Work Text:
The first thing Jason noticed was that the door was heavier than it should be. He hissed through his teeth as he slipped inside, the safehouse lights were on and just distantly he felt his thoughts stray. An odd paranoia kicking in with the already surging adrenaline keeping him moving at the moment. The kids aren’t meant to be here, they are not meant to be here. He can’t-
His arm was shaking and taking a step he realized his leg was shaking all the more. His body didn’t cooperate. He pushed his mind off it, focusing instead on putting one leg in front of the other and making his way to the bathroom. Blood seeped through his fingers, he’s pretty sure he is leaving behind a trail. His vision blurs and zooms out for a moment and he physically shakes himself to get back on track.
Not good.
He reached the bathroom, shuffling and trying to shut the door behind him but energy was seeping away from him by the minute. He leaned his back on the wall, for a second. Just for a second and his eyes slipped shut and he slid down before could catch himself. He snapped up with a cry, reaching under the sink and pulling out the first aid kit, his hands shaking so hard, there was hardly any grip control.
He tried to get his thoughts in line. Clean the wound, get the bullet out, stitch it up, clean the blood, go to sleep.
His right shoulder hurt like hell and he wasn’t sure if it was dislocated or if there was a fracture nearby. Deciding he can’t take his shirt off to tend to the wound, he reached for the scissors and cut open what he could using his left hand. Bending seemed to jostle the bullet still lodged inside and only made him more nauseous.
A beat passed followed by a few more as he could feel the pounding in his ears and the all too familiar sensation of slipping away. And then everything started escalating a little too much a little too quickly. This shouldn’t be so hard, he thought as he tried to reach for the gauze to hold back the blood, tearing it open with his teeth, all too aware how his breaths were coming in gasps. His fingers were clumsy and numb, somehow he managed to move his right hand to put pressure on his side as his left hand searched for tweezers.
Everything blurred together and his hands refused to cooperate, he wasn’t able to put pressure because of the injury, the gauze slipping. He leaned on his left hand, one moment composing himself, eyes fixated on the kit and the next moment he was horizontal on the floor.
Cold and warm, cold washing all over on the insides and warm everything he could feel on his body. He knew the kids weren’t around, he found himself thanking some power in the world for that little mercy. The idea of death had not even occurred to him until his body entirely gave up on him and he could not remember what he was supposed to be doing.
He passed out.
Tremors, racking his body. Heavy forced movements. Someone was shaking him, he realised as he tried to blink his eyes open. Awareness seeped slowly as sounds petered in and he could hear someone saying his own name.
“-od? Hood. Jason?”
The voice was high, tight and panicked. It took him a long time to place it. PJ, his brain provided as he managed to force his eyes open. PJ was at his side, one hand rummaging through the kit too as his eyes stayed on Jason’s face. His other hand continuing to shake him.
“Jason, can you hear me? Jason?”
Jason tried to answer. His tongue was too heavy, too stuck. His throat worked, too dry. He thinks pathetically how useless it all is as a groan is all he is able to manage.
“Okay, hey. What the fuck happened?” He pulled out fresh gauze, opening the package and reaching for his side. The next thing Jason knew was white-hot pain ripping through him exactly like the bullet. The hands pressed hard and Jason could not hold back the cry that escaped his lips.
“Sorry. I’m sorry, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding a lot.”
The pressure deepened and another cry followed that, this time low and ragged and lacking any energy.
“I’m sorry, I know this hurt-”
It registers like cotton picking on droplets when he hears PJ’s voice crack. He turns, he tries to focus on his face, he tries to say something, anything. The kid looks so scared, sounds so scared. Even through the fog Jason wants to tell him to leave, that he is okay. That he can handle it.
He thinks he slips away for a while because when he comes to next the pressure releases and there’s the sound of scrambling on the bathroom tiles, clatter of things falling around and then a click which starts a dial tone. Once again, paranoia wraps around his chest and his brain works overdrive to figure out what’s happening. Don’t call, he wants to say. Don’t call anyone. Please don’t call him. He blinks at the ceiling and PJ’s face comes in his eyeline.
“Who?” PJ asks, his frown deepening.
Jason blinks again, he’d said it out loud. He’d managed to say it out loud. He tries again but the call picks up and a voice buzzes through, deep and… Jason can’t hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.
“-ad. I sent you the loca-”
There’s sounds Jason buzzes out of again and there’s more rustle and desperate pleading.
“-er ask of you but please! I need you, Dad!”
Jason feels another cry tear out as he tries to move, PJ was on his right side and he needed to get a hold of the kid. He needed to reassure him. It’s really okay, it just looks bad. The kid had just called his father. Fought with him over the phone from what it sounds like, fought for him.
Lifting his hand had the opposite effect as darkness swam in and Jason willed his vision to stop swimming. Much to no avail. Hands on his face and he blinked a couple times to focus in.
“-to be okay. My dad’s coming, okay?,” He heard PJ who moved around again and began putting pressure on the wound. “My dad’s coming. Just hold on. Please hold on.”
It’s okay, Jason thinks. It doesn’t matter. He should really get the kid to leave. Part of him tries, he can say that, part of him really tries to hold on. But he felt himself slip away as darkness filled around the edges and seemed to swallow him whole.
Coming to was even weirder, even more detached. He notes voices around him, not just one but a new heavy reverberation he could not put a face to. The same desperate pitch talking to him followed by another that seemed to be more… steady. Calm.
Then hands were on him, on his side and he couldn’t help but whimper, forcing his eyes open and trying to make sense of what was going on. He was met with a hazy blur of shapes and colours.
“-on? Can you hear me?”
Jason frowned, there was something floating around. Some things to be specific. He blinked a few times, PJ’s face coming into focus and a bunch of… orbs. One right above him and a few at his side. He saw one of the orbs shift closer, red lasers moving around like scanning his side, before he heard a voice.
“Bullet lodged just below the ribs. Angled 145 degrees upwards, missed the lung by about 2 centimeters.”
Jason turned towards the voice. Mr. Terrific came into view, watching Jason for a moment before turning to PJ. “Jeffrey, I need you to get me some warm water and towels.”
PJ kept his eyes on Jason as he shifted on his knees and got up, looking like he did not want to leave his side even for a moment. And then with one nod, Jason watched as he walked away.
“You need a hospital,” Mr. Terrific says as he continues to inspect the wound.
“-hnn,” Jason tries to speak, peering at the orbs and manages a small, quiet “No.”
Mr Terrific turns to face him, a hard weathered look on his face, “You need blood transfusion, you’ve lost a lot and I can’t give you anesthesia.”
“C’n.”
“Jason,” his voice comes stern, an underlying anger being the only thing Jason could pick up on. An exasperation in the way he says his name, and Jason doesn’t even know the guy. Doesn’t think the guy knows him any better. PJ enters back with a bowl and a couple hand towels hanging from his elbow.
Mr. Terrific takes it from him, “Clean around the entry point, can you do that?”
PJ nods, taking one of the towels and dipping in the hot water.
“Good. Now, Jason,” Mr Terrific waited until Jason fixed his eyes on him, “I’m going to take the bullet out using my T-spheres. This will hurt a lot since they’re not built for medical emergencies and I do not have any anesthesia to give you. Wouldn’t have done so with the blood loss anyways,” he keeps his eyes on him and after a pause he asks, “Do you understand?”
Jason nods. Somehow manages something close enough.
“Good. Stay awake,” he turns to PJ as PJ takes the towel away and turns to the bowl, most of the blood wiped off and giving a clear view of the entry point. “Jeffrey, can you hold him?”
PJ moves without a word, shifting behind Jason and reaching for his shoulders. The moment his hands touch Jason’s right shoulder he lets out a cry which he then tries to bite down.
“Sorry! I’m sorry-”
“It’s okay, son,” Mr. Terrific moves one of the orbs and then speaks up again, “He’s got a fractured clavicle,” he sighs. “Okay,” he moves both of Jason’s arms, earning yet another groan and bringing them up behind his head. He looks at PJ, “Hold his palms, like this. And keep them down. He won’t be able to move, can you do that?”
PJ nods again.
“And keep talking to him if you can, okay kiddo?” Jason hears something soften in Mr. Terrific’s voice and almost feels responsible for the previously perceived harshness.
Jason feels hands on his palm, soft and warm. Gripping tight, squeezing. Then hands shifting to his legs, bigger ones by his ankle as if holding him down.
“Just hold on, okay?” Jason tries to look at the kid, tries being the keyword. He needs to tell him it’s okay, he’s so brave. That he is doing so good. He needs to tell him he’s sorry and it won’t be his fault. He is so sorry for this and it would never be his fault. Out of focus, he hears the orbs move around and suddenly felt a cold, precise pressure against his side. At first he just hissed and squirmed and hands, both on his palms and his legs, tightened their hold. Then a whirring sound. And then, white-hot burning pain.
It erupted from his side, spreading like waves through his entire body and he felt like he was being burnt alive, ripped apart one nerve at a time. He couldn’t help but jerk and the feeling of being pinned down only doubled down on his paranoia yet again, feeding it, egging it on. He could hear hushed apologies muttered like a mantra and just like it started, he began losing his grip.
“Dad-”
“Keep your hold.”
The pressure eased. The pain remained. Jason floated for a while and then the weight came back, only stronger this time. It took all in him to not scream, and then scream he did.
“Almost there-”
The screams blurred into whimpers and choked sobs. Something was trying to quite literally pull him apart and his entire abdomen was on fire. He heard noises, pleas and shouts, an odd rhythmic beeping which could only be the orb by his head, seemingly screeching at his vitals. Cause Jason wasn’t there anymore. Everything else buzzed in and out.
“-Dad!”
“-going into shock-”
“-ay awake!”
“-clamp down, we got-”
“Jason, please!”
For a moment, it was quiet and the next, pain was all he knew. He drifted in it. His body remained unresponsive, his brain felt a disconnect. Part of him questioned if he was back. If this was finally the sweet release before the scene started to shift.
He looked up and a vast darkness spread ahead, a cloudless night with what little stars he could see. A rooftop. And… Bruce. Was there. Bruce, talking to him, saying something, words that came and went, words that meant nothing, words that reverberated with the emptiness with which they were spoken. He wants to refute. He wants a stance. He thinks he wants it but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.
It shifts and changes and he’s on the floor. He could feel every inch of his body, broken and battered, like an old wives tale living in his bones. He could hear the ragged breaths and taste the fear like metal in his tongue. He’s scared, he’s alone and he is going to die.
Only for the scene to shift again and oddly enough this time… warmth. He can smell it, cedar and oakwood, the lingering smell of old books. The creaky floors and the towering shelves. He'd been so small.
Jay.
His chest hurts with a yearn he hasn't felt before and he doesn't know what it is. What he wants. He doesn't want this, he thought he didn't. He was done. And yet. And yet.
Jay. Just st-
It shifts ever so slightly and the scene crumbles. And he reaches, yet again, not knowing for what. Not knowing exactly where.
Come back Ja-
“-son? Can you hear me?”
It all seemed to blend together in one. A memory, a yearn, a shape of him left behind with every piece of himself he had lost every single time. A dream because only far from reality will he dare to wish for the one thing beaten out of him. A nightmare because it was never meant for him, always out of reach, always a reminder.
Senses came back one by one. The pain was persistent yet dulled. His body won't listen to him, his eyes won't obey and words filtered in and out.
“-pulse is weak but he's stable-”
“-a lot of blood-”
“-not your fault-”
“-going to be okay-”
As the pounding came back in full surge, Jason let go. Hoping to open his eyes to the cloudless sky and him and Bruce on the rooftop.
The ceiling of his safehouse room came into view with a blink, coloured in rays of orange with the wash of what seemed to be setting sun. With deliberate and careful movements he looked around the room, his eyes first falling down on himself, his torso heavily bandaged. Perking up hurt and he soon got his answer when he realised his right hand was tied in a sling already, restricting most of his movement.
He heard a chair push back and turned towards the voice to find PJ, standing up still, eyes trained on him.
“You're awake,” PJ said, stepping closer to the bed.
That's when Jason noticed just how exhausted the kid looked- his clothes rumpled and his eyes looking almost swollen, darker upon closer inspection. Jason simply nodded and PJ brought a glass of water from the side table and helped Jason up, letting him take a couple sips.
That's when Jason noticed movement out of the corner of the eye and say Mr Terrific sitting on the chair to his right, arms crossed across his chest.
“How long-,” his voice cracked despite the water. He cleared his throat. “How long was I out?”
“Two days,” Mr Terrific answered, his voice neutral.
Jason leaned back with a sigh, closing his eyes. Mr. Terrific got up from his seat and walked over, hands remaining crossed. “Jeffrey, could you give us a moment?”
PJ looked between the two of them, placing the glass of water back and nodding as he stepped out, closing the door after him.
Mr Terrific looked at Jason for a long moment who could not get himself to meet his gaze. Not exactly.
“You almost died,” he starts. Jason waits, not saying anything.
“You almost died,” Mr Terrific repeats. “And my son found you.”
Jason's jaw tightened, throat working. Mr. Terrific pulled the chair forward and sat back down.
“He called me, four in the morning, fighting and crying. Panicking out of his mind. He thought you were going to die,” his voice remained calm but there was something underlying, something sharp, the same thing Jason felt himself pick up on before. “Do you understand what it was like for him?”
Jason opens his mouth but Mr Terrific holds his hand up, silencing him.
“No, you don't,” he answers for him. “You made these conscious decisions yourself. You didn't call for help when you needed it. You didn't tell anyone you were injured. You tried to patch yourself up in a tiny ass bathroom and passed out from blood loss,” Mr Terrific clicked his tongue and leaned on his knees, shaking his head. “There is this thin line between bravery and stupidity and you seem to have blurred it beyond recognition.”
Jason winced, biting at his cheeks. Eyes still downcast.
“I might not know all about you, Jason. But I know you've been trained to survive. To push through pain, hide weakness and rely only on yourself.” He paused. “But that isn't going to work anymore. You have children who look up to you. Children who care about you and would be devastated if you died.”
Jason looked up at him, head pulled into a frown.
“Jeffrey is my son,” Mr Terrific continued. “He's the most important thing in my life and when he called me that night, the fear in his voice? I was terrified. For him. Because he found you. He saw you bleeding out while desperately trying to keep the blood in your body. Hell, he held you down while you thrashed and screamed and cried all the while I cut into you to save your life.”
His voice dropped again, “Do you have any idea what that was like for him? No, because he's going to be the one to carry this with him for a long time. And that’s on you.”
Jason's throat was tight when he spoke, “I know.”
“Do you? Do you understand what you're doing to them?” Mr Terrific leaned back. “You're their mentor. Their adult. Who they trust to keep them safe. And every time you hide an injury, every time you push through pain. Every time you pretend you're fine when you're not? You're teaching them the same.”
“I don't-”
“You are. Whether you mean it or not,” Mr Terrific's voice softened. “Jason, I know you're good for them. I've seen it. You've done good here, giving them what they didn't have before. And they're better on their own accord but also because of you.” He waited, watching Jason with a sharp intensity, “But you're also a danger to them. Because you won't let them help. You won't let them see you hurt. Because you don't want to be a burden so you'd rather die and have one of them find you.”
Jason closed his eyes. The pounding was back but he couldn't be bothered. Guilt wrapped around his chest, PJ's voice ringing in his ears.
“I'm sorry,” he mumbled out, feeling all the more pathetic at how worn out he sounds.
“Don't be sorry,” Mr Terrific said standing up. “Learn. You owe it to them. And you owe it to me if I'm ever going to trust you with my son again,” He adds with a muted smile. He made his way to the door, only stopping momentarily to look back before he stepped out.
“Get some rest, we will talk again once you're better.”
At this point, he feels a pattern has been established and yet he feels his body buzz with hypervigilance the moment consciousness falls back in. Voices around him, the kind of chatter he'd gotten used to with the consistent presence in the background no matter what he'd be doing around the safehouse.
The very same now, carrying exactly the kind of lightness, mirth and the normalcy it brought with it.
“-solutely not! You're not putting that on.”
“It's a classic!”
“Who said that?”
“It's a crime against cinema-”
“Betrayal! I thought at least you'd back me-”
“Shh! He's waking up.”
The moment he opens his eyes, five faces peering down at him, strangely inspecting.
“Officially welcoming you back to the land of the living,” Jett announces, taking step back with a sigh, “again.”
Jason blinked at them. His throat stretched, dry despite the lingering metallic taste in his mouth. “Whuh-”
Lian moved closer, “Try not to move.”
And exactly on cue, Jason tried to sit up. Pain flared on his side and he bit down his tongue but it was already visible on his face.
‘Whoa dude!” Ezra shrieked, “What did she just say?”
“Stay down,” Jett was at his side, hands hovering not knowing what to do as he bit those words out. “Can you listen for once?!”
“I'm-”
“Do not even try to tell me you're fine. I don't think you even know what it means,” Jett pushed at his left shoulder gently, making him lay back down as he sounded like he was trying his best not to scream, “You're actually banned from using that word. Yes, effective immediately, Jason Todd cannot use the f-word under any capacity.”
Jason frowned at him, staring at Jett for a good moment.
“He's been like this for the last three days,” Nika explained, voice flat yet slightly amused. “You missed a lot.”
“He cried,” Ezra adds, leaning his elbows at the end of the bed.
“I did not cry-”
“Four witnesses agree to disagree.”
Lian shifted closer, voice softer when she spoke next, “You look like hell. Do you need anything?” Eyes sparkling with worry.
Jason shook his head, eyes watchful wandering around the room. He spots PJ, talking to Ezra when their eyes meet and something shifts in his face. Jason looks away, feeling an overwhelming surge of something akin to shame. He looks back at Lian who then asks him, “How do you feel, really?”
“Like I got shot,” giving her a somewhat lopsided smile and feeling the knot loosen when she smirks back at him.
“That tracks.”
His eyes strayed back to PJ, without really intending to. The kid looking back at him, furrowed brows and all but face somehow soft. Somehow relieved.
Jason looks around, them gathered by his bed. All of them here, keeping an eye on him. Waiting for him to wake up. Something swells within and he thinks back on what Mr Terrific had said.
“Thank you,” he mumbles out, clearing his throat.
Heads turn to face him, the room suddenly falling silent like someone had vacuumed all the air.
“Anytime,” Lian says softly as he hears Jett whisper “Pod person?” to Ezra who elbows him in the ribs.
“Now can I have a moment with PJ?”
They all looked at PJ who nodded and then started moving towards the door. Nika first, followed by Lian and Ezra walking out with Jett leaning on him dramatically before turning back to PJ with a mock salute.
The door closed.
Neither of them said anything for a moment. Then Jason cleared his throat, the awkwardness tightening around the room before asking, “You okay?”
PJ blinked at him, “What?”
“I mean… how are you holding up?” Wincing at the absolute mess of a check in and he'd done it so many times before. How do you ask that off of a kid who almost watched you die and is solely responsible for you being alive.
“Last I checked, I wasn't the one who got shot and is meant to be on bed rest,” PJ answers but there's no bite to it. He just sounds exasperated, and the slight perk of the corners of his mouth suggesting he's just pulling leg.
Jason opened his mouth to refute, closing them again to think through his words. And eventually deciding on, “Sure, but you did find me.” He paused, watching as PJ's jaw tightened and his gaze shifted away. “That's not nothing.”
PJ remained silent. Jason sighed. A beat passed, the PJ spoke again.
“I was… I should've done better. I knew what to do. All that on-field medical training. But I couldn't even think. When Dad.. only when he used the T-spheres.. I just.. if you died, it would've been because I was too stupid to even think.”
Another bout of silence passed and then Jason moved, lifting himself up. PJ stepped to his side, grabbing hold of his shoulder and one hand at his back as he lifted the pillows and helped him lean on them. Jason patted at the space next to him, gesturing to PJ who sat down.
“I'm going to say a few things. And I need you to listen to me, okay?” Jason started and only continued when he got a nod from PJ. “If anyone in this situation is stupid, it’s me. There are millions different ways this could've gone that did not involve putting you through that.”
“But I was-”
“You were scared,” Jason maintained, voice steady. “That's not the same thing. And you did the right thing. You called your dad. You helped him patch me up. You-”
“I didn't do anything-”
“You kept me alive, PJ,” Jason interjected, firm. “You saved me. I should've never… it should've never been your responsibility,” Jason adds with a finality, searching PJ's eyes as they meet his. PJ remains quiet for a while, processing or at least Jason hopes. He'll say it as many times as it takes. He can't let the kid carry this burden, it's not his and never meant to be.
His gaze falls and Jason follows to find him staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. “Its… stupid. But I can't seem to shrug it off. The,” he pauses, swallows and continues, “I keep thinking about it.”
“It's not stupid.”
PJ quirked an eyebrow at Jason and opened his mouth, Jason was sure it was going to be yet another quip of some kind but he beat him to it.
“It's not stupid,” He insisted, “You witnessed something traumatic. You're allowed to be messed up about it.”
PJ considers for a while, sighing. “Did my… Dad.. say anything to you?”
Jason smiles, eyes softening, an unprecedented urge to reach out and shake the kid. “You don't have to worry about it, plus… he was right.”
PJ groans, rolling his eyes. He looks down at his hands again, then straightening up and turning to Jason to meet his eyes, he asks, “Can I ask you something?”
Jason shrugged with the one shoulder and waved his hand to give him a go ahead.
“Were you scared?”
Jason exhales loud, through his nose, looking at PJ a knowing feeling in his chest. He rummage through it all, thoughts, feelings, emotions, only to find himself empty handed. Only to find himself back where he'd always been.
“I don't know,” he says, with as much honesty as he could. “It was… weird. I think I wanted you to leave, I wanted you to not see. I think I thought about death and-” he pauses, looking at PJ who's listening intently, every word significant in and of it's own. “I thought I'd done this before. Felt… indifferent.”
“Only you would feel indifferent about death.”
Jason smiles. PJ doesn't.
“This was not… on purpose right?”
Jason's smile drops, feeling a smack on his chest with the weight of the question. With what PJ was trying to explore.
“No,” He tried to straighten up, wincing. “No,” he repeats. Then decided fuck it and opened his left arm, beckoning PJ who stiffened as he shifted but in a split second leaned into the hug, breathing deeply. It was awkward, Jason's one arm was in a sling so he could only wrap his left around PJ's back gently. PJ kept to one side, bringing both his hands around Jason.
“I'm sorry, kiddo,” He says softly as they maintain the hug, “I'm so sorry for putting you through that. I made a fucked up decision and you had to deal with the consequences.
“It's okay,” PJ's voice comes up, muffled. “I forgive you,” he adds with a nod. Then pulling away from the hug, a frown still on his face he says, “Just don't do it again, okay?”
Jason clicks his tongue, smiling, “Can't make any promises.”
PJ smiles back, meeting his fist with Jason's left shoulder, gently hitting him.
“But I can try,” Jason says finally and PJ nods at him.
Jason leaned back on the pillows, closing his eyes, exhaustion pulling him in a second. He hears the door open, murmurs and curious voices and rustles settling into the room. And did so with such naturality, Jason caught himself breathing better. Caught himself holding on to the sounds, holding on to consciousness just a bit, just for a while.
This will have to do, for now.