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Talia struts into the room, a small, rectangular device settled in her palm as her gaze locks on Jason with a glare. Jason raises an eyebrow, amused.
“What’s makin’ you look so sour?” Jason asks, fiddling with his dark-red robes that wrap around him, the silk laying gently on his skin in a way that speaks of luxury. Talia remains unmoving, which causes Jason to get a little concerned.
“There’s a storm coming, it’s supposed to be pretty bad.” Talia finally admits. Jason hums, interested.
“And that’s so bad… why?” Jason leads on. Talia sighs, annoyed.
“It affects the temperature, it makes everything harder, and we have to lock down everything outside when the winds get really bad.” She explains, as if it’s obvious. Jason hums once more.
“Can’t you just get all of your little servants to do all of that for you?” Jason observes. Talia throws her hands up, frustration evident in her movements.
“Well, yes, but they never do it right and things always end up broken.” She huffs. Jason stands up, smoothing over his robes and walking closer to her.
“Sounds like you just want to complain.” Jason responds in a sing-songy tone.
“You are helpless.” Talia grits out, stomping out of the room irritatedly. Jason chuckles, beelining towards the door in search of Damian. He finds the boy in the archery range, verbally berating the instructor for something-or-other, as he tends to do whenever someone even just slightly offends him. Jason takes wide strides, appearing behind Damian in a way that apparently wasn’t visible until that very moment, seeing as the instructor nearly jumps two feet in the air.
“What on earth has you so startled?” Damian scoffs, spinning around and laying his eyes on Jason. “Oh.” He says, distastefully.
“‘Sup little bro,” Jason greets enthusiastically. Damian narrows his eyes at Jason.
“Do not call me that.” Damian states, setting his bow on its stand and giving a glance to Jason before promptly walking out.
“Wow, you’re so much like your mother.” Jason amusedly remarks, following the boy in an attempt to bother him.
“I must go help Mother prepare for the storm.” Damian says without looking back to see if Jason is following him.
“She said as much, are wind storms really that bad?” Jason wonders. Damian clicks his tongue.
“You clearly have never experienced one. Everything shifts out of place during storms, it’s the natural way of things. As inconvenient as it may, we must prepare accordingly.” Damian replies, making a very sharp turn and continuing down a hallway.
“I’ve quite literally been here for, like, two months. Of course I don’t know what it’s like. Gotham never gets a day without storms, so it’s all the same for me.” Jason shrugs. Damian shakes his head, disappointed as Talia appears at the end of the hallway like some sort of twisted final boss. Jason bites down a snicker at that thought, specifically how accurate it seems.
“Jason, are you going to aid us in storm preparation?” Talia asks skeptically. Jason purses his lips, pretending to think hard about the matter.
“I suppose if you want me to so badly, I can help,” Jason agrees, much to Damian’s disdain. Talia grunts before leading them outside, instructing them on what to do. Jason dilly-dallies more than he helps, but he does manage to learn what it takes to prepare for a storm, although he doesn’t think that yelling about the servants’ incompetence is required, even if, through Damian’s expression, Talia seems to do that every time.The wind has started to gain traction on the dry, winter ground and dirt mixed with chunks of frozen water start to fly around. They run for shelter as the storm picks up. The temperature seems to drop 20 degrees, even if he still has the robe to protect him from the draft.
His joints start to ache, echoes of old wounds thrumming under his skin. Damian and Talia seem fine, so he doesn’t say anything, instead following the two to the dining room. Food is already on the table, steam coming off of the dishes in a satisfying aroma. Ra’s is already sitting at the table, looking at the three newcomers with bored anticipation. His eyes follow them as they sit, not muttering a single word even as they start to dish out their own food.
The warmth of the curry soothes his aching joints, Jason having to hold back a moan at the relief he feels from the food, his stomach stopping its churning and his taste buds relaxed. As they continue with their meal, they can hear the wind howling outside and the air around them continues to drop. Gentle chatter floats around the table, Talia telling Ra’s about Damian’s improvement in his training, and Jason’s cognitive assessments, saying that he’s almost back to normal– almost completely healed from what happened before his death, even if Jason can still feel the wounds sitting in to his skin and the memories in his mind, no matter how foggy and wrong the memories sits.
When he stands up, though, a sharp pain shoots up his leg and the memory reappears with startling clarity. A broken, mangled leg takes over the healed one that was there before. He gasps, collapsing on the ground with a groan. His stomach feels like his intestines got twisted and his joints are on fire, shoulders burning and jaw clenched tight. He rolls to his back, hearing Damian exclaim in concern, his small hands rasing on his shoulders. His lungs start to contract as flashes of his past fill his mind painfully, images of his dad tugging his mutilated body close, his dad being too far away to reach, the Joker standing above him with a crazed smile, his mom looking at him with pride, and then fear. The Robin suit getting torn to shreds, and red filling his vision before everything goes black. Words echo in his ears and he tries to pull himself back to the present, forcing his mind to stop showing him images of himself, bloodied and broken on the ground of a destroyed warehouse.
“The cold can affect old wounds. It swells and inflames the wound, reminds you that it’s still there.” Talia says once Jason manages to tune back into their words.
“You didn’t, I don’t know, think to tell me that the storm would agitate my pre-death wounds?!” Jason bites out, irritated. Talia scoffs.
“I didn’t realize that you were incapable of handling pain.” Talia remarks monotonously. Jason glares as best as he can while still in pain. Talia gives in after a moment, letting out a sigh. “I’ll have the servents draw you a hot bath, it should hopefully help your flare up cool down. Or warm up, I suppose.” She walks away, irritates. Jason forces his body to relax enough to push himself on to his feet, Damian standing within arms length in case he falls. Jason wants to say that he’s fine, but with how much his legs ache from when he was beat with a crowbar, he doesn’t think that he has much room to talk.
The bathtub is steaming when he enters his bathroom, Talia already gone by the time that Jason manages to waddle in. Damian stands at the door, allowing Jason the privacy to enjoy the warmth without being watched, but he know that Damain is still outside of the door in case anything happens.
The water feels amazing on his sore joints, quelling the aches that have built up and allowing the cold to seep out of his body. One day, he won’t feel the aching pains of dying, but for now… for now, he’ll have to suffice with what he has