm done with you, little man", it always struck him, moments like these. Harsh and rough, and yet Jason comes through. Humour intact. His boy.
Bruce walked carefully, Jason's room just down the hall. He pushed open the door with his shoulder, stepping inside. The room was dark with the moonlight casting a soft glow. Bruce shifted Jason and laid him down on the bed, light movements and wary as to not jostle him out of his half-asleep state.
Just as he bent down to drape the covers over him, Jason's eyes fluttered open. "Stay?", he asked, uncertainty lining at the edges of his voice. "Can you stay?"
And Bruce froze with everything in him, his heart clenching at the words as if so far from him. For a moment it's him when he'd heard those words for the first time. For a moment it's Dick in his room, nine years old, woken up by a nightmare and asking him for the very first time to stay in his room while he sleeps. Keep the nightmares at bay.
"Yes. Yes ofcourse", he said as he pulled the covers over Jason, tucking the edges around him. He sat at the edge of the bed, reaching for Jason's hand and holding it through the blanket. He sees a small frown take over Jason's face, chin wobbling ever so slightly as he looks away from Bruce.
"What's the matter?"
Jason shook his head, pulling his hand away. "I can't stop... thinking", a tear rolls to the side and Jason pulls his hand out of the blanket to wipe it away. "Sometimes I..."
Bruce remains quiet, just slightly closing the distance between them but not saying anything.
"When you said you saw that woman and...", Jason starts, Bruce could see his brain working through every word being uttered. Carefully constructing sentences. "When you... does it ever go away?"
And for the umpteenth time, Bruce's chest tightens with the same veracity. He wants with everything in him to shield his son, away from all that troubles him. Away from all that ever could.
"I don't know, Jay. I can't tell you in good faith if it ever does. Even if it gets better."
"I just... I don't want to forget them. But..."
"But it hurts... I know."
"But I don't want you to think that... that you", Jason moves closer, Bruce could read it in his body, the itch to reach out and reads it in his own too. Reaching and reaching eachother but only that. Just that. "I mean you're...", Jason lets out a soft groan in frustration. Circling around himself with the blanket pulled to his ears. "I do love you...", his voice tiny and muffled against the fluff of the blanket.
"I know", Bruce says, "I know, Jay. And I love you, lad. But I know what they meant to you. And I can't ever-"
"But you are. You are... my parent", another tear rolls down and he wipes at it almost immediately. "I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know why I'm so..."
"Jason, the last thing I want to do is replace your parents. I know what its like and I would never..."
"You're my Dad too", Jason sobs out, both palms digging in his eyes. "I know it... I know."
Bruce pulls him up taking him to his lap, wrapping his arms around him yet again. "Its okay", he repeats, rubbing his back, massaging the nape of his neck where the ends of his curls lay. "You've had a rough night, lad. Let's just sleep."
Jason nods against him.
"And tomorrow, if you want... I can take you to see your mom", he says. Jason looks up at that, eyes expectant.
"You will?"
"Yea... I think it might help. To see her? Talk to her a bit? Its been a while right?"
Jason nods again, throwing himself at him to close what little distance was already there, tiny arms around his torso yet again. Tight. Unyielding.
"And you will stay?"
"I will stay."
"Promise?"
A soft laugh at the sheer earnestness in Jason's voice, "I promise lad."